The sun was high in the sky, illuminating the sails of the ship from behind. Mexico could see every details of the stitching, which was in perfect straight lines. Though he did not know naval matters well, it seemed tidy to him.
Mexico was standing on the deck of one of his own ships, trying to ascertain how prepared he was to face a Spanish threat in the gulf. He knew that the attack was coming, since he had effectively guaranteed it with his conversation with Spain.
He had no regrets about what he had said and what he had done; there had been no other option. He could never have accepted any of Spain's advances, even if it had made more battles a certainty. The best he could do in the moment was to prepare.
There was not much of a navy to be had, even if there were merchant vessels that could be commandeered for the good of the country.
There was a problem that Mexico could not imagine an easy solution to: If they chose to requisition merchants or privateers, then it would mean that there would be even less certainty of trade.
Trade had already ground to a halt during the war, and the threat of Spanish ships just beyond his own territorial waters meant that many were not willing to take the risk. It was apparent to him that Spain was trying to strangle any avenue for him to support himself so that he would have no choice but to return. But, dislodging the Spanish presence would end that threat.
As Mexico looked from the sail to the rigging, he continued to contemplate how to solve the puzzle. The rigging looked like a spider's web to him, and it felt as incomprehensible to him as his present problems.
In all the years that he had gone back and forth between his own land and Madrid, he could not think of a time when he had looked up at the shape of a ship's sails or the way that its rigging was knotted.
It had never been something that had interested him, and Spain had never taught him anything about it. He remembered that Portugal had always said that Spain was no sailor.
His own ineptitude meant that Mexico had never learned much about it. So, Mexico was not even certain what he was looking at. It could have been completely wrong, and he would have hardly known the difference.
This inspection felt like a way to busy himself with something that felt productive. But, it was having the opposite effect.
It felt like he had a very small number of ships, many of which needed to be devoted to commerce. He would have to choose one or the other, and it felt like he was choosing destruction by one means or another. He had to choose between an immediate shortfall or a slow weakening.
He drew in a long breath of sea air through his nose. He turned his eyes away from the rigging and scanned down the deck. The captain was looking at him with something like akin to carefully hidden concern.
He knew that Mexico was an officer under the emperor's orders who was inspecting his ship. He had said nothing about how young Mexico looked, though the thought must have certainly crossed his mind. Mexico knew it was his apparent position of power that kept the sailors and the captain from saying anything to him.
Nominally, Santa Anna suggested that he should undertake an inspection as a way to establish what forces they had to fight Spain. But, Mexico felt like he had suggested it as a way to keep himself busy.
He turned to the captain, who said, "Does everything look like it is in order?" Mexico lied, "Yes, it does."
He couldn't have known for sure, so he had to put some faith in the idea that everything was correct. At least the deck was reflecting the overhead sunlight. That must have taken some disciplined scrubbing. The sailors also seemed ready to fight at a moment's notice. That was reassuring enough.
He turned to the captain and asked, "Are you prepared to fight? We may need to call upon you soon."
The man took a moment to look at his men and then over the horizon, like he was measuring the threat beyond it. Then he looked back to Mexico and said, "I am. Though I do not know if we have the numbers. You can be sure that we will fight with all we can, but there is a fleet coming."
Mexico nodded in agreement, and said, "The emperor is aware of that and is working for a solution."
It was half a lie. He had received a letter from Iturbide the night before, and it had hinted at making plans for rebuffing an invasion. The lack of details had been frustrating, because it felt like Iturbide was still keeping him in the dark. But, it had been clear that he was aware of the Spanish threat, and was preparing. That was all Mexico could ask for in the moment.
Mexico had also noticed that the emperor had taken an affectionate tone in the letter, which had surprised him. Iturbide had seemed eager to send him to Veracruz. However, after Mexico had been in Veracruz for a month, there seemed to be some tenderness.
He wondered if the distance had erased the memory of their last fight, and Iturbide was desiring some reconciliation. A more cynical part of his mind dismissed the possibility.
The emperor was capable of lying well, and Mexico was acutely aware that this may be a show of affection to manipulate him. He couldn't help but wonder if Iturbide felt any real loyalty to him, or if it had been theater to win the crown.
"Sir?", the captain brought him back to the present, as his mind had slipped to Iturbide and stayed there for a moment too long.
Mexico gave him an approving look and said, "You are doing good work, captain. Continue as you have been." Then he took a deep breath and prepared himself to perform the same act on several more ships before he returned to Santa Anna.
He sat across the table from Santa Anna, trying to read the other's expression. What Mexico could report to him about the state of the navy seemed to be good news. But, Santa Anna seemed to have a permanent half smirk on his face, like he knew some very amusing secret that the world did not yet knew.
Santa Anna said, "I am glad to hear it. We will need all of the ships we can get to defend ourselves. Unless the French really decimated the Spanish fleet."
Mexico had not gotten enough news from Europe to know, since he did not have a good source of information. He had heard that the war with France had weakened Spain, but it was hard to guess what that meant. He responded, "For now, we should assume that he has the strength he had before the war."
