The man muttered: “So huge a world!” Then followed another harangue, essentially repeating what the black-robed man had said before the shooting began.
“I could better explain it,” said Tristan, “if your men had not slain our holy father. I myself have small knowledge of letters and history. But what have you done with my woman?”
“Woman? We have no captive women. There were a couple of female bodies in the woods behind your battle line. I suppose they were struck by our fire before all your redskins fled. What woman claim you to have had?”
“The daughter of a chief of the Nanipacana,” said he. “We fell in love and eloped.”
To straighten this out took further questions, since there be nought in Zhongguo exactly corresponding to these concepts, save perhaps in Li Po’s poetry. But, like Captain Tristan, I am no literary man, familiar with such things. Besides, the mating habits of barbarians afford endless amusement.
Tristan said that he and the woman had not only fled secretly, defying the wrath of the woman’s father, but had also caused the black-robed one to conduct a rite over their union, according to his customs rendering it permanent and unbreakable. I later learned that Tristan already had a wife somewhere, notwithstanding that Yuropians are supposed to be monogamous. But that is no affair of ours.
“Sir,” said Tristan, “could you let me have something to eat? We are all half-starved, for the Indians” (as the Espanyans ridiculously call the redskins, although these live halfway round the world from the true Indians) “along the route had fled, taking all their food supplies with them before we arrived. Those cabrones—”
Falaya could not translate that word, but questioning revealed that it meant a eunuch. Notwithstanding the high rank of the eunuchs of the Imperial Court, the term is a deadly insult among round-eyes.
Whilst this person was getting Captain Tristan’s meaning straightened out, a Hitchiti of my personal guard thrust his head into the tent. “O General!” he cried. “Our scouts report a large force of Nanipacana approaching, in full war paint.”
“Kwanyin save us!” I exclaimed, rising. “Sound the alarms!”
This time things went more smoothly despite the war paint. The new force was led by Chief Imathla, with whom I had had dealings and so knew personally. I had been trying to persuade him voluntarily to place himself under the protection of the Son of Heaven, to save us the necessity of conquering him. So, when Imathla thrust his spear into the ground and laid his skull-cracker beside it, I signaled him to advance.
When he and I returned to my headquarters tent, the round-eye Tristan still stood there, leaning on his walking stick and with his free hand hungrily gnawing an ear of maize. At the sight of him, Chief Imathla burst into a tirade. Had he had his weapons to hand, I would not have wagered a brass cash on Tristan’s life. The round-eye shouted back. When the polemics ran down, I said to Falaya: “Ask whether this speech refers to the chief’s daughter.”
At length Falaya reported: “He say aye, it does. This round-eye carry off his daughter, delight of his age, and chief set out in pursuit. When his war party near this place, they come upon daughter Mihilayo wandering, lost, in forest, with some Piachi whom Espanyans enslave and now flee back home. From her chief learn that round-eye and his men fight great general and lose. He say he happy to see scoundrel captive, and he know some excellent tortures to dispose of him.”
Tristan, to whom his own interpreter had been feeding a translation, visibly paled beneath his swarthy skin at the mention of torture. Then he squared his shoulders, raised his chin, and assumed an attitude of defiance, as captive redskin warriors are wont to do at the prospect of being burned alive by their foes. I could not help a twinge of admiration for his courage, barbarian though he was. He asked: “Where be she now?”
Imathla replied: “Know that she is safe under her father’s protection. Where that be is no affair of yours.”
“She is my lawful wedded wife! That is whose affair it be! Fetch her here!”
I suggested: “That might be a sensible thought, O Chief, to unravel this knot.”
“Never!” said Imathla. “You know not, O General, the depths of evil of these palefaces. Before they passed through our tribal lands, they had descended upon the Piachi tribe, whom they enslaved to furnish porters for their supplies. When some Piachi defied the palefaces’ commands, the invaders seized them, chopped off their hands and feet, and cast them out to die. Others they strung up by the hands and affixed weights to their feet until they expired, or forced water down their throats until they burst inside.”
