Song of Tides

Eleven

 Eleven  13 February 1566 Rescued. Oh glorious day. Not even the Savior Himself would be more welcome . To have stood upon a Spanish ship, tasted Spanish biscuits, sipped Spanish wine, learned news of the King. Just to hear so many voices speak our lovely tongue. I wept openly. And oh glorious night. The stars are out, the ones that will lead me home. Such a word, home. Would that I could leave tonight for Salamanca , the home I’ve never known. At least sleep with my brother Christians. But the Adelantado begged me to remain with the Indians , to open my ears, to relay any mischief they may have planned. This, as is my duty, I will do, but what cruel punishment to have to lie even one more night with my captors when my soul cries out, “Away.” I dare not tell Carlos my intentions. Let him think I’m loyal. I followed Stepana’s instructions to the word, reported accurately the size of the Spanish force, the number of their guns. That gave nothing away—the Indian sentries had already counted them. Besides, they’ll see for themselves soon enough. The Adelantado wishes to 142 joseph meet Carlos, to give him certain gifts. I will relay the words between them. Then, I will leave. God willing, she’ll come with me. She does not love Carlos. She is different from the rest. If I can take her away, I can save her. I’ve not told her yet. I pray I’ll know when the time is right. This will be the final page of my saga. Let me end it with the most joyful word to cross my lips in nearly twenty years. Freedom. Iqi and the three hundred archers in Carlos’s guard followed the royal barge, beaching their crafts on the shore of Hermit Crab Island. How small the war canoes suddenly seemed, now as they stood a mere arrow’s flight from the wind ships. The two Spanish vessels, moored one behind the other with the bow of the closest tethered to shore, were massive. Iqi had been prepared for that. What astounded him, though, was that a boat so large floated in so little water, even with a full load of men and equipment. Suddenly his breath caught as he saw the weapons, black and evil looking, long as a man, mounted on wooden carriages. Their gaping openings pointed straight at the clearing where the meeting was to take place. Filing into the open field, bow held at the ready, Iqi felt the pulse pounding in his ears. He wished he were back on the flats. And yet, he’d promised Ishkara and Aesha. It was a stroke of good fortune to have presented the shark to Carlos the day before and to have been invited to stand with the guard on this momentous occasion. The strangers had erected a platform in the still-deserted clearing. A single bench sat at the center. Iqi saw Carlos take his place upon it, with Stepana off one shoulder and Escalante the other. The nine councilors stood behind. Iqi and the guard backed them up. At that moment, men began to file from the nearest wind ship, jumping to the ground without getting their foot coverings wet. There were perhaps thirty, and they moved in unison, like warriors, dressed alike in song of the tides 143 hard garments that encased them like seedpods. From their waists hung long metal knives, and in their arms they carried the heavy fire spitters known to kill from a great distance. Thin cords attached to the weapons burned with small, controlled flames that could mean only one thing: the weapons were at the ready. Iqi clutched his bow with sweaty palms. It felt at once like a child’s toy, yet heavy, too heavy to lift. The Spanish warriors marched to the opposite side of the platform and stood stiffly in a straight line facing the Calusa, their expressions grim behind hair-covered cheeks. Iqi stared back unblinking, since to drop his gaze would be a sign of weakness, until his attention, along with everyone else’s, was wrested away as there emerged from the wind ship a final man. Like the other strangers, he was small in stature with a face so full of hair it made his head look tiny. He had a long, thin nose and dark, intense eyes set far apart that darted between his warriors...