by Paul Clayton
De Sole’s smile disappeared. “I am not used to granting conditions,” he snapped.
Mateo said nothing.
“What is the condition?”
“Excellency,” said Mateo, “are you aware of the charges against Senor Diego Vega?”
De Sole nodded.
“Excellency, it is a preposterous slander. Diego Vega would never do such a thing. It is all the cowardly machinations of the same soldier who is responsible for my being here before you today, Senor Alonso Roldan. Would you allow me to bring some reputable citizens before you, people you could question thoroughly about Diego’s character? I’m sure that then you would quickly see that this is nothing but baseless slander and we could clear it up.”
“Very well,” said de Sole and his icy smile returned. He looked up at the guards. “Escort him to the tax man’s office and after he pays his tax, release him.”
Chapter 31
Bishop Cavago donned his large black sun hat and walked confidently out of the house. He had managed to deflect all the charges Father Luis had directed against him and now the Inquisitor was off investigating other areas. Another bit of luck that had fallen his way was that De Sole had chosen him to be his own liaison to the Church on the expedition to the Floridas. This had been quickly communicated to the Inquisitor. To top it all off, Father Luis was also going on the expedition, not staying behind with the Inquisitor as Cavago had feared. Once they were over in the Floridas, he would have to make some arrangement for the good Father, perhaps putting him in charge of some still-wild settlement to keep him busy for the rest of his days. Now there was only one more possible threat to him-- Juana. He could not very well go to the Floridas and leave her behind on the island with the Inquisitor. Someone might say they had seen her coming and going from his house the year before, and that they suspected something untoward. And if the Inquisitor ever interviewed her, what would she tell him? He must find her and take her with him.
Cavago climbed into the open coach of his carriage and nodded to his driver. They moved off, bouncing along the rutted street. Every day for the past week they had searched for Juana in a different part of the city. Today they were headed to the wharf district. The streets were crowded and they rode past strolling ladies and gentlemen, throngs of soldiers and sailors still fresh off the ships, vendors selling their wares of native baskets and mats woven from grasses. There were also swarms of beggars, old people, invalids, and packs of children. An older mestizo man approached the carriage when it slowed to let a courier on a horse pass. Cavago gave him an indifferent stare. The horseman raced by, its hooves throwing up a cloud of red dust in the middle of the street. The carriage began moving again, and as the air slowly cleared, Cavago spotted Juana. “Quickly,” he said, pointing her out to the driver.
The driver maneuvered the carriage to the side of the street where Juana stood talking to a vegetable vendor. The long, green skirt Juana wore could no longer hide the life growing inside of her belly.
As the carriage drew up, Cavago noted the startled look on her face. Juana quickly said something in her own language to the woman vendor and walked over to the carriage. A few Indians standing about stared at them in curiosity.
“I haven’t seen you in days, child,” said Cavago.
Juana waited for him to go on, her face composed into a pleasing smile.
“I shall be leaving with the De Sole expedition to the Floridas,” said Cavago. He saw something in her face at the news, but it passed so quickly he could not tell what it was. He had done so much for her and he believed she had grown to think well of him.
“When do you leave?” said Juana in the voice she often used when they were around others, a voice that showed no emotion.
“Within the month. I am thinking of taking you with me.” Cavago was sure of her emotions this time. The pain in her eyes was obvious and he was surprised to find that it hurt him. Well, it was further evidence that it would not be wise to leave her behind.
“It would be difficult for me now,” she said slowly. “My uncle on the reservation has been very ill. I have been spending much time there nursing him.”
Anger hardened Cavago’s voice. “Finish up this business with your uncle and be at my house tonight.”
Juana said nothing and he went on. “Running away would not be wise, Juana. We both know I have many friends and spies on the island. And besides, you wouldn’t want to hurt the child.”
Juana nodded and Cavago’s driver cracked his whip, moving the carriage out into the street.
***
Juana felt a stich of pain in her belly. She walked slowly and aimlessly through the streets. The warm thoughts that used to sustain her, of Calling Crow and their work on the big dugout, and their happy plans made by the fire in the hut, all these now grew cold like a beach fire suddenly swamped by a rogue wave. All she could see was the Bishop’s horrible smiling face. She moved in a daze, unaware of the noises and movement around her. She stepped on a vendor’s basket of wares, and he angrily cursed her. She moved on. Some children began following her, laughing and shouting at her, but she did not respond and they grew fearful and let her be. She almost stepped in front of a galloping horse, but an old man grabbed her elbow and pulled her aside. He looked in her eyes to speak to her and she hurried away in fright.
She continued walking. Two men carrying a large basket crossed the street and she almost walked into them.
“Crazy woman! Watch where you are going,” one of them shouted.
His voice was like a blow and her mind grew suddenly sharp. She looked at the man angrily and walked on to keep her meeting with Calling Crow.
Calling Crow was sitting in the shade of one of the few trees in the square. When he saw Juana approaching, he got to his feet. “What happened?” he said.
She walked over to the edge of the fountain and sat down. She dipped her hand in the water and wet her brow. Calling Crow sat down beside her.
