The Tower of Il Serrohe (24 page)

BOOK: The Tower of Il Serrohe
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Teresa’s mother was unsure, and her father said. ‘Are you
loco
? It is still wintertime though spring will soon be here. It’s too cold at night for my daughter to be living in a tent.’

“‘
Papa,’ Teresa’s mother replied quietly. ‘Pedro could go with her. They can take the wagon to carry a tent. We have plenty of wool blankets, and they can take food for two weeks. Pedro will keep a fire going all the time they are there.’ She averted his penetrating gaze and stared at her hands as she fiddled nervously with the edges of her shawl.

“‘
Papi, Mama is right. I would be safe with Pedro.’ Though she didn’t want her younger brother along to complicate things, there seemed no other way.


She stiffened her back to carry on this grand lie. ‘I must do this. I cannot explain because I don’t fully understand myself. Please?’ Teresa pleaded.


The priest looked stoic, but he couldn’t keep himself from peering imploringly at Teresa’s father.

“‘
After all,’ the priest shrugged, ‘don’t I preach about the mysterious ways of the Lord? We know Teresa is blessed, why should we doubt her now? Although what she has told us makes little sense, it may bring a blessing of which we have no understanding.’


Her father sighed, the steel in his eyes melting into resignation. ‘I have a hard time understanding my daughter, Father. Perhaps my wife is right.’ He looked at Teresa with grim determination. ‘Teresa, if you must do this, then you go with your Mama’s and my blessing. But you must come back and settle down to marry Juan Chavez. There are few families in Peralta who have a daughter of your age still unmarried—’


Teresa wanted to argue. Instead, she took a deep breath, and said a quick prayer to herself.

“‘
Yes, Papi, you are right. I must settle down. But first…’


The priest took that as his cue and rose to leave while Teresa and her parents stood quickly out of respect. The priest caught the confused look in the parents’ eyes. ‘It will be all right. If nothing comes of it in two weeks, she must stop this foolishness and come back home. Her skills as a curandera cannot be neglected for long. The other curanderas are old and need her fresh blood to assist in healing the people of Peralta.’


Her father turned to Teresa knowing full well he was going to regret this. ‘Yes, yes. Make your pilgrimage. And then come back and do the right thing.’


And so it was settled.”

 

 

forty five

 

 


In the hustle-bustle of preparations, Pia and Pita came to Teresa in her dreams and instructed her to concoct a special tea for Pedro. He would drink it every night so he would not awaken to find her gone as she traveled to Valle Abajo.


Teresa gathered the required odd weeds, mulberry leaves, and pollens from plants she would have never considered in her practice as a curandera. Some were thought to be poisonous, but Teresa knew she had to trust her sisters. She ground the demented collection in her small, smooth stone
metate y mano
until it was finer than smoke.


This she mixed with water and allowed to dry in little grains that she bagged in a silk handkerchief. Finally, the sisters taught her an exotic chant that sounded more like animal sounds than human language.

“‘
What is the meaning of these sounds?’ Teresa asked, more disturbed than confused.


In her dream, both sisters were mute. Finally, Pita said, ‘It is from the ancient Pirallt tongue. We don’t fully understand, but it infuses the herbs with the ‘Sleep of the Dead’—

“‘
I’m not going to kill my brother,’ she replied. ‘I don’t care what tragedy has occurred in the Valle Abajo!’

“‘
No, no,’ Pita soothed, ‘it will only to put him into a deep sleep,
like
the sleep of the dead. He will be fine and awaken each morning refreshed. We have used it to help one heal after a severe illness or injury. Sleep is the great healer. In this case it will allow you to travel through the Portal and return the next morning without discovery.’


Teresa was still unsure, but she repeated the indecipherable chant the next day. She had serious doubts about the whole matter. If it didn’t work and Pedro caught her coming back through the Portal or found himself alone, the pretense would collapse and she would return to Peralta, marriage, and perhaps a more normal life for the rest of her days.


So she and Pedro traveled to the Portal. In real life it was strikingly similar to Pia and Pita’s description of it including the young cottonwood tree which, of course, was an ancient, dead tree in Valle Abajo. Privately, she found the zones of utter darkness and silence which confirmed this was
the right place.


Pedro set up two canvas tents with a sleeping cot in each. After settling in for the night, Teresa pretended to make preparations for a night-long meditation. She cooked Pedro a simple meal of beans, chile, and tortillas on their father’s camp stove that had served many a meal on his hunting trips with his own father, brothers, and, later, his own sons.


She then placed two pinches of the “Sleep of the Dead” tea in a square of cheesecloth to brew in boiling water. ‘Here, Pedro, some Manzanilla tea to help you rest. I don’t need you bothering me in the night. I will be here in my own tent nearby and can call you if there is any trouble.’


Pedro laughed. ‘Manzanilla? Sure, my sister, you will sleep more than I do tonight. I can always hear you snoring in the night at home before I get to sleep myself.’

“‘
Very funny, Señor Deadhead,’ she replied. ‘Tell me another of your little stories!’ However, she laughed too. Of all her brothers, she felt closest to him. They could pass many hours laughing and teasing each other even now, as young adults.


He dutifully drank the tea. ‘Mmm, this is actually
muy buena
,
mi pequeña hermana
.’ She frowned a bit because he was younger than her, but she knew he was just trying to be sweet while putting on male superiority.


He quickly emptied the brimming tin mug, stood up, burped to show his pleasure in the chile and beans, and crawled into his tent. The western sky was in the afterglow of a dying sunset.


