Michener, James A. (8 page)

Just before dancing away, he leaped at Garcilaco and cried enthusiastically: 'Little man, we're conquering a continent. You and I will earn great titles and more gold than we can carry.' And into the dusty sunlight he led his happy band.

Four days after Esteban's departure, Indian messengers ran, gasping, into camp, one of them bearing not a small cross, nor a cross of two hands, nor even a large one, but a cross so huge that he could scarcely carry it. To confirm its significance, he said in broken Spanish: 'The Slack One, he has reached Indians who have told him of the greatest thing in the world. The Cities we seek lie just ahead, and they are far richer than Mexico.' One said that this concentration of wealth was known as the Seven Cities of Cibola, and when he uttered the words—Las Siete Ciudades de Cibola— they echoed with romance and cast a spell over all who heard them.

The first thing Fray Marcos did in this moment of wild excite-

ment was to kneel beside the big cross and pray, giving thanks that he would have an opportunity to restore to Christianity the thousands of souls whom the Spaniards would soon encounter. His prayer came from the very roots of his being, for although he did seek fame for himself and power for his king, his first and deepest commitment was to the glory of God—that stray souls now in darkness should be brought back to the light of Jesus Christ. It was a solemn moment, but after he had remained on his knees for some time, worldly ambition took over and he began to think of himself. Drawing Garcilaco down beside him, he whispered: it's wonderful that you and I should discover this great thing, for when the settlement is completed, I shall be leader of all the priests and monks, guiding them in the salvation of souls, and you shall command a kingdom, like Cortes and Pizarro.'

Now Fray Marcos began his great deception, for after having traveled less than three leagues to the west, he began to speak as if he had reached the Pacific Ocean, a distance of more than a hundred leagues. Why did he do such a thing?

Hope? He desperately wanted to be recognized as a great explorer and he knew that the Pacific lay somewhere to the west. Anxiety? He carried strict orders to determine how far away the Pacific Ocean lay, so that supplies for the impending conquest might be forwarded by sea, but he was so eager to attend the larger task of finding Cibola that he refused to be deterred by this lesser side trip to the ocean. Envy? He could not stand to have the former slave Esteban reap all the glory. Mental confusion? He had become so intoxicated with dreams that he ignored the requirement of substantiating them with reality. He dealt with soaring hopes, not facts.

But on Wednesday, 21 May, after evening prayers, those hopes received a harsh rebuff, for as he prepared for bed he heard someone shouting: 'Someone's coming!' and through the shadows he saw a bedraggled Indian, his face and body covered with sweat, stumble toward camp, weeping and moaning. When Marcos ran to him he wailed a pitiful story, which the scribe later reported in this manner:

'We were one day out of Cibola, and with due caution Esteban sent ahead a group of messengers bearing a calabash ornamented with cascabels, and two feathers, one white, one red. Something about the calabash infuriated the chief of Cibola, and he smashed it to the ground, crying: "If you come in to Cibola, you will be killed."

'When the messengers told this to Esteban, our leader laughed and assured us that this was nothing, and that he had learned from his long

travels that when an Indian chief exhibited irritation he proved later to be a good friend. So, ignoring our warnings, he marched boldly to Cibola, where he was denied entrance and thrown into a house outside the walls.

'All things were taken from him, trade articles and all, and he was allowed no food or drink, and in the morning we who watched saw with horror Esteban running to escape, followed by warriors from the city, and they slew him, and most of those who were with him.'

'Esteban is dead,' the Indians began to wail. 'Esteban's bones lie unburied, unhonored in the sand.' When Garcilaco heard this dreadful news, he wept for his dancing friend, but Marcos comforted him: This is but the story of one Indian, and who knows what his motives might be?' However, two days later more messengers from Cibola arrived, and their news was horrifying:

'Fray Marcos, see our wounds! Of all the warriors who traveled with Esteban to find the Seven Cities, hundreds have been slain, not counting the many women who were with us.'

