"The man who did it."
"He can't be far," said RascĒn.
"SeĪor PinzĒn, would you kindly organize a search?"
When the men had dispersed, ColĒn stood on the shore, looking out over the many bits of wood that were bobbing on the waves. "Not even if all the gunpowder on the Pinta exploded all at once," said the Captain-General, "not even then could it destroy the ship so completely."
"God could do it," said the Captain-General. "Or perhaps the devil. The Indians know nothing about gunpowder. If they find this man who supposedly did it, do you think he'll be a Moor?"
But when they found him, the man wasn't a Moor. Nor was he an Indian. He was white and bearded, a large man, a strong one. His clothing had obviously been bizarre even before the men tore much of it from him. They held him, a garrotte around his neck, forcing him to his knees in front of the Captain-General.
"Why did you do this?" asked ColĒn.
"Why?" demanded the Captain-General.
The men muttered in rage. Infidel. Heathen. Devil.
"Fool," said Kemal. "How will you return to Spain when you're surrounded by enemies?"
"How do you think I got here, if I hadn't had the help of some of these." With his head, he indicated the men around him. Then he looked PinzĒn in the eye and winked.
The men who held the Turk obeyed at once, even though ColĒn raised his voice and cried out for them to stop. It was possible that in the roar of fury they didn't hear him. And it didn't take long for the Turk to die. Instead of strangling him, they pulled the garrotte so tight and twisted it so hard that it broke his neck and with only a twitch or two he was gone.
"What could he have told us, except lies?" said PinzĒn.
"What are you accusing me of?" demanded PinzĒn.
Only then did PinzĒn seem to realize that his own actions had pointed the finger of suspicion at him. He began to nod, and then smiled. "I see, Captain-General. You finally found a way to discredit me, even if it took blowing up my caravel to do it."
"Let him watch what he says to me. I didn't have to bring the Pinta back here. I've proved my loyalty. Every man here knows me. I'm not the foreigner. How do we know that this ColĒn is even a Christian, let alone a Genovese? After all, that black witch and the little whore interpreter both knew his native language, when not one honest Spaniard could understand it."
ColĒn looked at him steadily. "There would have been no expedition if I had not spent half my life arguing for it. Would I destroy it now, when success was so close?"
ColĒn allowed himself a hint of a smile. "If you were such a fine sailor, you'd know that to the north of us the prevailing wind blows from the west."
"You're speaking to the commander of Their Majesties' fleet," said Segovia.
"When you were a pirate," said ColĒn quietly, "I sailed the coast of Africa with the Portuguese."
"Dispose of the body," said the Captain-General. Then he turned his back on them and returned to the camp.
The runner from Guacanagari couldn't stop laughing as he told the story of the death of the Silent Man. "The white men are so stupid that they killed him first and tortured him afterward!"
"We must watch the white men's village," said Diko. "The white men will turn against their cacique soon, and we must make sure he comes to Ankuash, and not to any other village."
Chapter 12 -- Refuge
Could God have possibly sent her? Was she, at last, the first reaffirmation he had received since that vision on the beach? She knew so much: The words that the Savior had spoken to him. The language of his youth in Genova. His sense of guilt about his son, left to be raised by the monks of La Rdbida.
On the other hand, his purpose was to baptize the people he found at the end of his voyage, wasn't it? If they could be baptized, it meant they could be saved. If they could be saved, then perhaps she was right, and once they were converted these people would be Christian and have the same rights as any European.
They could learn.
"Captain-General," said Segovia, "you must pay attention. Things are getting out of hand with the men. PinzĒn is impossible -- he obeys only those orders he happens to agree with, and the men obey only those orders that he consents to."
"That's what the King would have done."
"You have not acted with sufficient authority."
"That is not impossible, Captain-General."
"I could not do a worse job of it than you."
"I see that you forget in whose name I speak."
Yet no sooner was Segovia gone than Cristoforo was once again trying to puzzle out what God expected of him. Was there anything he could do now to bring the men back under his command? PinzĒn had them building a ship, but these weren't the shipbuilders of Palos here, these were common sailors. Domingo was a good cooper, but making a barrel wasn't the same as laying a keel. Lopez was a caulker, not a carpenter. And most of the other men were clever enough with their hands, but what none of them had in his head was the knowledge, the practice of building a ship.
