by Eric Black
The Morning Star feigned anger but inside he continued to smile. Secretly, he had always liked Daniel’s spirit. But that would not keep him from killing Daniel when the time arrived. “Shall we fight or will you continue to wail as your mother did when the Romans ravished her?” the Morning Star asked.
The two continued back and forth for quite some time. As they did, the others watched in amusement.
Several times the insults became very personal and those present thought that battle was imminent. It came very close when the Morning Star referred to Eduardo as Juan’s toy that he bent over in the evenings.
Finally, terms were reached and the two parties went back to their armies. It was agreed that they would meet for combat as the sun rose on the Ma'adim Vallis of Mars.
“Baraqiel!” the Morning Star called out and the giant angel came forward. “They think we’re fools. They’re stalling. There are two men: Juan Ponce de Leon and Diego Columbus. You will go to them and you will kill them. Once they’re dead, there is nothing anyone else can do. We’ll be free to rule creation.”
Baraqiel nodded and vanished.
CHAPTER THIRTY
As they walked, Juan’s mind went back many years. Perhaps it was the nostalgia of it all.
He thought on his twelfth day in the newly discovered land, the island he had only recently named La Florida. They discovered footprints and as Juan was studying the prints, he heard a scream to his left.
He drew his sword and turned to see the leg of Ramirez, the eldest member of his crew, drenched in blood amid a protruding tibia. Juan ran to Ramirez and saw the leg was caught in a trap.
He was concerned. They had seen no signs of people outside of the footprints, yet someone had set the trap.
Juan surveyed the woods and had the feeling they were being watched. He saw no one and so turned his attention back to Ramirez.
The trap was removed and the bone reset and splinted. Ramirez cried out as the bone was pressed back into the gash and Juan continued to survey their surroundings anxiously. If their presence was unknown before, it certainly was now.
With the leg set, Juan praised Ramirez’s resilience in not passing out from the pain. The old man smiled weakly before passing out.
They built a stretcher and Juan walked next to Ramirez as they continued on. Every time the stretcher was jarred, the old man’s eyes flew open in excruciating pain. He had drunk half a bottle of rum but it only served to get him drunk, not deaden his agony.
“You’ll do anything to avoid work,” Juan joked.
Ramirez attempted to say something back but instead turned his head to the side and passed out again.
They finally made their way back to the beach where the ships were moored. They were weary and everyone looked forward to a hot meal on board their own ship. Instead, they looked to the seas in horror as their ships lay blackened in the bay.
The Santa Maria was scorched from fire, its burnt sails hanging in tatters. The San Cristobal was sunk completely with only its masts seen above the water. The hull of the Santiago was scarred from axe blows but was fortunately still afloat and seemed intact.
The ships, originally anchored a half mile out were now less than one hundred yards from the shore. They watched as a rowboat was set from the Santiago and approached the beach.
Juan ran to meet the rowboat as it landed and saw a grimed faced Eduardo at its head. “What happened?” he demanded.
“We were attacked by natives.”
The answer surprised Juan but also roused his curiosity. They had been on La Florida for two weeks and had seen no one; but it was obvious from the trap that had injured Ramirez that the island was inhabited.
“We were approached by man – a Taino who spoke Spanish.”
“Spanish?”
“Aye, sir. But he was definitely a Taino.”
“How can you be sure?” Juan asked.
“I know the Taino, sir.”
Juan assessed Eduardo. He was very tall, well over six feet. He was dark complexioned, dark eyed and had a large scar that ran down the left side of his face from the hairline of his dark hair to his chin. Juan nodded for Eduardo to continue.
“This man claimed he came on behalf of his High Chief who he said would like to meet with us. We agreed and waited.
“An hour later, twenty canoes came from the north. They attacked but,” he nodded at the ships, “we were able to repel them. We killed a slew of the bastards and captured three.”
“Who ordered the ships brought closer to shore?” Juan asked.
“I did, sir.”
As second in command of the flagship, Eduardo had been left in charge.
“They were ordered brought in on the third day for minor repairs,” Eduardo continued. “Then, the natives came back. There were more canoes than we could count. I ordered all men to the Santiago.
“First, they attacked with arrows. Then, they used axes to cut away at the Santiago but the hull was too thick. They climbed up the anchor line to the San Cristobal and they must have found the crates of lantern oil and used those to burn the ship.
“We pulled the anchor on the Santiago and backed away from the other ships. They lit the Santa Maria but the fire, other than scorching the ship and burning the sails did little damage to the hull. The hull is sound.”
Juan nodded; at least some good news.
“Finally we killed enough of them and they withdrew. If they are anything like the Taino, they believe in magic. I think they believed their magic was bad and they stopped attacking.”
Juan gave a half-hearted smile. “You did well, Eduardo. How many of our men are dead?”
“Of our thirty, sir, nineteen dead.”
“Nineteen?” Juan repeated, astounded. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved that only nineteen men were killed or shocked by the reduction of his army by that number.
“There’s more, sir,” Eduardo added.
“More?”
