VOYAGE OF STRANGERS (29 page)

“I can take care of myself!” Rachel said. “After our time with the Taino, I have as much woodcraft as you.”

“My concern is not the forest,” I said, “but the men you might encounter there. And before you say it, I don’t mean the Taino.”

“Nonsense,” Rachel said. “None would accost a Spanish lady. But if you wish, I shall take Benito with me. I am sure he has as much desire to run and shout as I do.”

“Oh, so now you are a lady?” I had not outgrown my pleasure in teasing Rachel and seeing her grow red-faced and sputtering with indignation. “We must send a letter by the next caravel to Doña Marina, telling her we have found a more effective method of training a wild girl to be a lady than convent schools and lessons in manners. Rather, the girl must cross the Ocean Sea and be set to work in the fields.”

Rachel seized my ear and twisted it. I responded by tickling her as any brother would, and the conversation ended in laughter and good humor. But the next afternoon, I saw her set out, two water skins slung across her shoulders and Benito at her heels, a sack that probably held cassava bread on his back. I could not like it, and I was not certain which of them was supposed to protect the other if danger arose. But the forests of Hispaniola held no predators other than our compatriots. And Rachel had certainly proven herself competent in an astonishing number of situations that would never have arisen had she been an ordinary Spanish girl. So I objected no more to her expeditions after she and Benito returned from the first one tired, dirty, and happy.

One evening we sat at Pilar’s fireside, replete with hutia stew and dumplings made of maize.

“Who would have dreamed that an animal such as the hutia would make such a delicious stew,” I said.

“I dreamed I had a pet hutia of my own,” little Ana said from her seat on her mother’s lap.

“Hush, you did not.” Pilar dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head.

“I gathered the nuts we eat in the forest,” Benito said, jealous of his sister’s bid for attention. “And I can almost hit a hutia with a stone.”

“Can you indeed?” I said. “Bringing down game for dinner takes much skill and practice. Is Rachel teaching you on your excursions to the forest?”

“No,” Benito said, “Hutia is.”

For a moment, I did not take it in. I thought that he spoke nonsense, saying that the furry little animal supervised its own demise. A quick glance at Rachel undeceived me. She frowned fiercely at Benito. But he was throwing nutshells into the fire, aiming at a knot on the biggest log, and did not notice.

“So you met Hutia in the forest yesterday?” I spoke softly.

“Oh, we meet him every time,” Benito said. “He gives me a lesson in hitting what I aim at and not a bush or rock I did not even see. Then Rachel tells me to gather as many stones that fit my hand as I can and practice until she comes for me. And I am not to move more than thirty paces from the big tree, so she can find me.”

I could not find words. Rachel’s cheeks were burning, as well they might. Pilar was humming, paying no attention to the conversation as she rocked Ana into sleep.

“Rachel!” I was so angry that her name issued from my tight throat as a croak. I took a deep breath, telling my shoulders to drop and my fists to unclench. “It is time for me to seek my bed. Walk with me.”

She was not foolish enough to argue.

It was late, and few people were about, though from open doorways came flickering firelight and the occasional burst of singing and laughter among men whose evening recreation was to drink wine or
chicha
until they fell into a stupor. We walked silently, side by side, until we reached the shadow of a great tree fifty yards from my hut.

“What have you been up to?” I demanded. I kept my voice low, but I trembled with the effort.

“Hutia is my friend as well as yours!” Rachel burst out, as angry as I. “Why should I not meet him?”

“You have been deceitful and irresponsible.” Remembering what had made me feel worst when Papa said it, when he caught me in some transgression as a boy, I said, “I am disappointed in you.”

“You are not Papa!” she shot back. “If you had asked me, I would have told you the truth.”

“You left Benito alone in the forest. He is just a little boy!”

“I thought you meant him to protect me.” Her tone shifted from withering sarcasm to sullenness. “We didn’t go far. If he had cried out, we would have heard.”

“That is the feeble defense of a child,” I said. “I thought better of Hutia, however.”

“Hutia has done nothing wrong!” she said. “What ugly thoughts do you harbor, brother?”

“I don’t know what you have done,” I said. “You had better tell me, for I find I don’t know as well as I thought what you are capable of.”

“We have only kissed. But I wish to do more. And so I would, if Hutia didn’t care more about your good opinion than he does my happiness.”

My anger deserted me.

“He does care about your happiness, child. And so do I.”

“You do not! I love Hutia, and I am a woman! I am!”

“Don’t be silly, little sister. Your happiness does not depend on your indulging in pleasures that belong to the marriage bed.”

“You didn’t marry Tanama!”

I felt as if she had struck me. She clapped a hand to her mouth and burst into tears.

“I am sorry, Diego! Truly, I didn’t mean to say anything so hurtful. It is not only that I love Hutia. I see the misery of the Taino every day, and we can do nothing. Nothing! I cannot bear it! At least when Hutia kisses me, I forget about all the cruelty in the world for a little while.”

I put my arms around her. She laid her tearstained cheek against my chest. I rocked her, crooning, “Hush, little one. I know. I know.”

Presently, I said, “The Admiral plans to send ships back to Spain in a month or so, as soon as he deems the winter gales on the Ocean Sea will not prevent them from reaching a Spanish port safely. You should go with them.”

“Without you?”

“I still have my way to make in the world,” I reminded her. “I can send you back with enough gold for safe transport to Italy and an ample dowry.”

“I don’t want to leave Hutia!”

“If Hutia loves you,” I said, “he will encourage you to go. There is no future for you here, Rachel. If you but think, you will see that for yourself.”

“Then why cannot Hutia come with us? On the ship, he must pretend to be our slave, but once we reach Italy, he can be free. Surely Papa must see he is as fine a man as any we have known.”

