The Seven Serpents Trilogy (19 page)

The dwarf, who stood at my side, his back turned, said, “The odor is copal. And the cloud that you see is not a cloud but the Temple of Kukulcán thrusting up ward through the smoke from a thousand burning ves sels. Do you recognize it from your previous life? No? Well, you should, for it is said that it has not changed in many centuries, not since your departure from these shores.”

The dwarf glanced over his shoulder. Through the slits his eyes squinted up at me with the sly confidence of a man who holds a winning card that he has not yet played.

He said, “I repeat, Señor Capitán, that we two are brothers. Together we rule this kingdom or together we perish. We have convinced two of the priests of your godhead. Now we must convince the populace. In this, the stallion will be of great importance. Therefore, be prepared to mount as we reach the next promontory and come within the sight of those who throng the shore.”

He left the platform, crawled forward to where six warriors were wielding paddles, and said something to them. Evidently he asked them to change their pace, for at once we slowed down. The long line of canoes fol lowed slowly in our wake, drums and shakers causing a hellish din.

The canoe behind us drew abreast momentarily, and Cantú beckoned for the keg. Then the dwarf returned and set to work with the gunpowder.

“It will awaken the dead,” he told me, “and astound the living. I plan to set it off the moment before you ride ashore. It may kill a dozen or so, but this will make it all the more astounding.”

He must have seen the expression on my face, for he quickly explained. “The Maya don't look upon death as we Spaniards do. They have much of it. To them, it is a friend. And blood that flows, especially when it flows copiously, fascinates them. You will see much of it before the day is over.”

“About the explosion...” I said.

“You need not concern yourself with it,” the dwarf broke in. “It will take place out of your sight.”

“If there's such an explosion, I will not go ashore.”

The dwarf turned and, seeing that I meant my words, assured me that he would exercise great care. “No one will be killed; no more than a stray dog,” he said.

Watching him as he went on fussing with a contrap tion that was similar to the one I had made, I wondered what strange dream, what towering ambition, had prompted him to risk his life on the nightmare he was now engaged in.

I was emboldened to say, flattering him with a title, “You take grave chances, Don Guillermo. Why?”

He answered me promptly. “
Dinero
, señor. Money. Excelentes, castellanos, cruzados, doubloons, ducats, maravedis. Money in all its marvelous values and forms.”

“There are no excelentes or ducats or castellanos on this island,” I said. “I know this from my friend, Ceela Yaxche. The natives use cacao beans for money.”

“True, Señor Capitán. But cacao can be bartered for precious stones. Emeralds from Tikal. From beyond Tikal come pearls. And there is much gold in lands farther to the south. To the west, the Aztecs have silver in vast quantities. I will trade for these things. Pardon me, señor. We, you and I, will trade for these things. In time we will gather a storeroom stacked with fat chests filled with treasure.”

“You risk your life for this?”

“Trout from the stream,” the dwarf replied, “cannot be taken in dry breeches.”

He went on with his preparations, pouring a handful of powder into a fuse, which he then sealed with bees wax. He said, “You will soon find the position of lord and god tiresome. You will become weary of cross-eyed savages swarming about you. What happens at this time, Capitán? What do you do? Flee with empty arms?”

“I have not planned that far ahead. But offhand, the idea of filling a storehouse with treasure taken from this country does not appeal to me. Indeed, it seems loathsome.”

The dwarf gave out one of his small, thin chuckles. “I share with the Emperor Tiberius the thought that the part of a good shepherd is to shear his flock, not to fleece them. Señor Capitán, you and I will be good Tiberian shepherds.”

“How many can we shear?” I joked with him.

“Twenty thousand.”

“On the island?”

“Thirty thousand.”

“All pagans?”

“All.”

“Who have never heard of Christ?”

“Not one.”

“You have made no effort to spread our Catholic faith?”

