‘Are you feeling all right?’ Escalante asked Pepillo. ‘That whip cut is superficial; bleeding’s already stopped. But how about the blow you took to your head? Has it left you groggy?’
‘I’m fine, Don Juan.’
‘Excellent. In that case let us proceed to the headland and continue with your training. You were lucky and fast today, but Santisteban is much bigger and stronger than you and there’s a lot of work to be done if you’re to be ready for him. Your great advantage, which we must build on, is that the principles of sword and stave work are much the same. You’re already well on your way to mastering those principles and, unless I’m very much mistaken, Santisteban is not.’
Today’s lesson focused on what Escalante called ‘the binding of swords’, when contact between the two blades was maintained for some interval during a fight. After repeated attacks and defences, Pepillo began to understand that he could ‘feel’ the intention of his opponent through the pressure of his blade and react accordingly. Thus, if his opponent pushed strongly against him, then he must become weak and wind his blade away, seizing the opportunity to break out of the bind and strike. On the other hand, if the push was weak, then the objective was to apply strength to manipulate his opponent’s blade with his own into a position where it would be possible to deliver a thrust or a slice.
‘And once you break out of the bind,’ Escalante added, ‘don’t be afraid to grapple. The closer you are to your enemy, the more difficult it is for him to cut you. So close with him, throw him and run him through. Here, let me show you,’ he said – and suddenly Pepillo found himself tipped onto his back with the point of Escalante’s sword against his throat. ‘Now, your turn,’ the captain grinned. ‘Get up. Bind … That’s right. Step in … Grapple! Now try to throw me … You know, you’re getting better and better at this.’
They repeated the exercise six more times until Pepillo’s arms ached. ‘Use elbows, knees, the pommel of your sword, whatever comes to hand in the grapple,’ Escalante said. ‘Anything that gives you the advantage. Never hesitate, keep on pressing your opponent every way you can—’
Abruptly he broke off the bout and turned his gaze out to sea. There, coming into the bay under full sail, and no more expected than if Aphrodite herself had chosen that moment to emerge from the foam, was a beautiful Spanish caravel.
* * *
Cortés was knee-deep in the surf, with his arms outstretched in greeting, as the longboat from the caravel Gran Princesa de los Cielos ran its prow up onto the sand and his old friend Francisco de Saucedo leapt out.
‘Francisco!’ Cortés exclaimed, wrapping the small, wiry, fork-bearded captain in a warm abrazo. ‘Ye gods! It’s good to see you! How did you find us?’
‘Hernán! So good to see you too! We knew you’d be along this shore somewhere, so we just coasted, coasted, and suddenly here you are!’
Saucedo, in his early forties with short-cropped hair showing more iron grey than it had when Cortés had last seen him in February, glanced up at the headland where the rooftops and stockade of Villa Rica were visible. ‘It seems you’re setting down permanent roots here.’
‘Indeed so! We are a colony now. You gaze upon the mighty towers and spires of the noble town of Villa Rica de la Veracruz.’
‘A fine name and a fine plan, but I have news for you, Hernán – most urgent and important news. Shall we get our feet out of the water and go somewhere dry?’
As they climbed the steep path to the headland, joined now by other captains and friends, Saucedo said jokingly: ‘You might have waited for me!’
Everyone knew what he meant. The Gran Princesa de los Cielos had been undergoing a refit in the Santiago dockyard when Cortés had sailed precipitously with the rest of the fleet on 18 February after discovering that Diego de Velázquez, the governor of Cuba, planned to relieve him of command. There had been no time to inform Saucedo and, besides, his caravel hadn’t been seaworthy. But after the repairs were complete, he explained, he’d quietly recruited sixty soldiers, ‘hard-bitten types, ready for adventure’, purchased four heavy cavalry horses, ‘two of them mares, both good breeding stock’, and slipped out of Santiago a few days ago without the governor’s knowledge. ‘That shit Velázquez,’ Saucedo said with feeling as he and Cortés walked in the midst of a rapidly growing throng of well-wishers through the gates of Villa Rica. ‘He wants your blood, you know.’
