Taino (36 page)

“I was told they are alive, both of them,” I told her without speaking.

The light of her spirit body emanated, and I could see it. She turned my way so I could see her face but still she did not look upon me. “One went south and one went north,” I said. “They are both well, and there are children.”

“You are a good
guaxeri
, my husband, to come to me this way.”

“I want you to rest. Go home to Coaybay, where the elders will surround you.”

“I should not have left you, but I could not live without my Good Wind.”

“They are still on earth; I cannot know more.”

“Thank you, my husband. I will go join my parents. As for you, accompany yourself, make a nest for your days ahead.”

Ceiba walked away, following the current of the brook. I felt very complete and greatly satisfied. I felt tremendous peace, even in her lonely walk. I felt all my pain suddenly lift, and tears began to pour from my eyes, purging my heart and lifting the pressure from my shoulders. Then suddenly my right leg, crocodile-bitten all these years, felt strong and had bounce, and I began to run as I turned from the stream to the flat field of the plateau, jumping and hopping and with each step bouncing higher and higher. And there I was, jumping about my old little valley, bouncing from clearing to clearing, and suddenly, below me, seeing my curled up body, a shiver in my lightning spirit, and I began to bounce higher and higher, and I was going away and I wanted to go away and I could feel the tremendous harmony of my breath and of all Taíno memory, all Taíno goodness, all the ancestors, all of our beautiful knowledge, all of the seas and valleys of our spirit domains and I heard her singing.

In the path of flesh and blood you walk,

Come and join me, man alive, come and join me.

Your mission is done, your celestial steps complete,

Come and see me, man alive, come and chew and come and swallow.

Come and join me in the light, man alive, come and sleep.

Over and over I heard the song, and I didn't resist it. I let it call me down and lull me, and I followed it back until I felt the heat of the fire, and I remembered that I was alive.

One hundred sixty-six.
Finding love with Catalina.

Catalina had fixed our hammocks. I slept until midmorning and she was already up and had prepared a tea and a plate of fruit for me. After I ate, she led me to the stream. “Bathe,” she said, handing me a crunched up ball of
digo
root to lather with.

I entered the stream and bathed. Then I swam against the current a good while. Catalina sat by and watched me. “Work your leg against the water,” she said. She, too, had bathed and now wore a skirt but nothing over her breasts. Neither her nakedness nor mine bothered us. We bathed naked for several hours, occasionally walking along the shore and picking fruits and nuts for the journey. The nuts made a good paste, which Catalina put in a gourd. I found a tree full of honeycombs, and we sweetened the nut paste, and it was very good. It was like the old days. Ceiba and I would do this, too, gather foods with her aunts and uncles, all of us naked in the old way, without a care about it.

That evening, we slept again, and in the false light of dawn I caught sight of Catalina's eyes gazing on me. I motioned her to come, and she came to lie in the crook of my arm in my hammock. We felt easy with each other and soon she lifted her leg over my thigh, and, lizardly, I hooked myself into her hold. I felt her slightest tremor and didn't move at all. She hugged me with her deepest love, and I was ironwood for her, holding fast. Catalina sighed softly and leaned down. She leaned down hard and held on so tightly it hurt. Then she caught, as we say, the rhythm of the hammock, and we took the long ride together.

We walked back in silence but full of love. Now she walked behind me, watching me. That night we stopped to rest, and again, in the night, she came over. In the morning she cooked for us as I greeted the sun and the four directions. Then we walked again, and she followed me, and I could feel the warmth of her eyes. I could feel her woman's heart envelop me, and it had been many years, and it was as obvious as frogs croaking at the clouds before rain that Catalina's was the love I needed to call warriors to peace.

One hundred sixty-seven.
Barrionuevo has arrived.

Barrionuevo has arrived, the king's ambassador. Yesterday morning, as I sat down to write, this was the shout of the town. Still, at that very moment, full of words and tears of joy, I was ready to pour my heart upon the page. Four days I have been back, four days without Catalina, and I am as lonesome as a
manatí
pup; I, sour man with a hide like leather and a heart full of scars, I love a woman again.

