Encounters Unforeseen- 1492 Retold

by Andrew Rowen

  The first treaty resolved the dynastic issue, extinguishing Afonso’s and Juana’s claims to the Castilian throne and offering Juana, then eighteen, the choice of marrying Prince Juan, then one, on his maturity or entering a nunnery. Juana chose the nunnery, believing the marriage would never happen. The treaty also provided for the marriage of Princess Isabel, then almost nine, to Prince João’s son Afonso, then four, on their maturity to further solidify the kingdoms’ perpetual peace.

  The second treaty, the Treaty of Alcáçovas, lamented the great evils and disservice to God occasioned by the wars following King Enrique’s death and, at God’s recommendation and order, reinstated the perpetual peace that had been declared between Castile and Portugal in 1431. Isabel and Fernando looked forward to heal their kingdom, not behind to punish. The peace terms reestablished the kingdoms’ boundaries as those existing on Enrique’s death, and the disloyal Castilian nobles were pardoned, prisoners released, and financial claims extinguished.

  This treaty also resolved the outstanding disputes regarding Guinea and ocean island claims in Portugal’s favor. The possession of and trade in Guinea and the islands of Madeira, Porto Santo, the Azores, and Cape Verde, as well as others known or to be discovered or conquered from the Canary Islands down toward Guinea, were Portugal’s with the exception of the Canary Islands—acquired or to be acquired—which were Castile’s. Castile thereby recognized Portugal’s right to Guinea and, effectively, to circumnavigate southern Africa to the Indies. The Castilian sovereigns agreed they would forbid their subjects to traffic in Guinea or Portugal’s islands without consent of the Portuguese sovereign and punish those who did.

  With peace secured, Isabel returned to Toledo and, in November, gave birth to the sovereigns’ third child, Juana, named in memory of Fernando’s mother.

  Prince João, then twenty-four, had managed Portugal’s Guinean trade in his tutelage and had been outraged by Isabel’s disruption of it. Following the treaty’s adoption, he and Afonso ordered Portuguese captains traveling to Guinea to capture unlicensed foreign vessels found in those waters and throw their entire crews overboard.

  João understood far better than Isabel and Fernando that the treaty’s concession of Guinea to Portugal conferred an exclusive route to the Indies. In 1481, he successfully sought a bull from Pope Sixtus,14 confirming the prior papal bulls obtained by Prince Henrique conferring Portugal’s exclusive right to traffic in Guinea and, in addition, clarifying that Portugal’s southern territory lay below the southernmost point of the Canaries and west of and in the vicinity of Guinea. But João would live to learn he had not understood enough.

  ANACAONA

  Succession in Xaraguá

  The paramount cacique of Xaraguá ruled his territory from a village on a dry agricultural plain east of the innermost point (Port-au-Prince) of the great gulf on Haiti’s western coast. Farms stretched east and west from the village for miles, surrounding two freshwater lakes15 and the great saltwater Lake Hagueygabon (Lake Enriquillo). The village drew its water from a large stream that tumbled north from the mountains on the southern coast and was siphoned to irrigate the fields, which were cultivated year-round. Women were practiced in cooking fine dishes for great feasts where guests were entertained by areítos that recorded Taíno culture, religion, and history. Civility, discourse, and beauty were understood and appreciated, as was the general peace that had reigned for generations.

  Anacaona sat with her older brother, Behecchio, on duhos in the plaza before Uncle’s caney, the largest in Haiti, sipping papaya juice, waiting to be summoned. They had grown up together, children of the same mother, and had always been close friends and confidants. Behecchio enjoyed and trusted Anacaona and appreciated her sharp intelligence, uncommon presence, and mystique as Haiti’s most beautiful woman. Anacaona recognized that Behecchio was fit to rule Xaraguá, and that he was not only the customary choice but an excellent choice. He led warriors, inspired the loyalty of the subordinate caciques, and demanded the respect of Xaraguá’s neighbors. They each appreciated that women were rarely selected cacique—only if a man cacique died and one of his sisters was then the only good choice—and that Anacaona would be fit to rule in that event. It was Anacaona through whom the family possessions—its cemís, duhos, canoes, and stores of cotton goods—would pass by custom, not Behecchio.

