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drama of the sick man holding onto life in the dark room. The marathon reptile chase had
been going on for practically the whole day, with neither lizard ready to give up.
Lizards were everywhere because the midsummer weather was stiflingly hot this
year, as a result of the drought. Rainmakers danced every night since we arrived here at
the Rios dos Escravos three weeks ago. You heard their loud drumming and shrill chants
as soon as the sun went down, and the ceremonies always continued until the break of
next dawn. In the morning, the blood of sacrificial victims left large patterns of dark red
stains on the ground at the main crossroads in the palace where we were lodged. At first
I did not know what these large dark red patterns meant. My native mistress, Orogu,
said they were the blood of condemned criminals sacrificed for rainmaking magic. The
barbarity of the natives is unsurpassable. Seriously I doubt that the blood of Christ could
wash their sins white out here in the jungle, where it never snows.
In the cabin, Da Alverio clung on to dear life although it seemed that his end was
nigh as he dictated to me, in his delirium, the following note, his latest memoranda,
prostrate and gasping for breath in his damp cot:
“Sealed this day, November 13, year of our Lord, 1491, at the Rios dos Escravos:
to be delivered to His Holiness, The Pope Innocent VIII, via Vice-Chancellor Rodrigo
Borgia, by the humble hand of His obedient son, fearless knight, and faithful servant,
Joham Affom da Alveiro.
“Let them drink from the portions of their cup! Mine eyes have witnessed endless
lands and boundless seas. Mine eyes have seen the lands of Cannibals and Hannibals,
where the sea foams red in the mouth; where cupids and birds fly in and out of dirty
clouds; where ignorant schools of fishes swim beneath magnificent arcs of the Rainbow
over Africanus oceans. So let them drink! Mine eyes have witnessed endless lands and