"And what is that?"
"Bannermen."
#
The trip through the highlands exhausted Gerard. In the valleys, they passed through mud and frigid rivers. Along the hillsides, they navigated thick jungles. Father Miguel marched them up and down the hills at an extraordinary pace, and while Gerard pushed himself to the limit to keep up, the priest showed no sign of tiring.
Relief came at midday on the second day of their march, when the hills descended into a lightly wooded plain which stretched to the horizon.
"Isn’t it magnificent?" asked Father Miguel. "A land blessed by the Lord, where we can live close to the tribes. This is a gateway to the heart of this vast land. Using that river as a start," he pointed to a wide river, "you can find your way to the Spanish city of Asunción, or head south to the La Plata River and the sea."
As they descended the final ridge, a village came into view: a few dozen packed clay buildings and a wooden church.
"Is that Sao Paulo?" asked Oludara.
"Indeed," replied Father Miguel. "I spent many years here, before I became Provincial and had to install myself in Salvador. Back then, we had neither chalices nor linens for the altar, not even a corporal for the Eucharist. The town has come a long way since them."
Gerard didn’t think it had progressed all that far, but he kept the thought to himself.
When they reached the outskirts of town, a native child saw them and ran toward one of the buildings, yelling, "Father Miguel! Father Miguel is here!" Within seconds, dozens of children, all of them natives or mixed blood, came rushing out. Unlike the other natives Gerard had met, they wore clothing. They surrounded Father Miguel, pulling his cassock and screaming welcomes at him.
He greeted every one of them by name, then said in a gentle but firm voice, "My presence here is no excuse for missing your lessons. But we have guests here today, so I expect you to play for them at lunch."
The children ran off as fast as they had come, and in their place formed a line of novices and priests. Europeans--Portuguese and Spaniards by the look of them--compromised half the group, while the other half consisted of natives. Some walked barefoot while others wore sandals woven from coarse strands: espadrilles, as Gerard had heard them called in Spain. One of the priests stepped forward with an outstretched hand.
This other priest contrasted Father Miguel in many ways. He wore his black hair slicked back in perfect lines. His small nose and wide forehead sported far less tanning and wrinkling than those of his superior.
"Welcome back, Father," he said. "May the Lord be with you."
"And also with you," replied Father Miguel. He turned to Gerard and Oludara. "Gregorio is rector of the school here and in charge of all our undertakings in Sao Paulo."
The priest introduced himself as "Gregorio Bras" and shook their hands in turn as they introduced themselves.
"Did you receive my letter?" asked Gregorio.
"Yes. I pondered long upon the problem, but found no solution. As the days brought me closer, I prayed to the Lord for a sign..." He glanced toward Gerard and Oludara. "And then I met these two. They have their own banner, that of the Elephant and Macaw."
"It is strange to seek succor from bannermen in this matter," said Gregorio, sizing them up.
"Strange are the ways of the Lord," replied Miguel. "Why don’t we have lunch before we speak? We can eat out here in the open while the children perform."
Gregorio brought out food while Miguel introduced them to the others. The meal consisted of a light rice porridge, cooked vegetables, and mustard leaves--and it left Gerard’s stomach growling.
"Here are some napkins," said Gregorio, handing them a pair of banana leaves. "Here in Sao Paulo, we can’t afford linen for our napkins; we use only what the Lord provides us."
"Fortunately," added Miguel, "here the Lord provides well."
During their meal, the children played instruments and sang kyrielles: some in Latin and others in Tupi. Their Tupi differed from that which Gerard had learned among the far away Tupinambá, but he found he could understand it well enough.
"What instruments are those?" asked Oludara. "There are some I have never seen."
Gerard pointed them out one by one: "That’s a shawn, the flutes you know, that one’s a trumpet, and the two on the end are a cornett and a dulcian."
Shouting broke out in the village and the children stopped playing. Gerard turned to see hundreds of natives, most of them clothed, pouring into town. The women, shouting and crying, fell to the ground before Father Miguel. Gerard could make out phrases like "You are our good friend!" and "How much work it must have been to come visit us." It reminded him of the Tupinambá village; the women there would also make a great-to-do every time someone they knew came to visit.
