Lynae burst through the apartment door with Brent close on her heels. "Guess what!”, they both shouted.. "Mom’s taking us to the Shakespeare festival in Cedar City. We get to go for the whole week-end. Our English class has been reading Shakespeare’s play, Romeo and Juliet, and we’re going to get to see it live on stage. Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"
"I'm right behind you, fair Juliet. Let's watch the video again so we know the story line."
"This new version is too weird, but I kind of like it.”
“It makes Verona and the families seem all modern and today. It kind of brings it into the present without changing the story.”
Dragging suitcases and a backpack from the car in Cedar City, they watched as costumed actors handed out event flyers. Lynae began to imagine how Brent would look in tight pants and a frilly jacket, and herself as the beautiful young Juliet. Exploring behind the scenes on a tour of the sets, Brent and Lynae stepped out onto the stage as if to perform the play themselves. As the stage curtains opened, where the Montigues and Capulets should have been standing were the Armijos, the Bacas and other people of Santa Fé during the summer of 1733.
"Psst -- Brent! What have you done? We're not in Verona; we're back in Santa Fé. Look at the Sangre Cristo Mountains. There's no mistaking those mountains for anywhere else.”
The narrator began to introduce the play:[1]
In the summer of 1733 young Manuel Armijo and Francisca Baca of Santa Fé fell madly in love with each other. But her father, Captain Antonio Baca, disapproved most vehemently. He even threatened to run Manuel through with his sword if the youngsters continued seeing each other. Undaunted the youth sought legal aid from the church authorities and as a consequence the entire high society connected with church and state became seriously involved.
Brent stared. He decided he would never be able to take this time travel business for granted. "The plaza looks almost the same as it did last time. There's the Palace of the Governors, only it looks like Governor Domingo Bustamante is in charge of the Kingdom of New Mexico like the Prince of Verona, and there is his nephew, Vicar José Bustamante, who also lives at the Palace.”
As Brent and Lynae walked out onto the stage, the audience vanished and the other three sides of the Plaza materialized. These sides made up the more important citizens' residences, among them that Captain Antonio Baca and his wife María Aragon. The houses were built next to each other with portales or large windows across the front.
Up the main street to the east the Parroquía of San Francisco rose high and adobe-clean against the mountain backdrop as the town's most imposing structure.[2]
"Brent, they've finished the Parroquía -- it is really beautiful! And look at little Francisca Baca. She has also grown so beautiful. Too bad all these beautiful girls are related, huh, Brent."
Brent stood by speechlessly blushing.
"Lynae, my friend. You see they have finished the Parroquía nearly sixteen years ago, near the time I was born. I have always imagined that it was built just for me as a celebration of my birth, and here I shall one day marry Manuel Amigo. Here with pomp and ceremony, flowers and bells chiming we will have the most beautiful Church wedding that ever was. ¡O! Here comes Manuel! You won't tell anyone that we are meeting here, Lynae, will you? We have to meet secretly because my parents do not approve of our love."
Brent and Lynae nodded their heads knowingly. After all, they wouldn't even be allowed to date at that age, much less be making plans to marry. "My parents have chosen another man for me to marry when it is time, but I am not in love with the other man. I have always loved Manuel and we are going to be married one day, here in the Parroquía.”
"I know about arranged marriages, but why won't your parents arrange the marriage to Manuel, if you love him and they want you to get married?" Brent asked Francisca.
“Uncle Duane says he is going to arrange my marriage to someone he picks especially for me.” Lynae bragged, at the same time hoping Uncle Duane had been joking.
Francisca attempted to explain. "My family, the Baca's, have been well to do stockmen for generations. Our family came from Bernalillo but my father, Captain Antonio Baca, us to the Villa de Santa Fé some years ago when he become a prominent military leader and civic official. Our family is very close to the governor's. Besides, my father always boasts about being a direct descendant the first conquistadores who had settled the kingdom of New Mexico in 1598, and built the Villa de Santa Fé in 1610. His people had also helped reconquer the kingdom under Governor Vargas in 1693 after the terrible Pueblo Indian Revolt of 1680."
"Yes, that’s true", Brent and Lynae nodded, wide eyed. "We know about that part of our history. We were there."
Francisca ignored this slip of tongue and continued her story. My mother belonged to the wealthy and influential Ortíz family of the Villa."
"So, it’s like you are in a higher social class. I didn't know we were so important." Lynae said smugly, holding up her nose in the air in mock pridefulness.
"But with Manuel 's folks it is differe”nt." Francisca continued.
