Part 2: "The Guadalupe Day Fiesta"
Felipe wrapped his brown woolen poncho tightly around him as an extra-large raindrop splattered on his nose. His wide-brimmed straw sombrero rested lightly on his head. The servant boy had awakened at dawn with an joyous excitement rising in his heart. He had served twice as altar boy since the de la Vegas had hired him, and he'd enjoyed it both times. Moreover, the Guadalupe Day fiesta would follow the special mass, and fiestas were always fun, especially now that Felipe could take communion with the others. (Padre Bernardo had let him begin doing so the previous month.)
Felipe scowled up at the low gray clouds spanning the sky from horizon to horizon. Cold raindrops splattered his face. I wish the rain would stop! he thought.
Next to him, the driver halted the horses. The carriage stopped in front of the church.
Felipe slid off the driver's seat and opened the carriage door. When Don Alejandro, Don Diego, and Don Rafael descended onto the bare, muddy ground, Felipe closed the door. The driver drove off.
Felipe admired the crowd of caballeros, doñas, and peasants milling around the plaza. Little boys wearing velvet outfits with silk lace collars and lace-edged sleeves, and little girls wearing silk or satin dresses and bonnets, milled around with their parents, as did the more roughly-clad children of farmers, vaqueros, and villagers. Niñeras accompanied the children of the assembled caballeros; Felipe knew it was their job to take care of those children. (Diego had told the little boy tales about his own niñera, who had looked after him till he was a teenager.) His fellow servants had arrived earlier; he knew they were probably seated in the back rows, even though the service wouldn't start for a while yet. Normally, Felipe would sit with them, but today would not be one of those times.
He glanced up at his patróns. All three de la Vegas had dressed in their best. Don Alejandro wore a grayish-blue frockcoat, a dark-blue silk vest, and a snow-white ruffled silk shirt. Don Diego exhibited a bright-blue tailcoat and a blue silk cravat. And Don Rafael had donned a brown frockcoat, a tan velvet vest, and a brown silk cravat. Diego and Rafael wore ruffled, bleached linen shirts, finely-woven. As always, the three gentlemen stood up straight and held their shoulders back. Because it was raining, they had donned capes and top hats.
Don Alejandro's eyes twinkled as he gazed down at Felipe. "Well, amigo, you're going to have fun today." He ruffled the little boy's brown hair as he spoke, tilted the boy's sombrero to further shield his face from the rain, then bent over to straighten Felipe's rumpled poncho. "There! Now you look fine." He patted Felipe's shoulder, then marched toward the church with Rafael in tow. Hanging back, Don Diego greeted another caballero.
For a long moment, Felipe admired the puppet booth, the bouquets of flowers decorating the walls of the buildings, the paper lanterns strung from building to building, and the red, green, and orange streamers hanging from roofs and awnings. A cool breeze caressed his face.
As the servant boy scanned the plaza, taking in the sights, his stomach started to itch. Felipe lifted his poncho to scratch it. This is going to be fun! he thought.
A vicious shove sent him face-down in the mud. For a moment, the stunned little boy just lay there. When he rolled over, he saw another boy standing above him, laughing. Pug-nosed, the boy wore a dark-blue cotton shirt and a pair of white trousers.
Outraged, Felipe scrambled to his feet, his sombrero now dangling down his back. He clenched his fists and glared at the other boy. How could that boy be so mean?!
"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" The boy pointed at Felipe's clothes. "Now you are muddy! Padre Bernardo will never let a muddy boy serve at his altar!" He glared fiercely at Felipe. "Now maybe he'll let me be altar boy! I was supposed to be, not you!" Without awaiting a response, the boy darted around the back of the church.
Felipe stared down at his clothes in shock. Blotches of mud stained his poncho and trousers. He lifted his poncho to gape at his muddied shirt.
What am I gonna do? he wondered. Now I can't be altar boy! He touched his cheek; soft mud encrusted it.
A hand rested on his shoulder; he whirled around to see Don Diego and Padre Bernardo. The priest's rosary dangled down the front of his brown woolen habit; a grim expression etched his normally-cheery face. "I saw what happened, my son," the priest said, "and I heard what Paquito said. Don't worry, Felipe. You will serve at my altar; I will not allow Paquito to decide otherwise." He laid a hand on the little boy's shoulder. "Come with me, and I'll get you cleaned up."
"I'll be in the sanctuary," Don Diego told the padre. With an encouraging smile at Felipe, he pivoted to follow his father and cousin into the church, removing his coal-black top hat as he approached the entrance.
