The Ten Incarnations of Adam Avatar (12 page)

Naturally, the Indians under me died like flies. I took pride in the fact that I went through my encomiendas faster than any one else. For this reason, I was the first colonist to write, and receive permission, to bring African slaves to the island. But the Indians died quickly everywhere: the overwork, lack of food and the pox ensured that. I became quite wealthy through finding a rich vein of gold and using that money to buy a plantation where I planted crops such as cassia, ginger oranges and plantains. I also bought several cattle and built a mill, one of the first in New Spain, to make sugar from cane. All these ventures proved profitable. I was, in all save name, the finest gentleman of Espanola: my shirts, imported from Seville, were of the purest white linen, luxuriously ruffled at the neck and wrists; my pantaloons were of the finest Oriental silk; my jackboots were locally made of the finest black leather. In public, I always wore a magnificent cape of dark-blue velvet. Even on my trips to Spain, I was often taken for a nobleman of the finest Spanish family. Women looked upon me with favour, but I had no interest in them (which seemed only to increase their interest). In my early days as a conquistador, I often indulged in rape. My fellows would have looked askance on me if I had not. But I had no natural inclination for the act. Whereas all my compatriots raped women like good Christians, always in the missionary position in the front hole, I was able to perform the act only in the back hole with the women positioned like a dog. This, oddly, gave me a reputation for even greater manliness among the other conquistadores. But, save for the infliction of pain, I never enjoyed the act, and I often killed the women afterwards. Indeed, many of the Indians I murdered in my house I killed simply so they would never speak of the perversions I practised in secret.

In those ten years, it is the uncounted murders that are important: not my successes as a conquistador.

Needless to say, Holy Father, I did not speak of perversions in my original testimony. I was not afraid of death, but I was, for reasons that will soon become clear, mortally afraid of the
auto de fe
– to be purified at the burning stake would have been for me a fate worse than death. Bishop Zumárraga interrupted me when I spoke the last sentence.

‘Señor Colón,' he said, ‘is it your contention that the lives of these heathen Indians were as valuable as the lives of honourable and Christian Spaniards?'

I knew my answer would help doom me, but I did not care.

‘Yes,' I said.

Zumárraga smiled thinly. ‘There are many eminent Spaniards who would disagree with you.'

I glanced towards the back of the court, where Las Casas sat.

‘There is one honourable Spaniard who would disagree with them.'

Zumárraga seemed not to hear my comment. He walked over to a small table and took up a sheet of paper.

‘The great Spanish theologian Juan Gines de Sepulveda had this to say on this matter: “Compare then the blessings enjoyed by Spaniards of prudence, genius, magnanimity, temperance, humanity and religion with those of the Indians, in whom you will scarcely find even vestiges of humanity, who not only possess no science but who also lack letters. Neither do they have written laws but barbaric substitutes and customs.”' Zumárraga put down the paper with quiet triumph. ‘What have you to say to that, Señor Colón?'

I shrugged. ‘I believe Sepulveda has never even been to New Spain, so I am somewhat puzzled as to the basis of his opinions.'

‘A great theologian like Sepulveda needs no evidence to formulate the correct opinion,' Zumárraga snapped. ‘His views are informed by reason and the knowledge of God!' His voice became soft again. ‘Or do you also deny his opinion of Spanish virtues?'

‘I have given an account of my own early history and character. The virtues listed by Sepulveda are quite absent.'

Zumárraga smiled again. ‘As we established at the beginning of this trial, however, you are not Spanish but Creole.'

‘That is true. But the accounts of persons who have actually been in the colonies clearly show that few Spaniards there practised or possessed the qualities Sepulveda imagines to be part of the Spanish character.'

‘Very well. We shall take your hostility to those of pure Spanish blood as granted.' He went on before I could reply, taking up another sheet of paper. ‘Let us take the account of persons who have, in fact, first-hand knowledge of these pagans whom you so stoutly defend. Fray Tomas Ortiz describes them as treacherous, cruel, vindictive, arrogant, thieves, liars, adulterous, promiscuous and of little intelligence.'

I said, ‘I can assure this court that the Indians were too busy dying to be any of the above.'