“The Bishop is taking me with him on the expedition to the Floridas,” she said. “It will leave within the month.”
Calling Crow shook his head in frustration. “Aieyee! And the canoe will not be ready for days and days! I should not have listened to you before. We should have run away then.”
Juana held him tightly by the arm. “There is nothing we can do. I shall have to go with him.”
He looked at her. “I would kill him before I would let him take you away.”
Tears rolled down Juana’s cheeks.
Calling Crow turned away and stared into the clear waters of the fountain. He turned back to her. “We shall have to get more of your people to help us with the canoe. This is all we can do… since you will not come with me to the mountains.”
“But the more people you tell, the greater the danger that someone will talk,” she said.
“Then Red Coat will have to pick them very carefully. Take me to him now.”
They got to their feet. Juana looked at Calling Crow’s reflection in the pool. He was so brave and proud, she thought. But in the eyes of the Spanish, these were deadly sins for an Indian, never to be tolerated. Why couldn’t he just settle down and embrace the Faith. Despite her pleas, despite his respect for Father Luis, he would not. She dipped her hands into the water for a drink, and their image melted into rippling waves of light.
Chapter 32
Mateo tied up his horse to the hitching post at Father Luis’s mission. As he walked past the church, the sound of children reciting a catechism echoed out of the Gothic windows into the hot, still air. He walked round the back and found Father Luis in his hut. The priest looked up at him tiredly from where he sat, writing at a table. He waved away a fly.
“Come in, Senor Mateo. What can I do for you?”
Mateo moved to stand before the table, not knowing how to begin. “It is about Diego Vega.”
Father Luis nodded. “I heard. It is unbelievable.”
“Of course it is unbelievable.” Mateo’s voice grew loud with anger
. “It is all lies! It is the work of Senor Roldan and his men. You must help me to expose them.”
“Of course they are lies,” said Father Luis, “but why are they doing this?”
“Father, I’m afraid it is all to get back at me because of some things which happened on my ship some time ago. I made Diego give Roldan a whipping. That is why he is doing this.”
Father Luis shook his head. “I see, but why a whipping? What happened? If I am to help Diego I must know everything.”
Mateo sighed heavily and sat down. An hour later he finished telling the priest what happened on the ship. Father Luis got to his feet and began pacing. He stopped and stared angrily at Mateo. “You should have come to me sooner about this!”
Mateo said nothing his face glum.
“Roberto,” called Father Luis.
Calling Crow came into the hut and stopped at the sight of Mateo.
“It is all right,” said Father Luis.
Calling Crow remained where he was.
“Roberto, is it true that many Indians were pushed into the sea during the storm on the ship?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never asked.”
“But, Roberto, something so terrible, you must have wanted to tell others of it.”
Calling Crow looked down. “Many terrible things have happened, Father. Too many to tell.”
“Very well,” said Father Luis. “And what was old Diego Vega’s role in this? You know him; he is the older one with the large head of gray hair.”
“He tried to stop them, Father. But they would not listen to him.”
As Mateo witnessed the exchange he was impressed by the transformation of the near naked wild man they had captured on the beach.
Father Luis interrupted his thoughts. “Senor Mateo, we will have a difficult time of this. The crime they have accused him of is so pernicious, so evil, that we will have to prove them false beyond the shadow of a doubt.”
Mateo nodded. “Yes, Father. I will do whatever you say.”
Father Luis smiled slightly. “I will have Roberto go with me to the Cabildo and repeat what he has just said, before the Inquisitor. He can tell them what really happened on that voyage.”
Father Luis looked over at Calling Crow. “Will you do that, Roberto?”
“Yes, Father.”
Father Luis nodded to Calling Crow. “You may go now.”
Chapter 33
The sun was beginning its climb into a clear blue sky as Calling Crow pushed through the chest high bushes with Juana right behind him. Calling Crow and Juana had been working on the canoe every night. And with the four extra men Red Coat had picked to help them, they had made good progress on the canoe and would be ready to put off for Florida in days.
They came out into a boggy area and walked along the sun-warmed mud flats. An hour later, they neared the wall of coast forest ahead and Calling Crow stopped abruptly. Juana bumped into him tiredly. “What is it?” she said.
Calling Crow turned his head back and forth slowly as he listened. “Nothing. It is nothing.” They moved into the thick trees and bushes until they found the trail. After walking for a while they came to a thicket of flowering bushes. They pushed inside. Parting the leaves on the other side, Calling Crow and Juana looked out. The canoe sat alone in the quiet palmetto glade.
Calling Crow watched silently, saying nothing. Finally, he turned to Juana. “Let us go out.” They pushed into the clearing.
It was very quiet as they walked up to the canoe.
“You gather more wood,” said Calling Crow. “I will start the fire.” Calling Crow knelt to blow on the coals of the fire. Soon a tiny curl of smoke appeared. He sprinkled kindling on it and blew it into a flame. As he was putting on more kindling, he saw two soldiers walk out of the trees. They both carried crossbows, and one of them held Juana by the arm.
Calling Crow thought with disgust that someone had betrayed them as the soldiers walked up to him. “Where are the others?” said the man holding Juana.
