Serafina's Stories

by Rudolfo Anaya

  The Governor thanked the captain and ordered the Indians brought in, so their names and the charges against them could be entered into the record.

  When the prisoners were gathered in the office, the secretary asked them if they spoke Spanish. All nodded. He then proceeded to read the charges against them, warning them of the seriousness of each indictment. Charges of insurrection against a colony of the King of Spain were punishable by life imprisonment, or by death.

  Everyone present in the dimly lit room remembered that the first governor of New Mexico had ordered one foot cut off each of twenty-four Indians from Acoma Pueblo who had attacked Spanish soldiers. Many Acoma women and children had been sold into slavery.

  A chill permeated the small room. One by one each prisoner stepped forward and gave his baptismal Spanish name. The Governor looked up in surprise when the twelfth prisoner responded “me llamo Serafina.”

  Both the Governor and the secretary looked closely at the prisoner, as did the guards.

  “Did you say Serafino?” the secretary asked.

  “No, Serafina.” The voice was that of a woman.

  In the dim light cast by the burning candles the Governor realized the prisoner was a young woman.

  “Remove your manta,” he ordered.

  The young woman removed the blanket that had covered her head and shoulders, letting loose a cascade of long, black hair that spilled over her shoulders.

  The Governor stood. “Capitán. Did you know this prisoner was a woman?”

  “No, Your Excellency,” the captain sputtered. “The prisoners were bound and brought in as you see them now. Because of the cold I allowed some to keep their blankets. As you can see—”

  “No matter,” the Governor interupted. “We must proceed.” He looked at the prisoners. “You have heard the charges read against you. You are accused of conspiring to incite revolution. This is a serious threat. If the charges prove right, you will be accused of treason against His Most Royal Majesty.”

  The prisoners stood with heads bowed, saying nothing. The Governor’s captains understood the severity of the situation. If these leaders of the insurrection were not punished, tomorrow there would be new plans to revolt against Spanish rule. And tomorrow and tomorrow. The Governor was right. The leaders of this rebellious plot had to be dealt with harshly.

  “What do you suggest?” the Governor asked don Alfonso.

  “There are two possibilities,” the secretary answered. “Each man could be sentenced to die. That is the most severe punishment of the law. Or each man could be flogged publicly in the plaza and sold into slavery. That would be the least severe punishment.”

  A shudder passed through the Indian prisoners. They did not fear death or a public whipping. What they feared was being sold as slaves to work the mines of Zacatecas, never to see their families again, never to see their sacred homeland again. For them, this punishment was worse than death.

  The Governor looked at Serafina. Even exhausted and muddied as she was, she kept her poise. She was the only one looking directly at him. Putting her to death would not be one of his options.

  He turned to the secretary. “Should the prisoners be tried individually or as a group?”

  “I suggest we try them one by one,” the secretary replied. “In that way the natives from the pueblos who come to attend the trials can report each day back to their pueblos on the proceedings.”

  “Very well,” the Governor said. “We will try the first prisoner tomorrow morning.” He turned to a young captain, Capitán Márquez, who had spent a year in the university at Salamanca. “Capitán Márquez, you will act as attorney for the prisoners.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency,” the captain replied.

  “Very well. We assemble tomorrow in the portal. Take the prisoners back to the jail.”

  As the prisoners were led out of the room the Governor stopped Serafina.

  “You are too young to be plotting revolution,” he said.

  “I am my father’s helper,” she replied.

  “Ah, so you follow your father’s guidance. His name did not appear on our list. Will he come to attend the trial?”

  “Now that you have taken us prisoners, none of the elders will come to speak to you. Trust has been broken.”

  “I see,” said the Governor. “You speak Spanish very well. Who taught you?”

  “I was brought up in the mission church by the friars.”

  “And still you plotted with the men against our rule?”

  “What you call a plot was a gathering of elders from the different pueblos. We met to discuss how our people suffer this winter. We were ready to send a delegation to meet with you to discuss how little corn we have left and how few buffalo robes.”