Mexico waited for some concern to appear in the other's face, but it did not. Instead, he saw nothing but a sense of quiet confidence.
Santa Anna said, "How fortunate it is that you have me then. I am certain that I am a brilliant enough commander to defend you."
Mexico raised his eyebrow and said, "Are you sure of that?"
Santa Anna smirked as he responded, "I am. Once I win, I am going to commission a portrait of myself as a hero." Santa Anna added, "You can imagine it, can't you? Me as your glorious protector."
Mexico couldn't help but chuckle. He replied, in a tone that was almost light, "That could happen. Or the emperor will remove you before that, and there will be no glory for you. That would end your plans."
He was amused by it all, and the seemingly boundless confidence. The mortal raised one of his eyebrows suggestively and said, "Oh, do not assume that I am that easy to get rid of."
He gave Mexico a charming smile and added, "I have decided that I am devoted to you."
Mexico scoffed. He didn't believe that for even a moment. It seemed to him that a man like Santa Anna would never feel true loyalty. It was beyond him, Mexico was sure. But, he could not guess who felt real loyalty if he had been wrong about Guerrero.
Mexico said, "I think you are devoted to the fame and fortune." Santa Anna replied with the same charming smile, "I think that the two can go hand in hand. I can show you that I have the talent."
Mexico thought that almost sounded like he was planning some glorious action. He said, "Did the emperor give you any orders?"
He had no idea what Iturbide was planning, but it seemed evident to him that it would never include Santa Anna. The mortal replied, "I received a letter today. The emperor says that I am free to act if I see an opportunity. He is giving me the latitude to act."
Mexico thought to himself, More rope to hang yourself with. He could see the logic as clearly as if Iturbide had told him. If Santa Anna succeeded, then Iturbide could claim that he had given him the ability to act. If he failed, then Iturbide would have better grounds to dismiss him as an incompetent commander. Either way, he could take credit for the outcome.
A weariness set in as Mexico thought about it. He felt so bitterly tired of these political games and Iturbide's willingness to engage in them.
He was frustrated that Victoria and Guerrero were willing to put him at risk for a political victory over the empire. But, it seemed that the emperor was little better. He was leaving the defense of a key port city in the hands of a man that he did not trust for the sake of proving a political point.
Mexico thought bitterly that mortals were capable of thinking of nothing else. It was strange and exhausting to see these men in power fight, when it felt like Spain was drawing closer by the day.
if anything, Santa Anna's self centered charmed seemed refreshing. It was clear where he stood, and what could be used to sway him.
Mexico took a deep breath, and tried to think of any response. But, he felt like the days of sleepless nights were hitting him in the moment. He said, "I am tired. The inspections today were exhausting, though I would say that they were satisfactory. I can give you more details in the morning. I am going to go to retire for the night."
He hoped that he would be able to leave with that excuse alone. Surely the man would understand that a day of looking at ships and talking to captains would be tiring, though that was not the reason Mexico felt so tired.
He felt like he needed a moment alone to think, and then to sleep until this terrible exhaustion faded. Santa Anna nodded and said, "Get your rest. I am planning an attack to show the Spanish that we will not let them dictate when and where we fight. You will need to be well rested when I choose to make my move."
Mexico nodded, as though he agreed with the idea. But, he had his own trepidation about Santa Anna acting on his own. He would have to hope that the man was as talented as a commander as he claimed. He stood and gave his commander one last inclination of his head before leaving.
Once he was in his room, and the door was firmly closed, he let out a sigh.
Closing the door felt like momentarily shutting out the headache of politics. It was momentary, but it was a reprieve. As long as he was here, there was no pressure to solve the problem of the continuation of the empire.
If he desired, he could simply sink into the pillows and forget them all. It was incredibly tempting to do exactly that and block out the world. He could pretend that Santa Anna wasn't only a few rooms away.
But, that felt incredibly childish, like he was running from the problem. Even if he was tired, there was still work to do.
He walked to the desk, and picked up the letter from Iturbide again. He had read it over twice quickly the night before, looking for some explanation of his plan.
He felt like he should read it over again, in case there was anything he missed. He took the letter to bed with him, laying back against the pile of pillows. As he skimmed through the letter again, he was struck again by the tone of it.
It started with "Alejandro, My dear empire." Then it descended into flattery, about how he missed Mexico's presence deeply. There was the ambiguous sentence, "If it comes to battle, I know that you will fight well as you always have. I know that you are singularly talented."
It seemed to him that Iturbide was trying to frame the choice to send Mexico to Veracruz as a credit to Mexico's skill in battle. It was the kind of flattery that he knew was empty, but it also did feel somewhat validating that Iturbide was trying.
It was a marked difference from the tense reception he had gotten when he had left. He knew it was possible that it was all just a ploy to get back in his good graces. But, he preferred it to the barely concealed tension between himself and his emperor.
