by Andrew Rowen
As for her kingdom, religious contempt that simmered beneath the veneer of everyday life ominously boiled into violence. In Córdoba, a brotherhood was established to unite “old Christians”— pure Christians, having clean blood, it claimed—against conversos. A blacksmith led it, and he vehemently warned that the conversos sought to secure the best royal and noble offices to usurp control of the kingdom. He harangued that the conversos’ conversions were insincere, motivated by the avarice and opportunism that flowed in their Jewish blood, and that they could never become true Christians because their blood would lead them forever to practice Jewish rituals and customs. His brotherhood marched through converso neighborhoods, bearing a statue of the Virgin and seeking to intimidate the residents, and violence eventually erupted when urine allegedly was thrown on the statue. The blacksmith ordered his followers to set fire to converso homes, and fighting and rioting grew to engulf the neighborhood. After the blacksmith was mortally wounded, it spread throughout the entire city. Old Christians ransacked converso houses and shops, raped women and girls, and massacred as many conversos as possible.
Isabel heard reports of the riots, including of women and girls raped and murdered, and was revolted. She was surprised that Enrique, who as king remained responsible for law and order, prosecuted no one. She saw that his inaction emboldened the anti-conversos in Andalusia, where shortly similar riots occurred in Jaén and Seville.
Isabel and Fernando visited Enrique in Segovia over the New Year’s celebrations commencing 1474, and Fernando met Enrique for the first time. They feasted and danced, and Enrique publicly acknowledged his love for her and respect for Fernando, as if she would succeed him. But he refrained from recognizing her as successor.
When in Segovia, Isabel summoned Cardinal Mendoza, more than three decades her senior. He and his wealthy, landed family had supported Enrique and sheltered little Juana for over a decade. Yet he now supported her succession, and, when the two met, he explained that the king—or a queen—is meant to rule with absolute authority, whether a good king or not, without dissent from the nobility. Isabel agreed and assured him her first priority and unequivocal passion, when crowned, would be to impose her authority on the nobility and restore law and order in everyday life.
Isabel also summoned Fray Tomás de Torquemada. Years earlier, he occasionally had served as her confessor, and she asked him what he thought of Córdoba, whether the king should have punished the murders and rapists. He replied that the riots that occurred were the consequence of the king’s tolerance of heresy, conversos, and Jews over his entire reign and that God meant for heretics and Jews to be punished. Isabel pondered Torquemada’s compassion, and a vision of the mothers and babies in Arévalo’s aljama flickered through her thoughts. She knew that Christ wouldn’t have countenanced murderers or rapists. She realized that Torquemada would want her to be more severe with the conversos and Jews than she then wished.
As their meeting ended, Isabel asked Fray Torquemada to serve as her confessor that day, and they retired to the alcazar’s chapel. As she was royalty, he also knelt when Isabel knelt before him. She had grown circumspect on what she now confessed and to whom, and she did not confess whether she wished Enrique’s death or knew with certainty that Enrique was not little Juana’s father. She confessed that she had danced at the New Year’s celebrations.
As the friar left, Isabel determined to seek another confessor.
GUARIONEX
Cacibaquel’s Cohaba Ceremony
Guarionex sat in a grove of fruit trees listening to his father, Cacibaquel, and two of Cacibaquel’s oldest friends, the village behique and the cacique Guamanacoel, pass the afternoon discussing anything that came to mind. Father gradually had delegated Guarionex responsibility for the daily administration of Magua, and, with the day’s work done, Guarionex relaxed, content to catch the conversation but not participate. The trees shaded them from the afternoon sun, and the talk wandered between the tribal and the personal, as well as the practical and the philosophical, a serious but informal union punctuated with occasional humor reflecting the three older men’s long friendship.
Guarionex gazed at Father and reflected that he had aged. He was neither frail nor infirm, and his wit and perception remained keen. But he had grown slender, almost gaunt, and he spoke and walked slowly as the elderly man he now was. Father’s delegation to Guarionex of routine duties had been and remained Father’s choice, yet it was a wise choice because Guarionex had the ability, patience, and desire to perform them, and Father no longer really did. Father frequently directed conversation to the spiritual as opposed to the practical, focusing on larger meanings and, perhaps, anticipating his soul’s next journey. To Guarionex’s amusement, he did so now, directing the discussion to the explanation of the origin of the sea, and his two friends eagerly followed.
