‘No,’ said Columbus, ‘for I have toiled for years researching and planning every detail. There will the danger of the unknown, but what is a life worth without some adventure in it? And the sea beckons to me to sail out upon her breast and explore her mysteries.’
His sentiments chimed with my own, and I think he recognized that. We spent the rest of the voyage in each other’s company, and he told of his past expeditions and his dream of finding new countries. He asked me about myself, and I found myself telling him some of my life story. I left out the part about the manner of my father’s death and my desire to hunt down his killer.
Columbus looked at my maps and gave me a few coins in exchange for permission to take notes from some of them. But in the main they were of little use to him. Captain Cosimo’s maps were of the type known as portolan maps, Columbus explained, which show only the view of land as seen from the sea, with mountains and other features marked so that a captain sailing in inshore waters might work out his location. Some of the maps Columbus had were of a different kind, as if viewed from above. They showed the seas of the known world, its countries, cities and towns. The person who’d made them must pretend to be a great bird or a god who can hover high in the sky above the seas and the Earth and observe all that is below.
Columbus had spent time in Portugal, trying without success to persuade the authorities there to invest in his expedition. Now he was pursuing sponsorship with Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand and had more solid hopes of their support. He had been told that his application would be considered by a committee of learned men at the Spanish court. At present he was on a trip to explore the possibility of using the Spanish port at Las Palmas in Gran Canaria as a final stop before sailing west. He’d already sailed south along the African coast in the company of the Portuguese, hoping to reach the end of the continent and find a way round to reach India and the Far East. But so far all who’d done so had not reached the end of land to the south.
‘Africa is infinitely larger than any cartographer has projected so far,’ Columbus told me.
‘Is it worth exploring in itself?’ I asked him.
He told me stories of his journey along the west coast of the huge continent, where the colours of the waves flash the iridescent blue of a kingfisher and there are waterfalls so high that they look as though they fall from the door of Heaven. I was both excited and afraid to hear of lands where magical horned beasts roamed and it was rumoured that men ate other men for food. Natives would run onto the beach when they saw a ship passing to wave spears in the air and chant in previously unheard languages. Sometimes they put out in long boats to trade foodstuffs and fresh water. There Columbus had eaten fruit and plants unseen in Europe. My own senses awakened as he spoke. He was a magnificent storyteller. He’d read the diaries of Marco Polo and other explorers and recounted their tales of finding hoards of gemstones, pearls and amber, mingling these with his own experiences. In the evenings I sat on deck with the sails spread full-bellied above me, listening to him and watching his animated face, eyes shining in the light from the ship’s lantern; and I ached to go off exploring.
But Columbus’s main interest lay to the west, where the rolling ocean stretched to infinity. Beyond it lay the furthest ends of the Earth, and who knew what was waiting to be discovered in those extremities? I’d heard they were peopled by demons who’d escaped the realms of the underworld by using their enormous hooked claws to climb up into our world. They roamed these faraway waters in the company of grotesque sea creatures and fish of gigantic proportions with jagged teeth and stinging tentacles. These were capable of squirting poison into a man’s eyes, so that his face and body turned black within minutes and he died screaming in agony. Most of the crew believed that it was madness to venture too far in that direction. Despite their taunts and warnings, Christopher Columbus was determined to navigate his way through these perils.
When questioned or challenged, he would tilt his head, and with an expression that was a mixture of zeal and determination, declare: ‘The world is round. I can – no, I will find the way to the east by sailing west.’
Chapter Twenty-five
Zarita
PAPA CAME TO visit me in the convent hospital.
My aunt had insisted on taking me there when I became ill with a fever the doctor could not name. She’d wanted to nurse me personally and dismissed his suspicions that I might have the Plague; I was exhausted and required rest, she declared. She tended me like a sick baby, spooning food into my mouth and listening quietly to my emotional outpourings.
