by Paul Clayton
“Hey, cacique.”
It was No Neck. He and Born In Storm had moved back against the far wall of the hut. Calling Crow looked over at them. No Neck tilted the bottle up to his face. “Cacique, come and drink with us.”
“I do not want to drink,” said Calling Crow.
Then come and talk with us. Or is a cacique too high in rank to talk to ordinary men like us?”
They laughed.
Calling Crow said nothing. He did not feel superior to them, despite their bad manners, They were all the same here, all slaves.
Outside a dog began barking, then another. Soon every dog around the compound was barking and howling. Calling Crow and the other men listened in silence. It was someone attempting an escape. The heavy thud of Spanish boots passed the hut and the dogs began to quiet down.
Calling Crow went over and sat next to the two men. Neither said anything. Born In Storm held the bottle in front of Calling Crow’s face. Calling Crow was saddened that Born In Storm was drinking more. He had grown to like the thin man, and they had talked many times. But now he was coming more under the influence of No Neck and the wine.
“Tell us about your village, Calling Crow,” said Born In Storm.
“It is too painful to speak of it.”
No Neck laughed loudly and Born In Storm joined in.
Hearing their cold laughter saddened Calling Crow. He wondered about the wine’s effect on people. It made some of them weak and pitiful. It made others cruel and bad.
“Tell us about your people,” said No Neck. “Why did you run away and leave them?”
Calling Crow got to his feet. “You are both good men when you are wide awake. But now that you are drinking wine, you act crazy. If you were not so firmly in the wine’s embrace, I would pound you both to a pulp.”
Calling Crow walked back to his side of the hut. Little Bear continued chanting, unaware that there was anyone else in the hut. Calling Crow knew he must be deep inside the spirit world.
Someone grabbed Calling Crow from behind. Strong arms locked around his neck. As they pulled him backward, Calling Crow spun about and drove his elbow hard into his assailant’s face. In the flickering light, he saw blood streaming from No Neck’s nose as he staggered backward. Like a ghost, Born In Storm’s frail form rushed at Calling Crow. Calling Crow easily threw him onto the hard dirt floor where he cried out in pain.
Calling Crow waited for him to get to his feet, but he remained on the ground, moaning like a woman giving birth. Calling Crow heard a shriek as No Neck’s heavy form crashed into him, dragging him to the ground. Calling Crow saw a third figure moving silently in the flickering light and wondered if someone else had entered the hut to join in the attack on him. He saw that it was Little Bear. The Old man brought a clay jar full of water down on the back of No Neck’s head, shattering the jar like an egg and dousing him with water. No Neck collapsed in a heap beside Calling Crow.
Little Bear looked over at Born In Storm with cold fury. Born In Storm lowered his head and crept back to his side of the hut. Little Bear prodded No Neck with his foot. He did not move.
“It is the wine,” said Calling Crow. “They are not bad men.”
Little Bear nodded.
“Thank you for helping me,” said Calling Crow.
“I did not do it for you, but for No Neck,” said Little Bear. “He badly needed a bath.”
No Neck came to with a groan.
Little Bear looked down on him sternly. “You must replace that water for me before morning.” Saying nothing, No Neck staggered back over into the darkness on his side of the hut.
***
The singing of the birds in the trees at the edge of the huts awoke Calling Crow. As he listened, he thought that if they had not the ability to fly away from this place, they would not sing. He sat up in the feeble morning light and saw Little Bear sitting by the ashes of the night’s fire. No Neck got to his feet and left the hut, his face frozen in shame or drunken pain. Born In Storm remained sleeping as light slowly filled the hut. Calling Crow walked over and shook him. He moaned but did not move.
Calling Crow sat back down beside Little Bear. “He must have drank more wine”
Little Bear shook his head. “No. He is dying. He swallowed some pieces of blood glass last night. I saw him. He did it because of his shame at attacking you.”
Calling Crow’s face clouded over in sorrow.
