FELIPE MEETS THE NEW PRIEST
Felipe sat next to Don Diego in the carriage as they approached the mission. A cool breeze ruffled his hair; it felt good. The horses' familiar clop-clop! sounded as they trotted down the well-worn path toward the pueblo de Los Angeles.
Felipe smiled broadly. He had so looked forward to this moment! It would be Felipe’s first meeting with the new priest, Padre Benitez, and he couldn’t wait. He shifted position on the hard, unyielding driver's seat of the carriage.
Don Diego chuckled at the servant boy’s excitement. “Not to worry, amigo,” he said. “He’ll be there, waiting for us. He promised me.” Felipe nodded. He glanced down at the sash wrapped around his waist, sheltering his rosary beads. His late mother had bequeathed them to him shortly before her death and that of his father, when he was seven years old.
As the events of the past few days rose in his memory, he smiled wryly. Only two days before, he had dreaded to meet the new priest. The man who had taken over the mission, replacing the deceased Padre Bernardo, had turned out to be a cruel, ruthless slave driver who had mistreated the mission servants, framed one of them--Carlos Fernandez--for stealing, and, as it turned out, kidnapped the real padre so he could impersonate him. In his heart, Felipe had feared and dreaded the moment when he must meet “Padre Benitez,” whose real name, he’d later learned, was Zaragosa.
Although Felipe lived with, and worked for, the de la Vegas, they were not his legal guardians--the church was. The de la Vegas had hired him to be an indentured servant when he was seven, because the mission had been overrun with orphans at the time. As a ward of the church, Felipe knew that the new priest could have demanded that Felipe return to the church to live and work. Having heard horror stories of “Benitez’s” cruel treatment of his employees, Felipe had been frightened to think he might have become subject to that same treatment.
A touch on his shoulder brought Felipe out of his reverie, and he looked up to see Don Diego’s sympathetic smile. Diego, it seemed, had a way of knowing what Felipe was feeling. “Not to worry,” the caballero told him. “If Zaragosa had tried to force you to return to the mission, Zorro would have dealt with him in short order. I will allow no one to mistreat you, Felipe.”
The young boy smiled. Knowing Don Diego, he didn’t doubt that for a minute. At the same time, he wondered, How did he know I was worried? He had said nothing to his patrón about his fears during the impostor’s mercifully stay at the mission.
“Whoa,” Don Diego told the horses; they stopped. As he and Felipe climbed down from the driver‘s seat, a dark-haired man wearing a familiar dark-brown woolen habit and sandals approached them. “Diego!” He extended his hand as he reached them.
Don Diego shook the priest’s hand. “Padre, meet Felipe, our servant boy and your legal ward. Felipe, this is Padre Benitez.”
“Hello, Felipe.” The priest patted Felipe’s shoulder. “Diego’s told me quite a bit about you.” Felipe smiled bashfully.
“Won’t you sit down?” Padre Benitez motioned toward the chairs under the awning. Felipe followed them toward those chairs and sat down next to his patrón.
Padre Benitez reached above his head to pluck off a few clusters of grapes. He handed one to Don Diego and another to Felipe. For the next few minutes, the three sat there, munching on grapes and watching people leaving and entering Los Angeles. The grapes' sweetness felt cool on Felipe's tongue as he munched on them, one by one.
At last, the new priest gazed at Felipe, who looked straight at him. “Don Diego, here, tells me you’ve lived with him since you were seven.” Felipe nodded. “He also tells me you were confirmed before his return from Spain.” Felipe nodded again.
Don Diego glanced at the boy and inclined his head. “Yes, he was, Padre. My father can vouch for that. The old padre--Bernardo--had Felipe serve as one of his altar boys all the time he was here.”
Benitez smiled. “Good.” He paused. “I, too, would like to have him serve.” Diego and Felipe acquiesced.
Felipe pulled his rosary out of his sash and showed them to Padre Benitez. Don Diego smiled. "Felipe's mother bequeathed that rosary to him the day she died. He's used them faithfully ever since."
Padre Benitez smiled his approval. "Good boy. I'm glad to hear that." Felipe shrugged, smiling bashfully.
The three sat for a few minutes more. Felipe popped the last grape in his cluster into his mouth, then tossed the now-bare twigs on the ground. For a long moment, he rubbed his fingers over the smooth beads and reminisced about recent events. Silently, he thanked God for bringing Padre Benitez to the mission.
Don Diego said that if anyone could guide the mission with wisdom and compassion, it’s Padre Benitez, he thought. And he’s right! No one’ll ever take Padre Bernardo’s place, but Padre Benitez will be good for us. I can tell!
Memories of the previous priest floated through Felipe's mind--Padre Bernardo holding Felipe on his lap, telling him a Bible story...standing in front of the congregation, reciting the litany in preparation for the Eucharist...the numerous times he had visited the de la Vega hacienda, chatting with the de la Vegas or visiting with Felipe. Then the day Felipe learned of Padre Bernardo's death came to mind. What an awful day that had been, when Don Diego and Don Alejandro had told him that their beloved padre had died in his sleep. Felipe had wept silently for much of the day.
I wondered what the new priest would be like, Felipe remembered. I prayed he'd be a good man, like Padre Bernardo. Gracias de Dios, he is! He looked at Padre Benitez and returned the man's smile.
A moment later, Don Diego looked at his timepiece, then rose to his feet; Felipe and the priest did the same. “It’s time for Felipe and me to leave, Padre,” Diego said. “We have some errands to run in town. I wanted to bring Felipe to meet you, first.” Felipe stuffed the beads back into his sash as his patrón spoke.
“And I’m glad you did.” Padre Benitez smiled at the boy warmly. “You’re a fine boy, Felipe, and it will be a pleasure to know you.” He made the sign of the cross over Felipe’s forehead, then over Diego’s. “I’ll see you in church on Sunday. And for confession on Saturday.”
“Yes, Padre. Adios.” Smiling his good-bye, Diego put his arm around Felipe’s shoulder and led him toward the nearby carriage, where a peasant had been watching the horses. “Well, Felipe, we have a stop to make at the tavern, then we need to pick up some things in the market.” Felipe nodded agreement, then climbed onto the driver’s seat. Diego lifted the reins, and the horses trotted toward the village sign.
THE END
©2002, by Kathy Green