Hammer of Witches (38 page)

No one knows exactly what happened at La Navidad, so the final two chapters of this book are based on my own educated guesses. Primary sources tell us that, in the beginning of 1493, Columbus left thirty-nine members of his crew in a fortress cobbled out of timber from the
Santa María,
which had run aground on Christmas day. When Columbus returned a year later, the fortress was destroyed, the crew was gone, and the Spanish objects inside the fortress taken by the Taíno. Guacanagarí told Columbus that Caonabó had burned the fortress, killed some or possibly all of the Spanish men, attacked his village, wounded him, and stolen one of his wives. Columbus believed this report. I’m inclined to believe it too.

If Caonabó
had
attacked the fortress, the attack may have been spurred by his discovery that some of the Spanish were taking three or four Taíno “wives” apiece (according to Guacanagarí). There were also reports of Spanish men being killed after they had trespassed on Taíno mines either before or after the destruction of La Navidad. Whatever his reasons, Caonabó probably did attack the fortress, because, when the Spanish
captured him during Columbus’s second voyage, the cacique admitted to burning the fortress and killing between eleven and twenty of the thirty-nine men. However, it is also possible that the crew themselves burned the fortress after some internal conflict, though I’ve personally seen no evidence for this theory.

So in general I’d say that the history in
Hammer of Witches
is reasonably accurate, but you might want to think twice before using it as a study guide for your next history test. Here’s why:

Hammer of Witches
is a work of fiction, and fiction has its own rules which don’t apply to history. For one thing, history doesn’t follow a schedule. Events can happen gradually over a long period with many lulls in between. Fiction, on the other hand, must keep readers’ attention, and climaxes hopefully arrive when expected. For this reason I compressed the timeline of Colón’s first voyage, cutting out his layover in the Canary Islands and some of his wanderings around the Caribbean so I could focus solely on his time in Ayití, where more of the dramatic events occurred. Unfortunately that meant readers didn’t get to see the Bahamas or Cuba in this book, and here, Martín Pinzón separated from Colón near Hispaniola and not off the Cuban coast.

The Malleus Maleficarum witch hunters in this book are an invention and should not be confused with the historical Spanish Inquisition. As horrific as the Inquisition was, the real Inquisitors of Spain would not have kidnapped Baltasar under the cover of night with no warning, nor would they have resorted to torture so quickly. The Inquisition was far too legalistic for that. They would have first formally accused Baltasar of heresy and given him a month or so to confess and repent. If he didn’t turn himself in at the end of the month, he would have been arrested and taken to a relatively nice prison, in comparison to other Spanish prisons of the time. (Still, he might have to wait there for a few years before his case was heard.) The Inquisitors would have seized his and his family’s assets to pay for his imprisonment and trial — and perhaps more importantly, to line their own pockets. At the trial, Baltasar would have faced a tribunal of learned men, had a defense attorney, and likely be defended by character witnesses. The tribunal would rule for torture only rarely; the seizure of assets and threat of torture were usually more than enough to get a confession. Afterward Baltasar would face execution, hard labor, public shaming, or freedom.

In contrast, the fictional Malleus Maleficarum in
Hammer of Witches
is more of an organization of spies, renegade priests, and bounty hunters than an arm of the Spanish legal system. The book
Malleus Maleficarum
did exist in the 1400s and was
somewhat popular in Europe. However, both the Church and Inquisition condemned it.

I did not live in the 1490s, nor did I have any personal interactions with Christopher Columbus, Martín Pinzón, Caonabó, or Anacaona. No one can know exactly what these people were like, although we can make guesses based on our primary sources. That said,
Hammer of Witches
is a work of fiction. At times I flashed my poetic license and changed the characters for the sake of plot. Here’s the breakdown:

Things we know about Christopher Columbus:
He made some over-the-top demands of King João of Portugal and Spain’s King Fernando and Queen Isabel and finally was able to make his first voyage; he seemed to be a religious Catholic; he got along with Guacanagarí; he took between six and ten Taíno back with him to Spain after the first voyage; in later voyages he attempted to establish a slave trade and forced the Taíno to pay tribute to him in the form of gold, under penalty of death; he was eventually arrested for his mismanagement of Hispaniola.