Father Miguel took it all in stride, greeting and blessing all who came before him. He spoke a Spanish-tinged Tupi in a voice so measured and calm that even Gerard felt relaxed by it. After a time, Miguel led a native couple, aged around sixty, toward Gerard and Oludara. Gerard caught a bit of their conversation as they approached.
"And the pains in my head have returned," said the man.
"I’ll let some of your blood tonight," replied Father Miguel.
"Thank you, Father!"
"But for now, I’d like to introduce you to these men here. Gerard and Oludara, meet Isabel and Pasquale. Pasquale is the great chief of the Tupiniquim tribes here."
Pasquale embodied the mixture of Christian and Tupi present in Sao Paulo. From his Tupi side, Pasquale wore a single feather in a band on his head and a modest shell collar--nothing close to the decorations other chiefs used. From the Christian influence, he wore cotton pants and a leather vest. Isabel wore a skirt but left her chest bare, save for a wooden cross.
"You have Christian names?" asked Gerard.
"We take them upon holy baptism," replied Isabel.
Oludara gave a slight bow and said in Tupi, "We jump with happiness."
"We are content you have come," Isabel replied.
"They speak our language!" shouted Pasquale, his smile rounding his cheeks all the way to his ears.
Gregorio, nearby, said, "You two speak the lingua brasilica also? Indeed, we are well met."
Father Miguel nodded in approval. "I believe the six of us should discuss our problem. Let us retire to the school."
Pasquale’s smile faded and a grim nod replaced it. "Yes, we must speak."
Gerard and Oludara followed the two priests and the native couple into one of the clay buildings. The house, much like the natives, mixed Tupi and European. On the one hand, hammocks hung throughout with fires spaced between them, just like the longhouses Gerard had become accustomed to. On the other hand, cabinets packed with all types of objects and desks littered with papers crowded the walls.
"Please pardon the modest accommodations," said Gregorio. "This building is our school, our infirmary, our pantry, our refectory, and our home. We are tithed but a tenth of the rice grown in this captaincy, and that is all we receive for our buildings, food, clothing, and anything else we need to spread the word of God to the gentiles."
The group made themselves comfortable. Gerard and the natives chose to relax in the hammocks, Gregorio took a chair, and Miguel and Oludara sat upon the ground.
"Gregorio," said Father Miguel, "enlighten our guests to the complication at hand."
Gregorio nodded and said, "The bannermen have become a far greater threat than ever we imagined. They sack the native villages, take slaves, and turn over the ones they don’t want to enemy tribes to be devoured." Then he gave a nod to Gerard. "Present company excluded, of course."
"No offense taken," said Gerard. "We’re aware of these practices and condemn them, same as you."
"They take our land," shouted Pasquale. "They take our wives and daughters. They sell us as slaves!"
"I know not what to do, Father," said Gregorio. "After defending our flock from so many evils, we must now face a Christian threat?"
All sat silent for some time, until at last Father Miguel spoke. "God tests us, and God sends us the means to overcome. Meeting these two on the way here was no coincidence. Who better to help us against the bannermen than bannermen themselves?"
He turned to Gerard and Oludara. "Would you aid us, find a way to defend the tribes against the bannermen?"
"Yes," said Oludara. "The Tupinambá made us one of their own. The Tupiniquim are like brothers to us."
Pasquale and Isabel smiled at him.
"I am a Calvinist," said Gerard, "with no great love of Jesuits. But in this matter, I will do all I can."
"Good," said Father Miguel. "And in return, once this matter is resolved, I will help you face the Headless Mule."
#
The next morning, an insistent shoving awoke Gerard from his sleep. His body felt none too eager to arise from the hammock after the long march through the highlands. He opened his eyes to discover Oludara with an over-eager smile.
"You are too long in bed," said Oludara. "As my people say, ‘the sieve never sifts meal by itself’."
