Caribbean by James A. Michener Read Free Book Online Page B

mysteriously vanished forever.
    But it was the third obscenity that was in some ways the worst, for it not only destroyed a thing of robust beauty but also foreshadowed what the new world would be like. When Karúku chose for himself the hut once occupied by Bakámu and Tiwánee, some of his men, acting on their own, began to knock down the croton plants, both those in front and those in back, and when Karúku himself protested, shouting: “Keep them!” one of his lieutenants explained: “Assailants might hide in those bushes in a plot to murder you,” and Karúku, acknowledging the advisability of clearing the area, nodded: “Clear the space!” and the crotons were slashed to the roots.
    As they fell, Tiwánee realized that the tyrant Karúku had acted not through strength but through fear, and she felt contempt for him: Despite his great power, he has not found courage. He is driven by demons. He does not move like a hero, but like a coward. And scorning the frenzied acts of Karúku, Tiwánee whispered: “He has to be afraid of his own men! He’s frightened of shadows! But Bakámu, living freely, was afraid of nothing.”
    She watched with sorrow as the hedge she had so lovingly tended disappeared, and as she watched she spoke to her plants in a kind of trance, for she knew they would revive:
    “Grow, croton, to the highest reach of heaven
,
    Undisciplined, determined to be free
.
    Red, yellow, blue, dark purple, lively green
    Spattered with gold and iridescent all
.
    Allow no man to master you, stand free
,
    Hold to your roots. Surrender never! Grow!”
    As she bade her farewell to the croton, she realized that the three hideous events which had repelled her so violently had not involved the killing of human beings, but the assassination of benevolent ideas, and when she saw the destruction of these great good things, she felt herself so outraged that she was prepared to fight even the spirits of hell to resist the new order.
    The formalities of the victory feast began. Four women specially designated to honor heroes slain in battle reverently lifted Bakámu’s corpse and bore it to the edge of the flames, where they recovered the branches which had been placed across his breast. These they delivered to Karúku, who accepted them, carried them solemnly back to the pyre, and tossed them as votive offerings into the flames. Then, whirling about with arms upraised, he shouted: “Victory! Victory! Our new home!”
    The fire roared, the human flesh was roasted, and the feast began, but Karúku would not be allowed to enjoy it. For when Tiwánee saw the leaping flames, she uttered a sigh of tragic resignation, as if she could no longer absorb what she had been forced to witness this day. Quickly her ancient courage reasserted itself, and she cried out: “I can bear this outrage no longer!” And from the folds of her garment she took the fire-hardened dagger, intending to kill herself rather than submit to the brutality that now controlled her village. But then she saw Karúku reveling with the victors, and she was so mortally offended that with a strength she had never known before she broke from her captors, dashed up behind the Carib leader, and plunged her dagger through the middle of his back and deep into his heart.

O N J ULY NINTH OF THE YEAR 1489 ACCORDING TO THE C HRISTIAN calendar—a day noted as 11:13.8:15.6. in the much more accurate Maya rendering—on the remote island of Cozumel at the extreme western end of the Caribbean, the thirty-seven-year-old widow of the High Priest who served the local Temple of Fertility faced a grievous crisis.
    She was Ix Zubin—the first name signifying
female
—and she was admirably qualified for what loomed ahead. She was robust in health, just under five feet tall, and built as if constructed of three sturdy globes: buttock, breast and dark round head. Her very black hair met her eyebrows in a straight bobbed line, creating the effect of a permanent scowl, except that