These thoughts come from her, Cristoforo realized again. Until I spoke with her, I didn't question the right of white men to give commands to brown ones. Only since she poisoned my mind with her strange interpretation of Christianity did I start seeing the way the Indians quietly resist being treated like slaves. I would have thought of them the way PinzĒn does, as worthless, lazy savages. But now I see that they are quiet, gentle, unwilling to provoke a quarrel. They endure a beating quietly -- but then don't return to be beaten again. Except that even some who have been beaten still return to help, of their own free will, avoiding the cruelest of the Spaniards but still helping the others as much as they can. Isn't this what Christ meant when he said to turn the other cheek? If a man compels you to walk a mile with him, then walk the second mile by your own choice -- wasn't that Christianity? So who were the Christians? The baptized Spaniards, or the unbaptized Indians?
"The Taino way is not always better," said Chipa.
"I meant, how do you say? The Taino kill people for the gods. Sees-in-the-Dark said that when you taught us about Christ, we would understand that one man already died as the only sacrifice ever needed. Then the Taino would stop killing people. And the Caribs would stop eating them."
"The people from the lowlands say so. The Caribs are terrible monster people. The Taino are better than they are. And we of Ankuash are better than the Taino. But Sees-in-the-Dark says that when you are ready to teach us, we will see that you are the best of all."
"No, him. You, ColĒn."
What if it was true? What if the whole purpose of this voyage was to bring him here, where he could meet the people God had prepared to receive the word of Christ?
She said that when I was ready, she'd show me the gold.
***
"How bad?" asked Diko.
"Who?"
Diko sighed. "Why can't he see that he has to leave, he has to come here?"
"If I leave the village to go down the mountain and watch over ColĒn, who will carry the water here?" asked Diko.
"If I leave the village to watch over ColĒn and bring him safely here, who will watch over my house so Nugkui doesn't move someone else in here, and give away all my tools?"
"Then I'll go," said Diko. "But I won't make him come. He has to come here under his own power, of his own free will."
"I don't make people do things against their will," said Diko.
***
At once Pedro called out to Caro, the silversmith, to go fetch the officers. Then he ran with Chipa, following Dead Fish outside the stockade.
"Stop it!" Pedro screamed.
"She's a child!" he shouted at them.
Chipa was already heading for the girl. Pedro tried to stop her. "No, Chipa."
"Leave her alone," said Pedro. But now he wasn't shouting.
Pedro reached for his sword, knowing that there was no hope of him prevailing against any of these men, but knowing also that he had to try.
Pedro turned. PinzĒn was at the head of a group of officers. The Captain-General was not far behind.
He complied. But instead of heading back toward safety, Chipa made for the girl, still lying motionless on the ground, putting her head to the girl's chest to listen for a heartbeat.
"Who is responsible for this?" demanded ColĒn.
"Have you?" asked ColĒn. "The gifl is obviously just a child. This was a monstrous crime. And it was stupid, too. How much help do you think we'll get from the Indians now?"
"And while you're at it, you'll take their women and rape them all, is that the plan, Rodrigo? Is that what you think it means to be a Christian?" asked ColĒn.
"I said I've taken care of it, Captain-General," said PinzĒn.
"These Indians aren't fighters," said Moger, laughing. "I could fight off every man in the village with one hand while I was taking a shit and whistling."
"What happened here shouldn't have happened," said Rodrigo to ColĒn. "But it's not that important, either. Like PinzĒn said, let's get back to work."
"You killed a girl!" Pedro shouted.
"Enough," said PinzĒn. "Let's have no more of this."
"If she was a girl of Palos," said Pedro, "you would kill the men who did this to her. The law would demand it!"
"You are not civilized!" shouted Pedro. "Even now, by holding Chipa that way, you are threatening to murder again!"
Chipa immediately tried to obey him. For a moment, Rodrigo restrained her. But he could see that no one was behind him on this, and he let her go. At once Chipa returned to Pedro and ColĒn.
Pedro was livid. Pulling at his sword, he stepped forward. "I've never touched her!"
"Put the sword away, Pedro," said ColĒn.
Again the men began moving toward the stockade. But Rodrigo couldn't leave well enough alone. He was making comments, parts of them clearly audible. "Happy little family there," he said, and other men laughed. And then, a phrase, "Probably plowing his own furrow in her, too."