‘You are suffering delayed grief for the loss of your mother,’ she told me plainly. ‘To lose a mother at any time in your life is a dreadful blow, but as you were on the cusp of womanhood it has affected you very deeply. And’ – Aunt Beatriz struggled to express herself without sounding critical of another person – ‘your father’s decision to remarry so quickly has made it extremely difficult for you to find an outlet for this emotion.’ She shivered. ‘Added to which there was the disturbance of our recent visitors.’
I assumed that she meant Father Besian. ‘Bartolomé is no longer the happy boy I once knew,’ I said sadly. ‘I doubt if he will ever recover.’
‘With God’s good grace he will.’ Aunt Beatriz kissed my forehead. ‘And so will you.’
Now, a few weeks later, I was well enough to be taken to sit with my aunt in her parlour when Papa came and stood before me.
‘I hear that you are almost well again, Zarita,’ he said. ‘However, I do not think that you can return to my house.’ He spoke stiffly, not meeting my gaze.
‘Papa!’ I reached for his hand as I tried to rise from my chair but he moved away from me.
‘It’s better this way,’ he went on. He addressed himself to my aunt. ‘I will endow the convent with money. You may name an amount.’
My aunt tried to meet his eye but he looked away from her too. ‘When I accept a novice here it is not a question of money,’ she said. ‘To become a nun a woman should have a true vocation. She must know her own mind. Zarita is very young.’
‘Tsk!’ Papa made a sound of annoyance. ‘Many girls are married and are indeed mothers by her age. I have indulged my daughter in her waywardness, but now is the time to settle things and—’
‘What are you speaking of?’ I looked from one to the other in bewilderment. ‘Is it my future you discuss?’
‘I want you to be safe and secure,’ Papa said firmly. ‘I understand that you might have an aversion to marriage, and this is the only place where I can be assured that you will be taken care of.’
‘No!’ I cried out, for I didn’t want to be walled up inside a convent, even though my aunt and her helpers seemed happy here. The thought of being unable to go freely wherever and whenever I chose, to be denied the joy of walking under the moon at night instead of retiring early to bed – of riding my horse, of singing and dancing when I pleased – horrified me. ‘I have no aversion to marriage,’ I told Papa.
I was thinking that I could wed Ramón: if that happened, then I’d have my own household and some finances to manage. Even a small amount of money would allow me a measure of independence. Papa would have to give me a sizeable dowry. Although of aristocratic lineage, Ramón’s family, like that of Lorena and many of the nobles, had no funds. This was why Lorena had come questing after an older man with money. She had position and a place in society by dint of her father’s name, but couldn’t afford new dresses or jewellery without access to my papa’s money. If Papa himself could marry, then he could easily afford to pay for my wedding.
‘Let me be married.’
‘To whom will you be married, Zarita?’ Papa asked me coldly.
‘Why, to Ramón Salazar,’ I said. ‘We have an understanding.’ I paused as I realized that over the last months Ramón had avoided discussing any plans for our future together.
‘Ramón Salazar—’ Papa began.
My aunt touched my father’s sleeve. ‘Be gentle, good brot
her, Don Vicente. Zarita has no inkling of recent events.’
‘Of what do I have no knowledge?’ I asked them. ‘What are you saying?’
Impatiently Papa brushed my aunt’s hand away. ‘That’s exactly what I mean. The girl should be a woman now and yet she behaves like a child. And it is my fault – yes, I admit that. I made a pet of her.’ He turned and looked at me, heartache and regret showing on his face. ‘I listened to your mama and I spoiled you, and for that I am sorry. It means I protected you too much, and now you are ignorant of the ways of the world.’
‘Tell me what I should know,’ I said, my breath now coming more rapidly.
Papa spoke brutally. ‘The family of Ramón Salazar want nothing more to do with you.’
‘That can’t be true,’ I replied. ‘Ramón looked at me in a certain way. He still speaks to me . . . frequently.’
It was my turn to falter, for now that it was said out loud I saw that I had to admit to noticing that Ramón had cooled in his attitude to me. ‘I see in his eyes . . .’ I began.