“Why should they go to so much trouble? If one wishes to kill a man, it is quicker and easier to shoot him or chop off his head.”
“They have a passion for that pretty yellow metal that we get in ornaments by trade from other tribes. They would not believe that there were no hidden stores of this metal, and they thought that by such treatment they could force the Piachi to reveal its whereabouts. Of course the Piachi are not Nanipacana and so not real human beings, or we should have felt obliged to avenge them.
“Twenty years ago the accursed Ernando de Soto came through, treating those who gainsaid him in this same ferocious manner. He also brought strange diseases amongst the tribes, whereof over half of us perished. Had our towns been still fully populated, O General, you would not have found it so easy to pass amongst us unscathed.”
The round-eye was hopping up and down on his unwounded leg, indicating an eagerness to say his say. I told Falaya to give Tristan my permission. The barbarian shouted: “These savages are too stupid and ignorant to appreciate the benefits we offer! They refuse to understand that by accepting our religion they may live to serve us, as is only right for such lowly folk, in return for the boons we bestow. Then, after death, they shall enjoy an eternity of pleasures in Heaven, praising the true God.”
“Is that all you do in this Heaven?” I asked.
“What more is needed? We sit on clouds, play the arpa, and sing the praises of God.”
“Forever?”
“Aye, forever.”
This person commented: “Your Yuropian God must get bored with incessant flattery. Our gods are more rational; they are busy keeping records and otherwise carrying out their duties in the Heavenly bureaucracy.”
When this had been translated, Tristan gave a contemptuous snort. But he forbore to argue theology, for which I doubt whether either of us had enough book knowledge. I regretted that the bonze Xiao-jin was no longer with us, having set out to return to his monastery in civilization. He would have argued spiritual matters with the barbarian all day and all the following night. Tristan said: “I still demand my wife! I rescued her when two of my colonists would have raped her and then slain her for her golden earrings.”
“All the demands in the world will not get the poor thing,” said Chief Imathla. “She is well quit of you.”
“Then fetch her here and let her choose her own fate!” cried Tristan. “Ridiculous!” cried Imathla. Those twain began shouting again, until I roared them to silence. I said: “Come, honorable Chief, tell me: Is the woman where we can reach her?”
“She is under the protection of my personal guard,” growled Imathla.
“Well, am I to understand that you wish her to be happy?”
“Aye, O General. That is my dearest wish, since her mother died of one of those diseases these accursed palefaces brought into our land.”
“Then why not fetch her here, set the alternatives before her, and let her decide? If after that she be not happy, the fault will not be yours.”
Imathla growled a bit, but after further argument I talked him round. The fact that he was alone in my tent, with rifle-bearing Hitchiti standing by, may have influenced his decision.
So Imathla put his head out the tent and called to one of his warriors. After some converse in Nanipacana, the warrior set off at a run. Whilst we waited, I caused tea to be brewed and offered to our guests. Imathla drank his, while Tristan took a mou
thful, made a face, and returned the cup to the Hitchiti who had brought it.
At length the warrior returned, leading a young Nanipacana female. When she entered the tent, Tristan limped forward and seized her in an embrace. He performed that gesture of affection used by Yuropians and Arabs, of pressing the lips against the esteemed one.
Then Tristan placed his hands on the woman’s shoulders and held her at arm’s length. He said something sharply to her; she replied, and they argued. It sounded as if he were making some demand and she refusing. I asked Falaya for a translation.
“O General,” he said, “he say she must cover self; she say no cover, too hot.”
Mihilayo was clad in the normal garb of these southern redskins in hot weather, namely: naked save for a pair of golden earrings and reticular designs painted on her body and limbs. Yuropians, coming I suspect from a cooler climate, regard such exposure as improper.
A heated argument followed amongst the three: the woman Mihilayo, the round-eye Captain Tristan, and the Chieftain Imathla. Mihilayo and Imathla spake in Nanipacana, whilst Mihilayo and Tristan conversed in the tongue of Espanya, which she spake albeit somewhat brokenly. Tristan and Imathla, having no tongue in common, had to communicate through the interpreters.
