by Eric Black
“Juan,” Diego said, stepping to the side allowing full view of the priest, “this is my good friend. I just call him Priest.” Diego winked. “He always answers to that so I stick with it.”
“Father,” Juan welcomed, clasping the priest’s extended hand.
Diego motioned towards Juan. “I’d like to introduce you to Juan Ponce de Leon.”
The priest nodded. “I’m honored.”
“Thank you, Father. I’m also honored to have you in my home. So,” he said, turning to Diego, “what do you think of my house?”
“Small but cozy. The smell fits you. Dog owner?”
Juan smiled. “Not quite. The previous owners had a couple of mutts. The smell of wet dog will fade with time. I’m not sure the smell of piss will, though. Come, won’t you have a seat?” Juan took the men through the living room into the kitchen where he offered them a glass of iced tea. Both men accepted. “I remember when tea was scarce. Diego, do you remember the trade routes that brought tea to Spain? Now we buy it at every local grocery store.”
They enjoyed a moment of silent reflection while sipping the iced beverage. Diego breached the stillness. “How is the fountain?”
“Always the same. I go there most evenings. During the summer, Cherubim is very still as there are children playing in the fountain. But if I stay long enough, I can see him watching me.”
“Can we go there?” the priest asked.
Juan had been studying the priest. He recognized that Diego had told the priest some of their story but not all. The priest would have many questions and they were in for a lengthy evening. “Sure, why not,” Juan answered.
Juan led the way, walking the two blocks from his house to the park that housed the fountain. The day had been searing but the evening was now much cooler. It was early summer and while the temperature fluctuated almost by the hour, the evenings were still relatively comfortable. They walked past several closed storefronts until they reached the open staircase that led down to the park. Once inside, the priest was mesmerized by the fountain.
Juan led them to the three-tiered amphitheater style seating. “You know others have died?” Juan asked Diego as they sat.
Diego nodded. “Yes, I felt it. Do you know what happened?”
“Not yet. But I’m sure we will soon enough. I would imagine if they were targeted, then we are on that same list.”
“It’s been a while since you and I were in such circumstances.”
“Yes, it has.” Juan looked over at the priest. “Father, what do you make of all this?”
“I’m not quite sure. I know that we are in America yet we did not take a plane. I would say that’s a bit odd.”
Juan smiled. “Yes, odd is as good a word as any to describe all of this. Has Diego told you about us?”
The priest nodded. “He has told some of who he is and his work in Ethiopia.”
“Do you believe what he says?”
“I am a man of faith. There is much I believe that others do not. But even so, I would not have believed him to the level I do if I was not sitting here now.”
“Why don’t I start from the beginning? You are part of this now. It’s only fair for you to know that in which you are involved.”
Juan inhaled and began his tale.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Back then, Diego and I were rivals, searching for the land of Bimini. Neither of us had any idea what the discovery would change.”
Juan ascertained what he thought then was an island. Diego found that same land days later and ordered an attack on Juan’s ships by natives.
Juan’s crew survived the skirmish but one of their ships was not so fortunate. In the process of the attack, they captured three assailants. It was with those three assailants that the actual story began.
Juan recalled walking below deck of the Santiago to speak with the strange men. As he cleared the stairs, he saw the three warriors chained to the underbelly of the ship. All three men were swathed in blood from beatings at the hands of Juan’s crew and at least one of the men had broken ribs.
With Juan that morning were his three captains and a ruthless sailor name Eduardo. It was Juan’s intent to extract information from the men by any means. To press upon the men that his intent was non-negotiable, Juan ordered the death of one of the warriors before he asked his first question.
Eduardo smiled grimly and drew his sword, sliding the cold steel into the gut of the closest warrior. The warrior stiffened and glared at Eduardo odiously but did not cry out. Eduardo slowly drew the sword upwards into the man’s chest, enjoying the work. A deep grunt escaped the warrior as his organs fell onto the floorboards, yet he remained stoic. Finally, the blade pierced the man’s heart and the warrior slid forward lifeless.
The killing did not impinge on the two warriors. It did, however reveal to them that Juan had power.
He asked his first question in Taino, the language of the native people of Puerto Rico. “Who are you?”
The warriors understood well enough. “Calusa.”
“Why did you attack our ships?”
The glower in their eyes made it clear that they were not afraid of him. For a moment, there was no reaction and Juan considered his options. Then, an unexpected answer came. “Columbus,” the taller warrior responded.
That single word surprised Juan and his face betrayed him. The tall warrior smiled knowingly.
Juan decided to come back to that line of questioning. “What of the healing waters?”
“The Snake River,” the shorter Calusa answered. He stared unflinchingly into Juan’s eyes.
The Snake River? Juan repeated to himself. He questioned them further and learned that the Snake River was a source of power to their people. Their High Priest knew the path to the waters, having been there many years prior.
The river was a month and a half journey to the north. Can La Florida be this large? “Tell me of Columbus.”
They told Juan that Diego arrived a few days after him.
“Why is he here?” Juan asked.
