by Paul Clayton
“No!” shouted Mateo. “It cannot be.”
Alonso Roldan shook his head and looked at Mateo with scorn as the gallery broke out in whispered speculation.
“Senors Mateo and Roldan,” said Father Toribio, “take your seats, please.”
Father Toribio waited till the hall quieted. “And now Senor Diego Vega will be given a chance to prove his innocence. Prepare to bring him in.”
Father Luis hurried up to the bench. “Holiness, if you will give me a little more time-- I have asked one of the Indians who was on that ship to come here today to testify. His name is Roberto, and he is sitting over there.”
The men in the gallery turned to stare at Calling Crow as he got to his feet.
Father Toribio shook his head angrily. “No. The boy has sworn. Now we must move on.” He looked at Calling Crow in distaste, then said to Father Luis. “Ask him to leave the room now.” Father Toribio then turned to the men in the gallery. “All of you must vacate the hall at this time.”
After the men had left, Father Toribio turned to Father Pacheco. “You may bring Diego Vega in now.”
Pacheco nodded and walked off. Father Luis pressed up against the bench. “Holiness,” he said almost in a whisper, “this-- this test proves nothing about what happened on that voyage. It is cruel and demeaning. Please reconsider.”
Father Toribio’s face reddened and he shook with anger. “Nonsense! It has been used successfully in the royal court. If it is a good enough test there, then surely it is good enough here in the colonies!”
Father Luis turned from the bench and hurried after Father Pacheco.
***
In another chamber of the Cabildo, Diego Vega’s heart beat rapidly as he sat on the stone bench. Under the thick, loose fitting woolen robes they had given him, cold sweat ran down his armpits to chill his naked sides. His wife, Lomaya, sat beside him, wrapped in an identical robe, which, for some reason, the priest had insisted she wear. Down the hall and inside the main chamber of the Cabildo, the Inquisitor and his staff were conferring before they called them in.
Diego glanced at Lomaya. Her presence did not reassure him. Nothing reassured him anymore, not even prayer, not since they had told him what he was charged with. He felt like a swine in a slaughterhouse. The charges were false, so wildly false that the only way he could understand it all was that it must be some kind of horrible mistake. Or, worse still, could it be a matter of divine retribution? Had God decided to punish him in this horrible way for having been a part of the slaving expedition? Perhaps these men, with their horrible accusation, were merely God’s instruments.
Lomaya touched his arm. “Look, the boy!”
Two soldiers, one on each arm, escorted Miramor down the corridor. As the boy passed, Diego and Lomaya saw many bruises on his face. His eyes were glazed and he seemed not to see them as the two soldiers led him away.
Diego looked at Lomaya, then looked away. He had gotten her swept up in this terrible nightmare and she would have to pay right along with him. His shame was only exceeded by his fear.
The slap of sandaled feet sounded down the hall. A young priest and the friendly figure of Father Luis appeared.
Diego and Lomaya got to their feet.
“It is time,” said Father Luis. He looked at Diego sadly. “Just be honest in all you tell them and do what they tell you, Diego.”
Diego nodded. “Of course, Father.” Diego and his wife followed the priests down the corridor and into the large chamber. The priests led them past a pallet of velvet covers that were laid out in the center of the stone floor. They paused to stand before the bench.
Father Luis turned to Diego. “Remember. Just do what they tell you, and may God bless you.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Diego softly.
Father Luis and Father Pacheco walked off and took their seats at the end of the bench. A phlegmy cough echoed off the stone walls.
From his lofty vantage, the Inquisitor fixed his large watery eyes on Diego. Diego thought he saw sorrow in them and that gave him a little hope.
“Diego Vega?” the Inquisitor said.
“Yes, Holiness?”
“Do you know what you are being charged with?”
“Yes, Holiness. They told me.”
“How do you plead?”
“I am not guilty, Holiness.”
“After four witnesses have sworn to having seen you with the boy, you still insist on your innocence?”
Diego nodded. “Yes, Holiness. I am not guilty.”
“Is that your wife?”
“Yes, Holiness.” Despite the heavy robe, Diego began to shiver.
