VOYAGE OF STRANGERS (26 page)

“I wish that were so,” Hutia said, “but the men who followed him have not all returned to Spain. They do not wish to leave without as much gold as they can.”

“How fares Santo Tomas?” Rachel asked. “Have they found the mine at Cibao?”

“No, for there is none,” Hutia said. “We have tried to tell them that the gold they are fast stealing from our rivers is all we have. But they will not listen. They are fools, but dangerous fools, as they think torture will make us speak a different truth.”

“Did you talk with our friend Fernando?” I asked.

“Yes, though he seemed ill at ease to be seen speaking with me. None but the foolish
bohique
now talk of making us into Christians and therefore treating us decently.”

“Fray Pane,” Rachel supplied.

“They talk now of making good the too small store of gold for your
caciques
by making all of us slaves and sending us to Spain.”

“No!” The horrified exclamation came from both of us at once.

“Surely the Admiral will not allow it,” Rachel said.

“Your friend Fernando said that all speak as if the Admiral had already planned it when he sailed away five moons ago.”

“Surely they will never come so far into the mountains,” Rachel said. “Can we not stay here? If they come close, we can help the villagers to hide.”

Hutia and I both shook our heads. Rachel’s belief that this could end happily for any of the Taino, held only because she so fervently wished it, showed how young she still was.

“They range farther every day,” Hutia said. “I will speak to the
cacique
and the
nitaino
as soon as I may. This village will not remain safe for long. I hope to persuade them to abandon it and hide more deeply in the mountains, perhaps near the sacred caves.”

“You would not wish to be safe while others are suffering, Rachel,” I said. “The thought is not worthy of you.”

Rachel looked at me with tears in her eyes.

“You are right, Diego.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “But what if we go back and find that we can do nothing to stop them?”

“We must try,” I said.

So the decision was taken. But we lingered, making no preparations for departure. I was reluctant to leave Tanama, and Rachel loved every soul in the village. Indeed, all returned her affection. Hutia lent a willing ear to all my plans and worries, but I knew that he too wished us to remain among the Taino.

“The most difficult task,” I told him, “will be turning Rachel back into a boy. She has grown as a woman does. When she stands among the gromets, it will be apparent that she is different.”

We crouched on the bank of a stream near the village, spearing the fish that darted through the shallows. Hutia laid down his spear before he spoke.

“The boys from the ships are scattered,” Hutia said. “Some went with your Admiral, some with the evil captain of soldiers. Others have sickened and died. But you cannot turn Rachel back into a boy, no matter how you change her appearance.” He picked up a handful of pebbles and sifted them through his fingers. “The tree cannot become a seed again.”

“All the more reason to get her home.” I cast my fishbone spear at a wily fellow bigger than the rest and missed. My aim was getting better, but I still hit my target only one time out of three.

“She is happy here,” Hutia said.

“Nonetheless,” I said, “it is my responsibility to restore her to her intended life.”

“A life in which she cannot run or play
batey
or go where she chooses.” Hutia pitched a pebble at the trunk of a nearby tree with such force that it broke the bark.  “She has told me.”

I opened my mouth to say, A life in which she can count on being warm and fed and clothed. But the Taino lived in a land that was always warm and offered food in abundance. As for clothing, they saw no need for it.

“It is her life,” I said. “She belongs with her people. Our family longs to see her.”

“She must go where Adonai can hear her voice,” Hutia said. “But Rachel says Adonai is everywhere.”

“I fear there may soon be no more happiness among the Taino,” I said. “Truly, Hutia, I wish it were not so.”

“I fear you are right,” he said. “And I do not blame you.”

He picked up his spear, and for the next few minutes, we devoted our attention to fishing.

“If only women had been included among the settlers,” I said, my mind turning back to the difficulties of rejoining the colony without calling attention to ourselves. “Then she could be herself.”

“If they had,” Hutia began, “would the soldiers—”

He froze, head up, eyes narrowed, nose twitching as he scented the air. I could almost see his ears prick up. In a moment, I too could discern what had caught his attention: the crashing of booted feet through the brush, a horse neighing, and the clang of steel. A deep voice shouted, another answered. I heard laughter.

“Soldiers!” Hutia said almost soundlessly. “They come to attack the
yucayeque
.”

“It doesn’t
sound as if they know that it is there,” I said. “But they will find it. We must warn them!”

“You go!” Hutia said. “You must get Rachel—and your European garments. They must not find you dressed like the Taino. And tell Tiboni—he will know what to do.”

“Do you not come with me?”

“I will follow the soldiers,” Hutia said. “I will try to distract them before they reach the village. Go!”

He slipped away, moving silently through the trees toward the source of the sound. I ran as fast as I could toward the village.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Quisqueya, October 6, 1494

Hutia sought stillness in his mind even as he ran as fast as he could without making any sound that could not have been caused by a creature of the forest. Not that the
arijua
were listening. They blundered through the forest like some great blind, deaf, sharp-toothed
caiman
, oblivious to its surroundings but nonetheless lethal to any man or animal unlucky enough to stumble upon it. He must not panic! He must not fail! He must lure the
arijua
away from the
yucayeque
or at least slow them down in their monstrous march until Diego warned the people and got Rachel away.

