Catalina saw the doors of her hut thrown wide open. She fell back against the wall as if to melt into it in a childish attempt to protect herself. Some men had entered the room, wearing threadbare, almost colorless uniforms, men whose coarse features were predominantly indigenous, but whose origins had been eclipsed by the abjection of a miserable life, degraded habits, petty vices.

The policemen lifted Catalina off the ground, holding onto her by her clothing. Since her feet could not support her, they dragged her out of the hut. She saw some soldiers robbing her belongings, then found herself outside in the harsh weather. A few minutes later the hut’s straw was in flames.

The women and children had gathered in the center of the group of huts. They watched with inexpressive eyes as their town burned down.

Later, when the fire had gone out, the women (carrying their children on their shoulders or pulling them along by the hand if they could walk) were roped together and led to Ciudad Real. Catalina was thrown across a horse’s croup.

The group’s arrival in Ciudad Real caused an extraordinary commotion. People abandoned their daily tasks to lean out of windows and doorways, forming small circles on the sidewalks or joining the procession of policemen and prisoners, working themselves into a rage with jeering comments, threats and even quick, furious blows that the soldiers willingly tolerated.

The Indian women walked quickly, stumbling against each other, trying to protect their children. The hostile crowd grew larger as they approached the center of the city. By now their words had lost their initial timidity; they waved their fists with ever greater audacity and resolution against these exhausted women, gasping with fear, ready for any humiliation. Who would intercede on their behalf? Who would stand between their defenselessness and their enemies’ fury? Their only hope of survival lay in reaching the Niñado jail before a collective scream of extermination burst from those throats.

Catalina came to her senses somewhat later. Her prison companions were jammed with her into a dark, narrow, reeking cell. She looked at them questioningly but could find no response in their faces, shuttered by panic and animosity.

That night the female guards brought each of them a cup of coffee and a few stale baked tortillas to divide up among all of them. The mothers gave their share to their children. Catalina rejected her portion and little by little fell back into a stupor.

The following day, the prisoners were taken from the Niñado to appear before their judges, accusers and witnesses.

The crowd was milling around the doors of the Palacio Municipal, eager for news and vengeance.

Catalina felt something stir inside her when she recognized the priest of San Juan Chamula and Xaw Ramírez Paciencia among those present in the courtroom.