  The Governor was surprised by the young woman’s calm. Normally the Indians looked at the ground when they addressed a Spanish officer, but this girl looked directly into his eyes. She was fearless.

  “Do you believe in God?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you cannot believe in pagan gods.”

  “They are my ancestral gods,” Serafina answered. “They all live together—”

  “Nonsense!” the Governor scoffed, advancing on the girl until he loomed over her, a threatening presence.

  Serafina stood her ground.

  “Heresy,” the secretary muttered.

  The Governor turned and looked at don Alfonso, who had been recording the proceedings. “Enough,” he said. “Leave the room.”

  The old man wrinkled his brow, then picking up his quill, ink well, and papers he hurried out.

  The Governor looked at the girl. He realized that beneath the day’s grime and fatigue stood a young woman no older than fifteen.

  “Sit down,” the Governor commanded, and he too sat. He stared at the girl and she at him. “Do you know what will happen to you for joining those plotting against His Majesty’s rule?”

  “I will be made a slave,” she replied.

  “Yes,” said the Governor, leaning forward on his desk. “I have to make an example of you and your fellow rebels. Each of you will be flogged in public, then sent as slaves to the mines in Zacatecas.”

  Even in the dim candlelight the Governor saw a shadow cross the girl’s face for the first time.

  “Separated from our families,” she whispered.

  “Yes. If I do not punish you severely others will follow in your footsteps. My people depend on me for their safety.”

  “And the cruelest punishment is to send us away from our homes, our sacred earth?”

  The Governor nodded. He knew how much the circle of the pueblo meant to the natives. It was their universe. To be ostracized from community and family was a punishment far worse than death.

  Yes, the Governor knew what it meant to be driven from one’s homeland. He, too, had been sent away—to this miserable northern kingdom to govern an unruly settlement, to deal with friars who constantly disobeyed him, and to safeguard colonists who often complained of his rule.

  “The first man will be tried tomorrow,” the Governor said, returning to his seat. He was tired. The knowledge of what he had to do weighed heavily on him. He wished there were a way out of the predicament—something he could trade for the allegiance of the natives.

  For a long time they sat in silence until Serafina spoke.

  “You are a prisoner, like us.”

  “What?” the Governor responded. He laughed. “Me, a prisoner? That’s ridiculous.”

  Then the smile left his face. Did the girl have the ability to read his mind? He had heard that some of the natives possessed the gift of divination.

  “Are you one of those we call brujos?” he asked.

  A faint smile crossed her lips. “No, I am a storyteller.”

  “Do you know our cuentos?”

  “Yes. When your people visit our pueblo they tell stories. My mother has learned many, and she taught them to me.”

  “I love a good story,” mused the Governor. �
��I read the few books that I can have shipped to me from Spain. But there is no substitute for a good story. Let’s see how clever you are. Tell me one.”

  “I will, for a price.”

  “Ah, you sell your stories! Very well, what is the price?”

  “If you like my story you must free the man you plan to try tomorrow.”

  “Free the prisoner? Nonsense.”

  “But you cannot lose the wager,” she said. “If you don’t like the story you don’t set him free.”

  The Governor chuckled. The winter nights were long, and for ages, it seemed, he had not been able to sleep.

  “My mother used to tell me stories when I was a child,” he mused. “Her voice lulled me to sleep.”

  He stopped himself. This was ridiculous. He should not speak this way in front of a native.

  “All right. I agree. Tell me a story, and if I like it I will free your fellow prisoner tomorrow.”

  Again he chuckled. How could he lose? Perhaps the girl knew the cuentos, but it took a special talent to make the old stories come alive.

  “It’s a bargain,” Serafina said, and she began her story.

  TWO

  Juan del Oso

  A long time ago in the village of Questa there lived a man and his wife. They had a lovely daughter whose name was Aida. Many young men came to court her, but her parents guarded her carefully. Each day they took her to the fields to tend the corn, beans, and chile they grew.

