The Ten Incarnations of Adam Avatar (14 page)

‘Then why offer a defence at all?' Zumárraga asked, seeming to be fascinated in spite of himself.

I drew a deep breath. ‘Because I believe this court, as an instrument of the Church, must understand the greater evil, an evil far greater than heresy, being promulgated throughout the King's empire. Because I hope the Court will be merciful and grant me a quick death, sparing me the
auto de fe
.'

Zumárraga stiffened. ‘So you reject the possibility of atonement?'

For the first and only time in the trial, my calm broke. ‘Have you not been listening?' I shrieked. ‘I have done nothing since that day but try to atone!'

The Inquisitor's expression never changed. ‘By killing other Spaniards – oh, I beg the court's pardon. By killing
true
Spaniards?'

At that point I knew there was no hope for mercy. My blood was tainted. So I will only synopsize the Inquisitor's summing up, and then confess, Holy Father, the true reasons I did what I did after the day I murdered my mother. Zumárraga was determined to bring the full weight of the court against me. Arguing that my own words had clearly revealed me to be guilty of
fomes peccati
– igniting the ‘tinder of sin' – he argued that, even after so many years awaiting trial, I showed none of the penitence which would lead to the lighter sentence of the prison galleys.

The Vicar-General agreed, but pointed out that I had confessed to my sins and therefore should be garrotted rather than burned. But Zumárraga argued that I was clearly a heretic and heresy was the worst of all sins because it killed the soul rather than the body. That was the very reason, he said, for the existence of the Court, at which point the Vicar-General said he did not need a lesson in legal history from the Inquisitor.

He then turned to me and delivered the standard adjuration: ‘You behold us sincerely afflicted at your culpable obstinacy. We pray that Heaven will endow you with the spirit of repentance and contrition. Do not grieve us by persisting in error and heresy. Spare us the pain of being compelled to invoke the just but severe laws of the Inquisition.'

I said, ‘I am repentant and contrite. I can say nothing more.' This was not pure bravery on my part. I felt that God would save me from the flames, as He had saved Daniel in the lions' den.

The Court found that I was not repentant about the correct things, and so the
sermo generalis
of sentence was passed. I was declared a contumacious heretic and remanded to the Justicia Ordinaria of the city for punishment
debita animadversione
. And now, before I face the
auto de fe
, I must confess my deepest secret.

Holy Father, you would no doubt have noticed that Bishop Zumárraga never asked why I chose to believe that Fray Ortiz was speaking the truth and not merely exacting revenge, as was my original thought. The Inquisitor's avoidance was deliberate: although the facts were damning enough, my guilt was assured by the more crucial fact of my mestizo heritage. But my reason for believing Fray Ortiz's account is the key to my conduct and, indeed, my very soul. Again I must caution Holy Father that much of what I now write shall seem like ravings, but at the end I shall offer proof not only of the truth of what I say but of God's incalculable grace and miraculous powers the likes of which, I assure you, has never been seen since Jesus Himself trod the shores of Galilee.

I went to the church with Fray Ortiz with the intent only of ensuring that he made a public retraction from the pulpit. Murderous as I was, I was not so stupid as to throw away all I had worked for by beating a priest, let alone killing one. But, as he told me the story of my birth, a strange thing happened: it was as if bright suns began to burn in my head, blazing up and going out, like days and nights passing within moments. In each separate sun there was an image: I saw myself playing on the white sands of the beach with a rubber ball; I saw myself hunting in the forest with a crude bow and arrow; I saw myself sailing a dugout canoe, along with an Indian youth of extraordinary beauty. The landscape I saw in my mind was the same, but different in small ways: no canes, no orange trees, no mines, and no Spaniards. Yet it was not me, Adam Colón, in these memories of a life I had lived before I was born. Even as I listened to Fray Ortiz tell a story, which it seemed I already knew, I was aware of myself in these images as smaller in body, browner of skin, peaceful of mind. It was that last quality that caused me not to reject these images as signs of madness, for whereof came this tranquillity? I had not known such a state was possible – this freedom from rage, from hate, from fear. I had never even known that I, conquistador, was so full of fear. And, as Fray Ortiz ended his story, a name came to me: Guiakan. And, out of those eyes, I looked at this priest who stood before me, with his arrogant red-lipped mouth and skin like that of a drowned corpse and I asked him why he had denied me my past and he said he wanted me to be like those who had murdered all my people, the Ciguayons and the Lucayans and all the Tainos. And, for the last time, the pure demon of the Spaniard Adam Colón rose in me, but driven by the spirit of the Taino Guiakan who had been born to be Preserver of his people and had failed; and I killed this foreign
bohuti
whose God said that the Tainos were fit only to be slaves for Spaniards.

