The conquistador’s true treasure...
Benicio Villafuerte sailed to the New World to seek his fortune. But his treasure map is impossible to decipher. He needs a guide, and discovering an innocent native woman in trouble is the perfect opportunity. He’ll buy her freedom if she’ll help him on his hunt...
Tula never imagined the adventure Benicio would take her on—for when their dangerous days explode into sensuous nights, she is brought to life. And soon she embarks on her own quest...to capture the conquistador’s heart!
Benicio’s heart hammered. The woman in white was so close to him, yet so completely out of his reach.
The newly elected alcalde of Vera Cruz, Alonso de Grado, stood and selected the woman in orange, bending to his knee and bowing, then escorted the young woman back to the table. Others were not so polite. Pilot Diego Cermeño took the girl in green by the elbow. Sailor Gonzalo de Umbria merely gestured to the girl in red. Then it was Benicio’s turn.
There was only one thing to be done. Benicio reached into his boot. Then he stood and walked to the head of the table. He placed the diamond and jade ring before Cortés.
A curious grin spread across Cortés’s face. ‘How came you by this magnificent piece?’
‘I found it in a stream near the fields of Potonchan,’ Benicio lied. ‘I have very sharp eyes.’
‘I will accept it as compensation for the woman in white,’ Cortés said.
Author Note
This is a story of a clash of cultures and also of their fusion. It takes place during one of the cruelest, most astonishing periods in world history: Cortés’s conquest of the Aztecs, beginning in 1519.
At the time, the Aztecs, or Mexica, ruled Mexico from their capital of Tenochtitlan—one of the largest and most advanced cities in the world. The Mexica were the Romans of Mesoamerica—their ever-expanding empire covered eighty thousand miles and they exacted tribute from some six million souls, including the Totonacs.
The heroine of this story is a Totonac woman. She participates in the fateful alliance of the Totonacs and Spanish against the Mexica, but slowly realizes that the Spanish are becoming new oppressors. For her, the only hope for freedom lies in the mysterious lands of the Mayans.
Often called the Greeks of Mesoamerica, the Mayans lived amid the ruins of their ancient civilization. Culturally advanced but geographically isolated, they were never conquered by the Mexica, and evaded Spanish rule until 1697. In some respects, they evade it still.
Everywhere, the descendants of the conquest live on. I have tried to present this part of their history as knowledgeably and respectfully as possible.
Thank you for reading!
GRETA GILBERT
The Spaniard’s
Innocent Maiden
Greta Gilbert’s passion for ancient history began with a teenage crush on Indiana Jones. As an adult, she landed a dream job at National Geographic Learning, where her colleagues—former archaeologists—helped her learn to keep her facts straight. Now she lives in South Baja, Mexico, where she continues to study the ancients. She is especially intrigued by ancient mysteries, and always keeps a little Indiana Jones inside her heart.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Excerpt from Captive of the Viking by Juliet Landon
Prologue
Seville, Spain—March 1517
Carlos dropped to his knee in the crowded marketplace, swept off his feathered hat and asked Luisa Valentina Altamirano if she would do him the honour of becoming his wife. A small stray dog, who had reluctantly agreed to play the role of Luisa, whined mournfully.
‘Release her,’ Carlos told his brother, Benicio. ‘She has made me into a fool.’
‘Indeed she has,’ agreed Benicio, releasing the scruffy canine, who took a direct route to a nearby butcher’s stall.
‘I need a more intelligent understudy,’ Carlos said, stroking his nascent beard, ‘one who will appreciate my poetry.’ Carlos eyed Benicio steadily.
‘Not I,’ Benicio protested, holding up his book of formulas. ‘I am a man of science. I am unqualified to assess your effusions of love.’
That was not entirely true. Cursed with the double-edged sword of male beauty, Benicio had had a stream of love interests over the years—women attracted by his piercing blue eyes and towering figure, which he had been told he moved with a remarkable grace. There was only one woman, however, whom Benicio had ever loved and she was about to receive a proposal of marriage from his younger brother Carlos.
‘If you will not play the role of Luisa, then I will ask Armando to do it,’ said Carlos, beckoning to their portly older brother, ‘though he is less suited to it.’
Benicio scoffed. ‘Armando is perfectly suited,’ he said. ‘Just look at how he preens before that hatters’ mirror.’ As Benicio and Carlos laughed mockingly at their older brother, Benicio slid a glance to the avenue that led into Seville’s bustling Plaza del Triunfo. Any moment, Luisa’s painted carriage would appear and La Belleza herself would disembark in a flutter of skirts and ribbons.
Benicio was already steeling himself against that moment, for he held a secret that even his brothers did not know. Only two months past, he had made his own proposal of marriage to Luisa and had not yet received her answer.
