The Rose Demon

dreams of former Christmas Eves: he was a young boy in Sutton Courteny. The snow was falling and he and Christina were hurrying up the path to church. They were going to help his father put up the crib in the Lady Chapel, adorn the transepts and rood screen with red-berried holly and the magical ivy. The church bell was tolling. Matthias was given the task of taking the baby Jesus and putting it before the high altar; the statue of the Christ child would not be put in the crib until Christmas morning. Then he was at Oxford, he and Santerre singing in the choir, ‘Oh puer natus’. And, of course, there was Barnwick; Rosamund teasing him, kneeling before Matthias in their chamber, warming the posset cups whilst making Matthias guess what she was giving him for Christmas.

Matthias opened his eyes and looked up at the starlit sky. In a week the year would draw to a close. Since the attack by the Caniba very little had happened. Of Baldini there had been no further sign. Matthias had told the Captain General that his companion had been killed outright. The Captain General pursed his lips and nodded. Baldini’s death and the savage foray of the Caniba had clearly shown they were not in Paradise. Many of the crew now loudly protested that they weren’t in Cathay. Columbus was openly worried: they had been almost three months amongst the islands and, although he’d collected exotic fruits, plants and animals, there was very little gold or silver.

Martin Pinzon’s Pinta had been reported further along the coast: the Captain General wondered if Pinzon had discovered anything fresh. He was making plans to go searching for his erstwhile Captain once Christmas had come and gone. So far the Santa Maria had not left the waters of the great island of Bohio. Cuacagnari, the local chief, was still friendly, wetting Columbus’ appetite for treasure with small gifts such as a statue, a mask all hammered out of purest gold. The young chieftain also talked of lands further to the south, where the palaces were of costly material and the streets paved with gold.

Matthias breathed in deeply and abruptly stopped. He had become used to the heavy perfume of the islands, the strange sweet smells of the plants mixing with the rotting vegetation, and the salty tang from the sea. Yet, for a moment, he was sure he had smelt the heavy fragrance of a rose garden, as if he were back in England on a summer’s day. He lay back, mocking his own imagination. Then he caught it again, as if someone had splashed rosewater over his face.

Matthias went cold and stumbled to his feet. Something was wrong. He looked towards the stern castle. He could see no figure against the night sky. The Santa Maria bumped as if something were scraping along the bottom of the hull. Matthias scrambled for the alarm bell and rang it. The sound of grinding grew. Matthias looked to starboard: he could see the lights of the Nina ahead of him. Men were scrambling to their feet. Columbus came out on deck. Lanterns were lit. Juan Delcrose came down from the stern castle, his eyes heavy with sleep.

‘In God’s name, what’s wrong?’ Columbus shouted.

Men were peering over the sides even as Delcrose fell to his knees and confessed he had fallen asleep. Escobedo came scrambling up from the hold.

‘We’ve hit the rocks!’ he cried. ‘Long and jagged, well below the water line!’

‘Where?’ Columbus cried.

‘In the bows!’

The boat was lowered, desperate attempts were made to move the Santa Maria off the gap-toothed reef. However, a wind rose, the swell increased and the Santa Maria was driven further on to the rocks. Sailors below reported that the seams were beginning to open so, just before dawn, Columbus gave the order to abandon ship. The crew had planned to spend Christmas Day feasting and junketing. Instead, under Columbus’ lashing tongue, the Santa Maria, now holed beyond repair, was stripped of all its movables, which were brought to the beach or across to the Nina.

Two days later Columbus addressed the crews of both ships. The Captain General stood on a large sea chest, hands on hips, his face grey with exhaustion. He seemed to have aged in a matter of days but his voice was still strong, his chin set in determination.

‘There are too many,’ he began, ‘for the Nina to take.’ He let his words sink in. ‘We have travelled far and discovered much. It is time to return to Spain.’ He flung a hand out. ‘You saw how little time it took us to reach here. The journey home will be even shorter.’ He paused. ‘But not all of us will be able to go.’ He stilled the murmur with his hand. ‘By the powers given to me, I have decided, having consulted with officers, to found a colony here. I shall call it the Villa de la Natividad in honour of Christmas Day. I take the wreck of the Santa Maria as a sign from God, on the day his Son became man, that such a town be founded on these islands.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘The men who shall stay here will continue to search for gold and silver. You will be left well provisioned with food, arms and munitions. The cacique has promised his support.’ He smiled bleakly. ‘It is not too harsh a sentence: the land is pleasant, the sea warm, the islands well stocked with food, the natives are friendly, and the women. .’ Columbus let his words hang in the air. A shrewd man, he knew that many might prefer such a tempting offer than to be bundled abroad the Nina for an arduous journey home.

‘And what about you?’ a seaman cried.

‘I intend to leave on the Nina within the next few days. I shall go looking for Pinzon, return to Spain and, within six months, I shall return with new ships, troops and supplies. I have decided that, before we leave, a stockade will be built. The cacique and his men will help build huts. I promise; those who remain will not suffer because they have done so,’ Columbus now spoke more slowly, ‘when it comes to the sharing out of rewards and honours from their Majesties in Spain. Forty men will remain under the following officers: Diego de Harana, Pedro Guitirres and the Englishman, Matthias Fitzosbert.’ Columbus jumped down from the chest. ‘Who else will volunteer?’

Men leapt to their feet. Matthias, sitting with his back to a palm tree, closed his eyes and groaned. He knew the wrecking of the Santa Maria had been no accident. Even Columbus suspected treachery but that seemed incredible. Delcrose was one of Columbus’ principal supporters, a superb seaman and part owner of the Santa Maria. He confessed to falling asleep, claiming he had never felt so exhausted. Such a tiredness swept over him that he failed to ensure the Santa Maria kept in line with the Nina and so it had drifted upon the coral reef.

Matthias knew different. He recalled the sweet, heady smell of the roses and quietly resigned himself to the way the game was being played out.

The last week of the year was used by Columbus to build a stockade on a promontory overlooking the coral-edged sea. Trees, and wood from the wreck, were prepared to build a small stockade whilst, within the enclosure, the cacique’s men helped build huts, showing Columbus and his officers how they were to be laid out. One small gate was built into the side of the stockade, not far from a ready supply of water. The other looked out towards the forest and was protected by the bombards taken from the Santa Maria. Two huts were set aside for arms and provisions. A makeshift parapet walk was set up and a small tower.

Columbus had the men assembled, solemnly proclaimed the colony’s new name, gave de Harana and Guitirres his last orders, then he and the rest, having taken leave of the cacique, embarked on the Nina. Just before the ship left, with the natives assembled along the shoreline and the men of the newly founded garrison standing on the promontory, Columbus ordered the Nina to fire shot into what remained of the wreck of the Santa Maria — a farewell to his newly founded colony, as well as a harsh reminder to the natives of the power of Spain.

By 4 January Columbus had gone. He had taken no notice of Matthias, not even explaining why he had been chosen, though Matthias sensed the reason. Columbus did not trust him. He had been foisted on the Captain General by the Inquisition. He was the first to have seen the light on the first night they reached land. He had also been with Baldini, the only man Columbus had lost on the voyage, and been on deck when the Santa Maria had hit the rock.

Matthias had few regrets. If he returned to Spain what would wait for him? And if he tried to desert, Columbus might then seize the opportunity to use him as an example to others. He found the two officers, Guitirres and de Harana, just as cold: in the days following Columbus’ departure, Matthias was not included by the officers in their deliberations. Indeed, the two men seemed more concerned about vying with each other than maintaining any discipline in the newly founded colony. Matters were allowed to drift. No exercise or arms drill was held. No