Love Beyond: Walang Hanggang Pagmamahal

by Grant Leishman

  She took a deep breath and ran into the main courtyard, looking around in the darkness for her comrades. She drew the pistol she had been issued with, from underneath her skirt and stood in the centre of the courtyard, swinging around looking for a target. As she saw someone emerge from the barracks, trying desperately to pull his uniform pants up, she levelled the pistol in his direction, the way she had been taught and regulating her breathing, gently pulled the trigger. Minda didn’t even hear the gun go off, let alone know if it came even close to its target, as she was engulfed in a cacophony of noise and a ball of flame, as the first of the explosions set by the revolutionaries, was detonated. She didn’t even see the soldier, who had rushed up behind her and clubbed her violently across the back of her skull, with his rifle butt. Minda’s world went black...

  ***

  When she finally woke, Minda was lying on a straw floor, the smell of horse manure acrid in her nostrils. Her head felt like it had been crushed between the jaws of a vice and she could feel the warm trickle of blood running down the back of her head and pooling in the collar of her blouse. It was when she reached to feel the back of her head that she understood her hands were manacled, with heavy, cast iron cuffs and she could hear the jangle of the chains that led to similar iron cuffs around her ankles.

  Moaning slightly, she tried to lift her head and peer in the direction of the faint light that came from a torch, thrust into a wall holder. She could see a chair and an indistinct figure sitting in it. At the sound of her moan, the soldier, for that is what he was, suddenly came alert and jumped to his feet, the chair skittering backwards in the straw as he did so.

  “Ahhh, our pretty, little revolutionary is awake is she?” He wandered across to her, before nudging her with his boot. “Well, you just stay there, eh. I think our Commandante would like to have a little word or two with you, first.” The soldier sneered as he added the word ‘first’, as if to emphasise her fate was to be much worse, eventually, than a simple interrogation by the camp Commandante. The soldier gave her painful ribs another sharp poke, before turning on his heels and exiting the stable.

  Minda was terrified about what was to come, but she was equally concerned about the fate of her comrades and whether their mission had been a success or not. Twisting around so she could see out the door the soldier had exited from, a small smile crossed her lips as she saw the flickering glow of what were obviously many fires that raged around the Spanish camp. Well, at least they had succeeded in making some inroads into destroying the hated Spanish camp. The fact that she seemed to be the only prisoner in the stables, also gave her significant comfort. Maybe her friends had escaped? She certainly hoped so. Escaped, to fight another day, she thought, which is more than I can say for me. She wasn’t stupid and she knew the punishment for sabotage was death – death by firing squad, no less. Despite the frightening prospect of ending her life at such a tender age, she wasn’t overwhelmed by the thought. At least I’ll die a hero, she smiled wryly to herself. Maybe I’ll even be considered a martyr to the cause of Filipino freedom. She took some comfort from that thought.

  Oddly enough, her main thought was not of her impending demise, but rather of her beloved Hernando. What would he say when he found out that she, the love of his life, was, in reality, an accursed revolutionary? Would he still love her? Would he be proud of her, or would he despise her, himself and their love? She hoped not. She truly believed their love was destined, perfect, and transcended such things as the political, cultural and economic divides. She determined, at that moment, to go to her death proudly proclaiming the rightness of the Filipino struggle and her love for Captain Hernando de Abreu, even if the last proclamation would only be made in silence, to a God that she didn’t even believe in. She knew she needed to protect her beloved and she would never intentionally cause suspicion to rain down on him.

  Her introspection was broken by the entrance, into the stable, of the camp Commandante and six soldiers. The soldiers were laughing amongst themselves and Minda couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps they already had the damage, caused by the saboteurs, under control. The Commandante strode to the one chair in the stable and pulling it close to where Minda lay, he sat facing her, before leaning down and lifting her chin, with his fingers, so she was looking directly into his eyes.

  She could smell the rancidness that seemed to permeate all these foreigners, except her beloved Hernando, of course. She even smiled at that thought, which seemed somewhat to unsettle the Commandante.

