Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon (31 page)

Matipuyaut agreed.

This settled, Cabrillo offered a bow and momentarily left the chief to speak with his officers. It was almost noon and the maintenance on the ships must commence at once. Giving the necessary orders, he sent a few men back to their respective ships to set things in motion. He then returned to Matipuyaut, who led him toward the path that meandered up to the village, trailed by Manuel, Vargas, four of his soldiers carrying crossbows against their backs, and two additional men with short swords swaying from their belts and long bows and quivers resting between their shoulder blades. The slim remainder of the landing party was to remain on the beach and watch over the returning launches. All of the native warriors had by now retrieved their shallowly buried spears and fallen in behind Cabrillo's guard.

Just beyond the elongated sand dune the trail turned sharply to the right and began to rise, passing a rocky cistern fed by a cascade that sang in crystallized tones as they climbed. Listening to the sweet music, Cabrillo wondered how many such water sources existed on the island, giving life as well as pleasure to those who drew near. The harsher sounds of saws and hammers reached him from the ships, and these too were comforting.

By the time they'd scaled the precipitous path to a point high above the source of the small waterfall, Cabrillo was sweating heavily and trying to restrain the volume of his breathing. He felt like ages had passed since he'd last trekked uphill. Glancing ahead and then back he saw that his fellow sailors were panting and sweating as profusely as he, but the Indians, even the older Matipuyaut, seemed no more taxed by the climb than a sea lion would be by a dip in the waves.

When the path finally leveled out and the aching in his leg muscles eased, Cabrillo heard one of his rowers mutter between gulps of air, “Sailors was never meant to scale hills steep as this. Give me rigging, any day.” A quick snarl from Vargas silenced the speaker.

Now that they'd reached open ground the Indians spread out around the visitors, watchful and wary. Ahead Cabrillo could see that the single village he'd imagined, just as with the islands, was in reality two smaller ones. As they drew near the more substantial of these and the warriors gathered tighter around them, Cabrillo noticed Vargas' growing uneasiness. His sergeant major finally mumbled, “I do not like it, sir. Too many of them.”

Just as softly, Cabrillo said, “We are beyond help now. Breathe easy and keep moving.”

Matipuyaut led the group up to the most sizeable of the thatched, dome-shaped houses, and ushered Cabrillo and his men through its rectangular entrance. At least a dozen pairs of eyes, belonging to women and children who'd obviously been warned of their arrival and quickly shifted to the outside wall, stared with varying degrees of fear at the guests. One small boy whimpered but was instantly hushed.

The chief motioned Cabrillo's delegation to be seated and then issued brief orders to his wives. Two of the women eased behind the men and out of the house to fulfill the chief's errand. In an effort to avoid offending his host by taking too direct an interest in his family, Cabrillo turned his concentration toward the nonhuman contents of the home.

The interior must have measured fifty feet in diameter and was arranged around a central cooking fire with a smoke hole positioned high above it. Tightly woven mats as well as sea lion and otter skins covered the floors. The arcing wall was framed with whalebones and driftwood, and against it twenty or so raised beds were spaced evenly apart and covered with various furs. On either side of the largest bed, which undoubtedly belonged to Matipuyaut, large woven screens hung suspended from the ceiling to form a semi-private chamber. Baskets of many sizes and shapes, finely decorated with dark geometric patterns, rested near the beds or hung from the poles supporting the walls. A sizeable stone cooking bowl, stacks of abalone and stone bowls, and several other implements were stacked on a raised stone slab near the fire. Also resting beside the firestone was a huge oblong mortar that cradled its grinding pestle.

The undisputable head of this household seated himself upon furs as his two sons and several of his men settled around him. He paused and watched Cabrillo in a relaxed manner that communicated his intention to await something. After several moments had crawled by Cabrillo was about to speak when a short Chumash man in elaborate body paint and head feathers entered and took a place beside the chief, which Matipuyaut's son politely relinquished. The newcomer piercingly gazed upon the leader of the strangers as if attempting to extract hidden motives. His scrutiny then turned upon Father Lezcano, who disarmed him with a sudden and ostensibly innocent smile.

