Michener, James A. (9 page)

But when foot-soldier Melgosa saw him so mounted he became furious: 'Real men fight on foot. Cavalry is for show.' This was the contemptuous attitude which existed in all armies: the disdain of foot soldiers for the cavalry, and the reverse.

Because Garcilaco was now a horseman, his allegiance transferred to Captain Cardenas, and the more he studied this hot-tempered man the more he thought he understood the nature of honor. Cardenas was the junior son of a family bearing an exalted title, and this heritage constantly manifested itself, for he was contemptuous of inferiors, punctilious where his vanity was concerned, and eager to challenge anyone who even appeared to affront him. More than Melgosa, more than Coronado himself, Cardenas loved the brutality of army life, the forced marches, the sudden forays against lurking enemies, the swordplay at close quarters and the military companionship of the field. Much sterner than Fray Marcos, much more combative than Melgosa (who was content to fire his harquebuses from a distance if that would do the job), Cardenas became to Garcilaco the ideal Spanish fighting man, supplanting Cabeza de Vaca as his idol.

The army had marched some days when Garcilaco had his first opportunity to see how Spanish caballeros were supposed to behave. He was riding in company with Army-Master Lope de Samaniego, second-in-command, when that gallant warrior, much experienced in Indian fighting, was sent to a village to acquire supplies, and in pursuit of his duty, was struck by a stray arrow which penetrated his eye as he lifted the visor of his helmet. He died immediately, which Garcilaco accepted as something to be expected in warfare, but what happened next amazed him.

Following the orders of Cavalry-Officer Diego Lopez, who now

assumed Samaniego's command, Spanish soldiers rounded up as many Indians as they could, and a sergeant passed among them, saying: This one looks as if he might have come from that village,' and upon this casual identification the suspect was dragged away and hanged. When a long row of corpses swayed in the breeze, the army left, assured that the Indians of this area at least had learned not to shoot arrows at Spaniards.

The incident was important to Garcilaco in that when the esteemed post of army-master fell vacant, Coronado weighed the matter only a few moments before appointing Cardenas to fill it, and now the boy tended the twelve horses of the second-in-command, the bravest, wildest fighter of them all.

Shortly thereafter, Garcilaco discovered how his attitudes had changed, for a side expedition to what is now California was arranged under the direction of a real fighting man, Melchor Diaz, who was instructed to intercept a Spanish ship sailing up the coast with supplies for Coronado. Once Garcilaco had dreamed only of adventure on the Pacific, but now that he had a new opportunity to visit that great ocean he turned his back, for he wished to stay with Cardenas on his quest for honor.

As an advance party now entered upon those vast wastelands in what would later be Arizona, Garcilaco's fears for his father increased, because the boy knew that the friar's gross lies must soon be uncovered. And when horses began to die of exhaustion and men to faint from the burdens they bore, the leaders of the expedition began to glare at Marcos, as if to say 'Monk, where is this paradise you told us of?' And Coronado himself came to the rear, where Marcos had hidden: 'Good Friar, how many days to Cibola? We perish.' And as Garcilaco tended his horses nearby, he heard Marcos swear: 'Three more days, General. I promise.' And the bov shuddered, for he knew that the friar had not the slightest idea where they were.

But once more luck seemed to rescue Marcos from a crisis, for on 7 July 1540, one hundred and thirty-seven days after departing Compostela, a Spanish horseman riding well ahead wheeled his horse and came galloping back. 'Cibola! The Seven Cities! Yonder!'

All pressed forward, each wanting to be first among his fellows to see the golden cities, but when a group gained a prominence its members fell silent, and a vast sigh rose from the men as they saw the pitiful scene, a shabby collection of dirty houses, a mud-walled nothing.

'Madre de Dios!' Cardenas whispered.

Captain Melgosa, standing by the general, muttered: 'I've seen

[single houses in Castilla that were bigger than this and nche. no doubt.'

Finally Coronado spoke: 'Where is Fray Marcos 7 ' and when the trembling friar was dragged forth, the captain-general asked in a very low voice: 'Good Friar, is this what you saw? Is this your Cibola covered with turquoise and silver? Are these hovels bigger than in Mexico City?' And before Marcos could respond, the various captains began cursing and shouting: 'Send him back.' 'Get rid of this one.' 'He is a great liar and not to be trusted.'

