The Secret Door
THE mystery of Itza’s disappearance was solved. A segment of the
circular flagging about the fountain was movable; it could be opened by
means of the lever within the tunnel, and Itza had been seized, dragged
into the secret passage and carried to the temple. But knowing how she
had been abducted did not help matters any. We were no nearer finding
her now than we were before. We had lost valuable, precious time,
wandering underground merely to find ourselves back in my own patio.
We had followed the back trail from the temple, and I raved, swore,
cursed in my extremity and my impotent rage. There was nothing to do
but return to the deserted quarters of the priest and from there make a
thorough, systematic search of every room, passage and chamber within
the huge temple. But for us to undertake this alone seemed hopeless,
almost suicidal. Torn with sorrow, maddened as I was, I had sense
enough left to realize this. To blindly sacrifice myself and Azcopil
would not help Itza, and I had no doubt that, when we returned to the
temple, we would meet with a warm reception, that the priests and
their attendants would be armed, and that we would stand little chance
against their numbers. Moreover, how could we two hope to find Itza in
the mazes of the temple? No doubt it was full of secret passages and
hidden doors. We knew one such existed and where there was one there
would be more. We might pass within a few yards, a few feet, of Itza
without knowing it, and she might be carried from her hiding place to
some room we had already searched. No, to have any chance of success, a
large body of men would be needed, and we had already found that even
the loyal retainers of the prince, and my own guards, would die rather
than force their way into the Temple of the Sun.
Yet we must have men. I was determined to find Kinchi Haman and to
search every nook and cranny of the temple, even if I was forced to
tear the place to bits. Neither would this have been such an impossible
feat as might be imagined. By closing the outlet at the top of the
temple, thus confining the gas from that awful pit, and then igniting
it, the structure could be blown to bits. And I mentally vowed that
if I discovered Itza no longer lived, I would wreak that vengeance
upon the place and its inmates. That such wild thoughts should have
entered my head, that for one moment I should have contemplated the
wholesale destruction of men and women who were in no way responsible
for my bereavement, proves the mental state I was in, proves that I was
temporarily insane with grief and desperation. Indeed, at that time, I
would have stopped at nothing, would have destroyed the entire city, if
doing so would have brought Itza back to me.
The prince recalled me to my sober senses. The sun was setting, we
were wasting valuable time. Only thirty hours now remained before the
dawning of the day of Tonalmatl. The ruddy glare of the sinking sun
brought a new thought to me. Would Kinchi Haman appear before the altar
of his temple to conduct the ceremony of the Setting Sun? Would his
religious fanaticism overcome his fear of my vengeance? Would he appear
and openly defy me?
My thoughts were interrupted by Azcopil. “Itzimin,” he said earnestly.
“You must carry out the ritual of Kukulcan. If you fail, if the people
find you have neglected this, they will turn against you, will lose
faith in you and will swing to Kinchi Haman. It is hard, I know. I,
your friend and brother, know how you are suffering, how you are
tortured, Itzimin. But I know my people better than you do. To find
Itza we must have men, must have support and the faith and confidence
of my people. If they see you not upon the altar of the Plumed Serpent
they will say the God of Day has cast you down for violating the
sanctity of his temple; but if you appear, they will think your god is
greater and more powerful than that of Kinchi Haman. And, Itzimin, from
the temple you may call down the wrath of Kukulcan upon Kinchi Haman
and all those who have a part in that tragedy that has befallen. Aye,
Itzimin, my brother, and you may promise great things and the favor of
the Plumed Serpent to those who are loyal and aid us. Do you not see,
Itzimin?”
I saw. At first, as he spoke, I had been filled with rage that he, my
best and closest friend, should have suggested such a thing. But as
he continued I realized the truth of what he said, the importance of
sacrificing my feelings in order to impress the people, the loss to my
cause if I failed to carry out my rôle as priest of the Plumed Serpent,
as the son of Kukulcan.