Tranquilo, he told himself, continuing to laugh rather too gaily. Why was he finding it so hard to control his nerves? He had known Luisa since childhood, after all. For most of their lives, they had been the be
st of friends. There was no reason for his heart to be racing as it was, or for the sweat to be surging beneath his chemise in a soaking torrent.
She had had the same effect on him the evening of the Feast of the Epiphany, when he had urged her to marry him. But she had only stared at him with those lovely green eyes, pondering something. What had it been?
‘I have returned,’ said Armando, rejoining them. ‘Why do you stare at me so piteously?’
‘You have been selected to hear Carlos’s proposal,’ explained Benicio.
Before Armando could protest, Carlos had dropped to his knee once again and was sputtering some muck about the colour of the rose in the light of dawn after the first rain. Undaunted, Armando embraced his role as Luisa and was soon heaving a false bosom and feigning a maiden’s tears. Benicio erupted in riotous laughter.
‘Knaves!’ shouted Carlos. But his sour expression quickly turned sweet, as his gaze travelled beyond his two brothers to a vision just behind them.
‘Dearest friends, what merriment have I missed?’ trilled a delicate, familiar voice.
Benicio and Armando turned. It was none other than Luisa. She had sneaked up on them with fox-like stealth. Benicio felt a rush of blood to his cheeks.
‘Carlos, what wretched errand do your brothers demand that requires you to kneel before them so deferentially?’ She offered her hand to Carlos to kiss, which he did for many long seconds. ‘And, Benicio, you are as red as a cock’s comb. Are your humours out of balance?’
She slid Benicio a playful grin, and his heart flickered. Had she just teased him? Searching for confirmation, his eyes stumbled upon her lips—two large, luscious impediments to his otherwise rational thoughts.
‘Benicio?’ Luisa asked again, her voice leaking concern.
She wore her curly hair pinned up, almost the same as when they were children, with two gentle ringlets framing her round face. As she spoke, they seemed to bounce in rhythm with Benicio’s racing heartbeats. ‘Tell me now,’ she demanded. ‘What are you three devils about?’
‘We were just...practising,’ said Carlos.
‘Practising?’
Carlos opened his mouth once again, but no sound emerged. Benicio stepped forward. ‘It was nothing—a scene from an old book. We had not anticipated its comedic effects. What a lovely summer day, is it not?’
‘Which book?’ asked Luisa. ‘Perhaps I know it.’
‘Ah,’ Carlos stumbled. ‘Ah...’
‘Ah... Amadís de Gaula,’ Benicio finished.
‘Amadís de Gaula!’ Luisa exclaimed. ‘Which scene?’
Now Benicio was in a tangle, for in truth he had laboured most of his life in order to avoid reading the ever-popular Amadís de Gaula. ‘It was the scene in which Amadís the Brave battles the terrible...’ Benicio paused, for he had forgotten the name of the monster.
‘The terrible monster Endriago?’ said Luisa, her green eyes glinting.
‘Indeed!’ cried Benicio. ‘I was playing Amadís, of course, and Armando was playing...’
‘His assistant Gandolin?’
‘Yes, yes! And Carlos was playing...’
‘The beautiful Oriana?’
‘Exactamente!’ Benicio exclaimed. ‘And that is why we were laughing, for Carlos—I mean, Oriana—was pronouncing her undying love for Amadís with the conviction of a practised thespian.’
Carlos was now smiling at Benicio with something like a monstrous rage beneath his grin.
Luisa smoothed her voluminous dress. ‘My dear Benicio, in all the years we have known each other, you continue to surprise me. I had no idea you were such an avid student of our beloved Castilian literature.’
Her admiring smile had produced two perfect dimples at the edges of her round cheeks, causing Benicio’s insides to rollick unbidden. ‘Indeed, I am very fond of Amadís,’ lied Benicio. ‘The chivalric romances have been an integral part of my university studies.’
‘Ah, the university,’ Luisa said and her dimples disappeared. ‘You are still at the university?’
‘I am.’
Why had she asked that question? He had told her as much the evening he had presented his suit. He had also explained the professorship he planned to seek and the life he would be able to provide her as an academic—a humble life, but one full of love and wonder.
‘Remind me when we part,’ she said, ‘I have a gift for you.’
‘A gift?’ Benicio sputtered. If joy were made of water, then he was surely drowning. ‘I will most certainly remind you, mi bella dama,’ he said. He slipped her a devilish grin and watched with satisfaction as she swallowed hard.
Then, with the practised diplomacy of the most sought-after young lady in all of Seville, Luisa turned her attention back to Benicio’s brothers. ‘Of course, we will not soon be parting, not if my dearest childhood friends will walk with me a while?’
She nodded at her wary driver, then wove her hands beneath Carlos’s and Armando’s arms. ‘Tell me, when was the last time we were all together?’ And with that, the three began to stroll.