  Uncle had called a council of the subordinate Xaraguán caciques and a cohaba ceremony next month to discuss succession and Anacaona’s marriage. Presumably that was what he wanted to discuss today, perhaps to tell them his decisions, perhaps simply to ascertain their views. The time for resolution had come. Uncle was growing infirm. Behecchio already had taken almost a dozen wives. Anacaona had been initiated to womanhood in a traditional ceremony over a year before, and many women her age were already married. Uncle had offered her as a nighttime gift to important visiting caciques a number of times now, and she also had chosen her own partners and was ready for marriage.

  Behecchio took Anacaona’s hand. “Succession and marriage decisions are practical. If they think I’m fit to rule, they’ll simply follow custom and choose me. It wouldn’t be a criticism of you.” Anacaona nodded and shrugged, and Behecchio continued. “Your stature makes your marriage an opportunity to forge an important alliance. If Uncle listened to you, who would you want to marry?”

  “Before I answer, who do you think I should marry?”

  “The obvious choices are Guarionex, Caonabó, and Guacanagarí. Caonabó and Guacanagarí are neighbors, so a marriage to either would secure peace along the common border. Caonabó is the stronger, more important to neutralize. Guarionex isn’t a neighbor, but an alliance with him could neutralize Caonabó.”

  “Who should I want to marry? Who do you want me to marry?”

  “From Xaraguá’s viewpoint, the best marriage is with Caonabó. But I will support your preference, whoever it is. There are differences in these men that would affect your happiness—and your own exercise of authority.”

  “Behecchio, I want to hear your thoughts on these men. You know them, and I don’t. They have many wives, and they’re all older than you, no less myself. Uncle has never asked me to sleep with any of them.”

  Behecchio was amused Anacaona sought more information before revealing her views. “Guarionex is the most thoughtful and cultured. Perhaps he would understand you best and you would enjoy his company the most, as well as his confidences, and through his confidences have influence. The marriage understandings must include that you be the principal wife in function, if not in affection. But his territory is farther away, and your continuing access to Xaraguá would be less. Caonabó is the best warrior, as we all know, but he would appreciate your culture less, and I’m not sure you would influence his thinking. Guacanagarí is cultured and would appreciate you, and you might be able to exert control over him more than the other two.”

  “If the choice were mine, I wouldn’t choose Guacanagarí. He doesn’t have my stature, or Xaraguá’s stature, in any respect. I want to marry only a cacique of the greatest stature.” Anacaona paused, confirming by his expression that Behecchio agreed. “You say that I must be the principal wife in function, if not affection, and I agree. As to commanding affection, I will handle that myself. But being the principal wife is not enough. I must be entitled to bring Xaraguán nitaínos and naborias to my husband’s caney, beholden to my exclusive control.” She paused again to stare directly into her brother’s eyes. “These older men will pay attention to me only if I have authority and power independent from them, and that must come from my retaining authority and power in Xaraguá.”

  Behecchio stared directly back. “Assuming I’m chosen cacique, you will retain access to Xaraguá and the family possessions. Your child will succeed me if worthy. These are not only custom, but my agreement with you. It must be understood that your husband has no authority in Xaraguá. I will not choose as my successor any child of yours if that is your husband’s design. Xaraguá is and must remain
independent and supreme.”

  “I agree.” She kissed his forehead.

  “So, who do you want, Caonabó or Guarionex?”

  “Let’s see what Uncle has to say first.”

  Behecchio burst into laughter.

  Within moments, Uncle summoned Behecchio into the ceremonial bohío to advise him that Uncle would recommend to his council that Behecchio succeed as cacique, whereupon Uncle congratulated Behecchio and dismissed him. He summoned Anacaona to tell her Behecchio would be the chosen successor and that Uncle would recommend to the council that she be married to Caonabó. Anacaona explained the marriage conditions she thought were important, and Uncle indicated that he had already thought of all of them and a few others. He congratulated her and consoled her that, regardless of Behecchio’s selection, he had never doubted her ability to rule Xaraguá.