But it was Cardenas who voiced the true complaint: 'I do not want this one praying over me, telling me what to do,' and Marcos would have been sent back that night except that he was needed for an important ritual without which the army could not proceed.

It was the Requerimiento (Requisition), issued decades earlier by King Ferdinand himself, who had laid down the basic edict that no Spanish army could attack an Indian settlement until this famous statement of religious principle had been recited 'in a loud, clear voice.'

It was a remarkable document, devised by the religious and civil leaders of Spain during the early years of conquest when thoughtful men struggled with the moral problem of how to deal with pagan Indians. Indeed, conquest itself had been halted for three years until agreement could be reached as to whether Indians were human or not. Finally, after much soul-searching, a statement was prepared and verified by churchmen and lawyers; it offered Indians, who were acknowledged as humans the blessings of Christianity and the protection of the crown, but only if acceptance was immediate. If the Indians hesitated, as they always did, conversion by the sword was justified.

Since the army was now within the shadow of Cibola, Coronado summoned Marcos to read the Requerimiento, but when the friar stepped forward to take the parchment, Cardenas objected strenuously: 'If he reads it, our enterprise will be cursed!' and he seized the document, handing it to another Franciscan, but Coronado intervened: 'Marcos is still the senior, let him proceed.' So the friar took the parchment, held it close to his face, and read aloud. But no Indian in the distant town could possibly have heard the muffled words, much less understood them even had they been audible.

It was just as well, because the Requerimiento was interminably long, with a jumbled theology which would confuse anyone not an ordained priest. It started by explaining how Adam and Eve launched the human race five thousand years ago and how different nations developed:

'Of all these nations God our Lord gave charge to one man, called St. Peter, that he should be Lord and Superior of all the men in the world, that all should obey him, and that he should be head of the whole human race to judge and govern all Christians, Moors, jews,

Gentiles and all other sects.'

The friar read on, explaining to the distant Indians how St. Peter had begun the line of popes who commanded the world, and of how a later pope had asked King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain for help in ruling certain areas. Then Marcos came to the two parts the soldiers understood: if the Indians immediately accepted the Holy Catholic Faith, great rewards would be forthcoming, but if they stubbornly refused:

i certify to you that, with the help of God, we shall forcibly enter your country and shall make war against you in all ways and manners

we shall take your wives and your children, and shall make slaves of them and shall do all the harm and damage that we can

and the deaths and losses which shall accrue from this will be your fault

Fray Marcos rolled up his parchment, returned it, and announced: The^ Requerimiento has been faithfully read. All can testify to that.' The generous offer of peace had been tendered, but there was no response.

'Friar,' Coronado asked, 'are we legally free to attack?' and Marcos replied so that all the captains could hear: 'Jesus Christ commands you to do so!' and battle began.

It was a violent encounter, and Coronado's bright suit of armor flashed in the sun so invitingly that the Indians on the city walls threw down huge chunks of stone that knocked him from his white horse, leaving him defenseless and immobile on the ground.

More rocks came crashing down and would have killed him had not Cardenas, in an act of spontaneous heroism, thrown himself across the fallen body and absorbed most of the blows. When Garcilaco saw this valiant act, he dropped down and shielded Coronado's head, and was struck by four rocks which otherwise could have brained the commander.

Bruised, cut in three places so badly that his bloody wounds were apparent to all, Garcilaco listened that night to one of the sweetest sounds a man can hear: praise for having behaved well in battle. 'He was as brave as a tested infantryman,' Melgosa cried, but the moment the boy cherished came when Cardenas, himself badly wounded, took his hand: 'I could not have saved him without

you.' When the boy was alone, he whispered to himself: 'Now I know what honor is.'

With Coronado confined to a litter because of his wounds, Cardenas assumed command, and his first decision was loudly voiced: 'Fray Marcos must leave this army Me contaminates it.' Melgosa wanted him shot, but Cardenas said contemptuously: 'Let him go. He carries his punishment with him '

From his sickbed Coronado accepted this recommendation and added: 'Let the boy go with him, whoever he is,' but now Cardenas became a defender: 'Captain, this boy helped save your life. And he's no liar, like his so-called father,' so it was agreed that Marcos must go but Garcilaco could stay.

