by Shirl Henke
Guacanagari stepped onto an elaborately woven hemp litter, which was decorated with shells, bones, bits of gold and copper, and some of the tinkling hawk's bells the fleet had brought in trade. Half a dozen young. men, chosen specially for the honor, lifted the wooden poles and bore their cacique aloft. He waved to Aaron. “Please, come with us to greet your admiral. You, who have learned our language so well, you may speak for me.”
“You do me honor, Guacanagari,” Aaron replied with a smile. “Many of your people have learned Castilian far better than I Taino.”
“You are too modest, but come and let us see if my people who sojourned on your great canoas have learned as much of your speech as you have of ours.”
Aliyah now came forward. “I will supervise the preparation of a great feast for your admiral.”
Aaron took her hand and raised it to his lips. “He will be greatly pleased.”
When the welcome party reached the cove, the Santa Maria and Nina bobbed in the water as a boat bearing the admiral made for shore.
Colon walked through the shallow surf with the dignity of command he always possessed, followed by Vicente Pinzón and a group of officers and seamen. Cristobal's face bore a look of amazement as he inspected Aaron, who had come ahead of the slowly moving litter bearers and the cacique. “You are growing darker than your Indians, my friend.”
Aaron's teeth flashed whitely in his bronzed face. “I fear to offend your sensibilities, but all of me is as sun-kissed. I like the Taino's habits of dress.”
“Then we must spirit you aboard ship before you become so dark that a Portuguese slaver will capture you when we return home.”
Aaron's eyes swept the cove. “Where is Martin Alonzo and Pinta?” He noted Vicente's embarrassed flush even before Colon spoke.
“The captain of Pinta was separated from us on the twenty-first of November. We have no trace of her and fear the worst.” The admiral's pale eyes were darkened slate blue with anger held in check. Obviously he felt the departure was deliberate, and it was in direct disobedience of orders. “We will speak more of this later. For now, you must tell me how your journey here was accomplished. Has the chief gold? Knows he of the great Khan on the mainland?”
Aaron shrugged, feeling helpless in the face of his friend's hopes—hopes he feared were bound to be dashed. All the Majesties wanted was a route to swift riches—gold, pearls, spices, all the fabled wealth of the East. “These people know of no great mainland where the Khan resides, Cristobal,” he began gently. “At least, in as much as I have been able to learn since coming to this, their home island. There is great wealth here—rich, fertile land to cultivate, exotic and wondrous fruits that grow wild on trees and bushes, water teaming with fish. There is some gold,” he added when Colon's expression grew bleak. “I myself have seen men of Guacanagari's village return from gathering expeditions with it. They wash it from the rivers of the interior. What is here is not so great as what Polo described, but these are far outlying islands.”
“Yes,” Colon replied, rubbing his freshly shaven chin in consideration. “We charted hundreds of islands and followed one vast coastline far to the northeast of here. I hoped it to be part of the mainland, but all we found were more people who spoke the tongue of these people. They called the place Cuba. I named it Juana in honor of the Infanta. It may take years to chart the vastness of the Indies.” The blue flame had returned to his eyes now.
Luis Torres, aboard the second boat with Juan de la Cosa and several others, quickly ran up to his compatriot. “Aaron! How happy I am to see you,” he said in the Taino language.
“I see you have put your Taino guide to good use as a teacher,” Aaron said, clapping his small, dark-haired friend on the back as he replied in the same tongue.
Luis smiled at the Taino who had journeyed with him. Analu was as short as the Spaniard, but of a far stockier, more muscular build.
The native's square blunt-featured face bore a placid expression belying the keen intelligence that shone in his liquid brown eyes. “You, too, have learned our speech well,” Analu replied in careful Castilian, smiling proudly as Aaron bowed politely to him.
“Analu has been a splendid teacher and pupil. He has all but mastered the rudiments of Castilian in little over two short months.” Luis scanned the Taino entourage entering the open beach area. Laughing, he added, “I think your teacher far more comely than mine, you fortunate rascal. Where is the lovely Aliyah?”