The officers were first through the stockade gate. Other men had gathered there, too. The men who had been involved in the rape -- whether doing it or merely watching -- were the last. And as they reached the gate and it closed behind them, ColĒn turned to Arana, the constable of the fleet, and said, "Arrest those men, sir. I charge Moger and Clavijo with rape and murder. I charge Triana, Vallejos, and Franco with disobedience to orders."
That gave Rodrigo de Triana time enough to collect himself. "Don't do it!" he shouted. "Don't obey him! PinzĒn already told us to go back to work. Are we going to let this Genovese flog us because of a little accident?"
"You, you, and you," said Arana. "Put Moger and Clavijo under--"
"If Rodrigo de Triana advocates mutiny again," said ColĒn, "I order you to shoot him dead."
"Captain-General," said PinzĒn quietly. "There's no need to talk of shooting people."
"Then you'll have a hell of a long wait!" cried Rodrigo.
Pedro gasped. He could see that Segovia and Gutierrez were just as shocked as he was. PinzĒn had just mutinied, whether he meant it that way or not. He had come between the Captain-General and the Constable, and had restrained Arana from obeying ColĒn's order. Now he stood there, face to face with ColĒn, as if daring him to do anything about it.
Arana turned to the three men he had called upon before. "Do as I ordered you, men," he said.
Pedro could see that PinzĒn did not know what to do. Probably didn't know what he wanted. It was obvious now, if it had not been obvious before, that as far as the men were concerned, PinzĒn was the commander of the expedition. Yet PinzĒn was a good commander, and knew that discipline was vital to survival. He also knew that if he ever intended to return to Spain, he couldn't do it with a mutiny on his record.
So ... what was the most important to him? The devotion of the men of Palos, or the law of the sea?
While PinzĒn dithered about whether to cross the line, ColĒn had recognized the simple fact that he had already crossed it. ColĒn had law and justice on his side. PinzĒn, however, had the sympathy of almost all the men. No sooner had ColĒn given the order than the men roared their rejection of his decision, and almost at once they became a mob, seizing ColĒn and the other officers and dragging them to the middle of the stockade.
Pedro moved as unobtrusively as possible toward the gate of the stockade. He was about thirty yards from where the officers and loyal men were being restrained, but someone would be bound to notice when he opened the gate. He took Chipa by the hand, and said to her, in halting Taino, "We will run. When gate open."
***
"Come on, Martin," shouted Rodrigo. "He was charging you with mutiny."
After a moment, Rodrigo finally got it. "You men," he said, giving orders as naturally as if he had been born to it. "You'd better seize Captain PinzĒn and his brothers." From where he was standing, Pedro couldn't see whether Rodrigo winked as he said this. But he hardly needed to. Everyone knew that the PinzĒns were only being restrained because Martin had asked for it. To protect him from a charge of mutiny.
"He was going to flog me, the lying bastard!" cried Rodrigo. "So let's see how he likes the lash!"
"Sees-in-the-Dark will know what to do," Chipa said quietly in Taino.
He dashed for the gate, lifted the heavy crossbar, and let it drop out of the way. At once an outcry arose among the mutineers. "The gate! Pedro! Stop him! Get the girl! Don't let her get to the village!"
Chipa ran light as a deer across the clearing and dodged into the undergrowth at the forest's edge without so much as disturbing the leaves. By comparison, Pedro felt like an ox, clumping along, his boots pounding, sweat flowing under his heavy clothing. His sword smacked against his thigh and calf as he ran. He thought he could hear footsteps behind him, closer and closer. Finally, with a killing burst of speed he broke into the underbrush, vines tangling around his face, gripping his neck, trying to force him back out into the open.
Her voice calmed him. He stopped thrashing at the leaves, and then discovered that by moving slowly it was easy to duck through the vines and thin branches that had been holding him. Then he followed Chipa to a tree with a low-forking branch. She lifted herself easily up onto the branch. "They're going back into the stockade," she said.
"We have to get Sees-in-the-Dark," said Chipa.
Pedro looked around frantically, but still couldn't see where the voice was coming from. It was Chipa who spotted her. "Sees-in-the-Dark!" she cried. "You're here already!"
"Can you stop them?" asked Pedro.
But he could only follow Chipa, for he lost sight of Sees-in-the-Dark from the moment she moved away. Soon he found himself at the base of a tall tree. Looking up, he could see Chipa and Sees-in-the-Dark perched on high branches. Sees-in-the-Dark had some kind of complicated musket. But how could a weapon be of any use from this far away?
