A New Beginning

Santa Rosa led the group, sailing at full sail on the open waters. Behind it were the San Miguel and Santiago, two Caravela ships that sliced through the waters with ease and if they had been at full sail would leave the Santa Rosa, and her companion ship, the Sant Carlos behind. The San Carlos was bringing up the rear, the most heavily laden of the four as they sailed west toward the new world.

After six weeks on open waters the crews were beginning to grow anxious about nearing their destination, none more so than Tomas, the man who perpetrated a crime, for he was not who he claimed to be when he boarded the Santa Rosa as Esteban, who was the assistant to the priest, Cristobal de Onate. Father Cristobal was leading the expedition to bring the Lord’s salvation to the native people of the New World, or as all the crew knew to be the truth, his savage justice of forcing their submission to the Holy Roman Church, or more likely, their deaths to clear them out of the way.

Tomas stood at the railing, looking at the sun slowly drop below the endless horizon bringing another day to the end. He still held tight to the railing despite the smooth sailing they had enjoyed for over a week, for the first few days then the storm they had had to navigate still a fresh horror to his memory. It seemed he had stood at same railing, head hung over it, purging his stomach of all it contents for days after they had set sail. He had no idea sea sickness could be so bad. And just when he thought he had adjusted to the constant rolling and rocking of the ship, they entered the storm that would take three days to pass through. He had hung to the railing getting wet by high waves as he kept his stomach empty of its contents.

Now he watched the sun slowly disappear, it’s reflection on the water making him squint. He looked up at the sky, a blue unlike he had ever seen before, blocked by a few scattered clouds. Looking down was another blue, deep in color, dark, mysterious, and he imagined all kinds of monsters lurking in its depths. Behind were the voices of the crew, the boatswain calling out to the able seaman to check the ropes on the main sail, and some of the soldiers laughing and talking loudly while playing draughts. Back on the poop deck, the captain and pilot were standing next to each, yelling down to the chief steward. Tomas took no notice, keeping his attention out toward the horizon, wondering when it would finally change to land.

He knew the journey would be worth it, if he could escape The Church and its infernal Inquisition. How he got caught up in it still brought feelings of fear and caused far too many sleepless nights. As he stared at the last sliver of sun, the fiery ball about to drop below the horizon, he remembered what it had been like before. Before being discovered, before having to flee the only home he knew, crossing the countryside until he came to Sanlucar de Barrameda where he made his way onto the Santa Rosa. He still struggled with his feelings. First the love for another, then the hurt and shame of their betrayal. Finally the fear that was driving him from his home, going so far as to flee the entire known world.

The sky light up brilliant, with yellows, reds, and oranges painting the horizon, all of it bordered by blue, purple, and violet, the latter fading into an inky sky. Tomas looked at the bright colors and it made him think of Hector…

* * *

Tomas cut through the fig trees, and walked between the fields of durum. With chores done, the rest of the day was his to do with it as he pleased, and he was heading into the village to see Hector. Hector was his closest friend, and the only guy his own age. They had been choirboys in the Holy Roman Church and later, they became referred to as the village’s mischievous duo. They explored the countryside, swam in the nearby small river and searched out new adventures wherever they may be found. They were young men, taking on more and more responsibilities of their family’s businesses. Tomas worked in the fields, gathered figs or thrashing the durum, and when their own crops were taken care of, he helped one of the neighboring farmers with their cotton, orange grove or durum. Hector’s father was a blacksmith, his shop on the outskirts of the village, built within the ruins of what many believe was the first church of the village. Hector worked along side his father, learning the ways of bending or hammering metal into new shapes.

The small village was busy, everyone going about their usual business, and Tomas strolled down the lane heading to the largest residence of the village, the two-story stone walled structure that sat just past the crest of the hill the village sat upon. He walked past the church and could smell the incense being burned inside as they held Mass, then a short distance later, he had to breath shallowly from the stench coming from the hog pens owned by Benito Sanchez. He moved over the crest of the hill and saw young boys playing in the lane bringing back memories of Hector and him doing the same.

The front door stood open and when Tomas stuck his head inside he saw Beatriz, Hector’s mother, coming toward it.

“Tomas, Hector is up in his room. I’m late for church,” Beatriz exclaimed as she rushed past.

“Thanks,” Tomas replied, the word barely out of his mouth when he realized it was uttered to an empty room. He went up the steep stair to the second floor that consisted of three rooms, the one in back Hector’s.

There was no door to Hector’s room, just a rough framed opening, and through it Tomas could see the bare legs and the barely covered round ass lying on the bed. He eased up to the door feeling the stirrings that had haunted him for years, longings of a nature that the chruch had comdemned and others had joked about in the most crass manner. He knew it was wrong but he also knew he had no control over his feelings. He was drawn to other men, none more so than the one lying on a bed just before him. At the doorway, he saw Hector was stripped down to just the undergarment, his upper body bare, with skin glistening in the light. He froze, eyes locked on the long back and the dark hair of the head covering the neck.

Hector had thick curly hair and brown eyes so dark they looked black, and Tomas had found himself staring in them at times not comprehending what was being said. Hector began to call him a daydreamer, seemingly unaware of his longing that was behind the stare. 

“Tomas, is that you?” said Hector, raising up on his elbows and looking over the right shoulder. 

Tomas was breathless with his desires, and he struggled to control his emotions. 

“Yes, it is I.”

“I’m burning up. Papa had me in the field all morning. Let’s go swimming,” said Hector in a rush of words that Tomas struggled to understand. 

“Huh…oh, yes, let’s.”

Tomas knew it was dangerous. To go with Hector for a swim. If they went to where others went, down at the small waterfall that fell into a large pool, then he’d be safe, for with others around Hector would remain dressed. But if they went to the their secret place, further upstream to the place the river made a hard bend around rock, then…he dare not think of it.

Hector climbed off the bed and pulled on clothes still wet from where he sweated in them. Tomas backed from the doorway and went down to wait. The pad of feet on the stair told him Hector was right behind him. A hand came down on his shoulder, gave it a little squeeze, then Hector was going past.

“Come on Tomas, let’s go.”

They moved down the hill toward the river and when Hector turned off, following the path that would lead to the pasture Jorge kept goats, he knew they would circle it and keep going until at their secret place. The place they would be alone, just the two of them, and Tomas struggled with his emotions, the feelings of fear and shame, fighting in conflict with his desires and wants. He knew Hector would strip off everything to go swimming, and he would too, just to feel his nakedness within the cool waters. To feel their caress agaisnt his skin, imagining it to be Hector touching him.

The sun was blistering hot and they made their way across open land and through copses until climbing around the rock outcroppings that concealed the bend in the river. Hector didn’t hesitate, and Tomas watched the garments get pulled from his body and tossed carelessly on the ground. He looked at the lean body with its dark skin and long limbs and round buttocks, then saw it dive, disappearing from sight. He moved up to the rock that hovered over the small river and stripped off his own clothes. With undergarments tossed to the side, his shame grew at his growing aroused state. Hector was swimming away and didn’t see his cock was thickening and growing long and he dived quickly, hoping the cool waters would smother his arousal. 

They swam around, passing each other while moving back and forth in the waters. When they stopped, both breathing hard with their exertions, Hector slowly closed the distance between them until an arm’s length away. 

“It always feels so good to swim naked,” said Hector.

“Yes,” Tomas replied, not elborating on how it made him feel, and why. 

“I think Angela likes you,” Hector whispered in a conspirtorial tone.

“What? No,” Tomas stammered. Then he felt a need to push back. “What about you? Ines and Clara both have been pursuing you for two years.”

“I know.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” Hector replied before submerging straight down. 

Hector seemed to stay down far longer than normal but Hector could see him below the surface. He was tempted to reach out and pull him up, but then he realized, below the surface, Hector had a better view of him, and was down enough to see how he was still aroused, and he began to push back, increasing the distance between them.

Hector rose, pushed his hair back while inhaling deeply.

“You’re aroused,” he said matter of factly.

“I’m…just…its being naked and…”

“I know,” Hector interrupted, “me too.”

Hector closed the distance between them again, this time coming closer.

“Tomas, have you ever used your own hand? You know, to pleasure yourself?”

“What? No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s against the teachings of the church and…and…”

“Tomas, don’t be so.”

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“I want to now. I’m so riled up. It’s frustrating to feel this way, and to do it makes me feel relieved.”

Tomas looked down and saw Hector was touching himself, hand moving in that familiar way he knew so well, despite his denial. When he looked up, Hector was smiling at him. 

“I don’t like doing it in the water. Let’s get up on the rock,” Hector whispered, then he kicked off, moving to his back to swim to the bank near the rock. His body came to the surface and Tomas saw Hector was more aroused than he, cock hard as rock, and he followed.

Hector climbed up the bank then up on the rock and Tomas watched, seeing the naked body differently than before. It was more than just his own sexual desires and how it made him feel. Hector was suddenly more than just a friend, another guy his age, but now someone who was sexual, displaying arousal, so openly it made him forget his deepest fears.

Tomas followed, rising out of the water until fully exposed. His cock angled out half-hard, and he tugged on it once, then began to climb.