Teresa went to her tent and waited patiently for her brother’s deep breathing. Before she knew it, he was serenading the night with melodious snores.

“‘
Truly the “Sleep of the Dead,”’ she said to herself in amazement.


She then prepared to pass through the Portal using a jug of Peralta well water and glass in a wooden frame built according to Pia and Pita’s instructions by the incredulous Pedro the day before they left on their trek. She had told it was according to directions given her by the Madonna in a dream that would help her focus her prayers and the recitation of the rosary.


She giggled remembering his response
.
“‘
Oh si
,
mi pequeña hermana
,’ he had said, obviously convinced his older sister was touched in the head.”

Don stirred as he grew more sober. “OK. So that explains that. But I have another question. I remember that she spent a night in the Soreye village when they captured her and threw her in a slave cage. How did she get away with that when Pedro found she wasn’t in her tent the next morning?”

The bat sighed. “This was, perhaps, her most difficult challenge.


That night, after her failed attempt to use a Pirallt chant to burn the rawhide straps that secured the slave cage was a dark hour for Teresa. She paced her tiny cage, trying to not think about how Pedro would rouse himself and frantically search their camp for his crazy sister.


What would he do? Would he search far and wide, then give up and wait for her to reappear? Or would he desperately rush back to Peralta to tell his father and mother she had disappeared? Surely his fear of his father’s wrath at his stupidity to fail to protect his sister would postpone such an action.


She realized she had to reach out to Pedro through her mind since physically returning at this point was impossible. While sleeping at home, she had traveled to the Valle Abajo in her dreams without effort, always starting from the approximate point of the Portal. Could she reverse that trek and return to the
Rio Grande
Valley in her dream starting at the Portal where their camp lay?


And then what? Even if that worked, she would be an immaterial presence. It was still early evening in the Valle Abajo; maybe Pedro was still asleep in the early morning of his valley. Perhaps he was dreaming. Could Teresa travel in a near dream state to enter the dream of her brother?


It was crazy, but there was nothing else to try. She entered a deep meditative state similar to when she implored a saint to heal someone she was tending. She visualized the Valle Abajo landscape east of the Soreye village and swept down the cliffs heading for the lonely dead cottonwood, passing through the zone of darkness, then through the Portal.


She held her breath trying not to think or visualize. She allowed her mind to freely accept whatever came to it in hopes she would see their camp in the Rio Grande Valley without summoning a vision. For a while, she drifted in a nebulous landscape of utter darkness broken by leaden streaks that swirled about her like oil snaking upon the surface of a red chile sauce cooking on her mother’s stove.


Soon, the somber streaks solidified into familiar shapes of the young cottonwood, her tent, the wagon and the two horses standing with knees locked, snoozing, and…Yes! There was Pedro’s tent in dim moonlight. She had expected dawn to be breaking, but there was no hint of it in the east over the Manzano Mountains.


She became giddy from a lack of breathing and the ease with which the reality of the scene appeared before her. It was not a vision of her mind; it was truly
in front
of her.


Drifting to Pedro’s tent, she melted through its rough canvas wall. Inside, all was vague and uncertain which frightened her.
Will I lose hold on this vision at this very critical moment?
She thought. But everything remained in place before her.


She looked on her brother’s shape and willed herself into his head, which was totally unlike the ease with which she would commune with her sisters.


Nothing.


Persisting, she hoped her efforts would not disengage the tenuous grasp she had on being there in her brother’s tent. She heard Pedro moan and then he spoke rapidly. She strained to understand the babbling, but could only catch one word: ‘Angelina.’

“‘
Yes! Angelina Sanchez, Pedro’s girlfriend and his “intended” if his fervent hopes and dreams were approved by both of their fathers.’


Teresa used this to gain entrance into her brother’s dream. Visualizing Angelina and tapping into Pedro’s strong desire for her allowed Teresa to enter in a storm of shadowy images, some resembling their home in Peralta, others seeming to be the fields between Angelina’s home to the south of Teresa’s home… and rather disturbing images of Angelina dressed in a low cut blouse, more low cut than any Teresa had ever seen.


Realizing she was seeing what Pedro saw through his ‘dreaming eyes,’ she saw Pedro’s hand reach out as if it were her own, daring to touch and stroke Angelina’s velvety soft upper breasts while trying to pull down the blouse to reveal them.


Teresa’s early Twenty Century Catholic-girl sensibilities could not be repressed as she struggled to withdraw Pedro’s hand from Angelina’s glorious breasts. Suddenly Pedro’s dream world suffered a violent earthquake, and a garbled vocal protest threatened to wake him.


Teresa realized all was lost if he awoke. She reached toward Angelina, trying to grab on to her as she tumbled about in Pedro’s mental earthquake. Getting hold of her image, she did the equivalent of a violent head-butt in an effort to clothe herself in Angelina’s body. She turned to Pedro behind her.


She could not see his face, but sensed his shock and heard him groan, ‘Teresa! What are you doing? I want to be with Angelina, I don’t want you here. Leave me alone! Did Papa send you? Or Mama? Do they not want me to touch Angelina’s body? I long for her—’

“‘
Pedro! You are not yet her husband. You cannot go about touching her… But that’s not why I’m here. I’m not your mother, so…’ She didn’t want to upset Pedro so much he would wake or start dreaming about something else, leaving behind Teresa’s presence in this dream.

“‘
I don’t want to interfere with you and Angelina. It is not my concern, although as your older sister, I should tell…’
No, this will not do. Shut up about that and tell him what you need!

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