All language subtitles for Gold.2017.SPANISH.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-VXT.en

In the early 16th century,
for many Spaniards driven

by hunger and poverty to become soldiers,
the newly discovered Indies

offered dreams of fame and fortune.
And a great number traveled there,

with everything to gain
and nothing to lose, except their lives.

They were harsh, arrogant, cruel,
often divided by quarrels and birthplaces.

They killed without scruples
and died without protest,

in search of gold, but while they
marched towards the unknown,

these men and women
unwittingly shed light

on a new world and an amazing feat.

THE INDIES, 1538

My name is Martín Dávila,
king's soldier.

Today is the hundredth day
since I landed in Sanlúcar

to reach the new lands
in search of fame and fortune.

I'm part of an exploration
in search of the City of Gold,

which the Indians call Tezutlán,

whose roofs they say
are made of pure gold.

To reach it we'll have to cross
lands never seen,

nor heard,

nor ever dreamt before.

To relate our fights
with hostile Indians,

describe our hardships,

remember our dead,

record our greed,

and avoid the passage of time
taking us for storytellers,

the king has entrusted his scribe,
the scholar Ulzama.

4th of April.

After a skirmish with hostile Indians
in which we lost seven men,

we continue towards
the City of Gold on the map

made by the explorer Iñigo Labastida
8 years ago

before returning ill to Puerto Cristo
and dying of fever.

My occupation as the king's scribe
is to be an eyewitness,

relate the facts and certify
once the gold is found

that our emperor the king
receives one fifth of its totality.

Governor Mendoza put Don Gonzalo de Baztán
in charge of the expedition,

Navarran like him.

He's an old soldier, but his best years
are long behind him.

Troubled with melancholy,
he's unpredictable,

indecisive and excessively
authoritarian.

To heighten confusion,
and despite being advised against it,

he brought along his wife,
Doña Ana Baztán,

much younger than him.

She's pretty, graceful
and has the spirit of a dreamer.

The men covet her and hate her,

for they think Don Gonzalo
only cares after her well-being.

The second-in-charge,
Lieutenant Gorriamendi,

is a veteran of the indies,

accustomed to the climate
and hardships of these lands.

He forged character and fame
hunting Indian slaves.

The men fear and respect him.

Nearly one third of the expedition
are veterans of the emperor's wars in Italy,

like Sergeant Bastaurrés.

The spiritual part is handled
by Father Vargas,

a moody, intransigent,
fanatical Black Friar,

always looking for vile sinners.

The rest are recent arrivals
from Spain.

Boastful men always quarreling
over geography.

They form groups and keep their
distance according to their region.

Typical Spaniards.

But when it's time to fight Indians
and face danger,

the quarrels vanish
and they fight side by side.

Men with nothing to lose
and everything to gain

if they survive this expedition.

Men determined not to languish

ploughing the thankless, dry,
God-forsaken lands of Spain.

That's why they seek gold,

to grow old like nobleman,
indebted to no one.

For they will have earned
every last piece of gold

with their blood, dangers,
wounds and fears.

She's not the right woman for you.

Caribes.

Romero, Mediano,

Barbate and Martín Dávila.

Take the rearguard
with the sergeant.

Son of a bitch.

Aragonese and Andalusians
always take the guard or the rearguard.

You heard the orders.
Rearguard.

You should be giving the orders.

Keep quiet.

Mediano, stay fifty steps behind.

Well? What happened to Mediano?

The Indians took him.

Maybe being Aragonese he shit himself
and ran off with them.

Say that again
and I'll slit your soul.

By yourself?

GOLD

Olite.

Cross.

Sir, if you don't mind,
the sergeant and I will go first.

Where are you from?

Extremadura.

Bad lands, good people.

Today we lost soldier Mediano
to an Indian attack.

And soldiers Recarte and Muntels,

eaten by a monster
the people here call a caiman.

Mediano's share of the gold,
according to his will,

will go to young Pedro,

who is obliged to deliver it
to his family.

Soldiers Recarte and Muntels
will leave no inheritance.

Their shares will be divided by those
still alive when we find the gold.

Let's go, set up camp.

Priests so close bring bad luck.

Martín, you'll do the first watch.

In Puerto Cristo they said Don Gonzalo
brought her from a brothel in Cuba.

I don't care if she's a whore,
a Hebrew or a Saracen.

When I'm rich,
I want a woman like that.

