Wind of Destiny

by Christopher Nicole

  Then she had despaired; they had not even had the time to bid each other farewell, as she had not known of Lumbrera’s decision until the moment it had been implemented. Then she had wondered how Christina would fare, with only the servants left as possible companions. But then too, she had remembered Christina’s strength. Christina had coped. And she had realised what must have happened to Toni, too. Thus she came to the comer of the yard, and gave a little salute, every morning. No doubt Christina too, had gone through some mental agonies on the day Toni had not appeared, supposing that for all her American citizenship she might have been executed.

  Or worse, released, leaving them to suffer for being Cuban. But she was Cuban too, in the eyes of the Spanish government.

  It was incredible that they had now been locked away in here for more than two years, just locked away, and left to die. Most of them. But for her, just locked away. In the beginning, she had tried to share some of her fortune, to secrete parts of her food, and carry them into the yard with her. She had succeeded for a while, then the guards had discovered what was going on — presumably someone had betrayed her — and had made her submit to a search when she left the cell. They had enjoyed that, Lumbrera most of all. She had not.

  But she still found it incredible that people could do something like this to other people, and not face retribution. There was America, huge and populous, prosperous and strong, only forty miles of sea away from Havana, and here was Cuba, an accurate representation of hell for all of those two and a half years, and nobody was doing anything about it. No one was doing anything about her. Walkshott came to see her, regularly, presumably just to reassure himself that she was all right; he definitely regarded her as a nuisance, who had made her own bed and was now finding it distinctly uncomfortable to lie on. As he kept reminding her, he had wanted to take her out right at the beginning of the rebellion, when no one could prove that Rafael had been an insurgent, much less a leader of insurgents. She had refused, and thus been identified with the rebel cause. Now there was nothing anyone could do to help her. She should just be grateful that because she was also an American she was being spared the hardships of her companions in crime.

  He brought her letters, from Ma and Pa, and he took her letters to them. But hers were censored. Not only did theirs tell her this, but she could guess it from the way they never referred to anything important that she had told them. Their letters, in fact, were utterly meaningless in the context of her situation. In the beginning there had been nothing but outrage, a constant lobbying of senators, of the Administration, of public figures, an angry insistence upon action against Spain, a continued optimism that she would soon be returned to them. But as no action had been taken, the tone of the letters had gradually changed. Now they were concerned with relating everyday events on Long Island, of reminding her that when she did achieve her release her home was waiting for her, as was her life, to be resumed. If they never reproached her for her decision to remain at Obrigar, which had led directly to her imprisonment, equally they never mentioned Rafael, whose choice of her as a bride had caused so much heartache and grief.

  Even the tone of Joe’s letters had changed, because, like Ma and Pa, he had begun to despair of her ever being released.

  Being alone, twenty-four hours in every day, except for the guard who fed her, and Lumbrera’s twice weekly visits, had given her a great deal of time in which to think. She had no mirror, for fear she might break the glass and harm herself, but she had no doubt her face had hardened as much as Christina’s, even if she had endured none of Christina’s dreadful experiences. Certainly her mind had hardened.

  She had gone through several phases of her own feelings as regards Rafael, and through him, Jack Lisle. Her decision to marry, after meeting Jack, had been wildly romantic and at the same time disgustingly criminal, especially the thoughts which had accompanied it. No doubt she had, in that, deserved everything that had happened to her, although it was difficult to accept that her criminality should have involved so many others in catastrophe.

  She had recognised all of that during the first years of her married life, when Rafael had proved such a good husband, and had apparently found no fault in her as a wife. Her lack of love had been tempered by the knowledge that he was working with Jack for the rebel cause, had given her life that spice of romance that in the absence of true love would have otherwise been absent. The feeling that she too was a part of it, a part of Jack’s ambition, had been tremendously exciting. Then the actual outbreak of the revolution had happened so suddenly and unexpectedly she had been caught up in the whirl of events before she had properly evaluated them, found herself attempting to cope with the situation on Obrigar before she had properly understood what die situation was. During the terrible three months that had passed after Christina’s arrest, she had done no more than exist, striving to keep her head above the mental and moral swamp into which she had been cast. There had been no time to think about her men folk, except to wish they could rescue her.

  That had not happened. She did not even know if the abortive assault upon Obrigar had been intended to save her and Dona Carlotta, or had merely been a military exercise. Either way, its failure had led to the loss of the plantation, if Lumbrera was to be believed; he claimed that attack had directly implemented Valeriano Weyler’s determination to strike back at the rebels through their women and children. Thus once again, Jack and Rafael had brought disaster upon them. There had been times, as she lay on her cot and sweated and stared sleeplessly at the ceiling and thought of everything that had happened, and was happening, when it should have been easy to hate them both. Equally she should resent the fact that there had never been any message from them, in two years, no indication of what they were doing, or even if they were still alive. Of course it was possible they were dead. But if they were not, they were still fighting, and they would be expecting her to do the same, as best she was able. With more reason. If she had lost everything from her Cuban life, she still had Long Island to return to, as Ma and Pa kept reminding her. They had nothing, and had lost even more.

