Chapter 46: The Plaza Incident

Carlos had spoken with the Alonzo and Lozano families. Their patriarchs weren’t home — apparently, they were handling business in Cartagena — so he only informed the families about the need for someone to oversee the factory in Bogotá and went on his way.After settling everything for the cement factory, Francisco had one last thing to do.

“I’m going to the plaza. Want to come with me?” he asked.

“Do you need to buy more things? Didn’t we get enough last time?” Catalina replied.

“It’s not for that. It’s about the smuggling deal,” said Francisco.

“Smuggling? Do you want to smuggle Roman cement to other countries?”

“Not exactly. It’s to bring immigrants into Antioquia. I told you — we need manpower. Only ten thousand people aren’t enough for what I want to do.”

“I know… but what does that have to do with smugglers?”

“Well, the Spanish Empire controls immigration. They don’t let people enter freely. So we need to work with smugglers. If I just bring people to Cartagena de Indias openly, I’d probably end up arrested — and the newcomers would be sold to the Portuguese as slaves.”

“Oh, so that’s the plan? Alright, let’s go,” said Catalina.

They headed to the plaza in Bogotá with a few servants. The air smelled of roasted corn and horse dung, the clamor of vendors mixing with church bells from the cathedral. Francisco scanned the square and noticed several soldiers on patrol.

“Let’s walk around the picota. We need to find the loose stone,” he said quietly after observing the area.

“Alright, you heard him,” Catalina told the servants. They circled the square until one of them accidentally stepped on the loose stone.

“Now we just need to wait for a gap between the guards to slip the letter under it,”Sweat prickled under his collar despite the mountain chill. He counted the soldiers’ steps, watching the rhythm of their patrol like a card player reading opponents. “I’ve got it. There are only two soldiers nearby. I’ll distract them while you hide the letter.”

“Are you sure there are only two?” Catalina asked, her voice tense.

“Use two servants as cover. Pretend something fell.”

Francisco walked up to the soldiers and said arrogantly, “Mr. Guard, I just lost my coin purse. Where should I report it?”

The soldiers exchanged wary looks. “Report?” one repeated, then they both laughed. “Sorry, sir, but if you lost it here, there’s nothing we can do. You can make a report if you want, but it’ll just make us keep a closer eye on thieves.”

Francisco’s face hardened. “You’re not going to do anything about a thief? Then why do I pay taxes?” he demanded.

The soldiers, seeing his fine clothes and servants, realized he was from a wealthy family. They groaned inwardly — another privileged brat to placate.

While they were distracted, Catalina pretended to trip and slipped the letter beneath the stone. She was just starting to relax when another guard, on patrol, spotted her.

She froze as the shadow of a patrolman stretched over her boots. The soldier’s boots scraped the cobblestones, the scent of sweat and iron filling the air.”What are you doing?” the soldier barked, eyeing Catalina and the servants suspiciously.

Catalina stammered, “We were just walking, sir.”

The guard’s expression twisted into something vile. “You’re acting suspicious. You’ll come with me to the cuartel.”

The servants tensed immediately, ready to defend her.

The soldier, annoyed by their posture, roared, “What do you think you’re doing? Defying Spanish soldiers is rebellion! Do you want to rebel?”

A small crowd began to gather. Francisco turned from the other guards and marched toward them A small physical sensation showing his rising anger — grounding emotion in the body. “Excuse me — are you trying to arrest my people?” he said loudly.

The soldier scowled. “Who are you?”

“I’m Francisco Gómez, of the Gómez family. I sent my servants to look for my coin purse. It seems a thief took it, so I asked them to check the ground while I spoke with your men.”

The soldier hesitated. He could sense Francisco’s status — high enough to make trouble. “Sorry, sir. They looked suspicious, that’s all.”

“I don’t care. Are you going to look for my coin purse, or are you only good at harassing servants?” Francisco shot back coldly.

“N-no, sir,” the soldier stammered, forcing a smile. “We’ll look into it right away.”

“I hope so,” Francisco said with indignation. “Otherwise, I’ll write to the Viceroyalty about how useless their soldiers are.” He took Catalina and the servants away. Only after they had walked some distance did they finally breathe again.

When they were far enough, Francisco saw Catalina’s frightened face and whispered, “I’m sorry for putting you in danger.”

“I was really scared… that man’s face was horrible,” she said, hugging him.

“I know. If not for the risk of drawing Spanish attention, I would’ve punched him,” Francisco muttered through clenched teeth.

“It’s better this way,” Catalina said softly, still trembling.

“Let’s go home. I doubt you want to stay outside after that.”

She nodded. Back at the house, Francisco let her rest on the sofa, then went straight to his father’s office.

Carlos saw him enter without knocking — something Francisco never did — and immediately frowned. “What happened?” he asked seriously.

“Those damn Spanish soldiers harassed Catalina,” Francisco said, his voice tight with anger.

“Calm down and tell me everything.”

Francisco explained everything: the plan to contact Óscar in Bogotá, the letter, and the soldiers’ behavior.

Carlos listened, frowning. “I see. Do you want me to report him?”

“If possible, yes. That bastard deserves to be sent back to Spain. I’d also like you to bribe his comrades to act as witnesses,” said Francisco.

Carlos blinked. “For a kid, you’re surprisingly ruthless,” he said, half amused.

“You don’t know how it felt — seeing that soldier’s face toward Catalina. It was disgusting and infuriating,” Francisco replied.

Carlos chuckled. “You’re angry about a corrupt soldier… while you were secretly sending letters to a liberal spy.”

Francisco froze. His father had a point. He looked embarrassed for a moment, then muttered, “Maybe I’m just a hypocrite.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll see what can be done about that soldier,” Carlos said with a sigh. “But don’t let Catalina go out alone again. She’s a beautiful young woman — but sadly, she’s a mestiza. Here in Bogotá, that still means second-class status. Discrimination runs deep here, more than in other regions.”

“Honestly, I just want to go back to Antioquia. If not for the need to find immigrants, I’d already be gone,” Francisco said, still tense.

“I know. Maybe things will get better in time,” Carlos said with a shrug.

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