And so, despite my tortured mind and breaking heart, despite my grief,
my rage, my impatience, my mad desire to be searching for my beloved
one, I summoned my guard, entered my litter, and accompanied by the
prince started towards the temple as usual. At my appearance, the
crowds that thronged the streets gazed in amazement. What magic was
this? They knew we had forced our way into the temple--our men had
reported our rash and sacrilegious act--we had never come forth, and
yet, here we were emerging from my palace, carried in my golden litter
towards my own temple, unharmed, apparently as calm, as untroubled
as ever. No wonder they stared at me incredulously. And then, from
hundreds of throats, wild cheers, cries of delight, triumphant shouts
arose. “The son of Kukulcan!” they screamed. “The Serpent God is the
Great God!” “Itzimin Chac walks with the gods!” “The bearer of the
token lives forever!” “Those who walk with Itzimin Chac have the favor
of Kukulcan!” “The Prince Azcopil walks with the son of Kukulcan!” “The
power of Kinchi Haman wanes!” “Where is the hunchback priest?” “Death
to him who would injure the Great One!”
Yes, Azcopil had been right. My appearance had been a master stroke.
Kinchi Haman was losing ground. From the temple I would exhort,
threaten, promise the people. I would work upon their excitable,
superstitious natures, and would rouse them to the point where they
would follow me to the innermost sanctums of the Temple of the Sun. Yet
there were many who still favored Kinchi Haman. I could hear their
shouts, their cries above the din. But they seemed to be greatly in the
minority, and I noticed that those who were still loyal to the priest
were of the poorest, most ignorant class, the rag-tag and bobtail, the
gutter-sweepings and ragamuffins of the city.
* * * * *
I REACHED the temple and mounted to the terrace, while high above the
summit of the neighboring temple the multicolored flames waved like
banners.
A terrible thought crossed my mind. Perhaps Kinchi Haman had left the
valley, perhaps he had fled with Itza across the Bridge of Light! With
a tremendous effort I put the thought from me. No, he was still here.
Something told me, some premonition convinced me that both he and Itza
were near at hand. But would he appear upon his temple? Dared he defy
me? Half hoping that he would, for I would then know he was still
within reach and that Itza was near, yet hoping he would not, I peered
across at the other temple. But no sign of life appeared upon it, no
procession wound its way around the great terrace at the summit of
the _Kus_. How I went through the ritual I do not know. What I said I
cannot remember. To me it was a terrible nightmare, separate from my
conscious, tortured mind.
But my words, my scathing denunciation of the deformed priest and his
deeds, my vows of vengeance, my pleas for support, and my exaltations
of my own God (whom the people of course assumed was Kukulcan), my
promises of rewards for those who were loyal and who obeyed me, must
have had the desired effect, for a thunder of cheers rose on the still
evening air. And the fact that Kinchi Haman had not appeared, that for
once the ceremony of the Setting Sun was not celebrated upon the temple
of Kinich Ahau, had an even greater effect upon the populace. The
omission was, to their minds, conclusive evidence of the superiority,
the triumph of the Plumed Serpent. Rumors that the priest had been
destroyed by mysterious means, rumors that Kinich Ahau himself frowned
upon his rascally priest, spread through the crowd.
And then, at the very moment when I felt we had triumphed, wild cries,
excited shouts arose from the crowd, and all eyes were turned towards
the Temple of the Sun. Standing before the great altar, clearly
outlined in the glare of the flames above, looking like a fiend from
the pit--was Kinchi Haman, his arms upraised, a triumphant grin on his
hideous face. Beside myself with rage at sight of him, without stopping
to think of consequences, heedless of the fact that he was separated
from me by more than three hundred yards, I drew my pistol from beneath
my robes and fired.
At the flash and the roar of the explosion, shrieks, wails, terrified
cries arose from the multitude, and with one accord the people flung
themselves prostrate upon the ground. But I scarcely realized this. My
eyes had been fixed upon the distant priest, and at the report of my
weapon I had seen him reel to one side and disappear. Had I killed him?
Had my bullet by mere chance found its mark? Full realization of what
that meant swept over me. If I had killed him I had perhaps destroyed
the one man who knew where Itza was confined.