Felipe followed Padre Bernardo around the whitewashed building and entered from the back. In the hall, the priest stopped a servant and gave him orders Felipe couldn't hear. The padre then led the little boy into a guest bedroom.
Within minutes, two servants carried a sloshing wooden bathtub into the room. "Felipe, you'll have to hurry." Padre Bernardo untied the boy's sash for him as he spoke. "You only have a few minutes to bathe, so don't dawdle in the tub. You still need to rehearse your duties before the mass begins, and there won't be much time, now, to do that. I'll get you some clean clothes and have the mission laundress wash your soiled ones; they will be clean and dry before the fiesta is over."
Smiling his thanks, Felipe removed his clothes and lowered himself into the frigid bathwater. The padre wrapped the dirty clothes in a piece of cloth and left the room.
Felipe would have liked to play in the water, but he did yearn to serve at the altar, so he had to do as he was told. Obediently, he scrubbed every speck of mud off his body. As he climbed out of the bathtub and dried himself with the towel the priest had left for his use, Padre Bernardo returned with Paquito in tow. The boy carried a clean set of clothes in his arms.
Hastily, Felipe wrapped the towel around his loins. Despite his efforts not to, he shivered. The floor's stone tiles felt ice-cold to his bare feet.
"Paquito, since you so unkindly muddied Felipe's clothes, you will provide him with your clean ones until his own are dry." Pursing his lips, Paquito tossed his white shirt and trousers on the bed. He did not look at Felipe.
Padre Benardo grasped the boy's arm and wagged his finger. "Paquito, you know I don't like to punish any boy, but sometimes I have to, you know. I have had to discipline you repeatedly since you and your sister came to live here. If you don't like it, then you must learn to behave yourself and treat the other children with kindness." He paused; Paquito stared at the light-beige wall behind him. "If you wish to be my altar boy, you must first be a good boy. Not a boy who bullies and torments others. Felipe is taking your place because you pinched and tormented Rosita the other day." Paquito glared at the floor.
Fingering his beads, the padre turned to Felipe. "My son, I know you don't need me to tell you this, but that goes for you, too. I expect all my altar boys to behave themselves, do as they're told, and be kind to others." Felipe nodded his acquiescence. "All right. Just hold on, and I'll get you some suitable vestments." He led Paquito out.
When Padre Bernardo returned, carrying Felipe's vestments, Felipe noticed that the priest had changed into the shimmering white vestments he himself would wear while conducting Mass. Minutes later, fully dressed in his altar-boy outfit, Felipe followed the padre into the now-empty sanctuary. Until the service began, he rehearsed his altar-boy tasks. To his relief and the padre's, he remembered them perfectly.
Just before the congregation filed in, Felipe lit the candles under Padre Bernardo's supervision. He laid the snow-white altar cloth on the altar and the Bible on the ambo, where the padre would preach. Silently, he made the sign of the cross and prayed that he would not drop the special bread or wine. The golden statue of Mary that hung suspended above the altar smiled down on the nervous altar boy.
To his relief, the Guadalupe Day mass went well. Dressed in his glistening snow-white vestments, Felipe stood in front of the priest and held the heavy prayer book before him; arms outstretched, Padre Bernardo recited the prayers out loud. Felipe gripped the book's hard leather bindings against his chest, silently praying that it wouldn't slip out of his hands. Even though he could neither hear the sermon nor read the padre's lips from where he stood, he knew that Padre Bernardo was talking about the Virgin of Guadalupe's appearance to Juan Diego, and telling the congregation to renew their efforts to be true workers for Christ. His own Padre Pablo had preached the same message every year, on that day.
I wish Padre Pablo was here, he thought. I wish he could see me now! A pang stung his heart; he took a deep breath. To his relief, the threatened sobs subsided.
When it was time to take the Eucharist, Felipe held the plate containing the special bread under the priest's chin while the padre ate his share. Padre Bernardo then held the goblet of wine to his lips and took a swallow. Afterward, the little boy held up the plate for the members of the congregation as they filed up, one by one, to take their shares of the bread and wine.
Don Diego smiled down at Felipe proudly and encouragingly when it was his turn, as did Don Rafael. Don Alejandro patted his shoulder and whispered, "You're doing a good job, Felipe."
When every member of the congregation had partaken of the Lord's Supper, Felipe ate and drank his share. A few minutes later, the worshippers lined up for the procession. One by one, they took lit candles and roses.
As Felipe trotted next to the priest, carrying his own candle, Padre Bernardo led the crowd of people out the church's front door and around the edge of the plaza. To the little boy's delight, the rain had stopped and the sun had come out. The rainclouds formed a gray wall south of them; overhead, wisps of clouds hung here and there in the blue sky.