  “What in the hell have you got to smile about young lady? You are about to die – you should be terrified. Yes, you are about to die... unless...” He left the ‘unless’ just hanging there in the air and let go of her face before sitting back heavily on his chair, his arms folded across his ample belly. He sat there, the silence pregnant in the air. He clearly wanted her to respond, but she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. Instead, she spat on his shiny, glistening boots.

  His response was both swift and violent, as he lashed out with the offended boot and kicked Minda directly on her jaw, sprawling her backwards on the dirty bed of straw. She lay there, a few seconds, flashes of coloured pain racing through her skull. Twisting her jaw from side to side, she deduced he hadn’t managed to break it and eventually she wriggled herself upright again so she could stare at him, defiance ablaze in those dark brown eyes.

  The Commandante smiled at her bravado and grabbing her face between his fingers, he squeezed tightly on the place where his boot had so recently made connection, causing her to wince and squeal at the pain. He chuckled softly. “Right, now that the preliminaries are out the way young lady, here’s the deal.” He squeezed her face again, just to make sure she was focused on him, before adding, “you, will tell me the names and addresses of all the criminals that accompanied you here tonight, as well as the names and addresses of the leaders of your organisation. For that small piece of information, I am prepared to be lenient with you. If you give me these details, I will release you with a warning only.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully, “right, start talking girlie... and start talking now!”

  She screwed her face up contemptuously and spat at him. Pulling herself up, she thrust her chin out at him. “My name is Luzviminda Torres and I am a proud revolutionary of the Free Philippine Army.” Realising she had already said way too much, she squinted her eyes before adding, “and you can go to hell you arrogant bastard. You won’t get another thing out of me, rest assured of that.” She made a futile gesture of spitting on his boot again, but he was prepared this time and swung his foot once again to connect with her thrust forward jaw.

  Sprawled, again, on the straw floor, she decided not to try and face him again. There seemed no point. She wasn’t going to talk and for sure, he would just try to hit her again. She lay there and curled her legs up against her stomach, in the foetal position, moaning softly, in the hope it would discourage him from continuing the interrogation. She heard his chair scrape back and his heavy footfall as he walked to stand over her.

  “We will talk again, young lady, trust me on this. You will tell me what I want to know.” There was a brief, ominous pause before he added, “or, you will be shot, at dawn, tomorrow morning. Think about it – you are way too young and beautiful to want to die for a bunch of common criminals who might call themselves revolutionaries.” With that, she heard him walk away. She continued to rock gently, moaning softly as she heard the Commandante and his men leave the stable. Risking a quick glance around her, she was pleased to see they had left her alone – presumably to contemplate her imminent demise, in peace.

  Smiling softly to herself, she knew there was nothing to contemplate. She was prepared, she was ready, and she drifted off to sleep, the face of her beloved floated across her consciousness and the smile just deepened...

  ***

  HERNANDO:

  Hernando gave a gentle exhalation of breath, as something nudged him awake from his passionate dream of love-making. “Damn!�
�� he cursed softly to himself, as he sat up from his resting place under the tree. “That was some dream.” He couldn’t contain his grin as he replayed the highlights of both the real and the dreamt passion he and Minda had expended. Looking around his campsite he could still see the faint, last light of the already disappeared sun. He knew he hadn’t been asleep for very long, but the dream had seemed to go on forever. Among the darkening shadows, he could just see the silver ribbon that was the river, where Minda and he had bathed. In the stillness of the dark, he listened intently to the sounds of the insects, the babbling of the river and the call of some wild animal, out across the plains. He realised, with a start, that probably for the first time in his young life, he was contented, he was satisfied, and he was exactly where he was supposed to be, at the time he was supposed to be there – Hernando was in love.

