VOYAGE OF STRANGERS (13 page)

“I am very glad to meet you, Señor Cristobal.” Rachel bobbed in a quick curtsy, which made Cristobal grin with pleasure. “I hope that you will tell me of your home.”

“My home is what you Christians call paradise,” Cristobal said, “and I long to see it again, though I fear I will die before I see the cave on the mountain where our people were born or eat the sacred bread again. The
cemi
cannot hear my words from here, so far across the great water.”

“We are not Christians,” Rachel said.

“Ah, yes, your brother has told me. You are of the people your
caciques
have sent away or killed, as they will the Taino before long.”

“Why do you say the King and Queen will kill the Taino?” Rachel asked. “How do you know?”

“I have seen it, little sister,” Cristobal said. “As you can see, they have already started.” He held out his arms so we could see how the skin fell away from his bones. “What will happen if they learn our own gods remain in our hearts? Will they nail us to a dead tree like their God?”

“They will give us to the fire,” I said. So there would be no misunderstanding the gravity of our position, I added, “
Barbacoa
,” their word for grilling meat.

“While still we live?” Cristobal looked horrified.

“It is an abomination,” I said for him, as I didn’t think he knew the word.

“We have seen it,” Rachel said. “They think our religion is evil, because it is not theirs.”

“They think we Taino have none,” Cristobal said. “They will not listen when we try to tell them of the
cemi
, of Yucahu and Atabey. These are our gods.”

“As we have Adonai,” Rachel said, “whom we also call Ha’shem. We have only one God, but He is all-powerful.”

“In what land does he rule?” Cristobal inquired.

Rachel looked blank, then said, “He is everywhere.”

Cristobal’s raised brows and crooked smile betrayed his skepticism.

“Our homeland was Zion,” I said, “but we were driven out long, long ago and have been wanderers ever since.” It was time to put an end to this theological discussion. “We must bid you good day, Cristobal. I have work to do, and Rachel comes with me.”

“I have enjoyed your company.” Cristobal looked sad.

Rachel stepped forward and gave him an impulsive kiss on the cheek.

“I shall return and talk to you whenever I can,” she told him.

“That will make me happy,” he said as I led her away.

We found Archdeacon Fonseca conferring with a gentleman I had not met before. 

“Ah, young Mendoza!” the Archdeacon greeted me. “I must present you to Don Melchior Maldonado, who will join the expedition as a volunteer.”

I bowed with a great flourish to cover my start of surprise. I could feel Rachel trembling as she stood close behind me, as if my body were all that stood between her and being seized at once by Don Rodrigo’s brother.

“And who is this young lady?” the Archdeacon inquired jovially as Don Melchior returned my bow.

I had no choice but to present her as my sister Raquel, hoping that Don Melchior was not party to his brother’s schemes. His expression remained courteous and no more.

“The Queen permits two hundred gentlemen volunteers to sail with us,” I told Rachel, desperate to prevent silence enough for any of us to think.

“At our own expense!” Don Melchior added, smiling for the first time. “We have a noble mission.”

He seemed kindly enough. But what if he dissembled? What story had Don Rodrigo told him? If he were misguided rather than evil, he could still be a great danger to us.

“Indeed, sir,” I said, “for you will bear arms in our defense, should we have need of greater numbers than the soldiers the fleet will carry.”

“I should like to hear your account of the voyage of discovery one day,” he said, “perhaps over a flagon of ale.”

“It would be a great honor,” I said. So it would have been, for a
caballero
to drink with a common sailor. I prayed devoutly that our paths would not cross before we sailed and that we would be assigned to different ships.

“I have a distant cousin, one Juan Cabrera, at La Navidad,” he said.

“We expect great things of those who had the honor to remain,” I said.

Privately, I meant not that Cabrera and his mates might have found the fabled gold mine of Cibao, but that I hoped the villain would refrain from raping and killing any more Taino maidens. Surely, with our ships gone and only the garrison to back him up, he would manage to behave himself.