  CRISTÓVÃO

  Marriage in Lisbon, (1479)

  In 1477, Cristoforo returned from Thule and made his home in Lisbon, taking jobs as an agent arranging shipments for the leading Genoese merchant families doing business there. He learned some Portuguese and become known in Lisbon as Cristóvão Colombo or simply Cristóvão Colom. In Savona, Brother Bartolomeo decided at sixteen to become Cristoforo’s assistant in Lisbon rather than apprentice as a weaver. Domenico was confident his two sons would complement each other. He recognized Bartolomeo as the shrewdest of his children, more careful and astute with people than Cristoforo and harsher and less trusting.

  The brothers lived in a small room near the port in Lisbon’s commercial district (Baixa), surrounded by the bustle of Portugal’s burgeoning African trade and close to the shipyards. The Crown buildings for administering the trade and collecting the gold were but a few minutes’ walk, overlooking large plazas abreast the quays and piers where ships berthed to load and unload. Merchandise arriving and departing lay everywhere, including slaves held in pens awaiting evaluation of their age, health, and strength necessary so buyers and sellers could negotiate prices.

  Cristóvão decided they would go into business making maps for sale to mariners. They purchased parchment and paint and became accomplished at their trade, particularly Bartolemeo, producing charts of the Portuguese coast, the Mediterranean, and the Ocean Sea. Bartolomeu—as he then became known—minded the business when Cristóvão traveled with the shipments he arranged.

  The brothers enjoyed Lisbon and, following Domenico’s example, worked tirelessly to establish themselves. The city’s neighborhoods were home to many foreign peoples—merchants from Venice, England, and Flanders, and Arab and black Mohammedans from Africa—and its hillsides gracefully descending to port reminded them of home. They explored the old city, the Alfama, climbing its steep, narrow streets to sit on the hillside outside the walls of the Alcáçova (Castelo de São Jorge), built by the infidel in the eleventh century, where the king resided when in Lisbon. They ventured past Restelo (Belém) to watch ships departing north and south into the Ocean Sea, stopping to pray at the small chapel of the Santa María de Belém established by Prince Henrique for mariners.16 They gazed at the sunset over the horizon and, infrequently, saw ships dip beyond it en route to the Azores, more than eight hundred miles west.

  Cristóvão began to seek an advantageous marriage. He purchased finer clothing with his modest earnings and began to attend church services at the Convento dos Santos west of the commercial district, which boarded widows and daughters of the knights of a Christian military order. Every Sunday, he studied the women and girls as they came to mass and, when service recessed, followed them into the convent’s gardens overlooking the Tagus River where they were available to meet suitors. One Sunday, he approached a woman who looked about his age, beyond the norm for a woman’s marriage, and introduced himself in the broken Portuguese he had acquired, with confidence and bravado.

  “I’m Cristóvão Colombo, a Genoese merchant and cartographer, and it would be my privilege and pleasure to talk with you.” The woman smiled and nodded, indicating she would entertain more of his advance. “I now live in Lisbon, near the port, and have just returned from exporting goods from Scio and exploring the seas at Thule. I’ve fought pirates off Cape St. Vincent and sank four or five of them before my ship succumbed.”

  Filipa Moniz Perestrelo was shy, an elderly twenty-six or so, and flattered by the attention, conscious that charm would be necessary to offset an absence of beauty. She knew the suitor sought her background and was eager to tell him.

  “I’m Filipa Moniz Perestrelo, of noble stock through both my father and mother. My father was Bartolomeu Perestrelo, the nobleman of King João I’s household to whom Prince Henrique conferred hereditary governorship of the island of Porto Santo. Father passed away when I was young. He had fought with Henrique in Africa and his ancestors hailed from Piacenza, north of Genoa. My mother is Isabel Moniz, Father’s third wife, born of a noble family established for centuries in the Algarve on our southern coast. My brother Bartolomeu has assumed the governorship of Porto Santo, and Mother and I visit the family possessions there often.”

  Both remained interested, Cristóvão keenly so. He began to tell some humorous stories of his travels. Filipa enjoyed his cheer, and he enjoyed her trusting simplicity and warmth. He asked if he could talk with her the following Sunday, and she gaily agreed. She told her mother Isabel.

