The Requiem Collection: The Book of Jubilees, More Anger Than Sorrow & Calling Babel

by Eric Black

  “He does. He has told me of my son and you. And now, I would like to hear from you. Tell me of Diego.”

  Juan hesitated for a moment. “He’s your son, stubborn and hard-headed.”

  Christopher laughed at the truth of the statement.

  Juan looked at Christopher seriously, “He blames me for your death.”

  Christopher looked back at Juan just as serious. “I know.”

  Juan asked the question that had plagued him, “Why are you here?”

  Christopher started to speak, then stopped. After a moment he found his words. “When my wife died, I filled my time with exploring, hoping to fill the void. But no matter the number of new lands I discovered, the void remained.

  “Finally I found the fountain – quite by accident I assure you. Or maybe the fountain found me. Either way, I arrived in the village and when I saw the fountain, I felt alive for the first time since her funeral.

  “The fountain brought me here, just as it did you. I could have left several times but this place is so beautiful. I felt at peace here and so I stayed.

  “I should have been there for my son. He was crushed at word of my death. I should have gone to him, let him know that I was alive but I was selfish. And so, I stayed here.”

  Juan regarded Christopher. “Then let’s go find him and tell him.”

  Christopher sighed and knew Juan was right. “Aye,” he said quietly.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Eduardo owes me two pieces of gold,” Buono declared. “He bet me you were dead. I told him we weren’t that lucky.”

  Juan opened his eyes to familiar faces. At first he was disoriented and didn’t understand. Then, slowly he regained where he was and took in his surroundings. He focused on the face of his old friend and smiled.

  Next to Buono stood the two Calusa warriors. “I see the two of you survived the trip to Spain.”

  Antonio answered in Spanish, “Your cities there are very beautiful.”

  “You speak Spanish, now? Good.”

  He directed his gaze back to Buono. “When did you get back?”

  “We arrived in the village two months ago. It appears this valley is a sacred place to the Calusa and Antonio and Pedro led us here.”

  “Antonio and Pedro, then. Whom is who?”

  The two Calusa stepped forward and introduced themselves formally to Juan.

  Juan opened his mouth to reply to the two warriors when Buono’s words sank in. “Wait, how long did you say you’ve been here?”

  “We’ve been here two months.”

  Juan was confused. “That doesn’t add up. I was only in the garden one day.”

  “You’ve been gone over a year,” Buono answered seriously.

  “A year?” he laughed. Surely Buono was joking but he did not return the amusement.

  “But I traveled to the garden only yesterday,” Juan said dubiously.

  “It’s true,” said Christopher walking up with Abuelo.

  “Christopher, I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t entirely either but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

  There were many questions to ask but Abuelo had a more urgent matter to discuss. “There’s something you should know. Diego is leading the Calusa here.”

  “Diego? How does he know of this place?” Juan was surprised.

  “They’ll be here in a week,” confirmed Abuelo. “He comes with an army of five hundred warriors.”

  “Five hundred? How could he have gathered so many?” An experienced soldier, Juan immediately began to search his mind as to the strategies they would use in defense of an army of that size.

  “There’s more we have learned,” Eduardo offered. “La Florida is not an island. It’s a large land that spreads as far north and south as all of Europe and Africa. I can’t explain how but Abuelo has shown this to us. We’ve seen frozen lands to the north, deserts to the west and a far-stretching land to the south. The land south becomes jungles with lush beautiful vegetation and finally turns as frozen as the land to the north.”

  Juan was mesmerized by Eduardo’s words. “How can all this exist and yet no man has discovered such a large land?”

  Juan thought back to the Northmen tales of a wild land to the west. He had been an arrogant young man as he journeyed with Christopher to explore the so-called New World. How could a land already full of people be a New World?

  Spain had only cared about expanding its own empire. The truth was that Christopher and he were conquerors not explorers.

  And now Diego was coming as a conqueror.

  Everything happened quickly.

