“Si.”
“Look here.” The first soldier showed himself something of a philosopher. “If everybody agrees that the world is flat, then that’s what it is. That’s how it is with reality. Don’t you see? Reality is whatever everybody agrees it is.”
“The world is round!” Colombo repeated stubbornly.
“That only proves that you’ve lost touch with reality,” the first soldier told him.
“And if I prove it’s round?”
“Then everybody will agree it’s round and that will be reality. But until everybody agrees, then the world is flat. And if you don’t agree, then you’re avoiding reality. And if you do that, you’re nuts!”
“Reality is what is—not what people think it is,” Colombo insisted.
“Reality is what people decide it is,” the first soldier insisted.
“And if you persist in disagreeing, then you’re alienated,” the second soldier pointed out.
“With me, alienation is a way of life,” Colombo said.
“That sounds pretty detached,” the third soldier decided. “How do you expect people to like you with that attitude?”
“It’s nice to be liked, but sometimes it’s better to be left alone,” Colombo replied.
“See!” The first soldier felt he’d proved his point. “Now you’re withdrawing all the way. That’s what happens when you turn your back on reality.”
“Reality is a crutch,” Colombo concluded. “It’s truth that counts. And the truth is that the world’s round!”
“Oo-oo-oh! Is he stubborn!” The fourth guard threw up his hands in disgust. “Stub-bor-ren!”
At this point Doña Maria emerged and beckoned to me. “The Queen has agreed to see you,” she said.
The soldiers stood aside respectfully as I followed Doña Maria from the antechamber. The little man looked more wistful than envious at my being granted an audience. His expression said that he would continue to wait patiently no matter how long it might take.
Queen Isabella was a faded Spanish beauty of some forty years. She was spread out over a chaise longue nibbling at a box of chocolates when I entered. Prodded by Doña Maria, I bowed very low and stayed bent over until the Queen spoke. “You may rise,” She said.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I straightened up.
“Doña Maria tells me that you are a demon.” The Queen peered at me shrewdly. “You don’t look like a demon. You look the same as any other man.”
“Naturally,” I told her. “If I looked like a demon, I’d be burned at the stake in a wink. Being a demon, naturally I take the trouble to disguise my demonic nature.”
“That makes sense,” the Queen granted. “But then how can I be sure you really are from the nether-world?”
“That is a problem,” I admitted.
“Perform some magic,” the Queen ordered. “That will prove that you really are what you say you are.”
It was a tall order. For a moment I was stymied. Then I had an inspiration. “If I can make you hear a voice from the nether-world, Your Majesty, will that convince you?” I asked.
“Si.”
“All right then.” I fiddled with the dial of the wrist radio.
After a few seconds there was a burst of song from the tiny speaker. “All we ask is a chance . . . A chance to get into your house . . . A chance to get into your mouth . . .” I flicked it off and looked at the Queen.
She was impressed. “Does everybody speak English in? the nether-world?” she wanted to know.
“Not everybody,” I answered.
“Do they always sing there?” she wondered.
“Not always.”
“What does it mean, what they were singing?”
“It’s a secret chant,” I told her. “Only us demons know what it means.”
“It sounded obscene,” she decided.
I couldn’t argue with that. Frankly, it sounded obscene to me, too.
“But then I suppose that’s to be expected,” the Queen continued. “After all, witchcraft is obscene. Isn’t that true, Doña Maria?”
“It is erotic, Your Majesty,” Doña Maria admitted. “But it’s only obscene if you look at it that way. The important thing is that I have summoned Wica here to help you with the problems of your sovereignty. He has agreed to put his supernatural powers at your disposal.”
“I am convinced that he is a demon,” the Queen said. “But how do I know he is a beneficent and not an evil spirit? How do I know it wouldn’t be best to have Torquemada exorcise him right out of this world?”
“How do you know that Torquemada is not really a servant of the devil?” I countered quickly.
“That is a point, Your Majesty.” Doña Maria backed me up. “After all, even Rome has questioned the authenticity of his Inquisition. You’ve been going along with him for years and the country is in a chaos of fear. I have risked my life by telling you of my practice of witchcraft, and I have only done so out of loyalty to Your Majesty. Believe in Wica as I do.”
The Queen thought a moment and then nodded. “Very well.” She turned to me. “What is your advice, Wica?”
I’d been thinking about that while I waited in the antechamber. Now I had an answer ready. “Firstly, do not sanction Torquemada’s plan to drive the Moors, the Jews, the Gypsies and the witches from Spain,” I told her. “Stop this slaughter before it starts. These people help Spain and keep it strong. Don’t stamp out their vitality.”
“All right,” the Queen agreed. “For the time being I will use my influence to see that my husband, the King, holds Torquemada within bounds.”
“I have a second piece of advice,” I told her.
“Si?”
“There is an Italian sailor waiting in the antechamber. He has been trying to see you for some time.”
“I know him. He is reported to be a madman. He raves about the world being round. He is obsessed. I have just about decided to turn him over to the Inquisition.”
“Don’t do that,” I advised. “Instead, grant him an audience. Hear him out. Give him the financing he asks for his expedition. He will discover many new lands for Spain and bring you much wealth and glory.”
“Are you trying to tell me that the world is round? That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it any more ridiculous than the voices you heard singing before?” I pointed out. “All things are possible.”
“Wica has spoken,” Doña Maria told the Queen. “I beg Your Majesty to heed his advice no matter how outlandish it may seem.”
“Very well. I shall do so,” the Queen agreed.
The audience was over. I followed Dofña Maria from the room. As we emerged, a page summoned Columbus to the Queen’s chambers. I noticed with satisfaction the looks of astonishment on the faces‘of the four guards.
Doña Maria arranged for sleeping quarters for me at the castle. When she had left me, I stretched out on the sumptuous featherbed and thought over my new situation.
So far I had been successful in thwarting Torquemada and preventing the worst phase of the Spanish Inquisition from starting. If I could maintain my influence with the Queen, then I might indeed succeed in rewriting one of the bloodiest pages in history. But would I be able to do that? And what about Torquemada? What sort of man was he? ‘What would he do to combat my interference? I fell asleep wondering about that. By the time the following night was over, I knew.
That night began with Doña Maria taking me by coach to a large house on the outskirts of Madrid. Earlier in the day, she had given me some idea of what was to take place there. She had arranged a meeting of witches to pay homage to Wica. And Wica—-me, that is—was expected to bestow his “blessing” on the witches. That much I understood. What I didn’t understand until I got there was the exact nature of the “blessing” I was to bestow.