The Hidden City
VERY gently she drew herself from my embrace and spoke; to my surprise
and delight, using a dialect of Zutugil, and fervently I thanked
heaven--and Fray José--that I had learned that tongue.
“My lord has been long in coming,” she said. “Long have we awaited my
lord. For many Tuns and Katuns, aye, even for many Baktuns, have the
maidens of Kinich Ahau awaited thy coming at the Bridge of Light.”
Bridge of Light! At her words comprehension dawned upon me. Strange
I had not thought of it before--in Zutugil, light and life were
synonymous, the same word served for both--the bridge of life of the
prophecy was the bridge of light the girl had crossed!
“But to me, Itza, has come the honor of welcoming my lord,” she
continued, “and blessed by the gods am I. And”--she dropped her eyes
and blushed--“I am glad to find you good to look upon, my lord. I
had thought to see my lord ugly--even with the savage face and great
teeth of the images, and at times I feared and thought perchance my
lord might even suck my blood or devour me, as Kinchi Haman says the
gods are wont to do. But my lord is kind and gentle and he honors and
blesses me with caresses, and”--her golden skin flushed rosily and her
eyelids drooped--“and, the caresses of my lord are very sweet.”...
At last, with a deep sigh, she again released herself. “We must go to
Kinchi Haman, my lord,” she said. “He would be angry indeed if he knew
I were detaining my lord. Let us delay no longer.”
Holding my hand, she led me towards the chasm. But as I glanced into
the terrible abyss spanned by that shimmering beam of light, I drew
back. There are limits to human faith, to credulity, and though I had
seen Itza walk safely across the Bridge of Light, and though I knew
she was no wraith, no spirit, no supernatural being, no figment of
my imagination, yet to believe that I could do the same was utterly
beyond me. By what magic, by what mysterious unknown power she had
accomplished the seemingly impossible feat I did not know, could not
imagine, but that the streaming light would support _my_ weight was
unthinkable, utterly preposterous.
Itza looked at me with surprise in her glorious eyes. “Does my lord
fear?” she asked. Then, with a merry rippling laugh: “Fear not to
follow me, my lord,” she said, and stepped forward. I gasped, took a
step forward to restrain her, but she was out of reach, walking upon
that multicolored light, leaving me alone within the entrance to the
cavern. Better to be dashed to my death than to lose Itza, and fully
expecting to feel myself hurtling through space, I leaped after her.
Miracle of miracles! My feet trod upon an invisible something as firm
as the rock itself. In a moment I was at Itza’s side. In a moment more
we had crossed the chasm and stood within the opening in the opposite
cliff. I had crossed the Bridge of Light, had accomplished the utterly
impossible!
In impassioned words, with husky voice I told her of my love, whispered
soft Zutugil endearments in her ears and declared, as I believed and as
I still believe, that Fate had drawn me hither and Destiny had guided
and guarded me that I might find and have her. “And I, too, love thee,
my lord,” she whispered. “Aye, I love thee more than life. Blessed am
I above all women that my lord should love me, but mortal woman cannot
mate with the sons of the gods, my lord, and Kinchi Haman has chosen me
to be the bride of Kinich Ahau with the coming of the next moon of the
Tonalmatl.”
“Curse your Kinchi Haman, whoever he may be!” I exclaimed. “I’ll have
something to say about whose bride you are to be, my Itza, my beloved
one! And as for being a son of the gods! I am as much a mortal as
thyself.”
Itza drew away, her eyes frightened, wide. “Hush!” she warned me in a
terrified whisper. “Curse not the great high-priest, my lord. And say
not that you are mortal. Aye, I know you come in the form of man, for
so it has been foretold, but even Kukulcan walked the earth in the form
of man and thou, my lord, art his son. But we must make haste, my lord.
Already the sun seeks the nether world, so let us hurry onward to my
people and to Kinchi Haman.”