This decision caused the boy much confusion, for he loved Fray Marcos and did not want to leave him in his hour of disgrace. 'I cannot fail him now,' he told Coronado, and the captain-general growled: 'Good. Go with him,' for he saw Garcilaco only as part of Fray Marcos and wished him gone, too.

But Cardenas and Melgosa were disgusted when they heard of the boy's decision, and they took him aside, with Cardenas saying bluntly: 'Loyalty is a fine thing, lad, but loyalty to a condemned man must be weighed carefully '

'It must indeed,' Melgosa agreed. 'Admit it. Your father is a fraud. He's led this great army into deep trouble, and it is proper that he be disgraced. But there are still battles to be fought, and Cardenas needs you for his horses, and perhaps I may need you. Your duty is here.'

To Garcilaco, honor was much simpler: 'I must stay with Marcos,' and he left the two officers, who called after him that he was being a fool. However, when Garcilaco reached his father, who was packing his mule for the long march back to Mexico City, Marcos took him in his arms, eyes wet with tears, and cried: 'I cannot let you damage your life. Stay with the army you have grown to love '

'Without you I'd have no army. I'm your son, and I shall stay with you.'

At these words Marcos clasped the boy tightly and sobbed: 'I've ruined everything. Did you hear the curses they heaped on me?' He stood clinging to Garcilaco, then said in hushed voice, as if he were seeing a vision: 'But the Cities are there. The walls of gold will be found, just as I said.' And with that he shouted: 'Army-Master Cardenas! Come take your little soldier!' and thrusting the boy away, he started his mournful exile.

Garcilaco was not given time to brood about Fray Marcos' disgrace, for as soon as Coronado recovered from his wounds he

dispatched an elite group of twenty-five to make a swift, galloping exploration of lands to the west, and Cardenas, in command, took j the boy along. Now Garcilaco had an opportunity to see what a masterful soldier Cardenas was, for he anticipated everything: where to find water, how many deer to kill for food, in what safe place to camp, i would like to be a soldier like you,' the boy said, [ and Cardenas smiled: Tou could never be an officer like me, but you could serve, and honorably.' When Garcilaco asked why he could not attain command, Cardenas told him truthfully: 'Command is reserved for those born in Spain.' He did not add 'Of white parentage,' but he intended the boy to catch that nuance of Spanish life.

Twenty hot and thirsty days later Garcilaco was riding ahead of the file when he stopped, gasped, and held up his hand to warn the others.

'Look!' he whispered, and when Cardenas drew up he said in reverence: 'Dear Jesus, you have worked a miracle.' And one by one the others moved into line, there at the edge of a tremendous depression, and fell silent. It was a moment of overwhelming discovery, a moment that no one could absorb or summarize in speech.

At their feet opened a canyon so grand, they knew of nothing with which to compare it. A mile deep, mile upon mile across, with a tiny ribbon of river wandering at the bottom, its walls were multicolored, shimmering with gold and red and blue and dancing green. Lovely trees, bent from the wind, adorned its rim and sometimes tried to creep down the sides, their tall crowns like tiny tips of fern, so far away they were. And as the afternoon sun moved across the deep gash of the canyon, it threw weird shadows upon pinnacles far below, and new colors emerged as if some great power were redecorating what was already a masterpiece.

'A miracle!' Cardenas gasped. 'God has prepared this wonder to show us His power.' They had discovered the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, and Garcilaco felt himself growing inches taller when Army-Master Cardenas said with affection, as he ruffled the boy's hair: 'Remember, this one found it. Let's christen it El Canon de Garcilaco.' There was cheering, but in the midst of the celebration the boy looked eastward, for he could not forget that the true adventure still waited there, in what Cabeza had described as the land of many lands.

Cardenas and his swift-marching men required three months for this trip to the canyon, and when they rejoined the main party they found that it had acquired a stranger, to whom

Garcilaco took an instant dislike. Tins man, in his thirties, was a good-looking Indian whose height, facial tattooing and turban headdress identified him as belonging to some tribe far from Cibola, perhaps a Pawnee from north and east. He had been captured by the Zurii of Cibola in a raid years ago and was now a slave, except that he seemed more clever than those who held him. He had a glib manner, a sly, knowing look, and Garcilaco often saw him calculating how to play this white captain off against that Indian chief, and it was clear that he did not propose to stay a slave indefinitely.