What would you do with her?

Everything.
In front and from behind.

I prefer paying for whores.

In the long term, even in the short term,
they're cheaper.

Marchena.

Sing something for me.

Mother, I come from the poplar trees.

I saw them shaking in the breeze.

The poplars in Seville where

I saw my friend so fair.

Mother, I come from the poplar trees.

I saw them shaking in the breeze.

The poplars in Seville where

I saw my friend so fair.

What?

Go on, fetch.

The poplars in Seville where...

Who are you?

I was baptized Jeromillo.

I've come from Puerto Cristo
to speak with Don Gonzalo.

Release him.
He's my property.

What's happening, Sergeant?

Nothing good.

Talk to your Navarran friend,
see if he finds out anything.

He sleeps with Doña Ana's maidservant
every night.

Iturbe.

Something strange
is happening.

Yes, it looks like it.

Doña Ana might tell La Parda
something.

If she does, tonight we'll know.

Let's go!

I said let's go!

We want to talk to Don Gonzalo.

Who names me?

Martín Dávila, king's soldier, sir.

- I wish to speak on behalf of the men.
- There's no time to chat.

Then find time.

I think the jungle has softened
your skull.

To my knowledge, these new lands

- were not conquered by nuns.
- With all due respect,

I do not see nuns around me,

but soldiers.

Iturbe, Navarran like myself.
What do you think?

Are we with soldiers or nuns?

I'm half-Navarran,
and with all due respect,

I don't like being compared to nuns.

Very well.

What do you want to know?

The news the Indian Jeromillo
brought from Puerto Cristo.

A few days after we left Puerto Cristo,

an envoy sent by the viceroy
arrived to substitute Governor Mendoza.

The new governor
has sent an expedition

to find us led by Don Juan Medrano.

His orders are to arrest me,

put me in irons and escort me
back to Puerto Cristo.

For what reason?

The viceroy heard about the City of Gold
and he wants it all for himself.

He's incarcerated Governor Mendoza,

accusing him of treason.
And he wants me hanged.

Which means that

if Medrano's expedition catches us,
we'll have to share the gold with his men.

That's right.

But that's the best case scenario.

And the worst?

That after they hang us for treason,

Don Gonzalo, the sergeant and me
as leaders of the expedition,

they'll kill you all.

So they won't have to share
the gold with you.

I don't like either of the possibilities.

Neither do I.

We'll have to make a decision.

Those who choose to continue
with Don Gonzalo,

cross the line.

Those who'd rather wait
for Don Medrano's expedition,

stay where you are.

To avoid misunderstandings,

those who cross the line
must know that that step

will force us to take up arms
against the men pursuing us

and put us in direct rebellion
against the viceroy.

Rebellion against the viceroy,

but not God

or His church,

for we will share our riches
with it

to help convert the savages
still in the devil's hands.

Gonzalo, we're at war.

If you don't take control,
they'll kill us.

If the scholar doesn't cross the line,
we're lost.

He'd turn us into outlaws
in rebellion against our king.

That I won't do for all the gold
in the world.

I propose that to prove

our faithfulness to the king
we raise his share to two-fifths.

Anyone against the soldier's proposal?

Then I shall relay

the soldiers' decision so that
the emperor king has a record of it.

Today is the sixth day
since we got the news

that Don Juan Medrano was chasing us
on orders from the viceroy

and that the soldiers I accompany
refuse to disown the Kingdom of Castille.

According to Labastida's map,
the gold is still far away.

But there's another booty to be had.
The indigenous women.

When we find them,
we split them among the soldiers.

But sometimes that causes disputes
and weapons are drawn.

What's all this shouting about?

Soldiers quarreling, sir.

They're arguing over turns
sleeping with the Indian girls.

They can't agree.

Release the Indians
and the dispute will be over.

- That's not customary.
- But it's timely.

You heard Don Gonzalo.

Release the Indian girls.

Let them go.

Bastard!

What did you say, soldier?

I see that soldier Aresti,
besides being a stubborn Biscayan,

is a scoundrel and a coward.

Give him the garrote.

Sir...

If you're going to kill me,
use an arquebus,

or have Lieutenant Gorriamendi
slit my throat, he has a steady hand.

But not the garrote.

It's an ungodly death for an old soldier
like me who fought in the emperor's wars.

Let the record show
the soldier will die by the garrote

for insolence against his superior
and mutiny.