But there was one satisfaction. Kinchi Haman had not fled from
Mictolan, Itza must still be in the valley. And if I had killed the
priest, there was more opportune time to search the temple than
the present. If he were dead, the place would be in an uproar, the
attendants terrified would be disorganized. Itza would be forgotten,
unguarded. Tearing off my ceremonial dress, I dashed down to the
entrance where Azcopil was awaiting me. The plaza was almost deserted.
Only my personal guards and those of the prince remained. The crowds,
awed, terrified at the flash and report of my weapon, horrified and
frightened at seeing Kinchi Haman fall, fully believing that it was the
vengeance of Kukulcan, had fled to their homes seeking hiding places
from the vengeance of the outraged god. Even our soldiers were quaking
with fear. It was bad enough to have two priests at daggers’ points,
to have the people split into factions and ready to break into open
hostilities. But to have their two most powerful deities, their two
great gods at war, was too awful. No one dared even guess where it
might end, what calamity might result.
But my rash act in shooting at Kinchi Haman had had one good result.
The soldiers were convinced that Kukulcan was the all-powerful god.
They had seen my thunder and lightning strike down the priest of Kinich
Ahau upon the very altar of the God of Day. His god had not protected
him, had not wrought vengeance upon me. Hence, to their minds, Kinich
Ahau bowed to Kukulcan, and they were prepared to follow me wherever
I took them. And without loss of time I led them straight to the
other temple. To my amazement, no one disputed our way. The door was
unguarded, the passages were deserted.
I dashed up the pyramidal _Kus_, mounted to the altar. But there was
no trace of the body of the priest. I searched for tell-tale drops of
blood, but could find none. I did, however, find the spatter of lead
from my bullet upon the sculptured stonework directly back of where
Kinchi Haman had stood. Azcopil glanced furtively, half-frightened
about. His superstitions were aroused again. It savored of mystery,
of magic. Even to me it seemed inexplicable. But there was no time
to bother about matters of such minor importance. We must search the
interior of the temple.
Systematically, we went through the rooms, the passageway, the maze of
chambers, vaults and cells. But there was no trace of Itza, no trace
of the priest, not a living soul anywhere! What had happened? What had
become of the scores of priests, guards and attendants? Where had they
gone? It was uncanny, mysterious, inexplicable. Utterly discouraged,
weary, with eyes aching and reddened from want of sleep, we stumbled
from the empty temple to find the sun rising above the mountains to the
east. Utterly hopeless and despondent, with stumbling feet and bowed
heads, we made our way to the palace to find Nohul Voh awaiting us.
“Itzimin, my son,” he exclaimed, placing his arm about me, “long have
I awaited your coming. By the sadness of your face, I know you have no
news of her whom you seek. But fear not, she is still unharmed. I have
much to reveal to you, but first must you rest and eat, for you will
need your strength. Much must be done today, for with the setting of
the sun tonight the Tonalmatl begins.”
* * * * *
I STARTED. Only a scant twelve hours remained! I had counted upon
having all that day and the night as well, to continue my seemingly
hopeless search.
Nohul Voh must have read my thoughts. He smiled reassuringly. “Fear
not and have faith in the prophecy and in Fate,” he said. “Though the
Tonalmatl begins tonight by the stars, yet not until Itzamna, the Moon
God, greets his Lord, Kinich Ahau, with the dawning of the day does the
feast of the Tonalmatl take place. And now, ask no questions my son but
eat, and you, O, Prince, eat and rest for much strength will you, too,
require for what lies before you.”
Not until we had eaten--though it was with difficulty I forced the food
down my throat despite my famished state--would the old sorcerer speak
again. Then, as we rested our weary bodies among the cushions, he drew
near. “Tell me,” he asked, “all that has transpired, my son.”
Briefly I related what we had done.
He nodded. “Kinchi Haman still lives,” he declared, when I had ended.
“He hides from your wrath. With him are those of the temple, for he
hopes, by giving maidens to Kinich Ahau as brides upon the day of
Tonalmatl, to win the favor of the god and so triumph over you, my son,
and those who are your friends, and to make his god supreme in this
valley of Mictolan. Until that time he and his fellows fear to show
themselves, for they dread the power of the thunder that kills in the
hands of Itzimin Chac. Already--”
“I’ve searched the temple and he’s not there,” I exclaimed impatiently,
interrupting him.
