The King's Fifth Read Online Free PDF Page B

red roofs of the City of the True Cross. Everything I behold is new to me, for I was brought to the fortress at night.
    We cross the esplanade to a stone tower and Don Felipe leads the way into a small, dingy room where a young man is seated. He is scarcely older than I am, perhaps twenty or twenty-one. His name is Pablo Gamboa and he wears a clean but threadbare doublet, trimmed with ragged lace at cuffs and throat. Both his age and his poverty discomfort me.
    In a thin, undernourished voice, after a polite greeting, he says, "To the charge of defrauding his Majesty, the King, do you wish to plead guilty or not guilty?"

    "Guilty," I answer.
    This takes him aback. His eyes, which are large and hungry, grow larger. "Then you did defraud the King of his rightful share of treasure, which you have in your possession, and so wish to plead?"
    "The treasure is not in my possession."
    "Where is it?" the counsel asks.
    "In the land of the Seven Cities," I reply, remembering Don Felipe's admonition.
    "If this is the case," he says, "the matter is simple. Give the King his royal share of this treasure and I shall ask clemency for you."
    "The treasure is hidden," I answer. "Forever."
    "What do you mean?"
    "I mean that it is hidden in a secret place and hidden there where no man will ever find it."
    "Then you do not wish to give the King his share?"
    "No."
    Counsel Gamboa looks at his fingers, which are thin and sallow, and after a moment at me. He seems to think I am mad.
    "Peculiar," he mumbles. "How do I present your case to the Royal Audiencia? And ask clemency for one who deliberately defies the King?"
    "I do not defy the King. I refuse to tell where the gold is hidden. That is all."
    "For what reason?"
    "For a reason that is my own. Which can be of no interest to the King or to the Royal Audiencia."

    Counsel Gamboa shakes his head. Now it is clear he thinks that he is dealing with a madman. He asks me if I am aware of the severe penalties for the crime I have committed. When I answer that I am, he again shakes his head and escorts me to the door, saying that he will give my case his closest attention.
    While we walk back to my cell, Don Felipe, who has listened outside the door, commends me for not betraying the gold's whereabouts. But we are no sooner in the cell with the iron door closed than he turns a different face.
    "The map," he says, "How does it proceed?"
    "Slowly. In my mind, only."
    "In your mind?" He takes two steps toward me. "You were in the land of Cíbola. There you found a great treasure and there you hid it. Since you are a cartographer you would have made careful notes. The degrees of latitude, certain features of the landscape—rocks, streams, hills, mountains—concerning this hiding place. These notes you must have."
    "I have notes on the country. But not of the hiding place. They are in Mexico City."
    "Where?" Don Felipe picks up the candle and holds it close to my face, as if it will help him to tell whether or not I speak the truth. "Where in the City of Mexico?"
    "Near the Zócolo," I answer. "A
fonda
called The Three Brothers. I left them there with the proprietor the day I was brought to Vera Cruz."
    Don Felipe puts down the candle.
    "I send a messenger to this inn," he says. "Within six days or less he will return. If he returns without the notes, then,
señor,
you shall spend the rest of your days in a hole. First in one where we let down food on a rope. Then, if you are still alive, in the deep one where the tide flows in and out."

    "The notes might have been stolen," I protest. "Or lost. The Three Brothers is not the safest place in the City of Mexico."
    "Stolen? Lost? Could a thief tell from the notes where the gold is hidden? Could anyone tell?"
    "No. They can be read by me only."
    "Excellent! Now pray. Pray that the notes remain safe."
    He walks to the door and opens it, but then changes his mind and closes it again. He goes to a corner of the cell and there on his knees claws loose