‘We came to your family’s latifundia for the Feast of the Epiphany two months past,’ noted Armando.
‘Ah! I remember! What a wonderful celebration, was it not?’
She stole another glance at Benicio. ‘And since then, caballeros, what news of your lives?’
Carlos spoke first. ‘I have been accepted into the Order of Santiago. I am apprenticed to become a knight.’
Benicio smiled to himself. After the Reconquista of Spain by the Christians, Queen Isabella had fleeced the Orders of their dominion. The world had changed and knighthood was no longer anything to brag about.
Still, Luisa was staring up at Carlos as if he had just hung the moon. ‘Is it not very dangerous? To command a horse in battle?’ she asked.
‘Any equestrian pursuit carries some measure of danger, my lady. But it is worth it to serve in Christ’s army.’
‘Though the bloody Crusades are indeed a thing of the past,’ Benicio pointed out, feeling a twinge of jealousy. ‘Was it not Aristotle who wrote that the best men behave moderately?’
‘Easily said by a man who rides atop a wooden desk instead of a horse,’ countered Carlos.
Thankfully, Luisa had become distracted by the shimmer of a fine fabric being displayed at a nearby stall.
‘What have we here?’ she asked. A Moorish man was unfurling a bolt of red silk. Luisa touched the fabric to her cheek. ‘My father can no longer indulge me such extravagances. He has lately lost much land to the Ponce de Leon clan in court. Have you not heard of it?’
‘A terrible injustice,’ said Armando, getting Luisa’s attention.
‘But do tell me of your life, Armando,’ urged Luisa, sauntering on. ‘I assume you are training with your father to take over your family’s estate?’
‘No, I have enlisted in the Tercios Regiment.’
Now Luisa halted her stroll. ‘But you are your father’s first son. Why would you risk your life in battle?’
‘To bring glory to my family and to Spain.’
If Carlos had hung the moon with his news of a future knighthood, then surely Armando had lit the sun. ‘You do your country proud,’ Luisa said, staring at Armando as if he were Amadís himself.
‘Would you look at that strange fruit over there?’ Benicio cried suddenly. Across the plaza, a young man was describing a misshapen melon to a crowd of onlookers.
‘We must examine it immediately!’ Carlos seconded.
Benicio and Carlos hurried Luisa and Armando across the plaza.
‘The papaya is not what it appears to be,’ the young man was saying.
‘How much?’ Benicio interrupted, desperate for anything to help him regain Luisa’s attention.
‘Ah...half a real.’
Benicio slapped his half-real into the young man’s hand, pulled a papaya from the bin and sliced his pocket knife through it to produce a bite-sized cube. ‘Sweet fruit for a sweet woman,’ he said, holding the cube to Luisa’s lips.
Luisa opened her mouth and the four young men watched reverently as she chewed. She gave a lusty swallow, then her review: ‘Absolutely delicious. Thank you, Señor.’
‘I am Rogelio,’ the young man said, bowing low.
‘Rogelio, it is your job to sell, not to woo young women!’ A grizzled old man appeared and, noticing Luisa, he stepped towards her. ‘Well, hello, my dear.’
Benicio jumped protectively in front of Luisa and the old man was left to survey Benicio instead. ‘You have a commanding stature, young man,’ he said with surprise. ‘Tall but strong, and with a long reach.’
‘And you have an aggressive manner, Señor,’ Benicio growled.
The man snarled, then cheered. ‘But coming from one so well made, I shall take it as a compliment!’ He held out his hand. ‘I am Vicente Yáñez Pinzón, former captain of the Niña.’
‘You sailed with Colón?’ asked Benicio incredulously.
‘I did, rest his soul.’ The old conquistador crossed himself mockingly. He studied Benicio’s arms. ‘I am in search of strong, able-bodied young men who would like to bring riches to the Kingdom of Spain,’ he said. ‘You, Señor, have the stature and reach of a fine rigger. Why not serve your country and get rich? There is more to be had in the New World than simply fruits.’
‘Thank you, Capitan Pinzón, but I serve Spain with the fruits of my mind.’ Benicio caught Luisa’s hand and they started back across the plaza with Armando and Carlos following behind.
As they walked, Benicio reminded himself that he was happy. Luisa’s hand was in his, after all, and she had not yet refused him. Still, a pall seemed to have been cast upon the day—an invisible foreboding that even the bright spring sun seemed unable to defeat.
‘It is no small thing,’ said Luisa, ‘to be invited to the West Indies. I have heard that men pay twelve ducados or more for the passage. And you have just been invited to make it at no cost.’ She peered up at him curiously, then pulled her hand free of his. ‘Well, look at us, gentlemen! We have returned to where we began.’
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