‘What you see in his eyes is desire, the way any man would desire a woman as beautiful as you are.’ My papa spoke more softly. ‘But even if he did hold some affection for you, his family will not permit the marriage now.’
‘Why not? They didn’t object before.’
‘We agreed on an end to any negotiation,’ Papa hesitated and then went on, ‘and I was not unhappy about this. They cited economies and inconvenience. Ramón has gone to the court to be with his uncle, who is in charge of troops taking part in the siege outside Granada, which is where the queen and king hope to finally crush the Moors.’
‘Why would Ramón leave without bidding me farewell? He sent no letter. Why would his family change their mind when it was them who so eagerly sought my hand for their son?’
‘You are despoiled, child.’ Again Papa could not face me as he spoke. ‘The assault of the beggar in the church makes you a less attractive prospect. That’s why I tried to arrange something else. Don Piero said he would welcome a companion. He knew of the assault on your person but believed you were an innocent victim.’
‘But I was!’ I gasped. I recalled Don Piero insisting earnestly that he believed I was a good person. I hadn’t picked up the inference that there was any doubt about that. ‘It isn’t right that a woman’s reputation can be brought down by the actions of another. In any case, the beggar barely touched me!’
Papa shook his head. ‘You mustn’t try to change the story now that it stands in the way of something you want. The damage is done.’
‘There was no damage done to me,’ I said desperately. ‘I tried to explain this to you at the time, but you wouldn’t listen. You were so grief-stricken at losing Mama and the baby—’
Papa held up his hand. ‘Stop!’ he ordered me. ‘The particulars are of no consequence, Zarita. You suffered an assault upon your person. It has changed your personality. It’s made you say and do things you wouldn’t have done before – make threats and strike out at people. The situation is now so serious that you cannot be allowed to roam free as you once did. It’s for your own safety that you must be contained somewhere.’ Then he added, ‘And for the safety of others.’
‘This cannot be!’ I said.
‘It can and it is,’ Papa said grimly. ‘I’ve made a decision and I will not be moved on it. You cannot marry. You cannot come home. Don’t you see? There is nothing else for it, Zarita. You must be shut up in the convent.’
Chapter Twenty-six
Saulo
WE SAILED PAST the island in the bay of Las Palmas and tied up at the dockside. This new settlement of Castile was a loose arrangement of streets and alleys, with a small church, an army barracks, some official-looking buildings and market stalls surrounded by more substantial houses and trading units.
Christopher Columbus had letters of introduction to the governor of the island, and on presenting these he was given an apartment. He offered me hospitality until such time as the ships were ready to leave and we might gain passage back to Spain.
‘A renowned cartographer and cosmographer has made his home here and I intend to seek him out. I suspect the sea is in your blood, Saulo, so you might want to come with me when I visit him. It would benefit you to acquire more knowledge of the stars and shipping lore.’
The first thing I had to sort out was how to acquire some Spanish identity papers. This proved remarkably easy. Christopher Columbus vouchsafed that I’d been on a ship flying the Spanish flag, and that it had been wrecked by an act of enemy aggression and my possessions lost. The governor ordered new documents drawn up for me, and because I had some goods belonging to the freeman rower who’d befriended me, I could pass myself off as a member of his family. Thus I became Saulo de Lomas. When the governor’s clerk paused at the section marked ‘occupation’, Columbus leaned forward and said, ‘Write down Master Mariner.’
As I gathered up my papers and left the offices, Columbus slapped my back and said cheerfully, ‘With me as your patron, Saulo, a master mariner is what you will be.’