Not madness, Holy Father. The mad have no reason, cannot exercise self-control or arrange their affairs. Were I truly mad, could I have avoided those looking to arrest me for the murder of Fray Ortiz and still manage to dispose of two-thirds of my possessions and hide all my gold? And, while it is bruited that the mad sometimes have unusual cunning, I can be deemed mad only because of the complete reversal of everything I had once lived by. Yet such a violent upheaval of mind itself argues against a cunning insanity. And the evidence of my cunning lies at the root of my present situation: for the Court of Inquisition would hardly have bothered seeking out a heretic as far removed as New Spain, even for the suspected murder of a priest, were it not for the considerable wealth to be confiscated through my arrest. Which is the other reason for the long delay: for I was so cunning that, to this day, the major portion of my wealth remains undiscovered.

There is, however, another possibility which even I must admit: that the spirit of a long-dead Indian had taken possession of me. Indeed, it did initially seem to me as though there were now two selves inhabiting my one body. There was the Taino named Guiakan, a person of peace and pain, and the Spaniard named Adam Colón, a person of war and pain. As true Christians, we know that demonic possession is a fact of life. Yet all demons are evil, and this demon (if demon it was) had no evil intent, as I shall show. Besides, what transpired next revealed beyond any shadow of doubt that God's grace and divine mercy was indeed with me.

Feeling as though my head were on fire, I quickly left the church through the back and ran into the forest. I was consumed by guilt, as though red-hot pincers were tearing away at my very heart and soul. For I was aware of myself as an Indian and also aware of myself as the Spanish killer of Indians. I remembered both swearing to be Preserver of the Tainos and my fiendish delight in torturing the Tainos. And, final twist of the blade in my breaking heart, I remembered knowing a young beautiful girl who became my own mother. I ran through the forest, it seemed forever, until I came to the high cliffs and kept on running.

When I came to myself, it was night. The stars were like bright chips shattered from a clouded crystal moon. No flames, no demons – certainly no angels or pearly gates (though that I had not expected). No pain, although I recalled feeling every bone in my body shatter when the fist of the earth had hit me. I got to my feet with caution, and vague thoughts of Purgatory. But everything seemed as always: the air was chilly and filled with the songs of frogs. I stretched my limbs carefully. There was no grating of broken bone, no agony of torn flesh. Yet, as I ran my hands over my body and my face, I found stiffened trails of dried blood. Behind me, the hill stood like a silent and faceless giant. I was reminded of the Shadowman and turned with a gasp, as though he were upon me. With that thought came a tight terror, and I began running back to town.

By the time I arrived at my hacienda, I had reached the only possible conclusion: that God had spared my life. The memories of Guiakan were now submerged in my mind, but his peace remained with me. I was Adam Colón but I was also Guiakan. The hate, which had also been hatred of myself, was diminished. And it was in the memories of Guiakan that I now remembered possessing this miraculous gift of healing. As Adam Colón, I had never discovered it. So proud had I been of being a warrior: but all my foes had been weaker, possessed inferior weapons, lacked armour. In all my battles, I had never once been seriously injured and, although the minor wounds I had sustained had healed with remarkable quickness, I had attributed this only to my own natural vitality. But now I knew the truth – that I had been given a gift so great that, in known history, God had bestowed it only upon one other: His only begotten Son.