Diko watched through the scope of the tranquilizer gun. While she was busy intercepting Pedro and Chipa, the mutineers had stripped Cristoforo to the waist and tied him to the cornerpost of one of their cabins. Now Moger was preparing to lay on the lash.
Behind her, clinging to another branch, Chipa spoke quietly. "If you were here, Sees-in-the-Dark, why didn't you help Parrot Feather?"
"I couldn't hear her heart."
"If I hadn't said that Parrot Feather was dead, then all the rest of this--"
Even without the scope, Chipa could see that ColĒn was being flogged. "They're whipping him," she said.
She took careful aim at Rodrigo and pulled the trigger. There was a popping sound. Rodrigo shrugged. Diko aimed again, this time at Clavijo. Another pop. Clavijo scratched his head. Aiming at Moger was harder, because he was moving so much as he laid on with the lash. But when she got the shot off, it also struck true. Moger paused and scratched his neck.
***
To his surprise, the flogging ended after only a half dozen blows. "Oh, that's enough," said Moger.
"Cut him down," said Rodrigo. He, too, sounded more calm. Almost bored. It was as if the hate in them had suddenly spent itself.
"I know who the loyal men are," whispered Cristoforo.
"Yes," said Yevenes defiantly. "I'm not with you."
Cristoforo could not believe how Rodrigo had changed. He looked uninterested. For that matter, so did Moger and Clavijo, the same kind of dazed look on their faces. Clavijo kept scratching his head.
They obeyed, but everyone was moving slower, and most of the men looked sullen or thoughtful. Without the fire of Rodrigo's rage to drive them, many of them were obviously having second thoughts. What would happen to them when they got back to Palos?
Inside his cabin, Cristoforo endured the pain as Master Juan laid on some nasty salve, then laid a light cloth over his back. "Try not to move much," said Juan -- as if Cristoforo needed to be told. "The cloth will keep the flies off, so leave it there."
Moving slowly, gently, so as not to disturb the cloth or cause too much pain, Cristoforo crossed himself and prayed. Can I still fulfill the mission you gave me, Lord? Even after the rape of that girl? Even after this mutiny?
What humility was that? What was it he was supposed to learn?
Late in the afternoon, several Tainos from Guacanagari's village made their way over the wall of the stockade -- did the white men really think a bunch of sticks were going to be a barrier to men who had been climbing trees since boyhood? -- and soon one of them returned to make his report. Diko was waiting for him with Guacanagari.
"I gave them a little poison so they would," said Diko.
None of the others shared their cacique's attitude toward the black shaman-woman from the old mountain village of Ankuash. They were in awe of her, and had no doubt that she could poison anybody she wanted to, at any time.
"So he wasn't much of a cacique after all," said Guacanagari.
"Why should I believe this white boy and this tricky lying girl?" demanded Guacanagari.
All of the Taino war council, gathered in the forest within sight of the stockade, were surprised by the fact that Pedro could understand and speak their language. Diko could tell they were surprised, because they showed no expression on their faces and waited in silence until they could speak calmly. Their controlled, impassive-seeming response reminded her of Hunahpu, and for a moment she felt a terrible pang of grief at having lost him. Years ago, she told herself. It was years ago, and I've already done all my grieving. I am over all feelings of regret.
"We will remember our anger, too," said one of Guacanagari's young men.
She said it quietly, but the menace in her words was real -- she could see that they were all considering very carefully. They knew that she had deep powers, and none of them would be reckless enough to oppose her openly.
"I would never forbid you to do anything, " said Diko. "I only ask you to wait and watch a little longer. Soon white men will begin leaving the stockade. I think that first there will be loyal men trying to save their cacique. Then the other good men who don't want to harm your people. You must let them find their way up the mountain to me. I ask you not to hurt them. If they are coming to me, please let them come."
"I can protect myself," said Sees-in-the-Dark. "If they are heading up the mountain, I ask you not to hinder or hurt them in any way. You'll know when the only ones left are the evil ones. It will be plain to all of you, not just to one or two. When that day comes, you can act as men should act. But even then, if any of them escape and head for the mountain, I ask you to let them go.
"I agree," said Diko. "There is no refuge for them."
Cristoforo awoke in the darkness. There were voices outside his tent. He couldn't hear the words, but he didn't care, either. He understood now. It had come clear to him in his dream. Instead of dreaming about his own suffering, he had dreamed about the girl they had raped and killed. In his dream he saw the faces of Moger and Clavijo as they must have seemed to her, filled with lust and mockery and hate. In his dream, he begged them not to hurt her. In his dream, he told them he was just a girl, just a child. But nothing stopped them. They had no mercy.
