Chapter 17: Malolos
Out of the train, Dimalanta hastily arranged for a carriage for me. What arrived after only a few minutes of waiting was a proper vehicle, pulled by two large horses. It was spacious enough to comfortably accommodate me, Triviño, and Dimalanta.
The town of Malolos was to be declared the capital of the Philippine Republic. Having just come from Manila, I could not help but notice the stark difference between the two. Malolos was a large rural town, but a rural town nonetheless, and had no business being the capital of a nation.
That said, I was impressed by the other things I saw there. The humble-looking place was abuzz with structured activity, befitting an administrative headquarters. Alongside the roving soldiers, the wide dirt roads were traversed by wagons and carts carrying military supplies.
All movement seemed to flow toward the imposing Barasoain Church. The large adjoining convent had been repurposed as the Cuartel General of Aguinaldo's government. A steady stream of workers, couriers, suited officials, and soldiers escorting their officers passed through its doors.
For the first time since I had miraculously been transported to this different era, I was impressed by the appearance of a building. The church and the convent were magnificent pieces of architecture. If you were to remove their much humbler surroundings, they could look like something out of St. Petersburg or Paris.
But what impressed me even more was the sight in the brick-paved plaza before them. Soldiers in rayadillo jackets and striking red trousers drilled with disciplined precision, marching in well-ordered columns. Their wide-brimmed straw hats were trimmed with red lace, and adorned with a black ribbon and a blue-and-red cockade. Slung over their shoulders—carried upright, resting on the ground, or at the ready—were Spanish Mauser rifles.
Lieutenant Dimalanta helpfully informed me that this was the Kawit Battalion, a unit directly under the President, tasked with serving as his personal guard.
The carriage halted right in front of the main doors of the convent. Already, I could feel the hum of the busyness that awaited us behind the walls. And to my surprise, I was nervous.
I had come here expecting to meet someone who was merely a glorified warlord. Now, I was not so sure. There, in the heart of Malolos, things felt too organized... too official.