Chapter 1412 - Manila

The most terrible hour in Manila was around noon. In the morning, a fresh breeze tapped at the window shutters, slipped into the room, and refreshed the spirits. But the pleasant interlude never lasted long. The morning wind had barely dispelled drowsiness and roused the spirit when scorching heat quickly followed from outside. Even leaning at a window overlooking the sea, one could not gaze into the distance, for the glittering waves blazed like a roaring coal fire. The whitewashed walls of the Spanish houses gave off a dazzling glare, while the sky itself seemed a sea of flames, making it impossible to open one's eyes.

Before noon even arrived, venturing outside had already become a purgatory, while staying indoors left one listless and drained. The demon of sleep would return, driving people into the stifling prison of mosquito nets and pillows. Not until dusk could anyone awaken from their stupor and feel human again. The Spanish had conquered the Philippines, but were themselves conquered by the weather, and had no choice but to reschedule their beloved bullfights for the evening hours.

"Who is that man?" asked Señora Delgado, wife of a ship owner. Contrary to her surname (Note 1), she was plump, with a round face. At five in the afternoon, the bullring remained sweltering; though the sun had begun its decline, its light was still fierce. The cotton awnings hung limp without a breath of wind. She gently waved her silk fan, which covered most of her face—a languid yet affectionate pose that greatly pleased the lover sitting beside her.

"Who? Sitting under the canopy? Devil take it, that's the mayor."

"No, the tall man next to the mayor. Look, he's speaking with him, holding his hat in his hand. Heavens, if only we could sit in that seat! It's really too hot here."

"Ha-ha-ha, if you sat next to him, you'd be even hotter. He's the latest celebrity—it's as if Apollo has descended upon Manila in his sun chariot. The moment he arrived, everyone started revolving around him. Haven't you heard people talking about him?"

"Who is he?"

"Then you really are out of touch. Right now he's the talk of all Manila: the man who brought Doña Marina de Arellano, the illegitimate daughter of the Marquis Gonzalo de Arellano, to Manila—that's him!"

"So it's him! What a remarkable gentleman! I never imagined he'd be so handsome. But I can't remember his name."

"Heh, who he really is, no one can say for certain. The fellow claims to be from Italy, but standing before you, he's as tall as a Patagonian savage. He might be a nobleman from Parma, a marquis from Sicily, a prince from Naples; perhaps a prince from Montenegro who wandered to Asia and was embraced by a great horde of savages. That mob would crown him King of Japan, Emperor of China."

"You're talking nonsense, Paulino," said Señora Delgado, raising her fan and tapping it lightly on her young lover's shoulder. "You're always talking nonsense."

"Nonsense? In the name of the Holy Virgin Mary—" The young man called Paulino drew out a perfumed handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow, deliberately displaying the initials of her name embroidered on it to earn her charming smile. "This man is called Vince Lando, or perhaps Vince, Vice, or Vincenzo—but his surname is definitely Lando. They say he paid thirty thousand pesos to those lawless Australian savages to ransom Doña Marina. My uncle, Don Basilio the port customs officer, was the first to see this fellow come down from the Trinidad: as haughty as a king. In Macao, he had already booked the two best cabins on the ship. On board, the ham and wine he and Miss Arellano ate were the finest goods he had brought with him. This rich man always invited the captain and officers to dine in his cabin, and even found a few violinists among the passengers to play music during meals, tipping each of them a piastre every time."

"Thirty thousand pesos! Goodness, then he must be a great fortune. But I've heard Miss Arellano's fiancé is also a great rich man. Surely he'll be reimbursed?"

"Perhaps. But he may not care much about that money. For him, it's just a drop in the bucket. Have you seen the pair of golden crosses newly erected on the altar of the cathedral? They were contributed by this Lando. The first thing he did after disembarking was attend Mass and offer those treasures to God. Now the whole city knows he's a devout rich man." Seeing his lover's widened eyes, Paulino warmed to his task of showing off the gossip he had picked up in taverns and gambling houses. "Mr. Lando once had some kind of military career, I suppose, but he certainly never achieved any glory in his homeland. That's probably why he came East several years ago. At that time he was destitute, with nothing but a noble title. One night, after the ship passed Malacca, he fell asleep drunk on the bow. Two sailors picked his pockets for his last few coppers and then pushed him overboard from the deck."