“Do not grieve for him,” said Little Bear. “Soon he will be out of here.”
Chapter 20
Diego tied his horse outside the church and walked around to the hut in the back where Father Luis lived. Father Luis and Father Sabastian were loading some supplies on the back of an ass. Their old Indian servant, Miguel, was helping them.
“Hola, Father,” said Diego as he walked up.
Father Luis smiled. Father Sabastian nodded to Diego and walked off, heading into the hut.
“Hola, Diego,” said Father Luis “It is good to see you. What can I do for you?”
Diego struggled for the right words. How did one speak of such horrors as he had witnessed? To do so in a darkened confessional was one thing, but in the bright light of day? He smiled sadly. “I have been feeling bad lately about some things.”
Father Luis smiled. “To feel bad on occasion is no sin.”
Diego nodded. “Yes, Father. But it has affected my faith, I’m afraid.”
Father Luis laughed. “I see. Then I must reacquaint you with the power of prayer.”
Diego said nothing.
Father Luis went on. “We are going to the mountains on a harvest. You can come along and we will talk when we can.” Harvest was the term the priests used to describe the treks they made into the foothills in an effort to convince the runaway Indians to come back to the mission with them. Once back, the runaways would be returned to their overseers, but only after the priests had received assurances that they would not be punished.
The asses were soon loaded, and the little expedition left the mission. Miguel led the asses, which were tethered head to tail, out onto the road. Diego, Father Luis, and Father Sabastian followed along behind. They soon reached the foothills and their little column wound its way up a thin trail.
Father Luis turned to Diego, who was bringing up the rear. “So, what is it that is troubling you so, Diego?”
Diego was breathing heavily from the climb and took a moment to reply. “When I went out on Senor Mateo’s ship, several Indians died that did not have to.”
Father Luis frowned. “I was told that many were infected with the Indian pox, that they were dying even as they were being brought off the ships.”
Diego nodded. “That is true, but that is not what I meant.”
Before Father Luis could answer, Miguel halted the column. “There they are,” he said, pointing up to the mountain where the trail reappeared where it came back around the curving spine of the ridge line. About half a dozen Indians could be seen walking slowly. Four of them looked to be middle aged men, and an older couple brought up the rear.
“Hurry,” said Father Luis. “They are not too far. We can catch them.”
The pace picked up and Diego could barely keep up, let alone talk. A short while later they rounded the curve of the trail. The Indians were nowhere in sight. Father Luis raised his hand to signal a halt. They stood quietly, not talking as they scanned the surrounding hills.
“They have vanished,” said Diego.
“Into thin air,” said Father Luis, as the men looked around. A rock fell from above, clacking noisily. Father Luis and the others looked up to where the rock face rose steeply. The Indians had climbed up, using gaps in the rock as handholds and footholds. They were about fifteen meters up, but had an equal distance to go before reaching the crest and freedom.
Father Luis turned to Diego, “Tell them to come down. Tell them we will help them.”
Diego called up, relaying the message in Arawak.
“We’ve had too much of your help al
ready,” one of the men said. “Leave us be.”
Diego turned to Father Luis and shook his head. “They won’t come down.”
“Keep trying,” said Father Luis.
Diego repeated his plea.
“Go away. Leave us.” The words Indians had paused, their words floating down on the hot, still air.
“They won’t listen,” said Diego. “It is no use.”
Father Luis grew angry. “No wonder you are having doubts of faith, if you give up on things that easily.” He knelt down in the dirt and rocks. Father Sabastian and Miguel also knelt. Father Luis looked up at Diego. “Kneel and pray with us and I’ll show you the power of prayer. Together we shall win with prayer.”
Diego knelt down with the other men. Above, the Indians climbed higher up the rock face, They were now about the height of a house, but they still had a ways to go and the angle was becoming increasingly steep.