After this, Don Melchior excused himself, having affairs of his own to attend to. At parting, he said he looked forward to my company on the voyage. 

“He was courteous enough,” Rachel said, once we were alone. “Do you think he recognized our names?”

“We will know that when the Inquisitors come knocking at the Espinosas’ door.”

Chapter Sixteen

Seville - Jerez de la Frontera, August 16 - September 4, 1493

Every day, the fleet grew closer to readiness for departure, prodded by messages to the Admiral from the King and Queen, who were as impatient for us to set sail as Columbus himself. Rachel visited Cristobal almost daily, bringing him sustaining broths and soft bread to cosset his rotting teeth. They had long conversations in a mixture of Castilian and Taino, which Rachel picked up quickly as she plied him with questions about his people’s beliefs and way of life.

“I fear that he is dying,” Rachel confessed to me one day. “No matter what I do, he grows steadily weaker. And his teeth become ever looser in his mouth. His gums are puffy and cause him great pain when he tries to chew.”

“It may be too late for Cristobal,” I said, “but we would do well to eat lemons and oranges so as not to suffer the tooth rot ourselves. If only all who sail with the fleet would do the same! The Taino must have some fruit of a similar virtue, because those we met in the Indies have teeth that are whole and white. It is the sailors, who eat nothing but salt pork and biscuit while at sea, who suffer as Cristobal does.”

“How did you manage last time?” Rachel asked.

“I brought a few lemons aboard the Santa Maria,” I said, “and acquired more in the Canaries, where I believe we will stop again before setting a course westward across the Ocean Sea.”

“This time you must save the seeds,” she said, “to plant at La Navidad when you are settled there. Even better, can you not obtain a sapling lemon tree? It would yield fruit much sooner.”

“I don’t think we sailors will stay long in La Navidad,” I said, “although if things have gone well, as the Admiral hopes, at least some of the settlers will disembark there and begin the task of building a colony. Much depends on whether those who remained have found an abundant source of gold. In either case, we will continue to explore. The heart of the Spanish settlement must be in whatever spot best lends itself to trade.”

              “Still,” Rachel said, “even if the gold mine has already been found, all that will take time. Until then, it is likely that the Admiral will use La Navidad as his headquarters ashore, so wherever you are sent, you will have to report back and can then harvest your lemons.”

I laughed.

“You have an admirable command of logistics, little sister. It is a pity that we cannot persuade Archdeacon Fonseca to take you on as his assistant. Very well, if you insist, I will try to find an appropriate sapling to carry on board, either in Cadiz or in the Canaries. Certainly, the climate in the Indies is so salubrious that it should grow well, once it is transported there.”

I had not yet found, as I hoped to, a berth for Rachel on a ship trading around the Mediterranean coast. For myself, I felt increasing excitement about the fleet’s departure. I would have more responsibility this time as an able seaman and higher pay as well, though I would hold no coin in my hand until our return. Indeed, as the Indians used no coin and gave us freely whatever we asked for, including gold, the principal use of such coin as the sailors carried would be for gambling, which my father had taught me to consider a fool’s road to poverty.

On a bright, cloudless day in early September, my mule and I, who had grown so used to each other that I need not give it much thought or direction, took the road to Jerez. The Archdeacon sent me to ask Fray Alonso, he whom Rachel called the bakery inquisitor, for the latest tallies of our supply of wheat, flour already ground, and biscuit. Once that was done, I had errands for Admiral Columbus in Cadiz. I would spend the night there and return the next day, unless one of the ships’ masters had further tasks for me. I also wished to pay visits to the two ships I most wished to sail on, my favorite being the new flagship Mariagalante and my second choice the brave little Niña, as she had already proved her mettle.

As I passed through the gate of Jerez, I thought of the time, not very long in the past, when the town had marked the border between the dominion of the Moors and that of the Christians. The Moors had been a proud people, skilled in the art of building and in healing. Now most of those who remained were slaves like young Amir. 

