The Hummingbird's Daughter_ A Novel - Luis Alberto Urrea [72]
“Yes.”
“You can teach.”
“I suppose. I have never given formal lessons —”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Huila said. “You, Lauro Aguirre, give us church.”
“Madame, I am no priest!” he protested.
“You can read—read the priest book.”
She took Teresita’s hand and led her away.
Thus did the Masonic Methodist Aguirre temporarily become the priest of Cabora. The People gathered on benches and rocks and they sat cross-legged in the dirt if they lacked a seat. Aguirre read to them from the twenty-third psalm, which comforted the People, though they asked him to put it in cattle terms, since so few of them knew sheep. Aguirre, abashed by the prospect of rewriting scripture, though he did not accept the scripture as a strictly infallible historical document, gamely bellowed, “The Lord is my buckaroo!”
Don Lauro, being Don Lauro, was quickly taken with his role as minister to the People. He instigated an afternoon salon, where he could lecture them on affairs historical or philosophical. Each day at three, they gathered near his bed under the great tree and heard talks on animal magnetism, the zodiac, the political machinations of the Díaz regime. In a lecture Aguirre had entitled “The Curious Yet True Adventures of Papantzín, Sister of Moctezuma, in the Afterlife—Known to Us as Heaven—in Company of the Great Architect Himself—Called by the Catholics by the Name of Jesus Christ,” Don Lauro told of the days when the high Aztec priests had seen signs of the end of the world. There were comets in the sky and wailing spirits in the streets; indeed, he explained, the terrible Mexican ghost, La Llorona, originally frightened the Aztecs when she made her ghastly debut in their alleys. Their calendar was coming to its cyclic end—the dreaded Nemontemi, the era between eras, had begun. And messengers had come from the coast with the terrible news that great white seabirds lay on the ocean, and upon these white-winged birds were the minions of Quetzalcoatl, bearded gods returned from the land of the sunrise. Today, all understood that these birds were ships, and the gods upon them were merely Spaniards. But the fear in Tenochtitlán, Center of the One World, was great in those ancient days.
And Papantzín, sister of Moctezuma the king, lay abed, sick with fevers and weak. So weak was she that she died. And upon dying, she found herself in Heaven.
Teresita sat, as always, in the front of the crowd, chin resting on both fists as she listened.
“Papantzín later told Moctezuma what she had seen, for Papantzín did return from the dead! Oh yes, Papantzín was sent back from Heaven with a warning—a warning to the populace about the ravages of unjust rule!” Aguirre cleared his throat and went on: “Papantzín was greeted in the land of the dead by a fair man in a white robe.” The People crossed themselves. They knew a Jesus reference when they heard it. “He took her through valleys and dales, where she saw rivers and doves.” Everybody nodded. “But the Lord took her to a dark and terrible valley. And this valley was filled with bones.” They gasped. “Bones! Human bones! Skulls. And he said, ‘Behold, your people.’ For, the Lord warned Papantzín, her own people would be destroyed through their own ignorance. Their beliefs would destroy them. And Papantzín awoke in the tomb.”
They bowed their heads.
“Can you imagine? Can you envision the deisidaimonia of the Aztecs upon her reawakening?”
They said, What did he say?
“At first, no one would come near the tomb, for fear that she was a ghost, some demon sent to harm them.”
Teresita pressed her palms to her face.
“And then?” she blurted, but heard no answer, for the People were turning and rising, and there came the sound of snorting horses and hooves, and then they were all up and running to see the patrón.
Aguirre lowered his book and said, “Well, well.”
He was relieved that his friend was back, apparently in one piece. But he was also a bit irritated that his talk was cut short. And he was alarmed to see that Tomás was