"'Good morning, white dove.'" The words of the familiar song rang in Felipe's head, as he gripped the dripping white candle in front of his chest. Silently, he mouthed the words echoing in his mind's ear. He had sung it every year, during other Guadalupe Day fiestas.
Good morning, white dove.
Today, I come to greet thee,
Greeting thy beauty in your celestial reign,
In your celestial reign.
The procession came to a standstill in front of a shrine next to the church wall. It had been built by volunteers the day before. One by one, each participant inserted his candle into a sconce and laid his rose next to it. Soon, little flickering flames atop snow-white candles dotted the shrine, now covered with roses. The roses, Felipe knew, stood for the ones Juan Diego had picked on the Hill of Tepeyec, to prove to the bishop that the vision really had occurred.
Felipe smiled. This is fun! he thought. He tilted his face upward to get the full force of the cool breeze caressing his soft cheeks. How good it felt!
When the procession had ended, Felipe silently followed Padre Bernardo back to the guest bedroom to remove the vestments. "Well, Felipe, you did a fine job." With an approving smile, the elderly priest patted the boy's shoulder. "I'm proud of you." Felipe's heart leaped at the words of praise.
While Felipe donned Paquito's outfit, the padre folded the altar-boy vestments and clasped them against his chest. "When the Angelus bell rings this evening, come back to this room to get your clothes." The priest patted his shoulder again. "They will be dry by then."
Smiling his thanks, Felipe raced out the back entrance and around the church, swinging his sombrero by the string. For a moment, he stood silently and watched the gaily-colored streamers dancing merrily in the breeze.
Vendors awaited buyers in their stalls. Some people were playing cards, and some were gathered in a cluster, watching a cockfight. Most of the celebrators just milled around and talked.
The smell of roast beef and chicken, of tamales, enchiladas, and tacos wafted toward his nose. His mouth grew moist with saliva. I'm hungry! he thought. Where's Don Diego? There he is!
The de la Vegas stood on the tavern porch, chatting with Señorita Escalante. They had shed their capes, the little boy noticed.
Felipe raced toward them. Don Diego lifted him in the air and hugged him tightly. "Well done, Felipe! You did an excellent job of serving at the altar." He smiled. "I'm so proud of you."
"You certainly did, my boy." Don Alejandro patted Felipe's shoulder. Don Rafael agreed.
Grinning, Felipe opened and closed his mouth, pantomiming the act of inserting food between his lips. "All right, Felipe." With a chuckle, Don Diego set him down on the porch and plopped Felipe's sombrero on his head. "We'll get ourselves something to eat. I'm hungry, too." He turned to the others. "You coming, Father? Rafael?"
Don Alejandro shook his head. "Not yet, Diego. Soon."
"I will, shortly." Don Rafael glanced at Victoria.
Diego led Felipe toward the nearest vendor stall. The savory, spicy smell of beef tamales made Felipe's mouth water. Diego ordered two tamales, one for Felipe and another for himself. When they returned to the tavern, Victoria served them glasses of lemonade.
The next several hours just flew by. The little boy and the other children watched as a puppeteer enacted the story of Juan Diego and the Virgin of Guadalupe with puppets. Afterward, Felipe stayed close to the de la Vegas while the other children played in the fenced-in yard next to the church.
Once, the alcalde stood on the platform and made a speech about Guadalupe Day. A fidgety Felipe perched on Diego's shoulder to read the alcalde's lips. Silently, he prayed that the alcalde would soon stop talking. He wanted to play!
After the alcalde's speech, the de la Vegas and Victoria took turns playing with Felipe and telling him Christmas stories. All the while, the little boy ate a myriad of candies and other snacks sold by vendors. Later, he knew, there would be dancing, a brilliant fireworks display, a play, and a candlelight vigil next to the shrine.
At last, Felipe noticed the people around him pausing to look upward. Following their gaze, Felipe saw the church bell swinging from side to side. The now-golden sun, he noticed, hung just above the horizon.
It's the Angelus, the little boy thought. It was the Angelus when we came here, and now it is again. That means my clothes are dry!
Felipe raced into the church and down the aisle toward the altar. He rushed into the hall, where he encountered the servant whom the priest had spoken to that morning. "Your clothes are clean and dry now, Felipe." The servant pointed down the hall. "They're in the same room where you bathed this morning. The de la Vegas left their capes in the sanctuary; I'll go get them while you change clothes. The night chill will be here soon."