The Inquisitor turned to whisper into the ear of Father Pacheco. Father Pacheco watched Diego and Lomaya as he whispered softly into the Inquisitor’s ear.
The Inquisitor again looked down on Diego. “Did you know that the boy called for a confessor and confessed to the crime?”
“No, Holiness.” Diego and Lomaya exchanged horrified looks. Diego’s voice quavered and cracked. “I don’t know why he would confess to such a thing.”
The Inquisitor leaned forward. “Perhaps because it is true?”
“No, Holiness. I swear before all in this room and God above that this thing never happened.”
“Very well,” snapped the Inquisitor in annoyance, “then you shall have to prove it.”
“I don’t understand, Holiness,” said Diego, looking around the chamber. The priests seated up on the high bench looked away nervously. Father Luis nodded slowly, as if offering encouragement.
“Behind you,” said the Inquisitor, “do you see the pallet that has been placed on the floor?”
“Yes, Holiness,” said Diego. In his nervousness he did not understand what the Inquisitor wanted.
The Inquisitor grew red faced. “Do I have to spell it out for you, man? There is a pallet. Your wife is at your side. Perform the marital act!”
Diego turned away in horror at the Inquisitor’s words. Shame spread through him like a dye as he looked down at the pallet. Without a word, Lomaya went over and lay down, pulling the velvet covers over herself. She looked up at the ceiling as she quickly removed her robe underneath the covers. Diego got down onto his knees and turned back to look at the Inquisitor.
“Must all the priests remain, Holiness?”
The Inquisitor said nothing as he and the other priests avoided looking directly at him and Lomaya.
“Diego, please,” said Lomaya in a whisper.
Diego turned to her and quickly slipped out of his loose robe. Pulling the covers up over his naked back, he lay beside her. Sweat beaded on his brow as he turned and looked at her. “I am sorry for you, Lomaya,” he said quietly. “None of this is your affair, yet you have to submit to this. I am very much ashamed for you.”
“Do what they want,” Lomaya whispered worriedly. She looked into his eyes. “It is all right.”
Diego nodded. He turned and lay atop her. After a while he discovered to his horror that his machinery would not work. He quickly looked over his shoulder at the priests, and they looked away. Turning back to Lomaya, he strained harder but nothing happened. He felt dead from his hips on down.
“What is the matter?” whispered Lomaya worriedly.
Diego shook his head as sweat beaded on his brow. “I don’t know.”
Lomaya ran her hand over his head.
Diego looked in her eyes and saw love and sorrow there. “I love you, Lomaya.” He lay his head on her breast and she put her arms around him.
“And I, you.”
They lay still, holding each other tightly in the quiet of the great room.
“Enough!” The deep voice of the Inquisitor rattled off the stone walls. “Pull on your robes and stand for sentencing!”
Diego pulled on his robe and stood. He turned to the priests on the bench. “I am innocent,” he said softly. None of them would meet his eye. As he thought of what it all meant-- the slander of his reputation, the horrible punishment in
store for him, Lomaya’s pain-- he began crying, his sobs echoing off the walls.
Chapter 35
Calling Crow and Juana went to the great paving stone square where the Spanish held their religious and governmental ceremonies. Two crosses had been erected on a raised stone platform, and the large crowd that had gathered knew that this was where the Spanish would put Diego and the boy to death.
Calling Crow and Juana found it hard to believe that the Spanish would put to death one of their own. They stood back with their own people while the Spanish crowded closer to where soldiers were piling firewood up around the two crosses. Calling Crow saw Mateo and Father Luis pushing through the gawkers as they attempted to get closer. A large crowd of people came up behind Calling Crow and Juana, pushing them up against the inner crowd of Spanish and criollos.
“Can Father Luis stop this?” said Juana.
Calling Crow shook his head. “I don’t think there is anything he can do.”
The crowd surged forward, pressing Calling Crow and Juana up tightly against others. Heads turned and people pointed at a procession of black-robed priests coming slowly down the street. Three horse drawn carts rolled along behind them.