Let it also show that soldier Aresti
requested to die by arquebus or sword

and that such a favor
was not granted.

Let it show.

Iturbe,

the rope.

Marchena,

give him the garrote.

Good luck.

What town are you from?

Bermeo.

On your knees.

Think of Bermeo, my friend.

"Sacred land."

"Mother jungle."

"Great spirit."

They say not only the roofs
are made of gold.

Also the walls and floors
of the houses.

And the mosquitoes.

That keeps out the bugs
and bad thoughts.

Who are you to speak
of bad thoughts?

You think I don't know you see
that Navarran every night? What's his name?

Iturbe.

Iturbe...

I'm a maidservant, we can do things
a lady cannot.

He's only a soldier...

Yes.

But he stares at me.

Like all of them.

They all stare at you.

He looks at me differently.

Arquebuses!

- Are you sure?
- Yes, nearby.

Where?

It's Medrano's men.

You and you, check the rearguard
for scouts. Let's go!

Go with them.

By the nails of Christ.

Jezebel.

Now I have not only the soldiers
against me.

I have God as well.

I know him.

He's Achache.

One of Medrano's explorers.

How far away are Medrano's men?

Tell me how far away they are
or I'll kill you.

He prefers death to treason.

Leave him to me.

He'll talk.

What did you say to him?

If he talks, his wife will be free
when he dies.

If not, she'll be mine when he dies.
Young woman.

How far away are they?

One day.

What do you think Medrano will do?
Will he come straight for us?

No. Bad terrain to attack.
He'll seek advantage.

We here.

Medrano here.

He'll walk fast.

Here.

To small mountain.

When he above, we below...

he'll attack.

How do you know?

He knows.

Better go here...

and trick him.

Will lose days.

But...?

Caribe territory.

Shitty jungle.

Soldier. No get angry with jungle.

If you against her,

she put hand in your chest
and pull out heart.

And then take sword.
And you not soldier anymore.

You crazy man.

What's wrong?

Caribes.

Hostile or peaceful?

All Indians hostile with soldiers.
This is their land.

I don't see any Indians.

But I won't argue with Mediamano.

He sees and hears things we miss.

No, no!

If they wanted to kill you,
they already would have.

We might be able to pass
without fighting.

They more afraid of us
than us of them.

Very afraid of this.

And your dog.

I agree with Mediamano.

Fine, we'll pass without shooting.

If they attack, fire the arquebuses first.

Spread the word.

Let's go!

Lieutenant!

Let that be the last time you give
a combat order without my permission.

- Understood?
- Understood, sir.

Let's go!

First they'll kill Don Gonzalo,
then you.

You need to find a protector,
and it can't be your soldier.

Who knows?

I do, and so do you.

- He has no command.
- He will.

When? There's no time,
we can't wait.

- The lieutenant...
- Not the lieutenant.

He'd treat me like one of those Indians
he lives with in Puerto Cristo.

Better a live Indian than a dead Christian.

You have to do me a favor.

What?

You're crazy.

Hello, soldier.

Madam.

Come.

Why did you want to see me?

To thank you.

You've saved my life twice.

And to tell you that I'm not like
the other soldiers think.

I know.

I'm not a peasant either.

I haven't been for many years.

Where are you from?

Trujillo.

But I left when I was very young.

I've never gone back,
and probably never will.

Why did you leave?

I wanted to see the world.

See the world...

How lucky.

I've only seen the farmhouse
in Baztán,

Puerto Cristo and this.

I wasn't allowed to see Seville
when we set sail. Have you?

What's it like?

It has it all.

Women too, I suppose.

But none like you.

I'm a married woman, soldier.

I know.

How I envy you.

Yes.

Ever since I was little, I've always wanted
to see new things.

But I couldn't, my father arranged
my marriage

to Don Gonzalo when I turned 14

and since then I haven't...

If I'm lucky and make it
out of here alive,

soon I'll be nothing but an old woman
who's read "Tirant lo Blanch" 100 times.

What are you doing here?

"I'm a man of low standing
without a title."

You've read "Tirant lo Blanch."

You're a strange man, soldier.

Because I read "Tirant lo Blanch?"

That and for other reasons.

Is he bothering you?

No.

We were talking about
his home town, Lieutenant.

I'm glad.

Don Gonzalo requires your presence.

Well.

What are you doing?

- I don't know what you mean.
- Yes, you do.

She's your captain's wife!