‘I don’t give a damn what the old fart wants,’ Cortés replied. ‘As the captain-general and justicia mayor of Villa Rica de la Veracruz, I answer only to my fellow colonists now. It’s all legal and above board.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ said Saucedo, lowering his voice as they reached the splendid new pavilion in the heart of the town. ‘Indeed, the urgent news I bring you concerns your legal position … ’ He looked around at the crowd that followed them and lowered his voice still further. ‘Perhaps we should discuss this in private?’
Some instinct for his own advantage made Cortés take Saucedo’s arm and steer him away from the pavilion towards the public meeting hall that stood nearby. ‘What I may hear, all may hear,’ he said in booming tones. He sought his secretary and saw him in the crowd. ‘Pepillo, summon the rest of the community. Everyone who’s not on guard duty. We have word from Cuba.’
* * *
While the colonists assembled, some finding places on the benches that served as pews (the meeting hall doubled as a church on Sundays), others standing around in small groups speculating as to what was about to be announced, Cortés took Pedro Alvarado aside and whispered in his ear: ‘If this comes to a showdown with the Velazquistas over the future of the colony, as I suspect it will, don’t state a view.’
Alvarado looked puzzled. ‘I’m not sure I understand you, Hernán.’
‘I’m assuming Escudero and his gang are still courting you?’
Alvarado yawned, showing his perfect white teeth. ‘Every day.’
‘And you’re still leading them on?’
‘As best I can, but they’re getting rather tired of foreplay. If I don’t surrender my virginity to them soon, they’re going to throw me out of bed.’
‘Say nothing at this meeting to hasten that process! Rather let them think you’re ready to consummate the liaison.’
With that, Cortés clapped Alvarado on the shoulder and rejoined Saucedo. ‘Shall we begin?’ he said.
‘If you wish, Hernán, but I still would have preferred to meet with you privately first.’
‘Too late for that now, my friend.’ Cortés cleared his throat. ‘Gentlemen,’ he addressed the packed meeting hall, ‘I give you Francisco Saucedo, who needs no introduction here. He is fresh from Cuba and he tells me he has urgent news for us.’
Saucedo had always been a man of few words, and now, in characteristic style, he got straight to the point. After the expedition had sailed from Cuba against the governor’s wishes on 18 February, Velázquez had acted swiftly to secure his own interests, sending a fast ship to Spain just two days later. The ship carried an embassy to the court of King Carlos, with a petition that Velázquez be granted an exclusive licence to colonise the New Lands, the profits to go to him and his heirs. Rodriguez de Fonseca, the powerful and influential Bishop of Badajoz, a relative of the governor and his closest crony in Spain, had ensured that the petition was delivered directly to the king, and the king had acceded without demur to all that was asked of him. Astonishingly and exceptionally, he had even agreed that if gold was found, only a tenth of its value (rather than the usual fifth) was to be paid to the Crown; the rest would be for Velázquez to keep. The same fast ship then brought the signed, sealed and fully executed licence back to Cuba and delivered it to the triumphant governor.
Cortés had expected that some such manoeuvre would occur. Despite his bravado, he knew that his legal cover as captain-general and justicia mayor of Villa Rica de la Veracruz was most unlikely to be sufficient to protect him from so vengeful an enemy as Velázquez. Indeed, this was prec
isely why, in parallel with his manoeuvres to establish Villa Rica as an independent authority, he had also developed the plan – as yet discussed only with Alvarado and with Puertocarrero who was to be his messenger – of sending King Carlos all the treasure so far won by the expedition as a bribe for his royal support. What he had not anticipated, however, was that Velázquez would move so fast to pull the rug out from under his feet and would himself petition the king for powers that would allow him to claim control of any colony that Cortés might establish! This was chess-playing at a more advanced level than he had believed the governor capable of, and meant he now had no choice but to bring his own plans forward.
Might as well make a virtue of necessity, Cortés thought. But he would choose his moment, because others were already on their feet venting their fury and, over the next half-hour, a consensus emerged amongst the colonists. The new licence that Velázquez had somehow hoodwinked the king into issuing posed a direct, indeed an existential, threat to their interests, since he would certainly use it to argue that Villa Rica de la Veracruz should be placed under his authority, with all its profits going straight into his pockets.
