“What is your name?” Aguilar asked her. “I am called Malina,” Malinali said, not wanting to give her real name. Mistaking the “l” for an “r” in her pronunciation, Aguilar announced, “You are now christened Doña Marina.” Addressing her by her new name, Aguilar looked at her gravely and said, “Doña Marina, you are now a Christian.” Malinali still had very little idea of what he meant. She had nonetheless made the choice to stay with these Spaniards, rather than return to her Pontochan slave-masters, and she was glad she had made it.

* * * * *

A tall man stepped up to Malinali. “Doña Marina,” Aguilar spoke to her, “this is Don Alonzo Hernandez Puertocarrero. He is of noble birth, and is the cousin of the Count of Medellin.” Malinali wasn’t sure what this meant, but she kept on listening intently. “Captain Cortez has assigned you to him. You are to prepare his meals, wash and mend his clothes, and look after his equipment. Do you accept this?”

Malinali glanced briefly at her latest master. She had become quite expert at discerning the signals those who controlled her life gave off revealing their personalities, thoughts, and desires. She saw what Aguilar meant by “noble birth,” for Don Puertocarrero carried himself with a natural dignity and elegance. The look in his eyes toward her was respectful rather than crude and lustful. Although relieved that she had been given to this sort of man, she said nothing to Aguilar and merely nodded her head in assent.

Living in a floating village sailing on the Great Ocean soon became a thrilling experience for Malinali. She could not communicate with her new master except through gestures, but that enabled her to do her tasks quietly and stay unnoticed. She had the other Mayan women to talk to, but whenever she could, she focused on Aguilar, the one person through whom she could learn about these “Spaniards.”

“Señor Aguilar, how is it that you speak Mayan?” was her first question of him. “You are the only Spaniard who does.”

“Ah, you wish my story!” he said with a smile. “I, like all the others, come from Spain, myself from a small village called Écija in the region of Andalusia. I heard of the discoveries of a New World across the ocean when I was a young boy, and joined a crew to sail to a place called Panama. This was nine years ago (1). The next spring, I was assigned to accompany a Captain Valdiva carrying a report to our Governor in Santo Domingo on the island of Hispaniola.

“Our ship sank hitting shoals off small islands we call the Viboras, Vipers, near the big island of Jamaica. About twenty of us, with Captain Valdiva, got in a small boat and the currents carried us to Yucatan. There were only ten of us still alive, and when we landed, Mayans called Calachiones captured us. They killed Captain Valdiva and four others, and ate their bodies in a fiesta. I and the rest were put in cages to be fattened.

“But we broke out and fled. We came to another village where the chief, Shamanzana, didn’t kill us but made us slaves. It was there I spent the next eight years and learned to speak Mayan. Three of us died and only Gonzalo Guerrero and I were left. Gonzalo married the daughter of a powerful chief, Na Chan Can, and had three children. But I always dreamed of escaping and every day read my Book of Hours (2).

“My prayers were answered when messengers came to tell Shamanzana that my countrymen had come to ransom me. I ran to tell Gonzalo but his wife chased me away with curses. So I left alone with the messengers – but when we reached the place where the ships should be, they had left. I threw myself down on the ground and cried in despair. The messengers then told me the ships had sailed to Swallow Island (3). In a small canoe, we paddled across the dangerous waters to Cozumel only to learn the ships had sailed the day before.

“I was ready to drown myself, when suddenly I saw the ships returning! By a miracle, one of them had a leak, so they were returning to Cozumel to repair it. The two Mayans and I paddled fiercely up to the ship with the captain’s banner flying, and I called out, ‘Gentleman – are you Christians and Spaniards?’ They answered yes, and overcome with joy, I yelled, ‘God and Saint Mary of Seville!’

“When I came on board, Captain Cortez asked, ‘Where is the Spaniard?’ – for I did not look like one. My skin was dark brown from the sun, my hair was shaved like a slave’s, I had an old sandal on one foot and the other tied to my belt, I was naked but for a ragged torn cloak and a filthy loin cloth. I squatted on my haunches like an Indian and clutched my Book of Hours, old and worn and wrapped in leaves. I replied, ‘I am he.’

Cortez ordered clothes for me, a shirt and doublet, pants and sandals, and I told him my story. He embraced me and said God had brought us together.”

Malinali was grateful Aguilar had taken the time to tell her his story and thanked him. “Your life in some ways has been like mine,” she thought out loud to him. “I too have been a slave for the last eight years. You were fortunate to have somebody rescue you.”

Aguilar saw the look of resigned pain in her eyes. “Ah, you wish for rescue yourself?” he said. “Doña Marina – you have been rescued, just like me!”

Her eyes widened with wonder.

“You must understand – you are now a Christian!” Aguilar informed her. “Your soul has been freed! You are with us now, and no longer are condemned to a barbaric life.”

Malinali’s temper flared. “Señor Aguilar, how can my soul be free and my body not? How can I be a Christian like you and still be a slave?”

Aguilar was taken aback. He was silent for a moment. Finally he replied. “Doña Marina, you have asked a very good question.” He looked at her carefully, as if for the first time. “You are a very intelligent woman,” he mused. “Someday, I will ask you to tell me your story as I have told you mine. For now, however, I am sure Don Alonso needs attending to.” Malinali returned to preparing her master’s evening meal.

NOTES:

1. 1510.

2. A Catholic prayer book derived from the monastic cycle of prayer, dividing the day into eight segments or “hours”: Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, Nones, Compline, and Vespers.

3. Cozumel, Cuzamil (Swallow) in Mayan.