Michener, James A. (7 page)

'I have a new master, Little Muleteer.'

'And I have a new father, Big Dancer.'

'What happens here?' the smiling bishop asked, and he was told that Andres Dorantes, one of the travelers across El Gran De-splobado who had owned the slave Esteban, had sold him to the viceroy for reasons not clearly understood, while Garcilaco's master had sold him to Fray Marcos for reasons left unexplained.

'So you two know each other?' the bishop asked. 'That's good. You can tell your stories to the viceroy.'

But before they were taken to that austere master of Mexico, Bishop Zumarraga wanted to satisfy himself on one point, and to do this he asked Garcilaco to stand before him and submit to questioning: 'Boy, vou traveled with Cabeza de Vaca?'

'I did.'

'And he spoke with you constantly, they tell me.'

'Yes.'

'And did he ever speak of the Seven Cities?' At this point the Moor shot Garcilaco a warning side glance, but to what purpose the boy could not determine, so he answered honestly: 'He spoke of them often.'

Before Zumarraga could question further, Esteban broke in with the start of the great deceit which would engulf many men and color the early history of Texas: 'Excellency, I saw the Seven Cities. They were glorious, and Cabeza de Vaca saw'them, too.'

When Garcilaco heard this lie he remembered the honest voice of Cabeza as they had talked on the way to Guadalajara: 'Lad, understand. This Indian woman, she had never seen the Cities, her mother claimed that she saw them. Nor had the Indian man ever seen them, a friend had reported that he had seen them. And certainly none of us Spaniards had come close to seeing them.'

But it was obvious that Bishop Zumarraga wanted to believe that everyone had seen them: 'So Cabeza de Vaca, wily man that he was, kept the secret of their wealth to himself?' As this question was asked, Garcilco could see Esteban smelling out the situation and identifying what those in authority wanted to hear, so in response to sharp questioning, the Moor divulged these supposed facts: 'The Cities have enormous wealth, the Indians assured us. When I asked about gold and silver, they cried "Yes!" Jewels, cloth, cows twice as big and fat as ours. Cabeza himself saw them, didn't he?' When everyone looked at Garcilaco, the boy had to nod, for this one small part of the statement was true. Cabeza had told him of the large cows with humps over their shoulders.

'Let us speak with the viceroy,' Zumarraga said as he called for his carriage, and off they hurried to meet the man who ruled Mexico.

Few men in history have looked more imperial than Don Antonio de Mendoza, Count of Tendilla, did that day. He was tall and properly lean; his mustache and beard had been neatly trimmed that morning by the barber who visited him each day, and when he looked at his visitors he seemed to regard everyone but the bishop as a peasant. He had sharp eyes which penetrated

nonsense and a deep, resounding voice accustomed to command. He was keenly interested in everything relating to New Spain, and even before his visitors were seated he plunged into discussion: Tell me, Bishop, what facts do we know about the Seven Cities?' and Zumarraga replied:

'Some say it was in a.d. 714 when Don Rodrigo of Spain lost his kingdom to the Muhammadans, but others with better cause say it was in 1150, in the reverent Spanish city of Merida. In either case, seven devout bishops, refusing to obey the infidel Moors who had conquered their city, fled across the ocean, and each bishop established his own powerful city. We've had many reports of the riches those good men accumulated and the wonders they performed, but we've not known exactly where they went. Many have searched for them, and I've even heard it claimed that the Italian Cristobal Colon was seeking the Seven Cities when he discovered our New World. All we know for certain is that the Seven Cities are grouped together.'

The viceroy pursed his lips, reflecting on what the clergyman had said. Then he asked bluntly: 'Do you believe the Cities exist?'

'Of a certainty.'

'Ah, but do they? Dorantes left a deposition which I read again only yesterday. He said he had met no one, not a single soul, who had actually seen them or known anyone who had.'

For some moments that November day no one spoke, and finally Bishop Zumarraga uttered words which summarized reasonable thought on the matter: 'God never works accidentally. It stands to Holy reason that if He placed Peru far down here, with its golden treasury, and Mexico here in the middle, with its wealth of silver, he must have balanced these two with some great kingdom up there. The Rule of Three, the rule of Christian balance, requires the Seven Cities to be where Cabeza de Vaca's Indians said they were. Excellency, it is our Christian duty to find them, especially since the seven bishops probably converted the area, which means that Christians may be there awaiting union with the Holy Mother Church in Rome.'