Still holding my hand, she led me down the rocky passage, while
all about us the strange light glowed. Whence it came I could not
discover. I could see no device, no contrivance, no source to account
for the light. Even where it streamed across the chasm, where it
formed that miraculous bridge of light, it seemed to issue from the
solid rock. It was all incomprehensible, incredible. The only real,
natural, understandable thing I had seen was Itza, and while she was
real and natural and lovable enough, yet even some of her words were
incomprehensible to me. That she had mistaken me for a god, for the
descendant of the Plumed Serpent, was not surprising. She and her
people, of course, knew of the ancient prophecy, they had--as she
herself had said--been long awaiting the appearance of some messenger
bearing the token, the symbol of the Book of Kukulcan, and when she
had seen me, a white man and bearded, she had naturally thought me
either the bearded god himself or one of his sons. But who was this
high-priest Kinchi Haman whom she both revered and feared? Who was this
Kinich Ahau, whom she was to wed at the next new cycle of Tonalmatl?
Well, I’d soon know, and would have something to say about whom she
was to wed. And if Itza’s people looked upon me as an incarnated god,
as the son of Kukulcan, what I had to say would carry weight. Even a
high-priest would hardly dare defy the son of the Plumed Serpent, the
bearer of the Book of Kukulcan. And even if he did, I’d have Itza for
myself despite him and his fellows. If it came to a matter of force, I
was quite prepared to slay the priest with my own hands. So elated was
I, so filled with my new found happiness, so overwhelmingly in love
with Itza, that no thought of danger; no thought of failure entered my
mind. I felt able to cope with anything, to overcome anything, to defy
the world if necessary. Nothing mattered but Itza, and I drew her to me
and kissed her head, her neck, her upturned lips as we hurried on.
But even in my obsession I noted something of our surroundings. I
saw that the tunnel through which we were passing had been cut by
hand--tool marks were everywhere visible upon the walls and roof, and
at frequent intervals the rock was covered with sculptured figures
and glyphs. In places, too, it led downwards in series of steps, and
descending one of these flights of stone stairs and turning sharply to
the left, we came abruptly to the end of the passage with an arched
opening framing a section of a gorgeous sunset, of golden and crimson
clouds above a purple range of lofty mountains.
* * * * *
AS we reached the opening, and I gazed upon the scene spread before
me, I uttered an involuntary cry of admiration. Never had I beheld
a more beautiful picture. Enclosed within an encircling ring of
towering mountains was a valley perhaps thirty miles in diameter, a
valley rich and verdant, with patches of dark woodland, with lush
green meadows, and with a broad tranquil river winding through the
centre and shimmering in the fading light of the setting sun. Fields
of golden-yellow corn, or snowy cotton, of tobacco, alternated with
acres of flowers--crimson, white, pink, mauve and scarlet, until the
cultivated lands looked like a vast multicolored crazy-quilt. In every
direction straight roads, bordered by stone walls and shade trees,
divided the whole valley into even, symmetrical squares, and from where
we stood, a broad highway led--straight as an arrow--to the great city
that occupied the very centre of the valley. It was the hidden city,
the city of Mictolan!
Hundreds of low, one-storied houses glowed in the rosy light of the
sunset. Here and there a taller, more imposing building rose above the
others; four magnificent temples with enormous, intricate roof-combs
towered, on their lofty pyramidal mounds, far above the lesser
buildings, and even higher than these, surmounting an enormous “kus” or
pyramid fully two hundred feet in height, with its gleaming, painted
comb soaring another hundred feet in air, was a magnificent temple
rising from the huge open plaza in the centre of the city.
From where we stood, we could see the tiny forms of people moving
about; strolling through the streets, lolling on the flat roofs of
their houses, plodding from their labors in the fields towards thatched
cottages embowered in flowering shrubs and trees, but all so silent,
so still, that it seemed more like a picture thrown upon a screen than
a reality. And as the last light of the sun faded and was gone, and
twilight descended on the valley, a strange effulgence, a luminous glow
overspread the city and the valley, seeming to come from nowhere, to
be conjured from the air, and bathing the wondrous scene in a soft,
mysterious light.
Itza’s touch drew my eyes from the marvelous scene, and again I crushed
her to me, drank deep of the sweetness of her lips and felt the thrill
of her responsive love. Then, side by side, we stepped from the opening
in the mountain and, in the strange, soft purplish light, moved forward
along the highway towards the city. Our presence was already noted.