And yours too.

How long will you defend him?

- I don't need anyone to defend me.
- Yes, you do.

Very much so.

I'm sorry, Sergeant.

Don't be.
And stay alert.

This is no time to lose your mind
over a woman.

Not even her.

Otherwise the lieutenant...
will kill you.

And me too.

He's been obsessed with her
ever since he saw her in Puerto Cristo.

I don't want to go to Navarra.
It's too cold, I'll get chilblain.

Romero said the tuna in Zahara...

Yes, of course.

What's in Zahara?
Tuna and whores.

You want me watching you
all day?

- Then Osuna.
- Well...

A snake bit La Parda!

Lie down.

Parda, what's wrong?

What happened?

I can't breathe!

No, no. It's okay.

It's okay, Parda.

- No, no, no. Please.
-I want them to bury me.

Bury her!

We're supposed to be in a hurry.

That was the reason
we didn't bury our dead.

Bury her.

Romero and Carvajal, bury her.

The rest of us will continue.

Brave enough to give
old soldiers the garrote

and too cowardly to govern a whore.
This is bad.

Murmuring is for women.

Men speak out loud
and to your face.

Men also give orders,
not take them from a woman.

- Son of a bitch!
- Lower your weapon.

Son of a bitch!

Lower your weapon
or you'll have to deal with me!

We've fought together,
don't force me.

Nobody's giving me the garrote
like Aresti for speaking the truth.

- So get out of my way.
- Romero.

Get out of my way.

Move or I swear by the horns of Christ
that I'll kill you too!

Marchena.

Give him the garrote.

Look at me.

You'll die like a soldier.

Let's go!

Let's not waste any more time.

The blasphemer is already
burning in hell.

Bastard!

Evil is taking control of you,
soldier.

I can see it in your eyes.

What do you see in mine?

In yours, my son,

I see lust and desire for the wife
of another man.

Father,

I think there are other souls
in need.

One of these days I'll kill him.

- And I'll help you.
- Don't speak madness.

He's God's representative on Earth.

If he is, then let God come down here.

I'll kill Him too.

28th of April.

The certainty that Don Juan Medrano
is hot on our tail

has forced Lieutenant Gorriamendi
to send Mínguez and Rodríguez

guided by the Indian Jeromillo
to make fires and leave signals

to mislead our pursuers.

But that's not our only worry.

Don Gonzalo's lack of vigor
and his weakness with Doña Ana's whims

agitate the soldiers.

Rumors of mutiny
against the leadership abound.

Today soldier Virués died
of the Black Vomit.

You. I have two things
to say to you.

I'm listening.

The first, that I, Juan de Gorriamendi,
am a soldier searching for gold.

Like me.

No.

You fight like a soldier,

but you don't think like
the rest of us.

Nor do you seek what they do.

And what do I seek,
if I may ask?

You seek fame and fortune.

I thought we all did,
you included.

I seek gold.

And gold and fame
don't always mix well.

That's good to know.

What was the second thing
you wanted to tell me?

I imagine when you crossed
the ocean, you were hit by storms.

We lost three ships in one.

Too bad.

But then you know that sometimes,
for the ship not to sink,

you have to throw anything
necessary overboard.

To keep the ship afloat.

Do you understand?

I understand perfectly.

And I don't agree.

Right, I imagined.

That's why I wanted to tell you
the second thing.

If you get in my way,

you won't find the companion
you've had until now,

but you will find the soldier.

Is that clear?

Good.

Count me out.

It's Jeromillo.

What about Mínguez and Rodríguez?

Dead in ambush.
Medrano's soldiers. I flee.

Where's Medrano?

Medrano wrong path.

Will lose two or three days.

Good.

That's good news.

Sergeant, pick a spot
to set up camp.

Go on.

Sergeant...

I don't have time to chat
right now.

Mediamano and Martín Dávila
will patrol while we set up camp.

Why did you bring me here?

So that you're safe.

Safe from what?

From getting killed.

Sergeant doesn't want you
killed over woman.

If you go back to camp,
you will get lost in jungle and die.

Wait.

It's better for you and for woman.

Gonzalo, no...

Gonzalo!

Damn traitor!

Bury him!

I'll bury him.

We fought together,
I owe it to him.

1st of May.

Dawn breaks on the morning
after Don Gonzalo de Baztán's murder.

The reasons for his death
are veiled behind fog

and darkness that foreshadow
more misfortune and betrayal.