  The morning after Diego landed, his exploration party discovered a series of small caves five miles inland. Three men were ordered to explore the caves and gathered lanterns before approaching the first of the small fissures.

  There was a slight movement in the vegetation just outside the mouth of the caves; the three men drew their swords but their response was belated. From behind the surrounding trees, men armed with bows stepped forward.

  Diego’s men drew and charged but the bowed warriors cut them down. The remaining men looked to Diego. He did not sheath his sword but lowered it. Taking cue, the other men lowered theirs as well.

  For a moment, soldiers and warriors glared at each other, eyes occupied with hatred. Then, a commotion began among the warriors and slowly a divide developed in the horde. Diego watched as a man can forward.

  “Hello, Columbus,” the voice of the man sneered.

  Diego could not believe who he was discerning. He was looking at Diego Velazquez, his Governor in Cuba.

  “El Toro?” Diego asked, calling Velazquez by his soldier name. Diego had sent El Toro to Cuba to establish towns as well as make peace throughout the island. He had sailed with Diego’s father, Christopher on his second voyage to the New World.

  “Aye, El Toro.”

  “What are you doing here? I sent you to conquer the rebel Taino tribes in west Cuba,” Diego demanded.

  “Accomplished.”

  “Accomplished?”

  “Aye.”

  “And what on earth brought you to Bimini? How did you find this island?” Diego was incredulous.

  “I know of the island the same as you. You sent me to conquer the Taino and here they stand conquered,” El Toro replied, gesturing his hand at the warriors behind him.

  Diego took a second look. He observed that half of the warriors were indeed Taino. “And Cuba?” he asked.

  “Cortez governs in my absence.”

  “Cortez?” Diego was furious. “You’ll be hung for this.”

  El Toro gave Diego a slight smile, “Perhaps. But first, I’d like you to meet someone.” He turned his head and nodded and from the gap, another man walked forward.

  This man was naked and covered in blood. His hair stood in spikes stiff from red mud, crowned with white dust. His eyes were the wild eyes of the Spanish bear.

  Diego didn’t know whether to laugh or take offense as the man began to howl and jump up and down on one foot. Around his neck he wore a necklace of human finger bones that rattled against each other as he jumped.

  The other warriors and Taino watched reverently. Finally, he stopped and urinated on the ground. Then, he stood motionless for several minutes.

  Diego started to speak but El Toro shook his head. He watched as the man howled once more and then dropped to his hands and knees. He drew a large circle in the dirt before standing with his head lowered.

  From the same gap that El Toro and the wild man had come, a third man now came. His body was absent the blood adornment featured on the others; instead he was covered in white dust and naked except for a cloth made of human skin around his waist. He had a red circle painted on his forehead and he wore a necklace of boar tusks.

  He approached Diego and offered his hand. “Hola.”

  Diego started. “You speak Spanish?”

  “Yes, I do and very well. As do many of our men. I am Carlos. I am the High Chief
of the Calusa.”

  “Calusa?” Diego asked.

  “You have heard of us?”

  “I have heard the Taino speak of fierce Calusa warriors to the north.”

  Carlos nodded. “In our tongue, we are the fierce people. We are at your service Diego Columbus.”

  Diego looked at El Toro and El Toro smiled.

  Diego surveyed the land that they must cross. Before them was a green ocean of long grass and the wind blew waves across the emerald sea. Diego was wary of an ambush. Once he was satisfied, he ordered the final march to the village and saw that Juan was waiting for him.

  Juan stood in front of his men and would lead them in the onslaught. His men were hungry for battle.

  Christopher stood to the left of Juan. He saw his son but could not gain his son’s attention. To Juan’s other side stood Abuelo and behind the three men, Juan’s soldiers and the Men of Nod were fixed. Antonio and Pedro were among their numbers.

