Love Beyond: Walang Hanggang Pagmamahal

by Grant Leishman

  He stood stock-still, for quite a few minutes, just watching the scurrying activity all around him. It appeared all the fires were now under control and the men were engaged in tidying up work or damping down hotspots. He took his bandanna from around his neck and wiped a forehead glistening with a thick sheen of perspiration. Above the tumult, he could swear he heard the high-pitched sound of a woman screaming. Oh my God, he thought, Minda! I must get to her and help her. Realising he would need weapons, he ran first to the armoury, which although destroyed had a stack of rifles, pistols, and swords lying on the ground a few feet away from the smouldering rubble. Hernando picked up the nearest sword and strapped it around his waist. Grabbing a pistol, he flicked open the chambers and was gratified to see it was fully-loaded. He stuck the pistol behind his back, thrusting it into the waistband of his breeches. Finally, he chose two razor-sharp daggers, which he slid into both sides of his waist, held in place by his belt. Fully armed now, the shrill sound of Minda screaming again got his immediate attention. Even in his panic, he calmly noted that the scream had not been one of agony, but rather one of shouted abuse. He smiled to himself. His Minda would not give in easily. He rushed in the direction of the stables and burst through the double doors, drawing his sabre as he went.

  ***

  LUZVIMINDA:

  Lying on the straw floor, wracked with pain from where the Commandante had kicked her, a variety of emotions poured through Minda’s mind. She was determined she would not give up the names of her KKK friends, although she was well aware that would almost certainly result in her execution in the morning. I will die with dignity, she thought, but then shivered at the anticipation of the event. God, I just hope they do it quickly and I die immediately, not slowly, bleeding all over the parade ground. Despite her injuries, she still managed a smile as she recalled her afternoon of pleasure with her beloved, Hernando. Where is he now? She wondered. She prayed he was still camping out by the river and didn’t have to witness her execution. It would be so much easier for him if he discovered the fact after the event and then he wouldn’t have to torment himself with guilt for not being there or doing anything to stop it. She knew his first loyalty was to Spain and even he loved her, he would not sacrifice his career, his reputation, and his family, for her. She was glad of that, proud of him, even. Her man was an honourable man and he wasn’t about to throw everything away, despite their love. She smiled and reminded herself that one day they would be in heaven together – one day they would have their time.

  Thoughts of Hernando and that afternoon distracted her to the point she didn’t even hear the soldiers enter the barn. She was lying back on the straw, a secret grin crossing her face, when she felt the sharp tip of a sword flick the top of her blouse. Minda’s eyes flew open and she gasped when she saw five men around her, clustered in a semi-circle. Their faces betrayed their feelings as their lips were curled in lustful sneers, as they gazed down at her now squirming form. “Hey little whore,” the one who was holding the sword, mocked her derisively. “Commandante wants us to soften you up a little bit for his interrogation,” he taunted.

  Minda pushed herself half-upright and shuffled backwards towards the wall she was tethered to. When she could retreat no further she looked up into the man’s face and noticed, first of all, his eyes. They were brown, like hers, but they betrayed a drunken, crazed, lust-fever that had overtaken him. She shrank inwardly at the coldness and callousness she could see there. This was not going to end well for her, of that she was certain. “W… w… w… what do you want from me?” she managed to stutter, annoyed at herself for betraying her fear to these bastards.

  The man’s chuckle was positively evil as he leant closer and she could smell the sweat and alcohol that poured freely from his body. “Well, little missy, what me and the fellows want from you, is a bit of the old native, if you know what I mean.” He flicked his sword against the top of Minda’s blouse and ripped it down, slicing her blouse and her under-slip, from the neck to her waist, also drawing a thin line of blood that oozed from the wound. Unable to move, she sat there shocked and stunned as the soldiers’ ogled her breasts. Something snapped in her mind and she decided that if they were going to rape her, she was at least going to be defiant even if she couldn’t do anything to stop them.

