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‘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.