Zumárraga said, ‘Perhaps ensuring the Indians died was any true Spaniard's moral duty.' He picked up another sheet of paper from his table. ‘For I have here a letter to King Ferdinand II from nobleman Vasco Nunez de Balboa, who states, “I would not make slaves of so bad a people but would order them to be destroyed, both old and young, that no memory may remain of them.”' Zumárraga raised this letter to me. ‘By your own account, Señor Colón, much of your life was spent trying to achieve this exact end.'

I did not answer. Zumárraga said, ‘Señor Colón, is that statement accurate?'

‘Yes,' I said. ‘And a statement made by Fray Las Casas in the Valladolid debate is also accurate: that the Christians, because of their enslavement of the Indians, became more inhuman and less merciful than tigers. That being so, the actions I stand accused of were, in the truest sense, motivated by Christian morality.'

Zumárraga turned to the President, the Vicar-General Fray Francisco de Castillo. ‘The defence of the accused turns on the true nature of the Indians. I have already quoted evidence from several theologians. I would now like to call Spain's most eminent naturalist, Gonzalo Fernando de Oviedo, author of
Historia General y Natural de las Indies
.'

I had not noticed Oviedo, who had been sitting in the shadows at the back of the courtroom. He now came forward, a small man with a rounded belly and thin legs encased in black hose. He walked like a crab trying to avoid stepping on ants. Taking a seat under the president's bench, he crossed his legs and delicately adjusted the folds of his silken cloak.

‘Señor Oviedo,' Zumárraga began, ‘you spent many years in the New World, did you not?'

‘Indeed I did.'

‘And during that time, you closely observed every aspect of life in that region?'

‘That is correct.'

‘In fact, you are something of an expert on the New World.'

‘No. I am
the
expert on the New World.'

Zumárraga bowed his head, and Oviedo smiled as though his gut had wind.

‘Could you give us your expert opinion on the nature and inclinations of the Indians which Señor Colón so stoutly defends?' said Zumárraga.

Oviedo recrossed his legs and gazed at the oaken beams of the lofty ceiling. ‘The Indians were not as easy to kill as the accused has tried to imply. I estimate that their skulls are four times thicker than those of Christians, undoubtedly because their brains are smaller. Many times I saw swords actually broken on their heads.'

‘Broken, you say?' said Zumárraga with a glance at me.

‘That is correct. They ate lice, spiders and raw worms. They also indulged in sodomy.'

‘I see. In other words, these were not beings whom one could say were truly human and therefore deserving of the moral consideration God requires us to give to every Christian person?'

‘No. I must concur with the opinion of Fray Ortiz, whom you cited earlier. Almost without exception, I observed the Indians to be cowardly, base, liars and idle.'

Zumárraga bowed. ‘Señor Colón, I thank you for your time and for giving us the benefit of your expert knowledge.'

Oviedo yawned delicately, covering his mouth with one hand, and was about to get to his feet when I said, ‘Fray Castillo, might I ask some questions to establish Señor Oviedo's
bona fides
?'

Zumárraga expostulated at once. ‘Señor Oviedo's
bona fides
are in no doubt whatsoever! His book is an erudite and widely-read treatise.'

Oviedo simpered. I said, ‘Be that as it may, in a matter of passing judgement on an entire race, the
ad hominem
is always relevant.'

After a few moments, the Vicar General nodded. I said, ‘Señor Oviedo, you were once a conquistador, were you not?'

‘That is correct.'

‘As a conquistador, you would have had to kill Indians?'

‘Yes. It was my duty to defend New Spain from the savages who inhabited it.'

‘Is it not true that one of your duties was to brand the Indians?'

‘Yes.'

‘And how much were you paid for this task?'

Oviedo hesitated. ‘I was paid one tomin of gold.'

‘One tomin per Indian?'

‘Yes,' he said, as if the word were a pebble stuck in his throat.

‘Your
History
is part autobiography, correct?'

‘Yes.'

‘Did you include the fact of your being a conquistador, and your branding duties, in this autobiography?'

Oviedo hesitated again, his eyes flickering like errant flies across the courtroom. Then I saw his gaze focus and knew without looking that he was looking at Las Casas who, besides giving me information on Oviedo, had no doubt also brought a copy of the
History
. All witnesses of the Inquisition were secret, of course, but with Las Casas's help I had marshalled responses to many arguments we thought might be raised.