“At the village. Wait until you see the feast in our honor—and the village. Mayhap three thousand souls. The streets are wide and straight, the houses clean and comfortable. The food—well, only wait,” Aaron said to Luis and the admiral, who watched as the cacique's litter was ceremoniously lowered to the sand close by.
Walking over to stand by his new friend, Guacanagari, Aaron made the official introductions, acting as chief interpreter with Luis and Analu assisting him. Through them, the cacique and the admiral extended all courtesies to each other. There would be great feasting in the village this night.
* * * *
Aaron awakened, hearing cries in Castilian and Taino echoing across the great plaza. “Shipwreck!” One of the two remaining vessels had run aground. How could such a thing have happened? “I must go with the others to help my admiral, Aliyah,” he said as Caonu rushed into their bohio to describe the catastrophe which had befallen during the night. Already faint pink and gold hazed the eastern sky.
As he dressed, he felt her eyes on him. She did not speak, only waited unhappily for him to tell her what he would do. He walked over to where she, lay on the raised sleeping platform, the bed where they so often had made love. Kneeling, he took her face between his hands and gazed into her eyes. Thick, shiny tears trickled from the corners. He wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. “Please, do not cry. I must go to aid Cristobal. I do not know what his plans will be with this-new misfortune.”
“His plans will take you far from me, never to return,” she said bitterly.
“I will return, Aliyah. This I swear by my God and the zemis of your ancestors.”
She smiled weakly. “My zemis are strong, but they are not your gods. Your people have many—the Cristo your admiral speaks of is not the god of your family. By what god of the white men do you swear, Aaron?”
“I have told you enough of religious strife in the Spains to confuse you,” he replied. “I am not certain that there is so much difference. You call Him by many names. Christians say He is Three in One—this Cristo, His Father, and the Holy Spirit. My ancestors call Him Jehovah, the Moors call Him Allah. Perhaps to each people He appears as their own. There is only one thing I do know. No one should be forced to convert from one belief to another. I mislike the strife across the ocean, Aliyah. Let Christian, Jew and Moor battle there. I will return here when my duty is done.” Saying the words, Aaron suddenly realized that they were true and knew he would return.
When they reached the beach, the wind was blowing lightly, but chaos reigned as if a great gale were roaring. The Santa Maria had run aground, bow down while the incoming surges of ocean waves smashed her repeatedly against the hard coral reef, punching holes in the wooden hull. The pumps had already been abandoned and the heavy main mast cut down to lighten the sinking vessel. The admiral was only buying time for the frantic crew to unload her supplies. Both ships' boats ferried back and forth with food, weapons, wine casks, and all the goods aboard the dying nao.
Aaron could see Colon's tall figure on the quarterdeck as he shouted orders to men who raced about, carrying trunks and barrels amidships where they were handed down to waiting boats. By now several of the Taino's larger dugouts had joined the rescue effort and were ferrying goods to the beach. Jumping aboard one canoa, Aaron took up a paddle and rowed with the Indian crew as if born to it.
Once aboard Santa Maria he rushed to the ladder and climbed to the badly listing quarterdeck. “How in all hell did this happen?” Immediately he suspected foul play and felt guilty for remaining
in the village instead of returning to the ship.
Colon, barking orders to a gromet, turned to him and cried out over the din, “That dung heap Cosa fell asleep at his watch! The boy holding the tiller knew not we were aground until the bow was well sunk. Even so we could have saved her, but Cosa and his men disobeyed my direct orders to take the ship's boat out with anchor and cable and sink the anchor so we could then pull the nao off the reef. Instead, he and his Basques rowed straightway to Nina! Vicente refused to let them board. But by the time he ordered them back here and sent his own ship's boat to assist us, it was too late. The tides had done their work.”
“I should have been here,” Aaron said with an oath. “I would have threatened to blow Cosa and his Basques to hell if they disobeyed.”
Colon shrugged in resignation. “Cosa was so terrified it would have meant naught. We would only have lost the ship's boat to the scrap iron shot from the swivel gun! I will deal with him later.”