  Deciding to have a quick bathe and wash the sweat from his body, he quickly shucked his clothes and ran, naked, into the now, slightly chilly river, whooping with a combination of shock at the cold and the joy of the freedom he felt in his heart. After a quick lather and rinse, he emerged, like a dog, shaking his head from side to side as his long, auburn locks shook out the excess water. He felt carefree and happy as he plonked himself down beside his backpack and considered what to do now. No longer feeling like sleep, his body aquiver with excitement and anticipation, he couldn’t imagine any point in staying here any longer. Minda would not come back. She had to go home. As he thought about her and pictured her beautiful face, leaning down over him, her hair swaying against his chest as she’d ridden him furiously, like a woman skilled in the arts of love, he concocted a plan. I have to see her again and I have to see her tonight. Glancing down at his still naked body he could clearly see and feel that his anatomy agreed entirely with that proposition. Yes, I’ll head back to town and try and get to see her, he decided. He had no idea in the world how he was going to manage a secret assignation with her, without alerting her parents, or indeed her many siblings, but he didn’t care. All he knew was he couldn’t go another minute without seeing her, without holding her, without touching her, without…

  He threw on his clothes as quickly as he could, over his still damp body and grabbing his backpack, he ran over to where he had tied up his horse earlier, undoing the lead and jumping on in one fluid motion. As he sped down the tracks towards the main road into town, he found himself whistling and then singing an old Basque folk-song his nursemaid would sing to him when he was trying to get to sleep. As he drew closer to the town, he could see a distant, red-glow lighting up the horizon and his stomach clenched, as he realised it was coming from the direction of their camp. Fearing the worst, he spurred his mount on and raced through the town’s main-street completely forgetting his intentions to visit Minda’s house. Something was wrong at their camp and he knew he needed to get there as quickly as possible.

  Reining his horse to a halt at the camp’s now wide open gates, he surveyed, with horror, the scene that confronted him. Most of the buildings were ablaze and he could see soldiers scampering about, carrying buckets and fruitlessly trying to dampen down the roaring flames. Jumping down from his horse, he looked around for someone he recognised. A young soldier, his hair plastered to his forehead with perspiration, with a face streaked with black smudges of soot, skidded to a stop in front of him, snapping a hurried salute. “Captain de Abreu, you’re back. Sir, the rebels have been here and set explosives all over the camp.”

  Hernando knew the young man but was somewhat ashamed that he couldn’t remember the soldier’s name. “Son, where is the Commandante?” he demanded.

  “Ahhhm, I’m not sure, Sir. I think he may well be in the stables.” The soldier’s head spun around looking at the carnage. “As you can see, Sir, the main office block has pretty much been destroyed. I think he has a rebel prisoner in the stables, that he’s interrogating… but to be honest, Sir, it’s all pretty much chaos at the moment, so I couldn’t be sure.”

  Hernando gently slapped the young man on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Private. I’ll find him. You carry on, eh, and see if you can get this mess under control.” With a military snap, the Private sprang to attention, saluted Hernando and tore off in the direction of the well, with his bucket. Hernando glanced over toward the stables and noted they seemed relatively unscathed. Well, first things first, he thought, I’d better find the Commandante.

  Finding his superior officer was not a problem, as Hernando heard a stentorian voice roar out of the darkness. “De Abreu! Just the very man I want to see. Get over here now!” The tone in the Commandante’s voice left absolutely no room for doubt. The man was furious. Hernando quickly ran across the parade ground to find him standing in front of what used to be the main military office-complex at the camp, but was now nothing more than a twisted, smouldering mess. All of the offices, the mess and the hospital wing at the camp were destroyed totally. The Commandante was standing there, shaking his head from side to side and angrily slapping his thigh with his riding crop.

  Hernando snapped to attention in front of the man and threw him a perfectly crisp, military salute. Commandante de la Plage turned slowly to face his Captain, his dark eyes flashing with fury. Hernando shrank back slightly at the ferocity of his stare. “Sir,” Hernando began hesitantly, “Sir, I’m sorry I wasn’t here when this happened. What can I do to help?”

  De la Plage regarded his junior officer carefully, for some time. “Do to help de Abreu? Do to help? Hmmm, I should think there’s quite a lot you could do to help.” Hernando looked at him expectantly and raised a cautious eyebrow, seeking clarification. “For a start de Abreu! You could begin by explaining to me why a woman, who several men have already told me, is ‘well-known’ to you, appears to be one of the rebel perpetrators of this heinous act.”