“Aye. One of the nineteen was Avispa.”
Juan cursed the thought of losing a warrior such as Avispa (the soldier’s real name was Hernando but he was called Avispa which mean wasp).
“He suffered an arrow to the chest but he didn’t die right away. He fought until the battle was over before collapsing. He called for me. As he died, he spoke one word.” Eduardo paused before speaking the one word, “Columbus.”
Diego and Juan were connected in many ways. As such, he could sense the thoughts that momentarily consumed Juan. He knew Juan was thinking of their sorted past.
Diego had discovered the fabled island of Bimini because of the man Avispa.
Avispa had been involved in many skirmishes with the Taino in Cuba and word of his fighting skills reached Diego’s ears.
Juan also heard of the man’s prowess and approached him in the tavern. He offered him a flask of rum which the man accepted.
Juan questioned him about the sea and found he was also an experienced sailor, having worked on ships off the African coast. Juan told him of his upcoming expedition and offered him a position with the crew of his flagship. The only position unfilled, however, was in the galley. “If you can cook half as well as you fight, we’re in for a real treat.”
Avispa accepted.
Diego waited and watched outside of the tavern as Juan left. Juan was followed by a man who approached Diego and told him all he had overheard. Diego dropped a coin in his hand and entered the tavern. There, Avispa stood at a table.
Diego joined Avispa and offered him a flask of rum as well; only this rum was of finer quality than that of Juan. “I hear you are to sail with Juan Ponce de Leon?” Diego asked.
“Aye.” Avispa knew who Diego was and had no reason to lie to him.
“And I hear you are to work in the galley?”
“Aye.” He was curious of Diego’s intentions. “I do what I’m paid to do. It appears news travels fast.”
“It’s a small island. Now let me ask you – how would you like to triple your pay?”
“Triple?”
“Aye, triple. You will sail with Juan as you have been paid to do. All I ask is that you dump the empty rum crates into the sea. As you do, you will indicate the direction you sail by carving that information on the bottom of the crates before sending them overboard. For that you will accept Juan’s pay and I will also double that pay. Do we have a deal?”
Avispa considered. He was no fool. He wanted the money but also wanted to make sure he was not being short-sighted. Men did not pay that well if there was no risk involved.
In the end, he weighed through the options and found the arrangement agreeable. “We have an agreement.”
Two days after Juan set sail, Diego left in pursuit.
Juan and Diego came back from their thoughts as they neared the house of Solomon. The home was not overly ornate but absolute attention to detail created the impact. The intricate facets were observed in all aspects of the house including the surrounding lands. Each of the structures on those adjacent lands served a purpose and had been built to maximize that purpose.
Juan appreciated a fine home as he appreciated a fine ship. In fact, the home reminded him of his flagship, the Santiago.
He thought with sadness on how the ship had been sold to a merchant in Cuba who was thrilled to have such a prized and legendary ship among his possessions. The ship was sold again several times over the following years until finally a wealthy businessman had the ship decommissioned and broken apart. He then used the lumber to build his home and the home became a landmark destination to visitors to Cuba.
That home lasted several generations until it was ultimately destroyed by a hurricane and most of the lumber was washed to sea. The thought that the ship had been returned to the sea at the end gave the story a sort of silver lining.
They reached the doors of the house and Menelik motioned that they should follow him. Rehoboam went inside while Juan and Diego followed Menelik around the backside of the house and witnessed a magnificent garden. “My father had this built for my mother.”
They walked together through the garden and reached an open area where an altar had been fashioned. “You will wait here,” Menelik said, motioning to a bench on the fringe of the garden.
Menelik removed his sandals and carried the ibex to the altar. He knelt before the altar in prayer and when he was finished, pulled out two knives. He struck them together and a spark was sent into the bed of tinder that had been prepared within the altar. Menelik leaned forward and breathed gently and soon a small flame was lit.
Menelik prayed again, this time aloud.
More wood caught, feeding the flames which soon engulfed the ibex, sending smoke to the sky. The smell of burnt hair reached Juan and Diego first followed by the aroma of roasted meat.
They waited patiently for the ceremony to end that would guide the soul of Menelik’s mother to the afterlife. It took an hour for the ibex to be completely burnt in sacrifice and at the end of that hour, Menelik said one final prayer and left the smoldering altar.
With his sandals back on, he rose and acknowledged his guests. “Thank you for your patience. Now, you must be thirsty and hungry. Please come with me into my father’s house. We have fresh water, hard bread, and cheese.”
They entered the home and found Rehoboam waiting for them. He gave them a formal welcome to his father’s house as a sign of respect for his visitors. Once the formalities were completed, Rehoboam turned to his brother, “I have just met with father’s adviser. He informs me that the mourning is finished. Our father would like to meet with both of us after you have washed.”
Menelik nodded and turned to Juan and Diego. “You will excuse us?”
“Of course,” Juan replied, bowing respectfully as was the custom.
Menelik called for one of the servants to guide Juan and Diego to their room. “We will tell our father of your arrival and of your desire to speak to him.”