Diego felt sorry for the Indians. To be so desperate as to want to go to the mountains where they would surely die, was very sad. Why could they not see the value of the Faith. He hoped the priest’s prayers would be answered.
The Indians reached a ledge near the top where they could climb no farther. They clung there, their faces expressionless.
For a while, no one said anything as the men prayed silently, while above the Indians clung motionless to the rock. Miguel stood suddenly. “Something is happening! They are up to something.”
Diego looked up and saw that the old couple was agitated. The four men, evidently relatives, were trying to calm them, but were having no success.
Father Luis turned to Diego. “Talk to them! Find out what is going on.”
Diego got to his feet and looked up. The Indians were talking excitedly, but he could not hear what they were saying. He said to Father Luis, “I think they are getting ready to come down.”
Father Luis smiled and stood. “Ah! Good. See!”
Diego watched as the old couple pressed their bodies against the wall and turned around to face out. Then, without warning, the old man jumped and fell, his body crumpling on the rocks below.
“Madre de Dios!” said Father Luis. He made the sign of the cross and ran to the man.
Unable to look away, Diego watched the woman prepare herself. “No!” he shouted. She jumped and landed not far from her mate, the soft sound of her impact sickening him. Diego sat in the dust. The realization that they would rather die than come back repulsed and frightened him. He knew of their sorrow and mistreatment, but Father Luis and others were working to change that. Overcome with sadness, he put his head in his hands and cried.
Chapter 21
The crow watched the people working in the mud as it flew low over the pit. Calling Crow could not take his eyes off its straight, arrow-like flight as its wings flapped powerfully and silently. It landed in a distant tree on a rise leading up to the mountains. Its rasping caw was louder than the tinny clink of metal tools on earth, and stone and the soft trod of the workers feet. The others, perhaps drugged by their pain and fatigue, were unaware of the bird, but Calling Crow could not stop looking at it. Lately a plan had come to him. He had started buying scraps of dried meat with what little money he had, and hiding them high up in the roof of the hut. He would use the scraps to lure the dogs away, allowing him to make it to the wall and over. He had also been memorizing the layout of the compound and the habits of the soldiers. He did not think he was ready to go, but here was this noble bird telling him he should leave tonight. He realized it was the time of the bitten moon and it would be very dark.
Calling Crow carefully shoveled a load of dirt into a woman’s basket. As she put it on her head and walked off, he looked around at the Spanish. They were everywhere, too many to count. Yet despite their hunger for yellow metal, they did not dig in the pits. Instead they loafed or played at wagering games, but, there were always a few watching the people work. And these were the ones with the dogs and thunder sticks. From the very first it had been obvious to Calling Crow that escape during the day was impossible.
Earlier Calling Crow had noticed that Little Bear was different today. He did not talk and he worked strong and steady like a younger man. Calling Crow heard the thud of a horse’s hooves and looked up to see Roldan riding by. Little Bear also stopped his shoveling to watch. All day long Little Bear had been watching Roldan closely. Now Calling Crow realized that he was watching to see what effect his medicine was having on Roldan, perhaps hoping to see him fall down dead. But Roldan seemed as strong as ever.
The sun burned down relentlessly as the day went by. As Calling Crow filled a woman’s basket with dirt, she fell in a faint. He lifted her face out of the dirt as the cholo guards rushed over. “Leave her!” they shouted at him, as they carried her away. Always it was the same-- whenever anyone fainted or got hurt, the guards would shout, “Keep on working! Leave them! Keep on working!” They would then wade into the pit with their whips and thunder sticks and drag the person off for the Black Robes to minister to.
Now, as Calling Crow worked, he felt faint. He saw a couple of people climb out of the pit and head up to the shade of some trees. Others followed. Every day when the sun was at a certain place the people would gather. Soon after the Spanish would arrive with a wagon full of cassava bread. There was never any meat. Calling Crow had not had meat since before his capture.