Hector used his clothes as a blanket and was laying back on them when Tomas moved up on the rock and sat opposite him. Hector took himself in hand and began to openly stroke his already hard cock. He moaned and lay back, eyes closed and mouth open, grunting in a way all too familiar to Tomas. 

After a short time, Hector looked up while slowing down.

“Tomas, aren’t you in need? Do it too,” said Hector.

But Hector didn’t raise up enough to see Tomas was doing it. His hand was on his growing cock feeling it thicken and elongate with his manipulation. He lay back and held his cock up for Hector to see he was stroking it. And to let him see how aroused he had made him. He moaned, letting it escape from deep within. It felt good, this relaxation in the hot sun, drying his skin while he stroked himself to full erection. 

“Tomas, I want to watch you while I do it. Move next to me,” said Hector.

Tomas didn’t resist, instead he moved around and next to Hector. He lay so close their arms touched, and it sent shivers down his spine and made him feel more aroused. He watched Hector stroke himself while stroking his own cock. He moved to the same rhythm, so agonizingly slow at first, but as they began to leak, their hands grow slick, their pace increased, until they could hear the sound of their hands moving slickly along cocks.

“Let’s do each other,” Hector whispered, “just to make it feel different,” he added as excuse.

Reaching over first, Hector pushed Tomas’ hand away and took the rock hard cock. With eyes glued on Hector’s hand, Tomas reached over blindly and took Hector. He felt the thick cock fill his hand, the the slickness of it as he stroked in rhythm with Hector. Soon their manipulations had them grunting, their bodies tensed up tight. 

“Tomas…oh…” Hector uttered, and Tomas felt the thick cock flex in his hand, and with each time, the semen ejaculate out and spray the torso, then dribble down his hand. He could smell it, this emission from Hector and he shuddered with is his own release, feeling the hot semen land on his chest and stomach. 

They lay panting, and Hector held up his hand and looked at the whitish liquid trickle down it. Then he brought his hand to his nose and sniffed it.

“You smell..the same but different too.”

Hector stuck out his tongue and licked at it.

“Odd taste.”

“Really?”

“Try it.”

Tomas held up his hand and watched Hector’s semen trickle down it and he brough it to his nose and sniffed. He captured the scent and realized what Hector meant. They were similar but there was something, some aspect that made it slightly different. He glanced at Hector, seeing the stare of the eyes waiting for him to do it. He looked at his hand again, then brought it to his tongue. The taste of it hit him, some odd flavor like none other. It felt taboo, but he found himself bringing his hand back to his mouth and licking it again, this time getting a better taste of it.

Tomas looked at Hector and saw him grin, wolfishly, and he smiled back, about to say they should jump back in the water and clean off when he felt Hector’s hand on his thigh. 

“Let’s do it again,” Hector whispered as the hand moved over Tomas’ thigh and toyed with the flaccid cock. 

“Shouldn’t we…”

“Sshhh,” Hector interrupted.

Tomas felt his cock respond to the manipulation, grow hard once again, and his arousal overwhelmed him. He wanted to do it again. He wanted to touch Hector in this way, and he wanted to do other things he had imagined late at night when he had been touching himself. He reached over and slid his fingers through the puddles covering Hector’s stomach until they found the flaccid cock. He toyed with it as Hector was doing him and soon he held another erection, Hector rock hard, filling his hand. 

Hands stroking hard cocks as they watched the other’s response. The flaring of cock heads, the pooling of the clear emissions that were slick, and the drawing up of the sac. Tomas felt a hand come to his shoulder, slide across it until cupping the back of his neck.

“Tomas…put it in your mouth,” Hector whispered.

“No,” Tomas whispered, afriad to do more. He was afraid it would reveal how he had thought of it before, so often it seemed to haunt him. He had imagined it, taking Hector in his mouth, but now that it was asked of him, he was afraid.

“I’ll do you, if you’ll do me,” Hector whispered.

A mutual pack, one where Hector would do it too, and it seemed real, something he could do.

“That’s fair,” Tomas uttered, as he watched Hector move around until they were lying opposite to each other, their heads at the other’s cock. Hector did as promised, tonguing the head of Tomas’ cock, tentatively at first, then slipping it in his mouth. Tomas stiffled a moan, then moved to Hector’s cock and he did the same.

Tomas moved down on Hector’s cock letting it fill his mouth. He took as much as he could, and worked his lips up and down it. He tasted the previous release, and sucked on the shaft until it was only slick with his salvia. He sensed Hector on his own, the pleasure of it, but it was a sensory pleasure to the back of his mind, for his attention was more on Hector’s cock that filled his mouth. There were moans and grunts, and Tomas didn’t know if it was he or Hector making them. 

The sun beat down on them with a relentless heat, only added to the one that burned within each. Mouths moved up and down hardcocks, tongues toyed with heads, and hands slowly, tentatively, began to rub over bare flesh, up over stomachs and chests. 

Tomas felt Hector swell thicker in his mouth, then flex with each eruption. His mouth filled and he swallowed over and over. Then he shuddered with his own release, filling Hector’s mouth.

They floated with the slow current, their naked bodies visible at the water’s surface. They horsed around and giggled like they had when just boys getting into mischief. Once their fatigued bodies cried out for rest, they moved up on the rock and let the heat of the late afternoon dry their skin. The rock was in shade and they napped in the comfort of it.

“We should get back,” said Hector, sitting up and looking around.

“Mom will be wondering where I’ve gone off to,” replied Tomas. He sat up and reached for his clothes as he watched Hector move around the rock gathering up his clothes. 

For the next four days, they made their way to their secret place and swam in the cool waters, lounged on the rock and sucked each other off two or three times each afternoon. There was no pretense about why they returned to the little bend in the river, with its rock outcropping that gave them a platform for sunning and sex. There was no hesitation in getting naked as soon as they arrived. For Tomas, despite all of his fears, life seemed perfect, for Hector was giving him something that fulfilled a longing he knew not to admit. 

The next morning a storm blew in from the south, and they knew it came out of the Atlantic Ocean, with its howling winds and torrental rains. It only lasted half a day, but the flooding would take days to subside and the rivers to return to normal.

Tomas found himself working tirelessly during the following days trying to save their crops from rotting in the fields and helping others search for missing livestock. He saw Hector only briefly during this time, smiling at each other knowingly, each wondering how long it would be before they could return to their secret place and show each other pleasure. 

It was five days after the storm before Tomas found himself following Hector along the narrow path to their secret place. He was in such anticipation of what they were to do his cock was already hard, and he wondered if Hector was the same by the way he tugged on the front of his pants. They were barely on the rock when Hector was tossing garments on the ground and Tomas followed suit, tugging off his own until they stood naked on the rock.

“Let’s swim after,” Hector uttered as he eased down on the rock, motioning Tomas to do the same.

‘After’ Tomas thought and the implications it held. After they pleasured themselves, touching the other with hands, mouths and tongues. He moved down next to Hector and they were soon sucking the other’s cock. They grew hard quickly, too quickly, and soon flooded each other’s mouth. Hector swung around and lay next to Tomas, and he dragged fingers over Tomas’ stomach, up the chest and circled around one nipple then the other. Tomas shivered and giggled at the ticklish nature of it. When Hector leaned over and kissed the right nipple, tonguing it, Tomas moaned, unable to conceal how it made him feel. Hector dragged his tongue over the hard nub, back and forth, then he bit down on it. Tomas cried out, shuddered with the shock of it, the pain, mixed with a pleasure he didn’t understand, but was revealed by his cock growing hard again.

“You like that?” Hector whispered.

“No…I mean…yes. It was strange. The pain and…” said Tomas, cut off by the feel of Hector taking the other nipple and biting down on it. He cried out and shivered beneath him. Hector moved upward and between his legs. Lips dragged over his chest, moved along the collar bone, then up along his long neck. They tugged on his earlobe, then tongue swirled around the curvature of his ear. He shuddered and pushed up against the body on top of him. It seemed natural the way Hector fit between his legs and when he felt the lips move along his jaw, then to the corner of his mouth, he was breathing hard, wanting so much more to happen. He wanted those things he only imagined in the past. The sex he could only imagine in vague detail, the imagines conjoured blurred with innocence and ignorance at how it were to really be done. 

But Hector was making it physical, something real, and when lips pressed agaisnt his own and cock touched him, pressed against his opening, he cling to him, desperate for fantasy to become reality. Hector pushed agaisnt his tightness and he wanted to be afraid, to be scared it would hurt, but he wanted it so, he pushed back. Hector moved down, slipped arms underneath his knees and moved back up, pulling his legs up. He felt his hips lift and the cock pressing against his opening with an insistence. Then it penetrated him, stretched him open and he clung to Hector and cried out. 

“Ohhh, Hector…keep going,” Tomas uttered as cock sank into his hole.

Hector sank into his depths and quickly begain working hips, tugging cock outward then plunging it back in. The pace of their fuck was brutal, unable to hold back for Hector was too naïve to know better. But neither cared. Tomas lay underneath him and took every thrust, feeling the fullness of the penetration and how it connected them. 

Tomas’ cock was pinned between them and Hector’s movements were rubbing it, making him grow more and more aroused. It was too much, the feel of Hector sinking into his depths and his own squeezed and rubbed between their bodies. He came, hard, shooting thick wads that smeared between them. It made Hector move slickly over his body, and soon, shuddering and crying out, Hector came too, filling Tomas with his load.