At last Imathla said to me: “My daughter wishes to know if you, O General, need a wife.”
The question so surprised me that for a few heartbeats I was unable to reply. At last I said: “I have my Number One wife back at Fort Tai-ze. But she has long nagged me to take a second wife, to relieve her of some of the burdens of domesticity. Besides, she says that she is too old to enjoy the act of love any more, whereas I am still fully able. Suppose I did take Mihilayo as proposed; how would that sit with you?”
Imathla grinned. “I should deem it a splendid idea, giving me access to the General’s ear, and high standing amongst the tribes.”
“Does your daughter truly wish this?”
“She assures me that indeed she does.”
“How about that previous indissoluble marriage to Captain Tristan?”
“Oh, she says that is easy. His Yuropian mumbo-jumbo means nought to her. If there be any doubt on that score, the answer is simple. Slay him and make her a widow, free to wed whom she likes under any nation’s customs.”
According to what I hear, she was not quite correct, since it is said that in India they burn widows alive. A wasteful custom, I should say. But I saw no point in correcting the woman.
When Tristan’s interpreter had given him the gist of this dialogue, the round-eye uttered a scream of rage. Wrenching loose from his guards—for he was a powerful man—he limped forward, gripping his walking stick in both hands and raising it over his head. I know not whom he meant to bludgeon first: Mihilayo, Imathla, or me. Before he got within hitting distance, however, one of my guards fired his rifle at close range. With a howl of frustrated fury Tristan fell back on my Tang-dynasty rug, writhed a little, and fell still. He was dead from a bullet that entered his ribs below the heart, came out his back, and punched a hole in the canvas behind him.
I questioned Imathla about Nanipacana marriage customs. He told me that when a man and a woman moved into the same hut, that was deemed a marriage. There were none of the processions, music, gifts, fireworks, and so forth that solemnize a wedding in civilization. Imathla said in Nanipacana that he gave Mihilayo to me, and that was that.
Later I asked my new bride why she had chosen me in lieu of her round-eye lover. That, she said, was simple. When she saw the power that Captain Tristan commanded by his thunder sticks and his armor and weapons of this Yuropian metal, she decided that he would make a suitable spouse and protector of her and their children. When she observed that I commanded even greater power, by my superior thunder sticks and my well-trained army, she decided that I should be an even more effective protector. Besides, the union would confer honor on her family, clan, and tribe. She added that Tristan stank; although redskins, as a result of smearing their bodies with animal fats to protect themselves against insect bites, are also fairly rank.
Such a foresightedly practical outlook makes me hopeful of eventually raising the redskins to our level of civilization. About the emotional Yuropians I am more doubtful.
Now I am back in Fort Tai-ze with two wives. My Number One carped about my taking a Number Two whom she had never seen, let alone chosen for me; but that died down. A more vexing problem is acting as judge when the two women daily disagree over some detail of household management. Although Mihilayo is fast becoming fluent in the language of civilization, I fear she does not fully accept her position as subordinate to the Number One. She also tries to elicit from me more frequent lovemaking than is easy for a man of middle age.
On the other hand, ere we parted, Chief Imathla declared his allegiance to the Son of Heaven and placed the Nanipacana beneath our benevolent protection.
With this letter I shall send samples of the guns and armor of the round-eyes, to see whether they have features that might usefully be copied and improved upon by our makers of armaments. I doubt that this be the case; for in these techniques the men of Espanya seem to be about where we of Zhongguo were a century and a half ago.
I regret the death of Captain Tristan de Luna, fool though he was. Had he lived, I should have brought him back to Tai-ze. I should have questioned him about conditions in Yuropa and amongst the men of Espanya who have landed along the coasts of the Eastern Continent and begun to subdue and enslave the redskins. If he proved reticent, I have ample means to loosen his tongue.
But how typically barbarian to make such an unseemly fracas over so trivial a matter as affection for a woman! As I said at the start, their customs are strange, their beliefs outlandish, and their emotions childish. Let us thank the divine bureaucrats that we, at least, are truly civilized!
