Chapter 20

The young priest stood at the church door, greeting his parishioners individually as they came out. Once again, he felt the service had been a tremendous success. He had been carried away by his own oratory and now realised, to his shame, that he had not thought of the old priest once during the entire ceremony. When the last of the congregation had left the church, he hitched up his surplice and made his way down the steps and across the square to Rosalba's shop. There he found the old man sleeping peacefully on Rosalba's couch, a beatific smile on his face. Rosalba herself was at the sink, washing out some rather unpleasant-looking cloths. She turned as he came in.

"An excellent service, Father," she said.

He stared at her, open-mouthed. She had not attended the service. How did she know? Something about Rosalba always made him feel uncomfortable.

He nodded at the old priest. "He seems much better," he said.

"Humph!" said Rosalba. "It is a miracle that he still has the leg. Who put on those bandages?"

"The housekeeper," said the young priest. "She has looked after Father Ignacio for more than forty years." Even as he said it, he realised how ridiculous it sounded. As if the length of time somehow justified incompetence. And why did he feel responsible? It had not been his decision to let the housekeeper do it.

"Very well," said Rosalba. "Now, he will recover, I think. All he needs is a few days' rest. He can stay here. I will get one of the men to accompany him to Sanisido when he is recovered."

The young priest stared at her in horror. "I cannot go home without him," he said, "The Se?ora will kill me."

Rosalba stood with her back to the old priest, her arms folded and her face in an implacable frown. She somehow conjured up the image of some wild animal defending its young. The young man backed off a couple of steps.

"This Se?ora," Rosalba said between her teeth. "Is this the same Se?ora who tied the bandages so tight that it almost stopped the blood flow?"

The young man gulped and nodded.

"She did not want him to come," he whispered. "She said he was too ill to ride." She had also said that all the people in Amendillas were heathens and witches, but the young priest thought it would not be politic to repeat this.

"It was well for him that he did come," said Rosalba, not moving from her predatory stance. "You can tell her from me that she has caused this poor man unnecessary suffering and that she should not attempt to treat the sick if she does not know what she is doing. But that Rosalba L¨®pez ?lvarez has taken him into her care and he will return when I say he is ready," her voice rose, "and not one moment before!"

The young man nodded again. "I will tell her," he said, privately deciding that he would rather face a hundred Se?oras than one angry Rosalba, and he made his way back to the church to fetch his mule. He noticed peripherally that the old priest's mule was no longer there. Someone had no doubt taken it for stabling. Not his problem. He mounted his mule and rode out of the village, the young girls following him with their eyes and sighing.

* * * *

When the old priest woke up, he felt wonderful. Rosalba was at the other end of the kitchen, cooking something on the fire. He felt no need to say anything. He was just happy lying there watching her. She was indeed a truly handsome woman. But she seemed to sense that he was awake anyway and turned towards him.

"Ah, Father," she said, wiping her hands on her apron and coming towards him. "How are you feeling now?"

He gave her a feeble smile. "I feel marvellous," he said. "Thank you."

Rosalba shook her head. "It was not so bad," she said. "You will be able to ride again in a few days."

The priest sat up and looked round him wildly. "A few days!" he cried. "I cannot lie here for a few days! There is the mass at Sanisido. And the mass here. Have I missed the mass?"

Rosalba put her hand on his shoulder. "Be easy, Father," she said. "Tranquil. The young priest took the mass here and he will take the one at Sanisido. Rest easy. He does a good job. He is a credit to you."

The old priest sought Rosalba's eyes and his face was so full of sorrow and pain that she almost misgave, but she continued. "You must be a great teacher, Father. The whole village is impressed with how well that boy has done. We all admire you so much."

She stopped, wondering if perhaps she was overdoing it, but the old priest was watching her, his eyes rapt, nodding in agreement.

"It was such a good idea of yours to take on an assistant. We all felt you worked far too hard, and we do not want to lose you, Father. It is a great relief to know that some of that burden can be given to another."

The old priest thought about this whilst he ate Rosalba's excellent roast chicken. He knew how much the people loved him, of course, but he had not realised how they had worried for his health. It really had been a good idea to take on the boy. He had conveniently forgotten that it had been the bishop's decision, not his. And, of course, a man with his gift for teaching should use his skills as the good Lord intended.

After dinner, Rosalba gave the priest a little sip of brandy and sat down comfortably beside him.

"I am glad to have this opportunity to speak to you in private, Father," she began, "because I have a small problem and I need to ask your advice. You see, there is a young couple in the village who wish to get married and nothing will do for the wretched girl but that she must marry on the feast day of San Isidro. I have been wracking my brains trying to think of how it can be done, since, as I am well aware, you are needed in Sanisido and could not possibly desert your congregation on such an important occasion." Rosalba paused and wrung her hands. "It is so important to the girl, since it is her dead father's birthday, and she promised him on his deathbed that she would marry on that day. I tell you, Father. I am at my wits' end."

The priest seemed to consider for a moment. He scratched his head and stroked his chin. Then "I have it!" he declared. "The young priest can take the service."

"But," said Rosalba, "has he done the wedding service before?"

"I do not think so," said the priest, "but he is a bright boy and very willing to learn. Let's see. We have three weeks. Yes, I believe I could teach him in time."

"Oh, Father, I knew you would find a way. How clever you are!" said Rosalba.