“None. Do you think my bowels are made of brass? But there are more pressing issues. One is Moctezuma the Second, emperor of the Aztecs. His hordes have overrun the mainland. Most of its cities pay him yearly tribute in goods and gold. And his hunger for slaves is insatiable. In the last year, our road weasels report, he sacrificed in one day twenty thousand slaves. Three months ago he sent an army down here to collect slaves from us. But his army was not used to fighting on the sea, so we drowned most of them and took the rest prisoners.”

“This emperor who has twenty thousand hearts re moved in a single day,” I said, thinking for the first time as one who was responsible for the lives of others, “where does he rule?”

“In Mexico—Tenochtitlan, a sky city, situated in the mountains at a height of more than two leagues, some four hundred leagues to the northwest.”

“Then he's not a neighbor.”

“No, but he has sharp eyes which are fixed upon us, the only city he has not conquered. His army will be back one of these days.”

“Who leads this army? Moctezuma?”

“Of course not. He has a palace of fifty rooms, all stuffed with gold. He has an aviary with ten thousand birds. A zoo twenty times the size of ours. Fountains, streams, floating gardens, lakes. And 315 wives. Why would he lead an army and risk his royal neck?”

 

O
UR FLOTILLA CONTINUED NORTHWARD AT A STEADY PACE TO THE
sound of music and dipping paddles. On our way we passed a stone marker, carved with colored glyphs, which, the dwarf informed me, had been erected to cel ebrate the victory over Moctezuma's hordes.

“Prisoners from that triumph will be sacrificed to day,” Cantú said.

He scrambled forward to the bow of the canoe, spoke something to one of the warriors, and scrambled back. He sidled up, stole a quick glance at my skimpy attire.

“Tomorrow,
hombre
, I will see that you are properly clothed. Feathered headdresses by the score, jaguar-skin cloaks, snakeskin sandals, amber bracelets, necklaces of the most precious stones. You may also wish to have your nosepierced for turquoiseplugs and your teeth filed and setwith jade.”

I made no reply to this last suggestion, feeling that it did not require an answer.

“But we have a more serious problem,” the dwarf said. “Our Council of Lords is concerned with a coming war with the city of Tikan. The
nacom
in charge of the army sent out three road weasels early last week. These spies returned to report that Tikan is preparing for battle. They are collecting a large store of hornets' nests.”

The dwarf paused to flick away a pink insect that was bent on getting into his ear.

“Were you ever bitten by a hornet?” he asked. “Yes? Then you are acquainted with the fiery sting. A hornet's nest is a deadly weapon. Tikan has collected over a hun dred. Furthermore, their army is led by one of our countrymen, a Don Luis de Arroyo.”

I was not surprised to hear the name spoken. There was, I had always thought, a good chance that Don Luis had somehow survived. My last memory of him on the morning of the shipwreck was the moment when he pushed aside the barber's hand to save himself. He was a man of great determination. Once ashore, he could have managed to make his way into the confidence of the Indians and talk them into an adventurous war.

Calmly I said, “I know Don Luis de Arroyo. We sailed together from Seville. He owned the caravel that sank, the
Santa Margarita
.”

“You know him well, then. Tell me, is he brave? Can he lead Indians into battle?”

“He is a fearless man. And ruthless.”

“Xpan's death left us unprepared and without a leader. The Council of Lords would prefer to fight later, when the harvest is over, when our weaponry is in better shape, and the stars are in conjunction. Do you have influence with Arroyo? Could you persuade him to delay his attack?”

“No,” I said. “If he knew I was here and in a position of power, it would only encourage him. He would be devious. He would pretend friendship, but only to at tack us when we least expect it.”

A harsh judgment, but Don Luis de Arroyo had earned it.

“You favor an attack, then? As soon as the stars are favorable?”

“I would not wait on the stars.”

I was astounded at myself in urging war upon Don Luis. Astounded that suddenly I had spoken, not as Julián Escobar, a seminarian, a lover of peace, a follower of meek St. Francis, but as the powerful god Kukulcán.

The dwarf thought for a while. “You had cannon aboard the
Santa Margarita?
”

“Many. Three bombards, five brass falconets, others.”

“How deep does the
Santa Margarita
lie?”

“At low tide, fifteen feet.”

