It was Fransisco Lim’s first ti entering the Casa Real. The forr Martin had a close relationship with him but never really required him to leave his stall. But as soon as I learned he was at the tiangge on Friday, I took the liberty of inviting him to the more secure setting offered by the governor’s residence.
"What do you think about the Aricans?" I blurted out the question, and only after saying it did I realize how abrupt it was. We had just finished our small talk.
But if Lim was surprised, he didn’t show it. He calmly completed his sip of coffee and slowly placed the porcelain cup back on the table. "The Aricans? What do you an exactly?"
"They’re good for business, aren’t they? I an—with all the new products they’re introducing to the market," I said, trying to keep my tone as neutral as I could, "And the Arican dollar... it’s a robust currency."
Fransisco was a smart man. Though he nodded, he began to study my face. "Yes... you could say that."
"And are you still of the opinion that we should avoid confrontation with the Aricans at all costs?" I felt the air thicken around us as our friendly façade dropped with my continued questioning.
"It’s too late for that. Aguinaldo has proven unwilling to compromise, and Arica has realized they can only get what they want through force. Any day now... war will sweep over Luzon." Fransisco looked squarely in the eyes.
"Do you think he made a mistake?" I continued to prod, knowing full well I was being impolite. "War is very disruptive to trade. Our rchants will likely lose clients and the lucrative deals they offer."
"If he were a businessman... then purely in the lens of trade, yes—perhaps even a terrible blunder," Fransisco said, stressing each word. "But as I understand it, he’s trying to be a leader of his people. And in that regard, his refusal to bend to his country’s intruders is comndable... even if it likely leads to a conflict he may lose."
I nodded, then stroked my beard as I pondered my next question. "You don’t consider yourself a Filipino? I noticed you speak of the country and the Filipino people in the third person."
"Because the Spaniards made sure we’d feel like aliens in this country. We do an honest living—more hardworking than even you indios—and yet we’re treated like third-class citizens." Fransisco let out a bitter chuckle.
That wasn’t the sentint I was hoping to draw from him, but it was true. The Spaniards never trusted the Chinese, nor truly considered them subjects of the Crown. They were taxed separately—and more heavily. And in Manila, they were confined to ghettos, segregated from the rest.
"Are you perhaps suspecting to be a friend of the Aricans?" he asked, smiling and shaking his head in disbelief. He still hadn’t taken another sip of his coffee.
"No... but I just want to know... the specific reason why no one should suspect that."
Fransisco clenched his jaw slightly. "Because as we speak, my holand is being carved up like a cake by foreign powers. The north belongs to the Russians, the northeast to the Germans, the south taken by the French, the central plains by the Brits, and Taiwan by the Japanese. All our main ports harbor foreign warships."
His gaze only intensified, and at last I looked away.
"Na a more violated country than China, Don Martin," Fransisco said. "I am no friend to invaders. And if I could wish it—I would want Aguinaldo to win this war. I would want these islands to belong to the Filipinos. Let the natives be the victors in these foreign incursions for once. But alas... I am just a rchant."
I glanced back at him and found him still staring sternly. I fought the urge to imdiately blurt out an apology in respect to his passionate response.
Finally, he turned his gaze away and picked up his cup of coffee.
"I do apologize... it’s just... tis are uncertain, and I need soone I can truly trust," I said, and I genuinely ant it. Fransisco had always been a straightforward man, and even as a rchant, he was honest and reasonable—albeit uptight.
"What’s the matter with you? Here I am, glad that you finally have over as a guest, and then you question like a criminal. It’s rude and out of character for you." Fransisco sighed and shook his head, visibly easing. "I heard you went with Vicente to Manila and stayed there for more than a week. What exactly happened?"
"Well..." I shifted in my seat and turned to the satchel beside . As I had done for the Colonel and Pedro, I took out my letter of appointnt and the shoulder straps to show him. "I am... one thing led to another... and I’ve been appointed as a general, in command of the islands of Marinduque, Mindoro, and Romblon."
Fransisco seed unsure whether to look at or at the items in his hands, which he held as if they were sothing he shouldn’t be touching or seeing. "This is sensitive information, Don Martin. Are you sure I should be hearing this?"
"I’ve decided—I will trust you. And I need you to do sothing discreet for ."
I reached into my satchel again, this ti for a folded paper and an envelope.
Fransisco promptly unfolded the sheet and made a quick scan of its contents. "And why do you assu I would accept this?"
"I heard you loud and clear, Señor Lim. Should my authority be established in this region, you will enjoy very favorable trade rights. And if the republic triumphs... I will champion better treatnt for the ethnic Chinese in the country."
Fransisco smiled. "Very noble of you, Don Martin. But I’m a trader—I don’t deal in promises."
"I thought as much," I nodded. "Inside the envelope are twenty crisp one-hundred-peso Spanish banknotes. I don’t need the items fancy—just sturdy and functional."
"You can charge whatever fee you think is fair."
Reviews
All reviews (0)