The door opened, then closed again quickly. Quiet footsteps approached him.
"Quiet, please, my lord," said the voice. "Some of us have had a meeting. We'll free you and get you out of the stockade. And then we'll fight these damned mutineers and --"
"What, then? Do we let these men rule over us?"
"But the mutineers will build the ship."
"That's true, my lord," said the man. "Already some of them are muttering about how PinzĒn was interested only in making sure you knew that he wasn't a mutineer. Some of them remembered how the Turk accused PinzĒn of helping him."
"PinzĒn listens when Moger and ClaviJo talk about killing you, and he says nothing," said the man. "And Rodrigo stamps about, cursing and swearing because he didn't kill you this afternoon. We have to get you out of here."
The pain was sharp, and he could feel the fragile scabs on some of the wounds break open. Blood was trickling on his back. But it couldn't be helped.
"Most of the ship's boys are with you," he said. "They were all ashamed of PinzĒn today. Some of the officers talk about negotiating with the mutineers, and Segovia talked with PinzĒn for a long time, so I think maybe he's trying to work out a compromise. Probably wants to put PinzĒn in command --"
"The black witch?"
Cristoforo was standing now, and had his hose on, with a shirt loosely thrown over his back. More clothing than that he couldn't bear, and on this warm night he wouldn't suffer from being so lightly dressed. "My sword," he said.
"I'm Captain-General of this expedition," said Cristoforo. "I will have my sword. And let it be known -- whoever brings me my logbooks and charts will be rewarded beyond his dreams when we return to Spain."
Cosa shrugged. "We Basques -- you never know what we're going to do."
Andres and Juan were joined by several others, all ship's boys except for Escobedo, the clerk, who was carrying a small chest. "My log," said Cristoforo.
De la Cosa grinned at him. "Should I tell him about the reward you promised, or will you, my lord?"
They looked at each other in surprise. "We thought to help you over the wall," said de la Cosa. "Beyond that ..."
"I'll stay, " said Juan de la Cosa, "so I can tell people the things you told me. All the rest of you, go."
The others came over the wall much more quickly than Cristoforo had. The only trouble was with the chest containing the logs and charts, but it was eventually handed over the top, followed by Escobedo.
"I fear for his life," said Cristoforo.
The Tainos all carried weapons, but they did not brandish them or seem to be threatening in any way. And when Dead Fish took Cristoforo by the hand, the Captain-General followed him toward the woods.
Diko carefully removed the bandages. The healing was going well. She thought ruefully of the small quantity of antibiotics she had left. Oh, well. She had had enough for this, and with any luck she wouldn't need any more.
"So you aren't going to sleep forever after all," said Diko.
"You're still weak," she said. "The flogging was bad enough, but the journey up the mountain wasn't good for you. You aren't a young man anymore."
"Go back to sleep. Tomorrow you'll feel much better."
"You can tell me tomorrow."
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," she said.
"I know," she answered.
"I have come to you to help you make true Christians of the people here. Beginning with me. Tomorrow you'll start to teach me about Christ, so I can be the first baptized in this land."
She stroked his hair, his shoulders, his cheek. As he drifted back to sleep, she answered him with the same words. "This is why I came here."
Within a few days, the royal officers and several more loyal men found their way up the mountain to Ankuash. Cristoforo, now able to stand and walk for a while each day, set his men to work at once, helping the villagers with their work, teaching them Spanish and learning Taino as they did. The ship's boys took to this humble work quite naturally. It was much harder for the royal officers to swallow their pride and work alongside the villagers. But there was no compulsion. As long as they refused to help, they were simply ignored, until they finally realized that in Ankuash, the old hierarchical rules no longer applied. If you weren't helping, you didn't matter. These were men who were determined to matter. Escobedo was the first to forget his rank, and Segovia the last, but that was to be expected. The heavier the burden of office, the harder it was to set it down.
That night a dozen men arrived in the village. Among them was PinzĒn himself, wounded in the leg and weeping because his brother Vincente, who had been captain of the Nina, was dead. When his wound had been treated, he insisted on publicly begging the Captain-General's forgiveness, which Cristoforo freely gave.
"I told Guacanagari it would be obvious when the time came. But because you waited, there will only be a few of them, and you'll beat them easily."
