The village priest, Padre Puebla, was in a panic. The Bandit General was on his way to ravish his village. It was but a poor village consisting mainly of downtrodden poor peasants and a few equally destitute shopkeepers and mechanics. But that would not stop the Bandit General any from stripping them all bare of what little they had. Strip them bare of their souls as well as their property all in the name of The Glorious Revolution.
Oh he will come to the church alright thought Padre Puebla and demand of me what little treasures the church has. All his church had by way of treasure was a pair of golden candlesticks, a silver chalice, and less than thirty pieces of silver from last week’s collection. So he gathered together these few treasures and locked them up in a big old battered chest of his and decided he’d bury it somewhere.
But now he had two problems. First the chest was too big and too heavy for him to carry by himself and second he had to find a place to hide it. So he prayed to the Lord for help and the Lord answered his prayer for as he was praying the front doors of the church blew open and in burst the thief Paco.
Paco was a regular customer of the priest’s. Like clockwork he would always come in on the first of the month and confess to all his ‘misdoings’ as he euphemistically called them from the month before. That way he reasoned he kept his slate clean, up to date, with a zero balance owed the Lord. Padre Puebla would of course always forgive this poor misguided soul. First because in a funny odd kind of way Paco was a likable scamp. And second for the reason that it was his job to forgive people for their sins. And when he forgave Paco for his sins, he would always say unto him, “Go forth and sin no more my son.” But sin more the son would do and Padre Puebla could do nothing but forgive him again and again and smile.
“Paco, I am so glad to see you. Welcome my child. Please come in. The Lord has need of your services, my son.”
Padre Puebla knew that if anybody knew where to hide a treasure it was Paco. After all that’s how he made his living finding other people’s hidden treasures to steal. Therefore it only stood to reason that he would know where to hide the church’s treasures now wouldn’t it. Hide it where the Bandit General would never find it for sometimes it takes a thief to do the Lord’s work.
Beckoning to Padre Puebla’s call, the thief about to go on the cross, came forward. Padre Puebla warmly engulfed him in a big old bear hug. He was a much bigger and larger man than the diminutive Paco for he was well fed at the church’s expense. The proof of the pudding being that he was a little flabby and had a slight paunch. Padre Puebla finally released his hold on Paco after Paco told him he was squeezing the life out of him. But Padre Puebla did not release the church’s hold on Paco. He looked heavenward and uttered, “Help us Lord in what we are about to do.”
‘We Father?” questioned Paco. “ What are we about to do? I didn’t come here to do anything. I came here for my monthly confession just like I go to my barber for my monthly haircut.”
“I will hear your confession my son but first you must help me hide the Lord’s treasure chest here,” replied the priest pointing to the chest.
Paco’s eyes lit up upon hearing the words ‘treasure chest.’
“This here treasure chest Father?” he asked, going over to it, laying hands upon it, rubbing his hands over it, his eyes lighting up.
“Yes the Lord’s treasures my son. I need you to help me carry the chest and bury it somewhere where the Bandit General will never find it. You as a thief certainly must know of a good hiding place. Help me do this and you will be granted a thousand pardons provided of course that you do not come back later and steal it. For if you do, you will burn in Hell forever.”
There thought the priest that ought to put the fear of God in him.
A thousand pardons that’s a lifetime pass thought Paco.
“I will help you Father but I have no shovel. I will have to steal one first from some poor peasant. Give me a few minutes and I will be back with two shovels, one for each of us.” Paco didn’t care that much for physical labor and he’d be damned if he was going to do all the digging himself.
But just then God intervened for the second time and in walked the poor peasant Pablo.
“No you won’t,” said Padre Puebla, “for God has just given us shovels. Pablo here will provide them. Won’t you my son?”
Pablo came forward, nonplussed by all that, went straight up and away to Jesus on the cross hanging on the wall in the front of the church and knelt before Him. Then he crossed himself, mumbled something known only but to himself and God, and rose. “What is all this about shovels Father?” he asked.
“I need you to help us hide this chest,” he said pointing to it. “For it contains the church’s treasures and we need to bury it. Bury it somewhere where the Bandit General will never find it. Paco here is going to find a place for us to bury it.”