Marcos and his soldiers now had to admit that Esteban and most of his dancing, riotous followers were dead, and that if they tried to force their way into Cibola, they, too, would be killed. So they halted where they were, many miles from the golden cities, and in their fear they turned back toward Mexico, and now Marcos concocted a second lie, the really massive one, and reported:

I asked that some of my men should go with me boldly to Cibola, but I could do nothing with them. In the end, seeing me determined, two chiefs said they would go with me, and I pursued my journey until within sight of Cibola, which 1 saw from a hill where I was able to view it. The city is bigger than La Ciudad de Mexico, and at times I was tempted to go to it, because I knew that I ventured only my life, which I had offered to God the day I commenced this journey, but at the end I refrained from doing so, considering the danger that if I died, I would not be able to make a report of this country, which to me appears the greatest and best of the discoveries.

Months later, when Garcilaco stood in the reception hall in the capital, listening as Fray Marcos told of these glories to Viceroy Mendoza, he stood silent and ashamed. He knew that his father had never been close to the Pacific Ocean or to the Seven Cities of Cibola, and as for the claim that Cibola was grander than Mexico City, that was a preposterous compounding of the lie. Why did the boy share in this duplicity? Why did he not cry

out to Mendoza 'Viceroy, these are lies! There are no Seven Cities.. There is no gold!' He was prevented by three considerations. He loved his father and refused to humiliate him. Also, despite what he had heard from Cabeza's own lips about his exploration of the region, Garcilaco still hoped that the cities of gold and their lost Christians existed. But most important was the matter of personal ambition, for after Marcos had told his infamous lies, the great Mendoza took Garcilaco aside and said: 'Son, you are one half-Indian who has a fine future in this country. Because of your good work on the mission, when General Coronado marches north I want you to accompany him as a guide.'

Like Cabeza de Vaca, like Esteban, like Marcos, and yes, like Viceroy Mendoza himself, the boy was seduced by the vision of what the land of many lands might be, and he kept silent.

GARCILACO WAS PROUD THAT THE OFFICIAL GUIDE FOR THE

Coronado expedition was to be his father, but he became apprehensive as to what the soldiers might do when they marched north only to find that the Seven Cities of Gold did not exist. When he asked Marcos about this, the friar airily dismissed such fears: 'The Cities must be there. You heard Bishop Zumarraga prove logically that they had to be.'

Garcilaco shrugged and turned his attention to his own affairs. Only fourteen, but a veteran traveler, he decided to use the great adventure as an opportunity to build foundations of honor and courage which he had seen exemplified so worthily in Cabeza. He endeavored to seem very military when they reported to the western town of Compostela, where the huge expedition was about to be reviewed by Viceroy Mendoza, who had authorized this venture.

First in line was Coronado, a handsome man, lithe, daring and extremely capable; he believed in God and in the destiny of the Spanish race, and he contemplated the conquest of a continent. Also, he could laugh easily, and he enjoyed being with soldiers, parading boldly in the vanguard when on parades like this one, but prudently sending out trained scouts when danger threatened.

Garcilaco's eyes widened when the first elements passed: two hundred and twenty-five horsemen, caballeros they were called, young gentlemen unaccustomed to manual work but eager for battle. 'Look!' the boy called to those about him, for now came a group of horsemen in full armor, some in metal, some in leather. They were a ferocious lot, and Garcilaco heard an official boast: 'Conquerors of Europe, Peru and Mexico! God help the Indian who makes a wrong move in their direction.'

Next came the spiritual representation for this great enterprise: five Franciscan friars, including Fray Marcos, heads high, thirsty to win distant souls to Jesus. How willingly he and his fellows had volunteered to share all dangers; they were indeed Soldiers of Christ.

Behind them marched sixty-seven foot soldiers—some of whom had campaigned triumphantly through the Lowlands and Austria —displaying the sophisticated weapons which had made them famous: harquebuses, those heavy matchlock pieces that threw devastating round balls at least a hundred feet; crossbows made of ash so strong that some had to be cocked by cranks which drew the cord back to firing position; pikes with hideous three-part jagged ends, fine for disemboweling; and all sorts of swords, daggers, stilettos and maces. And when these foot soldiers of Spain concealed their faces behind vizored helmets or in jet-black pots with slits for seeing, they struck terror in men's hearts.

More than two hundred personal servants followed, some Indian, some black, and eighty stable hands to tend the horses and see that the six cannon were brought forward in good condition.