"His father, Vicente Armijo, holds neither military nor civic posts, and his house stands beyond the western outskirts of town in the barrrio of Alto del Rión, (a street and section along Santa Fé's mountain stream). Besides, the Armijo family only came to New Mexico about forty years ago, in 1695, well after Santa Fé was taken back from the Indians."
"And how would that make them any less important," Brent demanded defensively.
Francesca was not to be side-tracked. "What is still worse in my parents’ eyes, Manuel 's mother, María Apodaca, was half Indian and had no known father. She had been born in some pueblo after her mother was captured by the Indians in the Revolt of 1680."
"And your parents blame her for that? Let me tell you, that was no fun time for any of us! María was one of the lucky ones to even live through the war and captivity at all." Lynae blurted out.
Brent looked more puzzled than before. "But what about Manuel‘s Uncle, Antonio? He is the only surgeon in the Kingdom, and the Ortíz people generally can read and write better than some of the Bacas and other influential families. Doesn't that give them any status? Your parents can't just judge worthiness by where somebody lives and how long they've been in the state." But even as he spoke, they both realized that New Mexico was not yet a state and they could indeed, judge by any standards they chose, as with any age.
"It's kind of funny.” Brent said more in an aside to Lynae. “The Mexicans who are of 'pure Spanish heritage’, hold themselves above those with Indian mixed blood, and among the mixed heritage, they divide themselves according to who came with the early settlers and who didn't. But when more recent Indian blood gets mixed up in the genealogy it creates an even different class of people. My word, I guess there is something to prejudice people against one each other in every generation. The Montigues had their hang ups against the Capulets, and here its the Baca and Ortíz family versus the less wealthy Armijos from the wrong side of the river...”
"What’s worse," Francisca continued weeping, ignoring the side conversation, "is that my father has threatened to kill Manuel if he is caught seeing me again. You see, that is why we meet secretly here at the Parroquía.”
"He wouldn't really kill someone for dating his daughter, would he? He'd never get away with it! What could he plead not guilty by insanity?"
“I don’t know,” Brent whispered. “I understand Dad made some pretty big threats against some of the guys that dated our older sisters.”
"Everybody knows," Francisca corrected, "including Manuel Armijo, that my father could carry out his threat and possibly get away with it."
Lynae wondered privately if her dad would threaten so rashly if she began to date and talk about marriage when she barely turned fifteen.
Manuel appeared from the shadows suddenly. "Francisca, my love, I have nothing more to lose. My life is nothing without you at my side. I have been talking to the friar, the pastor at the Parroquía. Padre is afraid to go against your father because of his political importance and refuses to perform the wedding.
Beautiful Francisca began to cry again.
“No Francisca, don't cry any more.” Manuel said stroking the girl’s long brown hair. I have a plan. In spite of your father and the friar, we will be married soon! Even though he would not perform the ceremony padre gave me a good idea. He may be afraid of your father, but he is the only clergyman in the area. You know how the Franciscans resent the presence of Vicar Bustamante at the Palace. He is the official representative of the Bishop of Durángo in New Spain hundreds of miles away. So, anyway, Padre was happy to inform me of a rarely invoked, but very strict, Spanish law."
"How can an old law help us now. My father knows it is against the law to kill you, but I think he still will, regardless of the law,” Francisca, still not comforted, could not stop the tears that came.
"No, no, listen. According to this law, whenever parents refuse their consent to a marriage, the groom can make a formal complaint before two witnesses to the highest church authority. Then this high personage is obliged to sequester the bride in a neutral home for a stated period, to give her ample time to make up her own mind.”
“That would just give the parents and family time to talk her out of it.” Lynae said remembering all the times Mom had wished she could have talked the older siblings out of rushing into their marriages.
“No,” Manuel continued, “any interference by the parents or others would call for instant excommunication from the church. Even Vicar Bustamante can’t go against that law; your father wouldn't risk excommunication.”
"You mean they think that leaving me alone, separated from you, I will decide not to marry you -- come to my senses?!"
"Yes, but if you finally insist on the marriage, the wedding has to take place." Manuel stated triumphantly. “You won’t change your mind, will you, Francisca?” he begged, kneeling before her and taking her hand in his.
Brent muttered to Lynae, under his breath, “She looks as bad as you do when you’ve been crying.”

ACT TWO Romeo and Juliet

From the back ground music and changing lights, Brent and Lynae recognized the beginning of Act Two. The setting was again not Verona, but Santa Fé.
"Young man, you are trying to manipulate the church by referring to an ancient law that is never used in this modern day and age." Vicar Bustamante knew that he was being put on the spot when Manuel Armijo appeared before him with his two young friends from Albuquerque as his witnesses. Brent and Lynae stood tall and firmly at his side. Manuel had invited them along when his Santa Fé pals declined to help out of fear of political complications.