The tone aside, the end of the letter was the most interesting to him. Iturbide could not have been more clear in his wording. He stated, "I am only asking you to endure Santa Anna until I can secure another commander for the position in Veracruz. If you suspect that he is disloyal to me, then send a convert letter to me and I will deal with him. We will secure the future of the empire together."
Mexico felt strange reading the words. As far as he knew, Santa Anna had not been disloyal to the empire, though Mexico had already planted the seeds for him to be. So, there was nothing to tell Iturbide about.
The emperor had not bothered to ask about Mexico's own loyalty. Mexico could read it as an attestation to his absolute faith in his country. But, he was not so foolish.
Iturbide had more reason to suspect him than Santa Anna, since he was the one who was invested in the insurgents already. Even if Iturbide thought that there was a rift between him and Guerrero, he had reasons to suspect Mexico would be drawn back to the side of his old commanders. Unless he was really under the impression that by making sure Mexico was invested in spying on Santa Anna he was also making him more a part of the imperial regime.
He could imagine Santa Anna receiving a similar letter that directed him to look for signs of disloyalty in Mexico's behavior. The question was whether Santa Anna would do so, or if he had even noticed. He seemed so preoccupied with himself and his plans that Mexico doubted that he had even noticed that his country had met with Victoria.
Mexico felt like it was reasonable to assume for the moment that Iturbide did not suspect anything that he had been doing. If he could keep Santa Anna in doubt about the emperor's intention, then he could be certain that his actions would continue to be unknown to the emperor.
He read the end of the letter again and tried to decide what to do. If he could expect that Santa Anna was going to be replaced, then he wondered if it would be best to frustrate Santa Anna's efforts to prepare for battle.
If he could succeed, then it would make him a popular commander, which would make him harder to remove. But, on the other hand, Mexico did not feel like he should aid Iturbide's schemes.
He decided that he would do nothing to stop it.
Spain would take advantage of anything that he could, and he would certainly seize the opportunity if he thought there was disunity between Mexico's leaders. It would be smart to take the initiative before Spain suspected that there was some reason for the delay.
Mexico knew that it was all contingent on being able to have the numbers to take that initiative. Without knowing what he would be able to muster on his side, or what kind of numbers Spain could still command, it would be difficult to plan any sort of attack.
Mexico put the letter aside and then rubbed his forehead where there was a headache blooming. He had no idea how to fix this myriad of problems, and the stress was beginning to effect him.
He knew that he should sleep, and it would make him feel better. He felt the longing to sleep next to someone. It felt desperately lonely to be by himself trying to solve these problems.
He knew who he missed, whose broad chest he wanted to cuddle against and sleep. He refused to think his name at all, because the yearning felt like weakness.
The worst, unbidden thought occurred to him. He had a way to contact Victoria, and Victoria almost certainly knew how to contact Guerrero. That thought led him to realize that he hadn't tried to write to Guerrero at all.
After the man left, he had thought of contact as completely lost. But, given what he knew about Iturbide's role in keeping Guerrero out of government, it seemed that he should have tried.
Guerrero had not abandoned him, it seemed. Victoria had even made it sound like Guerrero was keeping their relationship secret, even though he had reasons to be angry.
Mexico bit his lower lip and felt momentarily like he had been in the wrong. He missed Guerrero, and he knew he was missing a man who had lied to him. He felt guilty for shutting the man out so firmly, when it had all been based on his initial reaction.
He closed his eyes. The feelings were overwhelming, and he wanted them to stop. Thinking about his personal feelings in a moment when there was a political crisis was selfish, but he could not make them stop. The only thing that cut off the spiraling thoughts was sleep finally overtaking him.
Mexico was sitting in the small library trying to think through the same problems he had the night before. He had found a chess board and had put it on the table.
He took the chess pieces out of a velvet bag one at a time and placed them on the board like he was setting up a game. There was no one to play with, but it felt like something to do while he tried to think through his next move.
He felt like what he had on his own would not be enough to fight Spain, and most certainly not at sea.
He placed a pawn on the board, and thought about the options. He needed some kind of alliance to bolster his position and make Spain reconsider his aggression.
America had recognized him as a country, but had stopped short of offering actual aid of any sort. The thought of asking America for help did not appeal to him at all. He only had to think of the struggle of getting the blonde to leave his bed to convince himself that America should be a last resort. He did not need to spend time negotiating with America in the bedroom for support.
He placed another pawn on the board with a dull thud. There had to be another option. When he had rebelled, England had been willing to help fund him, but he didn't think he could be certain of the same kind of support for a second time. Given the war in Europe, he wasn't certain that England even had the money to spare. And given that England barely knew him, or had reason to continue his support, it was unlikely that he could help.
Mexico started laying down the back row of pieces, starting with the rooks. England had also not yet made any statement that indicted that he was going to recognize Mexico as a country. That made Mexico certain enough that England would not be a reliable ally.
He finished setting his own side of the board and started working on the other. In his mind, he was trying to think of Spain's enemies, and which of them would be willing to take a chance on providing him with money or ships.