"Heavens!"

"But he swam to shore and, with the help of the missionaries, made it to Macao. After that, the worthy Mr. Lando faithfully served—by the sword—the servants of God, the Jesuits. They say he recruited a great horde of Chinese and Japanese and led them into battle everywhere. Later, Captain Lando went to the aid of the Kingdom of Patani and defeated an invading Siamese army of thirty thousand men, capturing the King of Siam's brother. The Queen of Patani rewarded his valor handsomely."

"So this man's titles and fortune were all bestowed by the queen?" Señora Delgado asked. "A Christian, ennobled by a heathen monarch, is certainly amusing—but hardly something to boast of."

"No. He claims to be a Count of Sardinia—you know the noble titles from that place are worth next to nothing. But what happened next is as wondrous as a tale from The Thousand and One Nights. Captain Lando asked the queen to sell him a tract of mountain land up the Kelantan River. That little hill produced nothing; a gold mine had once been found below it, but after the gold was exhausted, the place was abandoned. So the queen agreed at once, taking only a single silver coin for the price of the land. But heaven knows what method that genius used to discover a new, even larger vein beneath the beds everyone thought had long since been exhausted. That is the legend of Mr. Lando; that is the source of his wealth. Now several thousand Chinese are working there for him, mining ore and smelting gold."

"In my opinion, this Mr. Lando you describe is not just a brute who knows only how to wield sword and gun, but someone who possesses real skills and knowledge—rather like Miss Arellano's fiancé, come to think of it." Señora Delgado covered her face with her fan, revealing only her eyes beneath her brow. The eager gleam in them made even her lover feel a bit daunted. "Paulino, why don't you go buy a piece of land in Siam? Maybe then you'll be as rich as him."

"Now you're the one talking nonsense, my dear," said Paulino. "Someone told me that Mr. Lando obtained his talent for finding gold from the Devil. In exchange, the Devil made him sign his name on a piece of red parchment, selling his soul just as Esau sold his birthright. I don't quite believe such talk; Faust's offering could never be placed on God's altar. But striking gold like that only happens to a man once—otherwise there would be divine retribution. Look, the lancers have entered the ring and the trumpeters are about to sound. Let's watch the bullfight."

The blare of military trumpets was deafening. The lancers in their splendid attire rode in one by one on horseback to the cheers of the spectators. The lovers opportunely ended their conversation about the gold-mine tycoon and mercenary captain, for at this moment neither could make themselves heard.

The rainy season in the Philippines was usually dreaded, but tonight was an exception. The moist haze that typically drifted in the night sky gradually dispersed, and the Manila Cathedral, the Governor's Palace, and the distant city walls stood like ghosts in the moonlight and intermittent mist.

The mayor's residence, however, was bustling. Brilliant lamplight peeked through the slats of shutters; the orchestra alternated between stately sarabandes and rapid tarantellas. Clearly the mayor was hosting a lively party—unprecedented in Manila, one might say—with even the garden hung with colorful lanterns of Japanese paper. Those in the know recognized this style as a fashionable imitation of Italian customs.

Apart from the Governor and the Archbishop, nearly all of Manila's notables had gathered here. The gentlemen and ladies' affected, elegant chatter and laughter mingled with the music, punctuated by the calls of servants high and low. Short, white-uniformed Tagalog servants carrying cups and plates, sweating profusely, now bumped into tall, strapping black slaves, now squeezed through the crowd. From the main hall door came, from time to time, loud announcements proclaiming the arrival of such-and-such a colonel, such-and-such an official, such-and-such a wealthy man who had purchased himself a noble title. The crowd would sometimes stir slightly at certain names, but most were greeted only with indifferent glances or contemptuous smiles. Manila was too remote; the few notables of colonial high society were already well known and could not stir a spark of novelty. As for merchants known only for legendary fortunes, and nobodies who aped the manners of peninsular literati to pose as cultured folk, they were even less capable of arousing any interest.

It was not until a servant reappeared at the drawing-room door and called out in a long, drawn-out voice a whole string of titles that the atmosphere shifted: "The Count of Fananovoua in Sardinia, Defender of Cetinje, Vanquisher of the King of Siam, Lord of Kelantan—His Lordship Vincenzo Lando di Fananovoua arrives!"

Note 1: Delgado means "thin" in Spanish.