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  As I thought about it more, the fact was clear: Francisco now held every card in the deck. Of course, the others would have their say, and of course, they would eventually intervene, but Francisco knew internally he would have the final word, and I guess that’s what made him smile the most. I saw the events unfold in his mind, as they most likely did in Soto. They’ve come to their realizations, and they were bright and prosperous, and now they could finally see the end game and what they risked their lives for. The fact was real and finally realized, and it stared them right in the face. They had captured their enemy king, and perhaps they were reviewing the moves that got them to their victory.

  Two other Pizarros came to the scene and joined the discussion. First were Hernando and Juan. Then Gonzalo joined soon after. They were relieved that the others shared the same look of bewilderment. They shook their heads. They still couldn’t believe it.

  My distance from them was too far. I tried to read their lips, but I couldn’t discern a word. Almagro and his son soon accompanied them, but by then they turned about and disappeared from my view. No doubt they talked about their next moves concerning Atahualpa, and no doubt they were thinking about the gold, but I’d like to imagine that they were still in a state of shock; that everything went right.

  But they were done marveling. They were done giving into astonishment. They switched their focus on their next move. The question at hand was what to do with the captured king, and that was the only question. What to do with Atahualpa? That mighty king, that sad, defeated king whom suddenly found himself all alone.

  It was a marveling, perplexing, all too wonderful of a problem to have.

  They conversed. Whispers turned to barks and the Pizarros and Almagros bickered back and forth towards each other with Soto in between.

  I set up the board and cracked my fingers, which were still smeared with blood. Inexplicably there was one piece missing, a black rook. I searched all over, but I somehow misplaced it. Begrudgingly, I set up the 31 pieces and waited for someone to take to the challenge. I waited for a long time, but there were no takers.

  From time to time I glanced back at the Pizarros and the Almagros. Their voices blared from the steps and above the square, and I could hear them barking at each other like hungry dogs.

  I finally approached Soto the next day and found him alone and asked him what was happening, but he said not a word and he stood in silence and watched the sun. I saw his mind calculate. It was feverish. I asked him more questions and he ignored every one.

  Then he pushed me aside and said, “Now’s not the time, Sardina.”

  Clearly more was on his mind.

  Later that day, I saw the frightened face of Atahualpa, his mouth was quivering and his eyes were lost. We waited for further orders. I saw Francisco stand with his brother Hernando, and walking towards them were Almagro and Soto, and we waited for them to decide.

  For two more days, Soto consulted with both the Pizarros and Almagros. The Pizarros were in the afternoon and the Almagros we dusk. He talked slowly, and I only heard murmurs, and at times, Soto knew I was eavesdropping on his conversations, so he covered his mouth with his hand and spoke underneath his breath. And for two days and two nights, I was left alone with my bastard thoughts that seemed imprisoned in my mind. My thoughts were common and like any other man’s.

  What was going to happen next? How much gold the Incas were hiding? What the hell was taking them so long? Why were they stalling?

  What was Soto saying to them?

  I could only imagine.”

  V

  “So do we kill him now?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Come now, he’s had his time.”

  “No! We keep him alive no matter what.”

  “That’s absurd. Don’t you see the risk?”

  “There’s virtually no risk.”

  “You’re deluded.”

  “You’re blind!”

  “Look. If he’s still alive, he could summon even more of his men. Any way you look at it, we’re still outnumbered.”

  “But don’t you see? We’re in control. We’re in total control. It’s absolutely vital we keep him alive.”

  “What do you think, Diego?”

  “I say we kill him. Or at least, torture him for a while.”

  “Torture, yes. But we can’t kill him.”

  “Why? You still haven’t given a clear answer.”

  “How are we going to find any gold, if he’s dead? Why are you willing to give it up so easily?”

  “Stop insulting me, and explain your goddamn thinking.”

  “With him alive, we have leverage. It’s a blessing that he’s still alive.”

  “A blessing? Preposterous! We haven’t even found anything yet! We haven’t found any gold!”

  “Precisely right. So why kill the only man who knows where it is? This gives us time. We have to use it wisely.”

  As Atahualpa looked on from his view, a tear ran down his eye and onto his shoulders. His chains were already making his wrist bleed.

  The lie was now a reality to him, and it didn’t matter if he were king or a pauper, for the fact was cold and fluid, and real and horrible. He was living the unreal.

  A Pachukuti. It was absolute and abundant.

  VI

  “Then the orders were finally given, and on the second day the men gave out a cheer, and when the bodies were cleaned away we searched the square blindly in our hopes we’d find gold.

  After an hour we found nothing and that restless feeling returned and with it came the doubt. That horrible doubt returned and the men kept swearing.

  “Where is it?!”

  “Where is it?!”

  “These goddamn liars!”