“I too think Hutia is a fine man,” I said. “But I know what Papa will say: He is not Jewish.”

“He could convert,” she said without much conviction. Unlike the Christians, we did not encourage conversion.

“You know what Papa says,” I reminded her. “Who would have the fortitude or folly to wish to be one of us, if he were not born to it?”

“Maybe one whose people have suffered as much as ours,” she said. “Maybe one who loves a Jewish girl enough to leave his homeland."

“As our people have done over and over,” I said, “in order to survive, ever since the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. But I don’t think Hutia will wish to leave this
land. I will speak to him. In the meantime, you walk no more in the forest.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Isabela, January 16 - February 24, 1495

I did speak to Hutia, not to ask him if he wished to come to Italy and convert to Judaism so he could marry Rachel, but to tell him he must not dally with my sister.

“Jewish girls of Rachel’s age don’t perform the act of love,” I said. “Nor do Jewish women do so outside of marriage. A single marriage between one man and one woman,” I added, remembering that Taino customs were often otherwise.

Hutia did not pretend to misunderstand me.

“I am not an animal!” he said. “I esteem Rachel greatly. I can control my desires.”

“But she, perhaps, cannot,” I said.

“I will be wise for both of us.”

“I have told her she must not meet you alone at all,” I said.

Hutia sighed.

“I know she is not for me. But she is courageous and beautiful and quick-witted. How can I not love her?”

This left me somewhat at a loss. I suppose I felt as all brothers do when a man first courts their baby sister.

“Setting Rachel aside, you might consider returning to Europe with us.” I had not meant to make this offer, but I could not help wishing Hutia well. “If things continue as they have lately, you might have as little future on Hispaniola as Rachel.”

“Quisqueya,” Hutia corrected. “I fear that you are right, but I cannot give up all hope yet. And even if we are doomed, I must stand with my people.”

So the matter rested until, early in February, the Admiral announced that four caravels would return to Spain under the command of Captain Torres.

“I am sending Yayama away,” Fernando said to me one afternoon as we labored at thatching the roof of yet another storeroom.

“You will return to Spain?”

“Yes. I have obligations in Granada, and I confess I don’t think the colony will succeed. They are doing everything wrong!”

“On that point, we are in complete accord.” I sat back on my heels and wiped sweat from my forehead with my forearm.

He, too, paused in his work.

“Have you heard the rumors about demanding tribute?” He threw back his head and raised his water skin, gulping as water poured in a steady stream into his mouth.

“It is more than a rumor,” I said. “Every Indian man on Hispaniola will be required to give a certain quantity of gold several times a year, and wear a token that he has done so, or be killed or enslaved. I wish I could tell you that it was not the Admiral’s idea.”

“I hope Yayama will be safe,” Fernando said. “She says that there are caves far back in the mountains that the soldiers have not yet found.”

“I wish Hutia would go with her. I fear it is only a matter of time before we control the whole island, seizing or destroying everything that made it seem like paradise when we first came here.”

“One cannot deny that Christians have a natural superiority,” Fernando said, “and thus a right to dominion over lesser folk. But matters could have been settled with more discipline and less confusion.”

I had nothing to say to that, and my silence reminded Fernando of what we never spoke of, the fact that I was not a Christian. His face reddened, and he turned back to his work without saying more.

“What obligations have you in Granada?” I asked presently, hoping to ease things between us, for in spite of his prejudices, he was a good friend.

“My father is a merchant,” he said. “When the Moors governed the city, his prospects were limited, but now his business prospers. He wishes me to learn his trade, so that in time I may take over the direction of all his enterprises.” He reddened again as he added, “And I am betrothed.”

Before I had a chance to suggest to Hutia that he consider leaving with Yayama, matters became even worse. The decision to send ships to Spain gave the Admiral an opportunity to report in full on matters in the Indies and beg the Sovereigns for further supplies in as great detail as possible. This made me once more valuable as a scribe, especially since, without discussing it, both the Admiral and I thought it unwise to press Rachel in her womanly guise into service. It might set too many people thinking.

Description of the islands and harbors he had found in his explorations flowed readily from his lips to my quill and thus to paper. But when it came time to enumerate the proposed cargo of the ships that would sail back to Spain, the Admiral grew fretful.

“We sent Their Majesties 30,000 ducats’ worth of gold by Captain Torres and the fleet last year,” he said, more to himself than to me. “Perhaps we can amass the same amount, if we press the Indians hard. They deserve no better, for some of them have killed Christians. But it is not enough! Not enough! The trade goods I have already sent have found no favor, except for the cotton cloth, and that is paltry. A trading colony must have goods to trade. Very well, I will send them what can be found in abundance here—slaves.”

“Excellency!” I had to speak, though I feared his anger. “Is that not unworthy recompense for the welcome the Taino have given us since we first set foot on their shores?”

“No, no, Diego.” He looked at me in mild surprise. “We take no Taino, only Caribe, those fierce fellows who have the impudence to resist us.”

This was a delusion, and I marveled that he seemed to believe it.

“And those who have killed our soldiers, of course,” he went on, “like that rascal Guatiguana.”

This was a
cacique
who had defied and killed a group of soldiers who came to plunder his village. In fact, Guatiguana was to be killed, not enslaved, when he was taken. The Admiral’s logic these days left me bewildered and appalled. The folk of the island must give gifts, but the Christians need not. The Christians might kill, but the Indians must not.

“Find my brother Bartholomew and ask him to attend me,” the Admiral ordered. He had been ill throughout the winter, with extreme pain in his joints, especially when the weather was damp. He added kindly, “You have labored so long on my behalf that your fingers must be stiff with cramp. We must organize the taking of the captives, so that we can choose the best specimens to send to Spain.”