Viceroy moved to meet the oncoming attackers.

"Traitors!" bellowed the Viceroy. "Cowards! Have you come to kill me in
my own house?"

Parry, thrust! Parry, thrust! Two of the attackers fell before the
snake-tongue blade of the fighting Viceroy. Sir Martin accounted for two
more before he fell in a flood of his own blood.

The Viceroy was alone, now. His blade flickered as though inspired, and
two more died under its tireless onslaught. Even more would have died if
the head of the conspiracy, a supporter of Young Jim named Rada, hadn't
pulled a trick that not even the Viceroy would have pulled.

Rada grabbed one of his own men and shoved him toward the Viceroy's
sword, impaling the hapless man upon that deadly blade.

And, in the moment while the Viceroy's weapon was buried to the hilt in
an enemy's body, the others leaped around the dying man and ran their
blades through the Viceroy.

He dropped to the floor, blood gushing from half a dozen wounds.

Even so, his fighting heart still had seconds more to beat. As he
propped himself up on one arm, the assassins stood back; even they
recognized that they had killed something bigger and stronger than they.
A better man than any of them lay dying at their feet.

He clawed with one hand at the river of red that flowed from his pierced
throat and then fell forward across the stone floor. With his crimson
hand, he traced the great symbol of his Faith on the stone--the Sign of
the Cross. He bent his head to kiss it, and, with a final cry of
"_Jesus!_" he died. At the age of seventy, it had taken a dozen men to
kill him with treachery, something all the hell of nine years of
conquest and rule had been unable to do.

And thus died Francisco Pizarro, the Conqueror of Peru.

THE END

TO BE READ AFTER YOU HAVE FINISHED "DESPOILERS OF THE GOLDEN EMPIRE."

Dear John,

It has been brought to my attention, by those who have read the story,
that "Despoilers of the Golden Empire" might conceivably be charged with
being a "reader cheater"--_i.e._, that it does not play fair with the
reader, but leads him astray by means of false statements. Naturally, I
feel it me bounden duty to refute such scurrilous and untrue affronts,
and thus save meself from opprobrium.

Therefore, I address what follows to the interested reader:

It cannot be denied that you must have been misled when you read the
story; indeed, I'd be the last to deny it, since I _intended_ that you
shou