A bad omen seems to be
surrounding the expedition.

The immense jungle reminds us every day

that man is but a bridge between stable
eternity and the flow of time.

Today Mad Dog died,
hunter of hostile Indians.

By the lieutenant's order,
his part will be shared by the men

who remain when we find
the gold.

He's the captain now,
and she belongs to him.

Forget her.

From Doña Ana.

To remember her,
now that she can't see you.

I want to see her.

You've got balls.

Martín...

Please, I don't want anything horrible
to happen to you because of me.

After tonight,
you have to stay away from me.

One night isn't enough, my lady.

Don't call me lady.

I'm not a lady.

I'm nothing.

Don't say that.

I'm sorry I couldn't help you.

I'm sorry too.

But I didn't know.

I wanted to survive...

What's done is done.

Torture yourself no more.

That's it.

Only one night.

I'll want more nights.

I think I'll want every night.

Better one night than none.

We can't make any noise.

I know.

Treat me well.

You have to go.

You have to go.

It gets rid of bad spirits.

Have you got a wife?

No.

Dead.

I'm sorry.

I can't remember mine's face
anymore.

Soon it will be ten years
since I last saw her.

In Barbastro.

- Barbastro your town?
- Yes.

In Aragón.

And your town?
What's it called?

It's gone.

Burnt.

By us?

Here I am.

I just went in my tent
and noticed a strange smell.

Like a dead man.

That's your smell, isn't it?

I don't think so, because I'm alive.

Not for long.

You're not going to kill her, are you?

No.

I like women.

It's Christ, my child.

Christ.

Soldiers...

Our mission is not only
to find the gold.

We also have to convert these savages.

The girl will stay with us

to receive all of God's grace.

Let the fornicators be warned.

Stay away from her.

She now belongs to God, our Lord.

To God and to you, bastard.

Gold.

Mediamano!

She says one day from here

Castilian soldier
who was looking for gold.

It could be a survivor from
Tomás de Ulúa's expedition.

Labastida said on his deathbed
that he was the only survivor.

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe.

By Christ and the Triana quarter!

This is Juan Tomás de Ulúa's grave.

A good commander.

He tried to lead us
to the City of Gold, but...

fate wanted something else.

How did you survive?

I was so badly hurt that the Caribes
thought I was dead.

When they left,

she saved me.

And these children?
Christians?

They're my children.

That's enough.

Yes, this...

This is the large river.

And two days away, to the north,
the mountain.

Behind it, Tezutlán.

What is this?

It's called the Isle of Women.

An island where no men live,
only women.

Once a year, they bring men
and lie with them.

If they have boys,

they kill them. If they have girls,
they keep them.

They teach them combat.

They're warriors.
They fight ahead of the Indians

as captains.

They say they're very white
and tall and they have very long hair,

braided and tied back
around their heads.

In combat, one of them
is worth ten Indians.

Your face

looks familiar to me.

I'm convinced

that I've coincided with you
somewhere else.

It's possible, I'm an old soldier.

The sack of Rome.

We might have fought together.

On the steps of Saint Peter's Basilica.

Yes.

It was there. We slaughtered
many Swiss guards that day.

Yes, we did.

- And bishops and friars.
- That's right.

- What is your name?
- Bastaurrés.

Sergeant Bastaurrés.

Wait.

This is the royal standard.

Don Tomás de Ulúa defended it

to his last breath.

I'm certain

that you will make better use of it
than me.

Are you sure you don't want
to come with us?

Completely sure, my son.

When she saved my life,
I felt...

that the gods were giving me
another chance.

The gods...

Yes.

I thought you were still Christian.

I am.

But in my own way.

You think this life
is for a Christian?

For this Christian, yes.

I live in peace, I offend no one
and no one offends me.

I command no one
and no one commands me.

I'm an old man simply waiting
for death, nothing more,

nothing less.

Meanwhile, I live here...

with my wife and children.

And my dead companions will always be
here with me in this jungle.

What?

The birds

have returned.

They always leave
when they see soldiers.

They know they only bring tragedy.

No, this one is better.

What words do you draw?

The life of Manuel Requena.

How he came here from Triana
and decided to stay and start a family.

What did she say?

She says that she wants
to have your child.

A child?

With me?

Why?

She says your hand guided by gods.

God...

No.

- Martín.
- What?

Tell me the poem.