  Some men kicked the corpses that lay on the ground. Other men burned whatever remnant there was to burn.

  Our rage was at its peak, and by then it only became natural for us to give the Incas scowls, threaten them, and then execute them right on the spot if they did not comply.

  A group of men raced up the temple and approached the tall wooden statues that were ingrained with faces of snakes and dragons, and they lit their torches and burned the remaining monuments to the ground.

  But still we found nothing, and our collective doubt grew stronger.

  “Where is it?! You lying bastards! Where’s the gold?!”

  All throughout the square we searched in a frenzied pitch. The men seethed through their teeth like rabid dogs. Some searched the corpses’ mouths to see if they were hiding gold. Others searched the crevices of the stone walls and floors and wedged their swords up and down. We searched the temples, but after an hour, all we found were mummified corpses wrapped in silk cloth and freshly sacrificed bodies.

  Then the sun appeared and all went quiet, and we whispered to ourselves and growled.

  There was no sign of gold anywhere and we took out our frustration on the Incas and drew as much blood as we deemed necessary.

  I saw Francisco pace up and down the square, but he wasn’t searching. He was thinking. Almagro did the same. And so did Soto. They didn’t say a word to one another, but as I saw the three men do this, I suddenly realized the difference of the pieces and how they worked along the board. They were composed and in complete control of their emotions. They were old men in the respective term of the word. They were stationed and saw the game ten steps ahead. I was marveled at their patience, but my instincts were strong that day, and my emotions took control of the time and place, and I was caught in the wave of youth and excitement, and I went on searching.

  Then a voice cried out.

  “Sardina! Come here! Look!”

  I looked to see what it was, and I found Morales hunched over a corpse and in its hands was a shiny black rock.

  “What is this?” Morales said in excitement. I examined the rock, then I turned to Morales, bit my lip and shook my head.

  “It’s a rock, Morales,” I said to him. Then I threw it as far as I could and
it hit the temple steps, and I patted Morales on the shoulder.

  As I left the city’s limits and joined the other men and searched there were certain moments where I couldn’t feel my body. I felt very much like I felt on the beach. I felt as if I were in a trance. And whether evil or holy, it was powerful and strong, and it lasted the entire day. I tried to fight it. I tried to blink and tried to tell myself to wake from the spell, but my efforts were fruitless and I went on in the trance as elated as any day I could remember.

  I remembered saying to myself, “Where am I? Where am I?” And I couldn’t understand anything that was said in return.

  Then Soto pushed me on the shoulder, glared, and shouted at me.

  “Sardina!”

  “Yes, yes, Captain Soto?”

  “Take the prisoners.”

  And so that’s what I did. I joined about a dozen men and we corralled about a hundred Incas onto the square. We shackled them in iron chains, threatened them accordingly, and waited for the translators.

  And so Soto dictated every move. Then Soto approached and listened to the translation, but I could tell from his face that his patience was dwindling.

  “Sardina.”

  “Yes, Captain Soto.”

  “Get the dogs.”

  The translation continued and I went to the ash pit, returned with two dogs, and went back to the square.

  “Go on,” Soto said to the translators. “Tell them we will unleash these dogs on them if they do not appease us.”

  I could barely hold on to the leash, for the dogs barked and barked and pushed their way forward, and snapped their necks to and fro.

  “Ask them if there’s gold.”

  The translators asked, but there was no response.

  “Ask them one more time.”

  Soto found a broken cross, took the two pieces of wood, lit both ends, and gave it to two of the men.

  “Do what you must.”

  And the two men did as they were ordered and pierced the prisoners in their stomachs with the lit torches. The Incas screamed and shrieked and their resistance ended. The translators relayed and the locations were given.

  In the afternoon, they showed us the location, which was a mile down south outside of the city’s limits.

  We paced around and the servants pointed down the hill to a path of stone that was surrounded by tall stone statues and guarded by massive trees.

  And there it was.

  Barbaro was the first to find it. He shouted and he eventually cried.

  “I found it! I found it! Goddamn it, it’s here!”

  Then a crowd formed and a cacophony of cries bellowed out as the men moved towards Barbaro, and he held a hunk of gold up towards the sky as the men gazed and swarmed.

  “I knew it! I goddamn knew it!”

  “Where did he find it?”

  “I knew there was more!”

  I moved in to get a closer look, but soon another voice cried out, “I found another one! Come look! Here’s another one!”

  And the crowd swarmed to the new victor.

  We searched deeper, digging our swords and bare hands into the hard clay. Our fingers bled, but we grinned and laughed, and our eyes lit up like strikes of lightning.

  The day ended with only one other find. It was a small gem, an emerald of some sort. But by then, the men were already dismayed by the amount and the quality.