  Hernando swallowed deeply, thinking to himself, no… no… no… surely not Minda? Surely she’s not tied up in this rebel cause? He spluttered a little before finally managing to squeeze out, “ahhhm, I’m confused Sir, who are we talking about?”

  The corner of the Commandante’s lips curled up in a sarcastic sneer as he spat out the words at Hernando. “Luzviminda Torres, she says her name is. Are you trying to tell me you don’t know her?”

  His mind was going a hundred-miles-an-hour as he tried to process the information that somehow his Minda… his beautiful, darling Minda, was caught up in this madness, this revolutionary insanity. No! It can’t possibly be true! Licking his dry lips, he managed to say, “well… yes, I guess I do know a Senorita Torres, but not in the way you are suggesting, Sir. I mean, I hardly know the girl at all, if truth be told.” He pulled himself upright and gathered his thoughts. “What, I mean, Sir, is I met her, when my troop accidentally ran her family off the road, a few Sunday’s back. They ended up in a rice field and Senorita Torres was injured, so I brought her back to the camp and tended her injuries.” He rubbed and pulled the end of his beard, before adding, “that’s the full extent of my knowledge of the girl, Sir.” Something, though, was nagging at the back of Hernando’s brain and then suddenly it hit him like a ton of bricks. “Sir, can I ask, Sir, how did you know Senorita Torres’ name?”

  For the first time that night Commandante de la Plage’s face split into a grin, although to Hernando it looked like the malevolent smirk of a predator before he devours his prey. “Ah, yes, well, you see de Abreu, while you were off having your much-needed rest and recreation I was busy capturing one of these accursed saboteurs. Yes, indeed,” he chuckled mirthlessly. “I even have the lovely Miss Torres manacled and chained in the stables, ready for my further interrogation.” He leant in close to Hernando as if passing him some highly confidential information. “For now, though, I’ve left her for some of the lower-ranks to have a bit of fun with. They’ve had a busy night, what with fighting the rebels and then trying to douse these blazes, that I thought a pretty, captive, native girl, might be just the ticket to make them all feel better.” He nudged Hernando conspiratorially and
even had the gall to wink at him.

  Noticing the abject horror that crossed Hernando’s face, at the mention of the soldiers, he quickly became totally business-like again, as he added, “I will interrogate her again in a couple of hours and once I have the information on the rest of these damn rebels, well… obviously, I’ll execute the murdering, little bitch.” Slapping Hernando on the shoulder, he laughed cruelly. “Now, there’s a thought, isn’t it? I think that you, my good Captain de Abreu, shall be the officer in charge of the firing squad. What say you to that?” Commandante de la Plage roared with laughter, as he finished.

  Hernando stood there, dumbstruck by the turn of events. All he could think about right then was that any number of soldiers might be in that stable, despoiling and raping his beloved Minda. Casting a quick glance across to the stables he knew he couldn’t let that happen. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he knew, in his heart of hearts that his love for Luzviminda trumped any real or imagined duty to Commandante de la Plage, his family, or indeed Spain. He knew his life would never be the same again, but he also knew he couldn’t possibly live with himself if he allowed anything to happen to her. Pulling himself upright, he snapped to attention and addressed his superior officer. “Of course, Sir. It would be my honour and privilege to lead the firing squad that puts an end to even one of these traitorous scum’s lives.”

  Commandante de la Plage seemed genuinely surprised by the passion and commitment evident in Hernando’s voice, but nonetheless, he smiled at the young Captain. “Good man… good man!” Well, you’d better get over to the well, get yourself cleaned up and get some sleep. You have an early start tomorrow, yes!” He looked around the camp and pointed to a row of tents that had been erected at the far western palisade. “There’re some camp beds set up in those tents, de Abreu. Go get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning. Now, I have some organising of the men to do and then a spot of serious interrogation is in order, so I’d better be moving.” With that, de la Plage spun on his heels and marched across the parade ground, leaving a dejected and worried Hernando, standing alone.