excerpt
I rehearsed many times along the way what I would say to Diego de
Losada when I entered his new city of Santiago de León de Caracas,
wearing my tattered cassock.
But when I finally saw him, still surrounded by Infante, Gregorio
and Pánfilo, I discovered my anger over Guacaipuro’s assassination
was difficult to keep in check. My ability to serve as a diplomat for
Apacuana’s people was severely hampered by my disdain.
They directed me to a wattle and daub hut that served as city hall.
Losada sat behind the long table he had carried all the way from El
Tocuyo. The rest of them stood.
“I’m pleased to find you in good health, Friar Salvador,” Losada
said. “We feared the worst. Although I must say you are in need of a
tailor.”
I kept my silence, having resolved to let him speak first, to show I
was subservient to his office.
“We are all in need of a good confession around here, I can assure
you,” he added.
Even Infante was willing to laugh at this.
“But, please, be so kind as to explain the overwhelming number
of Indians you have brought with you. Surely you realize you have
caught us thoroughly unprepared.” It was not clear whether he was
referring to his lack of hospitality or his military readiness.
I bowed, hiding a gesture of disgust at the smell of his unwashed
body. I had long ago learned to bathe daily.
“I thank you, don Diego, for receiving me,” I said, and waved my
arm to acknowledge everyone’s presence. “I thank all of you. I have
come to inform you that you have achieved your objective.
Guacaipuro’s death was a terrible blow to their morale. The caciques
had a meeting, and twenty-three have agreed to seek peace.”
Libros Libertad 