Chapter 15. Virgin
Present day. Archivo General de Indias. Seville, Spain.
Seville, Spain, is home to the Spanish General Archives of the Indies, built in 1572 to house over 80 million pages of documents relating to the Spanish exploration of the world, including the exploits of Spanish conquistadors, the Papal Bull which divided the world between Spain and Portugal, the journals of Christopher Columbus, and the exploration of the New World by dozens of explorers. Emory University History Professor Charlie Winston had been pouring over the archives for the last week. He was writing a book about the father-and-son explorers John and Sebastian Cabot. His recent interest related to the 1531 trial of the son, Sebastian Cabot.
In Spain, the highest title for a navigator was Piloto Major. The Piloto Major was in charge of all navigation to the New World. When any captain wanted to embark on a new voyage to the New World, he had to first get the permission of the Piloto Major. After a voyage was completed, the captain had to report to the Piloto Major, turn over his maps, and, under oath, give an account of the voyage. The title Piloto Major was first created for Amerigo Vespucci, the man after whom America was supposedly named. Vespucci served as Piloto Major from 1508 to 1512. After Vespucci’s death, the title was given to Juan Diaz De Solis, who kept the title for several more years. After De Solis, all the Spanish navigators assumed that King Ferdinand would give the post to Juan Vespucci, Amerigo’s ambitious nephew. Instead, however, the King surprisingly gave the title to Sebastian Cabot, son of John Cabot, who had recently come to Spain from England. This greatly incensed not only Juan Vespucci but all of the Spanish navigators, who thought it beneath them to get permission to sail from a foreigner. Over the six years in which Sebastian Cabot served as Piloto Major, Cabot’s popularity among his peers dwindled by the day. In 1527, Cabot decided to “get out of town” and embarked on a new voyage to explore the lower regions of Uruguay. The voyage was a complete disaster. Sebastian Cabot marooned some of his crew, who had formed a mutiny. Over three-fourths of the members of Sebastian Cabot’s crew died on the voyage. When he came home, there was practically a lynch mob waiting for him. Pressured by members of his crew who hated Sebastian Cabot and made up vicious lies about what transpired on the voyage, as well as mothers of the fallen crew in the port of Seville who were angered that their sons had died, officials put Sebastian Cabot on trial for dereliction of duty. Charlie Winston, who was one of the leading experts in the world on John and Sebastian Cabot, was interested in this trial. Fortunately, the Seville archives had several volumes of the trial transcript, as well as diaries from some of the witnesses at the trial. Winston had been pouring over these transcripts and diaries. He had not found anything earth-shattering, but there was enough good material for his book chapter on the Cabot trial.
Charlie Winston loved American History. At six foot three inches, the African-American educator was one of the tallest professors on the Emory University campus. Even though he wore glasses, he could still make the young female Emory students swoon. The attraction between students and teacher only went one way, however. Winston was in love with his wife Murielle, his high school sweetheart whom he met when the two grew up in Atlanta. She worked at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta, the place where the most dangerous diseases in the world were logged, studied, tagged and bagged. The CDC was the country’s first line of defense in the war on germs, viruses, bacteria, and other really tiny things that could kill a person. Winston poured over the transcripts. He loved contemporaneous accounts like these. It almost made him feel like he was there, 500 years ago, when the greatest navigators in the world were telling of their exploits.
The trip had been tough on Winston’s family, of course. These scholarly jaunts always put lots of strain on Murielle and their ten year-old son Teddy. Winston had tried in his mind to forgive the young eighteen year-old who had weaved across the center line to hit the SUV, but forgiveness was hard business. Watching his son every day struggle to make it into the car, helping him with his self-catheterization every four hours to relieve the urine from his bladder, seeing his frustration with his inability to perform the simplest tasks—Winston wanted to kill that eighteen year-old on most days. On other days, he was just happy his son was alive. For his part, Teddy had seemed to adjust well enough to the injury. Winston secretly believed that Murielle harbored resentment towards him for allowing the accident to occur. She had never said that, of course, but he could see it in her face. Sometimes, these journeys to foreign lands on the University’s dime were a welcome relief for Winston, who could absorb himself in the past and temporarily forget the real problems that awaited him at home.
