Chapter 5: A Point
The day continued to worsen for me. News of the treaty spread like wildfire through the ranks of the elite. Before midday, Capitán Abad visited me, accompanied by Teniente Triviño, and implored me to convene a meeting in the afternoon.
Left with no choice, I obliged.
The meeting was held in the large conference room on the first floor of the Casa Real, which soon turned into a den of bickering old men.
Not only were members of the Consejo present, but also the patriarchs of the principalia families, the local elites, and their sons, who served as officers in the revolutionary force that had driven the Spanish out of the island months ago.
"¡Cáspita! Señor Nieva! What else could this mean? The Americans are here to be our new overlords. If they ever intended to help us, Intramuros should have been ours months ago," said Señor Florentino Paras, the gobernadorcillo of Boac, standing up from his seat.
The recipient of his outburst was Alberto Nieva, the head of the Nieva family in Boac, who argued in favor of the Americans. I would like to think he thought highly of them, but it was more likely that he was simply worried that his cattle business would suffer from war and its taxes.
"Sit down, Señor Paras," replied Señor Nieva, visibly startled by the intimidating figure of the town mayor. "Is it such an outrageous idea to consider that maybe the Americans were only ensuring there would be no complications once the country was ours? By paying Spain, the Spaniards have given up their claim to the Philippines, and the Americans can hand it over to us without any loose ends."
"¡Sí! Aguinaldo should not do anything that would arouse American suspicion. If a war with a mighty nation like that ever erupts, the country will be ravaged. Our sons will be sent to war... our businesses will suffer," agreed Fidel Contreras, the owner of a small but profitable copper mine.
The town mayor huffed. "¡Por Dios! ¿Dinero? Is that all you can think of?"