He smiled enigmatically. “Aye, you have searched a _part_ of the
temple,” he replied. “It was of this I have waited long to speak, my
son. Did you not search the chamber of Kinchi Haman? Did you not find
it empty? But did that prove the priest was not within the temple? Did
you not by merest chance find the doorway wherein was caught the bit of
the maiden’s chain? Have I not searched the skies for many years--for
centuries--and do I not each night find new stars? Does not the rabbit
have always two doors to his hole? Has my son measured the length of
the _Kus_ on the _outside_? Has he paced the length within? Has--”
I started up. His words electrified me. Fool that I had been not to
have thought of this! The base of the pyramid was stupendous--it
covered acres of ground. How could I be sure there were not two,
three--a dozen portions separated by secret doors, or perhaps reached
by tunnels like the one that led to my own patio?
“Has my son yet seen the home of the Virgins of the Sun?” continued
Nohul Voh, “Has he seen the sacred well? Has he yet found the inner
chamber wherein the sacred golden image of Kinich Ahau is worshipped by
the Kinchi Haman and his priests? Yet, my lord, all these are within
the temple. And--”
Again I interrupted him. I leaped to my feet. Dolt, fool that I had
been! I had wasted time wandering about the outer, the most unimportant
portion of the temple’s passages and rooms. Why had Azcopil not
reminded me of these other places? I started for the door, but the
sorcerer checked me.
“Wait!” he exclaimed. “To beat with bare hands upon stone walls will
but bruise your hands,” he continued. “Does the jaguar try to outrun
the deer? Does the wild hog try to push down the tree for the fruit he
craves?
“Very crafty is Kinchi Haman. Only he knows the secret of the moving
stones that seal the doorway to the inner temple. For days, months,
years you might search for it in vain, so cleverly is it hidden. But
there is a way, a way known to Nohul Voh, and here, my son, is the key
to that way.”
From somewhere in his garments he produced a tube of bamboo with carved
stoppers at the ends. Carefully removing one of these, he disclosed
what appeared to be a stick of some reddish clay curiously mottled with
yellowish flakes. Indeed, it resembled a stick of the ornamental red
sealing wax filled with flakes of mica more than anything else.
I reached out my hand to examine it, but Nohul Voh checked me in time.
“Touch it not!” he warned me. “Within this case it can harm you not,
but touch it and your flesh will be seared to the bone. But it is the
magic that will reveal the secret door of the inner temple.”
I was puzzled. What did he mean? How could this thing--whatever it
was--that he handled so gingerly, reveal the hidden door?
But the old sorcerer was explaining. “Together with the prince and
your men, enter once more the temple. First measure the length and the
breadth of the outer side, and then pace the width and length within.
By this shall you know, my son, where is the wall that holds the secret
door and, knowing this, unstop the end of this tube and hold it above
the seams and marks upon the stone. Thus will it reveal to you where is
the door and which the solid rock. Having found that which you seek,
the rest is in your hands, O, Itzimin Chac. And now lose no more time,
for the hours pass and never do they come again.”
Handing me the alleged miraculous object, he rose to go. But as he
neared the door, he turned back. “Preserve well that which I have given
unto you,” he admonished me. “In time of need it may serve as well for
a weapon as for finding the hidden doorway. And--mayhap, if you flee
across the Bridge of Light with the rescued maiden, it may serve you
well within that Cavern of the Bats.”
* * * * *
FOR a space I remained motionless, pondering on the strange words of
the sorcerer, staring at the harmless-looking bamboo in my hand. Had I
not known Nohul Voh so well, I should have thought him mad. How could
this thing reveal a door in the rock wall of the temple? How could it
“serve as a weapon,” unless I threw it at someone or used it as a club?
Of what use could it be if--and the _if_ loomed very large indeed--I
ever reached the Cave of the Bats with Itza?
“Let us go!” exclaimed the prince. “Great is the wisdom of Nohul Voh.