"It is only because I know it will anger the Viceroy in Mexico City if I refuse to act on the case. I know that the friars would waste no time in getting a report to Mexico." The Vicar himself admitted, even if he was the Lord Governor's immediate relative. And so, after vain haggling and many excuses, he promised to have Francisca Baca sequestered in a "neutral home," the house of don José Riáno who was a cousin of Governor Bustamante from the same countryside in Spain.
Lynae stayed with Francisca. “I can’t see that this is a very neutral home, in spite of the threat of excommunication,” Lynae reported to Brent on one of his visits. María Roybal, the lady of the house has a younger brother, Mateo who is engaged to Francisca's sister Gregoria.” She explained indicating by the shake of her head that it was another convoluted relationship. “And, you know how the residences on the plaza adjoin each other? It is so easy and tempting for the ladies from all the related families, like the Montoyas and Ortízes, to pester poor Francisca with their arguments night and day. I don’t think they even know about, or at least they don’t understand the seriousness of excommunication.”
Lynae watched in surprise as Francisca greeted her father with a big hug and friendly smile. "Papá everyone has pestered me day and night since I came here. I cannot stand the pressure anymore, so I will give up the love of my life and obey your will." Francisca appeared to be giving up on her plan to marry Manuel. Lynae stood open mouthed with shock, feeling helpless as she listened, but when she saw Francisca crossing fingers behind her back she made a mental note: “Boy, I guess that was a trick even back then to not feel guilty about telling a lie.”
So once out of her enforced isolation, Francisca began meeting her beloved in the dark recesses of the Parróquia, or else in the alameda of cottonwoods and mountain poplars along the villa's mountain stream.
Captain Baca discovered this treachery, but having come to realize that manslaughter would get him into trouble no matter what his political status, Baca decided to send his daughter away secretly, far from Santa Fé, to the great hacienda of his sister Josefa Baca.[3] It was located at Pajarito just south of Albuquerque, a two-day's ride by horse back from Santa Fé. One morning well before dawn, a sad Francisca Baca set out under an armed escort led by her brother-in-law, Antonia Montoya, husband to her sister Ynez.
“Brent,” Francisca begged, "you have to find Manuel and tell him to come to rescue me. Tell him I‘ve been kidnapped! Tell him I’m being held captive against my will!"
Brent promptly mounted a horse standing handily by and sped away to help rescue the fair Francisca. Along the King's Highway, west from the plaza along Agua Fria Street, past the suburb of Alto where Manuel was sleeping soundly, unaware of what was happening to Francisca.
By sunrise the group carrying the unwilling captive had turned more southward to La Cienega, and the over the high plateau of La Tetilla where the men rode cautiously watching for any sign of Apaches. “The Indians killed some sheepherder here just a few weeks ago.” Francisca sobbed, as Lynae tried to comfort her. "I hope the Apaches will attack and kill us too. They have been seen in the area."
"I don't think that would help, and anyway, I am a bit young to die, so let's hope for a different plan." Lynae answered, at the same time unconsciously held tightly to her own scalp, once again wondering about possible future consequences of such an event.
She watched the hillsides where the lonely herders called pastores wandered among their sheep. She thought about the bible references to shepherds and the Good Shepherd, and prayed for help and guidance on this journey, as she had on so many others. Knowing it was an important marriage, and that it was going to happen, she had a hard time making it into a crime that would ‘bring shame on the family.’ As she pondered the ethics of her actions, and the long term results of this entire adventure she fell into a dazed trance which helped numb her against the bumpy wagon seat as well as the slow movement of time.
Lynae spotted goats among the sheep and noticed one black goat among many white sheep. “Why are there black goats in among the sheep?” She asked one of the guards, more to take her mind off the long drive than out of interest in sheep.
“The pastores have only ten fingers to count. They can’t count more sheep than they have fingers. So they count as many sheep as they have fingers, and toss a black rock into a sack. When they have as many rocks as they have fingers, they have a group of one hundred sheep, and put in a black goat so they can keep count. The goats make good leaders, and step-mothers to nurse the orphan lambs. They’ll nurse a lamb right along with their own kids.”
“Was it that important to keep track of the number of sheep in a herd?” Lynae wondered aloud
“Well, both to the patrón and the pastore. Sheep are like money to the owners, and they make the pastores pay for any missing lamb. They have to skin the dead sheep, ears and all and take the pelt back to prove that the sheep had died and how.”[4]
After descending the plateau to the valley of the Río Grande, the party stopped at the Pueblo de Santo Domingo to eat, drink and rest before continuing on to Bernalillo.