Gerard peeked through the window to see a dark blue sky. Oludara had awoken him on the cusp of dawn.
He rolled back over and closed his eyes. "I think the sieve can wait a little longer."
"Can it? I am eager to plan the defense of Sao Paulo. Many years have passed since I have been involved in the strategems of war. I relish the challenge. They say that a sharp wit is the best medicine for old age." When Gerard didn’t move, he added, "And if you don’t get up now, you’ll miss breakfast."
Gerard needed no further encouragement--only his hunger trumped his exhaustion. His enthusiasm, however, eroded quickly when Father Gregorio served them, once again, rice porridge.
"Is it lent?" asked Gerard, not trying to hide his crestfallen countenance.
Gregorio laughed. "You refer to the lack of meat in our diet? Sometimes the children bring us a fish or an alligator, but as we teach them from morning to late afternoon, they rarely have time for it. Speaking of which, they should arrive at any moment."
Right after he spoke, the echo of far-off gunfire sounded from outside. Gerard opened his mouth to ask if someone had gone hunting, but closed it when the concern on Gregorio’s face told him otherwise. Gregorio ran from the house and Oludara chased after. Gerard stuffed one spoonful of porridge into his mouth and grabbed his harquebus before following.
Outside, they ran into Father Miguel.
"Did you hear where the shots came from?" asked Gregorio.
"Unfortunately, yes. From the same direction as Pasquale’s village. We must leave immediately."
They set off at a fast pace along a worn path. After a quarter of an hour, they heard a great commotion: drums and horns playing.
"What is that?" asked Gerard.
"The Tupiniquim are preparing for war," said Father Miguel. "Something terrible has happened; we must move with all haste."
They covered the last three minutes at a run, and came upon the source of the commotion: a group of fifty natives. Some cared for a native, bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound. Others held down two men while their companions held clubs over their heads--poised for a killing blow. Gerard was shocked to find he recognized the two men on the ground: Diogo and Tinga.
Gerard, Oludara, and Father Miguel all said in unison, "Stop!"
Pasquale came running toward them, waving a long, wooden weapon that looked something between a club and a sword. Beside him, Isabel wielded what looked to be a long sack weighed down with rocks on one end.
"They took my grandsons," wailed Pasquale, waving the wooden sword in the air, "to use as beasts of burden!"
"Bring those two here," said Miguel.
Pasquale nodded reluctantly and some of his warriors dragged Tinga and Diogo toward them.
"You know these men?" Miguel asked Gerard.
"Yes, they serve Antonio Dias Caldas’s banner."
"Not anymore," said Diogo. "Not after today."
"What happened?"
"Antonio came looking for slaves, and found the children. There was but one guard with them, taking them for their lessons, and one of Antonio’s men shot him when he resisted. We stayed here to help him, but these warriors came running from the village and captured us."
"I know Antonio," said Miguel. "I didn’t think him fool enough to do this."
"Antonio dared because he thought you were in Salvador," said Diogo. "I’m sorry, Father, I didn’t know it would come to this...enslaving Christian children."
"We’ll kill them all!" yelled Pasquale. "We’ll roast them!"
"Enough!" shouted Miguel. "Do you forget our teachings so swiftly?"
Pasquale held his head in shame.
"We will go after them," said Miguel, "but there will be no bloodshed."
"I know the path they take," said Tinga. "I can lead you to them."
"But can we trust you?" asked Gregorio.
"We can vouch for these two," said Gerard, and Oludara nodded agreement. "They’re good men, two of the finest I’ve met."
"But I still don’t know if we can trust the two of you. What if this is all some elaborate ruse to help them get away?"
"We can trust them," said Miguel, in a voice that offered no rebuttal. Gregorio bowed his head in deference.
Father Miguel addressed the crowd in Tupi. "We must march hard. Any who cannot keep up should stay behind."
Only a few natives stayed behind to care for the wounded man, the rest lined up behind Father Miguel. Isabel, sack in hand, stood side by side with Pasquale.
"Father Miguel," said Gerard. "You should know, this Antonio has sworn himself my enemy."