Before we had gone fifty feet, the faint, far-away sound of horns, of
booming drums, of shouting voices were borne to us from the city, and
from the summits of the five temples lambent flames shot to the zenith,
shifting from gold to white, to red, to green, like a display of the
Aurora. Ahead of us the wide road was filled with hurrying, thronging,
shouting people. Men, women and children came dancing, laughing towards
us. All were golden-skinned, all were clad in richly woven cotton
garments, all were figures that might have stepped bodily from some
ancient Mayan sculpture. Prostrating themselves as we approached,
strewing the road with gorgeous flowers, chanting songs, they formed a
lane through which we passed. Now and then I caught a word, a sentence,
amid the confusion of shouts, laughter and songs: “He comes! The bearer
of the symbol comes!” “Look upon the son of Kukulcan!” “Beseech his
blessings!” “Itza leads him to us!” “Blessed by the gods is Itza!”
“Our day is at hand!” “Behold the deliverance of Mictolan!” “Welcome
to thee, O son of the Plumed Serpent!” “Great is our rejoicing O, our
lord!” “Long have we awaited thee, but thou hast come at last!” “Lo,
the prophecy has been fulfilled!” Then, as we passed where the crowd
was still closer, I heard someone exclaim: “May he who bears the token
choose Itza for his bride!”
“Hush! speak not so,” warned another. “Know you not she is betrothed to
Kinich Ahau? She weds at the coming of Tonalmatl.”
“And what of that?” persisted the first speaker, and at his words my
heart went out to him and I stared into the sea of faces striving to
identify him--a tall serious-looking young fellow in a dark red costume
and a plumed golden casque--“What of that?” he repeated. “Who dares say
the bearer of the token nay? Can aught prevail against the power of the
lord of Kukulcan?” The reply was lost as we passed on and the welcoming
din increased. Never had a man a more vociferous, a more whole-hearted,
a more triumphant welcome.
Itza touched my arm. “Look, my lord!” she exclaimed in a whisper. “He
comes, Kinchi Haman comes forth to welcome my lord. My task is done, my
lord. I must leave thee. But O, my lord, that I might be forever at thy
side! Oh, but thy caresses are very sweet, my lord!”
I grasped her almost roughly by the arm. “Go not!” I commanded her.
“Your tasks are but just commenced. I, too, desire you forever at
my side, and none--no, not even your Kinchi Haman, dare dispute the
commands of him who bears the token of Kukulcan.”
A troubled, half-frightened expression came over her face but she
smiled and glanced trustfully at me and made no further effort to
leave my side as we halted and awaited the approaching procession. In
the lead, clearing the street of the crowds, and forcing them back
by means of heavy wooden staves, were several dozen Indians clad
only in loin cloths but wearing tight-fitting leather caps adorned
with blue feathers. Behind these marched several columns of warriors
in robes of quilted cotton, their heads covered with shining copper
helmets bearing nodding plumes of red, white and green. Each carried
a long bronze-headed lance and a round shield decorated with mosaic
symbols of the Plumed Serpent. Following these was a band playing upon
double-ended drums, long reed pipes and pottery whistles, while behind
the musicians was a knot of long-robed, long-haired men ablaze with
gold and jewelled ornaments and surrounding a marvelous litter borne
on the shoulders of eight men. Even in the soft subdued light which
resembled bright moonlight, the palanquin scintillated and sparkled
with iridescent hues as though sprinkled with diamond dust. But at
the time I scarcely glanced at the golden, gem-encrusted litter, for
my eyes were fixed upon the man who sat within it--the high-priest of
Mictolan, Kinchi Haman.
* * * * *
NEVER have I seen a more repugnant, a more repulsive creature. He
seemed a fiend in human form if ever there was one, and he was scarcely
human at that. His face was indescribably horrible, for some affection
or disease had eaten away the cheeks and nose until the jaw bones
were visible; he had the appearance of a living death’s head. Above
the yawning black holes that should have been a nose, his malignant
eyes burned in deep bony sockets. A shock of coarse hair, dyed red by
lye, grew low on his artificially flattened forehead and hung about
his shoulders, and although I did not know it at the time, he was a
hunchback with weak bowed legs and gorilla-like arms. He was dressed in
a long robe of black with a border of symbols in the sacred red, white
and green, an immense carved emerald was suspended by a chain of heavy
gold links about his neck and upon his head was a narrow gold band
bearing two long tail feathers of the sacred Quetzal trogan.