'My view exactly!' Fray Marcos cried, with the enthusiasm he always showed, after he, like Esteban, had decided what his superiors wanted to hear, but the viceroy made a more sober comment: 'If we send a conquistador north to the Seven Cities to bring them back into the fold of the church, who will pay the vast expense? Not the emperor in Madrid. He never risks a maravedi of his own money. I pay, from my own fortune and my wife's, and before I do that I want reasonable assurance of success.'

Suddenly his manner changed, his voice brightened, and he

asked: 'What have you heard about this young nobleman Francisco Vasquez de Coronado 7 ' and the bishop said quickly: 'He could lead your expedition. And he could help with the costs.'

'But we must not mount a great expedition—all those men and horses—before the region has been properly scouted.'

'That's why I sought this audience/ Bishop Zumarraga said, and with a bold sweep of his arm he indicated that Marcos, Esteban and Garcilaco were to leave the room.

As soon as only he and Mendoza were together, the bishop said: 'By the greatest good fortune, that friar who just left us is an excellent man with wide experience in the conquest of Peru. I find him a man of prudence and one to be trusted.'

When the viceroy asked if there was aught in the friar's history to be held against him, the bishop replied: '1 would be less than honest with you, Excellency, if I did not also share with you his three weaknesses. First, he has been in Mexico only briefly. Second, he is extremely ambitious, but are not, also, you and I? I cannot hold this a disqualifying fault. Third, he is not a Spaniard, but then, most of our emperor's subjects are Austrians, Lowlanders or Italians. The emperor himself is a German, or, if you wish, an Austrian.'

When the viceroy showed signs of accepting the friar, the bishop seemed eager to disclose even the smallest weakness lest he later be called to account: 'The final point, Excellency, is a delicate one. The boy you saw with him, this Garcilaco, stays by his side constantly, and who he is I cannot say for certain. Some claim he accompanied Marcos from Peru, and these insist that Garcilaco is his son. Others say he was acquired in Guatemala, in which case the boy must have been eight or nine when Marcos got him. Such suppositions are foolish, for we know he was already in Mexico traveling with Cabeza de Vaca. Others, with the better argument, I feel, say that the boy was an alley rat in the sewers of Vera Cruz when Marcos rescued him. You've seen the lad and he seems to show promise.'

'I think we had better question the friar and his boy more closely,' the viceroy said.

Garcilaco would always remember how proud he was of his father that day as the two faced Mendoza and Zumarraga. Marcos wore a voluminous robe made of the heavy fabric favored by the Franciscans, who were often called in the streets of the city 'Christ's little gray chickens,' a phrase he did not find amusing. He was obviously a serious man, and if upon first appearance he had any defect, it was his piercing gaze which revealed him to be a

fanatical believer, though what he believed in—the mystery of Christianity or his own destiny—no one could guess.

'Are you a Spaniard?' Mendoza asked bluntly.

'I'm a servant of Christ, and of the emperor, and of you, Viceroy, should you employ me.'

'But you were born in France, they say.'

'No, Excellency. In the city of Nice.'

'So you're a Savoyard 7 '

'No, Excellency, I'm Spanish. Through service to my church and emperor, I've made myself so.'

'Those are good words, Fray. Now tell me, who exactly is this lad who stands beside you?'

'I was ordered to bring him, Excellency.'

'Indeed you were,' Zumarraga broke in. 'Now explain.'

In the moment of silence which followed this abrupt command, all in the room looked at Garcilaco, and they saw the mystery in the boy. He was one of the first of Mexico's mestizo children, half Spanish, half Indian, that durable breed which even then seemed destined to take over Mexico and remote Spanish territories like the future Texas. In the audience room that day Garcilaco represented the future, a first ripple in the tremendous flood that would one day remake his land.

The boy heard Fray Marcos speaking: 'I have worked in lonely places, Excellencies, and one morning as I stepped off a boat in Vera Cruz, I saw this child here, a lost soul, no parents, no home . . .' He said no more.

