Encounters Unforeseen- 1492 Retold

by Andrew Rowen

  The sovereigns’ affections for Cristóbal grew stronger, particularly Isabel’s. They reaffirmed the nobility and titles previously conferred and clarified that the jurisdiction of his admiralship began west of a line running north to the south through the Azores and the Cape Verde islands, without the interposition of the one hundred league buffer. They granted him a coat of arms—a shield heralding his honor and entitlements—with a quadrant depicting rich gold islands.

  Columbus’s coat of arms, as painted in La Rábida.

  Cristóbal felt it essential that his two brothers, Bartolomé and Giaccomo, return with him to the Indies to assist in governance. The sovereigns awarded them both titles, whereupon Cristóbal dispatched messengers to Paris and Savona, asking them to meet in Seville before the voyage departed. The sovereigns appointed Santángel’s partner and a financier of the first voyage, the Sevillian Genoese banker Francesco Pinelo, paymaster for the second.

  Isabel and Cristóbal discussed his personal situation and that his elder son, Diego, serve as a page at court when he came of age after living first with sister-in-law Violante. Isabel promised that both sons could become pages to Prince Juan when they came of age, regardless of Fernando’s illegitimacy. Isabel arranged that Violante and her husband receive a house in Seville—which the Inquisition had confiscated from a converso—where she and the boys could live. The sovereigns awarded Cristóbal the annual pension of 10,000 marvedis for being the first sailor to sight land on the outward voyage, ignoring the doubts of Rodrigo Sánchez.

  On May 29, the sovereigns rendered their written order to Cristóbal for the administration of the lands the Lord had revealed to them through his diligence, aware of Alexander’s admonishment as to their duty. The order expressed that their principal concern was the increase of the faith and directed Cristóbal to convert the inhabitants by all ways and means, including through the services of the Indians who had come to Spain. The colony was to be organized similar to Mina, with all merchandise traded and goods obtained being the property of the Crown alone, except Cristóbal would receive of one-tenth of the profits as admiral and an additional one-eighth to the extent he underwrote. The order admonished that the objective of conversion might be better attained if Cristóbal compelled all who voyaged there to treat the Indians very well and lovingly and abstain from doing them any injury, arranging that both peoples hold much conversation and intimacy, each serving the other to the best of their ability. Cristóbal was to give the Indians gifts and punish severely those who maltreated them. Vassalage was contemplated, slavery was not.

  But the order didn’t address what Cristóbal should do in the event the Indians disagreed with or chose to resist the sovereigns’ settlement on their homeland. The pope as the Lord’s servant had granted the Indians’ homeland to the sovereigns, and there was no misunderstanding whatsoever among people living on terra firma— the pope, King João, the sovereigns’ subjects, the Christians, conversos and Jews of Europe, the peoples of the Canary Islands or Guinea, or the infidels at Istanbul or Jerusalem—as to what Queen Isabel and King Fernando expected Cristóbal should then do. Cristóbal was not to graciously withdraw or retreat, but to achieve and maintain the colony by using the weapons provisioned. While they wished the Indians brought into their realm with kindness, education, and love, the sovereigns were to be their supreme rulers—by force if necessary. The order also didn’t contemplate what was to be done if the Grand Khan were found and claimed dominion himself.

  Xamabo had relished Fernando’s embrace but, as the weeks passed, he grew anxious for a substantive discussion of Marien’s trading relationship with the sovereigns. Accompanied by Bakako, he advised Admiral that the time for meaningful discussion had come and asked for it to be arranged.

  Cristóbal discussed the request with Isabel and Fernando, indicating that he had no intent of establishing an exclusive trading relationship with Guacanagarí and likely would build the first intended settlement at another site. He reminded them that neither Guacanagarí nor the Indians brought to Spain appreciated that Cristóbal would be returning to Española with over a thousand men, including soldiers. The sovereigns understood and said they would give Xamabo kind assurances of friendship. Isabel let Fernando handle the tricky conversation, and Cristóbal summoned Xamabo and Bakako to meet with the king in the throne room.