  The Calusa High Priest came forward and began his Dance of Death and the Calusa warriors began beating their spears rhythmically against the earth. He fell to the soil, writhing as if in pain before rising and urinating a circle on the ground. Satisfied, he walked back to the front line.

  Juan sensed the attack was imminent.

  They had spent the last several days preparing, building defenses. Trenches were dug around the village and filled with a mixture of petroleum and lantern oil. Across the river was perimeter of gunpowder and barrels of fire were lit inside of the village within bow reach.

  A vast earthen wall surrounded the village and was packed with buried spikes. These spikes were angled downward and placed a foot apart from each other in all directions across the sheer wall.

  Juan was a seasoned warrior and knew their best defense was not on open ground. They pulled back inside the village and piled logs in front of the single earthen entrance way to the village. The logs created a barricade eight foot high and six feet deep and it was a symbol that Juan and his men would not leave the village until the battle was over; either they would be victorious or they would die there.

  Juan waited until the sentry signaled that Diego’s warriors were on the southern bank of the river before commanding the release of the fire arrows. Soon, the sky was ablaze.

  Arrows slammed into the enemy lines and men died scorched and screaming as they fell to the ground. Several of the arrows reached the intended gunpowder. Explosions ensued, conveying bodies across the plain. Severed arms and legs burned on the dawning field of battle.

  The arrows were unrelenting and warriors continued to die. Many men were pushed from behind into the river by other warriors escaping the death that fell from the sky. Those men drowned, detained face down by marching feet in the shallow areas of the river.

  Despite the mayhem, Diego’s men were seasoned fighters and continued forward. They had brought rafts with them in anticipation and they were now being rowed towards the village. A shield wall protected the inhabitants across the front and top of the raft.

  Ropes were brought across and secured and the subsequent rafts used these ropes as tow lines to pull themselves across. Soon the river was breached and the first group of warriors reached the outer trench.

  Flaming arrows were shot into the trenches and the oil ignited. Men were roasted alive. They could not pull back from the trench because the warriors behind them pushed ever forward.

  Many of the flaming warriors ran up the embankment and were impaled on the buried spikes. The bodies began to pile up at the base of the wall and those bodies, accompanied with the flames and the river made the approach difficult.

  Warriors crossed the river up and down stream and approached the village from all sides. The arrows continued and the open plains on both sides of the river bellowed with flames. Gunpowder continued to explode. Finally, the wall was breached and the first of the warriors were inside the village.

  Juan and his men drew their swords. Steel clashed and bodies fell – normal reflections of the swords in sunlight was diminished by the thick smoke but blood poured nonetheless.

  A severed head landed a few feet from Buono as he propelled his sword into a warrior’s chest. He twisted the sword free from the dying body and turned to face his next foe. He was sodden in the blood of the enemy.

  Antonio and Pedro battled equally as fierce, fighting their tribesmen with no remorse.

  The men who had firearms fired their one shot before dropping their gun to draw a sword or using the gun as a club.

  Buono watched as a Calusa thrust his spear into the throat of one of their most seasoned fighters. The old soldier slumped to the ground and drowned in his own blood. Eduardo and Anton avenged his death by slaughtering the warrior. Eduardo took the warrior’s right arm with his sword and Anton drove his sword into the warrior’s stomach, twisting the sword and ripping it free. Eduardo kicked the man to the ground and stood on his chest as he drove his sword into the warrior’s screaming mouth.

  The village was shrouded with death.

  As the battle raged, Diego came over the earthen wall. With his sword drawn he surveyed the battle, looking for his target. In the middle of the village commons, Diego spied Juan. Now, he would have his revenge.

  Fighting next to Juan, however, was someone who quieted that rage. Next to Juan with sword drawn and covered in enemy blood, stood his father. Diego stared in disbelief. The shock was so much that he did not notice the arrow that came within inches of his head. He also failed to notice the High Chief who loped down the hill to the battle.