I found Fray Alonso at the chief mill where flour was being ground for the voyage and made my request. He greeted me warmly, sent a servant for the documents I wanted, and invited me to join him in the shade while I waited. He offered me a cup of the rich wine for which the town was famous. How his demeanor would change if he knew I was
marrano
! It would always puzzle me how a man could hold both kindness and cruelty in his heart, with the border between them now embattled, now quiet, like the
frontera
at Jerez.

I was sipping the last of my Jerez wine when Fray Alonso called a genial greeting to Don Melchior Maldonado, who greeted me as courteously as before. Once my heartbeat quieted, I could not believe he knew of our connection with his brother. But that could change at any time, if Don Rodrigo chose to write to him from Barcelona. He and Fray Alonso fell to talking of Rome, where Don Melchior had been the King and Queen’s ambassador to the Holy See and Fray Alonso had spent some time on a mission for the Inquisition. The current Pope, Alexander VI, was a Spaniard and a great supporter of the dreaded Torquemada, head of the Inquisition. The King and Queen had long petitioned the Pope to cease the practice of granting absolution from heresy to those who paid over to the Church great sums that the Sovereigns would have preferred to see in their own coffers.

My companions knew of no reason to guard their tongues in my presence. I regretted the wine, which caused a certain lightheadedness, and set myself to keep my expression politely impassive. Luckily, neither Fray Alonso nor Don Melchior was looking at me when Don Melchior said, “I expect my brother to arrive in Seville in a day or two. He wishes to bid me farewell before I embark.”

“You must bring Don Rodrigo here,” Fray Alonso said. “We will share a bottle of the finest Jerez wine and drink to your health and the success of the voyage.”

“I thank you,” Don Melchior said. “Rodrigo will be happy to renew your mutual acquaintance. We can easily pause here on our way from Seville to Cadiz, for my brother wishes to see the fleet. He met Admiral Columbus and saw the painted savages at Court in Barcelona some months ago and thus takes a keen interest in all having to do with the expedition.”

Don Rodrigo Maldonado in Seville! And worse, in Cadiz, where it was impossible that two people spending any time on the docks could avoid coming face to face. For that matter, all connected with the expedition must meet in that part of Seville where its affairs were concentrated: the Archbishop’s Palace and the area surrounding the Plaza de San Francisco, which Rachel crossed daily to visit the ailing Cristobal. I must get her away!

“And how does your own business prosper, Fray Alonso?” Don Melchior asked.

“I am becoming a competent baker,” Fray Alonso said in a jesting tone. “But don’t tell my superiors this, or they will immure me in the kitchens of some monastery once I have completed this task for the fleet.”

Both men laughed.

“I mean your higher business,” Don Melchior said, “as you well know.”

“The Holy Inquisition never sleeps,” Fray Alonso said. “If we believed our task was done when we expelled the swine from Spain, we underestimated their greed. Many would not be parted from their gold, but chose to remain, thinking they could deceive us. Their lust for gold knows no bounds, but they are no match for us in our holy purpose.”

“So your mission prospers,” Don Melchior said. “I am glad to hear it.”

“We have been ordered to redouble our efforts,” Fray Alonso said. “We hope to establish tribunals in such cities as still lack means of ferreting out the heretics. The Moors, too, must be dealt with. They are less sly than the Jews, in that they refuse outright to embrace Our Savior. But enslaving them is not enough. Sooner or later, Their Majesties will see they must be driven out.”

“His Holiness is of a mind with you,” Don Melchior said. “Being Spanish born himself, he would rejoice to see an untainted Christian Spain.”

I took my leave of Fray Alonso and Don Melchior as quickly as I could and urged my mule toward Cadiz, earning a reproachful bray every time I dug my heels into its flanks. My business there could not be concluded until the next day. I spent a sleepless night. Next morning, after discharging the last of the Admiral’s commissions, I delayed my return long enough to seek out a quiet lodging house at some distance from the docks and rent a room from its incurious proprietor. I said it would be needed for no more than three weeks and that the chief tenant would be a young relative of mine. When the landlord shrugged and took my gold without asking any further questions, I heaved a sigh of relief.