Matipuyaut introduced the man by saying with respect, “This is our
alchuklash
, our shaman. He is called Kipomo.”

Cabrillo offered his own name and that of his priest and received only a speculative glare in return.

The chief then drew out a stone pipe measuring four inches in length and three-quarters in diameter, tapered and fluted at one end. With ceremonial gravity the chief filled the pipe with a mixture of tobacco and a plant unfamiliar to Cabrillo. A glance from Matipuyaut toward one of his wives brought her to the fire where she lit a twig, and then demurely brought it to the chief. He kindled the pipe and offered the stem to the captain-general.

Although Cabrillo had smoked tobacco after his young arrival in Mexico, and once or twice since then, he'd never been won over by the activity. Tobacco made his throat burn and the smell was not overly pleasant. Worst of all it dulled his sense of taste, which he valued high enough to protect. Now, caught in the hospitality of a host upon whom his ships' sanctuary depended, he accepted the pipe with as much grace as he could marshal. Nodding at the chief in gratitude, he put the pipe to his lips and inhaled a mouthful of smoke that tasted markedly more pungent than any previously known to his tongue. There was an unusual bitterness and sweetness mixed with the tobacco flavor, and the combination scratched at the back of his gullet so roughly it elicited one short, quickly swallowed cough. He cleared his throat to ease the tickle, took a second, smaller puff with more success, and handed the pipe back to Matipuyaut. The chief passed it to Kipomo, who inhaled languorously, and then conveyed the pipe to Matipuyaut's sons. Whatever ingredients the smoke contained, they hit Cabrillo's empty stomach like a hot stone in a cooking pot and set off a burst of hunger. He shifted noisily to muffle his grumbling stomach.

The sudden sound of muttering from his men and a sharp intake of breath from Father Lezcano made Cabrillo dart a glance in the same direction that his men were staring. Just inside the doorway stood three young women, naked except for their short two-piece skirts and adornments. Most gazes were pinned to the female closest to the entrance, and Cabrillo understood why.

An astuteness, a potency was there, which by itself would have set her apart from her peers. But she also possessed a heightened beauty in her proud face and body. She stood with her chin held high and her eyes aimed directly, perhaps challengingly at Matipuyaut rather than shyly at the floor. She appeared to be a few years older than the others, and her mature breasts and hips made the same features of the other two girls look disappointingly unripe. Her hair hung loose and shining to just below her thin belt. Her legs were flawlessly sculpted. Cabrillo's gaze rose from her feet and settled upon the woven chords of a necklace that came together between her collarbones to suspend a single strand, and upon this thread small birds carved from abalone shells trailed down between her full breasts and shimmered against the richness of her skin.

At the sight of her, no restraint dictated by diplomacy could hide the angry glare that darkened Matipuyaut's face or the distaste that pinched Kipomo's. The chief barked a reprimand at the older women who'd been sent out at the chief's bidding only to return with a highly disagreeable choice. The offending wife tried to apologize but Matipuyaut had already aimed his displeasure back at the younger woman. One biting word that Cabrillo did not comprehend was snapped at her, but she did not move. A staring battle, his fiery, the girl's defiant, lasted only a moment before the chief seemed to recall his duty to his visitors. He calmed his features somewhat and ventured to recapture a less stormy frame of mind.

Father Lezcano interpreted aloud, although by now Cabrillo could understand the Indian signs nearly as well as his priest as Matipuyaut explained, “These women have been brought here to serve Chief Cabrillo during his stay with us. To show my appreciation for his fine weapon, he may choose one or all of them.”

“Good Matipuyaut,” Cabrillo tried with great solemnity but little hope, “my knife was given in friendship. It is not my wish to deprive you of your women. I have a woman, a wife in my land.”

Matipuyaut considered this before asking, “Is your land far away?”

“Yes, far,” Cabrillo responded honestly before recognizing his own entrapment.

“A woman who is far away can not care for her man. These women are not my wives so you do not deprive me of them. Just as the knife, they are given in friendship. They are young and strong, and will serve you well. They are the finest gifts I have to offer, Chief Cabrillo.”