What we don’t know about Christopher Columbus:
where he came from (his son and contemporaries said or strongly suggested Genoa); if part or all of his family was Jewish; if he was a good captain and navigator; if he liked or hated Martín Pinzón (or both); why he immediately believed Guacanagarí
when he said he didn’t attack La Navidad; whether he was a nice guy to be around. During the second voyage, rumors of Columbus’s cruelty to the Taíno (cutting off heads, hands) began to spread, but it’s unclear how true these rumors were.

Things we know about Martín Pinzón:
He was from Palos; he was an excellent mariner; he was famous for his efforts in the War of Castilian Succession; he had a couple of brothers who were also involved in the first voyage; he was initially so confident about Columbus’s plans that he put up his own money to help fund it; for some reason he sailed off without Columbus while in the Caribbean; eventually they found each other again and returned to Europe, where he quickly died.

What we don’t know about Martín Pinzón:
if he had syphilis when he was on the first voyage, and if it had any effect on his decision to separate from the other two ships; if he died of syphilis at all; if he separated from Columbus on purpose or by accident. For the purposes of this book I decided he left on purpose, because nothing happens in a fantasy book by accident.

Things we know about Caonabó:
Bartolomé de las Casas said Caonabó was not from Hispaniola, but one of the Lucayan islands (the Bahamas or Turks & Caicos); he was married to Anacaona and was cacique of Maguana; he was older and sharp-witted, and Columbus respected him; after the second voyage he and others attacked some Spanish fortresses Columbus had ordered built; he was captured by the Spanish and died
in a shipwreck on the way back to Spain.

What we don’t know about Caonabó:
if he really burned La Navidad (see above); if he really stole one of Guacanagarí’s wives; if he really was captured when the Spanish tricked him into putting on a pair of handcuffs by calling them bracelets. That last story sounds particularly fishy to me.

Things we know about Anacaona:
She was from Hispaniola; she was the sister of the cacique of Jaragua; she was married to Caonabó and was the mother of Higuamota; she was well-respected as a composer of areitos (Taíno ballads); the Spanish thought she was beautiful; toward the end of 1496 she and her brother made a treaty with Columbus, after which she was friendly with the Spanish; she eventually became a cacica (female cacique); later, during a feast, Spanish Governor Nicolas de Ovando burned down her meeting house and had her hanged.

What we don’t know about Anacaona:
if she agreed with her husband’s decision to attack the Spanish. In
Hammer of Witches
, I decided the answer was “yes” to make her a more active character. However, there’s no proof either way.

Most of the stories recounted by the characters in
Hammer of Witches
are retellings of real folktales, fairy tales, myths, and religious stories. But I’ve taken some liberties. The prologue’s hameh story is mostly my own invention, and I decided to keep the Ali Baba story in there even though there’s no evidence
it was being told at the time. Then again, there’s no evidence it wasn’t.

Storytelling is an invention of mine, so I had to make guesses about how it would affect the world if it did exist. In the 1300s and 1400s, Spain increasingly disapproved of differences of religious belief and interpretation; for this reason, I assumed there would be a “Magic Inquisition” to eradicate the heresy of Storytelling. In Ayití, such inquisitions did not exist, so I concluded that Storytelling would likely be more accepted there. In the fictional world of
Hammer of Witches
, the best Taíno Storytellers (like Arabuko) would become the village shamans by virtue of the fact that they could apparently call upon and talk to spirits. That said, I do
not
want to suggest that real Taíno people are magical or that real Taíno shamans were witches. In reality, the Taíno shamans
(behiques)
were religious leaders and doctors who used medicinal herbs,
cemíes
(religious icons), ceremonial fasts and purging, songs, and hallucinatory drugs to perform their sacred rituals.