An extravagant claim, I know, Holy Father. So let me hasten to add that I make no claims to Divinity, let alone being the risen Christ, although the majority who may read this confession will doubtless accuse me of such awful blasphemy. Therefore, let me state categorically and beyond any shadow of doubt that I claim no special knowledge of God, that I never heard His voice, that I was never visited by any of His angels. But He did grant me a second chance. That is the simple truth. And I must speak the truth entire now or else my whole second life would also have been in vain. But, even as I write these words, I realize my denials have set another trap: the accusation that my gift may have been given by Satan. But I think not. I am no theologian but I have the advantage of knowing what is in my own heart. It is also obvious that immortality is not Satan's to give. He is himself immortal only because he was once the angel Lucifer. But even in the Garden of Eden he could offer Adam and Eve only the knowledge of Good and Evil – in promising them that they would not die, he lied. Only God can grant life and immortality, for the Bible clearly says that even our souls are not immortal in themselves but only become so through God's final dispensation. And so it must be that this great gift was given by God, and it must be that it had been granted to me for some great purpose.

It was not difficult to divine what that purpose might be. Until that day I had lived a life defined by cruelty, perversion and greed. Surely no one can deny that these are sins. Obviously, God could have taken away my gift of immortality when I leapt to my death that day and consigned me to the pits of Hell. Indeed, it is clear that few persons on Earth could so well deserve God's punishment. But, as we always preach (and so seldom practise) God is a loving, merciful and forgiving God. He had spared me, obviously, in order that I might spend the rest of my days in recompense to those to whom my cruelty, perversion and greed had caused the most suffering. No doubt this was also why he had made me long-lived: for it would take several lifetimes to accomplish this task. I do not believe, mind you, that I am truly immortal, as Christ is. I have no doubt that God shall take me in His own good time, but the Bible records that, in the olden days, men lived for many hundreds of years. It may be that I am one of the old race.

So perhaps now, Holy Father, you can understand why I did what I did over the next three years. At my hacienda, I encountered several men lurking outside, including the four who had accompanied me on my raid. I slew them with all my old mercilessness. But now I had certain knowledge, the knowledge of God, that my acts were justified. God Himself destroyed the cities of Sodom and Gommorah for their evil ways, and New Spain was as those cities recreated. God had appointed me His Angel of Death. Yet I was not Adam Colón but Guiakan Colón now. When inside I found Fray Tomas de Gayana, Brothers Toribio E Ybarra and Ricardo Muñoz, I killed all but Br. Muñoz with my bare hands, and Br. Muñoz, I understand, remained a drooling, crippled idiot for the remainder of his short life. But I swear that in the act of killing them I had restrained my ancient rage. I acted as God's avenging angel.

I then gathered all my valuables and retreated to the hills. From there, I began carrying out my one-man raids on the colonists. I sabotaged their mines. I set fire to their haciendas. I broke the chains of the enslaved Tainos. And always my message was the same: obey the New Laws, obey God, or my vengeance shall fall upon you. Several of the harshest colonists I murdered in their beds. I was a formidable opponent: not only did I possess all the martial skills of Adam Colón but to this was added Guiakan's considerable skills in using Nature. I was able to live off the land and the sea easily, and all the sallies of the King's soldiers threatened me not. After about a year, I had gathered around me a small band of both Tainos and runaway African slaves. Our raids became more intense. The colonists lived in terror, viewing us akin to a plague or a storm that might fall upon them at any time. And yet they continued to work their mines and live like princes on the dying bodies of Tainos.

Still, against the colonists' greed I might have prevailed. They had begun taking measures against me, spending as much as one-third of their gold to pay soldiers to guard their towns and mines. But I was indomitable and might have worn them down, eventually, by terror. But I could not fight the invisible foe that took an even heavier toll on the Tainos than their cruel masters. That foe, against which my sword and my unnatural vitality was useless, was the small pox. It caused men and women and children to die strangled on the swollen tissues inside their noses and their throats, or thrashing and screaming in violent delirium until their minds could no longer endure the torment, or vomiting blood till they withered and died like dry husks of maize.

I became determined that every Spaniard should be driven out of Espanola, and eventually all the islands, before the last Taino died. So I redoubled my raids. Even when my motley crew tired, I ventured forth on my own. I needed little sleep and, confident in my gift of healing, I took risks that no ordinary man would have dared.