What poem?

The bull that goes to the desert.

The bull that goes to the desert.

"Like the bull that flees to the desert

when defeated by his kin,

and waits until his strength returns

to destroy the one
who humiliated him.

Thus must I stay away from thee,

for your face confused my might.

And I must not return
until I am free

of the fear that impedes my delight."

You don't deserve to be baptized,
sinner!

Sinner!

Bastard!

We need God on our side.

Behave yourself.

Good luck.

He's been leaving signals
for Medrano.

They burnt down the village,
they're right behind us.

They don't know how many
of us there are.

So?

- Give me some men.
- What for?

To be the dogs
who scatter the hares.

Take Iturbe and four more.

I'll need the lady as well.

Why?

Soldiers are distracted
by a beautiful woman.

That's very true.

If the lady accepts.

All right.

But I want a weapon.

You're now prisoners of the king.

- Who's in charge?
- I am.

Who are you?

Martín Dávila, king's soldier
and acting sergeant.

And the rest of the expedition?

Dead.

Slit all of their throats.

Should we kill the woman too?

No, not her.

She's a widow and needs
to be consoled.

What should we do with them?

My opinion is those who want
to come with us, let them.

Those who don't can leave
and try to reach Puerto Cristo.

If any of them stay,
we'll have to share the gold with them.

They're companions in arms
who were obeying orders.

Any one of us could be
in their situation.

They also wanted to slit our throats
and take our gold.

They fought well.

- They deserve to die well.
- Sir.

There's enough gold for everyone.

I think we could use
a few more soldiers.

All right.

It shall be done.

Those who want to join us,
step forward.

Those who want to return
to Puerto Cristo,

leave.

Name?

Juan Alonso.

From León.

Do you remember me?

He won't be consoling
any more widows.

Under Gorriamendi's orders
and with the consent of all the soldiers,

in order to shorten the path
to the gold,

we entered territory
belonging to Indian archers.

Indians Labastida's map called
"The Three Sin Savages.“

They don't believe in God,
they're sodomites and they eat human flesh.

May God, our crossbows
and our arquebuses protect us.

Listen, soldiers.

Young Pedro,

Roncal, Castro.

You'll go ahead to scout the terrain.

You're from Trujillo, right?

If I don't come back,
my share of the gold goes to you.

On the condition

that when you go back to Spain,
you go to Zafra and give it to my mother.

If my mother has died,
you can keep it.

Here.

If they attack you,

try not to be taken alive.

Despite the grudges, ambition
and disputes,

and that we were killing each other
when there was no enemy,

we were soldiers,
comrades in arms.

Singular ties and reason enough
to not abandon Castro,

Roncal and young Pedro.

And though we were certain
of their torment and demise,

we decided to find them, bury them

and avenge them.

How far away are they?

Not far away. They're here.

Take cover!

Hold on!

Why are they waiting
to attack us?

For fear of poison arrows

to enter hearts of your soldiers.

Sing.

Sing.

Mother...

Mother, I come from the poplar trees.

I saw them shaking in the breeze.

The poplars in Seville where

I saw my friend so fair.

Mother, I come from the poplar trees.

I saw them shaking in the breeze.

The poplars in Seville where

I saw my friend so fair.

Mother, I come from the poplar trees.

I saw them shaking in the breeze.

The poplars in Seville where

I saw my friend so fair.

Are they gone?

Yes.

Now they know the soldiers
will fight.

They'll return to village.

To defend women and children.

And how do they fight?

They like to deceive.

Take cover!

Quickly!

If we don't get out of here,

they'll kill us one by one.

How many arquebuses have we got?

Six.

The fence is moving.

Remain calm, gentlemen.

We're the emperor's soldiers.

Fire.

Fire.

Now!

Iturbe, Barbate,

find the women and children.

Stop.

They were hiding in a well
under one of the huts.

Kill them all, in the name of God!

What are you doing, Martín?

No.

What do you mean, no?

Get out of the way

or I'll kill you right now.

Damn Indian bastard!

He was only an Indian.

It's time for us to leave this place.

After great difficulties we have left
the land of Three Sins,

where we left young Pedro,
Castilian;

Roncal, Navarran;
Castro, Extremaduran;

Salas, Aragonese;
Zabala, Navarran;

Joao, Portuguese;
Panizo, Extremaduran;

Areta, Carvajal and five who recently
joined us, all Andalusians.