As he saw Itza beside me, his eyes flashed, his lips drew back over the
fleshless jaws and he was the personification of fury.
“Back to your home, Daughter of Kinich Ahau,” he snarled. “How dare ye
walk in the presence of him who comes, shameless one that thou art?”
Itza, terror on her face, shrank back, but I tightened my hold on her
arm. “Have no fear, beloved,” I whispered.
The priest seemed mad with fury as he saw the girl make no move to
obey. “You dare defy me?” he screamed, half-rising from his litter, and
quivering with rage. “Have a care that thou art not flayed alive and
wed in blood to Xipe instead of becoming the bride of Kinich Ahau.”
Then, turning to his soldiers, “seize her, beat her until she falls,”
he ordered.
Two of the men stepped forward, their stern faces a strange mingling
of fear of approaching me, the bearer of the token, and terror of
disobeying the monstrous, fiendish priest.
“Stand back!” I ordered, drawing Itza to my side. “He who dares lay
hand upon the maiden Itza dies by the curse of Kukulcan.”
Instantly the warriors drew hastily back, and still holding Itza,
trembling and terrified, I strode directly toward the raging,
infuriated priest. My part was to bluff, to overawe. From the instant
I had set eyes upon Kinchi Haman I had known that he and I were fated
to clash, that either his power or mine must prevail and there was no
better time than the present to determine once and for all who was to
wield the power. My part was to overawe, to bluff to terrify by my
supposedly semi-divine personality. But would the priest’s fears of
offending the gods override his vicious, cruel nature and his fear of
losing prestige? I would soon know.
Looking him contemptuously up and down and then with a savage frown
staring straight into his bloodshot, wicked eyes, I stepped to within
a yard of where he sat, like the living counterpart of a hideously
distorted idol.
“And who art thou to defy the bearer of the Book of Kukulcan?” I
demanded. “A strange welcome you give the bearer of the sacred token,
O, Kinchi Haman. Know you, misshapen one, that I, the long expected
one, choose to have this maiden Itza remain beside me. More, O, priest
of Mictolan, I, not Kinich Ahau, shall wed the maiden. Disobey my
wishes, little priest, and the lightning and thunder at my command
shall destroy you and your people.”
At my words, a deep half-moan, half-sigh arose from the crowd. They,
through their priest, had offended the hearer of the Book of Kukulcan.
Dire vengeance might fall upon them at any moment, and with groans and
supplications they prostrated themselves upon the earth. But the effect
of my words upon the priest were very different. He was a brave man,
despite his cruel, vindictive nature, and, so I suspected at least,
was not as superstitious as his people. And though I could see he
was terrified at heart and recoiled before me, yet he was not one to
willingly acknowledge defeat so readily.
“Thou speakest boldly,” he muttered, his eyes ablaze, “but what proof
have we that thou art the bearer of the token? And even if thou art,
it is I, Kinchi Haman who rules here. And the maiden I say is to wed
Kinich Ahau.” Then to his guard. “Seize her, I command you. The one who
falters dies the seven deaths.”
A burly fellow sprang towards Itza at the priest’s words. There was
no time for argument, no time for anything but instant action. I must
prove my words, must make good my boast. I drew my revolver, fired from
the hip, and the soldier plunged forward. But his fall was scarcely
noticed by the amazed, horror-stricken, terrified people. Screams,
yells, groans came from them as they grovelled in the dust while the
priest, flinging himself from his litter, threw himself at my feet
chattering incomprehensible gibberish and pleading for mercy.
I had won the day. To be sure it had been at the cost of a man’s life
and I regretted having been forced to kill the fellow who was, after
all, only obeying the priest’s orders, but it could not be helped and,
I felt, it had probably saved many lives (including Itza’s and my own)
that would have been sacrificed had I not at once asserted myself.
* * * * *
PLACING my foot upon the neck of the prostrate priest--a somewhat
theatrical pose I admit, but perfectly appropriate under the
circumstances--I harangued the people. Timidly, fearfully they, raised
their heads at sound of my voice, and with frightened eyes gazed at me,
fairly trembling with terror of another demonstration of my power over
thunder and lightning.