With his help shall we find Itza.”
There was no harm in trying. I had intended to take the sorcerer’s
hint and measure the temple and find where the secret chambers were
situated, and calling our men together we hurried to the base of the
great Kus.
Carefully we paced the base on two sides. Then, entering the deserted
passages, we repeated the operation within. To accomplish this was no
easy matter, and I fumed and fretted at the time consumed in doing it.
In no spot could we pace the whole length or width--walls, corners,
columns and partitions intervened--but by measuring one room or
passage, allowing for the thickness of the wall, and measuring the next
and so on, we satisfied ourselves that the width of the place was so
nearly that of the outer surface that no large secret chambers could be
there. But the length fell far short of that on the outside. In fact,
it was not half the extent, and somewhere beyond the sculptured wall
that blocked us, we felt sure that Kinchi Haman, his followers and my
Itza were concealed.
Wondering, uneasy, nervous, the men gathered about at our orders.
Skeptically, with no confidence whatever, I unstopped the bamboo
and pointed the open end at the massive masonry wall. I uttered an
involuntary ejaculation of wonder. Azcopil started and leaped back.
Before us a large circular area of the rock glowed with brilliant red
light! It was as if I held a powerful electric flashlight with a red
bulb in my hand, yet no light, no rays streamed from the uncanny thing.
Deep sighs of wonder came from the awed soldiers as, still wondering,
I moved it back and forth, up and down, searching the stonework for
signs of a door. Every detail of the wall was clearly illuminated. Of
course, that was what Nohul Voh had meant. The thing would give us
light to find the door. He loved to surround everything with mystery.
But there was nothing so very mysterious about the invention after all.
It was probably some radium compound--he had warned me it would burn
flesh--but if so, how could bamboo protect me? Perhaps it was some
other substance, something unknown to the rest of the world. Well, in
that case, it was most interesting--would be a priceless thing if it
could be commercialized. But, after all, as far as finding the door was
concerned, it was no better than an ordinary torch. Such thoughts ran
through my brain, as anxiously, impatiently I went slowly, carefully
over the stonework with the prince beside me, for after the first
surprise he had no further fear of the seemingly magic light.
Suddenly he sprang forward. Under the glare from the tube a beautiful
bas-relief was clearly outlined, glowing as readily as though carved on
the surface of a gigantic ruby. It was an enormous thing, sculptured
on the faces of a dozen great stone blocks so well joined that the
cement-filled seams were scarcely visible. All this I took in at a
glance. Then I saw what had attracted the prince. As sharp and clear,
as though painted in black pigment upon the stones, was the outline of
a rectangle!
“Itzimin, look, the door!” ejaculated the prince.
I stared. Stepping close, I reached out my hand, feeling for the wide
crevice that appeared to be there. But my fingers touched solid rock.
There was no crack, no crevice! What did it mean? What miracle was
this? That a door was there seemed indisputable. A door invisible
without that glow, a door indetectable by touch, yet outlined in its
entirety by the strange light emanating from the tube. Nohul Voh
was right. The thing had revealed the hidden door. But how? Even in
my impatience, my mad desire to force the portal, I found myself
wondering, striving to solve the puzzle. Then, as I played the glow
here and there, following the outlines of that hermetically sealed
opening, I began to understand. Wherever there was solid rock,
wherever there was cement or mortar the mysterious compound within the
tube--some radium compound I now felt sure--caused the red glow. But
where there was crack or crevice, an opening too minute even to see or
feel, a black line was revealed. But my thoughts were cut short by a
new discovery.
As the light or emanations of the tube flashed upon the floor close
to the wall, a smaller, black rectangle showed. Just above it, upon
the wall, the sculptured foot of the carved god was outlined in black,
and the ornate sandal-fastening showed as a black mass. With a quick
motion, Azcopil grasped the ring-shaped ornament. The god’s foot swung
inward. With a slight grating noise the rectangular stone in the floor
moved upwards, and peering within the cavity revealed a metal lever.
Stooping, I grasped it, pulled upon it. It moved smoothly, easily, and
slowly the outlined section of the wall vanished before our eyes.