“He is here for your power.”
Juan pressed them and learned much about Diego’s plan. He also learned that Diego had help. With that he left them chained in the belly of the ship next to their dead companion. He retreated to his cabin and his thoughts.
The following morning, Juan ordered one of his ships to set sail back to Spain with Captain Buono helming the voyage. Buono was ordered to file Juan’s claim to La Florida with the courts; the two Calusa warriors would accompany. Juan’s expectation for Buono was to learn from them and at the same time, present them to the King as an example of the impetuous people that would be under service of the crown in the new land.
During the passage, Buono learned much about Calusa culture. The two warriors were nobles in the tribe: a distinction attained through success in combat. Each tribe had a High Priest who performed a ceremony before the warriors partook in battle, consulting with their god of warfare. No Calusa army would fight without assertion by the High Priest that their god would give surety of victory.
Buono was astounded with the complexities of Calusa culture. Equally, the Calusa were staggered by what Spain presented. They were taken before the King and added credence to Juan’s claim on the new island (the five thousand pesos didn’t hurt Juan’s cause), just as Juan had anticipated. The documentation was produced and Juan was now Governor of La Florida.
Three weeks into the journey back, Buono watched the morning sky stretch above the sails. As he studied the firmament for signs of rain, the taller warrior – Antonio came up next to him. “Buenos días,” Antonio offered. His Spanish had become quite proficient.
“Buenos días.”
“We’re sailing back to my land?” Antonio asked.
“Aye. We still have some time to travel but that is our destination.”
“I look forward to meeting Juan again, this time not as an adversary. I am glad he was not harmed in the attack by my people.”
“He’s a good man,” Buono agreed. “I’d die fighting at his side.”
Antonio rubbed the scars on his right arm as he thought of the attack on Juan’s ships. He looked up at Anton who manned the wheel. Anton had been a fierce in battle which surprised him because Anton was a very thin man and appeared sickly.
Buono considered Antonio. He had been uncertain about Juan’s order to present the Calusa warriors to Spain but was now glad he had been given the opportunity. Antonio and he had become close.
It took some time for the warriors to be allowed free from their chains. But soon they began to trust Buono and Buono began trusting them. A month into the journey, the chains were removed.
By Spain, they were as civilized as any of Buono’s crew. Two more interesting men had never been presented to the King.
Soon after Buono left to cross the waves of the Atlantic, Juan and the rest of his men traveled north. The sandy beaches gave way to forests and then to mountains.
They had been deep in the mountains for nearly two months when they came upon a valley. In the northwest corner of that valley, the sun mirrored off a body of water. From their arrangement on the mountain, Juan’s eyes followed the flow of the water as it came in from the west before disappearing into the far mountains of the horizon. They had found the Snake River.
The moment was very surreal and caught Juan’s breath. It was Eduardo who brought him back to reality. “People.”
Juan blinked as if returning from the haze a daydream and looked at Eduardo’s outstretched finger. Juan’s gaze followed to a village on the north bank of the river.
Juan paused to gather his thoughts. “We will rest today,” he decided. “I know you men are strong but I’m an old man.” The men laughed. “We’ll rest tomorrow as well for tomorrow we begin traveling by night.”
The following evening, the camp was packed and Juan summoned the men around him. “We’ll march west across the backside of this ridge. I don’t know what awaits us as we reach the Snake River but we’ll be ready. We are killers: if we’re discovered and the men of the village below attack, they’ll feel Spain in their guts.”
“Aye and in their flanks!” was called out. The men laughed in approval.
Juan smiled at his men. “We’ll continue until we reach the west inlet of the river. Eduardo,” Juan called out, “lead them.”
Eduardo led the way westward but it was dodgier than they anticipated. The mountain was treacherous. The ground offered loose rocks and small crevices that made walking slow. Two of the men twisted an ankle and one twisted a knee. Slow as it was, however, they continued to move.
During the day they rested and Juan kept his eyes on the village. One day as he was observing the settlement, Eduardo joined him. “Have you seen dwellings such as these before?” Eduardo asked.
“They are unlike any I have seen in quite some time,” Juan replied.
The buildings of the village were wood and were long, some perhaps thirty feet, although they appeared to be much narrower in width. They had only one entrance as far as Juan could tell. In each roof was a small hole from which a single trail of smoke dissipated. “I have seen these buildings in the Northlands.”
“The Northlands? You’ve been there?” Eduardo asked surprised.
“Aye, I was an ambassador from Spain to those lands. Very cold as you would imagine. The men there build great halls similar to those below, although in the Northlands they are larger and inside, the kings host great feasts. They are a very sturdy and interesting people. I look back on those years with fond memories.”
Juan stared off as he remembered the mighty kings he had known. Some of the most fearless warriors and most cherished friends he had met there. Many of them were dead by the time he returned to Spain; the life of a Northman was often cut short by an axe or sword.
He realized he had been lost in thought and looked over at Eduardo. The soldier regarded him with great respect and admiration. “I believe we would find the men below a remarkable people as well,” Juan commented.
