The Other Time

  “How do you know we will not seize the ship and the gold you give us to trade with?”

  Don grinned at him and laughed. “Because your shares of gold will remain here and, for the ten of you, it will be worth a great deal more than the amount you take with you. It would not pay you to attempt to rob us.” He paused, then added, “There is one other aspect of the voyage to Cuba.”

  “Yes?”

  “When you arrive, you will spread the message of the great wealth available here. Start the rumor among craftsmen that there are many positions for their trade, with the highest pay anywhere in the world. We welcome colonists, so long as they have some trade, some skill. This recruiting is not for gentlemen, judges, lawyers, or priests, but for honest, working men.”

  “I see.” Bernal Diaz was obviously intrigued at the idea, and then he proved that Don’s suspicions had been correct. He said slowly, “When you took the paroles of the army, you promised that when the war was over, they could return to their own lands, complete with the gold you also promised. This truly will happen?”

  “Of course!”

  “Then I make this suggestion, Don Fielding. Do not send those who wish to go back to Cuba. Send them back to Europe, laden with their riches. And let them spread the word that you desire craftsmen, alchemists, watchmakers, metalworkers, and all the rest. Some of our army came from countries other than Spain. In fact, almost every country in Europe is represented. Your colonists, as you call them, would come from everywhere—those who were adventurous—and for your purposes, if I interpret them correctly, you wish adventurous, curious, inventive minds.”

  “I see you are with us,” Don told him. “If you remain, possibly you can conduct another mission for us on the west coast. There is another great civilization to the south, the Incas, even richer than Mexico. Soon we must contact them. They too must prepare against that son-of-a-bitch, Pizarro. We’ll send them the wheel, the use of iron, gunpowder, and all the rest. We here in Mexico cannot afford to allow the European governments a foothold in South America any more than in North.”

  He added in English, under his breath, “In another age we called it the Monroe Doctrine.”

  Aftermath

  The messenger came from the coast some six months later. He bore one of the old-time type messages with both hieroglyphics and paintings.

  Cuauhtemoc and Don Fielding stared down at it. They’d been expecting something like this, and preparing.

  Painted on the parchment were some fifty ships riding at anchor in Vera Cruz harbor. But these were not brigantines and caravels. Don recognized them. He had seen paintings and prints of the Spanish Armada. These were galleons, heavy transport vessels, the heaviest available in Europe at this time for the carrying of horses, heavy cannon, and military stores. In the background were troop transports. These ships were clearly not from Cuba, but a direct reply from Spain. The galleons were tall enough to have three decks of cannon.

  “They’ll wallow like pigs when they try to get away,” Don said.

  Cuauhtemoc frowned. “I do not think they came with the idea of going away. Look at these figures: many horses, crossbowmen, cannon—”

  “That’s why I had those two-stage rockets built,” Don said. “Even with the coarse black powder we’re producing, we can pound the bastards beyond cannon range from our rocket carts, and flaming oil payloads will put them into panic.”

  “By now, lord, their troops will be engaging ours.”

  “Several thousand of theirs against double that number of ours,” Don Fielding replied, “and we’ve got more Molotov Cocktails than they can handle.” He sighed and stood up. “Let the conches sound and the drums be played, Cuauhtemoc. Send messengers to muster the full host from all the Republic.”

  Cuauhtemoc faced his mentor. “This, then, is what you have said would be the moment of truth?”

  Don Fielding’s eyes were shining. “It is. With our own cavalry and rocket artillery, with half a million warriors, it should be a truth the Spaniards learn with bitterness.”