They dove off the rock, frolicked in the water, teasing and toying with each other, and when their cocks were hard again, they moved back on the rock where Hector took Tomas again, penetrating him and fucking until filling him with another load. 

They would continue until it was nearly dark. When finally dressed, Tomas followed Hector back to the lane and headed for home.

As they came into the village, Jorge ignored their greeting, going quickly into his home, closing the door. Up ahead, they saw three of the young girls run, disappearing into one home or another. They came to Hector’s home and Beatriz met them at the door.

“Hector, get inside, and Tomas, you go home. Your folks are waiting on your return.”

“Mama, what is it?” Hector replied, his tone revealing he was suddenly worried.

“Inside; now,” Beatriz replied, then she turned to Tomas. “Go.”

It was so curt, the tone so cold, Tomas knew something was wrong. He took off from home, running up the hill, and down the other side to his own home. He ran up to the door and before he could get it open, it swung open and Father Domingo of their church came to the threshold.

“Father?”

Matias, his father, came up behind the priest, looking over the taller man’s shoulder.

“Tomas, get inside. Father, we’ll ask for your prayers in this most serious matter. We’ll be at church tomorrow to pray.”

“Matias, we need to handle this sin as quickly as possible,” the priest replied as he gave Tomas a wicked stare before pushing past.

It was as Tomas feared. Everyone knew what Hector and he had done. Ines and Clara, the two young women who wanted Hector’s attention, had followed them. They had held back, not sure why, but arrived at the rock in time to see Hector on top of Tomas, their naked bodies moving in a way that could mean only one thing.

For Tomas it was worse than he his original fears imagined, for he had been seen beneath Hector, the one playing the role everyone thought was meant for a woman, not another man. He found himself in the church the next afternoon with far too many of the village in attendance. Hector sat with his parents, refusing to look at him, and he knew before the meeting started he was the one who would bear the burnt of the guilt.

He was accused of initiating it, that he put a spell on Hector, vexed him in some way. Hector was led to the front, made to get on knees and beg for forgiveness which he did, accusing Tomas of being the one to lure him to the river. There were calls for the Inquisition to be summoned and cries of witchcraft and devils, and evils that would destroy them all if it were not stopped. 

Tomas was eighteen, barely a man, and he didn’t understand how he could be painted in such a way, and he cried while keeping his head down, for to look up would only make him cry harder. He felt betrayed by Hector, how he was the one considered the most guilty. Even his parents sat apart from him.

Some in the village became more agitated, began to call for Tomas to be imprisoned, afraid to have him free to roam the village. Father Domingo asked for calm, then agreed to summon the Inquisition, knowing it was passing nearby in a few days. There was a woman accused of being a witch, with whispers she killed her elderly husband, mostly by her neighbor whom she had refused to sell her farm. 

Tomas was led to the small stone structure on the edge of town with its solid doors and small barred windows that was used to imprison the criminal and unjust. Without dinner, he was forced into a small dark room and locked in.

How long it had been, Tomas had no idea, but sometime during the hours of darkness, someone unlocked the door and held a candle up to illuminate the small room. 

“Angela?” said Tomas rising up from the dirt floor.

“Shh, keep your voice down.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

Tomas saw it in her illuminated face, the concern and worry. She really did care for him, and he felt an ache inside, one that spoke to his frustration at not being able to return her affections.

“You’ll get into trouble if you’re seen with me.”

“I know that Tomas, but this is wrong. Do you not know what the Inquisition will do to you?”

“They’ll burn me at the stake as a heretic.”

“It’s wrong,” she replied, laying a bundle down on the floor. “This is all I could get. Take it and run. Run Tomas, for your life depends on it,” she added, then stepped back from the door, blew out the candle and when darkness overtook the room again, it was as if she had been a spirit, something not even real. He felt his way across the floor and fumbled with the bundle finding bread, cheese and dried meat within it. He tied up the cloth and got to his feet. He had to get as far away as he could before first light. He moved around the building and away from the village, then he headed south, not knowing where he was really going. 

He made his way south, hiding some days when too near villages and towns, traveling at night when the moon allowed. It took three weeks to get to the coast and the bustling city of Sanlucar de Barrameda, and he felt like his journey wasn’t at an end, but he desperately needed to continue. If the Inquisition put out a reward for him, no place in Spain was safe. Moving through a market, he stole food, an ability honed over the last three weeks, as he made his way to the docks. 

The docks were in view, the ocean and sky blending together on the far horizon behind them. Tomas stood on facing it when he saw a priest’s assistant pass by, heading toward the docks. Even with the hood up, Tomas could see he was young, and seemed nervous. 

“Excuse me, are you going to the docks?” asked Tomas.

“Oh…” the young assistant turned to Tomas, “why yes. I’m to sail out with Father Cristobal de Onate for the new world.”

“Really? That must be exciting. Are you looking forward to it?”

The young assistant seemed to pale, and he shook his head. “No, I’m terrified of sailing. The long jouney with those things in the depths of the waters.”

“What ship will  you be sailing? I’m sure it will be a fine vessel.”

“The Santa Rosa, I think. Father Cristobal could choose the San Carlos if he deems the Captain of this expedition a bore, but…” said the assistant, hesitating. “The father will probably want the attention of the Captain. He is a proud man.”

“I’m Tomas.”

“Tomas, I’m Esteban. Esteban Martinez Romero.”

“When do you set sail?”

“First thing in the morning. I’m heading down now for the Father wants me to get our quarters prepared, so I guess I’ll be sleeping on board tonight.”

“Do you have the cure for seasickness?”

“There’s a cure? Everyone said there is no such cure.”

“Well, it’s a bit of questionable medicine, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, yes,” Esteban replied, getting excited.

“You won’t tell anyone?”

“No, no, please tell me. I know I’ll suffer otherwise.”

“I don’t want anyone to see it, so follow me,” Tomas replied, feeling guilty about what he was going to do. He led Esteban into an alley, down into its most shadowed recesses where Esteban thought he was just avoiding the prying eyes of others. 

Tomas had never done such before, but he struck quickly, knocking Esteban out. He stripped him of all his garments and changed into them. He dressed Esteban in his outer garments, tied him with strips of his undergarment and hid him away in what looked to be a storage room. He hoped no one found Esteban before the next morning. 

In the pockets of the robes, he found a cross necklace and a small document sealed with wax. He was tempted to break the seal, but knew it would be futile, for he could not read. He put the document back into his pocket and eased back to the road.  

On the docks, heading toward two of the largest ships, he listened to the banter of the men, hoping to overhear one mention the Santa Rosa. He was near the largest ship, it rocking gently next to the dock as supplies were being loaded on board, when a man walked past him, carrying a box.

“Is this the Santa Rosa?” the man yelled. 

Two men came to the rail and looked down. “Yes,” one called out.

Tomas watched him walk up the plank, it flexing with the weight of every footfall, as he made his way. There was an exchange of paper work, then the box handed off, and the man descended the plank and headed back to town. Tomas wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to try. He went to the plank and slowly made his way up, hearing some of the crew laugh at his unbalanced walk up. 

“Who are you?” one of the men asked as soon as Tomas stepped on deck.

“I’m T…Esteban Martinez Romero, Father Cristobal’s assistant.”

“You have proof?”

Tomas pulled out the rolled document and handed it to the man. He watched the seal be broken, the document unrolled, then the man’s eyes go back and forth showing him to be a learned man, one who could read.

“Very well,” the man replied, then he turned toward the stern of the ship. “Salvador! Show the priest’s boy to his room.”

The men laughed making Tomas wonder what was so funny about him being a priest’s assistant. He saw the one named Salvador come his way, grining at him in a way that did not speak of something being humorous. Not to him, anyway.

“Follow me, boy.”

Tomas followed Salvador across the deck to the stern of the ship. They went through a low door, turned and climbed down what was more a ladder than a stair, to the level below. Going down a narrow passage, they came to its end and Salvador opened a door to the side, motioning Tomas to enter.

“Thank you,” said Tomas as he passed and he entered a small room, one in the interior of the ship that was dark. “Is there a candle by chance,” he asked only to find the doorway empty, Salvador already gone. He fumbled around in the dark and gradually, as his eyes adjusted and with the door kept open to gain what light the lantern in the passage could provide, he finally could see enough to make out a white candle against the dark wood of the wall and shelf it sat on. He carried it out to the lantern, and using the sleeve of the robe, lifted the glass enough to light it. 

Back in the room he sat on the platform that was to be his bed and he realized he could lay on it and reach from wall to wall. He would realize soon enough the benefits of such a narrow room when the Santa Rosa got into stormy seas. At the moment it was claustrophobic. He wondered where the priest would be put up, and couldn’t believe it would be a room such as his own. He was wound up, anixous about everything that had happened and wondered if he was really going to get away with it. He lay on the hard platform, only one blanket for cover, thinking of all that could wrong before they set sail.

Some time later, there was a crewman at his door with a plate with some sort of stew floating around it in. It smelled like the meat had been burned and the vegetables were so bland he wondered if he could eat it, but his empty stomach spurned him to finish it. Then he lay back, still feeling anxious, but the days spent running had him exhausted and despite all his anxieties, he soon drifted off to sleep.