  The village of Questa was located at the foot of high, rugged mountains. Bears sometimes came down from the sierra to eat elotes, the tender corn. The father warned Aida to be careful because he had seen the tracks of a large bear nearby.

  One day when her parents were busy with other tasks, Aida went to the garden alone. She was picking corn when suddenly a giant bear appeared. Before she could scream or run, the bear picked her up and carried her to his cave in the mountain.

  The bear didn’t harm Aida. To be quite truthful, he fell in love with her. So he decided to keep her prisoner in his cave. Each day when the bear left in search of food, he would block the entrance with a gigantic boulder. In this way Aida could not escape.

  Aida’s parents searched everywhere for her, but they couldn’t find her. After some time they stopped looking for her and resigned themselves to their loss.

  That spring Aida gave birth to a son. She baptized him Juan del Oso, John of the Bear.

  Juan grew quickly, and by the time he was a year old he could talk. By the time he was two, he was six feet tall. Aida was happy with her son. By the time he was six she had taught him spelling and numbers, and she had told him stories about her home and her parents. They were Juan’s grandparents, and she wished they could see their grandson.

  —Why can’t we visit them? Juan asked one day.

  —Bear puts a boulder at the entrance each time he leaves. We cannot move it.

  —Oh yes I can, Juan said. He went straight to the entrance, leaned against the heavy boulder, and easily moved it aside.

  Juan and his mother ran quickly out of the cave and down the mountain. They were nearing her parents home when they heard grunting and growling behind them. It was Bear!

  He will punish us for escaping, thought Juan. I must save my mother.

  —Go on! he shouted and turned to meet an angry Bear.

  Juan and the Bear fought a tremendous battle. Tall pine trees fell as they struggled. Boulders crashed from the mountain top. Finally Juan was able to kill Bear.

  He ran to his mother and together they went to her parents’ home. The old man and woman were overjoyed to have their daughter back, and delighted they now had a grandson.

  That fall they sent Juan to school, but he was so big the children made fun of him. Juan picked up six boys and threw them against a wall, breaking a few of their bones. The parents of the boys complained, and Juan could no longer attend school.

  —I must go and seek my fortune, he said. Make me a sheep-herder’s staff so I may tend sheep.

  Forty men cut down the tallest pine tree they could find and shaped the staff. Groaning under the weight they carried it to Juan. He picked it up with one hand.

  Juan said goodbye to his mother and grandparents and set off. As he walked he saw a buffalo. He killed it with one blow of his staff and had it for a meal.

  Later Juan met a man by the side of a river. The man carried a huge shovel in one hand.

  —Who are you? asked Juan.

  —I am Moves Rivers, the man replied.

  —I am Juan del Oso. Why don’t we travel together?

  —Very well, said Moves Rivers. But I am the leader.

  —You can be the leader if you can lift my staff.

  Moves Rivers tried to lift Juan’s staff but he couldn’t. Then Juan picked up Moves Rivers’s shovel and with one scoop he made the Río Grande.

  —You are stronger, Moves Rivers said. You be the leader.

  They walked on until they met another giant of a man who carried a pick.

  —Who are you? asked Juan.

  —I am Moves Mountains.

  —You can come with us if you can lift my shepherd’s staff, said Juan.

  Moves Mountains tried to lift the huge staff but couldn’t. Then Juan took the pick, stuck it in the ground, and created the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

  —You are the leader, Moves Mountains said reluctantly.

  The three became thieves, stealing from the ox-drawn wagons that went from Santa Fé to Chihuahua.

  One day Juan and Moves Mountains left Moves Rivers at their camp while they went hunting. He was to have supper ready when they returned later that day.

  Moves Rivers cooked twenty buffalo for dinner and sat down to rest. Soon the Devil appeared, disguised as an old, gnarled dwarf. He kicked dirt on the food.