Garcilaco enjoyed the end of the procession as much as the beginning, for here came more than a thousand Indian helpers, some in war paint, some with feathers, others with decorated clubs gleaming in the sun, all bowing to the viceroy, who nodded gravely as they passed. The next group caused the boy worry, for he could not comprehend how its members would participate in any battle: several hundred women, Indians and a few Spanish soldiers' wives, wearing beautiful flowers in their hair and bright shawls about their shoulders. Clouds of dust hovered in the air as these women went past. After them came the cows and sheep on which the marchers would feed.

At the rear, so valuable that they could be guarded by Spaniards only, came many horses, wonderful chargers of Spanish and Arab ancestry, bred for the most part in Mexico but with a substantial scattering of steeds imported directly from Spain. As animals of war, they had always created terror among the Indians of Mexico, and Coronado expected them to do so again. These precise figures can be cited because on this day of final review, 22 February 1540, the notary Juan de Cuebas of Compostela made careful record of every Spanish caballero or foot soldier present, noting what mounts and arms he brought, and Garcilaco watched as Cavalry-Captain Don Garcia Lopez de Cardenas stepped forward to have his property listed: Twelve horses, three sets of arms of Castilla, two pairs of cuirasses, a coat of mail.'

Late in arriving for the muster was Infantry-Captain Pablo de

Melgosa, a doughty little fellow with a perpetual smile, a great gap between his two big front teeth, hair in his eyes and a nose that had been pushed sideways by several fists. He came dustily into camp leading two small donkeys that could scarcely be seen beneath their load of armament. As soon as he stopped the beasts, he shouted for the notary to come and verify his possessions, and when Cuebas had his quills and papers ready, Melgosa began throwing things at his feet and announcing in a loud voice what they were.

Two harquebuses, both cast in Flanders. Two crossbows, and note that each is worked by gears. Those two donkeys.'

'We don't list donkeys,' Cuebas said haughtily, resting his quill above the paper.

Ignoring this rebuke, the enthusiastic young captain resumed his listing: 'A gallegan of the best Austrian manufacture. This buckskin jacket, this black pot helmet from Toledo.'

After this minor armory had been recorded, Melgosa began divesting himself of things he carried on his body: Two swords, also of Toledo. Dagger. Knife with ivory handle. Two knee pieces, which you can see are of the best steel and leather. Gauntlets with brass fittings across the knuckles. And two stilettos.' Any jovial man so accoutered was bound to become Garcilaco's favorite, and in those first days he became Melgosa's part-time page, hoping to learn honor and the arts of war from him.

Garcilaco divided his time between Fray Marcos and his new hero, Infantry-Captain Melgosa, the walking arsenal, who was a joy to be with, for he was an adventurous, rowdy man who never feared to challenge the presumptions of the cavalry.

'Look at them!' he sneered one night as the unwieldy caravan stumbled to a halt. 'Not a man among these dandies knows how to pack a horse. Ten more days of this and those mounts will be dead.' Each gentleman officer had to transport his personal belongings on his own male horses, while the heavy burdens of the expedition were carried by mares and mules. But even the lighter burdens assigned to the horses could be damaging if improperly stowed, and when Garcilaco watched the caballeros, he saw that Melgosa was right; they were killing the creatures on which they depended.

Melgosa was particularly harsh in his condemnation of Cavalry-Captain Cardenas: 'He ought to know better. Those are excellent horses he has, the best. And he's destroying them.' Now Garcilaco observed the fiery captain, and he could see that Cardenas had no regard for his beasts' welfare.

One morning as the cavalry was packing, Garcilaco made bold

to address the captain: 'Sir, why don't you distribute your loads more evenly?'

'Why is that your concern?'

'Your best horse is getting deep sores.'

'I leave such matters to the Indian slaves.'

'But they're still your animals. Look, you have five that can no longer serve.'

'Could you do better?' he snapped.

'I could,' and when Cardenas saw how expertly the young muleteer could pack a beast, and care for it when the pack was unloaded, he appointed Garcilaco to mind his string, and the horses mended so quickly that on one unforgettable morning as the expedition approached the northern limits of civilized Mexico, the gruff captain said: 'You can ride that brown mare,' and thus the boy became a member of the cavalry.