Chapter 42: Barely Begun
The sala rang out with laughter. Over snacks and drinks, Vicente and Ronaldo had begun teasing each other about their mishaps during the journey.
Vicente was reminded of the time he tripped over a rock in Parañaque and fell sharply on his back, or how he curiously picked up a goat dropping—thinking it was some sort of berry—as we passed by a farm in Bacoor.
Ronaldo, on the other hand, got teased for earning the ire of a farmer’s wife in San Nicolas when he haggled too hard over one of her chickens—possibly another attempt to impress me. Or for how he flirted with one of the maids in General Mascardo’s house and got spectacularly snubbed.
The back-and-forth would not end in a tie. Triviño gained the upper hand when he recalled how Dimalanta had tried to rally the discouraged troops during our miserable march near Naic. He nudged his horse to turn around and began delivering a speech, which fell flat when, in the middle of it, his voice cracked. He persisted in continuing, but his words had lost their power—if they had any to begin with.
Nobody laughed at him then, but now, recounting it in the comfort of the Casa Real, we howled, almost running out of breath. Señor Alcantara quickly got comfortable in our company and was just as entertained by the two youths.
Isabela and two maids entered just as our laughter began to settle. With them came our lunch, and only then did we realize it was already noon—and that we were starving.
"How lucky you are, Don Martin... your daughter’s not only a looker but already a good cook at such a young age," Señor Alcantara remarked, briefly pointing at Isabela with his fork.
"I am indeed lucky, Señor... and very grateful," I said with a smirk, glancing at Isabela, who was by my side.
Her tinolang tulingan (skipjack tuna fish soup) was superb, and every sip of the rich broth seemed to soothe every weary bone and sore muscle in my body. Her skill was no less than Agapita’s, and how quickly the rice bowl ran out of rice! Already we were asking for seconds.
"Grateful? I doubt that," she said, dramatically tossing her head. I snorted, and Señor Alcantara laughed again.
By the time the maids were clearing the table, my stomach was full to the point of bursting. Dimalanta, with his big appetite, had to hurry to finish his last spoonfuls.