“Oh but you don’t need Paco to find a place for you Father. You may bury it at my farm.” Pablo was anxious to earn some points with Padre Puebla for he came here to ask a favor of him.
Padre Puebla looked at Paco for his approval, for after all he was the expert here in hidden things, not the peasant Pablo.
“Well Paco does that sound like a good idea to you? It does to me.”
“That will work, Father,” said Paco, not wishing to contradict his priest but mad at Pablo now for stealing his thunder. “The Bandit General would never think of looking for it at the farm of a poor impoverished peon such as Pablo here.”
Pablo was insulted by that remark and was about to insult Paco with a derogatory comeback about his profession but Padre Puebla cut him off.
“Good. It is settled then. We will bury the chest at Pablo’s. We will go along the river. It is the quickest way there. Hurry now my children pick it up and let’s go.”
But Pablo did not move. He stood his ground. “Father?” he asked.
“Yes my son, what is it?”
“I came here to ask a favor of you.”
“Well what is it my son?” asked Padre Puebla, visibly frustrated now by the delay.
“I seek sanctuary for my three daughters here in the church. You know what the Bandit General and his men will do to them if they find them.” Pablo was a widow and saddled with the responsibilities of solo parenthood. His wife having died giving birth to their third daughter.
“Granted my son,” Padre Puebla answered quickly as he waddled to the church’s back door and held it open for Paco and Pablo. “Come now my children, hurry, hurry, bring the chest, and follow me. I’d help but my back has been bothering me again.”
The holy yet unholy, anointed and appointed, trio trudged along the river to Pablo’s farm and when they got there Paco suddenly stopped and set down his end of the chest, the rear end.
Padre Puebla and Pablo were nonplussed. They were in the middle of Pablo’s barnyard.
“Here is where we will hide the Lord’s treasure,” said Paco pointing to the corn crib. Paco wanted credit for picking the spot to hide the treasure.
“There in the corn crib?” questioned the priest.
The corn crib was small, approximately ten by ten and it was only about half full of corn to the height of about five feet.
“Yes there in the corn crib. We will bury it in the middle and pile the corn on top of it,” answered Paco. “No one will ever think to look for it there. Burying a treasure in the earth is not a good idea. People will see that the earth has been disturbed and therefore figure that something’s buried there and start digging. But no one would ever think to look in a corn crib for treasure now would they? Besides there isn’t that much corn in there and it will be easy for all three of us to bury.”
Though the plan appeared to be ingenious, another reason Paco chose the corn crib was that it was easier moving some ears of corn around than digging five feet into the hard compacted earth. And this way Padre Puebla could help too.
“Okay,” said Padre Puebla, “it is settled then. But remember that each of you has made a covenant with God. So do not forsake Him oh my children for if you do, He will rain His wrath down upon you forever,” he added, throwing in the wrath of God again for good measure.
So they all three went into the crib, took out the corn, placed the chest on the floor in the center, and then covered it over with ears of corn.
“There,” said the priest when they were finished, “it looks the same as before now doesn’t it?
“Yes Father,” echoed his children.
“Good. Go about your business now and when the Bandit General has left the village, I will come get you and we will retrieve the treasure. Okay?”
“Yes Father,” jointly chanted his children.
The priest left and went back to his church to tend to his new flock of three lambs, the daughters of Pablo.
Paco slinked back to his lair.
And Pablo remained at his farm guarding the treasure as he worked his fields.
The Bandit General was in the village now and paid Padre Puebla a visit at the church. Padre Puebla had sheltered Pablo’s daughters in the church’s choir loft, with the other angels he joked, but the Bandit General was not concerned about them even though he knew they were there. No what he was concerned about was where was the gold and silver. So he questioned Padre Puebla at length but Padre Puebla did not cave and told him nothing and after a while the Bandit General’s patience began to wear thin. So he told Padre Puebla that he had other ways of finding out things. Like how he found out about Pablo’s daughters being there in the church. So he left.
The Bandit General’s other ways of finding out about things were not all that subtle and he found out in no time at all from the priest’s parishioners that Padre Puebla, Paco, and Pablo had been seen together yesterday down by the river carrying a chest. That transformed the holy trio into the guilty as hell alliance and they were immediately rounded up, taken into custody, and thrown in the calaboose.