For a moment he wondered if allowing the soldiers to see him, even to kill him, would provide a better distraction. He did not want to die, but if it saved his friends, he would not mind allowing his spirit to fly to Coaybay and feast on the
guayaba
. No, his death would serve no purpose. Nor could he allow himself to be taken captive. These strangers from across the sea used people up and tossed them away like empty husks. They had had his father’s life, taking it not even by honest cruelty but heedlessly, by neglect. They would not take his. The Christians, as Diego called them, made much of their belief that men had souls. But how twisted was their understanding, to think that only a Christian had a soul. Like the Taino, they were only men. And what were men but animal flesh animated for a little while by spirit?

Hutia shook his head to rid it of these buzzing thoughts. When men thought, they lost their animal instincts. He needed every advantage he could summon to set against the Christians’ sharp, unbreakable weapons and the terrible horses. He had not admitted to Diego how much those great beasts’ massive heads, rolling eyes, and stamping hooves frightened him.

The soldiers were still on the other side of the river. Because of the horses, which could run so fast they almost flew and made good time even in the forest, Hutia had to make haste to keep up with them as he ran alongside the river, not on the bank where he might be seen, but a stone’s throw back, in the shelter of the forest. He leaped over a log, his bare toes not even skimming its mossy surface, and ducked under a low frond of palmetto. Where the underbrush grew thick, he slithered through it. Where it was impassable, he sought a way around it, sometimes finding a thick, well anchored vine on which he could swing himself over the obstacle.

From the shouts of the soldiers and the clatter they made on the march, they were making their way closer to the river. It would delay them for a short while. The
arijua
made heavy weather of crossing rivers. They would hardly have made it past the beach, no less into the mountains, without Taino help. But the horses could swim. And once across the river, their column would point like a spear straight at the
yucayeque
.

             
Hutia took a deep breath and slid rather than dove into the river, drawing in a deep breath and slipping underwater without the slightest splash. A few quick strokes took him to the other side without needing to take another breath. Now he must slacken his pace and fall far enough behind them to circle around and make them think there was something of interest on their other side, away from the village.

The strangers would destroy Quisqueya. He had known the first time he set eyes on them that they were cruel as well as dangerous. The image of their God was a man in torment. They must have thought the Taino as cruel as themselves, to believe such an image would persuade the Taino to abandon Yucahu and Atabey in favor of their Jesus. Then the man Diego called Cabrera had murdered Hutia’s little si
ster, Anacaona. Every time Hutia saw a golden flower,
anacaona
, he grieved anew. He would have killed Cabrera on the beach as soon as Diego had told him the truth, if Hutia’s father had not been already on the ship, insisting that there was much
matu’m
in learning the strangers’ language and helping them tell their
caciques
across the sea of Quisqueya and her people. Hutia had settled that score later, when Caonabo’s raid had given the Taino the opportunity they needed to punish the greedy interlopers and bring the women home.

Diego had tried to tell him that Cabrera was a man of pure evil, different from the rest. But truly, Hutia had seen no kindness in them, except for Diego, who in any case was not of their tribe. And Rachel, of course. Whatever happened now, he knew that he would lose Rachel. It was a minor cruelty compared to all his people had already suffered and would suffer in the time to come, but it broke his heart.

The noise of the cavalcade sounded on his other side. Now they marched between him and the river, as he had wanted. He bent and picked up a rounded stone. It sat warm and comfortable in his hand, a friend, a weapon, a small piece of Quisqueya. He stood for a moment, steadying his breath and making sure his muscles were relaxed, his body in balance. Then he raised his arm and hurled the stone with all his strength beyond and ahead of the soldiers.

As he had hoped, they halted.

“What was that?”

Hutia held his cupped hands to his lips and produced a cascade of twittering, as if a hunter had disturbed a flock of birds.

“If it is a savage, there may be a village nearby.”

“Let it be one ripe for plucking.”

“With plenty of them naked girls.”

“No, it was probably an animal, a big ugly lizard or one of those long-snouted things with the poison teeth. Not worth shooting for the pot, either one of them.”

How could Hutia imitate the sounds of a village? Or of an animal worth hunting? Quisqueya had no great predators, such as Diego said lived in the lands across the sea, the lion and wild boar. Both Rachel and Diego had remarked more than once that the animals of Quisqueya were as gentle as her people. He threw several more stones. He dared not imitate the animals or birds again, or the soldiers would ride straight to where he stood, rather than where the stones had landed, as he hoped.

Some of the soldiers wanted to seek out the source of the sounds. Others argued against investigating. If they came his way, they must not find him. He climbed a tree, shinnying up it with fingers and toes finding purchase in its rough bark. They would not look up. Meanwhile, Hutia had bought the village a little time.

“We will continue,” a decisive voice said finally. “We are not far from the river we glimpsed earlier. Let us cross it. The savages must have water. We have seen that many of their villages lie beside a river. Come!”

Should he follow them? Could he fight them? Would his presence make Rachel and the others safer, or would it merely end his usefulness to them if he were killed or enslaved with the rest? As he watched from his perch,
the soldiers reached the riverbank and began milling about, making ready to cross. He could do no more here. He must return to Isabela. When Rachel and Diego got there, they would need his help. If only  they were not mistaken for Taino and cut down on the spot! No! He would not think it. They must live, and so must he. He dropped lightly to the ground. Turning his back on the soldiers, the river, and the
yucayeque
, he started making his way toward the sea.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Quisqueya, October 6, 1494

I burst out of the trees, heart pounding, each breath like a knife in my chest. The scene before me was one of cheerful industry and play. For a final moment, the doomed village remained ignorant and at peace. Frantic, I looked around for Rachel. I heard a peal of laughter that could only be hers coming from the cluster of cooking fires where the women spent much of the day. I found her pounding
yuca
.