"Oh, Lynae, I can't stand it. Not only have I been stolen from my love, but away from my home and family. Look it's getting dark, and I can't even look back on the beautiful Sierra of Santa Fé. It’s completely out of sight.” Francisca was wailing now. “Will I never be allowed again to see the big Parróquia where all my dreams of my wedding and my babies’ baptisms? Will I never see Manuel again?” Lynae was tempted to tell her the outcome of the story, but patiently petted her arm and told her things would be OK.
In the early morning sun as they continued the journey the next day Lynae pointed out the thrilling view of the great Sandía. “That view has always been so beautiful to me,” she gestured hoping to distract Francisca from her misery.
Francisca looked up and answered, “I always look for the first glimpse whenever my family comes down to visit my grandparents and relatives in Bernalillo. But today it gives me no comfort -- the sight only makes me feel even sadder. “
Lynae was beginning to wonder about Francisca; would she ever be happy again? Not even her relatives attempted to comfort her when the party stayed overnight at the paternal Baca hacienda, for they all concurred in saying that her father had done the right thing.

ACT Three Romeo and Juliet

As the caravan arrived at the enormous, prosperous hacienda at Pajarito, they caught a glimpse of, Doña Josefa Baca, elder sister of Captain Antonio Baca. She owned the property, but it was run by a number of ranch hands whose wives took care of the many household chores. She herself had several children, some older and some younger than her niece Francisca.
Lynae felt a little uncomfortable knowing that these children had all been born out of wedlock, but Josefa made no apology and seemed to be comfortable in her life-style choice. Lynae heard whispered gossip that doña Josefa was the secret mistress, or apparently, not-so-secret-mistress, of none other than Governor Domingo Bustamante himself! But this was purely family gossip. Although some of the priests like Father Morfí[5] of the time strongly proposed social reform among the New Mexico settlers, the community as a whole seemed comfortable with less rigid mores.
Several of doña Josefa Baca’s children are on our pedigree chart, Lynae,” Brent reminded her as they met the younger boys and girls in the family.
“She seems to be doing a fine job of single parenting. I guess she probably gets some help from the not so secret father.” Lynae judged. “She seems to be a very strong personality with ideas of her own,” she added. “I don’t think her brother in Santa Fé figured on her siding with romantic love instead of these who were so pious and class-conscious.” Lynae immediately began to like this aging ancestor, especially her attitude. They shared a rebellious streak, which seemed to run through the family for many generations. Finally someone to agree with her.
"Francisca, mi hija, don't worry. Don't cry anymore. You are here, and Tía Josefa will take care of you. ¡No te preocupas!” Josefa held Francisca close and petted her long brown hair. “Everything will come out all right, you will see." Her precious Auntie softly sang the words Lynae had sang so many times before: "Sana sana, colita de rana. Si no sanas hoy sanarás mañana."
Meanwhile, Brent had awakened Manuel, and rode back with him. "The feast of San Lorenzo is coming soon, on the tenth day of August." Lynae explained." I hope it is a bit less exciting than the tenth of August in 1680; I don't want to have to live through another Indian uprising." She suppressed an involuntary shudder of chill.
"The rebellion of Francisca and Manuel might go down in history as just as important, at least in our genealogy." Brent joked. “And just as bloody!” they said in unison, laughing nervously.
"Brent, Josefa is just like the Nurse in Shakespeare's version of this story. Doña Josefa Baca has gone to her parish church in Albuquerque to visit Fray Pedro Montano. She says he will not want to cross her, and he will welcome the opportunity to get even with the bishop's vicar in Santa Fé. I guess he is the friendly Friar Lawrence of Veronica!"
"Let me guess the next scene,” Lynae predicted, standing now in front of that first little church in Albuquerque on August 10,1733. Lynae was quick to appraise the plain front with no towers, but because it faced eastward toward the majestic Sandia Mountains she decided the view almost made up for the difference between it and the Parróquia.
Lynae and Brent stood together in the bare front, near the graveyard looking toward the rows of portaled buildings across the square. "Remember when we were here with Mom? There were trees and a gazebo here where we are standing.” Brent gestured to the bare dirt yard in a casual sounding attempt to cover his anticipation of the excitement that was about to come.
The festive mass in honor of San Lorenzo ended, and the people all began to push forward onto the big square. The musicians were starting to play, and hucksters of tamales and sopaipillas were shouting their wares.
"Oh, Brent, do you have any coins? We could buy some tamales -- I wonder if they are as good as the ones Mom makes at Christmas time."
"Maybe she inherited her tamale talent from one of these ancestors." Brent agreed, his mouth watering, as his heart began to feel a bit homesick.
