I was ravenous, but then I saw Pánfilo, and all thought of hunger
vanished. He sat on the sand, face contorted in a scowl, lower lip
purple and swollen. He glowered at me as we passed and then
looked away. Bartolomé stopped the moment we were out of
earshot. I could see he was in no mood for games.
“What the hell have you done? Why did Pánfilo look at you as
though he wanted to shit on you?”
I didn’t answer.
“Well?”
“It doesn’t concern you.”
He scowled at the sea and nodded several times, right hand
casually massaging his buttock.
“The damned things must have some kind of venom in them. It
burns like hell.” He was silent for a moment. “You know, Salvador,
you may be a friar, but you are still my brother.”
“I’ve died to the world. I only live for God.”
“I’ve died to the world. I only live for God.” He guffawed. “My
balls! God knows why on earth he gave you this brother! Likely as
not because of you’re such an ass.”
I raised a hand to silence him.
“Come, let’s walk.”
The sun was an orange half-circle in a mackerel sky, falling into
the sea. We continued in silence along the beach, leaving the men in
the ghostly shadows of the fire. Only the waves breaking on shore
and the rippling of the rosary beads were heard until Bartolomé
finally spoke.
“There are no more pearls around here. They took them all and
sold the Indians to Castilla del Oro.”
“Where is that?”
“Further west, where Nombre de Dios is. Beyond Cartagena, the
coast turns north toward Nueva España.”
This was mere small talk. I shoved my hands into the wide sleeves
of my habit, fingering my hairy arms. Crabs ran sideways from their
holes in the sand toward the security of the sea, their pincers open
should we dare to attack them.
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 