  Cristóvão and Isabel investigated further. Cristóvão inquired with agents of the Spinolas and di Negros, and they confirmed Filipa’s nobility, although they noted that the family was not wealthy. The Perestrelos were known to the king and court, particularly since some of their women had born the archbishop of Lisbon’s children. Isabel’s chief of household conferred directly with the same Genoese families, and they related that Cristóvão was nobody, his parents were nobody, and he worked as a merchant’s agent and common seaman and made maps when unemployed.

  Isabel met with Cristóvão directly one Sunday. She asked whether he enjoyed hunting on horseback and dancing at court and to see his family crest. He told her that he had no inherited wealth but that his ancestors were distinguished. He described his business and travels. Isabel’s chief of household investigated his habits in Lisbon, and Isabel was comforted that he was religious, well spoken, never swore, and rarely drank, and that he did earn a living.

  Cristóvão asked Brother Bartolomeu whether he thought the potential match worth pursuing. Bartolomeu said Cristóvão could do no better and that it was a long shot. Cristóvão shouldn’t dare request a dowry or that would sink it. If the marriage were landed, servants would cook his food and wash his clothes and he might live as a merchant on Scio. He might even meet Prince João.

  Cristóvão agreed. He liked Filipa, as well. She spoke to him as if they were of equal status. He recalled how inconsequential Father was to the Genoese nobility.

  Filipa soon asked Isabel’s consent if Cristóvão proposed marriage. Isabel angrily refused at first, admonishing that the marriage was beneath their lineage as Cristóvão had no noble heritage whatsoever. But she recognized Cristóvão was an able conversationalist, unfortunately boastful, but always pleasant and engaging to everyone. He could be introduced at court. He could learn to dance at banquets with Isabel’s friends and even at the prince’s court. Isabel also recognized that, if Cristóvão proposed, it likely would be the only offer Filipa ever received. She allowed the courtship to continue.

  The courtship frequently was interrupted as Cristóvão traveled to arrange shipments for Genoese merchant families. In July 1478, Cristóvão shipped to Madeira to purchase some sugar for Paolo di Negro as agent for the Genoese nobleman Lodisio Centurione. Lodisio advanced Paolo funds for the full purchase price and Cristóvão purchased the sugar in Madeira in advance of receiving most of the funds from Paolo. When Paolo failed to deliver the remaining funds, the transporting ship left for Genoa with only that portion of the sugar paid and Lodisio brought claims in Genoa against Paolo. Cristóvão was called to Genoa in 1479 to testify as a witness.

&nb
sp; Before departing Lisbon, Cristóvão proposed to Filipa, and she and her mother consented. Cristóvão and Filipa found shadows in the convent gardens and embraced. His heart pounded with satisfaction that he had achieved a tremendous advancement. Her heart pounded that, while others might scorn, she would be married and bear children and attend the king’s court with a husband.

  Cristoforo testified in Genoa as a citizen of Genoa in the sugar shipment matter on August 25, 1479. In the days preceding, he reunited with his family in Savona. Domenico and Susanna were aging, and Domenico had reverted simply to weaving. They were pleased to hear of their boys’ successes as business agents and mapmakers, and they were astounded to learn of Cristoforo’s engagement to a woman of noble birth. Cristoforo accurately described Filipa’s charm, but Domenico and Susanna concluded to themselves that Filipa must be unusually unattractive or pregnant, probably both. Cristoforo’s parents and siblings didn’t have the means to travel to Lisbon for his wedding. This was convenient for him, since he didn’t want them to attend. He gave a portion of his savings to Domenico, and, on August 26, Cristóvão sailed from Genoa for Lisbon.

  In the autumn, Cristóvão and Filipa were married in her convent’s church in a simple, sparsely attended ceremony. That evening, Cristóvão made love to her and consummated their marriage. For both, their nakedness and warmth dispelled the constraints of class and origin, and of wealth and want, and they were happy together and with their union. Neither then expected more of the other. They each looked forward to Cristóvão’s success in exploiting Moniz and Perestrelo contacts to better himself and to dancing at Prince João’s court.

  _______________

  1 René d’ Anjou.

  2 The promontories of the Rock of Gibraltar and Jebel Musa, Morocco.