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The Messiah comes not only as the Redeemer, he comes as the vanquisher of the Antichrist. Only that historian will have the gift of fanning the spark of hope in the past who is firmly convinced that even the dead will not be safe from the enemy if he wins. And this enemy has not ceased to be victorious.
Walter Benjamin
The world is a vicious, brutal place. We think we’re civilized. In truth, it’s a cruel world and people are ruthless. They act nice to your face, but underneath they’re out to kill you. You have to know how to defend yourself. People will be mean and nasty and try to hurt you just for sport. Lions in the jungle only kill for food, but humans kill for fun. Even your friends are out to get you: they want your job, they want your house, they want your money, they want your wife, they even want your dog. Those are your friends; your enemies are even worse!
Donald Trump
Nicān mihtoa in tlahtlaquetzalli in quēnin Juan quihuāltoca in Juan, onēhuah īnāhuac in Puebla īhuān ōmpa huih Tlacetilīlli Tlahtohcāyōtl Ixachitlān, ce nehnemiliztli in mani cenzontli īpan yēpōhualli on caxtōlli omēyi netlalōlli caxtiltēcatl īhuān zan cuēcuēl achīc.
Here is the tale of how Juan pursued Juan from the vicinity of Puebla to the United States border, a journey lasting 475 Spanish leagues and some number of years.
1.
The first name put forward is that of capitán Diego de Villegas, a man of proven experience in such compromising situations, but Captain Villegas is dead. Someone suggests a certain Suárez from Plasencia, known for his more than fifteen exemplary expeditions, but it turns out Suárez is dead, too. No one mentions Nicolás de Obregón, given that P’urhepecha savages shot him through with arrows, nor Antonio de Oña, who committed innumerable atrocities against the pagan Indians, to later be ordained as a priest to protect said pagans. A measure of enthusiasm momentarily surfaces around the name Pedro Gómez de Carandía, but someone remembers that Pedro finally received la encomienda the previous year, sheathing his sword and taking up the whip. Pablo de Herrera is imprisoned by order of the governor, the result of certain tithes never having been paid, or paid twice, depending on the version; Luis Velasco went mad dreaming about the gold of the Seven Cities. Without Indians to kill, Domingo de Cóbreces returned to his previous occupation as a pig-herd. Alonso Bernardo de Quirós did everything he could to obtain the viceroy’s favor on the battlefields of New Galicia, la Gran Chichimeca, and la Florida, and then turned up hanged in his own house, clutching a final letter addressed to the viceroy in his right hand. No one doubts either the perseverance or skill of Diego Ruiloba, but neither do they doubt the tepidness of his faith, reason enough to discard him from the command of this sensitive situation. To arrive at the right name, they’ll have to dig deep down in the pile of scrolls, grapple with an abundance of human weakness and failures, pass from captains to cavalry sergeants and from cavalry sergeants to simple soldiers of fortune; a path paved with men who were too old or who had returned to Castilla, mutilated men, rebellious men, men tried by the Holy Office of the Inquisition, men disfigured by syphilis, dead men. Until suddenly—perhaps to save himself the effort of dusting off more dockets and files—one of the clerks thinks to suggest the name of a certain Juan de Toñanes, former soldier of His Majesty the King, former treasure hunter, former almost everything. The clerk has never met him personally, but Juan de Toñanes is said to have evaded poverty by pursuing fugitive Indians escaped from the encomiendas of Puebla. A humble man, unworthy, perhaps, of the enterprise at hand, but with a reputation as a competent man and good Christian, endowed with an almost miraculous ability to always return with the Indian in question, shackled and in one piece. God strike me down, the clerk continues, if this occupation isn’t the selfsame enterprise Your Excellencies need someone for; a mission that, excepting of the obvious differences, consists precisely in locating a specific Indian and bringing him back, dead or alive. The clerk stops speaking, and the viceroy, who has also begun to lose his patience with the search, orders the clerk to review his papers for news of this Juan de Toñanes person. He finds nothing more than a thin, moldy file, from which they can deduce that, in his soldiering days, Juan was neither the best or the worst of the bunch; that he bled in many small skirmishes without distinguishing himself in any of them, neither for cowardice or bravery; that for years he sent letters to the viceroy requesting—unsuccessfully—to be granted an encomienda; that later he begged—dripping in deference—for a sergeant’s appointment in the expedition from Coronado to la Quivira; that lastly, he had appealed—receiving no response—for a post in Castilla far below his merits. To all appearances, Juan de Toñanes was a common man, but of the most uncommon kind, given that in all these years he had managed not to defend heresies, engage in duels, take part in brawls or scandals, curse God or His Majesty the King, stain the reputations of maidens, or find himself deserving of prison or ignominy. Before the clerk had even finished reading the record of service in his hand, the viceroy had already decided to suspend the search and summon this Juan de Toñanes of unknown talent and skill, but of whom, like any Spanish soldier, a certain facility with the sword and at least a moderate taste for adventure could be expected.