He could be certain that the rest of Spain's former colonies could be counted as his enemies, but Mexico knew none of them liked him enough to back him. He was certain that Peru's offer at the beginning of the wars had never been an offer of sincere solidarity. It had been a way to get Spain out of the way by giving him a better target. It had been like throwing Mexico in front of the raging bull to avoid the horns themselves.
Mexico let out a long sigh as he continued to place the pieces. He knew he couldn't count on the other former colonies. They had hated him when he was Spain's favorite, and they would do little to protect him from Spain's aggression.
If Cuba was in any position to aid him, then he might have been the last friend Mexico could count on. But, he was still a colony, unless there had been some push for freedom that Mexico didn't know about.
The thought that came next was that France was Spain's greatest enemy. But, he knew that he could not turn to France.
He had already made vague promises to France that he did not intend to keep. Going to France would likely mean that France would expect him to fulfill those promises.
As Mexico finished filling the board, he realized that he couldn't think of another enemy. He knew that Spain had never been interested in making friends with other empires, but that did not mean Mexico could solicit aid from his enemies. It felt like his options for support were running dry, and it was the moment he most needed it.
Relying on mortals was clearly not an option for him. They all seemed to have their own ideas of what needed to be done, and all of their reasons seemed selfish to him.
He felt like he should have known that his problem in time would have been his lack of friends. He turned his mind away from the problem and glanced across the table.
He wished that there was someone there to play a game of chess with. He was smart enough not to wish that Spain was his opponent, though Spain had been the one who he would usually play again. He had played a few games with Guerrero during the war, but he also knew that he couldn't long for Guerrero.
There was an ache in his heart at how alone he really felt. All those who he may have counted on were gone, and he couldn't even find a partner for chess.
He let out a long sigh and put a hand to his head. He was about to let himself give into despair when he heard the door open.
He looked up to see one of the couriers standing there. He expected that there was either a message from Santa Anna or another from Iturbide.
He asked, "What is it?" The courier replied, "There's a man here to see you."
Mexico doubted that there was anyone visiting him who could be of consequence. He asked, "Are you certain that they are not here for the commander? Did he ask for me specifically?"
He tried to think of who it could even be. Spain would not be so bold as to come to him directly. The mortal responded with a nod and said, "He said that he wanted to speak to you, and that it is an urgent matter that he would like to discuss."
Mexico sat back in the chair and said, "What does he look like?"
The answer would let him know if the mysterious visitor was. The man replied, "He's blonde, and very tall."
So, America had decided to take the choice away from him and return. Mexico felt like he should have expected as much and be grateful for aid if it was offered.
He stood up and said, "Take me to him."
He adjusted the front of his jacket and hoped that America would be suitably impressed. He had not seemed hard to charm before. Mexico was certain that he would have to do exactly that: charm America into offering whatever resources he could.
But, the figure in the foyer stopped all of those thoughts. Even from a distance, he knew that the person was too tall to be America. The blonde hair was also longer, and the uniform was wrong for the American navy.
Mexico felt the frustrating sense that he knew the tall man standing in his foyer, but he couldn't quite place him.
Then the blonde smiled at him and a memory came back to him. It was an old one of court life, when he had to be very young. He remembered a man who had once been a part of the empire, but who had left when Mexico was still small.
Mexico said, without really thinking, "Oh, it's you!"
As soon as it left his mouth, he was certain that it was not formal in the way that it should be. It was no way to greet a delegate from another country. But the other simply said, "I was worried that you wouldn't remember me."
Mexico shook his head, "I do remember you." The blonde said, "Well, I will introduce myself for the sake of formality."
He extended his hand and said, "Johann van Dijk. The Kingdom of the Netherlands."
Mexico took his hand firmly in his own and said, offering his own name back out of politeness, "Alejandro Garcia Hidalgo."
The name felt brand new as it rolled off his tongue, since he had only adopted it after the independence.
The Dutchman smirked knowingly and said, "You aren't using his surname anymore." Mexico replied, "No, I'm not. I don't want anything to do with him."
He saw a look in the Netherlands' eyes like a kind of understanding. For a moment, he felt like someone understood his decision without explanation.
He said, trying to focus on the needs of the moment, "I am glad to see you, but I was told that you had something urgent to discuss with me."
Knowing that the visitor was the Netherlands, and not America made Mexico reconsider whether he was still able to ask for aid.
He hadn't said a word to the Netherlands since he was a child. Spain had always insisted that the Netherlands was a traitor and should be ostracized as such. He wasn't sure if he could ask for anything at all from him, since he felt like a kind of estranged relative.
The blonde said, "I do. I also have some advice, but I would like to talk to you in private."
It was an unsubtle reference to Santa Anna's courier, who was still standing behind Mexico. It was easy enough to know what to do. Mexico said, "Of course. We can talk in the library."
He knew that the room would offer relative privacy, and he was intrigued by the prospect of whatever the Netherlands had to offer.
As they walked to the library, it occurred to him that the Netherlands had come all the way from Europe personally. Whatever this urgent discussion was, it was worth making a long trip to deliver.