There cramped together in a small smelly cell the Bandit General issued his edict. “You three were seen together carrying a chest down by the river yesterday. You will tell me where you buried the treasure and tell me now before the Federales get here or I will kill you, all of you. So who wants to tell me where the church’s treasures are hidden.”
“If we could have but a few minutes please sir,” begged Padre Puebla ever so politely.
Padre Puebla had a plan.
“Granted,” said the Bandit General. “For let it not be said that I am an unreasonable or ungenerous man. I will leave now but be back shortly. Back with baited breath.” he laughed, his chest jiggling his phony medals.
Padre Puebla had a plan but it was not a good plan.
“Look,” he said, “here’s what we will do. Since we were seen down by the river, I will tell him that we buried the chest along the river. He will ask me to take him to it. I will take him to the river but not find it of course. I will tell him then that whoever saw us must have dug it up. Hopefully he will go after that someone and that will buy us enough time until the Federales get here.” Padre Puebla knew that would bring the Bandit General’s wrath down upon some poor innocent soul, but he could not help himself. He had to save the Lord’s treasure. So silently he asked God to forgive him as Jesus had forgiven Judas.
“Well what do you think?” he asked his compatriots.
Paco and Pablo both sat there with their mouths open not believing that a man of God would do such a thing.
“Agreed then,” said Padre Puebla, “that is our story and we’re sticking to it in the name of our Lord. Okay?”
His children nodded their heads affirmatively for one does not dare disagree with one’s priest now does one?
The Bandit General returned.
“So are you ready to tell me?” he asked.
Padre Puebla answered for them. “Yes I will take you to the river to where we buried the treasure.”
“Good. Let us gather at the river then,” joked the Bandit General as he smiled, a smile missing a canine tooth.
Padre Puebla then led the Bandit General to the river and pointed to a spot on the river bank. “Here,” he said. “Here is we buried it.”
“Dig it up,” the Bandit General ordered.
“But I have no shovel,” pleaded Padre Puebla.
“It is but mud and ooze. Get down on your hands and knees and dig it up, priest.”
So Padre Puebla got down on his hands and knees and scooped up the muck and the guck of the river. But of course the earth regurgitated no treasure. And after digging a few more places, the Bandit General’s patience had expired.
“Some one must have dug it up, General,” said Padre Puebla. “The someone who saw us.”
“Yah right,” growled the Bandit General.
“So since you refuse to disclose the treasure to me, I have no choice but to keep my word and kill you. Hopefully the peasant, once he knows you are dead, will tell me.”
But the Bandit General had no intention of killing Padre Puebla. He already had enough troubles with the Federales on his tail and he didn’t need to be bringing the wrath of God down upon himself for killing a priest. So instead he took him back to the jail and placed him in an isolated cell deeper in the bowels of the jail far away from the other two. Then he said unto the priest, “I will take the poor peasant now to the river for his baptism under fire. And if he does not find the treasure for me, I come back with him and kill the both of you then. Then I will take the thief and if he doesn’t tell me, I will kill him also.
So much for the plan of Padre Puebla.
Underneath all that huff and puff the Bandit General also had a plan and it was a somewhat better plan than the priest’s.
He had his men, for a Bandit General does not do physical labor, create a fake grave of the good father by piling some loose dirt about a foot high in the shape and length of a grave and place a cross upon it. Then he got Pablo, took him to the priest’s faux grave and showed it to him.
“Here is the priest’s grave mi amigo. This will happen to you too if you do not tell me where the treasure is. For iI I can kill a priest, then certainly I can kill a peon like you now can’t I?”
But that did not scare Pablo. In fact it embolden him for he thought that if Padre Puebla did not break, did not lead the Bandit General to the corn crib, then he too would not break.
“Well what say you?” asked the Bandit General. “Are you going to tell me or not?”
Pablo did not answer. Instead he lifted his chin defiantly in the air.
“Do not think I do not know where your daughters are mi amigo. Tell me where the church’s treasure is or I will let my men loose upon them.”
Certainly a father could not be that deprived thought Pablo and certainly the Bandit General was a father for it was rumored that he had fathered many daughters and sons too. Perhaps he will listen to me if I appeal to him as one father to another thought Pablo.