  The High Chief fought his way to the center of the battle and found himself next to Christopher. It was not until he was upon Christopher that Diego saw him. Diego watched as the High Chief leveled his spear but was helpless to stop him. “No!” he screamed.

  The scream was barely audible over the battle noise but Christopher heard his son’s voice and looked up. He saw his son and smiled. Then, the smile dissipated as a blood-soaked tip of a spear appeared from his stomach.

  Juan heard Diego’s exclamation. He looked up to Diego and followed his grief-stricken gaze. Juan had his back to Christopher and turned and saw the spike protruding from Christopher’s gut. The High Chief pulled the spear free and Christopher fell forward.

  Christopher was just another enemy to the High Chief; no one could have known what had just been set in motion.

  Diego tried to get to his father but the fighting was still too intense. Warriors still poured into the village. Juan and his men fought on but were pushed into a tight circle in the village commons. The enemy had them surrounded. Juan knew this was the end and vowed he would die a good death.

  At that moment, however, the Men of Nod cast down their spears and Abuelo stepped forward. He reached his hands out to the closest Taino warrior and touched him. Juan’s gasp portrayed his surprise as the warrior fell to the ground dead.

  The other Men of Nod joined him, each touching an enemy. Those enemies slumped to the ground lifeless.

  The Calusa fought back, driving spears into the chests of the Men of Nod. Juan waited for the screams but none come. The spears passed through the Men of Nod, leaving them untouched and Juan gaped amazed, crossing himself.

  His amazement was short-lived as a spear was thrust at his face. He ducked and drove his sword forward, striking the warrior in the throat and halfway removing his head.

  The Men of Nod continued to extend death with outstretched hands. They worked swiftly, making their way over the earthen wall and outside of the village. The plains around the village were still flaming but the Men of Nod walked through the fires unharmed. Where those plains once had grass, now there were only bodies.

  Then, suddenly the fighting stopped and Juan knew they were victorious.

  The Men of Nod left Diego untouched and he found his way to his father who was in poor condition. Diego fell to his knees and called for water to bathe the wounds. No one replied to the call but Diego did not notice. He had entered a world where only his fath
er and he existed.

  Christopher felt Diego’s presence and looked up at his son. “I bet I look terrible.” His voice was faint and his breathing was ragged.

  “You’re alive,” Diego said through tears.

  “I’m alive. You’ve become a man.” Christopher coughed as he spoke and blood colored his lips. He tried to say something else but the words would not come. Diego cradled his father’s head and listened to his tattered breathing.

  Juan order that they be left alone.

  Diego was not sure how long he held his father but just after the sun began to set, Christopher drew his last breath. Diego recognized his father’s death and wept into his father’s hair.

  The next morning, Christopher was buried in the village common. It was a funeral fit for the quality of man he was. Men prepared a feast for that evening in tribute of those who died. As the food was prepared, other funerals took place. Of the many soldiers buried that day, Buono and Anton were among them. So much loss.

  Antonio survived the battle but Pedro did not. Antonio prepared a funeral in the manner of the Calusa and Pedro was buried in honor next to Christopher.

  After the funerals, Juan showed Diego the fountain. No words were spoken but each man forgave the other. They had both lost so much that they could not bear to lose more. They sat in silence, watching the fountain until the sun lowered in the horizon.

  They rose to walk back to the village and Juan noticed a movement in the corner of his eye. He drew his sword but it was too late. He watched a spear appear from Diego’s stomach, bringing memories of Christopher’s mortal wound only the day before. The crimson tip withdrew and Diego fell to his knees. Behind Diego was a Calusa warrior and Juan knew he must have hidden in Abuelo’s hut.

  Juan’s rage made quick work of the Calusa and he fell to Diego’s side as the Calusa’s body fed the ground blood. Diego looked up at Juan and tried to speak but instead of words, blood formed.

  Juan did not notice Abuelo approach his side. He turned his head and was startled to see the old man. Abuelo studied Juan carefully before speaking, “He cannot live in this world.”