  Thrusting her chin out, she sat up straight and proudly displayed her breasts to the men. “Is this the only way you can get some, is it? By taking it forcefully? You are a bunch of pathetic, drunken lowlifes who are a disgrace to your culture and your nation. This is exactly the reason I joined the KKK, to eliminate your festering sore from our beautiful country. You are scum! ‘Kami ay Malaya, ipinagmamalaki naming ito! Mabuhay ang Pilipinas’ (We are free and proud of it – Long live The Philippines).” She then spat in the man’s face as he leant over her, reaching to grab her exposed breasts.

  “Why, you cheap little slut!” the soldier roared in anger as he wiped her spittle from his eyes. “You will pay for that, you dark-skinned devil.” He lifted his sword and using the flat of the blade swung as hard as he could at her head. The crack, as the blade made contact with the side of her head, reverberated around the stable and quivered down the man’s arm. The pain was intense, but the force of the blow had snapped her head back, making contact with the barn wall and thankfully allowing her the pain-free release of unconsciousness.

  As her mind sank into the bliss of oblivion, her last conscious thought was of Hernando. “I love you my darling,” she whispered to herself as she sank into the welcome arms of darkness.

  When the soldier realised his blow had sent Minda into unconsciousness, he seemed genuinely perturbed. “Oh well, chaps,” he began. “I guess she’s not going to feel too much if she’s asleep, but still, we gotta do what we gotta do, right? Commandante’s orders, after all.” He looked around the other four. “So, who’s going first,” he asked, however, he was already undoing his own breeches and dropping them to the floor. Two of the younger privates looked away, disgust evident on their faces, but that only served to embolden the soldier. “What are you? Bleedin’ wimps of something? Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done.” He bent down, undoing her ankle irons with a key, before pulling Minda’s breeches down over her legs and tossing them into the middle of the floor. “Right,” he chuckled lasciviously, “let’s see what this little beauty has to offer us, shall we?” Kneeling between her now spread legs, he reached for her underwear to pull it down also, when there was a crash behind him, as someone barged through the barricaded stable door.

  ***

  When Hernando first charged through the door, he looked around at the dimly lit scene, trying to take in exactly what was happening in here. When he saw the soldier kneeling between his Minda’s spread legs, his blood boiled and his rage grew. Without even thinking, he rushed forward and swung his sword with all the righteous force and anger he had inside of him. The finely honed blade had no trouble slicing through the soldier’s neck and severing the head from the body completely. He glanced down, in horror, at what he had just done and was oddly, mildly amused at the expression of utter shock on the face that stared back at him, from the floor. The man’s eyes were wide open and his mouth gaped in the shape of an O. Hernando gave it scant regard though, as he spun around to confront the other four soldiers in the stable. “What the hell do you think you lot are doing in here? Interfering with a prisoner, raping her! Is that what we trained for in Spain? Is that what proud Spanish soldiers are taught to do? My God, you lot disgust me.”

  The soldiers couldn’t take their eyes off the sight of their decapitated comrade and the two younger men even began to quietly weep. The third, an older, grizzled, veteran, however, was not so overcome and drew his sword, standing ready to attack Hernando. “She’s just a village whore and more to the point, Captain, she’s a filthy, bloody rebel. She deserves what she was going to get.” He spat at Hernando’s feet, before adding. “The bitch will be dead tomorrow anyway and I personally hope I get lucky enough to draw
the firing-squad routine. Another dead rebel is a good thing, Captain!” He moved forward menacingly toward Hernando, who took an involuntary step backwards. He looked at the soldier’s face and quickly realised there was no easy way out of this situation. The man clearly intended to fight him and perhaps even kill him. He reached around to the small of his back and pulled his pistol from his breeches, pointing it at the head of the argumentative soldier.

  “Don’t come any closer Private, or it will be the last thing you will ever do.”

  The soldier sneered at Hernando and thrust forward with his sword, aiming at his unprotected stomach. Well trained in swordplay, Hernando swayed away from the parry and realising he was left with no other option, fired his pistol once. The bullet found its mark, from almost point blank range and slammed into the soldier’s forehead, leaving a perfectly formed circle right above his nose. He grunted once, before collapsing in a heap on the ground, dead before he even hit the straw. Hernando swung around to confront the remaining three soldiers. “Anyone else wants to be stupid?” he demanded of them.

