The Columbus Affair: A Novel

Two other crewmen raised their swords in support.

The prisoner knelt.

Columbus faced him. “Did you think me so stupid?”

“Admiral—”

He raised a hand for silence. “Four years ago they returned me to Spain in chains and stripped me of all that was rightfully mine. Then, just as suddenly, it was restored.” He paused. “With but a few words, the king and queen pardoned me for all that I supposedly had done. Did they think me ignorant?” He hesitated again. “They did. And that is the greatest insult of all. Years I begged for funds to sail the ocean. Years, I was refused. Yet with one letter to the Crown, I was granted the money for this fourth voyage. One request, and all was provided. I knew then something was wrong.”

Swords continued to be held close. Nowhere for the captive to go.

“You are a spy,” Columbus said. “Sent here to report back on what I do.”

The sight of this fool disgusted him. The man represented all of the treachery and misery he’d been forced to endure at the hands of Spanish liars.

“Ask the question that your benefactors want to know,” Columbus demanded.

The man stayed silent.

“Ask it, I say.” His voice rose. “I command you.”

“Who are you to command anything?” the spy said. “You are not a man of Christ.”

He absorbed the insult with the patience that a hard life had provided. But he saw that his compatriots were not as forgiving.

He pointed to them. “These men are not of Christ, either.”

The prisoner spit on the ground.

“Was your mission to report back all that occurred on the voyage? Were these crates we have here today their goal? Or is it simply gold they are after?”

“You have not been truthful.”

He laughed. “I have not been truthful?”

“The Holy Mother Church will see your eternal damnation in the fires of hell.”

Then he realized. This agent was from the Inquisition.

The greatest enemy of all.

A fire of self-preservation rose within him. He caught the concern in de Torres’ eyes. He’d known since they’d left Spain, two years ago, of this problem. But were there more eyes and ears? The Inquisition had burned people by the thousands. He hated all that it represented.

What he was completing here today had been designed solely to thwart that evil.

De Torres had already told him that he would not risk being discovered by any Spanish examiners. He would not be returning to Europe. He intended on settling in Cuba, a much larger island to the north. The other two men holding swords, younger, more eager, had likewise made their decisions to stay. He should, too, but his place was not here, though he wished things could be different.

He glared down.

“The English and Dutch call me Columbus. The French, Columb. The Portuguese, Colom. Spaniards know me as Colon. But none of those is my birth name. Unfortunately, you will never know my true name and you will not be making a report to your benefactors waiting in Spain.”

He motioned and de Torres plunged his sword into the man’s chest.

The prisoner had no time to react.

The blade was yanked free with a sickening sound and the body hinged forward at the knees, slamming face- first to the ground.

A growing pool of blood stained the earth.

He spit on the corpse, as did the others.

He hoped that would be the last man he would see die. He was tired of killing. Since he would shortly return to his ship and leave this land forever, there would be no repercussions from the cacique for the six deaths. Others would pay that price, but that was not his concern. They were all enemies and he wished them nothing but pain.

He turned and finally studied where he stood, catching every detail that had been described.

“You see, Admiral,” de Torres said. “It is as if God Himself directed us here.”

His old friend was right.

It did seem that way.

Be as courageous as a leopard, as light as an eagle, as fast as a deer, and as strong as a lion to do the will of your Father in heaven.

Wise words.

“Come,” he said to the others. “Let us pray that the secret of this day will long stay hidden.”