Tomas woke the next morning to men yelling and the thump of feet and items dropped on the floor above. He sat up, confused at first, then remembered, and with it a fear he had forgotten the name of the person he was pretending to be. 

“Esteban…Esteban…Manuel or was it Marcos?” he uttered aloud in a whisper. “Martin? No….no…it was Martinez Romero,” he said to much relief, realizing he had better get the name locked into his memory or he could find him tossed overboard. 

A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see Salvador in his doorway.

“Breakfast is being served on deck. Come now if you wish to eat,” Salvador uttered in a flat aggravated tone, and then he was gone.

Tomas went up, his stomach growling with hunger pains, and fell in behind a couple of the crew. He listened to their banter about the voyage they were about to set out on, feeling himself grow nervous at what he was undertaking. From the gangplank he heard men talking animatedly and looked up to see the captain and priest come on board. The priest was dressed far nicer than necessary and Tomas knew it to be a show. He watched the two men cross the deck, and head into the stern of the ship, knowing they were going to the captain’s quarters. 

Then he saw him, the captain’s boy, cross the deck and follow them inside. He looked young, younger than himself, and Tomas wondered what a captain’s boy duties were and if he could do them. Then he considered the boy, his appearance, and Tomas realized he felt an attraction to him that made him look away and back to the food being served.

After breakfast it was obvious to Tomas he needed to go back to his quarters for the ship was a hive of activity as it prepared to set sail. He hadn’t been in his room long when the priest stuck his head in.

“Esteban, come to my quarters,” Cristobal uttered, then went to his own door just visible through Tomas’ doorway.

Tomas followed, and when he entered the room stood in awe at the spaciousness of it and the line of windows that looked out the stern of the ship. The priest sat at a desk that sat near the windows to one side of the room and on the other a real bed. It became quickly evident the status the priest had on board, and that of his own.

“Come, sit,” the priest barked.

Tomas moved to the stool near the priest and eased down. 

“Can you write?”

“No Father.”

“Can you even read?”

“No Father.”

“Why do they try me so,” Cristobal mumbled, then he turned to the windows and watched the docks slowly recede as the ship moved away from them. “Very well, I’ll use you as I can,” he added and to Tomas’ ears it sounded ominous. 

“You can leave,” said the priest after looking at Tomas for far too long for comfort.

Tomas went to his room and lay on the hard platform, feeling the ship begin its rocking and rolling motion as it moved out into the open seas. It wasn’t long and he was running to the deck, finding himself leaning over the railing purging the contents of his stomach into the waters below. As he hung over the side, he heard laughter and comments about him, the priest’s assistance who was no sailor.

For nearly a week, Tomas felt ill, struggling to keep food down as the waves grew stronger, rocking the ship worse each passing day. Then one morning he woke to find he no longer felt ill, instead he felt a hunger like he had not felt since the day of their departure. He eased up, wondering what the priest had been doing, finding the door closed as it had been for most of the time since departing. He eased down to the cook’s quarters and asked for biscuit and some dried meat, which Alonso begrudingly gave him. Up on deck, sitting on a crate, he ate slowly, savoring each bite as he looked out at the endless horizon, the dark blue waters seeming to fade into the blue sky. The ship was at full sail, capturing the wind that was propeling them westward. The crew were in good cheer and some of the king’s soldiers lounged on deck. Up on the poop deck the captain and the pilot were in conversation, and to the side, the captain’s boy. Tomas stared at him, gave measure of the physical person. He was short, lean, and so boyish in appearance, Tomas wondered of his age. ‘How could he possibly be of use to the captain?’ Tomas wondered. 

The sun was in the western sky when Tomas realized he had spent most of the day staring at the water and horizon beyond as if in a trance. He went back to his quarters and lay down, feeling tired despite having done nothing except sit on the deck. He felt his body relax, his breathing slow and was just about to close his eyes, when he heard it. A moan, then some cry out. It came from the room above. There was a muffled voice, but he knew it to be the captain’s. Then he heard the grunting and moans that had to be the captain’s boy, and Tomas stared at the ceiling in shock, for it was the sounds he recognized. He had made the same sounds when he had been with Hector. It went on a long time, and Tomas wondered how the captain’s boy could endure it. But what shocked him the most was how the sound seemed to be coming from closer to the stern and had to be directly over the priest’s quarters. He knew Cristobal had to hear it, and by the door remaining closed, demonstrated he did not care. It was wrong in ways Tomas couldn’t express, when he considered how the priest back in his home village had responded to him.

That night, the ship relatively quiet, the priest came to his door.

“Esteban, come to my quarters.”

“Yes, Father,” Tomas replied, climbing to his feet and following the priest into his room. 

The room was dark, every corner in deep shadow, and he moved toward the desk where the only candle burned, just like a moth. 

“Esteban, come over here,” said the priest.

Tomas turned and saw the priest was sitting on his bed, and he patted at the spot next to him. It knotted his stomach to think of it, what the priest was insinuating, but he didn’t really believe a priest would do such a thing. He crossed the room and stood a couple of feet away. He looked at the comfortable bed with its mattress and thick blankets, and on the small table the remenants of his dinner, bones from fowl and a dirtied knife and fork. The priest looked up at him and his expression was different, relaxed in a way he had not seen before.

“Esteban, you are here to help me, are you not?”

“Yes, Father.”

“And some of that assistance is to help purge from me the temptations that surround us. You may not understand, but you have to do what I say. You have to help me purge the temptations by being a vessel for them. You have to take my temptation from me. Do you understand?”

“Not really, Father.”

“No, you innocent, I guess you don’t,” Cristobal uttered, then he reached out and took Tomas by the hand and pulled him to get closer. “But don’t worry; I’ll show you,” he added as he put his hand on Tomas’ thigh and slid it upward. He moved it to the crotch and manipulated Tomas’ cock.

Despite his fears and not wanting this from the priest, he felt his cock respond, and it shamed him. He felt too weak to fend off this advance. 

Cristobal stood and pulled his robe over his head revealing his nakedness, and how his own cock was already half erect. It was too much, the explicit nature of it. Tomas was disgusted by the priest’s assumption he was willing to do this with him, and he was disgusted by the hypocrisy. Cristobal reached out to pull Tomas’ robe off. At first Tomas stood in shock as the robe was tugged upward, for there was something about what was happening that troubled him, made him think of the priest back in his village.

“Lift your arms,” Cristobal whispered.

Tomas started to raise his arms, initial afriad to not do so, but then he felt an anger that was all consuming. It flared up within and fueled a rage that he couldn’t control. He pushed Cristobal on the bed, who believed he was only being frisky. He moved quickly, grabbing up the knife from the dirtied plate, pouncing on top of the priest and pushing the blade up to chin, threatening to push it upward through his mouth.

“You will not attempt this again,” Tomas uttered, barely able to control his voice. “I’ll kill you and dump you over the side if you do. Do you understand?”

“You can’t get away with this!” Cristobal exclaimed.

Tomas pushed the knife until it penetrated skin enough to allow blood do pool around the puncture and trickle down to the neck.

“What will you do? Tell the captain I wouldn’t do what his boy does for him? You want to start that kind of talk? Go ahead, and I’ll make sure they dump both of us over the side,” Tomas uttered with a shaking voice that revealed his anger, and he pushed the knife deeper. “I’ll kill you if you touch me again.”

Tomas pushed off the bed roughly, came to his feet and put the knife in his pocket, making sure the priest saw him do it. 

“I’ll not mention this misunderstanding if you agree to leave me alone for the remainder of the trip.”

Cristobal sat up, wiping the blood from his neck. He was visibly shaken and he pulled his robe to his chest to cover himself. “Very well…now get out. I don’t want to see you again.”

“Nor I you,” Tomas replied, backing to the door, still untrusting of the priest.

For days, Tomas expected the worst but the Cristobal left him alone, keeping his door shut and not venturing out except when to dine with the captain in his quarters. When he came upon the captain on deck one afternoon there was a laugh and a shaking of the head that left him wondering what the priest had told him. At first the crew were the same as always, but a few days later it was obvious they knew something had occurred between him and the priest.

He had just finished his biscuit dipped in wine one morning when one came up to him.

“Is it true? Did you really threaten to gut the priest and throw him overboard?”

The man was grinning from ear to ear and Tomas wondered what the story had become amongst the crew. He sat dumbfounded at being asked.

“So? Is it true?”

“I…he…”

“He tried to make you his cabin boy and you refused him?” the man replied, laughing. He slapped Tomas on the back and leaned in close. “If that priest bothers you again, lets us know. We’ll help toss the bastard overboard.”

Tomas sat stunned as the crewman walked away, crossing the deck to where others were standing. He saw them laugh and look his way, and he felt his face flush hot. He stood, nodded their way for he didn’t want to be rude, then he raced back to his quarters, shutting the door. 

He couldn’t help but consider what happened back in his village, how Hector was believed and he made the guilty one. He remembered the look the priest gave him, and then the look Hector received. They were noticeably different and he suddenly knew. The priest liked Hector and was jealous of the attention Hector had shown him. He had been made the scapegoat over a priest’s petty jealously, and he felt the old rage burn within. He looked at his door, as if he could see through it to the priest’s door and knew if the priest tried to mess with him again, he really would kill him.