“People of Mictolan!” I cried, “Arise and fear not. I, the bearer of
the Book of Kukulcan come to you in peace and friendship. Bear witness
O, People of Mictolan, that Kinchi Haman defied him who brings the
token, and behold him humbled and in the dust. He has been spared
death by the magic of my thunder and my lightning because he is of the
priesthood of Kinich Ahau, but no other shall be spared who defies me,
and even he will feel the vengeance of Kukulcan if he bows not to my
will. And bear witness O, People of Mictolan that the maiden Itza weds
with me and not with Kinich Ahau. Should ill befall her, should harm
come to her, the vengeance of the Plumed Serpent will fall upon the
city and its people.”
A great sigh arose from the throng. “Thy will is law, O, son of
Kukulcan. Thy words shall be obeyed,” they chanted, almost as with one
voice.
“Arise, Kinchi Haman,” I ordered the still groveling priest, removing
my foot. “You have heard my words. Bear them well in mind, O, Most Ugly
One.”
Shaking, terrified, the priest managed to gain his feet, but despite
his physical--and his superstitious fear--malignant hatred and
vindictiveness were in his burning deep-set eyes. But his words were
humble, apologetic, as he begged pardon for defying me.
“You asked, O, priest, what proof you had that I was the bearer of
the symbol,” I said. “Is not my presence here enough? Who, but the
bearer of the Book of Kukulcan, could pass the Valley of Death, the
Tunnel of the Serpents, the Pool of the Alligators, the Eight Deserts,
the Whirlwind, the Fiend Neztpehua, the Demon Ixputeque, the Blazing
Mountains, the Realm of Hot Ashes, the Cave of the Bats and the Bridge
of Light? But that none may doubt, here O, priest, is further proof.”
As I spoke, I handed him the copy of the codex. Every neck craned
forward, every breath was held as the priest studied the document.
Dropping to his knees, he knocked his forehead in the dust. “O, great
and mighty son of Kukulcan!” he cried, as he again arose. “Son of the
mighty Gucumatz, Lord of the Thunder and the Heavens, we do you homage.
At thy feet we prostrate ourselves and our gods bow before you. Thy
will is law and thy breath our life. Great is our rejoicing that thou
hast come unto us of Mictolan at last. Mighty will be our praise to
Kinich Ahau, Lord of the Sun, for thy coming, and great will be the
sacrifices on our altars. One hundred maidens shall be wed to Kinich
Ahau on the moon of the Tonalmatl, and----”
“Stop!” I ordered, interrupting him. “There will be no sacrifices.
Know ye not that Kukulcan in the long ago ordered that the people of
Xibalba, the Kingdom of the Great Snake, were to make no sacrifices of
their fellow men? Know ye not that it was disobedience of this order
that caused Kukulcan to leave you, to hide his face for many Baktuns;
that in punishment, the people were destroyed and only those of the
City of Mictolan were saved? And yet you, O, Kinchi Haman, would
disobey that order, and that in the presence of the son of Kukulcan!
Have a care that the vengeance of the Lord of Thunder falls not upon
thy head, O, priest.”
He glowered. I saw that in him I had an implacable enemy. But he was
too fearful of my pistol, too fearful of my presence openly to protest,
too fearful of popular opinion. Though he cursed me inwardly, for he
was a cruel and bloodthirsty old rascal, yet his words were suave and
humble enough. “It shall be as my lord wishes,” he declared. “He is the
son of Kukulcan; he is our master and the gods bow to his will. But my
Lord tires, he has come far. His place is awaiting him as it has been
awaiting him for many Katuns in the past. Come, my Lord, to thy temple
that thou mayest rest.”
Turning, he beckoned to his litter bearers who came forward with his
gorgeous, golden, gem-encrusted palanquin, and with it another even
more wonderful which had been brought for my own use. With a quick
motion I lifted Itza, seated her in the glorious vehicle, and took my
place by her side. Never have I seen a more hideous, a more intense
expression of hatred and anger than that which, for a brief instant,
showed upon the death’s head features of the high priest as he saw the
girl beside me in the litter.
“You and I are coming to grips soon, old rascal,” I muttered to myself,
as the bearers lifted my litter to their shoulders and started forward.
“And,” I added mentally, “the sooner you start trouble, the sooner your
career will be finished, you old faker,” for I felt quite certain that
Kinchi Haman did not in the least believe me a divinity.