  So she wasn’t at all sure how she would look on either of them could she see them again. But she knew she wanted to see them again, and not just because Rafael was her husband. She was too closely identified with this struggle now. She knew that if she were released tomorrow and returned to the States, she would seek the first available passage back to Cuba. If she had to spend the rest of her life living in those mountains and sleeping in the open air, she was prepared to do that, if she could also strike back at the men who had raped Christina and stuffed candles into her, who were imprisoning her, who had burned her home.

  Over the year of her total isolation, the resolution to take her fate into her own hands had been hardening. Because, locked away in this room, she was accomplishing nothing. She had supposed her duty was protecting and helping the women of Obrigar, and above all, Dona Carlotta and Christina. But she had never been able to protect any of them, and now she was not even helping diem. To stay here was a waste of time, when she could be out there, fighting for them. Doing that would not affect whether they lived or died, here, but it might bring their release a day closer.

  She thought she knew how it could be done. If she was brave enough, and ruthless enough, and brutal enough, to do it. She thought her two and a half years in Lumbrera’s clutches might have given her those strengths.

  But she still had not made her decision when he entered her cell on Christmas Eve. ‘Dona Carlotta has died,’ he announced, closing the door behind himself as he entered the room, throwing his cap on the table. ‘It is surprising, really, that she did not do so long ago. I am always amazed at the residual vitality some people possess. And others lack.’

  Toni stared at him. Just about the last link, she thought. Only Christina remained. She wished she could speak with her, one more time. To walk away from Christina, without a word, might damage even that proud spirit irreparably.

  ‘Well, senora
? Are you not sad that your mother-in-law has passed away.’

  ‘Yes, Colonel,’ she said. ‘I am very sad.’

  ‘But you are alive, eh? Did you enjoy that pie I sent you?’

  ‘It was delicious,’ Toni told him.

  He raised his eyebrows. Most of the time she never even bothered to answer his questions. ‘That pleases me, senora. That pleases me very much. And tomorrow is Christmas Day. I will send you a nice piece of turkey, tomorrow. And a funny hat. Ha ha.’

  Toni walked to the barred window, looked out. ‘Sometimes I think I am going mad,’ she said.

  ‘Being locked up has that effect on people. Where would you be without my visits, eh?’ He sat on the single chair, one leg thrown across the other.

  She turned to face him. ‘I think you are right, Colonel.’

  ‘Ha ha. Some sense at last.’

  ‘Yes.’ Toni sat on the bed, and then lay on her elbow, watching him, as he watched her, the faintest of frowns gathering between his eyes as he realised she was acting very strangely. ‘Yes, I am beginning to get some sense, as you say, at last.’ She sat up, violently, disarranging her skirts so that he caught a brief glimpse of her legs. ‘I want to get out of this cell, Colonel.’

  Lumbrera stroked the ends of his moustache. ‘I am afraid that is not possible, my dear senora. Not as long as your husband is still at large, terrorising the country. But who knows? The bandits are surrendering in droves. That is why I have been able to release so many women.’ He grinned. ‘As each man comes in and lays down his arms, he is reunited with his family. If anything is left of it. He can return to his home and start rebuilding it. If he does not starve to death first.’ He shrugged. ‘Alas, there is to be no amnesty for Rafael Diaz.’

  ‘You mean I am to stay here for the rest of my life?’

  ‘You will have to stay here until we can hang your husband, or obtain positive proof of his death, yes. It will happen, one day. Perhaps soon, as I say, as his men desert him, and even more now that the Americans are going to help us.’

  Toni sat up without meaning to. ‘What did you say? The Americans are going to help you?’

  ‘Of course. It was always bound to happen.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said. It couldn’t be true, she knew. It just couldn’t.

  Lumbrera grinned. ‘Have I ever lied to you, senora? As I say, it was always bound to happen. These guerrillas, led by your husband, remember, have become desperate as they have seen their prospects of success fade. Not that they ever had any prospects of success. And the Americans have become more interested in what has been happening here. They demanded the dismissal of Captain-General Weyler, and the government in Madrid agreed. Who am I to say whether they were right or wrong? But that made the Americans more sympathetic to us. Now your husband has been leading his people into Havana, in small bands, to attack business property there. Much of it American property. Well, there has been a riot, and some of your countrymen were hurt. So your government was hurt. So your government is sending a battleship to visit us, eh? To keep an eye on things. To make sure no more American citizens get hurt. Your husband can hardly fight against an American battleship, eh?’

  Toni was too aghast for words, for a moment. She had had no idea just how desperate things were becoming, outside the walls of her cell. But then she realised that made it more imperative than ever for her to get out, or she would lose both Rafael and Jack forever. She could not believe the American government would ever really support the Spanish against the Cubans, without the gravest provocation … but attacks on American property was certainly provocation. Rafael and Jack had to be told, and told their cause was lost. If they would accept that, and seek refuge, with her, on this American warship … then surely sufficient pressure could be brought to bear to have Christina released as well.