It was two days later they entered the storm, and Tomas felt the illness swell his stomach making him purge all its contents. The only difference this time was some of the crew helped him, even Alonso coming by with biscuits to try to help him get something down. 

Once past the storm, the ship settled back into smooth sailing, Tomas found himself on deck more often, at times doing little things to help. Holding ropes, helping to move crates or doing some cleaning, and he found the labor involved made him feel better. He had been cooped up too much and to be doing some physical exertions gave him new life. 

One afternoon, holding a rope for one of the able seaman who was up at one of the sails, he saw the captain come out, followed by Cristobal, the priest. They were smiling from some shared comment. They seemed to be oblivous to him standing only a few feet away when they came to the railing and stood staring out at the horizon.

“You don’t think any of those savages will ask for the church’s blessings, do you?” asked the captain.

The priest laughed. “Of course not. They don’t speak Latin or Spanish. When I ask them to come forward they won’t know a word I speak, so they will hide in the woods. It’ll be perfect for the soldiers to just go in and kill them.”

“There have been some to come out and meet us on the beach. What about them?”

“Easier targets,” Cristobal replied, laughing. “No matter what, we will remove them so we can take the land as our own. The riches belong to us and the church, and I’m sure there is gold there.”

“The old tales do speak of it.”

“Yes, and it’ll it be ours soon. How long before we make land fall do you reckon?”

“Two weeks…maybe three.”

* * *

Tomas stood at the bow of the ship, the bowsprit projecting out in front of him pointing their way, and he thought about everything that had happened. Most of it seemed far away now. Hector and the betrayal, the journey to Sanlucar de Barrameda, getting on board the ship and his initial dealings with Cristobal. It was the overheard conversation between Cristobal and the captain that now occupied his mind. Who were the savages they spoke of, and did it make sense. Knowing the cruelty of Cristobal, he questioned it, knowing the way they planned to use the king’s soldiers to kill them spoke of a savagery not of the people of the new world, but of the men on board the ship.

He had no idea what he would do when the time come, but he knew he would not participate in the plans of Cristobal. He was a good swimmer and he was considering jumping overboard when near land and swimming ashore. He knew there was a need to be some distance away from the landing party and he wondered how he would do it. He knew some waters held strange creatures and monsters that could consume men, but those were from the deep. And near land he felt he should be safe. But then there were a whole host of new problems.

Turning, he looked to the east and saw the San Carlos some distance behind them. To the south, the two caravelas, San Miguel and Santiago. He wondered what life was like on those smaller ships. When they had been near each other, he had seen soldiers camped out all over the deck.

Six days later they rounded an island and the San Carlos signaled they were in distress. Sails were dropped and eventually anchors released. The crew of the Santiago dropped a row boat and and a crew of seven men paddled to the San Carlos. They never boarded, instead pushing away almost as soon as they arrived. They paddled to the Santa Rosa, and it was soon apparent they were nervous about what they discovered.

“Captain, the San Carlos has some fever on board. They initially thought it scurvy, but it is not. There are fifteen men dead and they expect another ten before tomorrow morning,” called up the crewman in the bow.

“Can they continue to sail?”

“I’m not sure. The captain and the pilot are two not expected to live.”

“Damn,” the captain uttered, then he turned to the pilot, “we no choice but leave them behind.”

The pilot looked to the chief steward and nodded, and the captain went to the railing to address the crew below.

“Tell your captain and the captain of the San Miguel we’ll set sail as soon as possible. The San Carlos can remain in anchor here and see if they can get control of this abnomiable curse before we return.”

“Yes, Captain,” the crewman replied as they pushed off the side of the Santa Rosa and began to paddle back to the Santiago.

It wasn’t long and the three ships were underway at full sail, leaving the San Carlos behind. They would never see each other again.

For a week the three ships sailed east then north, something that confused Tomas, especially how they passed a couple of islands on the way. He wondered about their destination, and the belief there were treasures to be found, and how the native people were to be slaughtered. It nagged at him for days, especially when on deck where he could watch the soldiers on board talk of it while gambling at some game.

He knew of the cruelty of such men and the closer they got to their destination the more he wanted no part of it, and his plan to jump overboard and swim to shore seemed more logical as the days passed.

“Land!  Land!” one of the able seaman yelled on the morning eight days since leaving the San Carlos behind. Tomas first looked to the northwest seeing nothing but open seas, but then he realized the crew were looking in the opposite direction, and there to their northeast, he saw it. A low thin sliver of green on the horizon.

Tomas grew anxious seeing the land they were heading toward. He questioned himself, worried his plan was foolish, feeling he should go to his quarters and hide from what was to come. But he stayed on the deck and watched as they drew closer and closer. For what seemed like an impossibly long time, the land appeared to remain a thin green band. Then he could make out the beach, then groups of trees and to their north mounds that rose high above the beach. But there were no native people in sight. The two Caravelas arrived at a point to drop anchor first, and boats were lowered over the sides. Once filled with soldiers they started to row for the shore. Then the Santa Rosa’s anchors were dropped  and soon they were held in place. Boats were lowered over the side and the captain and priest, Cristobal, climbed down into one.

Standing at the rail, Tomas watched the boats fight the low waves along the shoreline, then get pulled up onto the white sand. Men gathered in groups, then lined up along the beach, keeping their eyes on the trees.

‘Now. Now, Tomas, slip over the side and swim to shore’ Tomas repeated to himself, but he stood frozen at the railing, watching the scene unfolding on the beach. The priest walked from the group toward the woods and it was obvious he was addressing the woods, then he bowed his head for a minute. When his head raised he looked around at the captain and nodded his head. A few soldiers went in front with crossbows, but most were armed with swords or lances, and stood at the ready behind the front line.

Tomas, like all the other crew and soldiers still aboard the Santa Rosa, watched from the deck, waiting to see what would take place. For the longest time, nothing seemed to be happening, but suddenly a couple of crewman ran to the bow of the ship, then someone yelled out.

“Fire…fire…the Santiago is on fire.”

Tomas followed some men toward the bow when an explosion occurred. It seemed to shake the whole world. A fireball rose from the deck of the Santiago, the main mast pitching over and into the sea. Another explosing and the hull began to split apart.

Tomas saw two canoes row out to sea away from the Santiago and he knew it was some of the native people come to extact their revenge. He looked over at the San Miguel seeing smoke billow from its deck, then flames rise from it. A couple of small explosions, one on the deck blasting crew and soldiers over the side, then fire seemed to ravage the ship. Tomas walked backwards, afraid of what he saw, as the crew and soldiers stood watching the two smaller ships burn. The Santiago began to sink and there were cries from the crew as they watched in horror. Tomas stumbled back into the railing as far from the others as he could get. He felt sick, and he turned to purge his stomach of its contents.

He froze for six natives in two canoes were heading their way. They were paddling quietly, coming from the open sea. Tomas thought it madness, all this destruction and warring, but he saw the desperation of a people fighting for their lives. He moved to one of the rope ladders and released it, letting it unroll down the side of the ship. The man in the front of the nearest canoe looked up, surprised at what he had done. He looked at the expressions of the three men in the first canoe and saw they were young, about his own age. He nodded his head and stepped back. Suddenly he needed to get off the ship, he swung around and ran across the deck to the other side, and despite his fears, didn’t stop at the rail. Instead he dove over the side, and hit the warm turquoise waters with a splash. He would never know how that gave cover to the natives climbing on board, for everyone looked to where he dove, then watched as he swam toward shore.

He swam as hard and fast as he could, arms and legs burning with his exertions. There were more explosions and cries of men echoing over the water. When he finally had to rest, he treaded water slowly, enough to keep his head up and looked back at the Santa Rosa. Smoke rose from the deck as men were jumping overboard. Then flames appeared and he knew they were coming out of the openings in the deck where steps led down, the one in the middle to the space where gun powder was stored for the cannons. It was just a few seconds later and an explosion tore at the center of the ship, sending splintered wood flying in the air. It rained down in the water, some dangerously close to Tomas. He began to backpaddle while watching the ship explode again, then become consumed in flames.

The ship conintued to burn, and he watched, for he knew it was his last connection to his home. As the Santa Rosa began to lean to one side while sinking, he realized his fate. It would be a permanent severing, one he could never repair. He was committed to an existence in this new world.

He wondered if the native people were able to escape, for they were the ones he felt a connection, not the crew he had been with for the last six weeks. The ship seemed to right itself as the hull began to go under. Within a few minutes the Santa Rosa was gone, sunk to a watery grave along side the San Miguel and Santiago. He was about to roll over and resume swimming when the smoke cleared revealing the two canoes heading out away from the place the Santa Rosa had been. He felt relief at seeing them, then rolled over and began to swim.

He came ashore south of the landing party and saw a few men were still engaging the native people, but they were far outnumbered. It was only a matter of time. As he stumbled up the beach, he looked for the priest, Cristobal. Among the bodies on the beach, he finally saw the red robe lying near the center of the carnage, a spear sticking straight up from the body. The priest had come to sow carnage, not some message of love and mercy, and Tomas felt it had played out as justly as it could. He ran to the woods and underbrush and headed into the interior of this strange land.