“There are no others,” said Calling Crow. The soldiers did not know their names and Calling Crow thought that perhaps they had stumbled on their camp by mistake. He hoped that was the case.
The man scowled. He turned to his companion. “Scout around in case there are others. Be careful.”
The soldier grunted in reply and moved off.
“Now,” said the man. “Get that fire going good. You have no need of a sea-going canoe.” He pushed Juana and she stumbled into Calling Crow. “You help him. Carry these sticks and logs and put them in the canoe.”
Juana picked up an armload of the firewood they had stacked the day before. She dumped it in the canoe and started back for more.
Calling Crow looked around for the other soldier as he scooped up the burning kindling with a large curled piece of bark. As the soldier kept the crossbow trained on him, he dumped it on the wood Juana had piled in the canoe. The fire grew quickly.
“Now help her carry firewood,” the soldier said.
Calling Crow picked up an armload of stout sticks and carried them over to the canoe where Juana was.
The soldier who had disappeared into the thicket called out, “They have a hut back here. But I think they are alone.”
The soldier guarding Calling Crow turned to look. Calling Crow carefully put down the sticks he was carrying and picked up one as big around as his arm. He brought it down on the man’s helmet. The stick clanged as it broke in half and the man fell over.
“Juana!” he said as he took her arm. They hurried into the safety of the thicket. Clawing their way through, they came out into the trees. They could hear the crackle of the fire behind.
Calling Crow and Juana hurried as quickly as her condition would allow, and soon reached the bog. They paused to look back over the trees and saw the black sooty smoke roiling skyward, carrying with it their hopes of escape and a new life. In deep despair over what had happened, they said nothing till they reached the edge of the town. There, many people were talking excitedly about the fair being held in De Sole’s honor. Tired and hungry, they needed something to eat. Calling Crow decided that they would be safe in the crowds. They headed for the fairgrounds.
They came upon a crowd that was following a strange giant. A Spanish, he had legs as long as Calling Crow was tall, and he walked in a slow, steady gait, turning to wave and smile at all he passed. Despite his anger and despair, Calling Crow was distracted by the sight.
Two small boys dashed out of the crowd and ran under the man, one of them tugging up on his pant leg. A smile appeared on the boy’s face as he ran back to the crowd shouting, “They are sticks! He is walking on sticks!”
Calling Crow’s worry and anger returned, turning to disgust as the crowd broke into an excited babble of speculation. He turned to Juana. “Beneath the power of these Spanish, there are many tricks. There is no end to them.”
Juana said nothing as they moved on toward some shade trees. Against the trunk of one of them, a group of native men sat drinking Spanish wine from a skin bag. Calling Crow saw others lying sick and unable to move. He turned away at the sight. He looked at Juana. “I wonder if someone among your people has betrayed us.”
“No,” said Juana. It was not betrayal.”
Calling Crow shook his head. “Don’t talk! You talk too much.”
“I will talk,” said Juana. She faced him angrily. “And you will listen to me.”
Calling Crow’s eyes blazed defiantly. “No more.”
Juana went on. “It is possible that the Spanish stumbled onto the canoe. While they seldom go there, they do patrol the whole island. It is possible. But it doesn’t matter now.”
“One of your people told,” Calling Crow said. “Don’t defend them. Do you want to be with them or me?”
“How can you ask such a thing?” she demanded.
Calling Crow turned away from her in anger. In the distance he saw a red cloth house i
n a fenced enclosure. A sleek black horse was tethered to a tree outside.
He turned back to her. She was crying softly and he was moved by the sight. “Perhaps you are right,” he said, his voice calming. “At any rate, it matters not now. We should go off to the mountains. At least there we could be together till the end.”
Juana looked at him sadly and said nothing.
Calling Crow waited. “Well,” he said, “are you going with me?”
Juana moved close to him and laid her head against his chest. “I go with you always and anywhere, my love.”
Calling Crow put his arms around her and held her.
They walked toward the red cloth house with the beautiful horse tethered outside. Calling Crow leaned against the fence. A man walked out of the cloth house and up to the horse, and Calling Crow involuntarily tensed. It was Mateo. Mateo patted the great animal on the neck and gently talked to it.
Juana sensed Calling Crow’s anger and touched his arm. “Who is he?”
“Mateo, the one who brought me here. Now they have put his friend in jail, the old gray hair called Diego.” Calling Crow shook his head slowly in disgust. “These Spanish, they put the good in jail and let the bad run free.”
Juana looked at him worriedly and turned to look back at the crowds. “I will go and find us something to eat,” she said. “I will come back soon.”
Calling Crow turned to her. “Be careful.” He watched her walked off. He turned back to see Mateo pulling his gray colored chain mail leggings over his breeches. Mateo followed the leggings with a bright red doublet, and then armor and a hood. As the great horse nibbled the dewy grass, Mateo covered the horse with body armor decorated with many bright red tassels. Looking up suddenly, he saw Calling Crow.
Calling Crow met his gaze, wondering if he would ever be free of him and his kind.
A boy ran up to Mateo, yelling excitedly that it was time for the joust. Mateo mounted the horse, and the boy took the bridle, leading him away.