The soldiers took Diego and the boy from the first cart and led them up the steps to the two crosses. They tied them to the crosses, and then five other men with their hands bound behind them were led from the other two carts up onto the platform. These men wore strange, pointed hats on their heads and were made to stand in front of the planted crosses where the crowd pointed and laughed derisively at them.
Diego looked wildly about. He shouted angrily at the people that he was innocent. The boy said nothing and stared blankly, as if unaware of where he was.
The Inquisitor mounted the steps and Father Luis and Mateo rushed over to him. Father Luis argued loudly with the Inquisitor and Mateo soon joined in. Their voices reached Calling Crow and Juana over the noise of the crowd. The Inquisitor walked away from Father Luis and Mateo, and two soldiers pushed them back into the crowd.
Mateo and Father Luis threaded their way over to where the soldiers were stacking the wood. Calling Crow watched Mateo hand one of the soldiers a small leather pouch. The man quickly looked inside and tucked it into his doublet. Calling Crow knew that it was gold. Father Luis had told him the night before that Mateo wanted to bribe the soldiers to strangle his friend. That way the old man wouldn’t suffer in the flames.
The soldiers continued to pile wood at the base of the crosses as the priests mounted the steps to the platform. The tall Inquisitor faced the crowd, his face hard and dark under the black hood. The people quieted as he raised his arms. His voice rang out loudly: “Behold these craven men, Diego Vega and Miramor the Moor, who have been sentenced to die for the crime of sodomy, this bitter, detestable crime, a thing altogether inhuman which causes us to tremble with violent horror as we weigh its gravity-- ”
“Yes,” someone shouted, “it is so!”
The Inquisitor raised his hands for silence. “We cannot doubt that the enormity of their crime makes it an offense to the Divine Majesty.” The Inquisitor jabbed a finger toward Diego and Miramor. “These two men here are like dumb beasts that have no understanding of their evil.”
The Inquisitor faced the crowd again and raised his hands. His eyes seemed to grow larger, and he pointed, Calling Crow thought, straight at him. “The fact of their guilt can neither be questioned, nor should it be, by any true Catholic. Now, the fires of His justice will cauterize this community and burn away the toxins of this despicable sin. All kneel to hear the Lord’s Prayer.”
A younger priest stepped forward as the murmuring crowd got to its knees. He recited the Lord’s Prayer in a droning voice. When he finished, the Inquisitor started down the steps and the priest followed him.
The crowd’s appetite whetted, the chattering grew anew as it pushed forward for a better vantage.
Calling Crow and Juana tried to leave the crowd as the soldiers formed a phalanx around Diego, obscuring him from view. One of the soldiers looked around nervously, and when he and the others moved away, Diego’s head hung limply. The soldiers closed ranks around the boy, but not before Calling Crow saw one put his hands around the boy’s neck. The boy’s eyes bulged and he struggled visibly against his ropes, then hung limply from his cross.
A hulking soldier touched his torch to the pyres. Father Luis made the sign of the cross as flames quickly climbed the crosses and both men’s clothing caught fire. Calling Crow saw tears running down Mateo’s face. Father Luis placed a hand on Mateo’s shoulder to comfort him. Someone shook Calling Crow and he turned to see Juana’s face, wet with tears. “Please, let us go,” she shouted.
Calling Crow pushed through the crowd, Juana behind him. The stench of burnt flesh reached their noses as the people laughed and chattered. They left the crowd and hurried away. Carried by the land breeze, the smoke moved overhead in a low thin cloud, obscuring the grand buildings the Spanish held sacred-- the governor’s mansion, through which passed the King’s enlightened commands, the Cabildo, where the Spanish made their many laws to protect the people, and the cathedral, from which was dispensed God’s mercy.