Moving at near a run, Tomas made his way inland, constantly surprised at the inhospitable nature of the terrain. After a short distance, he came to a bay and made his way around it, running along the wet sand that gave better footing. On the opposite side of the bay, he moved away from the beach and back into the woods. The land was flat with sparse tree cover and bodies of water of various sizes. When so fatigued he had to stop, there was a realization he had no idea where he was going, or what the land was like in front of him. Hands on knees and sweat pouring off his face, he tried to gather his thoughts, come up with some plan as to what he was going to do. Nothing. What he faced was too much. Every aspect of his life was turned upside down. He looked around at the environment he found himself, one so different from anything he had been in before. He had seen no wild game. Just birds and insects, the latter swarming in his face and relentlessly biting him anywhere skin was exposed. Standing straight, he slipped his hands into the pockets of the robe wondering if he had anything of value. His right hand slipped around the handle of the knife he had taken from the priest and he smiled at his good fortune, for it could just as easily be on the bottom of the sea instead of his pocket.

Walking slowly through the terrain, eyes open to any small game he might be able to capture, he made his way east, then northeast, skirting a swamp with towering cypress. The sun was low in the western sky making shadows long across the ground. He was starving and so tired he had to stop. There was a time he thought he heard the growl of some animal in the undergrowth and for a long time after felt as if he were the one being stalked. Now he worried about where to settle down for the night, afraid to sleep on the ground. He keep moving until he came to an ancient live oak, its limbs stretching out in all directions. Looking up, he saw the massiveness of the canopy and wondered if it would be safe for the night. Daylight was beginning to disappear. He had to find a place, and looking up at the thick limbs fanning out from the trunk, he considered it as good a place as any.

Tomas climbed up as far as he dared, finding a place where three limbs spread out creating a space large enough for him to nestle down into for the night. He let his legs hang down, one on each side of one limb, and lay back. His stomach growled and he felt himself shivering despite the heat. He knew it was fear that caused it, and wondered if he would be able to sleep, but once settled down, despite his fears and anxieties, sleep quickly overtook him.

The singing and cawing of birds woke Tomas and he nearly fell when he stretched, forgetting momentarily where he lay. He looked around while scratching at new itches, new bites that occurred during the night. He sat up and started to climb down when he noticed it, a nest just above his head. His stomach growled when he thought of eggs, and he eased up the limb until he could look into the nest. Two small eggs lay in it and he felt disappointment at the tiny size of each. They were so small he started to leave them, but his stomach growled again. It wasn’t much but it was something. He gently lifted each out and put them in his left pocket and climbed back down to the fork.

Holding one of the eggs firmly, he tapped it with the point of the knife blade until there was a tiny hole in it, and he sucked out the contents. He dropped the empty shell and did the same to the other egg. It wasn’t near enough to stop the pains of hunger.

Back on the ground, he headed northeast, wondering when he would finally stop. When he came to a creek, the waters running crystal clear, he stooped on the bank and cupped water with his hand, drinking his fill. He was about to reach into the waters one more time just to wash his hands and feel the cool soothing water run through his fingers, when he noticed a log floating toward him. Then he saw another, and looking around he saw four more. Then he saw the eyes in the one closest. He stumbled back and moved away from the bank realizing it was alligators. The one that had been the closest submerged out of sight, barely disturbing the surface of the water.

Tomas watched the others, his heart pounding at what could have happened. He saw himself grabbed by the powerful jaws and dragged under. There was movement on the water’s surface, and he realized it was a snake, and he wondered if it too were dangerous. Was it poisonous? To be bit by a poisonous snake would surely lead to death, he thought as he watched it swim toward the very place he had been. Suddenly jaws rose up from below, closed on the snake, and sank back down into the water.

“What is this place?” Tomas uttered aloud.

Tomas kept walking for three days, taking eggs from nest and futilily chasing a rabbit and a snake one morning. He kept changing his course, turning to the north, then back to the west, thinking he should get back to the beach. Despite his efforts, he was not finding nearly enough food to satisfy his hunger. To make things worse, he felt feverish, his face sweating profusely, more than during the prior days. He stumbled through the woods and undergrowth while struggling to focus. As his fever grew worse, he became careless and disoriented. As the day drew to a close, the sun dropped below the horizon and the last light dimming fast, he stumbled to a tree and collapsed at its base, unconcerned about his safety.

There was the smell of smoke, then that of meat cooking. Something touched his face, and Tomas slapped out trying to push it away, waking enough to think he was in danger. He pushed against the trunk of the tree trying to get away and opened his eyes to see one of the native men squating in front of him holding a cloth. Tomas froze, wondering why he wasn’t dead. He looked down at his left leg and saw the pant leg had been cut off just above the knee and his calf bandaged with a remnant of it. The cloth in the man’s hand was the rest of the pant leg. Looking to his right, out in a small clearing burned a fire, and propped over it a rabbit. It was browning from the heat of the fire and his mouth watered and stomach growled.

“Adakah anda mushu?” asked the man.

“What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Saya Tidak akan menyakiti anda.”

“I don’t understand…I…” Tomas stammered as he looked at the man. Then he realized he had seen him before. He was one of the men in the canoe, the one who had sat in the middle.

“Anda perlu makan,” said the man and he moved to the fire and lifted the stick holding the rabbit and brought it to Tomas. “Makan.”

Tomas was so hungry he couldn’t refuse the offered food, and he pulled out his knife to cut it. The man flinched, but didn’t pull away, and Tomas knew there was a moment the man wondered about his intention. He sliced through the hip and brought the still hot meat to his mouth, moaning as he chewed. The man smiled and he smiled back, nodding his head.

Bones of the rabbit lay in a small pile and the fire burned low, smoking slightly, and Tomas realized the bugs were not tormenting him as before. The man sat on the ground a few feet away with dark brown eyes staring at him. He wondered what the man thought of him, someone who had betrayed his own to help them. If he only knew how his own had betrayed him.

The man held out a leather pouch and Tomas realized it held water, and the coolness of it was so refreshing, he drank his fill, nearly choking, for he was gulping it down so fast. The man smiled at him when he took the pouch back.

“So, what now?” Tomas asked, knowing the question was futile.

The man stood and went to the fire where he smoothered it with sand. He came back to Tomas and held out a hand, one he knew was meant to help him stand up.

“Ikut saya.”

It was frustrating the inability to understand him, but Tomas took the offered hand and climbed to his feet. The man pointed to the west and motioned him to follow.

They moved through the woods at a leisurely pace, and Tomas wondered where the man was taking him, and knew it could not be back at his village. Surely the others of his tribe would kill him. Then he wondered if that was the reason the man helped him. To save him from dying in the woods, so they could exact their own punishing death for what his people had done. The stories told by the crew came to him, how the native people tortured a man, details so gruesome he felt his fears resurface and was tempted to make a run for it, knowing he would not get far. He had cut cut one leg at some point the day before and it caused him enough pain to slow him. The man had cleaned and bandaged it, but it was still sore. The fact the man had taken care of the wound then fed him, made him doubt there could be ulterior motive to his kindness.

Just as he began to grow hungry again the man guided him to sit next to a tree and moved off into the woods. A few minutes later he returned with another rabbit, and Tomas wondered how he did it, so easily finding them when he had only seen one that was beyond his reach. With a fire built, the rabbit cooked, they sat next to each other and ate.

“What is your name?” Tomas asked without thinking, then he saw the confused look. “Sorry, I forgot.”

He looked at the man, realizing he wasn’t much older than himself, with long black hair and dark brown eyes that concealed much about their stare. Any other time, he would think more of the fact he found him attractive. It made him look down, afriad his expression would reveal his thoughts.

How long they would be together Tomas didn’t know, but he wanted to improve their ability to communicate. He needed it, for he realized how lonely he was becoming. A loneliness that had existed since the day he fled his village. He got the man’s attention and pointed to his own chest.

“Tomas.”

The man looked at him with a curious expression.

“I’m Tomas. Tomas.”

“Tamas,” the man repeated.

“Tomas.”

“Tomas.”

“Yes! That’s right,” Tomas exclaimed and it was obvious the man understand his pleasure at some level.

“Xia,” the man said, pointing at his own chest. Then he pointed at Tomas. “Tomas.”

Tomas nodded his head, then pointed at his own chest. “Tomas.” He pointed at Xia’s chest. “Xia.”

Tomas followed Xia across the land, who seemed to follow paths he couldn’t see. They stopped for lunch near a lake, then continued west. Near the end of the day, the sun just above the trees, they came to a small structure with a thatch roof. It stood alone among a group of trees, and appeared to have been unoccupied for some time. Xia moved around it with a knowledge that led Tomas to believe it a place used by his tribe. Maybe it was for hunting expeditions or just an outpost for those doing surveys for enemy.

Xia built a fire, then wandered off into the woods, while Tomas went to a stream that ran behind it to bathe and clean up his leg. He tugged off his shirt and pants, then after looking around to make sure Xia was nowhere around, the undergarments too. He washed the clothes and hung them over limbs, then eased out into the shallow stream and bathed as best he could. He sat on the sandy bottom and using his hands, cupped water over his head and upper body. The water felt refreshing as it washed sweat and grime from his skin.

