‘I know nothing of you.’ Columbus leant forward. ‘You seem to have an honest face. I received the letter from the Inquisition that you were to come, be part of the crew with the specific duties of master-at-arms. However, you are not on my manifest and I shall not mention you in my log. Most of the crew here are seamen from Palos, about two or three are from gaols elsewhere: people whom the authorities in Spain want as far away from them as possible. You are one of these. I am Captain General. I have the power of life and death over everyone in this fleet. You will carry out my orders and that’s all I care about. I don’t give a fig about your past or why you are really here. If we return to Spain, Torquemada wishes to meet you again. I expect you to obey my orders. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir!’
‘Good. Your duties are light. Remember: don’t try to climb the rigging or mast, you’ll only go overboard. I haven’t got time for a search. However, you can be part of the forward watch. Each man does four hours every day, sometimes in the morning, sometimes at night. I expect you to be awake when I do my rounds.’
‘What are we looking for, Captain General? I mean, we are sailing into the unknown. .’
Columbus smiled bleakly. ‘We are setting sail for the Grand Canaries, no more dangerous than a jaunt along a river. But, when we leave there,’ he held his hand up, ‘the Portuguese may have men-of-war waiting for me. I’m to give these the slip. Once we are out in the open,’ he pushed his face closer, ‘it’s land, do you understand, Fitzosbert?’ Columbus stumbled over Matthias’ name. ‘For the man who first sights land, there’ll be a pension for life.’
Matthias was dismissed. Later in the day he was given his place to sleep in the corner of the forecastle. Matthias’ goods were stowed away with the rest. There was no mattress, only a threadbare, rather smelly grey blanket.
In the succeeding days Matthias became accustomed to the humdrum routine of the ship. He was relieved that any sea-sickness soon passed, and his ability to participate in different duties, including a watch, soon made him acceptable to other members of the crew. They drew him into their light-hearted conversations and banter about each other: the sexual exploits of women who lived in the Canaries; of Columbus and their dreams of what they might find out in the unknown ocean. They were a tough group of men, self-sufficient, with little respect for authority, even for the Captain General.
‘He’ll have to prove himself,’ Alonzo Baldini declared. He was a fisherman from Palos who had also served as a pirate. He rubbed his hands. ‘What I want to see are these women on the Grand Canaries.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Do you know that before a virgin is married, she is fattened with milk until her skin is plump as that of a ripe fig. The people there claim that thin maidens are not as good as fat ones.’ He licked his lips. ‘Once she is fattened she is shown to the groom.’ His voice dropped to a whisper because of Columbus’ strict instructions against impure and Godless conversation. ‘She’s shown naked,’ he whispered, ‘like a cow at a fair.’
Other members of the crew joined in, making tart observations on what they hoped to do before they left the Canaries. They told Matthias that he should hire the service of a good whore because the women of the Great Khan were too small for Spaniards and not able to cater for their sexual needs.
Matthias half-listened. Staring round the moon-dappled deck, he idly wondered which of these men did not possess their own soul. Was the Rose Demon amongst them? So far he had encountered nothing to provoke any suspicions and he wondered about the old stories he had read in Oxford — could demons cross vast expanses of water? And, if they did reach lands across the Western Seas, would Matthias find peace? A sanctuary from the forces which had pursued him for most of his life?
Six days after leaving Palos, the Pinta and Nina closed up behind the Santa Maria. Following the glow of the brazier which was slung over the flagship’s stern, they followed it into the harbour of San Sebastian, which stood on the cliffs overlooking the port on the island of Gomera in the Canaries.
The rest of the day was spent in bringing the ships alongside each other in the harbour. The Pinzon brothers came over to confer with Columbus whilst the crew waited to see what orders would be given. At last, late in the afternoon, Columbus announced that the Pinta would be sailing back because of a fault with its rudder whilst he would wait to present his compliments to Lady Bobadilla, the widowed ruler of the Canaries. The crew were, therefore, given leave to go ashore.
Matthias found Gomera a restful place: its white, gleaming buildings, small, cool wine shops, gardens and vineyards and the great, green expanse of the island stretching up to the rim of an extinct volcano. The islanders were an easy, careless, merry group of people who welcomed the ships and the gossip they brought.
They landed at Gomera on 12 August. Matthias spent the first few days wandering round the seaside port. He then went out into the countryside to view the great dragon trees. Huge, red-barked, with strangely arranged branches, these produced a red-coloured resin highly prized as a medicine.
Matthias mixed with the crew, but after a while he grew tired of days and evenings spent in the tavernas carousing and quarrelling with whores. He took to journeying out, going for long walks, climbing the escarpment of rocky ridges and sitting under the cool shade of the trees. Below him sprawled San Sebastian and he could make out the Santa Maria and Nina, their sails unhooked, as Columbus changed the rigging, eager to catch every breeze once he had set sail into the unknown ocean.
Matthias listened to de Torres or the little fisherman, Frederico Totonaz: their constant chatter about their families, beloved ones, girlfriends, as well as whispers about Columbus being mad, that he was a secret Jew and how he possessed secret information on what would happen across the great ocean. Would they sail into nothingness? And, if there was land, would the women be comely and welcoming? Matthias compared their concerns to his own life. He felt no attraction towards women — sometimes a desire to empty himself, to stroke smooth flesh, to bury his face in a woman’s hair — but then he’d think of Rosamund and his desire would fade. Only now and again, particularly in the last weeks of his imprisonment in Granada, had Matthias confronted the problem which clouded his soul. Was he the son of Parson Osbert or the offspring of a demon? Was that possible? If it was, was his soul lost and damned before he was ever born? But, if that was the case, why these constant confrontations? What was at stake? What was the issue?
On the Feast of the Assumption 1492, Matthias sat on the hillside and stared down at Columbus’ ships. Despite his coldness, Matthias felt a kinship with the Genoese. The Captain General was an outsider, a stranger, a man driven by a burning ambition. On the voyage from Palos, Matthias had listened to the crew and watched the admiral of the Western Ocean. Columbus was driven by one thought and one thought only: to find out a new route to the Indies, to bring back the treasures of Cathay and Cipango and lay them at the feet of Ferdinand and Isabella. Matthias moved deeper into the shade of a dragon tree. And what would happen if they ever did return? Matthias was totally determined not to fall into the hands of Torquemada yet it seemed that no royal protection could save him from the Inquisition. And what happened if the voyage went wrong? Would Matthias be blamed? Bundled off into some dungeon to be tortured and quietly garrotted? Matthias shifted uneasily. Should he continue this journey? Columbus was determined to sail as soon as all was ready. Matthias knew from the gossip that other ships sailed to and from Gomera. He could travel back to Lisbon, beyond the arm of the Inquisition, and then into France, perhaps Italy?
Matthias rose and made his way slowly down the hill. So immersed in his thoughts, he was oblivious to the warbling of the birds and the beautiful variegated butterflies which moved in clouds from one bunch of flowers to another. He entered the back streets of San Sebastian. It was still early in the afternoon. He felt thirsty so he called into a small taverna. He bought a jug of chilled wine and sat in the corner sipping at it, wondering what to do. He was lost in his own thoughts: sometimes he was back at Barnwick, or waiting on the ridge at East Stoke.