‘All our hard work these past months will have been wasted,’ one of the settlers opined.
‘The risks we’ve run, the dangers we’ve faced, all for nothing,’ protested another.
‘We can’t allow this, Hernán,’ said Juan de Escalante gravely. ‘We all have too much at stake here at Villa Rica – something must be done.’
Seeing the way the wind was blowing, Montejo and Puertocarrero now rose to add their voices. They were both bought and paid for, with the latter additionally compromised by the cowardice for which Cortés had never allowed him to be called to account, and as he’d expected they divined his wishes correctly.
‘Caudillo,’ Puertocarrero said, ‘we who have appointed you as our leader call upon you to find a solution.’
‘Velázquez must be stopped,’ squeaked Montejo, with a nervous look at his former Velazquista cronies, who were gathered in a glowering knot around Jean Escudero and the governor’s cousin, Velázquez de Léon. ‘Action! I demand action!’
‘No action is needed,’ sneered Escudero. ‘We all serve the king, Governor Velázquez is his appointed representative in these parts, and he now has the royal warrant to administer this and all other colonies. All that’s wanted to put things to rights is to send a ship to Cuba at once – I will captain her myself – and formally place Villa Rica under the governor’s authority.’
‘Here, here,’ echoed Velázquez de Léon.
‘I’m with you,’ added that treacherous swine, Diego de Ordaz, who’d taken Cortés’s gold, agreed to stay out of trouble after his participation in the last rebellion, and was now clearly up to his tricks again.
Likewise Alonso de Grado, Cortés’s one-time ‘friend’, who’d first revealed his links to the Velazquistas a few weeks before, once again hoisted his true colours by sidling over to stand beside Escudero and professing: ‘Since the king has ruled in favour of Diego de Velázquez, as Don Francisco Saucedo now informs us, then who are we to go against him? No one here wishes to commit treason. I’m sorry, Hernán, but I vote we place ourselves under the governor’s command as soon as possible.’
A few other supporters of Velázquez also crawled out of the woodwork now, while more, Cortés suspected, were biding their time before they declared openly for one side or the other, but the mass of the colonists remained outraged, indeed horrified, at any suggestion of giving up their hard-won toehold in the New Lands. It seemed the meeting must soon come to blows.
Judging the moment, Cortés called for silence. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘gentlemen. Bring yourselves to order. You are not savages. As justicia mayor, my first responsibility is to preserve and safeguard the future of Villa Rica de la Veracruz, and look to the best hope for success and prosperity – dare I say even wealth? – for all of us here gathered. The crux of the matter, as Don Francisco has made very clear, is His Majesty the King who, it appears to me, has been misled and misadvised by that venal self-serving cur Diego de Velázquez … ’
Roars of anger erupted from Escudero and his followers at this, but Cortés waved them down. ‘Gentlemen, silence please! You have had your say, now allow me to have mine – for unless my memory plays tricks with me, I am still your elected chief … ’
Roars of ‘Yes, Don Hernán, speak up, we’re with you’, and suchlike encouragements, burst forth from the mass of the colonists, and a scuffle broke out between Velázquez de Léon and a huge, dour soldier named Guillen de Laso, who accused the governor’s cousin of sodomy. Suppressing a smile, Cortés again called for silence and continued. ‘As I was saying, that vile pederast and bestialist Diego de Velázquez has plainly misadvised the king in order to win a wholly spurious and undeserved exclusive licence to colonise these New Lands. I believe it is our responsibility – nay, our duty! – to aquaint His Majesty with the facts, and I am confident, once we have done so, that the licence given to the governor of Cuba will be revoked and our right to rule our own affairs and serve the king in these New Lands will be confirmed.’
More cheers and yells from his supporters, more boos and catcalls from the Velazquistas, and now, thought Cortés, comes the difficult bit.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I have a plan. Are you willing to hear it?’