But Barrionuevo has arrived. Time speeds up. The town has gone crazy with criers and rumors, the cathedral's bell rings, and the archbishop and mayor have invited the town's
señores
to a public meeting tomorrow. Las Casas himself has been summoned twice this afternoon, and official discussions have begun.

Barrionuevo brings two hundred men, including Captain Rodrigo Gallego, my old friend. I saw Rodrigo, though I will wait to visit, as he is posted across town in the house of a
señor
named Quesada. This Quesada is quick to see deviousness in little acts and might suspect my motives. Rodrigo looked portly and quite tall. His face jowls down but still it is kind, as it was when I knew him. Rodrigo commands a troop of seventy-five men, and he is second captain under Barrionuevo. I saw him line up his men and lead them to Quesada's
posada
and horse stables, where they will bivouac. Something warmed inside me to see old Rodrigo, a friendship reawakened from those old days.

One hundred sixty-eight.
Tempering the good friar.

Barrionuevo is housed in special rooms at the House of Contracts, where
Oidor
Suazo is providing grandly for him. Las Casas goes back and forth from the convent to the House. He went for a late lunch, then returned to rest and ponder. Later, he was invited to a late dinner, where he is now. After his nap, he summoned me, and I put his clothes out as he bathed. He has a small tub and a sponge, with which he wipes himself off, stepping in and out of the small tub.

“They now know I am their best mediator to Enriquillo,” he said. “The hook is in.”

“I am glad they listen to you, Father.”

“The
oidores
know I am the one who can talk to Enriquillo. So, they are attuned to my every word,” he replied. “You can be sure we will gain wide concessions.”

I cannot tell the good father, I cannot even intimate to him that his argument for the negotiations centering on the abolishment of
encomienda
has already been dismissed and that he himself is not desired at the treaty-making. I must not confront him but divert his mind and his feet from the path of the Bahuruku parley.

“You will remember this Barrionuevo,” the good friar told me as I helped him into his robes. “He was a soldier under Velazquez in the war against Guahaba and Xaraguá, around 1504, 1506.”

I remember not Barrionuevo, but I remember Diego Velazquez, conquistador and first governor of Cuba. I remember him and I remember the campaigns against Anacaona of Xaraguá and Hatuey of Guahaba very well. Eight years before his mandate to conquer Cuba, in 1511, Diego Velazquez commanded troops under that master of assassins, Knight Commander Ovando, here in Santo Domingo. It was Velazquez who actually ordered the torching of Anacaona's eighty
caciques
at the banquet massacre, in 1503. The same Velazquez hunted down our people afterward and caused the enslavement of my own family. In 1511, Velazquez took me to Cuba, where he again gave me into servitude. I can say I remember Velazquez, and I know what the soldiers did under Velazquez.

“Before the Massacre of Anacaona and the war against Xaraguá,” Las Casas went on, “Barrionuevo commanded troops against
cacique
Cotubanamá, in Higuey. Afterward, around 1508, he went on to the conquest of San Juan Bautista de Puerto Rico [Borikén], with Ponce de León.”

“Many took part and were brutal at that time, Father,” I said.

“He is a much older man now,” the good friar responded, staring directly at my eyes. “Barrionuevo is forthright about his mission.”

Las Casas said this curtly, staring at my eyes until, out of respect, I looked away. My remark, we both knew, recalled his own involvement in the slaving wars back then. He himself committed acts against Taínos at that time that now make him suffer with remorse. Knowing the good friar for many years, I know that spiking his heart is the only way to keep his attention. I very much want to keep his attention.

“Forgive my opinion, Father?”

“Be kind, Dieguillo.”

“I would stress to Barrionuevo that a pardon with dignity for Enriquillo and his people would be an acceptable route. Enriquillo desires peace with freedom most of all.”

“The king instructed Barrionuevo to make a quick peace or a total war.”