  Fernando waved for the two Indians to enter and invited Xamabo to join him on the dais and sit where Cristóbal had sat. Through Bakako, Fernando and Xamabo pleasantly engaged in courtesies. Fernando inquired whether Castilian food was pleasing and what Xamabo ate in his homeland. After some moments, Fernando obliged his visitor with the audience requested.

  “My friend, it’s an honor we meet to discuss your Lord Guacanagarí’s relationship with myself and the queen.” Fernando let Bakako translate as best he could.

  “It is my honor, as well. My cacique Guacanagarí asks that you and the queen conduct your trade in the lands Admiral calls the ‘Indies’ through Guacanagarí. He can provide all the gold you seek.”

  “You may tell Lord Guacanagarí that we appreciate and recognize his generosity for harboring and protecting our subjects and will always remember and cherish that. The queen and I already consider the Lord Guacanagarí among our most faithful noblemen, and his allegiance to our sovereignty will always be reciprocated.” Fernando and Cristóbal watched Bakako translate and doubted that either Indian understood the nature of the intended relationship.

  Bakako translated, and Xamabo understood, something—at least enough to recognize that the conversation was tricky. Xamabo replied. “Guacanagarí welcomes your men so we may trade and promises his alliance to you and Queen Isabel to that end.” Bakako translated as best he could.

  Fernando studied Xamabo and paused, wondering whether Bakako’s words were carefully chosen or merely an expression limited to the extent of his Castilian vocabulary. Fernando recalled his meeting with the Canarian Fernando Guanarteme and their express discussions of that native’s vassalage to the Crown, and he shied from further discussion, reflecting that his troops were not yet on Española.

  Fernando stood. “On behalf of the queen and myself, we have special gifts for the Lord Guacanagarí and yourself.” A page stepped forward bearing two satin robes, their collars bedecked with jewels. Fernando helped Xamabo don his and remarked how grandly he appeared, and Xamabo understood the formal discussions were concluded.

  As Xamabo was ushered away, Fernando turned to Cristóbal. “I understand the Indian women go as naked as him. How do the men you’ve left there react to that?”

  “It concerns me, very much.” Cristóbal paused. “It alone is an important reason that I return promptly.” He saw Fernando understood.

  In early June, the sovereigns convened another solemn, public ceremony, this time for the Indians’ baptism. Bakako and Xamabo understood the ceremony was meant as the culmination of their religious instruction, and, as its day approached, the six Taínos discussed it among themselves.

  “They say we shall become the children of their Lord, united with their Christ spirit,” Bakako explained.

  “But I don’t trust their Christ spirit or his mother,” Abasu objected. “I trust Yúcahu, Attabeira, and our other spirits. I don’t want to participate.”

  Xamabo was uncomfortable. “We’re here to further Guacanagarí’s objective of trading with the caciques Fernando and Isabel. It’s important that we please them, particularly since they believe they are benefiting us by doing this.”

  “But what will Yúcahu think?” asked a Samanán.

  “Yúcahu won’t be jealous if you honor him as a superior to their Christ spirit,” Xamabo replied. “I will participate in the ceremony intending just that.”

  “Remember, the pale men say their spirits are the only spirits, and they view this baptism as accepting that,” Bakako interjected. “We shouldn’t reveal to them that we’ll continue to worship our spirits.”

  “I understand,” Abasu answered. “
But I’m not concerned with Yúcahu, who’ll always be there for us. I fear the Christ spirit himself— what will he do or design for us if we lie to him in this ceremony?”

  There was silence.

  Xamabo answered. “Yúcahu understands why we are here and what we need to do. He may not be pleased we honor the Christ spirit, but he will protect us from the Christ spirit. He is our spirit, not theirs. We must do what these men expect, but we can honor Yúcahu foremost, and Yúcahu will protect us.”

