“Whatever comes to mind,” Serafina replied.
“You mean you don’t plan or prepare the story ahead of time?”
“No. I tell whatever comes to mind.”
“So there is no pattern to the storytelling …”
“Perhaps I relate what pleases me,” she said, smiling. “A word, a stray thought, an emotion, or a sound awakens the story. The pattern is in the cuento itself, and in the listener.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “Very well, let’s to the story.”
Serafina sat on the cot and took up the colcha she was stitching. With work in hand and the candles glowing brightly, she began.
FOURTEEN
Two Compadres
Long ago there lived two compadres who were different in many ways. Vicente was an honest merchant who had acquired a small fortune. He thanked God for his good luck. His compadre Manuel was also a businessman, but envious of Vicente. Manuel thought Vicente had acquired his wealth with God’s help.
Because there were thieves on the roads, they often traveled together for protection. One day they loaded their mules with goods and set out for Puerto de Luna. On the way they began to argue.
—Who profits more, asked Manuel, the man who rises early or the man whom God helps?
—The man whom God helps, replied Vicente.
—I don’t trust in God, said Manuel. I have what I have because I work for it. Granted, you have more riches than I, but I still say I don’t need God’s help. Let’s make a bet as to who is right, and the first three people we meet on the road will be our judges. If I win you must give me everything you own, and I will take out your eyes and leave you in the desert.
Vicente thought this was not a good bet to make, but he trusted in God. He would agree to the bet to teach his compadre a lesson, but he had no need for his compadre’s goods. Certainly he would never think of blinding him.
The Devil who always traveled the road looking for an opportunity to grab a sinful soul overheard the bet. Here’s my chance to take a man’s soul, he thought. He quickly dressed as an honest man, mounted a horse, and rode toward the two compadres. They greeted him.
—Señor, said Manuel. My friend and I have a bet. Help us settle it. Who profits more in life, the man who gets up early to work or the man God helps?
The Devil could hardly bear to hear the name of God much less utter it.
—He who gets up early, he said and quickly rode away.
—I’m winning, said Manuel to Vicente.
Down the road the Devil appeared again dressed as a man carrying his goods on his back. The two compadres stopped him and explained the bet. Again the Devil said the man who gets up early profits.
—That’s two votes for me, said Manuel.
Vicente was surprised. He knew the hard-working people of the region, and they all put their faith in God. Something was wrong.
Next the Devil appeared driving a fancy buggy. They asked him the same question and the Devil sputtered,
—Don’t trust in God! Then he quickly rode away.
—I win, said Manuel. You must sign this paper giving me all your properties and fortune.
After Vicente signed the paper, Manuel came up behind him and put out his eyes.
Vicente cried in pain.
—Oh, cruel friend. I have given you everything I own. I didn’t expect you would be so evil as to tear out my eyes.
—A bet’s a bet, said Manuel. He took all of Vicente’s mules and goods and hurried back to claim his properties, leaving his blind compadre alone.
Vicente suffered greatly. Even blinded as he was, he knew he had to find protection from the wild animals of the desert. Earlier he had spotted a tree along the road, and so as best he could he crawled round and round until he found the tree.
He climbed the tree and made ready to spend the night on the highest branches. Night fell and soon Vicente heard something approaching the tree.
It so happened this was a tree where three devils were accustomed to meeting. Beneath the tree they discussed the evil deeds they had done that day.
Trembling, Vicente overheard their conversation.
—How goes it? the first devil asked the other two.
—I’m doing very well, replied one. In the city down the road I have poisoned a young woman and she is slowly dying. She is the daughter of the king, and not even his best doctors can save her.
—How did you perform that good deed? asked one.
—I buried a horrible animal that looks like a toad seven feet under her bed. That animal is sucking her soul.
—Is there any way she can get well?
—Yes, if someone digs out the animal and kills it. Then she will instantly have her health again. But what about you? What are you up to?
—I have a kingdom in my claws, said the second devil. I have dried up all their rivers and springs. They have no water to drink and are dying of thirst.
—How did you put that curse on the land? And can it be taken away?
—Up the river from the city there’s a gigantic white boulder on the hill. I have locked up the waters in the boulder. If someone could break open the boulder, then the waters would flow again.
—And you? they asked the third devil.
—Oh, I had a good day. I served three times as a judge.
—How did you do that?
The devil explained the two compadres’ bet and how he had served as judge. When he finished his story one of the devils praised his deception.
—You win as deceiver of the day, one said.
—I appreciate the honor. But let me tell you more. The poor man doesn’t know that at the foot of this tree there’s a magic spring. He has only to wash his eyes with the water and his sight will be restored. But no telling where he is by now.
The devils finished their conversation and left. When he was sure he was alone, Vicente climbed down from the tree and crawled around searching for the spring. When he found it, he bathed his eyes and instantly his sight was restored.
—Thanks be to God, who reveals the devils’ work, he said.
The next day he set out for the city where the king’s daughter lay ill. At the edge of the city he found a kind old woman who gave him food and a room in which to sleep.
