Life is short, the art long, opportunities fleeting, experience treacherous, judgment difficult.
—HIPPOCRATES
“And you trust la Vieja to lead you to this water?” Sotomayor asked as he had helped Juan Ponce don his armour. He’d heard a strange and peculiar story, particularly from a man so practical and hardened as his commander. A story of a sacred water, a life giving water, a water so pure it could bring immortality. He had heard of this before, of course, in the taverns and barracks of troops, passed on through native rumour. It was said to be somewhere west in a land undiscovered. He had heard too of El Dorado, the city of gold, also hidden far to the west. There were those who believed it. He himself did not. He had had no reason to think on these tales beyond the cup of wine he drank as he heard them recited. Sotomayor took what came as he found it. Too often others embellished their stories through superstition or too much wine. And yet here before him was Juan Ponce de Leon speaking, a serious man speaking seriously of a magical water and a witch who would lead them to it.
“I can only share with you, Cristoval, what I know from her,” Juan Ponce said softly.
“Now I understand your bond with her,” Sotomayor said. “None of us considered her more than a comfort woman to you. She is beautiful, I admit, though a trifle older than the girls I enjoy. Still, I thought there was always something more: just after Leonor’s death her rise in your household so quickly from slave to servant to mistress. I am glad you’ve told me. You’ve answered many questions.”
“So you believe me?”
“I believe she has told you something. That thing itself I find hard to believe.”
“As did I, at first. Yet as I said to Sotil today: there are countless unexplained things beyond us we have yet to witness. Who would have believed a continent between us and Cathay. Yet Balboa found another ocean and Vespucci mapped what we know of this one.”
“You told Sotil about this scouting party? It’s purpose?” Sotomayor asked.
“Not exactly,” Juan Ponce replied. “He was curious about our advance upriver tonight. I had to give him something. I said we were going to find a suitable site.”
“And the other men going with us?”
“My veterans you mean? They will follow me as I command. Yet I hold none as close as you, Cristoval. You are the only man I truly trust. As I’ve said before, you are the son I wish I had had. So I felt it the right thing to share with you.”
“I thank you, Don Juan. I will do your bidding because you are wise and have always had my best interests at heart. If you think the woman will lead us to your destiny, I will be with you.”
“And you will be the only one near the end. Unless we encounter combat I intend to leave the rest behind, along with las Casas, as we close on our goal.”
“And you’re sure of her?”
“She is a woman, and a native. I cannot believe she could devise anything as complex as this tale. No, I am not sure. But I am sure she believes it. Whether or not it is real we shall discover for ourselves.”
“Two boats waiting. I have command of the second?”
“Of course. I would have it no other way.”
Sotomayor completed his task, slipping the final buckle into place, tightening the leather straps just as he knew his friend liked them.
“You’ll need this,” Sotomayor proffered a cape much like his own, “to cover any glint of steel. It seems there will be no moon tonight but just to be sure.”
Juan Ponce donned the cape.
“What of these Calusa?” Sotomayor asked. “Do you think they’ve seen us?”
“Oh, they will know we are here,” the older man replied. “I’ve little doubt of that. But we’ll not see them until they choose to show themselves. I have some hope. The woman has told me Calos sent her to learn about us and to offer us part of his land to colonize. It is the reason Diego Colon thinks we are here.”
“Yet that was so long ago. This Calos could have changed his mind. There may be another tribal leader. Why not let me take the boats upriver, scout and observe, then report my findings? It is not necessary to expose yourself.”
“Ah, my friend, this time it is. If that sacred water exists then I will be first to drink it. If it is poisonous then you can return with the men. You can treat with the Calusa, set up a colony, take on the leadership of this expedition. I trust you as no other to accomplish these things. But this is my destiny. Somehow I feel it has always been. I have erred before. My regrets are too many to count. If this is another, then I must suffer it. But you shall profit from this. Your loyalty and love shall be repaid you whatever my outcome. Something good must come of this voyage outside of myself.”
“Is that why you’ve been so taken up writing in that peculiar book? Not the ship’s log, the other.”
“You know of it?”
“Everyone does, Don Juan. Some speculate it is plans for the colony, others say a list of tactics against these Calusa, a few call it your last testament. It is a mystery to us all.”
“It is less than that, Cristoval,” Juan Ponce said, “and perhaps more.”
He sat down for a moment at his desk, withdrawing the tattered book, soft now in his gloved hand, much used and drooping. He held it up for Sotomayor to see.
“It is my thoughts mostly. My chronicle, though not in the way others think of a history. It possesses little order for it has become interludes from my life written in self appraisal. It contains no real plan other than the water, some comment on this voyage and many of my memories as well. I neither know why I began it nor why I’ve continued, but it has been a respite for me. Though it tells some hard truths it contains softer reminiscence as well. In this desperate voyage near the end of my life I have written my life; tried to understand what has driven me. No one will read it for if I return with a cask of immortal water then it will not matter for I will have found every human’s dream. Who I am will be subsumed in my success. And if I fail... well, no one desires to read a man’s book of catastrophe.”
“If you have failed in any way, Don Juan,” Sotomayor said, “it has never been noticed until Colon and the audencia, and that was conspiracy; never your fault. You are not the kind of man who fails.”
“You forget the Carib.”
“You were not given the chance to go at them again. If you had ...”
“I had a different war by then.”
“That of Colon. He fears you, Don Juan. He knows your abilities. These new arrivals, these dandies of his, fear you deeply.”
“Perhaps I have lived too long,” Juan Ponce whispered.
“Not at all, my captain!” Sotomayor tried to haul his friend from the dark of self doubt. We’ve all heard the stories. And la Vieja is a wonder in her own strange way. I have no doubt she will lead you to your destiny.”
“Yes,” Juan Ponce responded, cheering a little, “and when we have drunk of it we shall return and make a colony of immortals. The woman has said there is much, much more to this land than Florida. She says she knows little but what she does know she has told me. She said it stretches beyond imagination; that her tribe trades with others far across this sea. I have no idea what she means but can only assume there are lands to the west and north. With a colony such as we will build, we will have the time and the will and the strength to explore so much further.”
“Now you speak of El Dorado,” Sotomayor said, laughing. He was joined by his friend.
“You are right, Cristoval!” Juan Ponce responded. “I am dreaming. Scheming as I always have. I’ve discovered that much about myself through this journal.”
He stood, walked toward the door, and opened it for his companion.
“But now it is time for another dream. One at a time, eh, my friend?”
“I look forward to this,” Sotomayor said. “I look forward to what this land holds for our futures and what we will make of it. And you have not lived too long, my captain. Just long enough to become even more legendary than you are now.”
“Legends are often fictions, Cristoval. It is why, just before we depart, I begin to so doubt myself. I wish not to be wrong in this.”
“Only one way to know,” Sotomayor said, passing through the doorway then climbing up to the deck. Juan Ponce de Leon, having been more open with his friend than any other person in his life, felt a weight lift from him. Come what may, this huge warrior would be at his side. That thought gave him comfort, and courage, in the midst of his mysterious quest.