“I remember watching it taught to grandchildren,” the behique said. “Youngsters can’t imagine killing their fathers. Teenage boys aren’t at all surprised. Teenage girls see it as a story about their brothers, not themselves.”
“The guidance to our boys is obvious,” Cacibaquel noted. “Death follows rebellion. Stealing is wrong. Learning proper conduct heals. Bones of the dead are food for the living. My son, what do you think?”
Guarionex was caught off guard by the request to participate but not the question itself. He had pondered the explanation many times, seeking its guidance on proper conduct. Yaya, the supreme spirit to whom all others answered, had learned that his son Yayael rebelled and plotted Yaya’s death. So Yaya smote Yayael first, and placed his bones in a gourd to remember him. When Yayael’s mother opened the gourd to visit her son, the bones had turned to fish and she planned to eat them with Yaya. But the boy Deminán Caracaracol and his brothers came to steal the fish because they were hungry. Deminán had been born in adversity, with syphilis, and dropped the gourd in fear of Yaya’s return. It shattered, releasing a great flood on the earth, creating the sea and the fish in it and sweeping the boys away. Deminán and the boys grew hungry again and asked another man for food but offered him nothing in return. The man was insulted and spat on Deminán, who grew sick, almost to death. Eventually, Deminán overcame the adversity of his birth and his misfortunes. He learned proper reciprocal conduct and built his home and prospered and his sicknesses healed.
“For me, I understand from it that it’s best to avoid confrontation when possible, to solve matters by reciprocating courtesy and compromise,” Guarionex replied. “One must be industrious and productive and make one’s own opportunities for oneself and for all, both giving to and receiving from others.”
The older men agreed and debated it further, and Guarionex was glad to be released from the conversation. As the afternoon waned, Cacibaquel proposed hosting a cohaba ceremony to honor Yúcahu for the cacicazgo’s tranquility and seek guidance for future prosperity. As the older men discussed this, Guarionex excused himself, knowing they would enthusiastically arrange the ceremony themselves.
It was an honor for a subordinate cacique to be invited, and, when the time came, each arrived with his own display of power and authority. Some were born on litters, others arrived with splendid gifts, and a few entered with an escort of warriors. They did not bring wives. Cacibaquel offered bohíos for accommodation, whereupon they remained celibate and fasted for seven days.
Guarionex was invited to participate, and, as the ceremony commenced, he watched Father place his cemí of Yúcahu on the cohaba table and praise him, honoring him for years of bountiful yuca crops and protection from Magua’s enemies—the Caribes and other Haitian caciques who harbored ambition for Maguan territory. Father inhaled the cohaba powder through his nostrils using a hollowed stick shaped like a Y and sat down, gazing sideways at the earth. Soon, the hallucinogen overcame him, his eyelids drooping and his arms and legs relaxing limply. One by one the caciques, the behique, and Guarionex inhaled the cohaba.
Guarionex felt a rush, as if thousands of tiny bubbles were st
reaming through his limbs and head, and then pleasant contortions, as if waves were rising and ebbing through his entire body. He could see Father and the others, but he sensed time and space suspended about them, and he slumped on his duho to await the spirits.
Father stood and gazed upward toward the heavens, addressing and imploring Yúcahu in a murmur, and frequently an occasional wild cry, that Guarionex did not understand, posing questions to Yúcahu and receiving replies. One of the behique’s assistants sometimes portrayed the replies, uttering through a long, hollow blowpipe that extended from behind the cohaba table through the bohío’s wall to the assistant sitting outside. Guarionex could not judge the time passing. Father eventually addressed the assembled caciques and recounted what he had learned from Yúcahu in a voice they could understand. Guarionex would remember Father’s words that moment for the rest of his life.
“Yúcahu has told me that those who remain alive after my death will rule for a brief time before a clothed people arrive to overcome them and kill them, and they will die of hunger.”
Guarionex and the caciques were stunned. It wasn’t a warning to prepare for an unknown enemy. It appeared a prediction of what would occur.