‘No, I did not,' said Oviedo harshly.

‘Why not?'

‘I did not think it... important.'

‘I see. Did you not think that such knowledge might have influenced readers about your opinions on the Indians?'

‘No. My opinions were based on my observations.'

‘Yes, observations no doubt made while branding or killing these Indians.'

Zumárraga came to his feet. ‘Vicar-General!'

I raised my manacled hand. ‘I apologize, Vicar-General Fray Castillo. I have only one more question. Are you fluent in Latin, Señor Oviedo?'

‘No,' he said, sulkily.

‘I see,' I said. ‘That is all.'

‘Thank you Señor Oviedo. You may leave,' said Fray Castillo.

Oviedo got off the chair and left the court. He still walked like a crab, but now like one who wanted to smear the ants. Despite my situation, I found I was capable of amusement and a glance at Las Casas showed that he shared my feeling. It was he who had suggested the question about Latin: there is nothing more humiliating to a man like Oviedo, who poses as a gentleman and a scholar, to have his pose shattered.

Zumárraga then called several soldiers and colonists of Espanola who spoke of my activities after that fateful day in 1542 when the New Laws came from Spain prohibiting the encomienda. They confirmed that late in that year Fray Ortiz was murdered and that I was seen running away from the church. They said that I left my house and my possessions behind, leaving the town with only the clothes upon my back, and that I was not seen thereafter for a couple of years. They said that from that time, Indian attacks upon colonists became more frequent and more deadly, and that those few who survived the attacks said the Indians were led by a white man of my description.

After the last witness had spoken, Zumárraga turned to the Vicar-General. ‘Honourable President, the pathetic attempts of the accused to denigrate the theologians and historians cited as witnesses before this Court is in itself evidence of his guilt. Moreover, he does not deny inflicting grievous injuries upon Fray Tomas de Gayana, Brothers Toribio E Ybarra and Ricardo Muñoz. Nor, most heinously, does he deny murdering Fray Diego Ortiz y Mantana. That such acts were directed specifically against members of the clergy in itself confirms the charges against the prisoner – to wit, profaning the sanctity of the Holy Church and contempt and disrespect of the clergy. What makes the murder of Fray Tomas even more heinous was that it was done within the walls of the church. The third charge – promulgating doctrines contrary to the Holy Canons of the Church – we have heard confirmed by the testimony of the accused himself.'

I said, ‘Honourable Vicar-General, the killing of a priest is not necessarily an act of blasphemy. I have already admitted to culpability in that matter. However, when the Court hears my reasons, I am certain that in its wisdom it will free me of these far graver charges of heresy and blasphemy.'

The Vicar-General nodded and I proceeded to tell the last part of my story. But what I told was only part of what I now write in this Confession. The Court heard my immediate motives for doing what I did. I now confess the first cause, and I now caution Your Grace that it is a story so wondrous he will surely think me a madman. I ask your generous indulgence for two reasons: one, that I shall provide a simple means for Your Grace to prove the truth of what I say; and, two, in anticipation of that proof his consideration that, if my story is true, my very existence provides irrefutable proof of God's grace.

The colonists had always ignored the decrees of Spain and even the Vatican: King Ferdinand's decrees commanding the building of four huts for every fifty Indians plus land planted with three thousand beds of cassava and two thousand tubers and the granting to each Indian of twelve hens and a rooster – well, all this was a great joke to the colonists. Even the
Sublimus Deus
of the Holy Father in 1537, which advocated the conversion of the Indians by peaceful means only, was completely ignored. I called to the Court's attention that Pope Paul III in that declaration specifically weighed in against those who excused their refusal to treat the Indians in a Christian manner by arguing that the Indians were dumb brutes created only to serve Spaniards. I pointed out that the Pope had even gone so far as to describe this excuse as invented by the Evil One himself. But, to my knowledge, not one colonist was ever so wrought by this opinion from St. Peter's heir as to free the Indians or, indeed, even to treat them less harshly. Certainly, I did not. So, when the New Laws were announced, most of the colonists just smiled in their cups. I, however, at the height of my wealth and influence, decided to celebrate by killing more Indians.