Standing in front of the conference room doors had given me trauma. I was only ever there for work—or for a confrontation. Today, it would be the latter, and I suspected there would be more than one.
The doors creaked open, revealing Señora Alcantara seated at the rearmost chair of the long table, staring out the window, biting her nails.
I might have misinterpreted what Dimalanta meant by upset. She looked more worried than angry.
Señora Alcantara took a few moments to notice me. She had been out of sorts lately—and understandably so. When she finally did see me, she sprang up from her seat like a coiled spring.
"Heneral!" she exclaimed.
"Please, be seated, Señora." It was immediately clear there would be no fiery confrontation today. That said, I was now worried for her. "Were you escorted on your way here?"
She returned to her seat as I took the one opposite her. "Yes... by two soldiers. I left Sargento Tolentino to watch over my daughter... and the house."
"How can I help you? Did something happen?" I asked, noting how panicked she looked. Her hands were trembling, constantly rubbing against each other, and her eyes darted about, never settling on anything for long.
"I’m here for the lad... What happened to him?" she asked.
Of course, she was.
"He is in our custody. The people of Tabigue caught him trying to flee toward the Boac River, where a boat had been arranged for his escape."
"I was told he was beaten."
"He was. Terribly. I suspect they used not just fists but clubs as well. He will survive, but he’s bedridden for now," I said. Though it was bitter on the tongue, I added, "Which he deserved—if he truly sexually assaulted your daughter."
To my surprise, her face fell even further.
"Oh God... what have we done?" she murmured, bowing her head and covering her face. Then she pulled at her hair. "The poor lad."
I leaned forward, resting my hands on the table. Something was wrong.
"Don’t be afraid to tell me anything, Señora," I said gently, suspecting she knew something I didn’t. "I’m here to help. I’m obligated to—I owe a debt to your husband."
The tears began to fall. I reached across and held her trembling hands. For the first time, she looked me in the eye.
"Severino... he started courting my daughter the day we settled into the house," she began. "My daughter entertained him... and just days later, I learned they were seeing each other."
"Before long, the boy was regularly calling on our house. I permitted it. He seemed polite, and I had heard he was the grandson of a wealthy hacendero in town," she continued.
"But just a couple of days ago, right before she approached Colonel Abad with the accusation..." her voice trembled, "I overheard them arguing outside. The boy was breaking up with my daughter."
I stared at the chalkboard behind her, seeing characters and symbols without registering them, as I processed what she was trying to say.
"You mean to say... your daughter might have made the accusation because she was upset about the breakup?" I said slowly.
"That’s a heavy charge to lay on your daughter, Señora," I added in a low voice. "Are you sure... that she wasn’t assaulted before that argument?"
"I don’t know," she sobbed. "But from the time they started seeing each other until that night... she looked very happy."
I was silent for a while.
"I will need to speak with your daughter, Señora," I finally said, my voice now firmer. "Someone nearly died."
---
As expected, she would not let us into the room. She screamed at us—at her mother—relentlessly. At one point, her curses nearly rivaled General Luna’s sharp tongue.
Eventually, her mother gave us permission to break down the door.
The first few minutes inside were pure chaos. She screamed at the top of her lungs and hurled everything she could grab. A sewing kit struck me in the head.
"What’s this? You don’t believe me? Do I have to get naked and have my private parts examined?" she spat her words like bullets from a Gatling gun.
It seemed I had no other choice.
"Tomorrow..." I said, dodging another projectile and raising my voice above her hysteria, "Tomorrow, Severino will be hanged!"
Like a spell, the feral young woman froze. My ears rang in the sudden silence.
"What... what do you mean?" she asked hoarsely.
"In accordance with martial law—which this province is under—rape is classified as a grave offense and is treated as a capital crime," I told her. "The punishment is death."
I was telling the truth. I had mentioned this both in the meeting with the principales and during my speech at the plaza. It was listed alongside treason and murder. Likely, this was why Don Contreras was doing everything in his power to help his grandson evade capture.
What I lied about was the date. Severino would not be hanged tomorrow. I would never hand down such a sentence lightly. It would require a military tribunal—one I would personally preside over—and I would need definite proof.
"No... just exile him or something," she blurted.
"If he had indeed sullied your honor, young lady... death is not a punishment in excess," I told her.
She shook her head, and then broke down again. She let out a bitter chuckle.
"And sullied my honor... indeed he had."
"It wasn’t... it wasn’t rape. We made love—because he promised he would marry me," she said. "But after he got what he wanted... after he stained my honor, he threw me aside like crumpled paper."
"Tell me—how is that any different from rape?"
I closed my eyes and wiped my face.
Estupro—taking a woman’s virginity through deceit, such as a false promise of marriage—was a significantly lesser crime than rape. But it was still a terrible offense, especially when committed against a principalia woman in a society that directly ties her honor, value, and marriageability to her virginity.
What I had signed up for was a war with the Americans—not this level of drama.
The woman: both accuser and victim.The man: both predator and prey.