The Reincarnationist Papers Read online

  "I left my second family to find my first family again."

  "Bando, have you ever been to Zurich?" asked Juan, leaning forward to look for the tattoo on the back of the right hand between the thumb and index finger. He studied the black skin but saw nothing.

  "What is Zurich?"

  "Never mind, what was--" Juan stopped when he heard a footfall on the top step of the stairwell leading down into the hold. He turned toward the stairwell and saw Captain De la Garza's freshly shined boot. Juan's blood ran cold. He stood up and turned toward Bando again, who was already scrambling for the cover of the barrels.

  "Stop, look down and shut up," Juan whispered. Bando was began to panic. Juan began speaking loudly, "Goddamnit boy, I told you to stay in Cadiz. Do you realize what you've done; you could be killed for being here."

  "He will be killed," came a voice from the stairs. "He will be killed now," said Miguel calmly as he stepped off of the bottom step and onto the floor of the hold.

  "Captain, please spare the life of this boy, he is my squire of 3 months. I left him in Cadiz, but he followed me aboard. I am obliged by his family to look after his safety."

  "Then it appears as though you are errant in your duties Señor Victoria," said the captain menacingly, as he stepped toward them, drawing his sword.

  "Need I remind you of my travel letter, Captain?"

  "Need I remind you Señor, of the punishment for harboring a stowaway on the King's Ship?" shouted the Captain. They stood nose to nose.

  "No, Captain de la Garza you do not," said Juan, stepping aside.

  Miguel stood with his sword point at Bando's chest. "Stand up", he commanded in Portuguese. Bando got up, knees shaking. The Captain motioned toward the stairs with his sword. "Both of you." Juan had untied his coin purse from his belt while Miguel had focused on Bando and deftly dropped it at Miguel's feet when they turned toward the stairs. It was the larger of the two purses he had brought with him. The Captain stepped on it then stared directly into Juan's eyes. Juan returned the stare but said nothing.

  "How can I be certain he is yours Señor Victoria?"

  "Respectfully sir, you will simply have to accept my word as a Spanish Gentleman."

  "And no doubt a rich Spanish Gentleman at that," said Miguel, as he rolled his boot over the purse, trying to gauge its contents.

  "I used to be," said Juan, looking at Miguel's feet.

  The Captain stopped moving his boot, looked at Bando, then at Juan. "He eats from your rations and sleeps in your berth."

  "As you wish Captain."

  "I'll tell the crew," Miguel said, picking up the purse. He walked up the stairs leaving Master and Squire alone. Bando sat down on the floor of the hold and crossed his legs to keep them from shaking. Juan placed a hand on the banister of the stairwell, lowered his head and breathed deeply in a vain attempt to calm his nerves.

  The following days were tense. Half of the crew looked upon Africans aboard ship as a bad omen and the other half thought they just made poor conscripts. It was a full day after the incident with the Captain before Juan spoke to Bando. He found Bando below decks behind the same pickle barrel.

  "Come out from behind there," the Portuguese came without emotion. Dark rings of sleeplessness hung under his eyes from the night before. "Sit here," he said pointing to his bunk. Juan sat beside him.

  "Why did you save me?" asked Bando.

  Juan leaned back, his shoulders hunched to fit the concave of the hull. "That is what you are going to tell me." Bando looked at him blankly. "Tell me about your first family," Juan prompted.

  Bando stared at the empty bunk across the way and began to speak. "My father is called Kawaka. He is old, and he travels to other villages to trade. My mother is called Tisho. Tisho makes blankets."

  "What was your name?"

  "There, I am called Nez-lah. I am a silver shaper."

  Juan's attention focused more intently on Bando's words. "Where does this family live?"

  Bando shrugged his shoulders. "I've tried to find them. I haven't seen them for many seasons. I've looked for one season already. The sailors before didn't know where to look, so I found another ship, this ship," Bando looked up at Juan, "Do you know where they live?"

  Juan shook his head. "Do they look like you look now?"

  "No, their skin is tan, like that of the captain, and their hair is black and straight like yours."

  "Do you remember their language?"

  "Yes."