'Who were your parents, son?'

Garcilaco shrugged his shoulders, not insolently but in honest ignorance: 'Excellency, here I am, just as I stand.'

For the first time the viceroy smiled. He then turned to Fray Marcos: 'If I gave you Esteban as your guide, could you scout the Seven Cities and then give some would-be conquistador, Coronado for example, instructions as to how to reach them?'

'I would be honored,' Marcos said with no hesitation, and so it was agreed, but after Bishop Zumarraga had taken his charges, and Esteban, from the hall, the viceroy mused:

Who are these strangers who just left my office? Is the friar a faithful Catholic or has he been corrupted by modern ideas? Why should Spain put its trust in such an unknown? And this Esteban, what is he? Dorantes when he sold him assured me he was a Moor. But what's a Moor? The Moors I knew were not black. They were white men bronzed by the sun. Look at him. He's not black. He's brown. And what

religion is he, pray tell me that? He was born a Muslim, like all Moors. When did he become a Christian? And how sincerely? And what of the boy? Is he the first of the mestizos who will be seeking power? Spain! Spain! Our emperor is a German. His Spanish mother who should be reigning is insane. And look at me, sending out an untested friar to find the new Peru, and a man of doubtful allegiance to be his guide. Where will it all end?

In order to ensure that at least one verifiable Spaniard participate in this critical venture, Mendoza asked Bishop Zumarraga to nominate as second-in-command a younger friar with impeccable credentials, and the cleric selected a Franciscan in whom he had great faith, Fray Honorato. Mendoza was delighted: The Spaniard can keep an eye on the Frenchman, and both can keep an eye on the Moor.'

But this canny safeguard did not work, because when the entourage was only a few days north of Culiacan, Honorato reported a slight indisposition: i don't feel well. Nothing, really, but . . .' With remarkable speed Fray Marcos bundled him up and sent him posting back to the capital. He was now in sole charge and intended to stay so.

But there was in the entourage a man just as ambitious as Marcos and even more flamboyant—Esteban, who, since he was the only one who had ever seen the north, now had to be promoted to second-in-command. Younger than Marcos, he matched him in brain power, and was vastly superior in knowledge of terrain and ability to work with Indians. He could speak in signs with many tribes, but more important, he displayed an exuberance which delighted the people of the villages through which the little army passed, and many who saw him shouted greetings, for they still remembered the magician who could heal.

When it came time to depart a village, more women would insist upon accompanying Esteban, so that his harem increased constantly. He had the capacity of being able to keep his many camp followers happy, and at one time nearly a hundred trailed along, singing with him, hunting food for him, and crowding his tent at night.

Fray Marcos was perplexed. He needed Esteban as guide; he resented him as competitor, and he deplored him for his immorality with women, but he could not even begin to know what to do with him. With no fellow friar to consult, all he could do was brood enviously as he watched Esteban preempt more and more of the leadership. It was becoming Esteban's expedition, and the Spanish soldiers recognized this.

'You must do something about the blackamoor,' they warned, but Marcos could not decide what.

However, sixteen days of this rich fol-de-rol was all he could stand, so on Passion Sunday, 23 March 1539, he proposed that Esteban should push on to scout the country through which the larger body of explorers would later pass. Since the black man could neither read nor write, an extraordinary convention was arranged, as Marcos would explain in the report he sent back to Mexico:

I agreed with Esteban that if he received any information of a rich, peopled land, he should not go farther, but that he return in person or send me Indians with this signal, which we arranged: that if the thing was of moderate importance, he send me a white cross the size of a hand; if it was something great, he send me a cross of two hands; and if it was something bigger and better than New Spain, he send me a large cross. And so the said Esteban, the black, departed from me on Passion Sunday after dinner, while I stayed on in this settlement.

The plan suited each man, for the white was overjoyed to be rid of the difficult Moor, who was equally pleased to be freed of the white, and he set forth in glory, carrying with him a horde which now totaled nearly three hundred singing and dancing Indian followers.

Garcilaco watched him as he left camp marching at the head of his own little brigade, swinging his rattles, leaping in the air now and then, shouting and exuding the joy he felt in serving as the spearhead of a conquering army.