  The two young soldiers just whimpered and moved further away from the carnage, but the last of the men, raised his hands, palms outwards in a sign of compliance and softly replied, “Captain, you have made a massive mistake tonight. You have forfeited your life. The Commandante will hunt you down, have no doubt of that. I will hunt you down. You are finished, Captain.”

  Hernando’s lips twisted into a wry grimace. “You may be right, Private, but nonetheless, what is done is done and I have to live by my choices.” Waving his pistol at the three remaining men, he indicated they should sit down on the straw next to Minda, who was still unconscious, although Hernando was relieved to see her breasts rising and falling rhythmically. She was still breathing and that was all that mattered. Once the soldiers were seated, he undid the arm irons on her and attached them to the soldier who had spoken to him, along with the leg irons. Ripping two lengths of cloth from Minda’s torn blouse he stuffed one into the soldier’s mouth and used the other one to tie a gag in place.

  Casting around the barn he noticed some bridles and other tack hanging from one of the walls. Grabbing them he quickly used them to tie up the two younger soldiers, who were cringing in the corner, trying not to weep. Hernando was overwhelmed with compassion for his young comrades. Kneeling down, he lifted both of their chins in either hand and looked them both in the eyes. “I know you two don’t agree with what was happening here tonight, but I also know you are appalled by my actions.” He paused and gently squeezed both men’s chins. “Just remember, what I have done here tonight is to the honour of Spain, not to her detriment. We are civilised human beings, men, not animals and what you witnessed here tonight was animals rutting. I had to act.” He smiled at the pair. “Okay, I won’t gag you, if you will give me your word, as Spanish gentlemen that you will give me five minutes to get out of here before you shout for help.” He gently squeezed their chins again.

  The soldiers both nodded quietly, not trusting themselves to speak. Hernando let go of their chins and patted them both on the head. “That’s good, now give me five minutes, mind.” He stood and walked across to Minda who was now semi-conscious and moaning softly. “Oh, my poor darling,” he whispered to her. “Don’t worry, my love, we’ll be out of here quickly. Just put your arms around my neck.” In her confused and dazed mind, she somehow registered it was Hernando speaking to her and she whimpered softly, before snaking her arms around his neck. Grunting, he stretched and lifted her into his arms. He knew his horse, which he’d abandoned by the gate to the camp would have found its own way back to the stables and was probably standing impatiently outside wondering why his man hadn’t fed him yet and brushed him down. Hernando, staggering, just a little, under the weight of his Minda, headed for the stable door. Glancing back at the two young soldiers, he noticed both of them were smiling softly. Hernando tipped his hat to them and snapped a sharp, military salute. He couldn’t hear the voice, but could read the lips when one of them mouthed, “good luck, Sir.”

  Hernando nodded and smiled again before exiting the stable and finding his mount, exactly where he expected him to be, right outside the door. Placing Minda on the rump of his horse, he jumped on and grabbed her arms so they were pulled around his waist. Leaning back, he instructed her, “hold on tight and make sure you link your fingers. This is going to be one hell of a ride.” He felt her nod her head slightly and tighten the grip around his waist. He glanced up at the main gate and realised it was still wide open and unguarded. Nobody, it seemed, had taken control of the clean-up team and reorganised the camp security. He chuckled to himself as he realised, of course, nobody had done it; that was his job, after all.

  Slapping his horse softly on the rump and digging his heels into the horse’s flanks he spurred it into a gallop and raced through the inviting open gate and on to… an uncertain future, but one that, at least, included his beloved Minda.

  ***

  TOGETHER AT LAST:

  As they sped away from the camp, Hernando’s mind was racing. He had no idea where to go or what to do next. His initial thoughts were to take Minda home to her parents, but he immediately discounted that idea. They know who she is and that’s the first place they’ll look, he decided. As they galloped toward the town centre, he could feel Minda exerting pressure on his waist. Turning his head to look at her, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Where you were camping Hernando. That’s where we should go first. We need to talk.” He smiled back at her. Smart girl, even after everything she’s been through tonight, she can still think clearly. Yes, that spot by the river, that would be perfect for now and Minda’s right, we sure as hell, do need to talk. What have I done? Was the predominant thought running through his mind. What have I done?

