The Jaguar (29 page)

The horseman looked on in terror and tried to extract his legs, but froze as the bloodied club was rested upon his metallic chest. Two warriors pulled him out; forcing him upright, even though he was too broken to stand. Mulac had drawn alongside and was presented with the Conquistador's helmet. He removed his plumes and forced it down. The alien sensation of cold steel mixed with the pounding of his wound, but he smiled as the throng chanted his name again. The man was stripped of breast-plate, tunic, vest and breaches. The unnatural whiteness of his skin conveyed only weakness, and the scars past conflict and disease. Warriors took it in turns to poke at his flesh, at first timidly, but then with increasing violence. The rotund noble held up his hand. This curiosity of war would be paraded through the streets and only the priests could determine his ultimate fate.

Should they pursue their foe? An argument exploded from litter to litter over the heads of the army. The young and the brave edged forward, as those who thought the city safe turned their attention to the dead and the wounded. After one last, loud appeal faces instinctively returned to Mulac. Silently he removed the head piece of his enemy, and placed it upon his lap. The decision was made.

White froth dripped from the mouth and the sides of the captain's exhausted mount. Jeronimo scanned the low skyline beyond him, but nothing else moved. Nothing also needed to be said, though his second-in-command struggled through exhaustion to speak. Jeronimo raised his hand and turned his own horse back towards camp. There would be no more fighting this day. They would pack and return to the north, taking with them the news that the peoples of this new world were no longer afraid. One day, he knew, they would be driven to return by the same thirst for power that had already carried them across an ocean. Then it would be at the head of a mighty army but, for now, the Maya could have their petty victory.

A low murmur had spread through the camp as the two Spanish riders trotted into view. Native troops began to slip away into the undergrowth. Within a day the remaining conquistadors would be alone. Within two, they would be dead.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The Lake

“Careful, children!” Laura baulked at her own teacherly tone. Then she looked in frustration at Marcus, who seemed blithely unaware of the dangers posed by the rickety old watch-tower before them.

The boardwalk had proved less of a relaxing meander than anticipated, with both Ethan and Jackie breaking suddenly through the rotten slats. Jackie had a nasty gash beneath the thick bandage on her left leg and, possibly, a few remaining splinters. She was walking with a heavy limp and Darryl's assistance, but was cheerfully determined to continue. Ethan, fortunately, had nothing worse than a wet boot. Only Marcus had really been affected. Once again, things had gone wrong early. Once again, people would be wondering why he hadn't anticipated the problem. He in turn was worrying why Steven, usually so punctilious over safety, seemed not to have recced this route. Both of these concerns merged into an increasing sense of trepidation. That was why the children were halfway up the tower before he noticed.

Hannah peered over the stair rail, spat lustily then disappeared with an evil grin. John Tanner poked dubiously at the bottom step with a walking stick.

“I think we should limit the tower to four people at a time.” Marcus belatedly attempted to regain control and started to bound skywards. “Cesar, perhaps you should follow?”

The two reached the platform only seconds after the children. All seemed in order: the steps, floors and barriers were strong. “I can see the sea, I can see the sea,” Lloyd chanted, with childish glee. Whilst Marcus waved the others up, Cesar gently corrected Lloyd.

“It's not the sea, just a very large lake. Tomorrow we will be crossing it in our canoes. Beyond it there is a swamp, then a lagoon and then the sea. You will experience all these places on our journey.”

Hannah had spotted movement in the trees. She was pointing vigorously and appealing for attention.

“Spider monkeys,” informed Cesar, with an air of surprise. “You are lucky to see them. Look, there, can you see the mother with the baby on its belly?”

The troop leapt in and out of cover as it traversed the canopy and headed deeper into the rainforest. A juvenile male, the last to pass by, stopped briefly on a branch, scratching its stomach. Felicity flapped around the tower with her rucksack in hand, searching for Ethan's camera. Laura was last to ascend and glad to see at least one animal. It was looking back down into the forest. Laura followed its gaze and was sure she glimpsed something tall and very possibly human, heading away from them. She shook her head in self-disgust: the jungle was making her paranoid.