Our Indian guide was also killed,
who we knew as Mediamano,

but whose real name was Chima,
from the Chocóe tribe.

He taught me words of his pretty
language and customs of his race.

May he rest in peace.

Will the emperor read
what you're writing?

I hope so.

Am I in it?

Do you know how to read?

A little.

Look.

Here.

"Don Gonzalo...

de Baztán...

accompanied...

by his servant,

Marchena."

When we find the gold,

I'm not going back to Spain,
I'm staying here.

Why?

Because if the emperor of Spain
reads that,

everyone will know I'm a servant.

And if I stay here, everyone will know me
as Don Diego de Marchena.

Then you have to learn
to read and write well.

Okay.

May 28th.

The day God abandoned us,

or to be exact,
abandoned the last man

to have Him at his side.

The priest fell in the swamp!

He was relieving himself
and he fell.

I would have liked
to have killed him myself.

My father was a priest.

Stay on the lookout.

For what?

Gorriamendi and his men.

They'll take advantage
of any slip-up to kill us.

They can smell the gold
and they don't want to share it.

Before they attack us,
they'll separate us.

Who is with us?

Us three.

And the new guy?

Maybe Iturbe.

They won't want any witnesses.

Stay alert.

We're half a league away
from the large river.

In that direction.

Martín Dávila, Barbate.

Go ahead to scout the terrain.

Let's go!

What are you doing, Lieutenant?

Killing you.

I'm the king's representative.

For exactly that reason.

Or did you think I was going
to share the gold with him?

He doesn't deserve it.

Son of a bitch!

Bitch!

The gold isn't only yours.

This will hurt me
more than you, soldier.

This military tribunal
composed of myself

as troop leader,

acting sergeant Martín Dávila,

and the soldiers known as
Iturbe and Barbate,

have decided to sentence Lieutenant
Juan de Gorriamendi to death for mutiny...

and treason.

Marchena the executioner will carry out
the sentence in the king's name.

I'm not an executioner
anymore.

Kill me yourself.
Soldier to soldier.

Untie me, I want to cross myself.

By your word?

By my word.

Hurry up, Lorenzo.

I've never liked waiting.

You're the one who writes now,
right?

Put that I'm not an executioner
anymore.

We're going to cross the river.

Let's not waste time.

June 1st.

I'm writing what will
most certainly be my last lines.

I've passed my notes onto soldier
Martín Dávila, native of Trujillo,

for him to deliver with the agreed amount
of gold to our king the emperor.

I chose him because he's from
Extremadura, a frontier man,

filled with the spirit of discovery,
just like Cortés.

If my writings reach the right hands
and bring me fame, I welcome it.

If the creator has other intentions,

then I will pass like a withered flower
with no fame at all.

My fame will disappear in the land.

Two Indian tribes fighting each other,
there are a lot of them.

Hide.

Stop, stop.

Now I order you to leave me here.

I can't keep up,
I'm holding you back.

The gold is near.

You need to find it.

Without it, you're dead men.

You'll be hanged.

Now it's your turn to carry it.

Martín...

Don't let the gold drive you mad.

Give the king his fifth.

That way all will be forgiven.

Everything.

No.

I believe in another life.

You want me to do it?

It's not worth it.

It's almost over.

I smell the sea.

Gold.

Today,

the 4th of June,

we arrived at Tezutlán.

For 62 days

we crossed the cruel jungle,

mocked and ridiculed by fortune.

We fought mercilessly against
the natives of these lands

and we killed each other,

blinded by the gold.

Before finalizing our memoirs
as requested by the scribe Ulzama,

I've decided that, just like Asia
and Europe were given names of women,

that the peaks from which
we spotted Tezutlán

will be known from now on

as the Doña Ana Mountain.

I also leave record
that on the 8th of April

forty men and women
left Puerto Cristo.

Today, only two of us remain.

There was no gold.

It's fucking glazed mud.

Like pottery from Andujar.

Right.

Martín.

Everything we did...

was for nothing.

They say

across this sea there's a place
some call China

and others Catay.

And that it's the route
of silk and pearls.

It's much bigger
than the one in Barbate.

And it's ours.

I, Martín Dávila,

native of Trujillo,

soldier and discoverer,

take possession of this
sea ocean and its shores

in the name of Carlos the Emperor,

king of the world
and the lands of Spain.

For Pepe Salcedo, teacher and friend.

GOLD