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Atahualpa and his brother Huáscar were waging a fratricidal war, and first Pizarro, and then Almagro, who arrived in Peru a little later, took advantage of that to defeat them both.”
    Alderete explained that not a leaf stirred in the Inca empire that the authorities did not learn about; the ordinary Indians were all slaves. The Inca used part of the tribute paid him by his subjects to feed and protect orphans, widows, the ancient, and the ill, and also put part aside for bad times. In spite of these advanced social laws, which did not exist in Spain, the people detested the sovereign and his privileged court because they lived only to serve the military and religious castes, the orejones. According to Alderete, it didn’t matter to the people whether they were dominated by Incas or Spaniards, and that is why they didn’t offer much resistance to the invaders. In any case, Atahualpa’s death gave the victory to Pizarro. When the head was cut off the body of the empire, the empire collapsed.
    â€œThose two men, Pizarro and Almagro, bastards both of them, with neither education nor fortune, are a perfect example of what can be achieved in the New World, Pedro. They are not just wealthy beyond imagination, they have also had honors and titles heaped on their heads by our emperor.”
    â€œYou hear only about their fame and their wealth, only about the ventures that succeeded: gold, pearls, emeralds, lands, and subjected Indians. No one ever mentions the dangers,” Valdivia argued.
    â€œYou are right about that; there is no end to the dangers. It takes men of great character to conquer those virgin soils.”
    Valdivia blushed. Did Alderete have doubts about his character? But immediately he reasoned that if that were the case, the man was within his rights, since he himself had wondered. It had been a long while since he had put his courage to the test. The world was moving ahead with giant steps. It was his fate to have been born into a splendid age in which the mysteries of the universe were at last being revealed: not only was the earth round, there were those who suggested that it circled the sun and not the reverse. And what was he doing while all this was happening? He was counting sheep and goats, harvesting cork and olives. Once again Valdivia was aware of how bored he was. He was tired of tending cattle and tilling fields, of playing cards with his neighbors, of masses and rosaries, of reading the same books over and over—nearly all of them banned by the Inquisition—and of several years of obligatory, sterile embraces with his wife. Here before him stood destiny, embodied in that enthusiastic young man, come once more to knock at his door, as it had in the times of Lombardy, Flanders, Pavía, Milan, and Rome.
    â€œWhen are you leaving for the Americas, Jerónimo?”
    â€œThis year, if God wills it.”
    â€œYou can count on me,” said Pedro de Valdivia in a whisper, so Marina wouldn’t hear. His eyes were on the Toledo sword hanging above the fireplace.
    In 1537 I said my good-byes to my family, whom I would never see again, and traveled with my niece Constanza to the beautiful city of Seville, perfumed with orange blossoms and jasmine, and from there down the clear waters of the Guadalquivir to the bustling port of Cadiz, with its narrow cobbled streets and Moorish cupolas. We set sail on Maestro Manuel Martín’s ship, a three-master with a tonnage of two hundred and forty, slow and heavy but steady in the water. A line of men loaded on the cargo: barrels of water, beer, wine, and oil; sacks of flour and dried meat, live fowl, a cow, and two pigs to be eaten on the voyage, in addition to several horses, which were worth their weight in gold in the New World. I watched while my carefully tied bundles were delivered to the space Maestro Martín had assigned me.
    The first thing I did as my niece and I settled into our small cabin was to set up an