  "Speak to me in that tongue."

  Bando looked up at the crossbeams of the hold for a moment and then began chattering unintelligibly. Juan noticed that when he spoke in this strange language, Bando took on a new cast. He seemed brighter, he smiled, and his eyes shined. He was remembering, Juan thought. After several minutes Bando finished his mysterious litany and looked at Juan as if expecting an answer.

  Juan looked at Bando without expression. He did not recognize the language. He knew thirteen languages and had heard over fifty more in as many lands. He knew the peoples of the silk and spice routes to China and India. He knew the caravans of Africa and had heard their tongues as well. What Bando spoke was completely different.

  "What was the story you told?"

  "It is the story of Latsei[28]."

  "What is Latsei?"

  "It is the place of my first family."

  "Can you tell me the story in Portuguese?" asked Juan.

  Bando shook his head. "I do not know the words in Portuguese."

  "You said the Latsei have tan skins and black straight hair, yes?" Juan asked. Bando nodded. "Do they have eyes like this?" said Juan as he pulled at the corners of his eyes with his index fingers, making his eyes look Asian.

  Bando burst out laughing upon the sight of it. Juan looked unamused. Bando restrained his laughter and studied Juan's eyes, still circled by dark rings. Bando placed his fingers at the corners of the Juan's eyes, pulled and released, pulled and released again and still suppressing laughter said, "No."

  Juan stood up to escape Bando's newly found fascination and began to pace the length of the hold. Thoughts of the letters of Cabeza de Vaca and Pizzaro came into his head. It was copies of these letters that had provoked him to seek this commission. They told of strange and majestically painted heathens, all powerful kings, magic and gold. Perhaps these people Bando searched for lived at the edge of New Spain. His friend Hazard had spoken of living among such a people but he never found exactly where they lived. Juan wished he were here to speak with Bando. "You said you were a silver shaper?" said Juan, still pacing.

  "Yes"

  "Tell me about that."

  "I make jewelry and plates for our people to use and trade. I made them from silver, gold and blue stones from the mountains," said Bando.

  "Gold?" interjected Juan, stopping mid stride, his back to Bando.

  "Yes, much gold but more silver," said Bando.

  Juan turned round, his head down looking at the tops of his boots. "Do you know where this ship goes?" Bando shrugged. "It is going to a place rumored to be full of strange people and places. It could be your home."

  "Will you help me look for my family?" asked Bando.

  Juan turned and paced slowly toward the pickle barrel. "If we find them, will they let you shape silver and gold for me?"

  "Oh yes, I can shape as much as you like."

  Juan stopped again mid stride. A smile parted his perfectly shaped black goatee. "I will help you," he said.

  The weeks until landfall passed quickly and without incident, Bando helping out on deck and Juan still looking for the perfect time to tell his new squire of his true nature.

  Everything about this new land was green; the grass, the trees, the vines, the rocks, the water, everything. The port city of Veracruz stood out dramatically. It's two dozen virginal white buildings contrasted against the vivid greens. A church bell as large as any in Madrid rang the inhabitants to life as the ship slipped around the point into the empty harbor. Natives and Spaniards alike
ran out of every building toward the beach. All hands quickly negotiated the rope ladder into the three local boats that pulled alongside the larger Maria. These craft were piloted by small, tan skinned, dark eyed people with straight black hair. Juan looked over at Bando. The boy's eyes shined with excitement as he tried speaking to them in his unknown tongue.

  In moments they were at the beach. Spaniards, Portuguese, Palingenesists, and natives alike left the boats and clamored through the light surf until they felt their full weight on unwavering ground, only to fall upon hands and knees to kiss the sand, cross themselves, and look up to heaven with prayers thick on their lips. All crewmembers gave such thanks except Juan and Bando. Juan looked at Bando who was still knee deep in the ocean and looking out to the open water. The waves licked at his skin, making it look even darker. Juan thanked Viceroy Mendoza for the commission that brought him here, and as he watched he wondered who Bando thanked.

