Cempaxochitl

Shadows pass along a wall, soft voices murmuring in tongues. For the longest time the elements consume me, bone-chilling cold replaced by burning fire. Each thought disappearing with the horror of crashing, monstrous waves. Faces and hands fading each time I cry out, reaching for terra firma, God help me! So then, it is true, in my first moment of consciousness it comes to me that even a heathen will cry out at his end. Only, it does not end.

A cool, heavily calloused hand lifts my head, one of the soft voices speaks firmly and a small cup is pressed against my lips. A strange broth trickles across my tongue soaking my parched throat. It is not the worst draught, but part of me wonders if I had ever left the Indies and having died at sea, was now re-incarnated as a horse. The scent of musk and wet straw overpowers me. I am too weak to pull away. The cup remains firm until I finish drinking and a warm haze start to soak through my being. Somewhere outside a gull screeches and I smell the familiar salty brine of fish drying in the sun. I drift into the whirlpool again.

Mateo… Mateo…

My long dead brother Tomas is calling me back to life. I hear his voice clearly calling me as we chase the wild pigs on the estate of our Uncle Benito. The sun falls behind the rising storm clouds of the Andalusian plain, Tomas flashes his brilliant smile, how beautifully he rides. Always relaxed, on any horse, time stands still for Tomas. Then the clouds spew forth an all-consuming mist and like Elijah with his chariot of fire, Tomas is gone from my sight. I lunge forward reaching, crying out….

Tomas!

Now the voice is clearer, familiar, but not Tomas.

Mateo, awake. You are alive!

I see his face, I know him, the beard, it is wrong, it does not fit… Father Hector Ruiz.

Why did you bring me back to life Padre?

Always calm, the priest smiles at me.

I have not saved your soul Mateo. God has brought you back to me for a little while yet.

I wince in pain as I sit up.

Ah! The Almighty has a sense of humour then, because it would appear to me that we have both landed in hell.

I am never sure whether Ruiz appreciates my irreverence. He neither laughs nor rebukes. He is intolerably patient. I take in the room, trying to still my racing mind. Pieces of memory floating like golden petals on the breeze.

I sense rather than see my hosts. They have retreated to the shadows of this modest abode. It is one room, a rough stone or clay brick hut. I have cared little for architecture and my interest is not peeked in this far end of the world.

How long have we been here and where is here?

Ruiz motions with his hand to our hosts.

I am not sure exactly. Our hosts appear to be local, but they do not appear to belong to a tribe, or perhaps they have been exiled. I woke up about three, perhaps four days past. You have been in a fevered delirium until today. They have been giving us this golden clear broth, it must have some sort of medicinal purpose.

I look at my hosts again and motion to them to come closer. They do not move.

Scared?

Ruiz looks at me with pity.

Of course, we are tall strange men who have been spat from the sea. A mother and her daughter have a right to be afraid. Even then they have helped us.

It was true, the smaller figure was more curious and had stepped forward. Immediately her mother drew her back.

You are an educated man Padre, can you speak with them?

They have some Spanish. They have seen our ships and seen your type before.

My type?

Your armour and sword are over against the wall.

I look over, grateful that I still have at least one of my weapons.

No pistol?

Be grateful that your armour didn’t drag you under the sea when the ship went down. You must have been washed to shore by one of those monstrous waves.

How did you survive in those robes then?

I swam.

A seed of a memory is growing, the storm, our ship had made it through the eye of the storm, but the Captain had figured that we were well North of Veracruz. Then the storm had turned on us and we were torn apart, crushed against a brutal coast.

Do you think they could provide us with enough food and water to head South?

They are drying fish for us now, it should be ready by tomorrow. They have also given us a large sack of what appears to be crushed seed, a plant, or a flower perhaps. The mother has shown me how to make the broth they have been feeding us.

I look again the mother and her daughter, they are visibly shaking. Well they should. My life as a grown man has brought this world to many. I am a soldier of fortune and I am here for gold. Perhaps there is no harm in asking.

Do they know what gold is?

Father Hector Ruiz smiles ruefully.

You are yourself again Mateo. We have been concerned for your welfare, gold did not bring you back to us. There was no need to speak of it.

I turn to them and gesture outside.

Oro?

They both look at Ruiz. Does he shake his head, or is that my delirium, no matter, I sense their hesitation, maybe they don’t understand.

I ask again.

Oro?

The mother squats down on the dirt floor and draws. It appears to be some sort of map. The coast perhaps? She draws my sword at one end of her ragged line and then points behind me.

She points South along the coast. It must be Veracruz.

Ruiz looks relieved. Finally, a sign of humanity from the celibate one.

Then almost with a smile the mother adds a type of rectangle to her map, with an arrow pointing west, away from the coast and says slowly,

Cem-pa-xochitl, Oro.

I look at her, carefully. Surely it takes an intelligence to survive out here on your own with a daughter. Does she know what I am looking for? Perhaps she just wants to be rid of us, so will tell me what I want to hear.

Can you ask her how far Padre?

No.

Can’t, or won’t?

I don’t know her words for days or distance. We have used some signs and she understands some Spanish, food, water, men and now it would seem, Gold.

I draw a sun and a moon near her field, perhaps she will know time by day or night. She does nothing. I decide that I will look around for a day or two and regain my strength. Then perhaps I will try and understand our hosts more.

Ruiz interrupts my thoughts.

I think we should head South tomorrow.

I am still not strong enough.

Ruiz considers this.

True, perhaps the day after then. We must try for Veracruz and join Cortez.

Or we could save souls further West?

I have come to the conclusion that we were saved for me to grow your Faith, other Souls may have to wait. I will plant the seed now and see what grows.

With any luck you will grow me some Cempa… whatever she said?

Be careful Mateo, to seek what is needed is more valuable than any fortune. Surely this handful of crushed seeds from an unknown flower, whose broth has provided us with life is of more value to you than Gold right now?

Before I could reply, the small girl stepped forward proudly, pointed to the seeds in Father Ruiz’ hands and stamped her foot on the map. Looking at me she smiled broadly.

Cem-pa-xochitl!

Father Hector Ruiz stared at her for a moment only and then burst into laughter. I was still a little groggy and perhaps I did not want to understand what I had just heard. I realized that I was blushing.

South in a day or two then? Ruiz is wiping tears of laughter from his face.

I swear.

Padre, you can go further than South.

I lay back down and cover my face.