  Moves Rivers jumped up to punish the dwarf, but the dwarf was so strong he gave Moves Rivers a beating and left him with a cracked skull.

  When Juan and Moves Mountains returned they found their friend in a terrible state. They asked him what had happened.

  —I climbed a tree to see if I could see you, he said. I fell and cracked my skull.

  The next day it was Moves Mountains’ turn to stay in camp and prepare dinner. He cooked twenty buffalo and sat down to rest. Along came the Devil disguised as an ancient man; he kicked dirt on the dinner.

  An angry Moves Mountains accosted the Devil, but the Devil was so strong he gave the poor fellow a terrible beating.

  When the two friends returned and asked what had happened, Moves Mountains said he, too, had climbed a pine tree and fallen.

  The following day it was Juan’s turn to stay in the camp. He was very hungry, so he cooked forty buffalo and lay down to rest. Shortly thereafter the Devil appeared and kicked dirt on the food. Juan grabbed the Devil, and a terrible fight ensued. Juan knocked the Devil down with his staff and tore off his ear. The Devil ran away, howling with pain.

  Juan put the ear in his pocket and followed. He came to a large cave where the Devil disappeared inside. Juan peered into the cave and saw that it was very deep. Juan knew the Devil always hides a treasure in deep caverns. He returned to camp with a plan.

  When the two friends arrived they accused Juan of running away from the dwarf.

  Juan laughed and showed them the Devil’s ear.

  —Here’s the pine tree you two climbed, he said, shaming his friends for lying.

  He told them about the Devil’s cave. The next day he bought a strong rope and a bell from some merchants passing through.

  The three went to the cave and let down the rope with the bell tied at the end. Moves Rivers climbed down the rope, but a terrible wind forced him to ring the bell, and they pulled him out. Then Moves Mountains tried climbing down, but he too found the wind too strong and they pulled him out.

  Finally Juan climbed down; his staff was so heavy the wind couldn’t dash him against the rocks. He climbed safely to the floor of the cave.

  Juan remembered his grand
parents telling a story about a cave full of buried treasure. He thought he might find gold and other precious stones.

  He came to a door and opened it. To his astonishment he found a beautiful young woman in the room.

  —Who are you? he asked.

  —I am the king’s daughter, she replied. The Devil wanted my two sisters and me to marry his three sons, but my father refused. The Devil cast a spell on us and made us prisoners. The giant who guards my room will return at any moment. You must get away or he will kill you.

  —I’m not afraid of giants, Juan replied.

  At that moment the giant appeared. He was the most horrible creature imaginable. He grabbed at Juan but Juan was too swift. He gave the giant a blow with his shepherd’s staff and killed him.

  The young woman was overjoyed at being freed.

  —You are my savior, she said. Now if only you could rescue my two sisters who are prisoners in the other rooms.

  —I will, Juan said. But first I have to get you out of this cave. He tied the rope around her slim waist and rang the bell. Moves Rivers and Moves Mountains pulled her up. Imagine their surprise when they saw a lovely young woman at the end of the rope.

  She told the two how Juan had killed the giant and was now rescuing her sisters. They should all wait there at the entrance to the cave to see if he was successful.

  In the meantime Juan approached a second door sealed with a giant boulder. Juan easily moved it aside and met the second lovely sister.

  —I freed your sister, Juan explained, and I will free you.

  —You cannot. I am guarded by a tiger that sleeps in the cave. You must flee before he devours you!

  At that moment the tiger awakened and rushed at Juan. Juan was so agile he sidestepped the tiger and gave it a blow with his staff, killing the fierce animal.

  —Oh thank you, the young woman said. You are my savior. Now if you could only rescue our youngest sister. She is in a room guarded by a huge snake.

  —First we must get you out of here, Juan said.

  He took her to the rope and tied it around her waist. Then he rang the bell and Moves Rivers and Moves Mountains pulled her up. Imagine how delighted the two sisters were to be reunited outside the Devil’s cave!