  Certainly she knew she could not remain here a moment longer than was absolutely necessary. She had stayed too long as it was.

  But to escape would involve her into the most terrible of all criminal acts: the death of a man. She knew there would be no alternative to that. It was time to ask herself — was this a man?

  ‘If my husband is attacking American property,’ she said, ‘then he must have lost his senses. I will have to settle for the best I can until, as you say, you catch him and hang him. Would it not be possible to escape from this room, this prison, for just twenty-four hours?’

  Lumbrera’s frown deepened, for a moment, and then began to clear. Indeed, he looked positively benevolent, and resumed stroking his moustache. ‘You will have to explain what you have in mind, my dear senora.’

  ‘I was remembering an offer you made to me, oh, a long time ago. An offer I so foolishly refused, that if I was prepared to be nice to you, you would take me to your villa in El Caney, which is so comfortable, and so beautiful.’ Lumbrera’s whole body seemed to swell. ‘And you would be nice to me?’

  ‘Very, very nice,’ she said, gazing at him. ‘Then you can be nice to me here.’

  ‘I am not sure that would be wise,’ she said. ‘If you were to spend the night with me here, it might be difficult to convince your superiors that you were not bringing pressure to bear on me. If I were to come with you to your house … ’

  ‘Hmm,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Yes. That is a good point. But even so, I shall require proof that you are coming to my bed of your own free will.’

  Toni looked into his eyes. ‘You will have all the proof you require,’ she promised.

  *

  ‘The photographer is ready,’ Lumbrera said.

  Toni gazed at herself in the mirror. He had wanted her to undress, and change into the satin nightgown he had bought especially for the occasion. He was like a small boy with a new pet, so excited he could hardly contain himself. At least he had left her alone to bathe and change, to perfume herself and brush her hair. And to study the situation, as well as herself; she had not had the use of a mirror for more than two years, and was pleased with what she saw, the determination in her face as well as the beauty. And she knew she was going to need them both. But the determination most of all, because after years of patiently accepting what was thrown at her, she was about to fight back, and become a revolutionary herself, as bloodstained as any of the others, literally.

  And it was not going to be as easy as she had hoped. However besotted he was, Lumbrera was not a fool. He had taken her from the camp in a closed carriage, but four of his men had accompanied them. The villa itself was everything he had claimed for it, standing just outside the village of El Caney itself, and back from the fortress which formed one of the outlying defences of Santiago de Cuba. It was not much of a fortress, in her estimation, more of a large earthen breastwork, but it contained several cannon as well as Maxim machine guns, and what appeared, from her brief glimpse of it, as a considerable garrison. More serious, from her point of view, it was prepared for an assault. The outer slope had been cleared of all trees and large bushes to form a glacis, across which the machine guns were undoubtedly sighted, and there was in addition a barbed wire fence, several strands deep, stretching in either direction for as far as the eye could see. Something to think about.

  The villa was four square, with a central courtyard, and the lunch Lumbrera’s cook had provided had indeed been superb. Too good, indeed, as together with the large amount of wine she had had to drink it had induced a definite feeling of lassitude which was not what she wanted at all. And the four policemen had remained in the next room while she and the Colonel had eaten. Possibly they were merely intended to guard their superior from assassination, as he had to be the best hated man in all Cuba, but they were also an enormous obstacle to be overcome. She knew, however, that she possessed one equally important asset; as what Lumbrera was doing would undoubtedly be frowned upon by his superiors, there was no one else in El Caney, including the soldiers of the garrison, who knew she was there. Elude the four guards, particularly were Lumbrera not around to tell them whether or not to summon a
general pursuit, and she felt she had a good chance.

  But first, and for some time to come, there was the man to be endured; she could make no move until well after dark, and it was still only four-thirty in the afternoon when they finally left the table. It was so long since she had had sex with anyone she felt like a virgin, and the entire concept of having sex with Lumbrera was revolting. But if it had to be done, then she would do it. Just as she would do whatever had to be done afterwards. Her mind must be as steeled as Christina’s, her hatred not a shade less venomous. Just for a little while.

  She turned to face the door. ‘I am ready,’ she said.

  Lumbrera allowed the photographer to bustle in with all his paraphernalia. He gave her an embarrassed smile as he erected his camera; he was the same man as had photographed her when she had arrived at the internment camp.

  Lumbrera sat beside Toni on the bed; he wore a yellow and red undressing gown, and his hairy legs stuck out from underneath. ‘I think you should display more intimacy,’ he suggested.’

  ‘Of course.’ Toni pulled the strap of her nightgown from her shoulder, to expose her right breast, put her arm round Lumbrera’s shoulders, and held her lips close to his cheek.

  ‘That is very good,’ the photographer said. ‘It will make a pretty picture.’ The lamp glowed, the smoke puffed. ‘Very nice. I will take another to make sure.’