Felipe shyly smiled his thanks, then hurried around the corner and toward the guest bedroom. Up and down the corridor, some of the dull-red pine doors stood wide open.
As Felipe approached his own door, it slowly swung outward. Felipe halted to see who was inside. A dark-brown thatch of hair slid out, followed by a pug nose and a yellow woolen poncho draping a skinny frame. It was Paquito!
In a flash, Felipe slid behind another door to hide. That boy is mean! he thought. I don't want to see him! Hot rage surged in his heart. In the fun of celebrating Guadalupe Day, he had completely forgotten about Paquito.
After a long moment, Felipe peeked around the door. Paquito had disappeared. Relieved, Felipe trotted toward the bedroom door and skipped inside.
To his delight, he found his now-tidy clothes folded neatly on the bed. He pulled off the shirt and trousers Padre Bernardo had made Paquito loan him. He couldn't wait to return to the fiesta.
As he lifted up his homespun cotton trousers by the waist, a chunk of soft bread fell out and landed on the bed. Felipe froze, and his mouth dropped open. For a long moment, he stared down at it in horror. It was the Host! Gulping silently, Felipe made the sign of the cross.
Paquito did it! the little boy thought. I know he did! And now he's going to tell Padre Bernardo and Don Diego and Don Alejandro that I stole the special bread. He shuddered at the prospect. But I didn't! I'd never steal! Never!
Felipe knew he was in real trouble. Stealing the Eucharist bread was a serious offense. If the priest and the de la Vegas thought Felipe had committed such a theft, his punishment would be swift and severe. He had to act quickly!
I'll take it to Padre Bernardo's room, he decided. Maybe if he just left it there, nothing would happen.
Grasping the bread in his right hand, Felipe approached the door. As he tiptoed through the threshold into the hallway, he saw Paquito disappear around the corner. Felipe followed him down the hall, careful to keep a distance between himself and the other boy.
Paquito opened the door of Padre Bernardo's study and slipped inside. Felipe hurried toward that door and peered at the other boy. With his back to Felipe, Paquito opened a desk drawer and removed a chunk of Eucharist bread.
Fresh rage swept through Felipe, making him tremble. The special bread! he thought. How dare he?!
He rushed into the study and pounced on Paquito. The enraged boy twisted loose and shoved Felipe against the green adobe wall. As Felipe wiped his face, Padre Bernardo appeared in the doorway, carrying three folded capes and once more wearing his woolen habit. He froze at the sight of the two boys.
"What's going on here?" Striding toward the desk, the elderly priest shifted his stern gaze from Paquito to Felipe.
"Felipe was trying to steal the Host, Padre." Paquito laid the special bread on the desk. "I saw him."
Felipe whirled toward the priest and shook his head vigorously. With trembling hands, the little boy handed Padre Bernardo the Host he had found in his trousers. He pointed at the bread, then at Paquito.
"No, no! It was Felipe! I saw him!" Paquito glared at the other boy. "He came here and stole some and put it in his clothes. Then he came back to steal more! See, he had it in his hand!"
"All right, enough!" Padre Bernardo held up his hand. "This is a serious accusation, Paquito, and I must hear him out. Felipe, tell me what happened." He laid the capes on the bed as he spoke.
Paquito thrust his lower lip out, but did not speak. With shaking hands, Felipe described the sequence of events, from seeing Paquito leaving his guest room, to discovering Paquito stealing the special bread and his own effort to stop him.
At that moment, the servant whom Felipe had encountered earlier stepped into the room. "It's true, Padre." The servant frowned at Paquito. "I saw Paquito enter the guest room before Felipe arrived; he had something hidden under his poncho. When he came out, whatever he was hiding was gone. I thought nothing of it till I came down this hall and heard you and the boys talking."
Paquito's face had grown pale as the servant spoke. Biting his lower lip, he hung his head. With a sigh, Padre Bernardo patted Felipe's shoulder reassuringly, then looked at Paquito sternly.
"Paquito, tell the truth. Did you steal the Host?" The boy nodded, still gazing at the stone tiles at his feet. "And did you try to set up Felipe, to make it look as if he had done it?"
Another nod. Padre Bernardo shook his head, a mixture of sadness and anger etching his face. He fingered his beads as he stood in thought.
"Then I must punish you again." The priest cupped his fingertips under the sullen boy's chin and raised his head till his eyes met Padre Bernardo's. "You have committed two serious offences, Paquito. Not only did you steal the Host--a grave wrong in itself--you tried to pin your wrong on an innocent boy. I'm going to be hard-pressed to decide on a suitable punishment for you."