And so I spent the next seven months or so under the tutelage of Christopher Columbus. He taught me the rudiments of Latin and Greek and Arabic that I might better understand ancient and modern texts on celestial information. I read extensively: both through the books in the governor’s library but also Columbus’s collections – a huge variety of materials relating to exploration and the sea. He’d studied the works of the English traveller Sir John Mandeville, who wrote of the existence of monsters, and also the less fanciful tales of Marco Polo. He had a multitude of charts and maps, garnered mainly during his time spent in Portugal. He showed me letters of encouragement from respected professors and mapmakers in different countries, such as the famous Florentine doctor, Toscanelli. These bolstered his self-belief and enthusiasm. I began to realize that Christopher Columbus was not the madman or dreamer that Captain Cosimo and others thought him. He had a vision, but his ideas for its practical application were grounded in accrued facts and learned skills.
When we’d been on board the Spanish ship, Columbus had made notes on the currents of both water and air, perfecting his calculations about the gyre of winds that blow westwards on the latitude of the Canary Islands and return eastwards to Europe above the Azores. Now he hired a dhow, and we spent the summer and autumn sailing offshore around the northern waters of Gran Canaria, testing the tides and wind velocity. He showed how it was possible to know the position of your ship upon the ocean by measuring the height in degrees of the Sun by day and the North Star at night.
‘We use a quadrant, but the ancient Arabs learned to navigate using a kamal – a piece of wood and a length of knotted string.’
It wasn’t Columbus’s first visit to the Canaries. He told me he’d already travelled as far west as had ever been charted, to the Azores and Cape Verde islands. The inhabitants there had shown him seed pods that they’d collected from their beaches. Columbus was convinced they were from plants not known to the western world. The islanders described to him the facial features of bodies washed ashore: the men were not similar to any race on this side of the Ocean Sea.
As our friendship developed, he trusted me enough to let me look at the secret maps he intended to use for crossing the Ocean Sea. These were unlike anything I’d ever seen. The known world and the projected world were combined, with both land and sea drawn upon a grid-like pattern with lines of longitude and latitude. He referred to latitude as the ‘altura’, and had notebooks with lists of these reckonings made for the ports in all discovered territories.
‘If we go far enough south, the North Star will disappear below the horizon, so it becomes essential to find your position by using the Sun. Then it’s necessary to make adjustments to accommodate the Sun’s varying position in the sky during the changing seasons.’
As if a sea mist was rolling back, I saw that in this way one didn’t need to hug the coastline to navigate accurately. It could also be done with a reason
able level of certainty in open uncharted waters. Even without the best navigational instruments, an aptitude in using dead reckoning would mean that you could return to a previous position with some degree of accuracy.
Columbus was watching my face as I made this discovery.
‘The Portuguese have known about this for years,’ he said. ‘And now, not only do I have this functional knowledge . . .’ He tapped his head. ‘Inside here I have the learning of the ancients and the wisdom of the best minds of our day!’
Late one night he took me to visit the cartographer he’d already conferred with. The man was an Arab, and his shop was in a back street near the docks. As we entered, Columbus murmured a greeting in Arabic and the old man replied equally quietly. They made a sign to each other as I wandered among the shelves and peered at ancient parchments, old scrolls and leather-bound books with hinged and locked corded bindings. The shopkeeper went outside and looked up and down the street, then shuttered the window, re-entered the shop, and closed and locked the door.
‘Come this way,’ he said. Drawing aside a heavy curtain threaded with red and green, he ushered us through to his private room.
The Arab opened a chest and lifted out an object wrapped in a velvet cloth. When he removed the covering, it was revealed to be a large ball made of wood with the outline of the lands and seas of the known world painted on it. Columbus took it in his hands and examined it carefully.
‘Look, Saulo,’ he said, his voice reverberating in excitement. ‘The first depiction ever made of the world as a globe!’
I followed the direction of his finger as it traced a line from the Canary Islands, where we now were, all the way across the Atlantic to where the Arab cartographer had begun to sketch the unknown dreamed-of coastline of far Cathay.
‘Yes,’ Columbus breathed. ‘This is exactly what I want. With this I will convince the King and Queen of Spain and their many advisers that my plan is feasible.’
Prisoner of the Inquisition Page 12