The caciques thanked Father for this sacred communication but sought explanation. Father replied that Yúcahu had divulged no more and revealed simply what Father had related. The caciques questioned what Yúcahu meant for them to understand and whether Father’s literal interpretation was correct.
“Is this a prediction for Magua or for all of Haiti?”
“Or all peoples emerging from the Cacibajugua?”
“Do these clothed people kill us all or do we starve? With all respect, Cacibaquel, this revelation seems unclear or ambiguous—or misunderstood.”
The caciques asked Father to consult Yúcahu again, to seek clarification and meaning, which he did—several times. But Father indicated that the subsequent communications simply confirmed the first, no more, no less. The caciques remained incredulous and ceased puzzling the meaning to challenge whether Father’s revelation was even valid.
“None of our spirits have ever warned of this. Why now? What has changed? I know of nothing.”
“The clothed peoples on the western and southern shores harbor no ambition for our land! We trade peacefully with them. Who can these people be?”
After what Guarionex perceived as a very long time, Cacibaquel concluded the ceremony, and the caciques retired to their bohíos in the moonlight, annoyed that Father’s revelation had been incomplete or confused.
In the morning, Guarionex woke to find that Father had returned to the ceremonial bohío. Guarionex grew anxious. It was not his place to criticize Father or the ceremony, even privately, but he was entitled to question the revelation’s meaning. He strode to the ceremonial bohío, where Father sat on a duho, alone, wan, and vanquished. Guarionex sat down next to him and spoke softly.
“Father, permit me a question about your communication with Yúcahu. If I succeed you as cacique, what do I do with it? How do I act upon it?”
Cacibaquel stared at the ground, pondering, and they sat in silence a few moments.
Guarionex continued. “If it was a warning, as opposed to a prediction, then I could direct our people to prepare to defend themselves. But if it was a prediction, was Yúcahu clear that everyone would die—or were some to survive, giving all a reason to defend themselves?”
“Yúcahu gave me no guidance on how to respond to this enemy,” Cacibaquel responded softly. “When you succeed me, you may decide to do with these clothed people what we could do with any enemy—either fight for victory, including their total annihilation, or negotiate a truce or compromise. There was no suggestion of simply succumbing, none. That would be unthinkable.” Cacibaquel recalled his son’s conception of Deminán. “Deminán’s civility, generosity, and willingness to compromise are not boundless. He understands to go to war for his people.”
“I understand.”
Cacibaquel reflected further. “More fundamentally, Yúcahu spoke to me. When you are cacique, you may ask Yúcahu these questions yourself, and he may answer you—perhaps differently. Other caciques certainly will seek their own advice.” He pondered a moment. “Yúcahu’s communication to me was clear.”
“Father, the Caribes don’t wear clothes. The peoples we trade with on the distant southern and western shores6 do wear clothes, and some have far superior military strength. But we haven’t suffered attacks from them before, and they would have to come very far with multitudes of men to launch an attack. The Caribes steal a few women from Haiti every year, but they don’t come to conquer, and the logistics of such a conquest of Magua, no less Haiti, seem insurmountable. I see no practical risk regarding this prediction.”
“Nor do I. I, too, was surprised by it. But the reason we ask for Yúcahu’s guidance is precisely because of the want of men’s vision.”
“I understand. I intend to ask these questions of Yúcahu myself at the appropriate time. We must continue to be mindful of Caribe attacks and help other caciques directly affected to repel them. We must be watchful of the clothed peoples to the south and west when we trade for guanín and other goods with them. That will be our policy.” Guarionex sat in silence with Father for a few moments longer and then excused himself.
Within a few seasons, Cacibaquel grew infirm and died, and, as he had wished, Guarionex succeeded him as cacique of Magua. The principal caciqual families of Haiti attended the funeral and recognized Guarionex’s accession. Guarionex eulogized his father eloquently, praising his spirituality, wisdom, and bravery, and commending that peace reigned when Haiti’s caciques possessed such virtues. The audience included a young Guacanagarí, attending with his uncle, and Caonabó, representing with cousins their uncle who was too elderly to make the journey across the Cibao. All appreciated the sentiments expressed, and none, except Guarionex, gave a passing thought to Cacibaquel’s strange cohaba revelation.