Some readers have asked me why Baltasar’s narration in
Hammer of Witches
doesn’t sound more “medieval.” Put simply,
Hammer of Witches
is a young adult novel, and I wanted it to be accessible to young adults. Beyond that, Baltasar is
neither a member of the church nor the aristocracy, so there’s no reason to believe he would have written or spoken in a formal manner. If I wanted to write in a historically-accurate fashion, I would have written
Hammer of Witches
in Old Castilian (which Baltasar would have spoken), Renaissance Latin (the language in which he probably would have written), or very very Early Modern English. If you’d like to see some very very Early Modern English in action, I encourage you to read “The Tree of Common Wealth” (1509) by Sir Edmund Dudley, which begins, “fforeasmuch as euy man is naturallie bounde not onlie moste hartelie to praie for the prosperous contynuaunce of his liegue Soueraigne Lorde . . .” I could have certainly written
Hammer of Witches
in such language. Something tells me, though, that my editor wouldn’t have been too happy with me!

So there you have it. If you want to learn more about fifteenth century Spain, Columbus’s voyages, or Taíno culture, please visit my website
hammerofwitches.com
to find a suggested reading list and other special features. Thanks for reading!

Unless otherwise noted, all
names should be pronounced as if one were speaking Spanish, specifically late fifteenth century Andalusian Spanish, which not-so-coincidentally sounds like the Spanish used throughout the Americas. Tamo words sound like Spanish words, except GU sounds like a W. Put the stress on the capitalized letters, and roll your Rs if possible! It’s fun.

Baltasar Infante
: bahl-tah-SAHR een-FAHN-teh

Amir al-Katib
: ah-MEER ahl kah-TEEB (or the more Arabic AH-muhr ahl KAH-tuhb)

Anacaona
: ah-nah-cah-OH-nah

Antonio de Cuellar
: ahn-TOHN-ee-oh deh KWEH-yahr

Arabuko
: ah-rah-BOO-koh

Bahamut
: bah-hah-MOOT

Bartolome
: bahr-toh-LOH-meh

cacique
: kah-SEE-keh

Caonabó
: kah-oh-nah-BOH

cemíes
: seh-MEE-ehs

Cristóbal Colón
: kree-STOH-bahl koh-LOHN

David
: thah-VEETH (the “th” sounds like the “th” in “this,” not “thick”)

Diego
: dee-EH-goh

Elena Hernández
: eh-LEH-nah ehr-NAHN-dehs

golem
: GOH-lehm

Gonzalo
: gohn-SAH-loh

Granada
: grah-NAH-dah

Guacanagarí
: wah-kah-nah-gah-REE

hamaca
: AH-mah-kah

hameh
: HAH-meh

Higuamota
: ee-wah-MOH-tah

huracán
: oo-rah-KAHN

Jagua
: HAH-gwah

Jinniyah
: dzhuh-NEE-yah

Joaquin
: hwah-KEEN

Juan
: HWAHN

Luis de Torres
: loo-EES deh TOH-rrehs

Maguana
: mah-WAH-nah

Malleus Maleficarum
: mah-LAY-oos mah-leh-fee-KAH-room

maravedíes
: mah-rah-beh-DEE-ehs

Marién
: mah-ree-EHN

Martin Pinzón
: mahr-TEEN peen-SOHN

Mizrahi
: meez-rah-CHEE (“ch” sounds like a less-harsh version of the ch in “Chanukah”)

mudejares
: moo-deh-HAH-rehs

Niña, Pinta, Santa María
: NEE-nyah, PEEN-tah, SAHN-tah mah-REE-ah

Sara
: SAH-rah

Serena
: seh-REH-nah

Shana Mlawski
: SHEY-nuh muh-LAU-skee

Taíno
: tah-EE-noh

Titivillus
: tee-tee-VEE-loos