From the massed drumming of feet, entirely drowning out the protests of the Velazquistas, it was clear that the majority of the colonists were indeed willing to hear Cortés. He waited again for silence and then, in measured tones, outlined the idea he had already shared weeks before with Alvarado and Puertocarrero. What was needed, he said, needed above all else, and needed all the more urgently now since hearing the news that Saucedo had brought, was that the settlers of Villa Rica, under Cortés’s leadership, should find a way to win direct royal sanction for their venture. ‘If we can only do that,’ he said, ‘then the threat posed by Velázquez will be lifted forever.’
But how best to achieve this goal? Cortés looked around the crowded meeting room before answering his own question. Since gold was the fastest route to a man’s heart, since Don Carlos, too, was a man, and since his court, like every great court in Europe, was always in need of funds, the wise solution, surely, was to sweeten him with gold? Indeed, Cortés suggested, summoning every ounce of his eloquence and persuasive powers, the settlers of Villa Rica must send to the king all the gold, all the treasure, in short everything of any value they had won by barter and wrested as ‘gifts’ from the Maya, the Totonacs and the Mexica since their arrival in the New Lands in February. This would include even the two spectacular wheels, one of pure gold, one of pure silver, they had received from Moctezuma – presents so rich and so valuable they were bound to win the king over to the settlers’ cause.
The initial reaction from even the most loyal and enthusiastic of his supporters was one of stunned silence, while the Velazquistas bellowed and howled with outrage. But once again, when the hubbub had died down, Cortés began to work the crowd, and after another hour had passed it was clear that many were seeing things his way. He used the same arguments here in public that he had used to persuade Alvarado in private in the middle of May, namely that a relatively small sacrifice now – the treasure they’d gathered in just four months at the periphery of the Mexica empire – would secure for them the vast and immeasurable treasure that surely awaited at the heart of that empire in the fabled city of Tenochtitlan. By all means what they had won already was enough to make them all modestly wealthy, but if they would only keep their nerve and follow his advice, he promised – nay, he swore on the holy cross and on the name of Saint Peter his patron – that he would make them all as rich as kings. Indeed, within a year, two at the most, every one of them from the greatest lord to the lowliest soldier could look forward to becoming veritable kings in their own right, for these New Lands were vast and their potential limitless. It would be folly, utter folly, for which their children and gran
dchildren would never forgive them, if they were to forgo the greatest opportunity of their lives in favour of a man like Velázquez for want of a little courage and expenditure now.
‘You want us to give the king all our treasure?’ stormed Escudero in disbelief. ‘All of it? And you call that a “little expenditure”? Damn your eyes, Cortés, you’re a bigger fool than I took you for.’
‘Well, let’s see who’s the fool and who is not,’ Cortés replied. ‘Heated opinions have been expressed openly and it’s plain there are at least two very different views as to what we should do. I propose we take a few days to deliberate on these weighty matters as a community before we come to a final decision. Each side may freely make their case and try to win support, and then we’ll take a vote to settle things – shall we say here in this meeting room exactly one week from today at noon?’
It was an eminently reasonable suggestion, and even the staunchest Velazquistas could find no good argument to oppose it.
‘A week from today then,’ said Cortés as he brought the meeting to a close. He looked directly at Escudero: ‘And may the best man win.’
* * *
‘It’s a damned insult,’ said Escudero.
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Alvarado.
Having been ferried out from the shore by longboat around noon, the two captains were alone on opposite sides of a table in the stateroom of Alvarado’s carrack San Sebastian. It was Friday 9 July and, after four days of tireless lobbying, it had become clear to all that Cortés was going to win his vote by a huge majority – so huge, indeed, that he had taken the liberty of circulating the letter that Escudero was now waving. Already signed by more than three hundred and fifty colonists, with every likelihood that many more would follow, the letter repeated the proposal to give all the treasure to the king, but cleverly shifted the source of the idea away from Cortés and placed it squarely on the shoulders of the colonists themselves, thus ensuring, Alvarado noticed with admiration for his friend’s cunning, that none who signed it would later be able to claim they’d been coerced.