Adopting his commander's philosophical attitude, Aaron said with a grin, “You never liked this big nao anyway. We will do better without her. Let us get all stowed ashore and then treat with the mutinous cur.”
By that evening all was safely on the beach, thanks in large measure to the assistance of the Tainos. “A rotten way to spend the Feast of our Lord's birth, eh?” one gromet muttered to another as they hauled the last cask of wine ashore.
Aaron, overhearing, realized that he had forgotten it was indeed Christmas day. Bone-weary, he leaned against a stack of crates and let his thoughts travel across the ocean. What would his family be doing this day? No doubt attending mass at the cathedral with all other dutiful New Christians. Suddenly an image floated into his mind's eye, of Magdalena's deep russet hair veiled with white-lace, kneeling beside his father. He shook his head to dispel it.
“Are we to attend the admiral aboard Nina now that all is completed here?” Luis asked, interrupting Aaron's musings.
“Guacanagari has done us much honor and we must rely on him to safeguard men and stores until we return. We are to request that he accompany us to the caravel and sup with the admiral,” Aaron replied.
And so the young cacique sat at the head of a great canoa as it approached the Nina. Ever aware of the obligations of courtesy and of how much they owed Guacanagari, Colon had him brought aboard with full ceremonial honors befitting European royalty.
Night fell and the moon rose. After much feasting and reveling, rejoicing that all men and provisions had been saved, the Taino chief and his village elders made ready to leave the caravel. At a tacit signal, all withdrew from Guacanagari and Aaron, and the two tall men stood alone on the deck.
“You go far across the ocean now, to bring your great rulers word of us. I send many fine presents to show the friendship of the Taino. Also six of my men, to learn your ways and explain ours to your people. In return I ask only that you come back to me, my friend. You and your admiral.” Tears filled Guacanagari's eyes as he spoke, for the Taino were an emotional people and quite unashamed of displaying either affection or sorrow.
Aaron felt his own throat tighten. “We will return. Have we not left many of our sailors, even a man of the royal court with you as our pledge?”
“I will guard your people well and help them search for more gold. They may journey with my men in gathering it high in the mountains.”
Aaron's brow furrowed. “Better that they should do as your people do—first plant the seeds we have left with them, then once food is assured, let them search for gold.” He hesitated, not certain how to phrase his caution. He met the young cacique's gaze squarely and said, “I give you warning. Those of my race often want more than they possess.” He stumbled in his speech as there was no word in the Taino language for greed. “Do not let them take all the gold your people find. You need it to trade with other people to the west.”
“We have all we need for pleasant life. The yellow metal is pretty, but so is the singing charm.” He held up a small hawk's bell and let it tinkle, smiling. “We will watch over those who have been forced to stay behind because of the loss of your great ship. Have a swift journey across the great water. We will pray to the most powerful zemis in our temple and to the three gods your admiral has spoken of. You will return safely to us.”
“I leave my love with you and Aliyah, my friend,” Aaron said, embracing Guacanagari.
Colon stood on the quarterdeck above them, watching the cacique and his men depart in the canoa. A troubled expression crossed his face as Aaron climbed the ladder.
“You could remain on Española if you wish,” the admiral said softly.
“I thank you for the consideration, but Cosa and his pack of cowardly curs need a marshal to watch them.”
“Duty always, Diego?” Cristobal said with a sad smile. “I appreciate your loyalty. Truly this voyage home with no companion ships troubles me, even if Cosa and his Basques were not aboard. We have much coastline of this vast island yet to chart as we head eastward and out into the Atlantic. Mayhap the Pinta will yet reappear.”
“Then I know you will have need of a fleet's marshal,” Aaron said grimly. He looked to the east and added, “Also, I would tell my family of this wondrous place.”
The admiral nodded in understanding. “I have an old sailor's intuition, Diego. Both my sons—and yours as yet unborn—will one day call these islands home.”