“We have pearl divers here on the island who can dive that deep and stay under water for as long as four minutes at a time. Long enough to fasten ropes around the cannon so that they can be dragged up. With our keg of gunpowder, we will be more than a match for their hundred hornets' nests.”

The dwarf, though he was standing near the edge of the platform, gave one of his little jigs, laughed, then fell sober again.

“We have lesser problems that require your counsel,” he said. “For one, there is at present a feud between our three ball teams. You have not seen this game. It is not played in Spain. The players are heavily protected by leather padding, scuffle with each other over a ball as big as a melon. The ball is hard, but bounces. The object is to put it into stone rings at either side of the court. It is…”

“What is the feud about?” I broke in, for I could see that he was devoted to the game and was bent on wind ing away. “What will I have to do with the feud?”

“Everything,
hombre.
The Jaguars and the Hawks are troublemakers. The Eagles...”

Cantú, who favored the Eagles, went on further to de scribe the game and furnish the names of each of the players, their individual merits, ages, and sizes.

“A fine group of young men,” he said, concluding his description of the Eagles. “You will soon be cheering for them, I am sure. And also you will admonish the Jaguars and the Hawks, who have swollen
cabezas
, to speak civilly when spoken to. And quit strutting about the city, frightening people and getting into brawls. This should be one of the first things you do, señor.”

A commanding, peremptory tone had come into the man's voice. It was annoying. I suddenly foresaw the day when he would be giving me orders instead of suggestions.

“Guillermo Cantú,” I said, “henceforth will you ad dress me not as
señor
or
hombre
or
capitán,
but by my proper name.”

He turned and glanced up. There was an insolent glint in his eyes.

“What name is that?”

“The name you so thoughtfully bestowed upon me and insisted that I assume.”

“All of it?”

“Yes, Señor Cantú, all of it.”

“You are not a god yet.”

“Nor are you,” I answered.

The dwarf came forth with a false smile, smoothed down the feathers on his headdress.

“The time approaches,” he said, “when we shall know who is a god and who is not.”

“Hurry the moment,” I said, “and in the event that your scheme does succeed, there is something I wish you to do. Send canoes to the place where you found me and bring back the girl, Ceela Yaxche, who lives nearby.”

“It is too soon to think of such things,” the dwarf objected. “Here we teeter on an abyss, and you think of a girl. She is comely, from what I saw of her, but the city is full of comely girls. I can collect fifty in an hour.”

“Bring her,” I said.

“What if she is needed in the family? Most girls are.”

“She
is
needed. So bring the family. All of them.”

The dwarf was unhappy.

“And in the hut,” I added, “you will find during the day, not at night, a coatimundi. His name is Valiente.”

“We have hundreds of the pests in the jungle and many in the streets.”

“Bring him,” I said. “Bring Ceela. Bring everybody. And send the canoes today.”

Grudgingly, Cantú bowed.

 

T
HROUGH AN OPENING ALMOST HIDDEN FROM SEAWARD, SO NARROW
that I could reach out and touch its walls, we entered a small lagoon guarded on two sides by high walls. At the far end of the lagoon, at a distance of half a league or less, stood the City of the Seven Serpents.

The dazzling sight held my tongue.

The dwarf said, “Three years ago when, as a cast away, I first came upon the city, it rendered me speechless, too. Speechless I remain. There is nothing in Spain to match it. Nor in France. I have traveled far. Only in the land of Egypt will you find edifices such as greet us now.”

Before me, hacked out of the surrounding jungle, stood a central plaza, and facing it on the left and right, two pyramid-like temples that rose to thrice the height of the tallest trees. Broad steps ascended them on the two sides that I could see, ending at the lofty top in a terrace and an ornate structure that the dwarf informed me was the god house.

“With luck, we will stand there soon.”

There was a stone landing at the far end of the la goon, where a fleet of canoes was moored. Beyond, leading to the plaza and the two temples, I saw a wide thoroughfare thronged with people.

“Stupendous,” said the dwarf. ‘The greatest gathering since the feast day of lordly Itzamná. They have come from all parts of the island.”