  The baptism was held before the sovereigns’ nobility, and Fernando, Isabel, and Prince Juan served as the Indians’ godparents. Xamabo was christened don Fernando de Aragón and Abasu don Juan de Castilla. Bakako, Cristóbal’s favorite, was christened Diego Colón, sharing the name of Cristóbal’s younger brother and elder son. Most onlookers, including Prince Juan’s fourteen-year-old page Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo, perceived the Indians received the baptism of their own free will.

  As they left the church, Xamabo quietly thanked the other five for their participation. “Now, you may consult Yúcahu and advise that you have not forsaken him.”

  CACIQUAL COUNCIL IN MAGUA

  As winter passed, Haiti’s paramount caciques received reports of the pale beings’ degenerating conduct in Guarico. Caonabó sought, and Guacanagarí resisted, a caciqual council to discuss the situation, and eventually Guarionex called it. Guacanagarí recognized his attempt to secure a trading advantage with the pale beings was a dismal failure—their conduct was inexcusable and worthy of the severest punishment. But he remained convinced it was an aberration and that upon Admiral’s return order and decency would be restored. He resolved not to defend what was occurring, but to argue that Admiral’s return would cure it and, regardless, that the other caciques had no authority to review a situation internal to Marien. He suspected the others remained jealous of his relationship with the pale beings regardless of their behavior.

  As he welcomed the caciques to Guaricano, Guarionex comported himself with a calmness designed to communicate that the concerns to be discussed were not dire and permitted thoughtful deliberation rather than a hasty decision. Anacaona arrived with Caonabó, suggesting that Caonabó did not intend a gritty denunciation of Guacanagarí and that she and her husband expected measured discourse, as well. Pineapple juice was served, and the caciques sat outside on duhos in the shade cast by Guarionex’s ceremonial bohío. Mayobanex brought an interpreter.

  “We all know the pale beings’ conduct is vile,” Guarionex said, opening the meeting. “We or our representatives all have met these men—let me call them that—and traded with them. While I wouldn’t have predicted their conduct would be so deplorable, I’m not surprised.” He turned to Guacanagarí. “The point of this meeting is to discuss what should be done in Marien by you. It’s your cacicazgo, but the presence of these men could affect us all. You should begin by explaining what has occurred so we can advise a solution.”

  “I thank Guarionex for hosting this council,” Behecchio interrupted. “I do want to hear Guacanagarí’s viewpoint. But first I want to express my displeasure with how you’ve proceeded, Guacanagarí. The rest of us met with these men to trade. But you invited them to stay. You should’ve consulted us before doing that.”

  “Behecchio, you misunderstand or distort,” Guacanagarí responded. “Unlike canoes, their vessels sink. One did sink, and they had no choice but to leave men with me before returning to their homeland. I never sought their presence, but I allowed them to remain and have assisted them. I wasn’t going to throw them in the sea. If their vessel had sunk off Xaraguá, would you have consulted me before you assisted them?”

  “You’re the one distorting. You’ve done more than come to their rescue. Your naborias helped them build a structure to store their weapons. You dispatched an emissary to their cacique, seeking an extended relationship.”

  “What would you have done differently, Behecchio?”

  Caonabó addressed Guacanagarí. “You have an utter mess on your hands. It’s too late to argue you knew what you were doing. The decision to allow a structure was premature and foolish, an invitation to stay permanently. Their presence could affect us all.”

  “If these men lived peacefully, as our peoples, they wouldn’t need a structure,” Anacaona added. “Guacanagarí, their treatment of women is crude and repugnant to every virtue of our people. You must recognize our women’s injury is injury to us all, and within the caciqual responsibility of all in this room.”

  “Quiet, my friends,” Guarionex interrupted softly and raised his hands, seeking to dissipate the passions brought to the meeting. “We will discuss these issues today. But first we must understand what has happened. Let’s begin by letting Guacanagarí tell us.”

