The Knight´s Legacy

Trevelin

Logically she wondered to what extent one and other genes had arrived at Matías, who even although possessed a s****l verve that she had just discovered, was a generally introverted character, feature that Debbie attributed to his circumspect North Italian ancestors. The girl recognized her pair in Ayinhual, a mature woman, independent and daring, despite the limited horizon of experiences she had access to in her environment. Although Debbie did not know the details, the random circumstances in which Ayinhual was born had marked her temperament and personality. Debbie was in a stage of maturity in which she had begun to analyze the interactions between her parents in a more objective way, less personalized  and was now extending this experience to the beings that were of interest for her.

In one of the movements of Ayinhual inside the kitchen, the woman left exposed part of her neck and Debbie saw a dark spot in a diamond shape, similar to that she had discovered before in approximately the same place of Matías neck

“Ah! Yes, it is a brand that runs in my family.” answered Ayinhual to Debbie´s question. “ My father also had it so it is not a Mapuche trait but is originally European.”  Debbie could not help wondering if eventual Matías offspring would exhibit the same brand. “Really.” She thought. “It makes no difference.”

The next day the young couple and Claudio agreed to go to Trevelin, town near Esquel where José Llanquinao lived, cousin of Ayinhual who knew the origins of the family in the Mapuche reservation, and also had been close friend of Pedro Martiniuk, Ukrainian immigrant father of Ayinhual. Matías remembered José-  whom he called uncle- of his childhood.

After a tour through the village and neighboring farms, Debbie and Claudio remained with his family. Debbie was very well impressed by the Matías´ friend. It was physically similar to him but much more talkative. He gladly narrated the girl countless adventures that as children and teenagers they had shared in different town and rural environments. Then Claudio spoke about his own family.

“… . and my paternal grandmother, Berta, was Jewish. She was born in Poland and came to the country before the WWII. After the war she met my grandfather and Matías´ in Buenos Aires. For some problem that we have no knowledge of they were forced to leave the Capital, traveled to the South and ended up settling down in the Río n***o Valley. At that time women were scarce there, and it seems that my grandmother could choose boyfriend among several of the Italian fruit growers, and ended up selecting my grandfather Renzo...”

Meanwhile, José took the opportunity to speak alone with Matías.

“I haven´t seen you in a long while and I don't know when you will be back. There are things that I must tell you about your grandparents, which are just for your knowledge.”

The confidential tone of this expression captured immediately  the attention of the young man who had great questions about his mother's family, as in his childhood the subject had been subtly slipped by their elders.

José told a stunned and attentive Matías that his grandfather had not been Ukrainian, but a German official named Horstmann, participant of some kind of scientific research in Antarctica. In this regard and for unknown reasons  grandfather Horstmann-Martiniuk had been pursued first by his own countrymen, but also by English agents infiltrated in the Welsh community  in  the Province of Chubut.

“Finally, shortly before your mother was born and while your grandparents lived in a cabin in the mountains, several murderers came from Chile to kill him. He could escape for the participation of the men of the village but the clan Council decided that Pedro and Sayen had to go to Chile to make their pursuers lose their track.

“How come to Chile if from there they came to kill him?” Asked Matías.

“ But our clan is originally from Chile and still has many people and means there. It was also decided that your mother would stay with the family here because she was still a baby and they didn't want to expose her to the risks of the trip in the bad season in addition to the possibility that they were discovered on the journey. She was raised by your great-grandfather Llanquinao who gave her his surname.”

“ And my grandparents. What happened to them?”

“Never returned. For years we received some letters brought by travelers. We know that they had another child so that you have at least one uncle somewhere.”

“Then the letters stopped arriving.” José continued. “But there is one letter that I kept at the Pedro´s request to be handed to his male descendant who I judge most appropriate. And my decision is to give it to you to you.” He said getting up and momentarily disappearing behind the door.

Matías was overwhelmed by the news he had received. They actually filled a hole in his knowledge of his family, since his grandparents were never mentioned  before, and as a boy he had been deterred from asking questions.

José returned with a frayed beige envelope which showed no recipient, sender or seals and gave it to the young man.

“Read it afterwards, and be careful with whom you share it and where you keep it if you don´t chose to destroy it. In the wrong hands it can still be dangerous.” The warning, on the lips of a cautious and discreet man as José, was twice as worrying.

“Do you know what he says?” Asked Matías.

“Of course! On a second thought I hope that having given it to you that despite the distances I'll make you come back here.” Matías kept the letter inside his clothes in order to read it at the first time he had the necessary privacy.

The day in Trevelin concluded with an invitation of Matías all three to one of the typical Welsh tea Houses of the city. Debbie wondered what had caused the spending in the always so thrifty young man, but her curiosity was not satisfied.

The next day Debbie and Matías undertook the long journey back to Buenos Aires. Matías comforted himself thinking he had two thousand kilometers to tell the girl of his German military grandfather.

“Son of an Indian woman?” Asked Sara to her daughter pursing slightly her nose. “ Well, at least he does not look Indian.” She added as a sort of self-consolation.

“Well, not pure Indian in reality but a mixture of Mapuche and other things.” Replied the young woman. She did not want to tell her mother a Ukrainian lie and the truth in this case was not an option.

“As far as I could see his appearance resembles the family of his father.”  In other circumstances Debbie would had given all kinds of data, but life was teaching to  the philosophy student the advantages of ambiguity, at least in certain cases.

Sara paused a moment. She had already realized that there had been a shift in the way in which they dealt with each other. The mother had a negotiating nature but to her regret she admired the impulsive and spontaneous spirit of her daughter although she feared its excesses. On the one hand Sara wanted to tell Debbie her points of view but on the other hand she hated conflict, particularly the avoidable ones . While meditating Sara watched her daughter´s body language to determine her state of mind, and decide whether it was an opportune time to express her opinion on a sensitive subject.

“Tell me Debbie, Matías seems an intelligent and serious guy. But... is he what you really want? Is he not... cold, dull, a little opaque?”

Debbie looked at Sara, and for the first time in his life she wondered if her mother had ever felt some time in burning passion she had experienced on the journey to the South. She realized  that wondering that about her own mother meant taking a distance, a new objectivity and marked a milestone in her own life as a woman. This was a topic to consult with a psychologist but of course, Debbie could not ask Sara about it.