Calling Crow touched Little Bear on the shoulder. “It is time to stop and eat.” They climbed out of the pit and went over to sit in the shade. They said little as they waited for the cassava wagon, having little strength left to talk. They watched the heat roll off the pit in rippling waves. The cassava wagon did not come along when it should have and the Spanish guards looked up and down the road. Finally a column of dust was spotted down the main road. Soon Roldan and another man rode up on horses. There was no cassava wagon.
They quickly dismounted and Roldan handed the reins of his horse to the other man. Roldan approached the Spanish guards and the cholos. The people watched as they argued loudly. El Animal approached the people. “There is no food today,” he said. “Go back to work now.”
From the middle of the crowd, Calling Crow and Little Bear could not hear what they were saying. Then the word started spreading through the crowd in murmured voices. “No food today. They say we must go back to work.”
People around Calling Crow and Little Bear began to slowly get to their feet. Calling Crow was startled as Little Bear stood suddenly and shouted at them, “Everyone. Stay here! Do not move until they give us food. Stay here!”
People looked from him to each other, and to the Spanish, as they tried to decide what to do.
“Stay here,” shouted Little Bear. The people closest to him sat back down. The sitting down rippled from the middle of the crowd all the way out to where the Spanish stood, like the waves from a rock tossed in a calm pool. Only Little Bear was standing now, a withered old man with a fierce, determined face.
“Get up,” demanded one of the Spanish guards. “On your feet!” He kicked the man nearest him, and the man grunted in pain and fell onto his side. The people remained sitting or squatting, their eyes fixed nervously on the earth at their feet.
“Stay here until they feed you,” Little Bear shouted. He looked over at the guards. “Yes, we are your slaves. You need us to do your work, so feed us.” He turned back to the people. “It is all right. They will not kill you.”
Calling Crow watched the Spanish as they argued loudly. Roldan signaled some soldiers who stood off in the distance. They started over, their dogs straining at their ropes.
“Little Bear,” said Calling Crow, “sit down. They are bringing the dogs.”
Little Bear did not look at him. “Let them. I had a bad dream last night. My father came to see me. I could not look at him because of my shame at being a slave. I want to be able to look him in the eye. So if I have to die today at least I will do so standing up, with the sun on my back and the green hills filling my eyes.”
The snarling dogs practically pulled the soldiers along. The soldiers used their whips and clubs on the people to open up a path to Little Bear. Roldan shouted to his interpreter and the man said to Little Bear, “Tell the people to go back to the pit.”
“No, they are too weak to work. They will not move until you feed them.”
Calling Crow saw fearful realization blossoming on the interpreter’s face as he told Roldan what Little Bear had said. Roldan’s face turned blood red as he shouted in rage. Calling Crow watched in disbelief as the men holding the dogs knelt and began untying them.
“Old man,” said the interpreter, “please tell these people to go back to work or else the guards will surely kill you.”
Little Bear said nothing as he looked off at the hills. A handler released his dog. With a quick lunge, the animal leapt at Little Bear’s throat. Little Bear looked down at the last possible moment and brought his hands up to his face, but not before the animal’s jaws had closed on his neck. The weight of the dog knocked him backward. A moment later the other was on him and the people screamed and moved away. Calling Crow tried to pull one of the dogs off and it turned, biting him on the cheek The Spanish struck Calling Crow with whips and he fended off the blows as best he could. Some of the people grabbed Calling Crow from behind and dragged him backward, down toward the pit. He saw the shemi that Little Bear had made lying half buried in the mud where somebody had stepped on it. He picked it up as the soldiers dragged Little Bear’s body away. Tears filled his eyes and he moved off to join the others.
***
Calling Crow waited in the darkness of the hut until No Neck’s ragged breathing settled into a loud, rhythmic snore. Calling Crow pulled himself up onto a crosspiece of the roof and retrieved his bag of meat scraps. He listened carefully to the sounds of the compound. Soldiers approached and he said a prayer in his head until they moved off.