  Guacanagarí related the vessel’s foundering and his meetings with the cacique Admiral, mentioning Admiral’s orders to his people to behave and the dismal leaders selected. He itemized the pale men’s faults, including their laziness and utter refusal to fish or farm for themselves, the lurid and inappropriate behavior with women and girls, the disrespect of Taíno spirits in favor of their Christ spirit, the insatiable lust for gold, and the dishonesty and vandalism. He observed that these traits were perhaps native to them, but that they had been restrained under good leadership. He mentioned the pale men fought among themselves often and that they had murdered one of their own.

  “In their relations with women, is there responsibility and care or any feeling beyond lust?” Anacaona asked.

  “This appears to vary by man. There are some who treat their women like wives. But most treat them as servants and concubines. Most are licentious, not caring for contact or relations beyond sex. Remember, they are seafarers, to some extent like our own. There have been no marriages, and I don’t foresee any.”

  “Do they worship their spirits with devotion?” Guarionex asked.

  “Admiral did, and most others appeared to when they first arrived. This, too, varies by man. But, as a whole, their worship of their so-called Christ spirit and his mother spirit has substantially declined. When they first arrived, they chanted multiple times daily and frequently sang together. They don’t do that anymore. From the beginning, they have denigrated Yúcahu and our spirits. Instinctively, they lust immoderately for women and gold. For the most part, Guarionex, they’re not spiritual as you and I would consider spiritual. It may be too harsh a judgment, but I think most of them are too crude to have a significant spiritual existence.”

  “That’s my impression,” Guarionex reflected.

  “They have fearsome weapons, far more powerful than our own,” Guacanagarí continued. “They wear smaller weapons on their body and store the more powerful ones in their structure. There are fewer than forty of them in total, and, regardless of their weaponry, I easily could direct my soldiers to kill them all if that becomes necessary— including as they sleep. But, in my view, it’s not necessary. I prefer to wait until Admiral returns to see if their ill behavior is then cured. If not, I will ask Admiral to leave, and to take all his men with him.”

  Behecchio raised his hands. “A decision that even a single pale man be allowed to remain on Haiti is for this council, given their weapons and conduct. Any future trade through a settlement of them would be for us all.”

  “Let’s spend more time understanding the situation.” Guarionex made his irritation evident and turned to Guacanagarí. “What makes you think their conduct will improve when their leader returns?”

  “He was a leader capable of enforcing discipline. The men have no leader now.”

  “I believe I met this leader,” said Mayobanex, speaking slowly in Taíno. All turned to him, surprised. He continued in Macorix, translated by his interpreter. “After meeting him, my own decision was to let him pass by without establishing a relationship. He seemed arrogant. He was pursuing, with an assuredness that he would find it, the Guanín and Matininó of our traditions, as well as a ‘Grand Kahn’ I’ve never heard of. He captured and presuma
bly enslaved four of my subjects. Worse, his men attacked my subjects with their weapons— which are superior—and wounded two of them, who have since died. I went to meet him on his vessel afterward, and he expressed no remorse whatsoever. He had the attitude of a would-be conqueror.”

  “Those aren’t the only captives taken,” Anacaona interjected. “There were Guanahaníans seized before he arrived Haiti. The pale men on the northern shore seized men and girls, and the girls were violated.” She gazed at Guacanagarí. “I understand there were also male and female captives from Cuba, whom were freed when the vessel sank.”

  Guarionex raised his eyebrows, and all listened. “Guacanagarí, you may be correct that their leader’s return will restore their civility. But Mayobanex’s observations hit upon the fundamental issue. What do you really understand of their leader’s intent? Does he intend to take the pale men left here back to their homeland? Does he intend to leave them in Guarico? Does he intend to bring more people to live with you or elsewhere in Haiti? Do they want more from Haiti than gold?”

  All observed Guacanagarí was uncomfortable with the questions. “My expectation is his people will remain if trading benefits us.”