***
"They're forgetting to be Spanish," Segovia complained to Cristoforo one day.
"And what is that?" demanded Segovia.
In the meantime, Cristoforo and Sees-in-the-Dark talked for many hours each day, and gradually he began to realize that despite all the secrets that she knew and all the strange powers that she seemed to have, she was not an angel or any other kind of supernatural being. She was a woman, still young, yet with a great deal of pain and wisdom in her eyes. She was a woman, and she was his friend. Why should that have surprised him? It was always from the love of strong women that he had found whatever joy had been granted him in his life.
Chapter 13 -- Reconciliations
Cristobal ColĒn was the European who had created the Carib League, a confederation of Christian tribes in all the lands surrounding the Carib Sea on the east, the north, and the south.
Their achievements were remarkably parallel. Both men had put a stop to the ubiquitous practice of human sacrifice in the lands they governed. Both men had adopted a form of Christianity, which was easily united when they met. ColĒn and his men had taught European navigation and some shipbuilding techniques to the Tainos and, when they were converted to Christianity, the Caribs as well; under Yax, Zapotec ships traded far and wide, along both coasts of the Zapotec Empire. While the Carib islands were too poor in iron for them to match the achievements of the Tarascan metalsmiths, when ColĒn and Yax united their empires into one nation, there were still enough of ColĒn's European crew who knew ironworking that they were able to help the Tarascans make the leap forward into gunsmithing.
But it was unimaginable. The only reason they could believe it was possible with the Carib League and the Zapotec Empire was that it actually happened.
It was a well-governed empire. While all the different tribes and language-groups that were included within it were allowed to govern themselves, a series of uniform laws were imposed and impartially enforced, allowing trade and free movement through every part of Caribia. Christianity was not established as a state religion, but the principles of nonviolence and communal control of land were made uniform, and human sacrifice and slavery were strictly forbidden. It was because of this that historians dated the beginning of the humanist era from the date of that meeting between Yax and ColĒn: the summer solstice of the year 1519, by the Christian reckoning.
There was another similarity between Yax and ColĒn. Each of them had an enigmatic adviser. It was said that Yax's mentor, One-Hunahpu, came direct from Xibalba itself, and commanded the Zapotecs to end human sacrifice and to look for a sacrificial god that they later believed was Jesus Christ. ColĒn's mentor was his wife, a woman so dark she was said to be African, though of course that could not have been true. The woman was called Sees-in-the-Dark by the Taino, but ColĒn -- and history -- came to know her as Diko, though the meaning of that name, if it had one, was lost. Her role was not as clear to historians as that of One-Hunahpu, but it was known that when ColĒn fled the mutineers, it was Diko who took him in, nursed him back to health, and by embracing Christianity helped him to begin his great work of conversion among the people of the Carib Sea. Some historians speculated that it was Diko who tamed the brutality of the Spanish Christians. But ColĒn himself was such a powerful figure that it was hard for historians to get a clear look at anyone in his shadow.
She was there first, waiting for him in the darkness. When he came to the top of the tower and saw her, at first he was wordless, and so was she. They sat across from each other. She had brought mats so they wouldn't have to sit on the hard stone. He had brought a little food and drink, which he shared. They ate in silence, but the true feast was in the way they looked at each other.
"And you, Diko."
"And is that what we made him? Our tool?"
"She is. And strong." He smiled. "The third strongest woman I ever knew."
"I miss her too. I still see her sometimes in my dreams, reaching up to pull down the switch."
"Not for a day. Not for an hour."
"Who else but you would understand what I achieved? Who else but me could know how far beyond our dreams you succeeded?"
"For now, anyway," said Hunahpu. "They can still find their own ways to make all the old mistakes."
"Did you tell him?" asked Hunahpu. "About who we are, and where we came from?"
Hunahpu nodded. "I tried to tell Xoc, but to her there was little difference between Xibalba and Pastwatch. Call them gods or call them researchers, she didn't see much practical difference. And you know, I can't think of a significant difference, either."
"And to me, it was a job. Until I found you. Or you found me. Or however that worked."
He cocked his head and looked at her sideways, to let her know that he knew he was asking a loaded question. "Is it true you aren't going with ColĒn when he sails east?"
"He's an old man, Diko. He might not live to come home."
"Now that we're making Atetulka the capital of Caribia, will you come there to live? To wait for his return?"