Once he felt cleaner, he lay back and let the water run around his body, his face, chest, stomach and cock all above the surface. He closed his eyes, feeling the fatigue of the last days seep away, along with some of the fear. How long he lay in the stream, he didn’t know, but when he opened his eyes, he knew he was being watched. Sitting up, he saw Xia standing on the bank staring at him.

Tomas saw the look, one of longing, and he wondered if Xia could be like him. Could men in other cultures suffer the way he did, with longings that were considered so bad the Inquistion would burn a men to death. How would they view it to find two men in a carnal way? Xia turned and walked away and he watched him until out of sight before climbing out of the stream. His clothes were still dripping wet and he slipped on the undergarments and carried the rest to their campsite to hang out to dry.

The fire was stroked up, flames rising up hot, lapping at the two fish positioned over it. Tomas wondered how Xia caught them but didn’t try to ask with the language barrier that existed between them. Xia came closer and sat near the fire. He pointed at the fish.

“Ikan.”

“Ikan? Ikan,” Tomas repeated pointing at the fish, and Xia nodded. “Ikan…fish.”

“Fish?”

“Fish.”

So it began, the slow teaching of the other’s language. They began with objects, things that allowed them to point at something, such as fire, tree, ground and moon, as it rose above the trees.

Xia unrolled some grass mats in the small hut and they settled down for the night, the fire down to glowing embers with smoke rising up and filling the heavily humid air. It was the first good night’s sleep for Tomas in days and he didn’t wake until early the next morning to sun light hitting him in the face. Looking out, he saw the fire was stroked up with fresh wood and Xia was nowhere in sight.

It was already hot, and Tomas didn’t bother to dress, remaining in just his undergarments as he went out. Standing in the clearing, looking around for any sign of Xia, he saw the ruggedness of the landscape and also its beauty. There was bird song and chirp or buzz of insects and up in the sky, a hawk floating on the wind. Circling the hut, he made his way to the small stream. Just before stepping out into the open along its banks he froze. Sitting in the middle of it was Xia, naked, facing his direction. With knees up and spread, Tomas could see the base of his cock, the head below the surface of the water. He saw again the masculine body, stockier and more muscular than his own. He stared at the smooth tanned skin and the dark hair under each arm, and the way muscles flexed with every move. Xia had his hair untied, and it hung over the shoulders, thick and black and Tomas wondered what it would feel like to graze across his skin, as he imagined lying beneath him.

Xia suddenly looked up and saw Tomas and he froze. They stared at each other far too long, both growing embarrassed by it, and with face hot and turning red, Tomas stepped back then turned, heading back to the hut.

After a breakfast of fish, Tomas dressed and they continued on their trek. As the sun began to descend in the western sky, Tomas realized they were heading northwest, moving toward the coast and north of the landing site. They would hike for four days, making their way across streams and rivers, circling lakes, then on the morning of the fourth day, coming to a bay, the surface small waves that lapped at the eastern shore. Moving north they came to the place a small river flowed into the bay, its mouth a marshland of grasses. Xia led Tomas out into the bay below the marsh, and when the waters were too deep to wade, they began to swim. Xia kept a slow pace, enabling Tomas to stay astride of him, as they made their way to the other side and back to shore.

Tomas felt out of breath, but not like he would have been days before after his swim from the Santa Rosa to the shore. He felt some of his old strength, a stamina like he had back home. With hands on hips, he looked up at the cloudy sky and the birds that flew in thick formations, and laughed.

Xia looked at him curious as to what was humorous, and Tomas smiled at him, wondering if the explorers had it all wrong. The land was a paradise, but not in the way they thought of it with their imaginings of gold and fountains of youth.

“Should we keep going?” asked Tomas, and he saw the questioning expression.

“Go?”

Xia smiled. “Pergi…go?”

“Pergi?”

Xia used two fingers to indicated walking, moving them over the palm of his other hand. “Pergi.”

“Pergi. Go.”

“Go.”

Another word, one more connection between them.

Tomas walked along side of Xia as they moved up the beach from the bay, and crossed the sandy terrain to the other side where the open waters of the sea spread out before them. For a long way out the waters were turquoise with the bottom visible, until finally the waters turned a deep blue concealing its depths. Tomas looked south, wondering how far north of the landing site he now found himself, then he looked north, forgetting the horrors of their arrival, instead marveling at the white sands that seemed to stretch for an enternity.

Xia began to strip and Tomas watched, frozen in place looking at the reveal of the familiar body that toyed with his desires and lusts. Xia looked at him questioningly, then pointed toward the water, and Tomas knew he meant for them to swim out in it. He looked out over the waters, wondering if it was really safe. A dark cloud came into view and it moved through the waters at an alarming rate. Then a fish jumped, then another, and soon more than could be counted leapt in the air. A school of fish.

Tomas watched amazed at the size of the school for it stretched for as long as the eye could see in both directions. Then he saw a dorsal fin, then three more, and the exhale of air from each. One jumped into the air, playful, twisting and turning, creating an enormous splash. Dolphin.

“Jiwa Kembali memerintah perairan,” said Xia.

Tomas didn’t understand, but he sensed what Xia was trying to say as he watched the dolphin forlick in the shallow waters. A touch to his shoulder and he saw Xia was naked, pointing toward the waters.

“Yes, let’s swim with them,” Tomas uttered in a low voice as he began to strip.

Tomas saw Xia watching him as he took off his clothes and lay them on the sand. Xia had already seen him naked, but he still felt anxious about this reveal, worrying about responding in a manner that he couldn’t conceal. Xia headed toward the water as he tossed down his undergarments and followed, wading out into waters far warmer than he remembered. He had been terrified, scared of what was to come, when he dove into the waters during their landing. But now, feeling more relaxed, he was allowed to sense their warmth and how the salty water caressed his skin. When they were chest deep, the waters still so clear he could easily see the bottom, Xia dove beneath the surface and began to swim. He dove behind them and felt like he was part of a group too, like the school of fish or the pod of dolphin, he and Xia were a group.

When he surfaced, Xia was still below the surface and he searched for him, looking out, then to the north and south. About fifteen feet away, he saw Xia coming toward him, and on either side two dolphin swimming along with him. Xia surfaced, smiling broadly, as the dolphin circled them.

Back on the beach, sitting naked on the sands, letting the wind dry their skin, they watched the sun move closer to the horizon. Xia leaned back resting on elbows, his body stretched out fully exposed. Tomas cut his eyes to look at it, feeling his loneliness and longings tug at him. He felt his heart rate increase and a temptation to reach out and touch Xia so great he grew afraid. Then he saw Xia was looking at him.

“Berenany di darat.”

“I don’t understand, but…I wish you could know how much I am drawn to you,” said Tomas, finally turning away as tears trickled down his cheeks.

He sensed movement, then hands on his shoulders.

“Bolehkah saya?”

“Xia…yes,” Tomas replied, not knowing what was asked, but hoped his response was clear.

Lips touched his shoulder, then moved the side of his neck. He angled his head away, giving Xia permission to keep going. The hands moved, one down his back, the other around to his chest. Xia moved up, sitting right against his back. He felt the warm body against his own as hands moved over his chest, stomach, until finally, one hand touched him. Toyed with his growing erection. Fingers enclosed around the thickening shaft and slowly stroked it.

“Yes,” Tomas exclaimed.

Xia guided him to lay back while moving around and between his legs. Tomas watched as Xia took his cock and licked it. The tongue moved over the loose sac and up the hard shaft until toying with the head. He shuddered with the manipulation, then moaned as he watched his cock disappear through the lips. Xia took him, slid lips down nearly to the base of his cock, then dragged them upward. Over and over until he couldn’t hold back, and Tomas jerked and shuddered with his release, filling Xia’s mouth.

When Xia slipped off his cock, he was still hard. Xia moved to his hands and knees and looked over his left shoulder at Tomas.

“Letakkan dalam saya.”

Tomas didn’t understand the words, but he knew their meaning. He moved to his knees up behind Xia and rubbed his wet slick cock along the spread ass. He pressed against the hole, rubbed it in circular motions and felt Xia push back. He pushed again and watched his cock penetrate Xia. He felt it, the tight squeeze, as he eased the head into him, then inch after inch of the shaft. About half way in, he couldn’t hold back and began to move, the primitive push of his hips, fucking his cock within Xia’s tight hole. He pushed deeper and deeper, feeling this connection between them. A hand touched his thigh, the fingers digging into the flexing muscle. It provoked him to move faster, to drive into Xia’s depths with every inch of his cock. He held Xia by the waist, the first time he really touched him, and he dug his fingers into the firm flesh. Holding fast, he pushed and tugged through the tight opening.

“Tomas,” Xia uttered as he lowered his head and pushed back, bringing their bodies together with a smack.

“Xia…take me,” Tomas uttered, as he held tightly to him and fucked faster, harder, until his cock swelled thicker. He shuddered, then jerked with release as he filled Xia with his load.

When he pulled free, his cock still half hard, he guided Xia to roll over and lay on his back. He moved over him, kissing the stomach, chest, neck, then lips, as he moved against him. He sat up and rubbed his ass back and forth over the hard cock, feeling the wet slickness of it. He rose up on knees and held Xia up while moving back down. He felt the thick head press against his opening, then painfully stretching him open. He shuddered as he moved down, sinking Xia’s cock deeper and deeper.

