new supply of paper, thanks to Don Felipe. Beyond the barred window the star glows in the west. The trial continues tomorrow, whether the notes arrive or not. But perhaps I will have time to write down the details of our journey to Nexpan, City of the Abyss, and of the stream we found there, which was strewn with gold.
13
T WELVE DAYS FROM H ÃWIKUH, the last day through heavy stands of pine and spruce, we came near evening to a break in the forest. In the distance rose a series of cliffs, at the same height we were traveling, scarlet-tinted and oddly shaped, like spires, terraced walls, and battlements.
Captain Mendoza reined in his horse. "
Hola!
" he shouted, "the scarlet cliffs!"
He need not have shouted, for we all saw. Throughout the day, every league we traveled, we had looked for the scarlet cliffs, the sign that marked the location of Nexpan, City of the Abyss. Or so Captain Mendoza had been told by the cacique of the sixth village of the six villages near Háwikuh.
At the foot of the cliffs, the chieftain had said, wound a mighty river. And near the river, at a place marked by three pinnacles (here, according to Roa, the chieftain had made three marks on the ground) was a large city, which could be reached by following a stream that ran into the river.
The chieftain said nothing about the presence of gold in the city. It was for this reason that Mendoza believed him, this alone, and decided to make the journey.
"Where is the river?" Zuñiga asked.
"Below the cliffs," said Torres. "Where you cannot see it."
"What if there is no river?" Zuñiga asked.
"Or no city,"Roa said.
"Then we return to Háwikuh," I answered.
"Though we find the city," Roa said, "will it not be another like Red House?"
"Or like Háwikuh," Zuñiga said. "Where we fight with few against many."
Father Francisco, gathering things among the trees, said nothing. Nor did Mendoza, but he led us on toward the scarlet cliffs where the last light hung.
The cliffs retreated, or seemed to, then the light died and darkness gathered among the trees. As we were about to halt for the night, a small wind sprang up. It smelled not of pines but of
mizquitl
bushes and open spaces.
My horse pricked up its ears, and at the head of the column, Mendoza's roan suddenly neighed. It was a warning, a sound of fear, which chilled my blood and brought us all to a halt.
I sprang to the ground but held onto the reins. Fighting the heavy Spanish bit, the roan neighed again. Father Francisco hobbled past me in the darkness and I followed, leaving my horse. I came to a flat place, a rock ledge. The sky was lighter than the earth and against it I saw Francisco standing with arms outstretched.
"A chasm," he cried, "an abyss bigger than half the world."
I groped my way to him across the ledge. Below us lay blackness, fold upon fold, deep and endless. From it a warm breeze welled upward, as if the earth itself were breathing.
The others came and stood beside us. Roa found a stone, which he threw out into the darkness, and we waited for it to strike. Second followed second and we heard nothing. Then, far and faint, a sound, a rustle like a leaf falling, drifted up from below.
"Holy Mother," someone whispered.
One by one we silently crept back into the trees, away from the Abyss. We tethered the animals and ate supper and lay down, but few of us slept. At daybreak we went to the ledge where we had stood the night before.
There we found a rampart of rock, shaped like a great sickle. Below its rim, as if sheared off in one mighty stroke, the rampart fell downward for more than a league. At its foot was a wide bench covered with stones that had fallen from above. A pine which grew there seemed no larger than a bush. Many leagues away, at the eastern boundaries of the Abyss, stood the scarlet cliffs we had seen at dusk.
For a long time, no one spoke. Then Mendoza raised his sword, claiming all that lay before us in the name of His Cesarean Majesty,
13
T WELVE DAYS FROM H ÃWIKUH, the last day through heavy stands of pine and spruce, we came near evening to a break in the forest. In the distance rose a series of cliffs, at the same height we were traveling, scarlet-tinted and oddly shaped, like spires, terraced walls, and battlements.
Captain Mendoza reined in his horse. "
Hola!
" he shouted, "the scarlet cliffs!"
He need not have shouted, for we all saw. Throughout the day, every league we traveled, we had looked for the scarlet cliffs, the sign that marked the location of Nexpan, City of the Abyss. Or so Captain Mendoza had been told by the cacique of the sixth village of the six villages near Háwikuh.
At the foot of the cliffs, the chieftain had said, wound a mighty river. And near the river, at a place marked by three pinnacles (here, according to Roa, the chieftain had made three marks on the ground) was a large city, which could be reached by following a stream that ran into the river.
The chieftain said nothing about the presence of gold in the city. It was for this reason that Mendoza believed him, this alone, and decided to make the journey.
"Where is the river?" Zuñiga asked.
"Below the cliffs," said Torres. "Where you cannot see it."
"What if there is no river?" Zuñiga asked.
"Or no city,"Roa said.
"Then we return to Háwikuh," I answered.
"Though we find the city," Roa said, "will it not be another like Red House?"
"Or like Háwikuh," Zuñiga said. "Where we fight with few against many."
Father Francisco, gathering things among the trees, said nothing. Nor did Mendoza, but he led us on toward the scarlet cliffs where the last light hung.
The cliffs retreated, or seemed to, then the light died and darkness gathered among the trees. As we were about to halt for the night, a small wind sprang up. It smelled not of pines but of
mizquitl
bushes and open spaces.
My horse pricked up its ears, and at the head of the column, Mendoza's roan suddenly neighed. It was a warning, a sound of fear, which chilled my blood and brought us all to a halt.
I sprang to the ground but held onto the reins. Fighting the heavy Spanish bit, the roan neighed again. Father Francisco hobbled past me in the darkness and I followed, leaving my horse. I came to a flat place, a rock ledge. The sky was lighter than the earth and against it I saw Francisco standing with arms outstretched.
"A chasm," he cried, "an abyss bigger than half the world."
I groped my way to him across the ledge. Below us lay blackness, fold upon fold, deep and endless. From it a warm breeze welled upward, as if the earth itself were breathing.
The others came and stood beside us. Roa found a stone, which he threw out into the darkness, and we waited for it to strike. Second followed second and we heard nothing. Then, far and faint, a sound, a rustle like a leaf falling, drifted up from below.
"Holy Mother," someone whispered.
One by one we silently crept back into the trees, away from the Abyss. We tethered the animals and ate supper and lay down, but few of us slept. At daybreak we went to the ledge where we had stood the night before.
There we found a rampart of rock, shaped like a great sickle. Below its rim, as if sheared off in one mighty stroke, the rampart fell downward for more than a league. At its foot was a wide bench covered with stones that had fallen from above. A pine which grew there seemed no larger than a bush. Many leagues away, at the eastern boundaries of the Abyss, stood the scarlet cliffs we had seen at dusk.
For a long time, no one spoke. Then Mendoza raised his sword, claiming all that lay before us in the name of His Cesarean Majesty,
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