“Total war would be disastrous,” I said. “And a quick peace is possible, if we don't press for too much.”

“I think Enriquillo's position is stronger than you think,” he responded. “I tell Barrionuevo that a new military campaign would be costly. If it were to fail, and if Enriquillo appears victorious and multiplies his forces with Indians and Africans, the Spanish could very well lose the island.”

“A war would be disastrous for us, Father,” I insisted. “According to Enriquillo, there is not much area left to retreat to. They could not sustain multiple attacks…”

“Well, but Barrionuevo, as the king's special envoy, can agree on principle to abolish the
encomienda
.”

“One thing at a time. The
encomienda
as a main negotiating point could delay the impulse too long. It could raise opposition and lead to the war.”

“The moment is ripe now, and such a pronouncement, from right here in the Indies, would mean much more. At this moment, Dieguillo, if we plan this right, Barrionuevo will accept this. A royal decree just now, on the eve of a major peace—think of it Dieguillo, it is the only justice possible for the Indian people.”

The good father being resolute, I took the route of diversion.

“As you say, Father, the strategy is all. ‘Everything in its time.' So I would add: Please let Enriquillo make that demand; let him demand the end of the
encomienda
himself. And if Barrionuevo balks at it, then you step up, for you must know you will be right there at Enriquillo's side. He asked me himself to tell you. At his side.”

Las Casas looked relieved and alert. I smiled upon him, making my lie complete. For the first time in the twenty years I have known him, I have control over his volition, and it takes a lie. The good friar wants very much to be at the center of this event. I thought as we spoke: I truly have his attention now.

“Let Enriquillo lead the discussion,” I pressed on, pulling now on the priest's heartfelt wish to help our people. “Let him approach as the sovereign
cacique
that he is. He deserves this moment.”

“Absolutely,” Las Casas said. “I will sit at his side as a supporter, but he will lead the talking. Barrionuevo must see him as his equal.”

“Excellent,” I said.

“When he mentions the
encomienda
and demands a royal decree, I will be there to support him, to throw the weight of my church behind him.”

“At the parley, Father, please. At the right moment. This is very important to Enriquillo.”

“Yes, of course. I will wait for his demand, then support it.”

One hundred sixty-nine.
I hate telling a lie, but…

I hate telling a lie. But the father, Blessed Protector, would endanger our lives with his love of our cause. No, he is too agitated and too controversial here on the islands to represent Enriquillo's interest. In fact, he will not get there. The baby boy himself spoke about the need to maintain the peaceful mind, keep humble so as not to block the path of peace.

I will ask Las Casas to certify the existence of more gold bullion and Enriquillo's offer to have a special gesture with Valenzuela. This will happen soon. He will carry the word to Valenzuela for us, I am certain, in order to divert them from the negotiations. Then to Las Casas I will assign a
guaxeri
guide who will pretend to lose his way
and
keep the good friar himself from the parley site. I do this now without hesitation, though I know it can confuse my living spirit, my
goeiz
,
to be this way. Valenzuela and Pero Lopez I thus send one wrong way. And the good friar, too, will follow another wrong trail. With this I hope to keep clear our thin path to peace.

One hundred seventy.
The good friar confesses a deed of his youth.

Again I saw him tonight. It was a long, difficult day for both him and me. I write here again how sorry I am to lie to him. I do hate to lie to this great man that trusts my word.

Las Casas paced slowly several times around his room. He was puff-eyed like an owl from lack of sleep. I prepared his cot. Finally, he sat down. “We spoke much about Ovando,” he said. “Gonzalo Fernández … Oviedo was there. He knows it all, as usual. The gold counter is writing a book about the Indies, and he read some parts to Barrionuevo and the assembled gentlemen. It was all I could do not to fight him. He speaks of Knight Commander Nicolás de Ovando and his times as the ‘years of civility' on the island. He claims Ovando established good government and stimulated a true economy here. Ovando is his big hero.”

“What did you say, Father?”

“I held my tongue, the bastards.”