It was frankly amazing, Winston thought, that Teddy had been injured in a car. Winston had always thought that if his family was going to get hurt, it was going to be from a pathogen that his wife had brought home from the CDC lab. She worked as a scientist in the CDC’s Level 4 Biohazard Lab, the place where deadly viruses like Ebola were stored in a freezer. Winston had seen the movies—just one cut of the biohazard suit and his wife could catch a fatal disease. It was mind-numbing to think about, so Winston and his wife tried to ignore the ever-present danger. Winston liked the TV show The Office, and would pretend in his mind that his wife was going off to work at the Dundler-Mifflin Paper Company, and not at an ultrahazardous bio lab.
He had not been able to hit the pool here in Seville, as he had been too excited once he had gotten his hands on the centuries-old transcripts. Winston was reviewing a diary of the trial written by Francisco De Rojas, a member of Sebastian Cabot’s crew who was the prosecution’s lead witness. Winston had spent several hours reviewing the diary, making notes. When he finished the last page, he saw a folded letter pressed like glue against the back page. Winston took out his magnifying class to inspect the page. Removing his pen knife, he gingerly eased the stuck letter from the last page of the diary, and, placing it on a sheath of white gauze, gingerly attempted to open the letter with a pair of tweezers. Wearing white gloves, Winston patiently opened each fold of the paper until the entire sheet was laid out in front of him.
It was definitely a letter. Some of the ink was too faded to read. The letter was dated January 5, 1531 and it was signed by Juan Vespucci. From his prior research, Winston quickly identified the signature as appearing to be the signature of the real Juan Vespucci. The letter was addressed to the trial witness de Rojas. The letter was written in Spanish and read:
Francisco:
I hope the trial is going well. I hope that Chabotto will be punished for his gross incompetence on your recent voyage. As you know, I have been against the cause of this English usurper since 1518, when our King foolishly decided to put us under the thumb of a foreign Piloto. To think, Spanish pilots would have to bow down to an Englishman and ask his permission where to sail! In that year, fearing that the foreigner might gain control over all Spanish nautical maps and journals, I hid the earliest of my uncle’s journals and maps [ILLEGIBLE]…. When Chabotto went on his long journey, I felt it safe again to return the documents to the archive room for the Padrón Real. As you know, Chabotto’s trial [ILLEGIBLE]…. If Chabotto is acquitted, he may make things difficult and seek his former post from the King. I think it better that I find a permanent [ILLEGIBLE]…. I have hidden them behind the place where Columbus, Pinzón, and Uncle Amerigo stand together. If anything happens to me, please make sure the documents are kept safe. May you have God’s providence at the trial and may the Virgin watch over you.
Juan V.
New journals and maps! From Amerigo Vespucci himself! This was quite exciting for Charlie Winston. Wait until he told Murielle and Teddy! He could add this to his next class lecture. If he could actually find those maps, his next book might actually sell more than a thousand copies. The place where Columbus, Pinzón, and Vespucci all stood together.... Where was that, he wondered?
Where did all three stand together? Vicente Yáñez Pinzón was captain of the Niña, one of the three boats in Columbus’ first voyage, and his older brother, Francisco Martín Pinzón was first mate of the Pinta. But Vespucci was not on that voyage, so that didn’t fit. Winston made a note to hit the computer tonight and do some research. Winston made a photograph of the document using a special filter so that the camera would not damage the document, and then reported his finding of the Vespucci letter to the Sevillian Chief Archivist. It took some time to explain the significance of the finding to the Chief Archivist, as well as the need to treat the document with the greatest of care for future inspections. At about 2:00 p.m., Winston was finished with the Archivist, and went out into the bright sun outside the General Archives Building. He looked up at the swaying palm trees. It sure was beautiful here. He called his wife’s cell, but she did not answer, which was not unusual. He called his son Teddy’s cell and rousted him out of bed to tell him about his discovery.