Mexico closed the door and turned to the other man. The Netherlands said with no preamble, "You need ships and I have them."
Mexico blinked twice quietly out of surprise. He had thought he would have to ask earnestly for any help. But this was offered so quickly that he wasn't sure how to react to it.
He recovered and said, "You can't possibly be offering me your navy."
The blonde shook his head and said, "I unfortunately cannot. But, I am a neutral country and I can transport your commercial goods. You will need that to avoid getting stifled by Antonio. He will try to starve you into giving in. I would rather not see that happen."
Mexico knew the answer immediately. He needed to have some aid, and being able to protect his commerce would be invaluable. The Netherlands continued, "That will make your own ships more available for defense."
Mexico was grateful for the offer, but he found himself staring at the tall European waiting for a demand. This seemed to be aid offered with no conditions, and nothing was ever so simple.
He said, trying to get some clarification, "I would be happy to accept that. But why are you offering me this?"
The man raised one eyebrow and said, "It doesn't make sense to you, does it? You expect everyone to want to take from you the same way Antonio does?"
Mexico nodded, slightly taken aback by the blunt delivery. He replied, "Well yes, I expect you want something in exchange for your help."
He noticed that The Netherlands had started looking around at the books like he was interested in what Mexico had been reading. He said, looking at the book shelves, "I want Antonio to not get what he wants. That is enough for me. If I can spite him, then it will be worth my effort."
Mexico tried to remember the details of the grievances between Spain and the Netherlands, and couldn't quite summon the details to mind. Perhaps Spain had chosen not to tell him.
He watched for a quiet moment as the Netherlands was looking through the books. He didn't remember the man being so tall, but he had been a child when they last interacted. And things looked different through child eyes.
Then, he said, "And what was the advice you wanted to give me?" Mexico felt like he would be willing to give the Dutchman any time he wanted in exchange for what he was already being offered.
He could already imagine the way that it solved all of his issues with ships. With his own ships free to defend his ports, it improved his odds against Spain considerably.
He owed the Dutchman at least a listening ear after such a generous offer. The Netherlands turned away from the bookshelf and fixed his gaze on Mexico. Then he said, "I am the only person who has ever successfully left Antonio's empire. I know what it is like."
Mexico bit his inner lip as he contemplated. He felt like the answer should have been obvious to him. He asked, "And what should I do?"
The blonde sighed and said, "It's not going to be easy, and I am sure you know that already. You will have to be prepared for a long fight. Antonio bled me dry for eighty years. You have wounded his pride, and he will do anything to force you to come back. He sees it as an issue of pride."
Mexico had known about the long struggle Spain had to retain the Netherlands. He had not been privy to Spain's thoughts at the time, but he had been aware that it was happening.
He hadn't thought of how it mirrored his own situation. Spain hadn't respected the peace treaty in that case either.
He said, "I am going to fight him with whatever I have."
It sounded hollow, since he had no other choice. But it still earned him a look of warm approval. The other responded, "I am sure you are. I was impressed that you fought him for this past decade. I am certain he will drag you through another decade at least."
Mexico felt momentarily glad that he could make the Netherlands proud. The Dutchman paused for only a moment before saying, "And another piece of advice I would offer is to know what you want from your independence."
That caused Mexico to pause and look at him like he didn't quite understand. He knew that he wanted independence, and that had been the reason he had endured such a long war. He asked, "What do you mean?"
He was not certain that he could be any clearer in his intentions, so the advice didn't seem at all necessary. Mexico felt almost like it was patronizing.
But, the Netherlands replied, "While I don't know what you are thinking, I can speak for my own experience. I wanted to escape Antonio's control so badly that I didn't think about what I wanted to be once I was independent. I hadn't given it a single thought since I was putting my energy into leaving the empire."
He stepped closer and kept his gaze on Mexico and said, "This is what I wanted to tell you in confidence, since your leaders will not like what I am going to tell you. But, you must decide what kind of government you want and pursue it. Mortals will all try to push you towards their own ideals. They will have their convictions, and they will tear you in different contradictory directions."
Mexico felt like he understood, and it was disconcerting to hear his own experience spoken by someone else. He had thought that he had encountered particularly stubborn politicians. But it seemed that it was not unique to him.
The Netherlands continued, "Monarchists and republicans turned my independence into a civil war, and I hope you are able to escape that fate."
Mexico felt himself biting his lip again. He knew he should maintain an unaffected facade, but this also felt like an opportunity to talk to someone who might understand.
The other's blue eyes were reassuring enough, and he knew that the feeling of trust was coming from his good memories of the Netherlands from his childhood. But the man had not felt like a threat to him when he had just arrived in Spain, and he still did not feel like a threat.
Mexico knew the feeling was not entirely rational, but decided to take the chance anyway, and he said, "It has already started. They all want something different from me."
The blonde nodded and then walked over to one of the chairs. He put his elbows on his knees, which gave the impression that he wanted to have a very serious conversation. He said, speaking in the tone of a patient tutor, "And what do you want?"
