The Earthly Paradise

by C. S. Forester

  ‘What does she say?’ asked the Admiral.

  ‘She wants us to spare these people,’ explained his brother. ‘Anacaona, don’t be a fool.’

  Anacaona lifted a face slobbered with tears, her beautiful mouth all distorted. She was trying to talk Spanish, but Indian words tumbled from her lips as well.

  ‘She says some of these men are her brothers,’ went on Bartholomew. ‘She means cousins by that-it is the same word to them. But every Indian is everyone else’s cousin, thanks to their mothers’ habits.’

  Anacaona bowed her head in the dust before them, her shoulders shaking under the blue velvet, before she lifted face and hands again to beg for mercy. There was a low moaning from all round the square, through which could be heard the rattle of chains as one man after another was fastened to the stakes.

  ‘Can we not commute the punishment, as an act of grace, by virtue of the powers I hold for Their Highnesses?’ said the Admiral. ‘The dungeons, or the quarries? Would not that be sufficient.’

  ‘Does not your heart tell you it would not, Your Excellency?’ retorted the Dominican. ‘And I must remind you that not even Their Highnesses can interfere with an act of faith.’

  ‘Stop that noise, Anacaona,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Here, you two, here. Take this woman to my house and keep her there.’

  Two Spaniards of the guard beside the pavilion dragged Anacaona away. To every stake now a victim was chained, fourteen men and two women. Already the torch was being borne from pile to pile; the man who had screamed was still screaming-they could hear his chains rattle as he strove against them.

  ‘Laetabitur Justus cum viderit vindicatam,’ said the Dominican, solemnly. ‘The righteous shall rejoice when he seeth the vengeance.’

  That quotation from the Psalms had been given its full weight by St Thomas Aquinas, the greatest of Dominicans. But Rich thought that St Thomas must have given it too much weight--or else he himself was not of the just who could rejoice. Smoke was issuing from the piles of wood now; in one or two of them the sticks were already crackling and banging with the flames. Rich, looking against his will, saw one of the women try to move her feet away from the heat that burned them. He tore his glance away, staring up at the blue evening sky as he stood behind the Admiral’s chair. But he could not shut his nostrils to the stench that drifted to them, nor close his ears to the horrible sounds that filled the square. He felt faint and ill and oppressed with guilt. St Bernardino of Siena had pointed out that just as harmonious singing demands deep voices as well as high, so God’s harmony demands the bellowings of the damned to complete it. But these bellowings and screams caused him no pleasure, and even did very much the reverse. He feared lest his faith were shaken, lest his Christianity were unsound and this weakness of his should be a proof of it.

  He tried to tell himself of St Gregory’s comment upon a text of St Ambrose, pointing out that as St Peter cut off a man’s ear, which Christ restored, so must the Church smite off the ear of those who will not hear, for Christ to restore them. But his fiercest concentrations upon his authorities did not relieve his senses of the assaults made upon them, did not give strength to his weak legs nor solidity to his watery bowels. He feared for his soul.

  15

  Next morning Rich was desperately weary. There had been long debate the night before in the Adelantado’s house within the citadel walls-and even here they were not quite free from whiffs of stinking smoke from the square-while through the town the newly landed Spaniards rioted as if they had taken it by storm. One of Bernardo de Tarpia’s handgunmen had allowed his spirits to rise so high that he had twice let off his weapon to the peril of passers-by, sadly interrupting the anxious argument regarding the treason of Francisco Roldan. Nothing had been settled then; this morning the debate was to continue, and yet in the meanwhile he had not slept a moment, what with the strangeness of his new surroundings, the hideous events of the evening, and the plague of mosquitoes which had hung round him in a cloud all through the night--and Antonio Spallanzani, who had shared a leaf hut with him, had snored fantastically. Rich’s head ached and he felt numb and stupid as he made his way past the sentry at the citadel gate up to the governor’s house again.

