The official accounting of the expedition put the cost at 8,751,125 maravedís, including the five ships, provisions, salaries paid out in advance, and fittings for the ships. Magellan’s pay came to 50,000 maravedís, and an additional 8,000 maravedís each month. By royal order, his monthly salary went directly to his wife, Beatriz.
Of the overall cost of the expedition, the king’s share came to 6,454,209 maravedís, much of it provided at high interest by Haro. Although royal documents place Haro’s contribution to the great enterprise at a modest 1,616,781 maravedís, that number is deceptive. Because his backers, the House of Fugger, also financed expeditions for Portugal, they probably concealed the full extent of their contribution by loaning additional money to the king.
In a final piece of official business, King Charles conferred the title of captain on both Magellan and Faleiro. Given the hazards of exploration, it was not unusual for expeditions in the Age of Discovery to have co-captains, but in this case, the arrangement unintentionally sowed the seeds of bitter disputes at sea. The powers granted to the pair were sweeping and unequivocal. “We order the master and boatswains, pilots, seamen, ship boys and pages, and any other persons and officials there may be in the said fleet, whatever persons who are and reside in the said lands and islands to be discovered . . . that they shall regard, accept, and consider you as our Captains of the said fleet. As such, they shall obey you and comply with your orders, under the penalty or penalties which, in our name, you shall impose.” As the language made clear, Magellan and Faleiro had absolute authority at sea. “We authorize you to execute sentence on their persons and goods. . . . If during the voyage of the said fleet there should arise any disputes and conflicts, at sea as well ashore, you shall deliver, determine and render justice with respect to them, summarily and without hesitation nor question of law.”
Magellan could only have marveled at the speed with which his plan to reach the Spice Islands had come together. King Charles risked Spain’s authority and reputation on the expedition, and the backers risked their capital, but Magellan would risk even more: his very life.
Chapter II The Man Without a Country
The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.
When word of Magellan’s spectacular commission reached Portugal, King Manuel reacted with alarm. The navigator had betrayed them all, and the members of the royal court were at a loss to understand why he had done so. The Portuguese court historian João de Barros, who had a passing acquaintance with Magellan, contended that a demonic force had possessed the navigator: “Since the devil always maneuvers so that the souls of men entertain evil deeds in whose undertaking he shall perish, he prepared this occasion for this Ferdinand Magellan to become estranged from his king and his kingdom, and to go astray.” No one in Portugal dared to admit the actual reason for Magellan’s behavior, that King Manuel had refused to back the navigator, humiliating him over and over again.
King Manuel did what he could to ruin Magellan’s name while, at the same time, trying to lure Magellan and Faleiro back to Portugal. He involved the Portuguese ambassador to King Charles’s court, Álvaro da Costa, who sought out the two exiles, promising that King Manuel would reconsider their request for an expedition. Da Costa was explicit about the dire consequences that would befall the two if they continued with their plan to sail for Spain; they would offend God, King Manuel, and relinquish all personal honor. Nor would matters end there; their families and heirs would suffer, and they would upset the delicate truce between Spain and Portugal at the very moment that King Manuel was planning to marry King Charles’s sister, Leonor.
Magellan refused to be swayed by the ambassador’s entreaties. He suspected that if he returned to Portugal he would be thrown into jail, tried for treason, and executed. Summoning all his meager diplomatic skills, Magellan replied that he had formally renounced his allegiance to King Manuel and given his loyalty to King Charles. He had no obligation to serve anyone else.
Frustrated by Magellan’s stubbornness, Álvaro da Costa appealed to King Charles himself. “Your Highness has plenty of vassals for discoveries without having to turn to those malcontents,” he argued. Uncertain about how to handle the matter, King Charles turned to his advisers for guidance, and they reiterated their position that the Spice Islands lay in the Spanish hemisphere, and Magellan’s expedition would not violate the Treaty of Tordesillas. King Charles followed the advice, and Magellan and Faleiro retained his backing in spite of pressure from Portugual.
Da Costa tried to put the best face on his failed attempt at diplomacy. He wrote to King Manuel that Magellan and Faleiro actually wished to return to Portugal, but King Charles prevented them from doing so. Da Costa probably believed his letter would remain confidential, but its contents became known, much to the outrage of King Charles. Ultimately, da Costa’s false claims hurt Portugal’s cause, and hardened King Charles’s determination to stand by his two embattled explorers. Portugal’s attempt to attack Magellan confirmed the belief of King Charles’s advisers that they had hit on a scheme of great strategic value. Yet relations between the two neighboring countries were more complicated than they appeared. Despite all the tension between them, King Manuel proceeded with his plans to marry Charles I’s sister, Leonor, according to a contract dated July 16, 1518. In so doing, rivals for the control of world trade would be yoked by marriage. Instead of ending the strife, the impending union pushed the conflict offshore. Rather than competing head to head on the Iberian peninsula, Spain and Portugal would grapple for control of trade routes around the world. They remained simultaneously rivals and allies, as affairs of state and matters of the heart alternated in rapid succession.
Four days after King Manuel completed his nuptial arrangements, the Spanish monarch instructed the Casa de Contratación to proceed with Magellan’s expedition to the Spice Islands without delay. Magellan and Faleiro were to receive money to begin their preparations, and they were ordered to Seville to outfit their ships.
City of Gold. City of Water. City of Faiths. “Quien no ha visto Sevilla,” runs a saying, “no ha visto maravilla.” “Who has not seen Seville, has not seen wonder.” For centuries, Seville, the preeminent city of Andalusia, has held Spain in its thrall. “I have placed Seville, or rather God has placed her, as the mother of all the cities and center of the glory and excellences of that territory,” wrote an early historian of the city, “for it is the most populous and greatest of her capitals.” Now, at the height of the Age of Discovery, Seville hovered at the apex of its prosperity and influence. The city straddling the Quadalquivir River was an amalgam of Roman, Visigoth, Muslim, Jewish, and Christian cultures. Its fame reverberated throughout the known world, borne on ships to destinations only vaguely located on maps. Throughout Europe, only Venice, Naples, and Paris were larger; Seville, with a population of about 100,000, was on a par with Genoa and Milan, each of them a thriving trading center; London, the largest city in Britain, claimed only half as many inhabitants as boisterous Seville.