Mexico wasn't sure how to answer. He wanted the security of an established government, which Iturbide was offering to him. But, he felt a strong pull towards Victoria and Guerrero, and the kind of government they were offering him.
He also remembered what Morelos said about not trusting that much power to one man, and in theory he agreed. They were all proving how unreliable one mortal man could be.
Mexico said, intentionally evading the question, "I want Tony to accept that I am independent." The Netherlands heard his implication and said, "And after that?"
Mexico didn't have a prepared answer, so he said, "I don't know. I want whatever will keep him away."
The other nodded like he understood. He replied, "You don't need to answer that question for me. You should answer it for yourself before men try to tell you what you want."
He paused before adding, "I will not tell you what to do. But, for what it is worth, I think you should consider a republic. You and I both know that monarchies are flawed. The Spanish monarchs were half mad. trusting your people isn't easy, but it is worth it."
Mexico decide to take the chair across from him. The man had certainly given him a lot to think about. He said, "I think you have given me more than I could ever repay. You must want something in return."
The blonde leaned toward him and said, "As I said, I want nothing from you. I want you to live well away from Antonio, since I know what losing you will do to him. He'll be ruined as an empire. I could think of nothing I want more."
Mexico saw the shadow as his jaw clenched on the words, and heard the angry snarl in his voice. He had never imagined that such animosity existed between Spain and the Netherlands. If he had known it earlier, he would have exploited it.
But as it was, he was glad that he had someone who was willing to help him when he needed it. He said, "If you are willing to tell me, there is something else I want to ask."
The Netherlands' grimace turned back into a small smile and he replied, "Go ahead. I'll tell you whatever I know."
Mexico nodded. He knew that a European would have a better idea of how badly the war had effected Spain. It was what he most needed to know. He asked, "How badly was Tony's army and navy hurt by the war with France? I need to know what he has left."
The blonde took a moment to think, and it looked like he was contemplating thoroughly. Then he said, "Well, I am not certain. But I know that he had a hard fight with France. He was fighting him with everything he had, and trying to maintain his hold on you at the same time. So, I think that he must have very little left. But, I think that you should know that his guerrilla warfare endeared him to much of the rest of the continent. It has frustrated for me to hear many praise his bravery in the face of French occupation."
Mexico could not imagine how Spain had shown himself to be brave when he was busy inflicting repression on his colonies. No one would be sympathetic to Spain if they had seen what he had done to Hidalgo.
He understood what the other was saying though, and it was a prudent warning. He said, "So, you think I'll find less help from Europe?"
The blonde nodded with a regretful look on his face. He replied, "Sadly, he's gotten sympathy, and very few people are willing to turn on him."
Mexico sighed to himself. He wished that they all realized how much Spain was manipulating them all. One act of heroism did not absolve him of anything.
Mexico nodded to himself and noted that he was lucky for the Netherlands coming to his aid. Unprompted, the blonde said, "They act like he wasn't saved by his brother's relationship with England."
Mexico looked up at him questioningly and said, "What? What did Phillip do?"
He felt an unexpected twinge at the thought of Portugal. He hadn't thought of him in years, and he was suddenly missed the comforting, mentoring presence. He should have sent a letter to Portugal since he had become independent.
He had very little idea what the Netherlands was talking about. He had seen Portugal and England together before, but never questioned their closeness.
But, the smirk on the blonde's face and his frank language told him it was something very different. The Netherlands smirked again and said, "He convinced his lover to help Antonio free himself from Francis. Arthur never would have been willing to do it without the promise of those sweet green eyes."
Mexico smirked to himself. He had never thought of it, but it didn't surprise him that Portugal had a love life. Anyone would have been lucky to have him. He said, "I had no idea that Arthur felt that way about Phillip."
The other said with a very knowing look, "From what I heard, Antonio didn't either. It was a shock to him."
Mexico could imagine the look of inevitable shock and rage that must have been of Spain's face. How it must have hurt that his brother was dating his mortal enemy. There were very few people that Spain hated more than England.
Mexico was amused at the very least. He said, "You should stay the night. It must have been a long journey." The other replied with a smile, "I would be glad to."
After a long night and a short goodbye, Mexico found himself wandering along the shore thinking about the question the Netherlands had put to him. He had thought about it through the whole of dinner and the night after that.
He had laid awake trying to figure out which of his thoughts belonged to Morelos or Hidalgo or Guerrero, and which were his own.
He looked out at the ocean and tried to make sense of what had been circling in his mind for hours. He thought about what the other country had said about trusting his people. He had said that individual people could be easily fooled, but the people on the whole would make good decisions.
it reminded him of what Morelos had said to him years ago. It had sounded convincing to him at the time, and he wasn't sure when he had become so skeptical of the idea of democracy.
He could have no guarantee of who would be president if he did throw his effort behind a republic. When Morelos was his general, it seemed like it was a near certainty that he would become the head of state. In that case it had seemed like he could trust the president.