When he was rested he sent the old woman with a message to the king.
—Tell the king I can cure his daughter.
The old woman went running to the king and told him a man lived in her home who claimed he could cure the princess.
—Bring him to me, said the king. If he cures my daughter I will give him half of my kingdom.
The old woman returned to Vicente. He went immediately to the king.
—Are you the man who can cure my daughter? asked the king.
—Yes.
—Make her well and I will give you half of all I own. Tell me what medicines you use?
—I don’t use medicine, replied Vicente. I only need four strong young men with picks and shovels.
The king ordered four men to go with Vicente to the princess’s room. She lay in a coma, near death. Vicente ordered the bed moved and had the men break the floor and dig. They earth was as hard as rock, but Vicente urged them to keep digging.
When they were seven feet down they encountered the ugly animal that had been sucking the princess’s soul. The evil thing hissed and jumped at Vicente, but he killed it with his shovel. Then he took it outside and burned it.
When this was done the princess opened her eyes and spoke. The king and queen were overcome with joy. Within hours the princess was walking and talking, completely cured.
The king offered Vicente half of his kingdom, but Vicente said that that must wait. He was going to the next kingdom to help the people dying of thirst. Before he left he asked that the king take care of the old woman who had fed him.
When he arrived at the drought-stricken city, he found lodging for the night at the hut of an old crone. She told him about the terrible conditions.
—Al
l our animals have died. The people travel three days to bring water in barrels. The king has sent his troops to dig for water in the mountains, but they find nothing.
—What would the king give to someone who can make the rivers flow? asked Vicente.
—Oh, he would make that person a rich man.
—Very well, go tell the king I can release the waters of the rivers.
Early next morning the old woman did as she was told.
—Bring him to me, said the king. My people cannot last without water one more day.
So Vicente appeared before the king.
—Are you the man who claims he can make the rivers run again?
—Yes, your majesty, I am.
—If you can do that you can have whatever you desire in my kingdom. You will have all the money you ask for.
—Agreed, said Vicente. You can help me by providing me with twelve young men with steel picks and hoes.
The king ordered everything loaded on horse-drawn carts, and Vicente and the men started up the mountain. When they found the huge white boulder Vicente ordered the men to break it apart.
The work was difficult and long, but finally they split the boulder and the waters of the river gushed out.
When they returned to the city the king and musicians greeted Vicente. There was great rejoicing.
—Stay with us and marry my daughter, said the very grateful king.
—I have a family to return to, replied Vicente. You can pay me what you wish.
The following day the king had two mules loaded with gold and Vicente returned to the city where he had cured the princess. This king was equally generous. He had three mules loaded with sacks of gold and he sent soldiers to accompany Vicente home.
When Vicente returned to his city, he learned from his wife that Manuel had taken all his possessions and thrown her out in the street.
Quickly the news spread throughout the city that Vicente had returned. Friends came to see him and rejoice that he was alive.
Vicente bought a lot of land with farms and cattle, and he paid with gold.
Manuel learned that his compadre had returned, and that he was very rich. He couldn’t believe it, so he went to see him.
—Compadre, he said, are you the same one I blinded and left in the desert?
—Yes, replied Vicente. You have treated me very cruelly. But thanks to God I survived and prospered.
—But how did you come into this great wealth? asked the envious and greedy Manuel.
—I found a tree nearby and climbed it. That night thieves came and hid the gold they had stolen at the foot of the tree. When they left I climbed down and took as much gold as I wanted. Anyone can climb that tree and then take the gold.
—Take me to that place, begged Manuel.
—I cannot. Go by yourself, I will not go with you. Besides, you have to be blind, as I was, to find the tree.
—Then I beg you to take me there and blind me.
—That would be criminal, said Vicente. I cannot do what you did to me.
But Manuel’s greed was overwhelming.
—I will sign a paper returning all of your property, he insisted. And hold you blameless. But you must blind me. You are my compadre and you must do as I say.
Vicente relented. He took Manuel to the desert and put out his eyes. Then he returned home, leaving Manuel to crawl in search of the tree. When he found it he was overjoyed. He climbed it and sat on a high branch to wait for the thieves.
When he heard someone nearing the tree he was sure he was going to be a man far richer then Vicente. He didn’t know it was the three devils who had come to their reunion under the tree.
The devils began to talk about their day’s adventures and Manuel listened intently.
—I did very well today, said the first devil. I have two kingdoms at each other’s throats. Soon they will destroy each other.
—I also did very well, said the second devil. I sent a giant serpent to destroy a city. There is nothing the king can do. Soon the city will fall into my hands.
The third devil heard something move in the branches and looked up.
—Well, he said. I think I’ve done better than both of you. Look what I’ve found!
He reached up, grabbed Manuel, and in a flash they took him with them to a hot and dismal place.
FIFTEEN
The Governor smiled when Serafina had finished the story. Except for the discomfort of his back, he had relaxed as she told the story.
So, he thought, the bad compadre was gobbled up by the Devil. His greed earned him an eternity in hell.