“Thank you for your thoughts, sir. Also, your watch is over. I have come to relieve you.”
“Do a better job of paying attention than I do.” Juan flashed a smile before disappearing down the backside of the mountain.
Just before dark, Juan woke to a commotion. He instinctively grabbed his sword and opened his eyes. He ran towards the noise and saw the commotion was an animal in the camp. Some of the men tried to seize the animal as it made its getaway with some of the salted deer.
The animal was cornered against boulders and it began gnashing small, sharp teeth at the soldiers, growling its displeasure. Its bushy tail twitched in anger and the black stripe across its eyes added to the robber mystique.
The animal found an escape route and took it: right through one of the soldier’s spread legs. Then, it disappeared down the mountainside. The soldier was punched in the arm for letting the animal get away and blushed as the other soldiers laughed.
They packed up camp and traveled ten miles that night. The terrain had become less rocky and the ground flush. As the morning sun rose, they looked out over a second valley at the end of which loomed a large mountain.
They made camp and slept, rising at dusk. The guard of that day was especially leery as the valley floor offered stretches of slight protection. They waited for the moon to rise before moving forward. The plan was to ascend the mountain and approach the river from the backside of that mountain.
By midnight they were halfway across and a sense of uneasiness came across Juan. He was certain they were being observed. “Quiet!” Juan whispered.
The men stopped their march. They did not unsheathe their swords for fear of the blades reflecting in the moonlight but they gripped the handles and loosened them in their scabbard. The only sound was the faint resonance of their breathing and the occasional creaking of leather as the men repositioned for a better combat position.
Juan looked around, his head on a slow swivel. They had reached a part of the valley filled with a small groves of trees and there were many places an ambush could happen.
The stillness dragged on and the moon broke free of a cloud, flooding the woods with moonlight. Juan looked to his left as a man stepped out from the trees. The men drew their swords and Eduardo charged but Juan raised his hand in a command to stand down.
The man was very old. His skin, darkened from the sun, looked black in the night. The moonlight shadowed his wrinkled face, making it look fierce. His hair was black and almost unseen in the pitch. He displayed no emotion as he stared at them.
Juan and the old man studied each other for several moments. Neither spoke. Finally, the old man nodded and the valley was filled with warriors. Juan cursed at how easily they had been ambushed.
The warriors were armed with bows and their faces resembled wraiths. Juan was not afraid but he could see how a man could be terrified by the sight of these warriors. If it had been daylight, Juan would have observed that each warrior, including the old man had the same cold gray eyes.
No words were said as Juan and his men were taken to the village.
CHAPTER FIVE
The ascension of the sun over the mountains marked their entrance into the village. Canoes moved them across the river and they were met by additional hardened warriors. Juan was intrigued at their uncanny resemblance to one another.
They reached the center of the village and the group stopped. There, Juan was separated from his men and the old man guided him down a path that continued beyond the village with three armed warriors in tow. At the end of that path, a small clearing breached onto the Snake River.
In the clearing, time seemed to slow and the sound of the river invaded his awareness. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the water. It reminded him of the open sea. He opened his eyes and for the first time, Juan noticed a small hut. The other buildings of the village housed at least twenty men but the hut was built for just one.
The old man led Juan behind th
e hut and then he saw it; previously obscured by the hut was a fountain.
Juan’s breath caught in his throat. It appeared as though from some other world or time and was cleverly hidden between the hut and surrounding trees. It was assembled entirely of stone and amassed around the fountain were chiseled animals also of stone. Among them was a creature Juan had first seen as an ambassador to the land of Ethiopia: a lion.
Juan turned and faced the old man. He felt very vulnerable and confused. Then, to Juan’s surprise the old man spoke Spanish, “This is what you seek?”
Juan paused for a moment and considered the question. “Aye.”
“Ah,” the old man replied, “so it was foretold.”
“Foretold?” The old man had Juan’s attention.
“By your friend,” the old man smiled, “Christopher Columbus.”
Juan stiffened and glowered at the old man. “Christopher Columbus?” he demanded.
The old man continued to smile which had a disarming effect. He gestured towards the hut. “Please come in.” Juan looked down the trail they had come. “Your men will not be harmed. You are safe here,” the old man assured Juan. He nodded and the warriors marched back down the trail to the village.
“Please.” He gestured towards the hut again before ducking under the low doorway of the hut and disappearing inside. Juan followed.
Inside, Juan was overwhelmed by the tang of smoke from a single fire. Pungent leaves were bundled and hung from the walls; the combination of the smoke and sickly sweet leaves left Juan lightheaded.
The old man invited him to sit on the earthen floor and began speaking softly. “Christopher Columbus first came here many years ago.”
Juan could not believe what he was hearing. Christopher had never mentioned anything of the island, the village or the fountain. The old man waited patiently for Juan to process what he had told him. “Was it he who taught you to speak Spanish?” Juan asked.
The old man laughed. “Columbus was just as surprised as you that I spoke his language.”