"Let’s go inside the church,” Lynae urged. "Maybe we can get a good view.” Father Montano still in his red vestments was standing, waiting at the altar. Aunt Josefa and a beaming Francisca stood to one side, turning their expectant faces to the front entrance. From behind the open door Manuel Armijo with Brent and Lynae close by, stepped forward and walked toward the altar.
Before Lynae could even get excited, the friar heard the vows from Manuel and Francisca and pronounced them man and wife.
"Oh, Brent, it was all so beautiful, but not like Francisca had dreamed of. It was too fast, and she didn't have a beautiful gown, or flowers or even music."
"I bet Manuel was glad not to have to wear a tuxedo or boutonnière. I think this is the way any guy would want to have the wedding."
"Oh, Brent, always the romantic!" Lynae scoffed sarcastically.
Somehow the news filtered quickly back to the folks on the plaza, and they begin filling the front graveyard to congratulate the newly-weds. Women standing by quickly made bouquets from flowers they picked from some nearby gardens, and Lynae tossed handsfull of flower petals in the walkway where she expected the couple to walk.
But in place of the newly weds marching triumphantly to their carriage, Lynae turned in horror as she heard a scuffle and a loud murmur. The crowd parted to see two men take their measure with drawn swords. Captain Antonio Chávez, commander of the local garrison stepped into her view, then came another, Antonio Montoya from Santa Fé, Francisca's brother in law.
"Who is on whose side?” Lynae asked along with many other spectators.
“Oh, gosh," Brent murmured. “This is where everyone gets killed in Shakespeare’s play. We better stop it or we won't have any ancestors left to descend from."
“I'll try to stop Antonia Montoya. He’s looking very angry about the wedding. Lynae, you go with Tìa Josefa to intercept Captain Chávez. I have heard him described as a well-known ladies' man in the Río Abajo, but he is married to Antonia Baca, one of Aunt Josefa’s other nieces.”
“Brent, would you quit with the detailed gossip! This is not the time or the place!”
Brent started bellowing in his most commanding ROTC voice, telling people to stop the fight, and was fortunately able to encourage the townsmen to put a stop to the duel.
"Good work, brother. Because of you, there is no graveyard strewn with corpses as in Shakespeare's tragedy." Lynae hugged Brent.
"It’s a good thing we were here,” Brent sighed in relief. “Who would have stopped that fight if we hadn't come? It could have ended with everyone dead, including Manuel and Francisca."


Final Vows
Brent and Lynae returned two years later to watch as Manuel and Francisca moved back to Santa Fé," to have their wedding ceremony renewed in the great Parróquia with all the pomp of bell, book and candles that Francisca had dreamed about.
As for Romeo and Juliet themselves, we know that they had one daughter in 1748, while living in Nambe, but for lack of records we don't know what Armijos and other folks are directly descended from the pair. But as was mentioned at the start, most of the other characters in the drama are our own direct grandparents, from Governor Bustamante and the parents of both Romeo and Juliet to the dueling Captain Chávez. The rest are collateral ancestors.
All this is said here, not by way of boasting, but to show that, since we Hispanic New Mexicans are all cousins from far back, thousands of folds still living on the same stage with the beautiful Sangre de Cristo and Sandia mountains for a perennial backdrop, are in some way or another children of the original cast of New Mexico's Real Romeo and Juliet.
Lynae put down the Chavez article she was reading and sighed. "How romantic," as Brent mumbled something she couldn't understand.
"That was a fun trip to Cedar City," he added casually. "I'm glad we got to go together. You can be pretty fun sometimes." I hope we have more adventures together. I can’t believe how fun it is to get acquainted with our ancestors, who were just names in a box of papers before.
[1] Friar Angelico Chávez Much of this chapter is quotations and paraphrasing of this story by Chavez.
Chavez got his information and details from the existing document consisting of a compliant made by the Franciscan friar of Albuquerque against the bishop's vicar in Santa Fé.
The document of complaint was made against the bishop's vicar in Santa Fé for having broken a certain Spanish law regarding marriage, and of a countercharge against the friar for his having performed a wedding in spite of everything. Fray Angelico Chávez took the information from the court record and turned into a romantic story, telling history and why Manuel and Francisca were not allowed to marry, and why so many people in different levels of society had to get involved.
[2] it looked almost exactly like the present St. Francis auditorium of the museum of fine arts and it was only some sixteen years old at the time. "
[3]Romeo and Juliet; p 264, 144 Chaves Pedro Duran y Chaves married Juana Montoya on January 27, 1703.

Origins Josefa Baca


[4] Coronado p 95
[5] Coronado p 129