“What’s going on, Pedro? Why have the people come together? Don’t they know the troops can attack Chamula at any moment?”

Pedro wanted to clear himself of his responsibility while excusing the others at the same time.

“It is the fiesta of Holy Week, ajwalil. If we do not celebrate it, there is no water for planting the fields.”

Catalina dropped her eyelids so they would not notice the flash of hatred that jolted through her. San Juan’s church full of decorations and offerings, and the cave at Tzajal-hemel empty and abandoned!

“Didn’t you warn them about the danger, Winiktón?”

Yes, Pedro had grown weary of offering them his advice when they paid no attention. The people had endured more anguish and fear than they could bear. The wait had been too long and had ended up losing its meaning. Little by little the Indians were forgetting their precautions and returning to the routine of daily life. They came out from their hiding places, took up their ordinary tasks again, dared to occupy their houses once more. They were hungry and sought sustenance.

“In Ciudad Real, feelings are running very high, Winiktón.”

Pedro nodded and Catalina looked at him pityingly. She had listened to his discussions with the principal men. They were obstinate and feared that if the ritual of Holy Week were not followed exactly the powers that had protected them until then would turn against them. Catalina herself was mistaken in believing her influence could persuade them to revoke those decisions. When she said, in one of the trances she frequently fell into, that the idols of Tzajal-hemel demanded to be worshiped in exclusivity, those who heard her were left dumbfounded with fear and astonishment. But after long deliberations, the leaders reached an agreement: they would offer extraordinary gifts to the idols as proof of their submission. But they would celebrate Holy Week in San Juan’s church because he, too, was powerful and capable of doing harm.

Catalina saw how her followers deserted her as Easter approached. She exaggerated her threats and predictions of adversity, only to learn that they were useless. Then she chose to be silent and, in the end, consented to attend the ceremonies as well. Contact with the multitude had become her vice, and she had not lost hope of playing the leading role in front of the crowd once again.

“If you explained it to them, ajwalil, perhaps they would pay attention to you. You are a man of reason.”

“Assemble them as quickly as you can, and let me know when it’s done.”

Catalina walked away, holding little Domingo’s hand. They were going toward the church.

“Ask the municipal secretary to open the Cabildo. The meeting will be in the Cuarto del Juramento.”

Pedro made a motion of obedience and moved away.

When Ulloa and Santiago returned to Doña Mercedes’ stand it was almost dismantled.

“What happened, shopkeeper?”