  Then as nightfall approached the guides brought us a mile down a small cove. The servants nodded, but as the morning came and the afternoon progressed, we searched the cove in and out. We found weaved baskets, strange carvings, and preserved food. But to our dismay, we only discovered a few tiny pearls, the size of small pebbles.

  The men slapped the Inca servants across the face and berated the translators with our demands, but the translators said they knew nothing. Shortly after some of the men started to howl curses and eventually decapitated the servants. This happened a dozen times, and each time the men warned the servants that headlessness would be their fate if they lied to us again.

  As another day passed and the familiar, comfortable state of misery slowly sunk in once again. It was clear by then Francisco had enough. He made his way into the temple and at last, his meeting with Atahualpa began.

  Among the others inside the temple were the rest of the Pizarros and Almagros, Soto, Valverde, and myself. I saw Atahualpa's hand outstretched throughout his chain, and he touched the tomb of his great ancestor, and I heard him cry. His servants were chained and obedient and they showed us a hidden room, which was right outside of the temple.

  We entered the room and lit torches to see that it was bare and filled with cobwebs.

  Francisco pointed to the corners of the room and darted his eyes to Atahualpa, and he watched him sit on his throne still chained with two Spanish guards beside him.

  Atahualpa’s mouth quivered as if he was trying to remember something. An old song, perhaps. But the more he tried the more he cried.

  We measured the room. It was twenty-two feet long and seventeen feet wide. Another measurement was requested but it came up the same. Twenty-two feet by seventeen feet. A minute of silence passed then Francisco turned to the Inca king and gave his demands.

  “Fill this entire room with gold, and we will grant your freedom.”

  He repeated the offer three times, and each time he said it with more conviction, and each time Atahualpa shrugged his shoulders in perplexity and stared up to the ceiling. His face was sullen and grim as if he were watching dead angels fall from the sky.

  Then Francisco nodded his head and let the translators finish, and no one said another word.

  We left the room, and Atahualpa remained there with his guards. An hour later we returned to the very same spot and the translators gathered and Atahualpa spoke, and indeed it was evident that the offer was accepted and he would comply with the terms.

  He’d show us the gold and promised to fill the whole room with it.

  In weeks that followed, Atahualpa and his servants led us to a land below composed of brushes and small cacti with gigantic slabs of rocks. Further into the valley, the cold winds spun and drove us into twisters of rain and sand.

  I remember the land being very dry and low of elevation, and it was unlike any land in Peru. Then as we passed through several miles, the elevation seemed to triple and everything was covered with dense eroded boulders. The servants pointed to a bevy of a tiny stream then pointed further south. I was very skeptical, I must admit, and expected an ambush at any second.

  Gonzalo led the way and berated the guides for hours at a time. Our impatience grew and out of sheer frustration, some of the men stabbed the guides and threw their corpses about and left them to rot on patches of cacti.

  Then a swarm of bats flew in streams and filled the sky with their high-pitched squeals. After another mile, the guides pointed further south and there we saw the caves. There must have been a thousand of them. But to the Incas, these were more than caves. As was explained to me by the friars and others, these caves were Inca burial grounds for warriors and noblemen.

  “Is it there? Is it there?!” repeated the men.

  The guides only nodded. They sparked a flame with flimsy pieces of flint and tinder, lit their torches, and handed them off to each man, and we went inside the caves.

  The smell was awful, it reminded me of the smell in Cajamarca’s square. It was the smell of rotting corpses and llama dung, but it didn’t matter because it was there that our doubts dissipated and our smiles returned.

  First we found a pound of rubies besides a rotten wooden tomb. They were covered in cobwebs and dust. Then we looked above and all that glimmered was the gold of the heavens, and as the light shone the men laughed with frantic fright and sounded like little girls who found their first love.

  “Oh, my Mary, Mother of Christ!”

  Our fortunes were there, and we could finally touch them with our fingers. And just for that moment, all that misery was worth it. The ethereal fee
ling was palpable. It was an opium that transcended the Almighty God, and, in fact, was the Almighty God, and we felt all its joy. And we danced in its revelry.

  Then we took all the treasures away from the cave and examined our first evidence. We held the rubies in our hands and studied its sparkle.

  Then the servants took us further down the hill and showed us the caves on the south side of the pass where there were, even more, caves. By the end of the day, new guides approached us and took us five miles south to an uncharted strip of land that was low in elevation covered in brown and silver rocks. They pointed to a nearby cave. Inside we found many rooms. Then we opened a stone door and saw the glow brimming from underneath. When we went inside we found the entire room was splattered in gold. We found many Incas statues. There were rams and eagles carved out of quartz and limestone, and statues of bears and snakes and ocelots and pumas with heaps of gold plastered on to them, covering them from top to bottom. Then the Incas revealed their War God, which was a fifteen-foot statue, filled to the brim with gold and silver.