Chapter Nine
Palos, March 15, 1493
The crowd at the waterfront was rowdy, curious, and jubilant that the two caravels of their city had returned safely from the Indies. Separated at sea in a fierce gale, a miracle had brought Nina with the Genoese admiral and Pinta with their own Martin Alonzo Pinzon up the Rio Tinto on the very same tide! Nina had been held some weeks by the Portuguese king and Pinta had first landed in Galicia, on the far north coast of Castile, but both ships were now in home port.
When three men wearing black robes and white capes, bearing aloft the large green cross of the Inquisition, walked toward the Nina, the crowd quickly dispersed. A heavily armed retinue of a dozen horsemen stood guard at the river's edge while the Dominicans walked the narrow planking to the ship.
“Look you, they go after the Genoese and his Jews. Martin Àlonzo Pinzón has already departed for his home in the country. They will not bother the crew of Pinta,” one old sailor said, spitting through rotted teeth.
“Hah,” scoffed a fat old washerwoman carrying a heavy basket of damp clothes, “What of his brother Vicente? He is aboard Nina with the foreigner.”
Murmurs from the remnants of the welcoming crowd were low and nervous. No one liked seeing Inquisitors in Palos. Only the most bold remained lounging about the riverfront.
Aboard the Nina, Cristobal Colon, Admiral of the Ocean Sea, sat at the small wooden table in the captain's quarters, his log book and other letters scattered about him. He was red-eyed with exhaustion and his bones ached from the bitter cold of the storm-tossed Atlantic crossing. He looked levelly at the fat Dominican, Gabriel Osario, and said, “I have much to prepare while I await a summons before the Majesties in Barcelona. What possible reason can you have for boarding a royally commissioned vessel?”
Unused to such arrogance and calm in the face of his office, the Inquisitor said, “We have just heard you shelter heretics, strange Moorsmen from the Indies, aboard your ship.”
Colon's eyes narrowed and he rubbed the quill he had been writing with against his cheek. “Who could possibly have told you this?”
Fray Jorge Gonzalo smiled serenely and crossed himself. “We had occasion to stop at a small country house just a short way from Palos. Your Captain Martin Alonzo Pinzon told us of these Indians, who are surely heretic. 'Twas his deathbed wish that we interrogate them.”
“Deathbed wish? Captain Pinzon was ill and weary as am I, but surely he did not die?” the admiral asked steadily.
Fray Gabriel intoned, “Within the hour of our visit. We gave him the Holy Unction.” When the admiral's face betrayed a hin
t of a smile, the Inquisitor sputtered, “Surely you do not rejoice in the death of a friend?”
“No, never would I rejoice in the death of a friend,” Colon repeated with gravity. So the crafty troublemaker was dead. “You may see the men of the Indies I brought back with me, but as they are now the property of the Majesties, they are exempt from your power.”
“Besides which, they speak no Castilian,” Aaron added as he stood in the doorway. Having overheard that hated agents of Torquemada were aboard the caravel, he had hastened to Colon's quarters.
Fray Gabriel turned to the tall blond gentleman. “Who might you be?”
“My marshal,” the admiral said, “Don Diego Torres.” He gave Aaron a quelling look, then suggested, “Perhaps you might like to bring me one of those small tokens from Guacanagari. I will present the Holy Office with a symbol of good will.”
The gold. They had brought a large chest of gold objects, masks, tools, and girdles, as a special gift from the cacique to the king and queen. Smiling ironically, Aaron quit the cabin and went below decks to the locked bin in the hold where the gold had been stored, along with the marshal's armament. A bribe for the Holy Office was a small enough sacrifice to keep the Taino visitors safe.
“Torres, a common enough name. He is not a New Christian, any relation to Benjamin Torres of Seville, is he, perchance?” Fray Gabriel asked Colon.
The hair on the back of the Genoese's neck prickled in warning as he looked at the oily, fat friar whose eyes glowed feral cunniing. “No, Diego is from Cordoba, where my younger son and his mother reside. Why do you ask?”
Fray Jorge's yellow teeth were overlong and pointed when he smiled. “Our holy Inquisitor General, Fray Tomás, burned the whole family of Benjamin Torres last August. They were judaizers.”