Never an Empire by James Green Page A

up then, accompanied by a whiff of singed material, handed the whole lot over to Maria who took it into the hut.
    Father Enrique was still fast asleep, gently snoring, when she went into his room and placed the bowl of hot water by his bed. She shook his shoulder.
    â€˜Father, it is time to get up.’
    He replied but his voice told her that although he spoke he was still asleep.
    â€˜Carmen?’
    She shook him again, a little more roughly and raised her voice.
    â€˜It’s Maria. Father, it’s time to get up.’
    Father Enrique turned onto his back and looked at her sleepily, seemed to become aware of something wrong, then looked round the room.
    â€˜Where am I?’
    â€˜Where you were yesterday, in the village. It will be another long day and you must begin. Your hot water is by your bed.’
    And she left him.
    The hot water stood on the floor steaming with a rough towel beside it which Maria had picked up on the way through to wake him. His clothes lay where he had dropped them the night before.
    He sat up on the edge of the bed. Nothing had happened: she had not come. Then he remembered her face in the firelight and the laughter of the policeman and he was glad she hadn’t come. Now he knew what sort of woman she was he could remove her from his mind and his heart. Once back in San Juan he would make some excuse and go to Manila where he would find a fellow priest and confess his sin. Then he could return to his parish and all would be as it was before he ever set eyes on her. He stood up feeling better. Today he would be a priest and nothing but a priest. The madness which had possessed him for a while was gone and he was glad.
    Maria found the sacristan sitting at the table in the main room. He didn’t look happy; it had been uncomfortable on the floor by the door and he had not slept well, although he had not been disturbed. All of his discomfort he blamed on Maria. Who would come and disturb the priest at night when he had gone to bed? It was nonsense, stupid woman’s nonsense, and on top of all that he still didn’t know what he would get for all the trouble he had been put to helping the priest in this mad escapade.
    â€˜Is he awake?’
    â€˜He will be.’
    â€˜They are waiting, they have been waiting since dawn and the sun is already well up.’
    â€˜Let them wait; they are nothing. He is the priest, and without him they would have nothing to wait for. Go and tell them he is getting ready and will be with them soon.’
    The sacristan left and after a few minutes Father Enrique came in. Maria was getting his breakfast ready for after Mass. It was some sort of porridge.
    â€˜This is poor stuff to give a priest, Father.’
    â€˜They are poor people.’
    â€˜No reason to set such food before a priest, especially one who has travelled so far to be with them.’
    â€˜It is all they have. They have to live on that and worse.’
    â€˜Pigs eat slops but that’s doesn’t mean the farmer should eat slops with them.’
    Father Enrique was in a good mood. A burden that the Devil had laid on him had been lifted. He didn’t like to find Maria so snappy.
    â€˜Why are you in such a bad mood, Maria? The day has only just begun; how can anyone have upset you already?’
    â€˜When I woke you, you called for Carmen.’
    He turned his eyes away from her and looked down at the porridge she was mixing. She was right; it didn’t look appetising.
    â€˜Did I?’
    â€˜Yes.’ She stopped mixing and looked at him. ‘Did you think she would come to you, here in her own village?’ He shrugged. Last night he had hoped, had wanted her to come. But this morning things were different. ‘You were a fool to come if you thought that.’
    He looked up at her.
    â€˜But it was your idea. You said I should come. You said that if I came you would be able to help me.’
    â€˜Yes, it was my idea. But my idea was for