  The debate began afresh, with all the Columbus clan present-the Admiral in his best clothes, and Bartholomew the Adelantado, and James, rather weak and foolish, and John Antony, more weak and foolish still. But hardly had the session opened when something happened to terminate it. The man who entered wore spurs which jingled as he strode in over the earthen floor; his face was yellow with fever-like most of the new faces Rich had seen lately-but he wore an expression of unruffled gravity. The Adelantado checked himself to hear what he had to say.

  ‘The Indians are in rebellion again, Your Excellency,’ he announced. ‘Seriously, this time.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In the Llanos. By tonight there’ll be twenty thousand of them at Soco.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘One of my Indian girls told me. I was the only Spaniard with a horse, so I left the others gathering at the fort and rode here through the night. At dawn five hundred or so tried to stop me at the ford, but they were too frightened of my horse, and I broke through. Were those Indians burned yesterday, Your Excellency?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That explains it, then. The rising depended on that, and the news has spread already.’

  ‘You are not speaking with proper deference. Don’t you recognize the Admiral here?’

  ‘Your pardon, Admiral,’ said the newcomer. ‘But I was trying to tell my news in the shortest way possible.’

  ‘What is your name?’ asked the Admiral.

  ‘Juan Ruiz, Excellency.’

  ‘I remember you now. Go on with what you have to say.’

  ‘I have said all that is necessary, Excellency. The Indians all have their sticks and stones. Some of those at the ford this morning were painted. They seem more bent on fighting than I have ever known them this last four years.’

  ‘Is this Roldan’s doing?’ asked James Columbus; the words were no sooner out of his mouth than he received an angry look from Bartholomew.

  ‘No,’ replied Ruiz.

  ‘Thank you. You may leave us now,’ said Bartholomew, and the moment Ruiz was out of the room he turned on James. ‘Will you never learn sense? Do you want the whole island to know we are afraid of Roldan? Over in the Vega Real how can he influence the Indians of the Llanos? You only open your mouth to utter idiocies.’

  James shrank abashed before his brother’s anger.

  ‘We must send at once,’ said the Admiral, ‘and pacify these poor wretches. I know they have grievances. I wish I could go myself-they would listen to me.’

  ‘Pacify them?’ asked Bartholomew.

  ‘That is what I said.’

  ‘Brother, leave the pacification to me. I will pacify them as they ought to be pacified. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. A sharp lesson is what they need.’

  ‘I know your sharp lessons, Bartholomew,’ said the Admiral, sadly.

  ‘By God,’ said Bartholomew, ‘I’m glad I have your two hundred men. Without them I would hardly have two hundred men to take out against them. If only the ships with the horses had come! I’ve barely fifty horses, and in those plains it’s horses we need.’

  ‘Bartholomew,’ said the Admiral. ‘I forbid you to be cruel. You must show them all the mercy possible.’

  ‘That is what I will do,’ said Bartholomew, grimly. ‘Brother, you are too good for this world. And supposing I did what you think you want? Supposing I encouraged them to think they can rebel against our authority with impunity? What would happen to the gold quota? How much cotton do you think they’d grow for us? What would you say then, brother? Who was it who was complaining at the shortage of gold only five minutes ago? Kind words won’t make these people work, as you know. Only the fear of death’ll do that-and even then half of ‘em prefer to die.’

  ‘I suppose
you’ve been promising them in Spain gold by the ton, as usual,’ put in James, taking the side of his younger brother against the elder, who sat shaken and helpless before the double attack.

  ‘I never expected my own brothers to turn against me,’ he said, pitifully.

  ‘We haven’t turned against you,’ snapped Bartholomew. ‘We’re doing your work for you. And there’s no time to lose unless we want the whole island in a blaze. We’ll march this afternoon. James, set the drums beating and the church bells ringing.’

  The room was in an immediate bustle. Bartholomew flung open the door and began to shout orders through it to the guard at the gate. The three Dominican friars-Brother Bernard who had supervised yesterday’s act of faith and the two who had just arrived-were whispering together in one corner.

  ‘Don Narciso,’ said the Admiral, and Rich went across to him. ‘You must go with my brother. With this cursed gout I can neither walk nor sit a horse. And there are so few I can trust.’

  Rich contemplated with some distaste the prospect of marching out with four hundred men to fight ten thousand painted savages.