  It took them a good hour, in the darkness, to reach the spot where they had first made love. As Hernando reined in his horse, he slid to the ground and reached up to grab Minda by the waist, who, by this time, was swaying ominously on top of the horse. The events of the night were finally catching up with her and she was shivering badly. As she slid down off the horse and into his arms, he realised she was half naked. Her blouse was virtually gone and she had left her breeches at the barn where the soldier had thrown them. He mentally chided himself for being so unthinking. Of course, she would be shaking, after everything that had happened to her and here, now in the dead of night, she was probably cold. As if, to confirm his thoughts, Minda clung to him with passion, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Hernando, darling, hold me tight please, I’m s… s… so, s… s… so, cold,” she shivered against his neck.

  Gently, he laid her underneath the spreading tree, near the water’s edge and took time to examine the sword wound on her front. The sword had only made a small incision and thankfully the bleeding had already stopped, but he knew she would forever bear a nasty scar there. “Wait here,” he whispered, “I’ll only be a minute.” He sprinted to the water’s edge and dipped his neckerchief into the fast-flowing and chilly waters.

  Once it was soaking wet he returned and gently sponged the blood off Minda’s breasts, chest and stomach. She smiled at the amazing gentleness in his fingers. For a tall, powerful man, Hernando had an incredibly soft and thoughtful touch. She winced slightly when he wiped the last of the blood away, but still managed to mumble a quiet, “thank you,” to him. Quickly he ripped off his cape and wrapped it around her to cover both her modesty and her goose-bumps. He wryly wondered if the goose-bumps were from the cold, or maybe excitement, from his fingers stroking her skin.

  Once he had her well and truly swaddled inside his large cape, he sat down beside her and lovingly brushed her lustrous hair away from her face. “Oh, my darling,” he murmured, “whatever are we to do now? What will become of us?”

  Minda, her eyes already drooping, reached up a hand to grab his wrist. “It doesn’t matter what happens next Hernando, because whatever it is, we will face it together. I don’t fear the future,
my love, as long as that future has you beside me.” She yawned dramatically, before adding, “I love you. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before, now, or in the future. Our destiny lies in each other’s hands and I couldn’t be happier about that.” The effort and the emotion overcame her and she lay back on the ground, eyes closed and a gentle smile playing around her lips.

  Hernando looked down at her, his love written all over his face and his eyes glistening with tears. “Yes, my love, yes, we are together now and nothing will break us apart. Somehow we will cope with this, somehow we will survive…” he paused, before adding softly, “… or, we will die together, arm in arm. I love you too Luzviminda Torres. Now sleep my darling. Dawn will be here before we know it and we need to get as much rest as possible before we figure out what to do next.” Minda needed no second invitation and her head lolled to one side as she fell into a deep sleep, her face creased by a broad grin. Hernando sat watching her, in the moonlight, for some time, before he also lay down and closed his eyes, but for Hernando, sleep was to be elusive that night.

  He lay there, listening to the sounds of the forest, the birds, the night insects, the animals, the rushing of the nearby river and the melodic sound of the beautiful woman lying next to him, sleeping softly and soundly. He thought over the events of the evening and asked himself whether or not he could have done anything differently. Although he was saddened by the necessity to have killed two of his comrades, he still felt he was justified in his actions. The men were behaving like animals and, like animals that had gone rabid, he had put them down. Ultimately, though, as many times as he replayed the scenarios in his head, every time he came to one, last, inescapable conclusion. If he was to save Minda and when he thought about it, that was his paramount concern, then things were always going to turn out the way they did. He was always going to wind up being a traitor, a renegade, a deserter, and a man wanted by his own country for treason. For the rest of his life, he was going to be looking over his shoulder wondering not if, but when, the Spanish Army would catch up with him. “I can forget ever going home again, now,” he muttered under his breath, careful not to wake his beloved Minda. My dream of marrying her and living in Spain is history now, he thought. He slapped the ground beside him with one hand. “To hell with it!” he exclaimed. “I did the right thing, I know I did and now Minda and I have just got to make the best of where we are… and she’s right, at least we’re together. That’s all that matters.” He heard her stir in her sleep, at his exclamations and he giggled, whispering “shhhh!” to himself.