“Oh…Xia…” Tomas uttered, as he moved up and down slowly.

Tomas stared into Xia’s eyes, seeing the need, the want, and he began to move faster, until fucking himself on the thick cock buried in his hole. He felt hands on his thighs, then fingers digging into his flexing muscles. His own cock flopped heavily between his thighs, smacking against Xia’s stomach, growing erect again.

Xia began to push upward, and Tomas felt it against his ass as he moved down. It aroused him, to feel Xia’s response, this need to increase their interaction. Anything to increase the connection between them. Suddenly Xia sat up, bearhugged him and he felt a nip at the base of his neck. He moved upward, his cock dragging up the smooth chest and he shuddered from the feel of it. Driving him to move faster, he fucked himself on Xia until his own cock left slick trails on the smooth chest.

Xia cried out and shuddered with his own release. Tomas moved all the way down on the spurting cock and he leaned back, taking his cock in hand. A few strokes and cum dribbled out and trickled down the head as he shiverd with his third orgasm.

They went back into the water and cleaned up, then frolicked until exhausted. Tomas followed Xia out and was surprised to see him pick up his clothes, and instead of putting them on, continued walking up the beach heading to the north. He followed, naked, the warmth of the winds coming off the waters a comfort. The sun was dropping below the horizon, and he wondered where they would camp for the night when he saw it. Another hut, this one tucked into a small stand of trees.

Xia disappeared as before, returning a short time later with fish for dinner. They put on the miminal clothing to cover themselves, leaving their legs and upper bodies bare. Sitting at the fire, fish set over it, they smiled knowingly at one another, kissed at times, making Tomas blush. After their meal, they unrolled grass mats from the hut and lay next to each other and began to teach the other new words, words that were intimiate and gave them the communication to talk of sex and their bodies. They touched each other, mouthing the words, then they would kiss and giggle and pick another part of themselves to give the other’s language to.

With the sky brilliant with stars and a cresent moon rising over the trees to the east, they made love again. This time it was slow, gentle, with Xia holding Tomas’ legs to his smooth chest while pushing into his depths. Once spent, their bodies exhausted, they lay in each other’s arms and drifted off to sleep.

The days passed with Tomas not knowing how many, nor caring. There was no need to track them. No church bells that signaled some notion of time, or its weekly arrangement, with its religious connotations and dogma every seven days. It didn’t matter, for he lived for the moment, within each day and the adventures it brought. They hiked up the beach, explored shallow pools, inlets, and bays that pushed into the land in all manner of configurations. They made treks inland, hunting and tracking animals or Xia simply showing Tomas some knew feature of the landscape. Xia prepared foods unfamiliar, but each gave Tomas something new to savor. And each day they continued to learn the other’s language, opening up communication between them beyond the physical. But the physical was not cast aside, for they continued to explore the other, to touch with hands and lips, to arouse the other until they were intertwined within their lusts.

Tomas’ clothes became ragged and Xia disappeared for over a half day, returning with garments like his own. His body filled out, grew more muscular, and his long hair became streaked with blonde. Xia called it ‘sinar matahari’, and he knew it had something to do with the sun.

One morning, frolicking in the water, swimming and toying with each other, they did not see the two men approach from the south until nearby. It was obvious Xia recognized them, and he told Tomas to follow as he waded out to meet them. Tomas worried about being naked, but he followed until they stood facing the two men. They spoke to Xia and Tomas only caught a few words, but knew it was about him. Xia looked worried but when he turned to Tomas he tried to smile.

“You be good. We go with men.”

With the two men watching, they dressed, smothered the burning embers with sand, and rolled up the grass mats. It was obvious to Tomas, Xia did not expect to return for some time.

It took two days of walking along the coast to get to the place they turned inland. Tomas wasn’t sure, but he thought the place of his countrymen’s landing and his swimming ashore was just to the south. In the woods, they followed narrow paths that led further inland until they came to a swamp. Crypress towered over the calm shallow waters with only an occasional disturbance from a fish or some other creature. The men led Xia and him along a narrow spit of land through the swamp until the land widened, becoming a large area with small clearings scattered around, each with huts around their perimeter. There was a small garden growing a few vegetables, some Tomas had never seen before, and hanging from lines, skins from various animals were drying. Tomas could smell smoke, and mixed with it, the smell of fish and meat.

He followed Xia and the men to a hut in the middle of the site where three elderly men and two elderly women were sitting. One of the men stopped and turned to Tomas, indicating he too was to stop. Xia and the others went up to the elders and they began to talk. Tomas saw the expressions, of worry, agitation and concern. He saw Xia drop his head, shaking it. Looking around, Tomas realized he realized everyone knew what was going on, and it involved him. He saw the looks. Some scared. Some angry. He thought back to the day of the landing, and the soldiers set to kill these people and how the priest was complicent in it.

Three men approached the elders and Xia, and Tomas recognized two of them as being the men that had been in the canoe with Xia. He saw them enter the circle of men and women, standing next to Xia and the conversation seemed to quieten. One of the men, the one that had been in front of the canoe, looked back at Tomas, then turned to the elders.

It seemed an eternity to Tomas. He knew his fate was in their hands and he began to resolve himself to it. Then laughter came from the group, and it seemed to move through the people lessening the tension. One of the elders stepped away from the group, and the people moved closer. He spoke to them in a calm voice that carried around the village. Tomas recognized words, those for ship, beach, and his name. Xia looked his way and smiled.

It was dark in the village and Tomas sat in the hut with Xia and the two others that had been in the canoe with him. They talked so fast, so animatedly, he couldn’t begin to keep up, but he knew their conversation went from him pushing the ladder over the side to Xia finding him wandering around lost. Then the men left them alone and Xia moved next to him, took his hand and moved it to his chest. Tomas felt the warmth of the skin. Xia leaned toward him and he closed his eyes and felt the warmth of lips against his own. Xia guided him to his back and moved on over him.

Tomas felt the weight of him, the life in the body that made it warm and gave it movement, intent, a desire to touch, to stroke, and kiss. To pull and tug at his garments until naked. The exposure aroused him further and he pushed upward, feeling his trapped cock flex with his arousal. Lips touched his neck, tugged at his ear, then grazed it as they moved.

“Tomas, stay for me.”

Tomas clung to Xia, moving against the muscular body.

“Yes, I’ll stay with you,” Tomas whispered.

Xia rose on knees and pulled his clothes off. Freed, his cock angled out erect. Tomas took it in hand and gently ran his fingers down its rock hard length. He felt the shape of it, the smoothness of the skin stretched tight, and the spongy head that caused Xia to moan when he toyed with it.

Xia lifted Tomas’ legs, held them to his chest and moved closer. Tomas felt the touch, then the press against his tightness. He wanted this penetration. Needed it more than ever before. He pushed against the cock and felt it breach his tightness and penetrate him once again. He cried out and pushed to take more of it.

Then Xia was over him, thrusting into his depths. The penetration seemed deeper, giving him a sense of completeness never felt before. Every thrust seemed to bore into the center of his being, and he kissed and nipped at Xia’s skin, along the shoulders, the neck, an ear, and the lips. They undulated against each other, and Tomas felt his own erection rub against the flexing stomach. The hut grew hot, the air steaming. It made Tomas feel feverish, his skin wet with desire and need and exertion. Xia moved slickly over him, then with arms around his body, rolled them over until Tomas was on top.

Tomas sat up and moved on Xia’s cock. He lifted himself with straining legs then dropped down on it, taking every inch. He moved mindlessly, with an animalism that thought of nothing else. A hand grasped his own cock, stroked it roughly and he shuddered with the manipulation. He cried out, and moved faster as sweat ran down his torso.

Then he came.

His cock flexed with each ejaculation and he shuddered with the manipulation of the hand continuing to stroke him. The stimulation was too great and he jerked and thrust with his hips as cum rained down on Xia.

When Tomas leaned forward, heaving for breath, Xia held him and pumped hips upward, hard and fast, until he too shuddered with release.

They lay in the hut, naked, skin still wet from the heat and their exertions, as Xia twirled fingers in Tomas’ hair.  It was quiet outside, the village asleep, and the only light was from the moon that hovered high in the sky.

“We stay here,” Xia whispered.

Tomas knew what he meant. Xia had kept him away for fear of what the elders would decide of his fate, but now that he had been accepted, there was no reason to stay away. It was too much to consider. The events that led to this place. The Inquisition, the fleeing alone, betrayed by his first love. The journey across the vast ocean, and the horror of the landing. He tried to find a place to store these memories where they could rest in peace. He kissed the smooth chest, tasting the saltiness of the skin and smiled at where it all had led him. Looking out into the village, he wondered if it was his birthday, not knowing the date in any of its man-made aspects. He was nineteen, or soon to be, but it didn’t seem to matter. Not in this place. He snuggled closer to Xia and felt an arm pull him tight, embracing him.

Tomas then drifted off to sleep, content for the first time in every way. He dreamed of swimming in the sea, of wandering a wild land, and of Xia. He dreamed of his new reality, this new beginning.