Compadres were like brothers, they were supposed to take care of each other. His own compadre, don Roberto, had remained in Mexico City, turning down the offer to start a new life in la Nueva México.
As he thought of his compadre and his comfortable home in the capital of New Spain, the Governor sighed. Perhaps Roberto had been the wiser. The capital was now a civilized city. Music, art, and dance were flowing in from Spain. Representatives from the European capitals came to do business. A whole new way of life was flourishing in land Hernán Cortés had conquered, a new façade lay over the civilization and arts of the Aztecs.
Here, there was little by way of culture—a few books, the cuentos, and the church services to lift the spirits. Once a year on January 25 the villa celebrated the feast day of St. Paul, the patron saint, then the soldiers and citizens reenacted the old drama Los Moros y los Cristianos. Dressed in their breastplates and helmets and brandishing swords made from fine Toledo steel, the soldiers on prancing horses presented a wonderful spectacle.
The natives came from the pueblos to watch. Clearly they saw in the vanquishing of the Moors by the Christian knights the same power His Majesty’s rule held over the Pueblos. The play was drama and entertainment, but it also presented a message. The Moors had been defeated in Spain in 1492, the Pueblos had given in to coexistence in 1598 when Oñate colonized their lands.
But the Pueblos still kept their ways; they continued to hold their Kachina dances. The prior Governor López had told the ecclesiastical authorities the natives were allowed to hold the Kachina dances. This infuriated the Franciscan friars, and gave the Pueblos a breath of freedom. Fray Alonso Posada, then newly assigned prelate and agent of the Inquisition, opposed Governor López and sought to stop the Kachina dances. López laughed in his face, and the dances continued.
Posada filed charges against López, who was tried by the Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition in Mexico City and found innocent. The friars of New Mexico had failed to show the dances were idolatrous or demonic. The governor who succeeded López, Peñalosa, was also attacked by Posada, setting the stage for a continuing conflict between church and civil authorities over who held jurisdiction over the natives of New Mexico.
The Governor wondered whether it would not have been wiser to allow the natives to continue with their ceremonies. He glanced at Serafina. When she finished her story her custom was to remain silent, stitching the pieces of cloth that were becoming a rich-textured colcha. Was there a pattern in the blanket? He peered intently. Yes, probably the same symbols they used on their clay pots and ceremonial kivas.
He had been in a kiva once. According to the natives the kiva was the pueblo’s church. Descending by way of a ladder, he had found it brilliantly decorated with fine, colorful murals. By the light of the fire in the middle of the kiva he could see these people were gifted artists. But he couldn’t understand the meaning of the murals. He was told the paintings honored the ancestors, transcendent beings, rain people, corn maidens, and the mother earth they so adored.
They come to pray at our church, thought the Governor. Why can’t I go and pray at theirs? Some of our people attend the Kachina dances. We all adore God in different ways. Why can’t we respect the Pueblo way?
He looked at Serafina. How comfortable he felt with her tonight! He admired her talents as a storyteller and weaver. She could pray at church and in her pueblo way. Sh
e had learned to incorporate the two.
Maybe the friars are making a mistake in not allowing the native ceremonies to continue, he thought.
But in his heart he felt there was only one faith, one right religion, and the Christian duty was to baptize all heathens into the church.
Would Serafina give up her religion? No, that was part of her. Would she give up protesting the Governor’s rule? That was the unanswered question.
One day she would make a man a good wife. She was strong, intelligent, surely good at all housekeeping chores. What man wouldn’t feel honored to sit at home on winter evenings and listen to her cuentos? What father wouldn’t adore the beauty of his daughter and her gifts?
“You are quiet tonight,” said Serafina, putting the colcha aside.
“Your stories make me think,” he replied.
“What is in your mind?”
“I was thinking of my compadre don Roberto. A fine and honest man. He lives in Mexico City, the capital of Nueva España. I miss his companionship. Here I have no compadre, no one with whom to share my thoughts. Once I could talk to my wife …”
“How did she die?”
“Last winter. Many died from the terrible cold that afflicted us. She had a gentle nature. She took sick and within a week she was gone.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Oh, very much. At first I was lonely. But I had my work to do, keeping the colony together. So much to do in relation to your people—”
“A great responsibility.”
“Yes. But I feel up to the task. I am Vicente of tonight’s story. A good compadre.” He smiled and looked into Serafina’s bright, dark eyes.
“But even Vicente lies,” she reminded him. “He tells Manuel that it is a thieves’ fortune that is hidden under the tree.”
“Ay, there’s the rub. Human nature gets in the way, always confounding us.”
“Would you blind your compadre?”
“No, never.”
“Would you blind anyone?”
“No, it’s inhuman.”
“Would you whip or hang a man?”
Ah, thought the Governor, she’s referring to Governor Treviño who, not long ago, hanged three Tewa Indians accused of witchcraft. A fourth man had hung himself, and forty-three others were either beaten or imprisoned. The event had almost precipitated a rebellion, and the memory of the incident was inciting much of the current unrest.