  ‘I doubt if Don Bartholomew will welcome my presence,’ he said.

  ‘You must go. You must. Bartholomew told me last night he had a horse of mine in his stables. Bartholomew, I am giving Don Narciso my horse so that he can ride with you.’

  ‘Come if you like,’ said the Adelantado after a momentary grimace. ‘I’d rather put a man-at-arms on that horse. Have you armour as well as that long robe?’

  ‘I have,’ said Rich.

  Bartholomew was a man of action. It took him no more than two hours to assemble every European round, to select his expeditionary force and to detail the fifty men he was leaving behind to their duties as garrison. The few stores which had been brought up out of the ships he divided out among his army.

  ‘There’ll be food to be got in the villages,’ he explained, ‘but with savages to fight, the whole secret lies in being able to march without a halt and give them no time to rally.’

  Four hundred men marched out of San Domingo in the blazing heat of the day. Juan Ruiz rode ahead with six horsemen as an advanced guard in case of an ambush. Then came the long column of leather coats and dull armour, Bernardo de Tarpia with his handgunmen, and Moret’s crossbowmen, the spearmen and handgunmen led by Juan Antonio Columbus-four years in Espanola had made these last familiar with the island, even to the extent of calling it by its native name of Hayti-and forty sailors from the ships under Carvajal’s command, armed with pikes and swords. Bartholomew Columbus rode with forty horsemen, Cristobal Garcia and Rodrigo and Gonzalo Acevedo among them. Rich had his place with these, a little uneasy even astride the grey horse with which he had been provided, spiritless nag though it was.

  The sun roasted him in his half-armour, but he was determined to utter no complaint until his companion should, and they were full of high spirits at being mounted again and faced with the imminent prospect of action. On their right was the blue, blue sea, and on their left the high mountains, vivid green from base to summit, towering to the sky. Ahead of them lay a wide, rolling plain, stretching from the mountains to the sea, green and luxuriant, broken only here and there by thickets and woodland. There were herds of cattle to be seen here-in four years the few beasts brought by the second expedition had multiplied beyond all count-and scattered patches of cultivated land where the Indians grew their roots and their corn. This was the famous plain of the Llanos, which the Admiral had compared, in extent and fertility, with the valley of Guadalquivir.

  But at the moment there was not a soul to be seen, save the long column of Spaniards trudging along the faint track. Ruiz and his horsemen turned aside repeatedly to examine the hamlets which lay in sight, but each in turn was found to be deserted, and from each in turn rose the smoke of their burning as the torch was applied to the frail structures.

  ‘Where are these Indians?’ grumbled Avila. His visored helmet was at his saddlebow, his painted shield at his back, his long lance at his elbow, as if he was on his way to joust at a king’s court.

  ‘Perhaps you may see some,’ said the veteran Robion. ‘They may perhaps stand to fight here in the plains. They fight like sheep-you will be able to spike six of them at once on that skewer of yours. I doubt if they have learned even yet that they are safer from us in the mountains.’

  ‘They are not worthy enemies, then?’

  Robion gave a short harsh laugh.

  ‘Not worthy of a knight errant like you. They know nothing of war, nothing at all. One might as well fight with children.’

  ‘With children?’ broke in someone else. ‘A Spanish shepherd boy would be more dangerous than ten of their grown men. They had never fought in all their lives until we came among them--they didn’t know what fighting was!’

  ‘And I came here to gain honour!’ said Avila, drawing a fresh laugh from the old hands.

  Rich was pondering over what he had heard. In a land in which there was no tradition of violence at all, how long would it take to develop the art of war afresh? How long would it be before its people learned the axioms which even to a man of peace like himself were as natural as the air he breathed-the value of discipline and of order, the efficacy of surprise, the importance of a position. Why, he himself had read the foremost military treatise in history, Vegetius’ Epitoma rei militaris, and was conversant with the principles of war, even if he would not be able to put them into practice. The laughing, thoughtless people of the islands, who had never had even to avoid a flung stone or dodge a blow, would not learn them in a generation.