There it was, the potential for affronting his host's honor and authority, a generous offer set like a snare by which a single misstep could entangle them all. Cabrillo cursed inwardly, dreading what trouble such an arrangement, for the second time, might encourage among his men. They'd been without women for too many months. Trying to conceive some way to keep from wronging either Matipuyaut or his own men, Cabrillo eyed the women. As he sought a solution, he realized that Father Lezcano hadn't attempted to interfere this time. Perhaps he could be of some help, even if only to give Cabrillo more time to think.

“Father Lezcano, please ask Matipuyaut to tell me something about the women.”

A bit stiffly the priest complied, and the chief seemed unperturbed as he gestured toward the young girls, “These two were born to families of our nobles who belong to the Brotherhood-of-the-Canoes. They are hard workers and have been trained to be faithful and modest.”

“And this one?” Cabrillo asked, referring to the woman who Matipuyaut was clearly trying to avoid mentioning.

Another scowl appeared as he paused, and then admitted to the surprise of the sailors, “This is one of my daughters, but she is a bad woman. She has brought shame to her people. She is unworthy of Chief Cabrillo and should not have come.”

Fascinated anew, Cabrillo's men began muttering amongst themselves until Vargas hushed them with one quietly hissed, “Silence, you swine!”

Even under the burden of insults and gawking, the girl neither spoke nor moved any part of her body except her eyes, and these now locked on Cabrillo. They were probing, measuring.

Cabrillo asked, “How has she shamed her people?”

Matipuyaut declared without hesitation, “She is the mother of two children in one birth.” The heads of the other females in the room lowered, but not that of the guilty woman. Kipomo glared his condemnation as the chief went on. “Such a curse can be forgiven if one child or both are killed before their first breaths are drawn, but this woman and her husband refused to honor our ways. They even refused to obey the command of Kipomo. By sparing their offspring, they risked the welfare of all of our people. Three years have now passed and both children still live, so the curse still lives. It has already taken the life of her husband. For the last year she has cared for her unlucky children alone.”

This was not the first time Cabrillo had heard of a mother of twins being considered the victim of a curse. Perhaps such superstitions had arisen during years of starvation. Even in times of plenty the islanders knew their prosperity could change greatly within a few seasons, so the superstition persisted. But the precautionary measure for survival was merciless and wrong. He let his eyes meet those of the young mother. She and her children undoubtedly lived in harsh ostracism. An idea started to form, and he grew more certain of his next move as it firmly took hold. Here was a case by which his faith could bless these people while peace was maintained.

“Matipuyaut,” he said earnestly, “our God is all good and all knowing. He can take away such curses. He can make every child holy, even these children.” Matipuyaut attended to his signs with thoughtful vigilance, so Cabrillo went on. “I am happy to choose this woman to serve me. We will teach her the ways of our God. He will wash the curse away from her, and her children, and your people.”

This was followed by quiet hopeful gasping from the other women, muttering amongst the warriors, and speculative silence from Matipuyaut. Kipomo shifted impatiently and seemed on the brink of speaking, when Matipuyaut said with genuine concern, “Chief Cabrillo, your words are powerful, but there is more you must know. This woman is not only unholy, she is also disobedient. Our customs allow widows to marry only widowers, and there have been three such men who have come for her. Even with the curse she carries they were willing to take her as a wife, but she refused them all.”

To the astonishment of everyone in the room the woman stepped forward, eyeing Cabrillo intensely, and said, “I will not refuse this man.”

The quiet, courageous assertiveness of her words and delivery impressed Cabrillo greatly. In the gaze she held unwaveringly upon him, he sensed a plea to protect her children, and in return she offered anything, everything he might ask. As he again took in her exposed beauty, Cabrillo knew he might have asked much if their circumstances had been different.

Matipuyaut glanced at Kipomo, each of his elder sons, and then at the rest of his audience to assess their reactions before saying, “You may take her, Cabrillo. If your god can remove the darkness from her spirit it will do much good. If she does not please you, the others will.”