Cesar was warming to the role of dutiful guide. “The lake you can see is fed by underground streams. The water is clear and the lake deep, so it looks dark blue. It hasn't changed since Mayan times, when it was the port for the Kingdom of Coba, but the jungle is different. It only grows here now as this land is protected. In the past it was farmland. You can still see the field boundaries and walls beneath the trees. Our path follows the old harbour road from the city.”

Once again, David was fascinated by the butterflies, here a profusion of colours and iridescence, spread, like confetti in the breeze, across a green wall of leaves. “Why so many, do you think?” he asked Cesar.

“The trees are happy: butterflies are a gift from the forest. If the weather is bad then the colour disappears. You tourists are like the butterflies. Each year you come, always colourful, always different, but sometimes many and sometimes only few.”

David indicated an insect with striking parallel bands of colour. “If I was a butterfly, I'd be that one.”

“Good choice, that's a Bluewing. The orange one is a Silverspot.”

“And this is a Hotshot.” Hannah cast a handful of peanuts into the canopy, spattering the leaves and sending butterflies into a multi-coloured confusion of wings. “Wow!” She delved deeper into her packet to ensure a larger handful for her next salvo.

“Oi!” It was Jackie, sitting nursing her leg below, who had just been bombed. “I thought those cheeky monkeys had moved on?”

“No, still here.” Hannah grinned broadly from the platform, but decided against another launch. Surreptitiously, she emptied her handful into David's open bag.

“Come on, this jungle's cool. Let's see what else there is.” Lloyd was already bounding down the steps.

Marcus caught Laura's eye, grinned sheepishly then shrugged for no discernible reason. The party began to drift back to earth. Sharon Tanner and David remained behind, attempting to get close-up shots as the insects resettled. Laura waited patiently.

“Do you mind?” David held out his camera then posed self-consciously, peering towards the horizon, hands-on-hips. The image was so funny Laura had to fight her giggles to hold the lens steady. Like a great white hunter with one foot on a lion, she wanted to say, but didn't. After a couple of snaps, she handed back the camera.

“Now, may I take one of you?” David looked suddenly serious and it was Laura's turn to feel self-conscious. She flicked at her hair then stood straight, smoothing the sides of her jungle pants. David grinned broadly and Laura reciprocated. He was so pleased with the resulting image that he showed it to her on the screen. She was not disappointed. It was an image she had seen often, but only in dreams. Why had she doubted herself? She felt so happy she could have hugged David. Instead, she turned coquettishly and skipped back down the steps.

The track was now a narrow, semi-overgrown strip of mud and moss that could have been an animal trail. Few from the trickle of tourists who made it to the tower went any further. Damp, clinging vegetation mixed with the sweat of high humidity, and forced the group into single file. Bird and animal calls grew, and casual conversation lapsed. The world slipped towards darkness and people became aware of movement in the branches above. Bugs hovered close to exposed skin and shadows lingered over the undergrowth. Felicity screamed.

“Get it off me, get it off me!” She was holding out an arm, as though trying to pull it from her body.

Cesar drew a long knife from its sheath. Marcus started visibly. “Please do not move.” Cesar took a firm grip of Felicity's wrist and gently brushed the blade across her skin. A thin line of blood descended from a puncture wound. Cesar proudly held up his machete to display the distended body of a leach. “Please don't be alarmed. They are completely harmless. The recent rains have brought them out.”

Hannah and Lloyd crowded around and squealed in delight. Several others shuddered at the prospect of being bitten and peered suspiciously at the nearest greenery.

“There's one on your boot.” Darryl began poking Jackie's heel with a stick. “Persistent little buggers, aren't they?” he declared, lifting the stick to reveal the creature now looping steadily towards his hand.