  The crew had orders from the Captain to return to the ship by midnight. Miguel returned to his ship alone and came into Veracruz proper only after two hours worth of log entries were completed. He made his way to the Inn that opened whenever ships arrived. There he found two Spaniards from his crew, already drunk, a clean and pressed Juan de Victoria and a smiling Bando

  By sundown the rest of the crew had joined in the drunken merriment. Captain De La Garza was the first to return to the ship. Bando wandered out a short time later.

  It had been dark for several hours when Juan staggered out of the Inn toward the room he had secured earlier. The moon shining on the buildings made them look just as white at night as the sun did during the day. Halfway there he found Bando wandering in the square. The room was small but surprisingly clean. It boasted one bed, a wash basin and vanity, a table and chairs, and a lamp on the nightstand. Bando prepared a place on the floor. Juan closed the door and sat on the bed.

  "Bando" said Juan.

  "Yes"

  "Bando, we have a problem," Juan weaved about slightly, unable to fix his eyes on his squire. "I haven't enough money for us to buy horses. Tomorrow, I'll have to steal back the money I gave to Miguel."

  Bando stood still. He looked guilty, as though he had already been an accomplice. "You will steal from the man that brought us here?"

  Juan closed his eyes tightly and rubbed at his temples, 'I shouldn't have mentioned this to him,' he thought. 'I've had too much to drink.'

  "Yes, I--, we need that money for equipment."

  "I know Juan," said Bando smiling sheepishly. Juan heard the sound of coins jingling. His hands froze at his temples as he opened his eyes. He looked up to see the small purse he had used to bribe Miguel. Bando held it in his hand.

  "You!--When?--How?" said Juan sobering up.

  "I wanted to help," said Bando

  Juan laughed softly and looked at Bando. He was relieved, surprised, and drunk. "I've underestimated you my friend, and for that I am sorry. You've done well, let's go to sleep." Juan was still chuckling to himself as Bando turned down the lamp, and continued until he fell asleep.

  Compostela was a small sleepy town at the very edge of the map, and one of the few that did not have an Indian heritage. They arrived to find a force of two hundred and fifty cavalrymen and foot soldiers already in place. The monotony of drills that were to last two weeks began the next day. Every day the entire force; officers, enlisted men and priests, practiced calisthenics, musket marksmanship, marching, horsemanship, and swordplay. By the time Viceroy Mendoza arrived, the men began to resemble an expeditionary force bound by the comradery of facing the unknown.

  Friar Antonio de Victoria began the send off proceedings with a sunrise mass at the eastern edge of town. Mendoza stood in front of his amassed force after the sacrament was finished and read a short speech extolling allegiance to God, King, and Commander Don Francisco Vasquez de Coronado. The viceroy then took his seat on the hastily constructed viewing stand and motioned for the parade to begin. It started with a swearing in ceremony for Coronado, then each soldier passed before an inspector and declared all his possessions for the trip as scribes documented the inordinate list of arms. They were then lead by order of rank one by one to Friar Victoria and with their hand on a cross took an oath out loud to uphold the name of God and King Ferdinand. Juan was 53rd. When the last of the officers had taken the oath, they formed ranks, unfurled pennons atop their lances, and rode off the map past a beaming Mendoza.

  Juan and the other scouts rode days out in front of the main force. The scouts rode with native guides or in pairs. Juan and Bando rode together. Bando was very adept at hunting rabbits and did so nightly, on the fourth night out of Compostela he brought back two for Juan to cook.

  Juan took a shot in the dark. "Bando, do you remember how you died?"

  "Yes"

  "Tell me please," said Juan as he began preparing the meal.

  "I fell from the rocks above my village. I climbed up the rocks to meet Teszin in our secret place. She was very beautiful and she loved me, but she was to marry the son of another leader. It was arranged by her father. We met in the rocks above village many times to be together. I climbed up early that day to wait for her in our regular meeting place. I fell asleep and when I awoke it was night. I was alone. I tried to climb down the rocks in the dark and fell."

  "What do you remember about dying?" Juan asked.

  "I remember I slipped twice. I knew how high I was. I was scared. I felt the wind blowing. It was a cold wind." Bando's eyes glazed over. "After I fell I forgot my family for many seasons."