"Will that be an issue?"
"If he sees me, he could take offense."
"It doesn’t matter. You must come with us; that is the reason you’re here."
#
As the group jogged through the highlands, Oludara spoke to Pasquale and Isabel.
"Isabel," he said, "do the Tupiniquim women always travel with the warriors?"
"It is our custom for the chief’s wife to follow him into battle," she replied.
"Our ways are different from the Tupinambá," said Pasquale. "Even more so from our time with the Jesuits." He pointed toward Miguel running barefoot at the front of the group, leading without pause. "You can have faith in that one. He is their greatest pajé. He has power far beyond any of the others."
Gerard heard the comment and scoffed. "A priest, even a Catholic one, is nothing like your sorcerers."
"Believe what you want; I have seen him perform miracles."
"I also saw," said Oludara. "At his command, the Headless Mule fled before him."
Gerard made a "hrumph" sound, but said nothing.
"Look at how he runs," said Pasquale. "These priests are strange. They serve us, they die for us, but they refuse to marry our daughters!"
Oludara laughed, both at the earnestness of the comment and at Gerard’s reddening face.
"They are strange indeed," agreed Oludara.
His smile disappeared as they crossed a ridge and Antonio’s band came into view. Less than twenty men led a line of dozens of children tied together at the neck. Oludara’s own neck tingled at the remembrance of his chains.
"The children!" yelled Isabel. She raced forward, Pasquale at her side. The other natives screamed a war cry behind them.
"Halt!" said Father Miguel.
The charge ended all at once, even though, from the faces, none were happy at the command. However, the force of Miguel’s voice left no room for challenge; even Oludara froze at the sound of it.
Antonio’s men turned at the commotion and lined up for battle, setting their harquebuses on props and aiming at the approaching group. In response, Father Miguel strode forward and held his arms wide. Antonio spotted him and called down his men. Miguel continued forward confidently, and the others followed behind.
As they came closer, Antonio spotted Gerard amidst the group a
nd bellowed, "Gerard, what are you doing here?"
Miguel ignored the comment and addressed him. "Antonio, what do you think you’re doing with these Christian souls?"
A thin-nosed, moustached man wearing a black bandana stepped forward. Oludara had never seen him before among Antonio’s men.
"Shouldn’t you be off scourging yourself somewhere?" he asked Father Miguel.
"Watch your tongue, Grilo" said Antonio. "Don’t you know who that is?"
"I know," replied Grilo, "but I don’t care much."
Pasquale leapt forward, but Miguel restrained him with a hand to his shoulder. Unperturbed, Miguel replied to the man with a smile, "We save the lashings of our disciplines for Saturdays."
Diogo whispered to Oludara and Gerard, "After your last escape, Antonio demoted me. In my place, he put that man, Belchior Grilo. If you thought Antonio was bad, Grilo makes him look like a saint."
"He makes quite a first impression," agreed Gerard.
Antonio looked to Diogo and Tinga. "I hope you’ve brought me these natives as captives."
"We follow you no longer, Antonio," said Diogo.
"Good riddance, then. You went soft long ago. The two of you are more hindrance than help. See how long you last on your own."
"If Gerard and Oludara can travel alone," said Tinga, "we can at least try to be as brave."
Antonio turned red and said, "I’ll allow you to live this time only because of the service you’ve done me in the past. But you’d best hope our paths never cross again."
Father Miguel interrupted, "Enough. Antonio, hand over the children. Release them quickly, and I won’t inform the governor of this transgression."
"We took these fair," replied Antonio, "by the governor’s own law."
"The law states that only natives taken in lawful battle can be enslaved. What battle did these children wage against you, I wonder?"
Antonio scratched at his beard. "Tell you what, Father. I’ll turn them over if you give me van Oost."
Gerard released the slightest of squeaks.
"I’m not here to bargain," said Father Miguel.
"What difference does one Protestant make to you?"
A Minacious Appearance (The Elephant and Macaw Banner - Novelette Series Book 8) Page 2