The line began to move again, somewhat faster than before. The path made a gentle descent over round and slippery rocks to a tea-stained stream weaving in and out of dappled shade. Jackie sat on a boulder to adjust her boot and bandage. Most others followed suit, checking for leaches. David rambled aimlessly upwards, following the waters as they leapt towards him from pool to pool. The way quickly became indistinct. He looked up to assess the prospect for further progress and caught site of two dark figures crossing further upstream. He thought about calling, but was unsure of his footing. As he glanced down to regain his balance then up again, he realised they were gone. Turning to descend, he found Laura close behind him. “Did you see them?”

“See what?” Laura looked around her, quizzically.

“Two people crossing the stream.” David pointed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I think so. Why?”

“Because I've seen them too. I wonder if a couple of guides or porters are shadowing us to ensure we're O.K?”

“Probably, but they didn't look that much like guides, mused David.”

“I'll tell Cesar and Marcus.”

“Do you remember the red car - I wonder if they're anything to do with that? Maybe some other tourists don't know the way to the lake, so they're following us.”

Laura didn't respond, but what David said made sense, and it was a comforting supposition. She began to rehearse what she would say to the others. She didn't want to appear neurotic, or spooked by the jungle.

Cesar was relaying that it was only twenty minutes to the lakeshore. All seemed keen to press on, so Laura decided to await her moment. Despite herself, she couldn't help peer suspiciously into the undergrowth, although the rhythm of the walk soon soothed her concerns. The land grew flatter, the trees more broadly spaced and the pathway progressively wider. The world became a drier, brighter, hotter place again, grasshoppers springing from the trail into the grassy undergrowth. The trees parted, revealing still waters beyond. The children began to run. Others lengthened their stride, keen to escape the furnace-like intensity of early afternoon. A small group held back to chaperone Jackie, who was still limping badly. An open, sandy foreshore was spattered with boats, tents and the charcoaled remains of old bonfires. A ramshackle wooden hut looked as though it might collapse under the weight of its thick grass roof. A flag flew from a leaning pole, stripped of colour by long exposure to the elements.

The porters were in the hut and this was where Cesar directed the team. There was a tiny slatted porch, a counter covered by boxes and a small, shadowy room barely big enough for the group to assemble. It was crammed with bags, lifejackets and other kit. A couple of rough-cut benches provided the only furnishing, other than a white board on one wall. It was covered in the graffiti of old messages - random memos and observations from groups who had passed that way before. People began to rummage for personal possessions. Others sought shade and, if possible, a breeze, wherever they could find them. Lloyd and Hannah had cast aside their shoes and were paddling through the shallow waters, Hannah complaining that tiny fishes were nibbling her toes. David discarded his troublesome boots and joined them, only to retreat rapidly in the face of a thorough soaking. Tinny music began to play. Laura listened as she fussed over Jackie's injured foot, temporarily forgetting her anxiety about those who might be following.

Marcus and Cesar were getting to grips with the baggage and allocating tents. The porters handed out cold sodas from a large cool-bag. Most were content to sit and sip, and to take in the timeless simplicity of the waterscape. Ethan was the first to notice the two men walking purposefully along the beach, ignoring the children as they passed by. Large and local, they looked quite formal and it occurred to him they may be park officials. One appeared to be limping slightly. He pointed them out to Marcus, as he emerged onto the porch with a bag in either hand. Marcus put down his burden and scratched his head. Then he highlighted them in turn to Cesar. Cesar spread his hands to convey his own lack of recognition and walked purposefully out to meet the pair.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The Lake

“Don't you wish we were them?” Alfredo looked soulfully at his brother.

“Perhaps,” pondered Luis, “but I've no idea what that would be like?”

“Like being kids again, I should think: like being back at the ranch with nothing to do all day but explore and get into trouble. We were good at that - weren't we, Luis?”

Luis smirked, even though his stomach was in knots. He couldn't get away from what they were about to do. By involving tourists they would cross a dangerous red line. He took a deep breath and stood up, wiping sand from his sides. They had washed and cleaned - smoothed their hair and clothes as best they could - in the cool waters of a sheltered creek.

“Come on, let's do this - there's no other way. Stay relaxed, Alfredo, and walk slowly. If we spook them, somebody might run for cover. Then we're screwed.”