Republic Reborn: Against the Stars and Stripes-Chapter 75: Cruel

The very next day after the meeting, the people of Sta. Cruz gathered to witness a public execution. It was early in the morning—just bright enough to not be dim. Still, the townsfolk responded in force, eager to witness what would be a first in their town.

Children were perched atop their parents’ shoulders, young men swam through the crowd to get a better view, and vendors took advantage of the event, selling sweets and rice cakes. Even the young women of the principalia attended, escorted by their servants and hiding their faces behind unfurled embroidered fans.

Where we set up would have been an odd choice were it a regular gathering. We were at the far end of the town plaza, away from the presidencia municipal, near the uglier portion of the town. Behind me stood an abandoned stone structure—the remains of a former Spanish government building.

The gobernadorcillo and the principales had taken refuge under the shade of a nearby mabolo tree.

I wasn’t overly fond of the fact that women and children were in the audience, and how the event was being treated like casual fanfare. But it would serve my purpose all the same.

I nodded to Pedro, who stood not far from me, near the front ranks of the crowd.

"¡Silencio! ¡Silencio!" Capitan Madrigal suddenly shouted, raising a fist at the crowd. The soldiers forming a human barricade repeated the command. Slowly, conversations died down, and heads turned in our direction.

The presidencia municipal lacked a balcony. Nor was there a stage in the plaza for speeches.

So, once again, I climbed onto the back of my horse and used it as a platform—one I could move at will.

I nudged my horse forward until I was inches away from the soldiers. I studied every anticipating face as I rode along.

"Good people of Boac!" I began. "Your peace—your way of life—is being threatened. When we pushed out the Spaniards, we thought we were finally free of foreigners. That at last, we needn’t pay tribute or swear loyalty to a faraway king."

"But just as we are on the cusp of ridding the country of the Spaniards, a new foreign overlord threatens to take their place." I paused for effect. "The Americans have declared war against the Filipino people!"

I nodded theatrically as I heard the gasps and murmurs ripple through the crowd. I hadn’t needed a speech in Mogpog—there, I was confident the Mendez brothers would do the exhorting for me. But Sta. Cruz, with its hesitant principalia and distance from Boac, needed a firmer push.

I thought about mentioning the battle that had already occurred but realized it wasn’t necessary. These people didn’t need the details—they just needed to be riled up.

"Our Filipino brothers in Manila are resisting this unjust invasion," I continued. "But soon the war will spread across the country—and reach the shores of Marinduque."

Most of the people by now likely knew I was the general who defended the village of Kasily. But a proper introduction was still necessary.

"I am Martín Lardizábal... gobernador politico-militar of Marinduque, appointed for my contributions to the Revolution," I declared. "And last January, I met the Presidente in Malolos, and he appointed me Heneral in charge of Marinduque and the neighboring islands."

The crowd remained silent—but I knew they believed me. Since they first saw me, eyes hadn’t stopped admiring the khaki uniform I wore for the occasion, or the impressive kampilan sword fixed to my saddle.

"I have already begun my work in Boac and Mogpog. As we speak, the cabezas are delivering their quotas of goods and men, and my officers are training recruits into soldiers. I have stockpiles of rifles and uniforms ready for any man who has what it takes to join the army."

I looked to Lorenzo, giving him the cue to do what he was tasked to do.

"And if yesterday wasn’t proof that I can lead us to victory—then what is?"

The crowd, silent until then, came alive as Lorenzo and the soldiers escorted out the first batch of blindfolded pirates—ten of them.

The ’very small request’ the principales had asked of me was the public execution of all the pirates. Many had lost loved ones during the raids or seen their property looted and destroyed. The pirates were hated in Sta. Cruz, and never once had the people been able to avenge their losses. Now they sought justice.

I was not overly fond of the outlaws, but my modern sensibilities had subconsciously caused me to overlook execution as the proper punishment. Yet the more I thought about it, there wasn’t a viable alternative. We didn’t have enough detention facilities, and I doubted I had the means—or desire—to reform these men, who were not only of a different faith, but hardened by lives of pillaging and killing.

Aside from their blindfolds, the pirates had their hands tied behind their backs. They were made to face the stone wall of the abandoned building, while Lorenzo and the same soldiers who had escorted them lined up behind.

"Fifty-two pirates dared to attack the village of Kasily under my watch. Sixteen were killed outright. All thirty-six survivors were captured," I said, standing up in the stirrups to prepare for the next theatrics. "I killed three myself, including their captain—this sword belonged to him."

I unsheathed the sword and lifted it high to the roar of the crowd. It was heavy and cumbersome in combat, but perfect for ceremony.

"And today, we shall send his men to the afterlife—along with him!"

In the deafening tumult, I rode toward Lorenzo and his men.

I raised the sword above my head. "¡Preparen armas!"

The soldiers loaded their rifles.

I lowered the sword parallel to the ground. "¡Apunten!"

The soldiers aimed.

I paused. I could never get used to killing men completely at my mercy. But these ones deserved it.

I swung the sword down. "¡Fuego!"

Gunshots cracked through the air. Blood sprayed against the wall. The pirates dropped lifeless to the ground. The crowd cheered.

The corpses were dragged aside. Another ten pirates were escorted into place. The crowd, now fully stimulated, began hurling projectiles at the prisoners. Colonel Abad tried to calm them.

Then the chaos doubled. Perhaps having realized their fate, the pirates began struggling against the soldiers. Lorenzo didn’t know what to do, and some of his men began to be overpowered. Nearby soldiers rushed to help, but they couldn’t fire unless the prisoners were facing the wall and still.

Mauser ammo was scarce, so the executors had only Remingtons, which reloaded slowly.

I sighed, sheathed the kampilan, and dismounted. I snatched one of the Remington rifles from a soldier and asked for a bullet.

After reloading, I grabbed one of the pirates and wrestled him to the ground. With a foot against his chest, I shot him point-blank in the head. Blood sprayed across my face and soiled my uniform.

The soldiers began copying what I did—less skillfully, more brutally. They beat the pirates with the butts of their rifles until they collapsed. Then came the gunshots.

The crowd only grew wilder. Under the tree, some principales had stood up—cheering and laughing.

It never ceased to surprise me how cruel people could be.