The thunder sounded with such strength it felt as if heaven itself were angry. Yet no rain followed. It was as though even the sky wanted to witness the result of the battle.
Machetes lay scattered across the floor, and the curses of dying men slowly faded. Esteban watched his numbers grow smaller and smaller. The loyal servants died fighting; the traitors had been the first to flee.
He had lost too much blood.
At last, he fell to the ground.
In front of him lay the body of the patriarch of the Hoyos family. The man's face was frozen in surprise, a clean shot through his head. Esteban turned onto his back and looked at the dark sky.
Then he closed his eyes for the last time.
Krugger noticed the silence spreading across the plaza and descended from the tower, the cigar still lit between his lips.
"You see, Miss Gertrudis," he said calmly, glancing at the bodies outside, "the servants of New Granada may be strong in brute force. But they are no match for modern weapons."
