Macario: Chapter 2

Macario : Chapter 2

Translated by Michelle Kellaway

After spending a long time in search of the perfect place, Macario finally reached the most remote part of the woods. Appetite raging, he began to prepare his turkey. Making himself as comfortable as possible upon the hard ground, he reclined against a great tree with a deep sigh of satisfaction. He took the bird from its basket and spread before him a plantain leaf as if it were a tablecloth. He placed the turkey's wing upon it as if in offering to the gods, letting out another reverent sigh.

He thought he might take a nap after his feast and sleep until night, converting a good day into a veritable celebration--the first he had ever had in his life.

Seeing the well-prepared meat and smelling its hearty aroma--an aroma that knew no parallel among the twenty million others among the human race--he couldn't help but exclaim:

"I must say what a wonderful cook she is, even if she will never get to see me enjoy this."

It was the most profound expression of gratitude that he could give. His wife would have died of happiness and pride had he said this in her presence. But this would never happen--as soon as he saw her, words always failed him.

He had washed his hands in a nearby stream and was just about to begin the solemn ceremony in which he would see the fulfillment of all the dreams of a man who had prayed long years to be shown such mercy. Holding the breast meat in his left hand, he took one of the turkey's fat legs in his right, ready to tear it from the body and begin eating. That is when he spotted two human feet standing not two yards from where he sat.

He slowly looked up to see black pants carefully arranged to fall directly at the ankles, covering the tops of two narrow riding boots. To his surprise, he found that boots and legs both belonged to a charro, a wealthy cowboy, who was intently watching his ceremony. The charro wore a very wide sombrero richly embroidered in gilded thread and a leather jacket handsomely decorated with buttons of gold and borders of silver and multi-colored silk. His pants shone with gold buttons lining the sides of each leg and boots glittered with the precious light of two solid silver spurs. The slightest movement caused them to brightly tinkle, as they did when their owner addressed Macario.

Macario looked up into the strange face. It was sharpened by a large black moustache and goatee. The eyes, no more than slits, were equally black and as penetrating as two needles. The thin lips twisted into a malevolent smile.

"What do you say, friend, to giving a nice piece of that turkey to a tired cowboy?" he asked Macario with a voice of steel. "See, I've just ridden all night and am dying of hunger. How about you offering me a bit of your lunch?"

"In the first place, this isn't my lunch," returned Macario, clutching the turkey as if fearing it might fly off. "And in the second place, I am inviting no one to share in this meal with me, no matter who asks. Understand?"

"I'll give you my finest spurs made of pure silver in exchange for only that leg you're holding," offered the charro, licking his lips with a tongue so thin and forked it looked almost like a snake's.

"Those spurs don't mean a thing to me, not if they're made out of iron, steel, silver, or diamond-studded gold! I don't own a horse." Macario turned his attention back to the turkey.

"Fine, then take the buttons lining my pants and I'll take that turkey's breast. Deal?"

"That gold won't do me a thing, except maybe put me in jail. If someone sees me with a bunch of buttons from your clothes, they'll lock me up and torture me until I confess that I stole them, then they'll cut off my hand like a thief's. And what would I, a woodcutter, do with only one hand when I could already use four, if the Lord would be so kind as to grant me that?"

Ignoring the insistence of the charro, he tore the leg from the bird and began to eat. He was interrupted again by the visitor's voice:

"Listen, friend. I own this forest and all the others in this region. I'm ready to give them to you if you just give me a wing and a handful of stuffing. All of that for so little!"

"No you listen, stranger. These woods aren't yours. They belong to God, by whose grace I cut wood each day and provide fuel for my village. And even if you were to give them to me or I were to give you a piece of this turkey, it wouldn't change a thing. I would still have to work like I have every day of my life."

Still, the charro insisted:

"Come on, my friend..."

"Hold it," Macario interrupted with growing impatience. "You are no friend of mine, nor am I friend to you. And hopefully it will remain that way as long as I live. I see it all clearly now. Go to hell--back where you came from--and leave me to enjoy my meal in peace."

The charro made a fearful face, cursing the world and the human race, and took off.

Macario continued to stare a moment at the place his visitor had been a moment before. Shaking his head, he murmured to himself:

"Who would have thought that these woods could hold such strange types? I guess the Lord had to create all kinds of people, so we could believe him capable of creating this earth."

With a sigh, he once again took the turkey's breast in his left hand and, as before, took one of its legs in his right. And again he looked up to notice the presence of two feet standing before him, located exactly where the charro's have been not a minute ago.

They were shod in well-worn sandals that showed how far their owner had traveled. Without a doubt they belonged to a very weary man whose long-used arches had long fallen.

Lifting his gaze, Macario encountered a sincere and kindly face ringed with a scraggly beard. The visitor worse a weathered cloak, clean despite its age; his appearance was that of any local peasant.

Macario's eyes were transfixed by those of the pilgrim, as if they held a magical power. In them the woodcutter could see the heart of a poor man that ha united all the blessings of heaven and earth. In those pupils shone small golden suns that invited one to look towards the sky and contemplate God in all His glory. In a voice ringing of distant organs, the visitor said:

"Give unto me, good neighbor, as I will some day give unto you. I am hungry, so hungry--as you can see, beloved brother, I've come from a great distance. Give unto me, please, the leg that you hold in your hand, and I will bless you for it. With that I could satisfy my hunger and regain my strength, for I have yet to walk many miles before I reach my father's land."

"Traveler, you are a great man, the most holy that man will ever know," intoned Macario, speaking as if in prayer to the Blessed Virgin.

"Then, my good man, grant me half of the turkey's breast. Surely that is not too much of a burden to you."

"Oh, my dear pilgrim," returned Macario in a grave tone, as if speaking to the most important person alive, an archbishop, when in reality he had never met one in his life. "If you, honored Lord, believe that would be no loss to me, I'll have to answer you with much misgiving and all my humility, because there can be no other response left to me: you are very mistaken.

"I know how that I must call you 'Lord' at risk of blaspheming any more--I must talk s if it decided my entry into heaven or hell. That voice and those eyes compel me to utter nothing but honest truth. You know then, Lord, that I cannot give you even the smallest bit of this turkey. I beg you to understand. The bird was given to me with the intention that I eat all of it by myself. Even giving you a piece the size of a fingernail would break that unspoken oath. All my life I have prayed for a turkey and to share it now, after having hoped for it all this time, would destroy the trust of my wife--a woman so good and faithful that she has faced considerable sacrifice to give me the greatest of gifts. So, my Lord, I beg of you, forgive the wishes of this poor woodcutter. I beg of you."

The pilgrim contemplated the man standing before him and said:

"I understand, Macario, my brother. I comprehend you and I bless you. You may eat your turkey in peace. I will pass through your village, find your house, adn bless your fine wife and your children as well. May God always be with you--today, tomorrow, and until your last days upon this earth."

After watching the pilgrim until his lonely figure disappeared among the trees, Macario shook his head and said:

"To deny him was painful; how tired and hungry I now feel. But there was nothing I could do. I couldn't have given him this leg nor any part of this chest, for that would have been to give up the entire turkey."




Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Back to B. Traven page

Home