He laughed. "No, I'm not proposing an affair. I love Xoc, and you love ColĒn. We both still have too much work to do for us to put it at risk now. But I hoped for your company. For many conversations."
"Ya-Hunahpu is dying to go to Haiti -- he hears that the women wear no clothing."
Hunahpu reached out and took her hand. "I'm not disappointed."
They held hands like that, for a long time.
"I was thinking of him, too."
"He died quickly," said Diko. "But not without planting seeds of suspicion among the Spaniards. It must have been quite a death scene. But I'm glad I missed it."
"I'm stooping a little these days."
They went down the pyramid separately. No one saw them. No one guessed that they knew each other.
Cristobal ColĒn returned to Spain in the spring of 1520. No one looked for him anymore, of course. There were legends about the disappearance of the three caravels that sailed west; the name ColĒn had become synonymous, in Spain, at least, with the idea of mad ventures.
That was when a fleet of a thousand ships appeared off the Portuguese coast near Lagos, sailing eastward toward Spain, toward the straits of Gibraltar. The Portuguese galleon that spotted the strange ships at first sailed boldly toward them. But then, when it became obvious that these strange vessels filled the sea from horizon to horizon, the captain wisely turned about and raced for Lisboa. The Portuguese who stood on the southern shores said that it took three days for the whole fleet to pass. Some ships came close enough to the shore that the watchers could say with confidence that the sailors were brown, of a race never seen before. They also said that the ships were heavily armed; any one of them would be a match for the fiercest war galleon of the Portuguese fleet.
The first of the ships put in to port at Palos. If anyone noticed that it was the same port from which ColĒn had set sail, the coincidence went unremarked at the time. The brown men who disembarked from the ships shocked everyone by speaking fluent Spanish, though with many new words and odd pronunciations. They said they came from the kingdom of Caribia, which lay on a vast island between Europe and China. They insisted on speaking to the monks of La Rabida, and it was to these holy men that they gave three chests of pure gold. "One is a gift to the King and Queen of Spain, to thank them for sending three ships to us, twenty-eight years ago," said the leader of the Caribians. "One is a gift to the Holy Church, to help pay for sending missionaries to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ in every corner of Caribia, to any who will freely listen. And the last is the price we will pay for a piece of land, well-watered with a good harbor, where we can build a palace fitting for the father of our Queen Beatrice Tagiri to receive the visit of the King and Queen of Spain."
"Yes, they were," said the brown man.
"He is not only alive, but he is the father of our Queen Beatrice Tagiri. It is for him that we build a palace. And because you remember him, my friend, I can tell you, in his heart he is not building this palace for the King and Queen of Spain, though he will receive them there. He is building this palace so he can invite his son, Diego, to learn what has become of him, and to beg his forgiveness for not returning to him for all these years."
"I assumed you were," said the brown man. "You look like him. Only younger. And your mother must have been a beauty, because the differences are all improvements." The brown man didn't smile, but Diego saw at last the twinkle in his eyes.
The land was purchased, and seven thousand Caribians began trading and purchasing throughout southern Spain. They caused much comment and not a little fear, but they all claimed to be Christians, they spent gold as freely as if they had dug it up like dirt, and their soldiers were heavily armed and highly disciplined.
Spanish scholars were teaching Caribian and Spanish students in the university; Spanish priests taught Caribians to speak Latin and say the mass; Spanish merchants came to the city to sell food and other supplies, and came away with strange artworks made of gold and silver, copper and iron, cloth and stone. Only gradually did they learn that many of the Caribians were not Christians, after all, but that among the Caribians it did not matter whether a person was Christian or not. All were equal citizens, free to choose what they might believe. This idea was strange indeed, and it did not occur to anyone in authority in Spain to adopt it, but as long as the pagans among the Caribians did not try to proselytize in Christian Spain, their presence could be tolerated. After all, these Caribians had so much gold. And so many fast ships. And so many excellent guns.
"Queen Juana," he said, "I'm sorry that your mother and father did not live to see my return from the expedition on which they sent me in 1492."
"Cristobal ColĒn," he said, "was the true servant of the King and Queen. But I was wrong about how far it is to China. What I found was a land that no European had ever known before." On a table before their thrones he set a small chest, and took from it four books. "The logs of my voyage and all my acts since then. My ships were destroyed and I could not return, but as Queen Isabella charged me, I did my best to bring as many people as I could to the service of Christ. My daughter has become Queen Beatrice Tagiri of Caribia, and her husband is King Ya-Hunahpu of Caribia. Just as your parents joined Aragon and Castile through their marriage, so my daughter and her husband have united two great kingdoms into one nation. May their children be as good and wise rulers of Caribia as you have been of Spain."