Chapter 36
Bishop Cavago gripped the hefty wooden shaft of his crosier as he looked out over the ship’s rail at the people gathered on the quay. He thought of how tiresome and dangerous the expedition would undoubtedly be, and of how content he had been in his house in the town. But, he told himself, going on the expedition was necessary, for it would present him with many opportunities and greatly-expanded authority. He heard a commotion behind him and turned to see one of the soldiers being chastised by Father Luis for shoving an Indian. There was one of the opportunities. Father Luis could put his blind love for the Indians to better use in Florida. He would leave the good priest there, not in charge, but as an aide to Father Salcido. And what about Juana? He really did not want to part from her. If he could keep an eye on her until the Inquisitor went back to Castile, and until she had the child, well, then perhaps things could be as they once were. But if she was smitten by one of the mission-tamed braves on the ship, as he suspected, then he would have to find out which one and make some arrangement for him.
He watched a small Indian dugout move away from the quay. The rowers, naked but for loincloths, dug their broad paddles deep into the calm sea as the solitary passenger, an official of some kind, perhaps a lawyer, held onto the gunwales with both hands, his head moving forward and backward with the strokes of the oars. The sight brought home the world he lived in, the marriage of civilization to this wild new world. Yes, thought Bishop Cavago as he filled his chest with the sea air, the benefits could definitely outweigh the discomforts, and he must do his best to ensure that they did.
Senor Francisco Mateo stood on the ship’s deck with several other encomenderos who had been commanded by De Sole to serve on his expedition. Not far away from them, De Sole and his captains talked excitedly, the wind tugging at their hair and beards. Bishop Cavago and some priests walked by and started down the stairs to the ship’s waist. Father Luis was among them, and he nodded sadly to Mateo as he passed.
Mateo looked back down on the quay to where his wife, Felipa, and her father stood. Felipa wore her best black velvet dress for the occasion. Mateo tried to smile at her, and giving up, waved dutifully before turning away to watch some sailors hauling on a rope. His weariness went to the bone and he felt heavy and old. All his pride about the grand, just role of King and colony in the New World had been exposed as cruel illusion by Diego’s miserable death.
Alonso Roldan and Manuel Ortiz walked up to De Sole and bowed in greeting. Mateo looked away in disgust. He had visited Diego in jail the day before he died, and Diego had raved about how all who had gone to Florida on his expedition almost three years earlier were cursed. Perhaps Diego had been right. Perhaps this curse was now unfolding.
Calling Crow carried a large clay jar of oil across the gangplank and onto the deck of the Isab
ella. Shouted orders and the occasional crack of a whip rose above the constant howling of the dogs from the below-decks. Calling Crow followed a Carib carrying a sack of grain across the deck. The large sack obscured the man’s body as he trod sure-footedly down the ramp leading to the gundeck. As Calling Crow made his way into the interior of the ship, the barking of the dogs grew much louder. Calling Crow saw them in the stern, chained together, snapping angrily at the legs of a man who was walking past.
Calling Crow set the jar down with the others. He was pleased to see how long the rows of jars had grown and how high the mounds of sacks, for he and the others were very tired of the work. He started up the ramp, passing others as they came down loaded like pack animals. Coming up into the sun, he looked about, hoping to see Juana. He knew she was already on the ship. She would stay in a cabin in the front of the ship with the other women, while he and the other bearers would sleep up on the decks.
Calling Crow walked around the ship’s boat and spotted Juana and another woman by the rail washing clothes in a wooden tub. He walked over to her. The woman beside Juana averted her eyes, continuing her rubbing and wringing as Calling Crow looked at Juana.
“Are you well?” he said.
Juana nodded, looking around quickly. “Six of us are staying in there.” She nodded to a door. “It is crowded, but at least it will be out of the weather if we have rain.”
Calling Crow looked at her and felt many different feelings. Her belly was bigger now and that made his heart sing. Yet because of her early life, and what he made her do, it could be the Bishop’s child. The thought saddened him a little, but he would accept the child as his. He and Juana were finally leaving this sad place, but they were still not free. He silently sang a prayer to the Great Spirit and to Father Luis’s gods, the Mother Mary and the Jesus. Aieyee! He would miss Father Luis. He had been a good friend, despite his strange habits and ways.
He looked out across the harbor at the sea. He must get himself and Juana away from the Spanish as soon as possible after they reached the other side of the sea, for once there, he would never allow the Spanish to bring them back to this place. If they had to die in the Floridas, then at least they would die together and their spirits would be together after death.