  They both sat in silence. He knew that Bando was one of them. It's in the detail of the memories. That's the key. 'I remember the wind blowing, a cold wind.' That made him believe. Nobody remembers the wind blowing when they die unless it was. It was enough to convince him and the others as well, he thought. Juan turned to Bando as the flames from their campfire licked at the roasting rabbits. "Bando, you spoke to me before of your first family. Did you ever speak to anyone else about this?"

  "Yes, I told the elders at my village in Africa. I told sailors on the first ship. And I told you," said Bando.

  "How did they react when you told them?"

  "The elders made me leave. The sailors laughed at me. And you listened to me."

  Juan smiled. "You and I are special Bando. Those other people are not like us. They don't remember their other families. They can only remember the families they have now. And because of that they don't believe us when we speak about ourselves and often make us leave or laugh at us." Bando sat bathed in firelight and stared at Juan as he continued to speak. "From now on you should not speak of this to anyone else, for your own safety, and mine. Do you understand?" Bando nodded solemnly. "When you die you will be born into a new family and you will remember this life as you remember your other life now." Juan leaned forward as if to make a point. "And in that next life, you and I can meet again in different bodies, be friends again, and remember everything we did in this life, even eating two rabbits in one night."

  Bando smiled. "I want to be friends over and over again."

  "We will Bando. You and I are different from the others, but we are not alone. There are others, like us who remember," said Juan, looking up into a clear star filled sky.

  "How many others?" asked Bando.

  "There are 14, including me."

  "What are they like?" asked Bando enthusiastically.

  "They are like family Bando, centuries old friends. When you tell them the stories of your other lives and families they do not laugh or expel you, instead they ask you to tell another one, and then welcome you with one of their own. They are the only ones who ever understand what it’s like to be different. As you go on living through family after family, lifetime after lifetime, they are the only ones who will know you. They will be your only true contemporaries."

  "I'd like to meet them," said Bando.

  "And they you, no doubt. If you can convince them that you do remember your past life, they allow you to join the
m and be part of their family."

  "But we find my family first, right? How I can have two families at one time?" asked Bando.

  "You will see," said Juan. "Eventually you only have one family."

  Weeks stretched into months as the expedition snaked north through river valleys and mountain passes. Juan and Bando and the other sets of scouts continued to ride days in front of the armada, like so many probing, boney fingers. Bando began to recognize plants and cacti the farther north they traveled. Every day Bando pressed Juan to ride a little farther in search of some landmark he could recognize. They rode on arduous ridgelines in order to gain the greatest vista of the country beyond. It was atop one of these ridgelines that they heard a salvo from the main forces' wheel lock muskets. Five shots total signaled for all scouts to return to the main force.

  One of the Captains, Hernando de Alvarado, had found a city of Indians over the horizon[29]. He described it as a city on top of a city. It was without temples or battlements, and was the first major settlement they had encountered since Compostela. Coronado gave the order. In the morning they would ride on the city. A fever of anticipation ran through the ranks that night as each man speculated on his prospects for the next day. Talk of gold and jewels broke up the drone of stone on sword.

  By mid morning they were within view of the Zuni city of Hawikuh. The multistoried city of mud walls and crude ladders looked to offer little resistance, and little gold. Undaunted, they rode forward. Figures were visible frantically running about the compound. Two men ran out from a ground floor room and began to lay down a narrow strip of ground corn flour in a circle around the complex. It appeared to be the city's only defensive fortification.

  Coronado rode up to the edge of the corn flour strip and stopped. He dismounted along with four officers and together with the priests, breached the circle and approached the earthen walls. They were met halfway by a group of five half clothed Indian men. The inside of the city bustled with activity as the two groups of emissaries gestured and shouted at one another. Then without warning, a single defender atop one of the walls let fly an egg sized stone at the intruders. It tumbled haphazardly and hung in the air for what seemed an eternity before it found its mark against the white plumed helmet of Coronado, who was knocked to the ground by the surprise impact[30]. The officers dragged their dazed commander back across the corn flour defensive line and charged the walls.