The Lady in Blue by Javier Sierra

Author:Javier Sierra
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

THIRTY-NINE

BETWEEN ISLETA AND GRAN QUIVIRA

Dawn was chilly and damp the next morning along the eastern slopes of the Manzano range. The encampment of the Indians and the two friars lay nearly eight leagues to the southeast of the mountain ridges. With the first rays of light, the Indians had already gathered their possessions and were covering the embers from the night before.

While the Indians were pulling out the last of the wooden stakes, the Franciscans withdrew to give thanks to God for the harvest of souls he had brought to them. They were well aware that it had not always been so easy, and that the progress the Church made in the New World had been paid for in blood. Soon elderly Jumanos crept up to join them in their prayers, falling down on their knees beside the Franciscans and leaning over to kiss the crosses hanging around the latters’ necks. They carried themselves like Old Believers. It was merely the latest surprise for the Franciscans, repeated evidence that this could not be the fruit of a misunderstanding, but of a divine plan. As soon as the prayers came to an end, the expedition once again set out for Gran Quivira.

The landscape around them changed dramatically as the daylight increased. They traveled from salt marshes to the sloping hills of the south, which were dotted with cactuses that drew the Indian’s attention. These stubby plants had fleshy spikes that they carefully broke off in order, as the Franciscans later learned, to ingest them in their kivas. Everything that grows in the desert has a use, whether sacred or profane.

Friar Juan wanted to learn a little more about their final destination. Over the course of their trek, he walked close to the old man who was farthest behind, asking him many questions.

“Friar,” the old man said, “ours is the only village built out of stone. The first time we saw the Castillas was when I was very young. They were astonished when they saw how we lived.”

“The Castillas?”

“That is right. They told us that that was their country’s name, and that they had come in search of the seven cities of gold, which we had never seen. They only stayed with us a little while. . . . We were not what they were looking for,” he said with a laugh.

“That must have been Vázquez de Coronado.”

“I do not remember his name, Friar. But my ancestors, who came long before me and were wiser, too, told me about his arrogance and his terrifying army. They were dressed in brilliant colors, but were more venomous than scorpions.”

“We are not like that.”

“We shall see, Friar.”

• • •

On the eleventh day of the march, the second day after the Franciscans had encountered the welcoming party, Sakmo’s party felt confident that they would soon reach their destination. All were in good spirits, no longer anticipating misfortune. When at last they saw the outline of their houses carved into the rock and, behind that, the barely visible cleft leading into the Canyon of the Serpents, their hearts were overjoyed.

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