of men back to Spain with the treasure, and put his case for further reinforcements.
I had to follow these orders, and the thought of returning home to Isabella should have filled me with pleasure and relief, but I found that I could think only of Ignacia.
I had to see her again.
The thought of life without her was impossible.
Over the next few nights I began to plan how I might steal away and see her once more. If I was quick, I might be able to return before dawn, without anyone knowing of my departure.
Moving through the creeks and under the trees at nightfall, I knew that any time together would be desperately short, but to part from this land and never see Ignacia again was something I could not tolerate. Pedro checked the route ahead and I crawled through the undergrowth until, at last, we came to the small hut where we had known such happiness.
Ignacia emerged from the doorway, half in sleep and half in fear.
‘It is you.’
‘I had to see you.’
‘You are leaving.’
‘I have come to say farewell.’
‘This was how it had to be. There is too much gold. Too many soldiers.’
I told her that, although I had to obey my orders, nothing mattered more to me than that I should one day see her again.
‘I do not believe you. You will never return.’
‘You must believe me.’
‘No, no. Only remember me. It is not safe for you to stay.’ She turned towards the hut, and fetched a gourd filled with her best criollo cacao beans.
‘Take these, and think of me.’
I had nothing to give her in return, no token of my love.
It was as if I no longer knew who I was.
She looked at me sadly.
‘A princess was left to guard a secret treasure while her husband was away. Enemy soldiers came. They attacked and tortured her, but she did not say where the treasure lay.’
‘This will not happen to you …’
‘Then the soldiers killed her …’
‘No.’
‘Our people say that the cacao plant grew from her blood in the earth.’
She handed me the gourd in which the beans were held.
‘The treasure of the fruit is in the seeds; as bitter as the sufferings of love, as strong as virtue, as red as blood.’
Now she handed me the silver molinillo.
‘Go safely.’
‘I will return.’
‘The city will be destroyed. There will be nothing left.’
‘What will you do?’
‘If I have nothing then I will go to Chiapas. If you come back, you may find me there. I know the people.’
I looked into her eyes.
‘Wherever you are, I will find you.’
Ignacia took a gold bangle from her arm, and placed it round my wrist. It was as if she was stripping everything away from herself and giving it to me. ‘The world is larger than you think.’
‘But not large enough for the love we have.’
I had become so well versed in the practice of courtship that now, when I felt more than I had ever felt before, I could not describe my emotions. Everything that I wanted to say seemed as if it came from the Libro de Buen Amor.
‘You have so many words …’ she said.
‘And all are true. What can I say to make you believe me?’
‘That love never tires.’
She looked at me as if she truly believed that she would never see me again. Her voice was filled with the expectation of disappointment, now fulfilled.
‘I am no longer myself when I am with you,’ I said softly, ‘for you have changed me. I am only afraid that something might happen, some terrible disaster which might prevent us seeing each other again, and this I cannot bear …’
‘You must not be afraid of death. One day you will know that we only come to dream; we only come to sleep. That is one of our songs. It is not true, it is not true that we come to live on earth …’
Pedro barked, urging me to return to the boat, and I leaned forward to try and kiss Ignacia once more.
‘Wait …’ She broke off, and turned to fetch a small container from the hut.
‘Drink this when you begin your voyage home.’
‘What is it?’
‘My gift to you. Drink it if you truly think we love each other.’
‘Is it chocolatl?’
‘There are other spices. Drink it as you leave this country, and trust me to do the same.’
‘I will drink it now.’
‘No. It is better for our luck to drink it when we are apart. If you plan to return it will help you.’
‘I will return. I promise.’
‘You have sworn?’
‘I have sworn.’
‘Then let us trust each other. If you are alive then I am alive. Never cease in your search of me.’
We kissed, as if for the last time, as if I might have no other future beyond this moment and my life would be suspended until I saw her again.
‘Quien bien ama tarde olvida. He who loves truly forgets slowly.’
Ignacia held me to her.
‘Say it.’
‘Quien bien ama tarde olvida,’ I repeated.
She rested her hands on my shoulders, and looked into my eyes.
‘Love me. Never forget me. Never doubt me.’
‘I will always love you.’
‘Remember the love we have, however long we are apart.’
We kissed until we could not stand the sorrow any more.
I turned to walk away and then ran, with Pedro ahead, away from the glade to the waiting boat, remembering the first time that Ignacia had brought us here and all the joy that we had shared. I could not bear it. Desperate to escape the gulf between memory and reality, I rowed away from the plantation to join my colleagues, aching with pain and loss, knowing that all my former happiness was past, and that there was no means of avoiding the terrible anguish that now engulfed me.
The next day I was compelled to return to my role as a conquistador. No longer could I live in the world of dream. My responsibilities were clear. I must leave for the coast with sixty men and begin preparations for the return to Spain. Losing oneself in work and duty was, it seemed, the recommended means of forgetting the pains of love, and I set about my tasks like a man possessed, believing that the harder I laboured the more difficult it would be for bitter reality to reach me. At Vera Cruz we worked at a brisk pace, gaining anchors, sails, rigging, cables and tow with such zeal that within a few weeks we were able to set sail for home.
I tried to recall everything that had happened to me, and thought at first of the good fortune that I had enjoyed, my life having been spared by God’s grace. But no matter how extraordinary these travels may have been, I could not help but feel that my life would never again be so enthralling. The memory of Ignacia invaded my consciousness. Each night was filled with dreams and memories: the smell