“Dad, why are you calling so early?” Teddy groaned.
“Sorry. I forgot it’s six hours earlier there. Has Mom gone to work?”
“Yes, lately, she has been getting to work really early.”
“Teddy, you’ll never believe what I discovered here. I found a lost letter which had a reference to lost maps and journals by Amerigo Vespucci!”
“And I care about this—why?”
“Oh, Teddy, we really have to go over your History books when I get home. Amerigo Vespucci, one of the most famous explorers in the world. Oh well, never mind, I will tell you about it when I get home.”
“You’re coming home soon?”
“Yes, I leave Seville tomorrow.”
“Good, ‘cause Mom’s getting crabby with you gone.”
“Did you tape the ESPN Lumberjack Contest?”
“Yes, Dad. I don’t know why you like seeing men race each other to cut down trees.”
“I like ridiculous sports contests. What can I say?”
“Well, listen Dad, great talkin’ to you and all, but can I go back to sleep?”
“Sure, punk. I will see you when I get home.”
“Love you.”
“Love you.”
Winston still had an hour or two to kill before going back to the Hotel. After that discovery of the letter, he was finished with his work here. He could not wait to get started on his new book. Winston decided to go next door to sight-see at the Alcazar of Seville. The Alcazar of Seville is a royal palace in Seville, Spain. Built in the eighth century by Arabs as a Moorish fort, and subsequently expanded by Spanish kings, the Alcazar features shimmering, reflecting rainwater baths, a shrub maze, palm tree-dotted gardens, and lavish tiled reception halls—a perfect and picturesque place for Winston to spend an hour or two relaxing. Winston looked around the shrub maze for a while, and toured the beautiful baths. After learning about the baths from a tour book, Winston strolled into the Patio de la Monteria of the Alcazar, which contains the site of the former Spanish “Casa de Contratación,” or House of Trade. Winston was interested in the Casa De Contratación because it was in this room where the master navigational map of Spain, called the Padrón Real, was formerly kept. The original of the Padrón Real had been lost through time, but a decent replica of it, which Winston had seen before, still existed in the Vatican Archives. When navigators returned from a voyage, after giving details of the trip to the Piloto Major, the places visited by the navigator would be plotted on the master map. Winston looked at his tour book. The Casa, according to the tour book, also included a chapel called the Hall of Audiences, a room where Christopher Columbus himself once had an audience with King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella for the financing of his second voyage to the New World. Winston thought that sounded interesting, so he went to see the chapel.
As Winston looked around, he saw a small Christian altar, and hanging on the wall just behind the altar was a painting. A tour guide was talking to a group of people nearby.
“The Virgin of the Navigators”, painted by artist Alejo Fernandez in 1531, was commissioned at the request of officials from the Casa, one of whom was Juan Vespucci, the nephew of Amerigo Vespucci.” The painting looked like this:
The tour guide continued. “The painting depicts the Virgin Mary casting the folds of her gown over the navigators of Spain and protecting them. The protected individuals include Ferdinand II, Emperor Charles V, Christopher Columbus, Amerigo Vespucci, and one of the Pinzón brothers. The Virgin straddles the Atlantic Ocean and sailing ships at the bottom of the painting, protecting the sailors on the perilous journey across the ocean. It is the earliest known painting depicting the discovery of the Americas.”
Winston stared at the painting. The painting was painted in 1531, the same year as Vespucci’s letter to De Rojas. Columbus, Vespucci, Pinzón, all standing together! Winston thought of the last line of Juan Vespucci’s letter: “May the Virgin watch over you.” The pieces were all falling together. Winston looked up at the painting in awe and bewilderment. The lost journals and maps of Amerigo Vespucci were here, behind the painting, preserved for over five hundred years! Winston sprinted down the Hall of Audiences back to the Seville Archives to speak to the Chief Archivist. He would be staying in Seville a few more days longer than he had planned.