Juan thanked Menelik and then Diego and he followed the servant down several hallways to their room. They found the room simple yet filled with valuable items. Just as the house, the room was precisely decorated.
The servant closed the door behind him and they settled into the room, choosing to inhabit the chairs by the windows that overlooked the surrounding lands. Then, they began the wait that preceded being called by the King.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Solomon gave Juan and Diego a formal greeting to his home and then released them to the care of his sons as he turned to the details of his wife’s funeral. He promised them a place of honor in the feast to follow.
To pass the time, they shared contests of swordsmanship with Menelik and Rehoboam and were also permitted to enter the personal library of Solomon. Solomon’s home was peaceful and the wide lands gave opportunity for hunting.
One evening, as they were sitting in the quiet of Diego’s room, Diego asked Juan to finish his story of McKale.
Reflection entered Juan’s eyes as he began:
He had been riding nearly three hours and entered a narrow valley when he heard a noise off to his right. It could have been an echo but Juan wasn’t sure.
He dismounted behind a natural rock formation that was split down the center and made his position behind the rock. From the higher vantage point he had a clear view of his surroundings.
He didn’t want to take any chances. Just because he couldn’t die didn’t mean his horse couldn’t; he was in the wilderness and did not want to be left on foot.
He listened intently for several minutes but silence was sovereign. He began to move silently back to his horse when he was interrupted by a rustling to his left. He instinctively turned towards the sound but was stopped by a blade against his throat.
“You still move slowly,” Juan heard a familiar voice say.
The blade released from his neck and he knew who it was before he saw his face. “Adahy,” Juan smiled turning.
“It is I,” Adahy agreed.
“Adahy was from the line of Kosati, the scout who approached the village when I returned from the garden,” Juan reminded Diego before continuing:
“What are you doing here?” Juan asked.
“My name means Lives in the Woods, so why do you ask?” Adahy answered, gesturing at the surrounding trees.
Juan smiled. “I thought you went back east.”
“Perhaps my return east was exaggerated. Why would I follow you all the way here only to leave without speaking?”
“Why did you follow me?”
“There are tales from my grandfather of how you were old when he was young. Such an old man needs someone to watch out for him.”
“So you’re staying?”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to that poor excuse for land your government gave to my people.”
“Your village was discovered?”
“It was only a matter of time.”
Adahy had joined a renegade group of Cherokee that had hid in the mountains when the others were forced on the Trail of Tears. “So what are you doing out here?” Adahy asked.
“A friend of mine was killed by a man who was aiming for me.”
“And you’re looking for him?”
“In a way. The circumstances of the shooting unnerved the people of the town. They didn’t say it but they feel better with me no longer there.”
“Knowing you, I can understand people being unnerved. So now what?”
“I’ll continue along the trail. Are you coming with me?”
Adahy nodded. “You lead and I’ll follow.”
They were deep in the mountains and Adahy heard it first: the snapping of a twig. He turned towards the noise and as he did, a man stepped out from behind an adjacent boulder.
Four additional men showed themselves from atop a rock formation armed with rifles. Juan could have taken them but wasn’t willing to risk Adahy. Instead, he allowed the men to take their horses.
Juan and Adahy were bound and made to walk behind them.
For four d
ays they traveled, eventually moving out of the mountains and onto an open plain; Juan knew they had entered Mexico.
Finally, they reached a huddle of homes and Adahy counted at least forty men.
They were led to a small adobe structure that Juan recognized as a prison. Shoved inside, they were chained to the wall in a dimly lit cell. Juan knew they would be kept until they were either sold off as slaves or they died.
On the third day of their imprisonment, a new man was brought in among them. He was given the same treatment as them: he was stripped, beaten and chained naked to the wall.
The conditions were deplorable. They were forced to lie in their own feces and urine and at night, small scorpions crawled around the cell. Snakes often found their way inside. Adahy was bitten and the unclean wound had begun to fester.
“Why didn’t you escape?” Diego interrupted.
“Back then, I didn’t fully understood what I could do,” Juan explained. “Besides, something inside of me told to me wait.”
Juan continued:
The new man had obviously been in the wilderness for some time. His hair and beard were long and unkempt and he was deeply wrinkled as if he had spent his entire life under the abuse of the desert sun.
The man kept his head down for the first few days and Adahy thought perhaps the man had died. Then one morning, the man raised his head and looked directly at Juan, “You are different.”
Juan studied the man before replying. “Some say so. What do they call you?”
“They call me many things: crazy, insane. My name is Morgan and I am a Shaman. I was sent here to rescue you.”
“I don’t understand,” Adahy said. “Who would know that we’re here?”
“You know that you’re here,” Morgan answered. “Perhaps you are the one who called me.”
Adahy laughed tersely, “Perhaps you are all of those things they call you.”
“We should trust him,” Juan instructed.
Adahy was surprised. “You’re serious? We should trust this insane man?”
“I can see his spirit, which is very old. Much older than the man you see before you. This man was sent here to help us and we should listen to him. Look into his eyes and you’ll see what I say is true.”