Deminán Caracaracol.
KING AFONSO V AND PRINCE JOÃO OF PORTUGAL
Ptolemy, Toscanelli, and Marco Polo, 1474
Following Prince Henrique’s death in 1460, King Afonso V continued to dispatch mariners in the quest to circumnavigate Guinea beyond the points achieved by Ca’ da Mosto to reach the Indies and locate the Christian kingdom of the Prester John. The mariners soon discovered that the Guinean coast rounded to the east and Afonso and his counselors rejoiced. A mariner also set up a trading post on Guinea’s southern shore at Samma (Shama, Ghana),7 where African traders brought gold panned and mined inland to the sea.
By 1473, voyages crossed the equator for the first time,8 and Afonso believed his ships had progressed east beyond the longitude of Tunis and, perhaps, even Alexandria. However, the mariners also reported that the Guinean coast turned sharply southward. By 1474, the mariners had traveled more than three hundred miles south from the bend in the African coastline (at Bioko, Equatorial Guinea), and the coast was not reverting east toward the Indies. The feasibility of the Guinean route to the Indies remained unproven.
Court cosmographers and geographers recognized that the mariners’ reports of Guinea challenged and refuted the established wisdom of Aristotle and St. Augustine. Aristotle’s warning that the equatorial zone was uninhabitable was plainly false. Thousands and perhaps millions of people inhabited the earth below the Saharan desert, including at the equator. Trees, vegetation, beasts, and man thrived in the humid heat—which was not unbearable. St. Augustine’s warning that the southern portions of the globe were covered with water was equally false, as the continuing southern projection of the Guinean coastline demonstrated.
But Ptolemy remained revered. He had taught that the inhabited land of the earth known in his day covered only a quarter of the earth’s surface. He believed this known portion stretched largely in the northern hemisphere east from the Canary Islands halfway round the earth to Sēra (perhaps Luoyang, central China) and Kattigara (perhaps Indonesia, southern Vietnam, or souther
n China) in the Indies, as well as from Thule (Iceland) in the north to somewhat below the equator in Libya (Africa). The Ocean Sea covered the remainder of the Northern Hemisphere, stretching west from Cape St. Vincent and the Canary Islands halfway round the earth to the Indies without interruption save islands. The rest of the world was unknown. He had estimated the circumference of the earth at the equator to be about 20,700 miles, implying an uninterrupted sailing distance at Lisbon’s latitude from Lisbon west to the eastern most point of the Indies known to him of more than 8,000 miles.
Ptolemy’s world map in his second projection. Ulm edition of 1482.
With the Guinean coast stretching southward rather than east to the Indies, Afonso and his counselors grew receptive to reconsidering whether the Ptolemaic calculation of the breadth of the Ocean Sea was exaggerated and sailing directly across it to the Indies was feasible. Afonso learned from a cleric in his court that a reputed Florentine physician Paolo del Pozzo Toscanelli believed exactly that. At Afonso’s instruction, the cleric wrote Toscanelli for an explanation.
By training a physician, Toscanelli had devoted much of his life to studying astronomy, mathematics, and geography, including writing a text designed to modernize Ptolemy’s geographical conclusions.9 He had also participated in his family’s trading business, which, prior to Mehmed II’s conquest of Constantinople, imported pepper and other spices sourced from the Indies at Kaffa on the Black Sea. He had studied—as both a geographer and merchant—Marco Polo’s account of his lengthy overland journey from Venice to the court of Khubilai Khan near Cambalu (Beijing) in the province Cathay and Marco’s identification of an island named Cipangu (Japan) lying 1,500 miles offshore east of the Indies. Toscanelli believed the lands in the Indies described by Marco Polo constituted an eastward extension of land beyond Ptolemy’s Sēra and Kattigara measuring almost a sixth of the earth’s surface, thereby substantially lengthening the extent of the Indies across the Northern Hemisphere beyond that known by Ptolemy and likewise shortening the sailing distance across the Ocean Sea from Portugal to the Indies. The existence of Cipangu off the Indies’ eastern coast further shortened that sailing distance.