  ‘I expect they are all howling round the fort at Soco,’ said Robion. ‘Twice I’ve stood a siege like that. They howl until they are tired, and then you can go out and drive them back to work. But this is the first time I’ve ever known so many of them unite together, all the same.’

  They were filing over a ford now, and everybody eagerly slipped out of their saddles to drink from the dark water; Rich found himself, after two hours’ riding, already so stiff that he could hardly swing his leg over, but fortunately no one noticed. The column halted to rest in the shade along the banks, the sweating infantry lying stretched out flat with their weapons beside them until the Adelantado set the trumpet blowing to call them to their feet again. Rich scrambled somehow back into the saddle-he was already sore and his body shrank from contact with the harsh leather. By the end of the day he was in misery. The chatter went on unnoticed round him, blended with the squeaking of leather and the occasional ringing of hoofs or accoutrements. The final order to halt found him quite stupid with fatigue. He tried vainly to make some pretence to attending to the sorry grey horse, and experienced unfathomable relief and gratitude when Rodrigo Acevedo relieved him of the task unobtrusively.

  ‘I can’t thank you,’ was all Rich was able to say, white-faced.

  Ruiz and his companions had driven a small herd of cattle up to the encampment, and fires were lighted for roasting the meat. There was cheerful chatter round the fires, where the meat was roasted upon huge grids of green boughs-’barbecues’ or ‘boucans,’ strange Haytian words which the old-timers used naturally and at which the newcomers made tentative attempts with as realistic an appearance of habit as possible. No more than five sentries were necessary to protect the camp while the others slept.

  That had been a day of sunshine; the next was a day of rain, perpetual rain falling in torrents from a grey sky. It soaked everyone to the skin, finding its way remorselessly down inside the necks of leather coats and from there into the leather breeches, so that the horsemen had wet, squelching bags of water round their thighs. The men on foot sank to their ankles in the mud, the horses to their fetlocks. The little streams from the mountains became broad rivers bordered by knee-deep marsh; armour and weapons rusted almost perceptibly under their very eyes, and every man was daubed and streaked with mud. In those conditions not nearly so prolonged a march could be made as the Adelantado had wished-it had been his plan
to camp that night so near to Soco as to make it possible to surprise the besiegers at dawn. With ten miles of slippery ground and three water-courses still between his army and the fort the Adelantado was forced to give up the project.

  ‘But marching at dawn we shall be at Soco by noon,’ he said to the disgruntled group of hidalgos round him. ‘Time enough then for the lesson I want to teach them.’

  It rained until dawn, men and horses suffering miserably under the continued drenching, but with morning came a fiery sun which put new life into them-into all save a score or so of the earlier colonists who lay shuddering and with chattering teeth despite the heat. They were in the grip of malaria-everyone who lived long in the island went down with it in course of time, apparently, and exposure to wet and to night air was certain to bring on an attack. One of the shivering victims begged with blue lips to be left with his companions where they lay.

  ‘So that when we have gone the Indians can beat you to death with their clubs, I suppose,’ commented the Adelantado. ‘You could not raise a finger to stop them if they did. No. You must come with us. There are horses enough until we reach Soco.’

  So Rich completed the march on foot, leading the grey horse and with another man on the other side to help him keep one of the invalids in the saddle. Nor was he specially sorry, for two days of riding, even at foot pace, had rubbed his flesh raw. He trudged along with his sword tapping against his leg, while the sick man on his horse blasphemed wearily about the island and the Indians and the fate which had led him thither. Rich tried to make himself listen, because unguarded speech of this sort would be a valuable source of evidence for the report he would later have to make to His Highness, but it was hard to concentrate on the business with the imminent prospect of a battle before him. The handgunmen had their pieces loaded, and two of them had their matches smouldering whereby a light could quickly be given to their companions; the Adelantado was riding along the column reminding his subordinates of his orders for the line of battle. With every step he took, Rich knew that he was coming nearer to his first battlefield; it was a strange sensation. Once a false alarm ran down the column, and swords were drawn as they halted, but the mounted hidalgos reassured them and they plodded on.