"All right, throw me out!" Paquito glared at Felipe, then at the priest. "I suppose that's what you're gonna do." He crossed his arms.
Padre Bernardo shook his head. "No, I'm not going to throw you out, but I am going to spend some time deciding what kind of discipline is in order here." He pursed his lips. "In the meantime, you're going to stay in your room till morning, without supper. You may not participate in the evening festivities. And--" The priest paused to glance at Felipe. "I think an apology to Felipe, here, is in order." He wagged his finger as he spoke.
A mean gladness rushed through Felipe's heart. This served Paquito right!
Paquito slowly approached Felipe. "I'm sorry I tried to get you in trouble." Felipe nodded, then glanced at the priest. Padre Bernardo nodded his approval.
"I'll decide, tomorrow, if I will let you go to the posadas or not." Padre Bernardo opened the drawer and set the two chunks of bread inside. "By all rights, I should make you stay here and work instead of participating in the fun. However, there's your sister to consider; I know she would be unhappy if you stayed behind. I will have to pray hard, to decide what to do."
Hanging his head, Paquito trudged out the door. The kind priest patted Felipe's cheek. "Amigo, I need you to pray that Paquito will learn his lesson. Will you do that?" Felipe nodded.
"Good boy. We both will. Paquito has a lot of bitterness in his heart."
Another servant entered with a brand to light the candles. The priest glanced out the shuttered window; the sky had turned dark. "Well, Felipe, suppose you and I go back outside? There's still a fiesta to enjoy, you know!" His eyes twinkled as he handed the capes to Felipe. "Remember, too, this is just the beginning. The posadas start a few days from now."
Grinning, Felipe trotted at Padre Bernardo's side as the two of them returned to the plaza. Don Diego swung the little boy up in his arms as Felipe clutched the capes in the crook of his left arm. The handsome young caballero carried him on his thigh toward the tavern, where Diego's father and cousin sat at a table. Victoria waited with a lemonade pitcher. Once there, Felipe handed his patróns their capes.
The evening festivities went smoothly. First, as the padre lit some replacement candles in the shrine, the people assembled and prayed. Following that moment, they returned to the plaza to dance.
Don Diego waltzed with Victoria. Don Rafael danced with some señoritas, and Don Alejandro cavorted with several widows. Meanwhile, Felipe danced by himself. His late mother and his kindly godfather had taught him a number of lively folk dances in San Miguel, and to his delight, he remembered them all. All the while, the paper lanterns, now lit, swung in the cool breeze, emitting red and green glows.
Finally, the people entered the tavern. It was time for the play to begin. Felipe sat in the front row of chairs with the de la Vegas so he'd be able to read the actors' lips.
As the puppet show had been, the play was about the appearance of the Virgin of Guadalupe to Juan Diego. While Felipe watched, entranced, a woman wearing a blue robe appeared in front of the peasant man and ordered him to tell the bishop to build her a church.
Felipe knew the story well; his mother, former priest, and godparents had told it to him countless times. On the Virgin's orders, Juan Diego had gone to the bishop to relay her message, and the bishop had said he wanted proof of the visitation. So Juan Diego had relayed the bishop's response to the Virgin, and she had instructed him to pick roses off the Hill of Tepeyec and take them to the bishop.
In the play, that same scenario was re-enacted. "Juan Diego" carried the roses in his tilma to the "bishop." As they tumbled onto the floor, the "bishop" gasped and crossed himself. A painting of the Virgin, dressed in the familiar blue robe, had miraculously appeared on "Juan Diego's" tilma!
When the play drew to a close, a sleepy Felipe yawned as he followed Don Diego out the door. The next and final event would be the brilliant fireworks display. From the moment it started till it ended, Felipe had to fight to stay awake, because he didn't want to miss it.
It's so pretty! he thought, yawning. I love it! He rubbed his eyes in an effort to force them to stay open.
When the last firework had exploded and dissipated against the background of the twinkling stars, Don Alejandro patted his son's shoulder. "Well, it's time to go home, Diego. You and Rafael wait here with Felipe; I'll tell the driver to bring the carriage around." His eyes twinkled at the little boy. "Felipe will ride in the back with us tonight. He's too sleepy to act as footman, I'm afraid."
When Don Diego reclined on a bench, a yawning Felipe climbed onto his lap. He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer; the drowsy boy rested his cheek against Diego's shoulder and closed his eyes. Don Diego wrapped the folds of his cape around the little boy and clasped him against Diego's chest.
This was fun, Felipe thought, as sleep crept over him. And soon, we're gonna have the posada.
END OF PART 2