“Do you have a daughter?” he asked the Bandit General gambling on the answer but pretty sure it was a safe bet.
“Do I have a daughter?” laughed the Bandit General slapping his thigh. “Well none that I know of anyway.” He in fact knew of at least four. It’s good to be Bandit General and have women at your disposal.
“Well if you did and someone raped your daughter what would you do?”
The Bandit General without hesitation blurted out, “Why I would kill him of course. Kill him especially slow like.”
Then the Bandit General paused. He felt a pang of guilt about letting his men rape this man’s daughters and decided to spare Pablo, a fellow father like himself, from all that. So he said unto him, “I think I must think about this a little more mi amigo.”
So he took Pablo away to another subterranean cell and left him there. Then he had his men create a second fake grave next to the first fake grave. Then he had them dig a real grave, next to the second fake grave. For as said it is beneath the dignity of a Bandit General to do physical labor. And then he got Paco and took him to the now three graves, two fake, one real.
“Do you wish to join your two compatriots here Paco?” he asked him. “For as you can see I already have a grave prepared for you.”
Paco looked into the abyss of his grave to be and thought if this man can kill a priest and poor peasant, then certainly he will have no trouble killing a low life thief like me. Paco weighed his options. What the heck he thought, go ahead and tell him, ain’t no skin off my nose now is it, and with these two gone there’s no one here to rat me out now is there? On the other hand this mad man will probably kill me anyway on principle alone because I am a thief. Therefore it is better to not tell him. It is better to redeem my soul, he thought. At least this way I will die an honorable death even though I did not live an honorable life. God will forgive me, maybe. He said a prayer and crossed himself.
But before he could say another word the Bandit General spoke up ‘I promise you that if you tell me where the treasure is, I will spare you. For I am a man of my word am I not? I told the priest and the peasant here that I would kill them if they did not tell me and when they didn’t, I kept my word and killed them didn’t I? So I will keep my word and free you if you tell me. After all that is only logical now isn’t it?”
Somehow that kind of convoluted thinking hit home with Paco for that is how his muddled brain worked. So he decided to give it up. “I will tell you where the treasure is,” he volunteered, sure now that his life would be spared, “if you promise not to kill me.”
“I promise. I promise. I promise,” promised the excited Bandit General.
So he told him the treasure chest was buried in the corn crib on Pablo’s farm and led him to it. But when they got there the five foot pile of corn had shrunk some. Now it was only about three feet high, not five. That was because the Bandit General’s troops had taken some of the corn to feed their horses. Paco panicked, crossed himself, tilted his head heavenward, and prayed to God for deliverance. The Bandit General saw all this and said, “I hope you are not lying to me Paco for if the treasure isn’t here, we will return to the grave that I have dug for you. Now go in there and get me the treasure chest.”
Paco went into the crib and began digging through the corn with his hands. Thank God the chest was still there. They had buried it deep enough.
“Well Paco God has spared you and therefore so shall I. For as said I am a man of my word am I not? You are free to go. So go now before I change my mind and decide to kill you.”
Paco scurried like the rat he was from the corn crib and out of sight into the world of underbrush, mesquite, and cacti. But then he stopped after going a short distance and watched as the Bandit General hoisted the chest upon his shoulders, for he was a big strong ox of a man, and walked away with it.
Paco followed the Bandit General, unobserved of course, back to the faux graveyard. There he saw the Bandit General bury the treasure in what was to have been his grave, put a cross on it, and leave. Sometimes a Bandit General will dirty his hands and do physical labor when it is in his own best interests to do so.
The Bandit General’s plan was to come back for it later, when it was safe to do so, and claim it for himself and not The Glorious Revolution.
Paco was thinking the same thing. That he would come back later and claim it for himself. He was already counting his money as he quietly slipped away and disappeared into the desert night with a smirky smile upon his haggard face.
Come morning the Bandit General and his men left. The Federales were only but a mile away. His men were either too drunk or too hungover to put up much of a fight and they knew it. But the truth of the matter was that his men were cowards.
By noon the Federales were in the village. They found Padre Puebla and freed him. He returned to his church. A little later they found Pablo and freed him too. He took off for his daughters and when he got to the church the first thing he saw was Padre Puebla. His jaw dropped.