Their speeches were done, and in return they had offered him many fine gifts -- by Spanish standards -- to take back to King YaHunahpu and Queen Beatrice Tagiri. He accepted them all.
The warning was dear enough -- it had been clear from the moment that the thousand ships of the Caribian fleet were first seen off the coast of Portugal. Already word had come back from the King of Portugal that all plans to explore Hy-Brasil had been abandoned, and Cristoforo was confident that other monarchs would be as prudent.
Consent was freely given, and Juana and Henrique stayed another week in order to lead the ceremonies involved in naming the Ciudad Isabella.
***
Surely God had fulfilled the promises made on that beach near Lagos. Because of Cristoforo the word of God was being carried to millions. Kingdoms had fallen at his feet, and the wealth that had passed through his hands, under his control, was beyond anything he could have conceived of as a child in Genova. The weaver's son who had once cowered in fear at the cruel doings of great men had become one of the greatest of all, and had done it without cruelty. On his knees Cristoforo gave thanks many times for God's goodness to him.
He thought then of Diko. She could never have been the woman of his dreams; there were times when he suspected that she had once loved another man, too, that was as lost to her as both his Beatrices were to him. Diko had been his teacher, his partner, his lover, his companion, the mother of many children, his true queen when they had shaped a great kingdom out of a thousand villages on fifty islands and two continents. He loved her. He was grateful to her. She had been a gift of God to him.
There is no good thing that does not cost a dear price. That is what Cristoforo learned by looking back upon his life. Happiness is not a life without pain, but rather a life in which the pain is traded for a worthy price. That is what you gave me, Lord.
Pedro de Salcedo and his wife, Chipa, reached Ciudad Isabella in the fall of 1522, bringing letters to ColĒn from his daughter, his son-in-law, and, most important, from his Diko. They found the old man napping on his balcony, the smell of the sea strong in the rising breeze that promised rain from the west. Pedro was loath to wake him, but Chipa insisted that he wouldn't want to wait. When Pedro shook him gently, ColĒn recognized them at once. "Pedro," he murmured. "Chipa."
ColĒn smiled, took the letters, and laid them unopened in his lap. He closed his eyes again, and it seemed he meant to doze off again. Pedro and Chipa lingered, watching him, with affection, with nostalgia for early days and great achievements. Then, suddenly, he seemed to rouse from his slumber. His eyes flew open and he raised one hand, his finger pointing out to sea. "Constantinople!" he cried.
A few moments later, Pedro realized that there was a different quality to the old man's posture now. Ali, yes, that's the difference: He isn't breathing now. He bent down and kissed his forehead. "Good-bye, my Captain-General," he said. Chipa also kissed his white hair. "Go to God, my friend," she murmured. Then they left to tell the palace staff that the great discoverer was dead.
In the year 1955, a Caribian archaeologist, heading a dig near the traditional location of the landing place of Cristobal ColĒn, observed that the nearly perfect skull found that day was heavier than it should be. He noted the anomaly, and a few weeks later, when he had occasion to return to the University of Ankuash, he had it x-rayed. It showed a metal plate embedded inside the skull.
Photographing every step of the process, and with several assistants as witness, he sawed open the skull and removed the plate. It was of an alloy he had never seen before; later testing would reveal that it was an alloy that had never existed, to anyone's knowledge. But the metal was hardly the issue. For once it was detached from the skull, it was found that the metal separated into four thin leaves, on which there was a great deal of writing -- all of it almost microscopically small. It was written in four languages panish, Russian, Chinese, and Arabic. It was full of circumlocutions, for it was speaking of concepts which could not be readily expressed in the vocabulary available in any of those languages in 1500. But the message, once deciphered, was clear enough. It told which radio frequency to broadcast on, and in what pattern, in order to trigger a response from a buried archive.
Had there once been a different history? No, two different histories, both of them obliterated by interventions in the past?
Two of the travelers already had tombs and monuments. All that was left was to build a third tomb there on the Haitian shore, lay the skull within it, and inscribe on the outside the name Kemal, a date of birth that would not come for centuries, and as the date of death, 1492.