DESTINATION: INDIES
Brad Linaweaver
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE: In the previous installments Captain Christopher Columbus (a.k.a. Cristoforo Colombo) studied quantum theology, advanced geographical theory, and the art of how to make friends and influence potentates. At the court of Ferdinand and Isabella he faced much treachery and intrigue. The Dark Duke tried to frame our stalwart hero as an agent of the Turks, sent to divert precious resources from military necessities into mad voyages. But Columbus saved the day by proving that the Dark Duke had financial interests in the Canary Islands that would be put in jeopardy should a westward route to the Indies be discovered. In his rage the Dark Duke kidnapped our hero’s lovely girlfriend at court, but Columbus was able to rescue her with the aid of Poncho, his trusty sidekick, and a highly complicated bit of trickery involving five different kinds of cheeses and a ship’s compass.
Granted one last opportunity to make his case at court, Columbus eschewed his scientific and economic arguments for global access and the tendency of gold and spices to accumulate when traveling westerly along a particular latitude. This time he directed his appeal to the queen’s heart, pointing out that the future promised greater things than temporary victories over the Moors, the burning of random heretics, and the expulsion or conversion of Jews. With a new route to Asia and storehouses bulging with gold, Spain could reclaim holy Jerusalem with a surprise attack from the east!
A final masterstroke was the manner in which Columbus forever destroyed the Dark Duke’s credibility by suggesting the man might be a secret agent working for the French, the English, the Portuguese, the Moors, the Knights of Malta (but at least not the Knights of Columbus) … and that maybe the man was a practicing Satanist as well. The queen was so thrilled with this presentation that she offered to hock the royal jewels to help finance Columbus’s mission, but he cannily suggested that liquidating the Dark Duke’s holdings would produce a sufficiency of funds.
Meanwhile the Dark Duke had finished reporting to the French, the English, the Portuguese, the Moors, the Knights of Malta … and had used microdemonic engineering to create his own ship for the exploration of Water Space. Realizi
ng that he must keep out of sight during the voyage, he decided to make his craft fully submersible so that he can follow his enemies without being sighted … until the time is right for him to strike!
The Santa María, Pinta, and Niña are launched from Palos on August 3, 1492. Admiral Columbus is aboard the Santa María. Identical twins, Martin Alonso Pinzón and Vincente Yáñez Pinzón, command the Pinta and Niña respectively. There is only one mishap on the voyage to the Canary Islands, the last outlying post of Spanish territory. A saboteur is found trying to damage the Pinta’s rudder. Short work is made of him. Then it’s on to the islands and last preparations before the dangerous part.
After a torrid affair with the island’s female governor, the lovely Donna Beatrice (who bears a startling resemblance to the girlfriend he left behind in Spain), Columbus is ready for anything. Three ships and ninety men challenge the deepest, darkest depths of the Unknown.
Meanwhile the Dark Duke and his handpicked crew of cannibals, child molesters, and heretics rescued from the Inquisition follows in the wake of his enemies. We resume our tale with the log being kept by Poncho, the loyal sidekick.
Chapter CVII
“It is late in the day, and gray clouds sail across the sky, moving low, hazarding the reef that is the sturdy mast of our ship. After a sea of faces at court, bobbing up and down on the tidal movements of fear and greed, how our brave leader must prefer the real elements of sea and sky.”
The admiral leaned over my shoulder and told me that the previous paragraph is all right, but not nearly purple enough. I imagined that he wanted me to more fully describe the multicolored hues that swirled about the prow of our good craft as we surged ever onward into the receptive waves that mark the shimmering surface of Water Space.
Ever since I graduated from Saint Pedro’s Academy for Loyal Sidekicks, I’ve been driven to prove myself. That the admiral would choose me for such an important mission left me speechless … almost. I knew that he kept his own log; but his suggestion that someone else should keep a log so that there would be a more objective record of our adventures thrilled me more than words can say. Why, I worship the very planks that man trods upon and I wasn’t about to let him down. If it’s objectivity he wants, it’s objectivity he’ll get, by all the saints.
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