“I thought you were dead Father. I saw your grave. Have you risen from the dead like Lazarus?”
Padre Puebla laughed and assured him that yes he was alive and that no he had not risen from the dead.
Then Pablo told him what the Bandit General had told him and that he pointed out his grave to him.
Then Pablo’s daughters upon hearing their father’s voice came out of hiding and there was a tearful and joyful family reunion. Finally after a while Padre Puebla said, “Pablo let us go now and see this grave where I am supposed to be buried for if there is a soul buried there, it is my duty as a priest to say a few words over him.”
So Pablo kissed his daughters good bye and they went back into hiding for Federales were known to commit atrocities too.
When they got there to Pablo’s surprise there were three graves now, not one. Pablo pointed to the first grave and said, “There that is where the Bandit General said you were buried Father. He said he killed you because you would not tell him where the treasure was.”
“He was just trying to scare you, my son. That’s all. This first grave is probably the grave of some poor soul he had killed for God knows what reasons.”
“But what about the middle one?”
“The same except the middle one was probably to scare Paco into thinking he had killed both of us.”
“Then the third grave is Paco’s grave Father?”
“I am afraid so my son, for I have not seen him since the Federales got here. Go get a shovel so you can dig him up and then I will see that he receives a proper church burial in hallowed ground for if there ever was a soul in need of a proper church burial, it is our Paco.”
“Just one shovel Father?”
“Yes, my son. I have a bad back and shoveling would only make it worse.”
So Pablo left and came back with a shovel. He dug and dug the grave he believed to be Paco’s until he hit paydirt, the church’s treasure.
“The Lord moves in mysterious ways sometimes now doesn’t He my son,” smiled the priest grabbing the shovel from Pablo, cracking open the chest with it, and finding the church’s treasure intact.
“Yes He does,” said Pablo. “Now if He will only tell us where Paco is.”
“Well get busy digging then,” commanded Padre Puebla. “Maybe he is in the middle grave.”
“Yes Father.”
Pablo shoveled away the loose dirt on top of the middle grave but when he came to the hard compacted undug earth underneath it, he realized there was no grave there.
“Try the other one,” ordered Padre Puebla.
Pablo did and found the same thing again.
“Now what?” asked Pablo.
“Don’t worry my son. I am sure Paco is alive and well and long gone by now. The Federales probably have an arrest warrant out for him. He will come out of hiding when the coast is clear when the Federales are gone. Just you wait and see. The Lord will bring our Paco back to us.”
But the Lord did not bring their Paco back. The lure of the treasure did. After three days and nights in the desert Paco came back to life. He saw that the Federales had left the village after they had stripped it, in the name of The Glorious Republic, of anything of value left by the Bandit General. So he stole a cart, a donkey, and a shovel and returned like the thief in the night that he was to to the faux grave yard to claim the treasure, not for himself but for the Lord, and return it to Padre Puebla. Return it to redeem himself, to save his soul , for Paco felt guilty about having betrayed the Lord and giving up His treasure. For after all he had given his word now hadn’t he? There is honor among thieves now isn’t there? But when he got there, lo and behold, he found that his grave had already been robbed. He stared into the empty black hole and cursed himself for not getting there in time.
“Please forgive me Lord,” said Paco, “I shouldn’t have waited so long. The Bandit General has gotten it after all. I have failed You Lord. Oh well I will make it right Lord,” said Paco refocusing. “I will do a thousand and one penances now.” And he left and returned the cart, the donkey, and the shovel back to the place from which he had stolen them. The first of his thousand and one penances.
The Bandit General never did get back to retrieve the treasure. He was in such a hurry to leave the village before the Federales got there that he didn’t have the time to dig it up. He figured he’d come back and get it later. But the Federales got to him first. Didn’t even line him up against The Wall, blind fold him, or offer him a cigarette. Though they did have him dig his own grave first. And no matter how hard he pleaded with the Federale General to spare his life in exchange for a fortune in gold and silver buried in a place known only but to him, the Federale General did not bite. He had heard all that many a time before. All that went in one ear and out the other of the Federale General. Just like the bullet that went in one ear and out the other of the Bandit General.
Author is a retired attorney who started writing for something to do in his rusting years.