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survive?’
    I could not answer her. She kissed me on the lips and moved away, saying only, ‘You have a wife?’
    ‘I do not.’
    ‘You have a woman who loves you.’
    I could not counter her statement. But I did not know if Isabella had ever truly loved me.
    ‘I hope that you are my beloved.’
    ‘I do not believe you.’
    I clasped her shoulders and turned her round, forcing her to look into my eyes. ‘At this moment, in this minute, in this hour, and on this day, I love none but you.’
    She looked at me in disbelief.
    ‘You know how to use words …’
    ‘I speak the truth.’
    ‘I do not think so.’
    ‘Ask me then to prove my love.’
    ‘Renounce your people.’
    It came so suddenly, so impossibly.
    ‘You know I cannot do this; it would be the same as asking you to come back with me to Spain, and for you to leave your home and father.…’
    ‘You cannot do this?’
    ‘No,’ I said, ‘I cannot.’
    I was trapped in Isabella’s love; it was an arrangement from which I could not break free without shame or scandal.
    ‘Then you cannot love me,’ Ignacia said simply.
    ‘Trust me,’ I said with all my heart. ‘I will be true to you.’
    ‘I cannot see how this can be …’
    ‘And I cannot see how I can prove it.’
    ‘Swear …’ she said.
    ‘What shall I swear?’
    ‘That you will never forget me, that you will always love me. Swear.’
    ‘Upon what?’
    ‘Upon this chocolatl …’
    I had never seen her so serious. ‘Love me,’ she said, taking my hand, as the flames leapt under the pan of melting chocolate.
    ‘I will always love you,’ she said. ‘And I will always remember this day.’
    I repeated her words, and we clasped our hands over the fire.
    ‘Put your hand over the flame, and lift the chocolatl away.’
    I leaned forward and did so, the heat burning into my hand, pain searing through my body. I was determined to prove that I could do such a thing. Love is the greatest spur to bravery.
    ‘I swear.’
    Ignacia smiled briefly and I tried to kiss her, but her movements were now perfunctory. She turned away and lay back on the matting we had so recently consecrated. ‘One day,’ she said quietly, ‘we too will be conquerors. What would you think if we came to your land, and did as you have done to us?’
    ‘I could not be happy.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘For you would change the land I love.’
    I thought of the glories of Seville, of Isabella and her father, of the town square, and of our fiestas.
    ‘Then why do you think I am unhappy now?’ she asked, forlornly. ‘Can you not see? You are taking our land.’
    ‘I will try to protect you.’
    ‘Against so many? There is no protection in war.’
    She turned away from me, as if intending to sleep, and it seemed there could be no further conversation. I began to stroke her back, but her mind was decided. I knew thatshe was still awake, but there was nothing I could do or say that would reassure her.
    When I awoke, I realised that I had lost all sense of time, and found myself in a state of advanced agitation. I was aware, as perhaps I had never been before, of the responsibilities I possessed: to my General, my fellow soldiers, and myself. I had abandoned my duties, and could think of no explanation for my actions, nor could I write of the things that I had seen and done, so inappropriate were they to a royal report. My only hope of safety lay in Montezuma’s reasoning, for he, surely, would provide my alibi to Cortés. Perhaps he would argue that I had been listing the contents of his treasury.
    I told Ignacia that we must leave at once.
    She looked at me sadly, and we walked over to our canoe. I could not believe that such a time had come to an end. Ignacia steered the boat towards me and I climbed in with a heavy heart.
    As we emerged from the plantation I was filled not only with the impending loss of love but also with trepidation and the fear of punishment.
    Ignacia tried to be reassuring as she paddled away from our