Orson Card - Pastwatch - The Redemption Of Christopher Columbus

"Queen Juana," he said, "I'm sorry that your mother and father did not live to see my return from the expedition on which they sent me in 1492."

"So Cristobal Colўn was not a madman," she said. "And it was not a folly for Isabella to send him."

"Cristobal Colўn," he said, "was the true servant of the King and Queen. But I was wrong about how far it is to China. What I found was a land that no European had ever known before." On a table before their thrones he set a small chest, and took from it four books. "The logs of my voyage and all my acts since then. My ships were destroyed and I could not return, but as Queen Isabella charged me, I did my best to bring as many people as I could to the service of Christ. My daughter has become Queen Beatrice Tagiri of Caribia, and her husband is King Ya-Hunahpu of Caribia. Just as your parents joined Aragon and Castile through their marriage, so my daughter and her husband have united two great kingdoms into one nation. May their children be as good and wise rulers of Caribia as you have been of Spain."

He listened as Queen Juana and King Henrique made gracious speeches accepting his logs and journals. As they spoke, he thought of what Diko had said -- that in another history, the one in which his ships had not been destroyed, and he had sailed home with the Pinta and the Nina, his discovery had made Spain so rich that Juana had been given in marriage to a different man, who had died young. It had driven her mad, and first her father and then her son had ruled in her place. What an odd thing, that among all the changes that God had made through him, one of them should be to save this gracious queen from madness. She would never know, for he and Diko would never tell.

Their speeches were done, and in return they had offered him many fine gifts -- by Spanish standards -- to take back to King YaHunahpu and Queen Beatrice Tagiri. He accepted them all.

"Caribia is a large land," he said, "and there are many places where the name of Christ has not yet been heard. Also, the land is rich in many things, and we welcome trade with Spain. We ask you to send priests to teach our people. We ask you to send merchants to trade with them. But since Caribia is a peaceful land, where an unarmed man can walk from one end of the kingdom to the other without harm, there will be no need for you to send any soldiers. Indeed, my daughter and her husband ask you to do them the great favor of telling all the other sovereigns of Europe that, while they are welcome to send priests and merchants, any ships that sail into Caribian waters bearing weapons of any kind will be sent to the bottom of the sea."

The warning was dear enough -- it had been clear from the moment that the thousand ships of the Caribian fleet were first seen off the coast of Portugal. Already word had come back from the King of Portugal that all plans to explore Hy-Brasil had been abandoned, and Cristoforo was confident that other monarchs would be as prudent.

Documents were prepared and signed, affirming the eternal peace and special friendship that existed between the monarchs of Spain and Caribia. When they were signed, it was time for the audience to end. "I have but one last favor to ask of Your Majesties," said Cristoforo. "This city is known to all as La Ciudad de los Caribianos. This is because I would not give the city a name until I could ask you, in person, for permission to name it for the gracious queen your mother, Isabella of Castile. It was because of her faith in Christ and her trust in me that this city was built, and such great friendship exists between Spain and Caribia. Will you give me your consent?"

Consent was freely given, and Juana and Henrique stayed another week in order to lead the ceremonies involved in naming the Ciudad Isabella.

When they left, the serious work began. Most of the fleet would return to Caribia soon, but only the crews would be Caribian. The passengers would be Spanish-priests and merchantmen. Cristoforo's son Diego had turned down the wealth that his father offered him, and asked instead to be allowed to be one of the Franciscan contingent among the missionaries to Caribia. Discreet inquiry located Cristoforo's other son, Fernando. He had been brought up to take part in the business of his grandfather, a merchant of Cўrdoba. Cristoforo invited him to Ciudad Isabella, where he recognized him as a son and gave him one of the Caribian ships to hold his trade goods. Together they decided to name the ship Beatrice de Cўrdoba, after Fernando's mother. Fernando was also pleased at the name that his father had given to the daughter who became queen of Caribia. It is doubtful that Cristoforo ever let him know that there might be some ambiguity about which Beatrice the queen was named for.

Cristoforo watched from his palace as eight hundred Caribian ships set sail for the new world, carrying his first two sons on their different missions there. He watched as another hundred and fifty ships set forth in groups of three or four or five to carry ambassadors and traders to every port of Europe and to every city of the Muslims. He watched as ambassadors and princes, great traders and scholars and churchmen came to Ciudad Isabella to teach the Caribians and learn from them.

Surely God had fulfilled the promises made on that beach near Lagos. Because of Cristoforo the word of God was being carried to millions. Kingdoms had fallen at his feet, and the wealth that had passed through his hands, under his control, was beyond anything he could have conceived of as a child in Genova. The weaver's son who had once cowered in fear at the cruel doings of great men had become one of the greatest of all, and had done it without cruelty. On his knees Cristoforo gave thanks many times for God's goodness to him.

But in the silence of the night, on his balcony overlooking the sea, he thought back to his neglected wife Felipa; to his patient lover Beatrice in Cўrdoba; to Lady Beatrice de Bobadilla, who had died before he could return to her in triumph in Gomera. He thought back to his brothers and sisters in Genova, who were all in the grave before his fame could ever reach them. He thought of the years he might have spent with Diego, with Fernando, if he had never left Spain. Is there no triumph without loss, without pain, without regret?

He thought then of Diko. She could never have been the woman of his dreams; there were times when he suspected that she had once loved another man, too, that was as lost to her as both his Beatrices were to him. Diko had been his teacher, his partner, his lover, his companion, the mother of many children, his true queen when they had shaped a great kingdom out of a thousand villages on fifty islands and two continents. He loved her. He was grateful to her. She had been a gift of God to him.

Was it so disloyal of him, then, to wish for one hour's conversation with Beatrice de Bobadilla? To wish that he could kiss Beatrice de Cўrdoba again, and hear her laugh loudly at his stories? To wish that he could show his charts and logbooks to Felipa, so she would know that his mad obsession had been worth the pain it caused to all of them?

There is no good thing that does not cost a dear price. That is what Cristoforo learned by looking back upon his life. Happiness is not a life without pain, but rather a life in which the pain is traded for a worthy price. That is what you gave me, Lord.

Pedro de Salcedo and his wife, Chipa, reached Ciudad Isabella in the fall of 1522, bringing letters to Colўn from his daughter, his son-in-law, and, most important, from his Diko. They found the old man napping on his balcony, the smell of the sea strong in the rising breeze that promised rain from the west. Pedro was loath to wake him, but Chipa insisted that he wouldn't want to wait. When Pedro shook him gently, Colўn recognized them at once. "Pedro," he murmured. "Chipa."