He glanced around at the people on the street. Could he be certain that any of them would make the right decision? Then, a nagging voice asked if he could be trusted to make that choice on his own.
He had chosen wrong so far in choosing to back Iturbide's bid for the crown.
He contemplated as he walked, now turning back to return to the base of operations. If he could just come to a conclusion in his own mind, then he could act on it.
He turned his mind back to the question of whether anyone could be trusted to decide his leader. He had no certainty of who he would end up with after the masses decided.
If he could be certain that it would be Victoria, he would agree to it. The man was level headed enough that he would serve well as a leader, and Mexico would be willing to support him. But, there was no assurance that a vote would lead to Victoria having power.
There was an unpleasant shiver down his spine as he thought of the concept of Guerrero becoming president. He did not want to be forced to spend time with a man who had lied to him. He was no longer certain of what Guerrero had felt or meant. It was clear to him that some of it had been Iturbide's manipulations, but that did not mean that Guerrero had been sincere either.
It was not so hard to believe that the people would choose Guerrero, since he was a war hero and was well loved. He was an easy man to love.
Mexico stopped his own train of thought there, trying not to allow it to reach its natural end.
But, on the other hand, he could be certain of who he would be dealing with if he chose the monarchy. It would be Iturbide, who he felt more and more alienated from by the day.
Then it would be his son who would take the throne. Mexico did not want to pass judgement on a boy when he was still young. But, the boy had fainted when he had heard about his father's new position.
It didn't seem that he had the constitution for leadership, and that the prospect scared him. His fainting seemed to indicate that he was scared of the idea on being the crown prince. Perhaps it was kind to relieve him of the burden.
Mexico sighed to himself as he saw the door again. He could see the direction that his own thoughts was going, and it seemed so obvious that he felt like he had been ridiculous for meditating on it for so long.
He knew that he was at least willing to give Victoria a chance to explain his plan for how to create a republic. He did not have to agree, not quite yet.
But, as he reached the door to the library, he had an idea for the letter he needed to write. Once that was done, it would be a simple matter of finding a boy in the market and returning a pocket dictionary with a certain letter folded in its pages.
Mexico came back from the market with a self satisfied smiled on his face. He felt like he was finally doing what Morelos had wanted from him, and had believed him capable of. It was nothing solid yet, but losing the weight of deliberation made him feel much better.
"You seem quite pleased about something."
Mexico turned to see that Santa Anna had been watching the door as he came in, like he had been anxiously waiting for him to return. If Mexico thought Santa Anna had any loyalty to the emperor, he would have been worried that he had seen him.
But, he was certain that Santa Anna was not looking at him with accusation. He was especially certain of it when Santa Anna smirked at him and said, "I hope you aren't about to tell me that the Spanish fleet has mysteriously vanished. I have the most brilliant plan to rid us of them."
Mexico walked over to him, trying to act like he hadn't been planning any sort of rebellion hours before. He said, "I don't think they have. But, I don't think I would be able to see that from here. If they were in the harbor, it would be easier to know what we are facing."
Santa Anna replied, "No, that would be far too easy. I would be very impressed if you could see all the way to Havana."
Mexico was surprised to hear that, though it should have been obvious to him that Cuba would be the easiest place to prepare the attack. He responded, "How do you know they are in Havana?"
He met the mortal's eyes and momentarily felt like he believed in Santa Anna's strange confidence. It should seem absurd, but the completely frank and certain delivery was convincing.
Santa Anna placed one hand on Mexico's back and guided him to a table where there was a map laid out, "I have my sources. Let me show you what I am thinking."
Mexico replied, trying not to sound too cynical, though he doubted that everything would be as simple as Santa Anna was making it sound. It wouldn't be, if Spain had any strategy at all. He said, "I don't suppose you have any idea how many ships he has? Did your source tell you that?"
It was critical information, and he was certain that it would be essential in planning a defense. He was hoping that whatever Santa Anna was able to know would fill that gap. All that the Netherlands had been able to tell him for sure was that Spain's ability to wage war was far less than it had been before the war with France. But, he had not known anything specific about the numbers.
The Netherlands had already given Mexico so much without asking for anything. He wouldn't ask for more.
Santa Anna shook his head, "Unfortunately, I do not. My source only saw that they were going to Havana. It would make our lives easier if we knew."
He turned to the map and placed a marker in Havana. He met Mexico's eyes and said, "We know that they are massing their fleet there."
He pointed to the map, like it was unclear when he meant. Mexico nodded anyway, because he would rather that Santa Anna got to the point.
The mortal continued, "We don't have the numbers to take the fight all the way to Cuba. But, thanks to your Dutch friend, we have the ships to have scouts to watch their position. The moment we know that they are going to attack, we will mount a defense at a bottleneck."
He pointed to a spot in the harbor where ships would have to pass in very close. Mexico understood his reasoning, since it would be easier to make up for any disparity of numbers if they set the terms of engagement.
He said, with slight amusement, "You're planning a trap? How dishonorable of you."
He knew that his tone was not serious. Santa Anna responded with an amused smile, "Would you rather be honorable or be victorious?"
Mexico smiled back and said, "I think you know the answer to that."
He felt distinctly aware of Santa Anna's hand on his back as the man replied, "I think I understand you completely."
Mexico took another glance at the map and tried not to think about the hand on his back. It wasn't entirely necessary and he decided not to contemplate it. Instead, he said, "You nearly have me convinced of your brilliance, commander." Santa Anna said, almost sweetly, "You can call me Antonio."
Though the man meant well, Mexico felt like he couldn't get that name to roll off of his tongue without thinking of Spain. But, he didn't want to admit to that yet. He said, "Let's not be too familiar yet."
He turned his gaze intentionally back to the map so he didn't have to see how Santa Anna was looking at him. He then said, "So, all we need to do now is wait."
The mortal replied, "Yes, and I suspect it will not be long."
He then added, with another knowing smile, "Even if it does, I will refuse to be removed by the emperor."
Mexico scoffed, amused by the brazen statement. He could not imagine that Santa Anna would have any choice if it came to that. Iturbide would not take no as an answer if he issued an order.
Mexico said, "And how are you going to do that?"
He was amused to see what kind of answer the man would give. Santa Anna said, as casually as he said anything else, "I have my own soldiers who are loyal to me."
Mexico raised his eyebrow in mock surprise. He said, "That sounds like treason."
Any man with a sense of shame would have taken the opportunity to pretend that the statement was a joke. But Santa Anna seemed to make no such retreat. Instead he said, "Well, let's keep that between us then. You don't tell anyone what I just said, and I won't question where you were today. Does that sound like a deal?"
Mexico thought for a brief moment that he had the proof Iturbide wanted. He could have easily written a letter to Iturbide, and won the man's trust and esteem.
But, as he looked at Santa Anna, he felt no desire to do it. He had nothing to gain from it, and it would only lose him a commander. He already knew that he was not going to say anything about it to the emperor. Mexico replied, "I think we do."
There was a folded piece of paper on the side table by Mexico's bed that he was sure had not been there before he left. It caught his eye as soon as he entered the room like an unbidden intruder.
It was folded neatly like a letter, and by all appearances that's what it was. But it was strange to him that it would be left without anyone telling him.
He glanced around like he was about to see a courier leaving. But there was no one there, and he was left with the puzzling question of where the letter had come from.
Perhaps they had brought the letter when he had been delivering his letter for Victoria, and there had been no opportunity for a discussion.
He picked it up and turned the paper in his hand, looking for any clue who it was from. But there was nothing more than a scribbled name on the outside. It was Mexico's name, in a handwriting that he felt like he knew. But it couldn't possibly be from the person he thought it was.
He opened it, and immediately knew who had written it before he even saw the signature. Cuba's handwriting would always be familiar to him, even if this looked like it had been composed in secret. It was rushed and the words blurred together at points.
Mexico could imagine him so clearly in his mind's eye. He imagined Cuba standing at the harbor scribbling notes about the numbers of ships.
The idea brought unbidden tears to Mexico's eyes. He felt so touched by the thought that his friend would be willing to take that risk for him. They were far apart, and it had been years since they had even spoken last. But, despite all of that, Cuba had chosen to send him a letter.
Mexico's heart ached, and he could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. He was certain that if Spain had found out that Cuba was taking any notes about the ships at all there would have been swift and brutal punishment.
If he could guess from the last time he had seen Spain that the man's temper was certainly more volatile than usual. And no one would accuse him of being a level headed man even when he was in a good mood.
Mexico knew the risk that Cuba was taking, and he wished profoundly that he was able to thank him. He read through the rest of the letter, occasionally having to stop and puzzle through the messy letters.
It was a remarkably complete description of the Spanish fleet in Havana, down to the kind of each ship and their state of repair. Based on the description, it sounded like Spain had rushed repairs on several ships that had been involved in the war with France. Those would be weak, and easy to sink if Mexico was careful.
It also seemed that Spain's naval capacity had definitely reduced, though only a fool would think it would be an easy fight. It was all the information that Mexico had been missing, and he couldn't quite imagine how he had such luck.
Mexico put his free hand to his chest, over his heart. This must have taken enormous effort and care to write, and Mexico felt like he didn't deserve this from a friend who he had not been close to for years.
He could also imagine how difficult it had been to sneak it across the gulf and to him. He wished he knew what kind of subterfuge it had taken for this letter to appear in his room without a trace of who had brought it.
He reached the bottom of the letter, and his heart hurt as he read the last few lines. They said, "From what I've heard, it sounds like you have a week or two to prepare. I wish you luck, my friend. I could not be more proud of you. I hope we can see each other again under better circumstances."
Mexico wished he could do anything to express his gratitude for the warning and the information. He wished he could hug Cuba like he would have when they were children.
He folded the letter carefully, certain that he would keep it until he could see Cuba again. Then he raised it his lips and placed a soft kiss on the paper. He added softly, "Thank you, Carlos."
