Cuauhtémoc: Deception and Treason

By D L Davies

Book 4. Deception and Treason is the final of four books; It covers from when Maya first becomes a known world power; touches on their developments of a mechanically powered ship; covers the deception's and treason's among many nations, including: the pirates; England; Maya and other times and places. In naming and creating each book as well as

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bookside Press
• Release date: Oct 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781998784349

D L Davies

D L Davies is 3/4 Caucasian;1/4 American Indian, age 81 and holding; have quite a good memory; He actually remembers being inside his mother's womb as well as birth; not as a full-length movie but as a series of color snap-shots. Have always loved books; long before He could read. He loves to look at books and make-up stories to go along with the pictures. Once loved outdoors but the aging process has reduced that considerably. Have at least a dozen more stories in his head. Only time will tell if he gets them all told.

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Copyright © 2022 by D L Davies

ISBN: 978-1-998784-33-2 (Paperback)

978-1-998784-34-9 (E-book)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

The views expressed in this book are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 1

Nothing in nature can relax better than a cat. At the moment Cuauhtémoc, Emperor of Maya, lay supine on his back with his four paws dangling above his body. His wife Isadora held a currying comb, one she recently used on her brother’s stallion, and she gently brushed his mottled chest. His other three wives busied themselves with the hairbrushes and combs they normally used on themselves, and while Eilei brushed his throat, Yvette carefully and methodically curried his lower limbs. Trixie had a comb and was working his whiskers over: none of these things were needed because, being a cat, his tongue could do all of this and so much more.

Quoholocet stood with his brothers and father as they watched; he turned to H’ratli and nudged him with his elbow. Do you recall the time when Inca threw the sword halfway across the throne room; do you remember what you said? You told us you used to envy Inca and then you gave us your litany as to why. Do you recall what you said right after that?

H’ratli began to grin: Yes; I told you that I was past envy and I was now green-eyed, gut-twisting, soul-searing jealous.

Yes; exactly; it must be contagious because now I am as well. Everyone understood his words were not because Inca was now in the form of a jaguar but because four beautiful young girls were busily brushing him from appetite to tail and fussing over the way his whiskers stuck out from around his mouth.

Cuauhtémoc lay with his eyes half-closed, obviously enjoying the attention of his four wives. At Quoholocet’s words his green-gold eyes opened and moved about, staring at his three brothers who stood in a small cluster, discussing him. He looked at Quoholocet for a brief moment and then slowly, languorously, perhaps a third of his tongue slid out of his mouth, aimed itself at his oldest brother, and then in as relaxed a movement withdrew itself back into his mouth. The three brothers chuckled softly and shook their heads.

You realize this changes everything; Imhoquotep declared after a few moments’ thought; I mean; how do we address him now? Do we still call him Greatest Mayan, Inca, or just, ‘Here kitty, kitty, kitty’?

For no more than a blink of an eye he lay on his back with wives on all sides; in the next blink he flipped himself over, scattering girls and in the same blink, stood on all fours, facing his brothers. He wrinkled his muzzle and seemed to start coughing, Hur, hur, hur, he said, his mouth towards the rooftop; for a moment it looked as if he were trying to hack up a hairball. Hur, hur, hur, he continued softly; his brothers watched him for an instant more and then H’ratli connected.

"He’s laughing! H’ratli exclaimed in disbelief. Once he put his finger on it, it became obvious to all that is exactly what was happening. He stood for a few brief moments more, still making the same sounds and then his left legs collapsed under him and he rolled first onto his side and from there onto his back. His hind feet kicked feebly at the sky and his head was full back while his forepaws dangled above his chest, useless.

No, my son has the giggles, the old emperor said and then he too began to laugh. The old man clearly remembered the very first day Cuauhtémoc was there; they were all in that small garden area and one of the guardsmen was sent to bring back some items from the birdman’s wings. The guard returned, and when one of his fellow-guards cracked wise, he stared at the child: What have I missed? he had exclaimed in horror. Even Cuauhtémoc’s position was the same. Within a few heartbeats everyone on the rooftop understood and then all were laughing.

For a short time, laugh was all that anyone did, and then Cuauhtémoc managed to roll back over and onto his feet. He stood there for just a flicker of time and then he began to shake. The motion started with his nose and seemed to work its way the length of his body, ending with the tip of his tail lashing furiously.

Well; what I say is we keep him in this form, H’ratli said, as he stared at the great cat before him. He stopped and gazed around him: Just think, all we’ll have to do is slip him a goat or something every once in a while, maybe provide him with a bowl of fresh water and a large sandbox—emperor-sized, of course; he’ll be way cheaper to keep this way. The best part of all, is, we won’t have to listen to him talk all the time. He stared at the mottled form before him and grinned.

Cuauhtémoc’s mouth formed a half-snarl and he coughed slightly and then a soft growl escaped him; What makes— you think— this shape, will—keep me— from talking? The voice that came from his mouth was raspy and feline in sound but within the half-snarls and growls the words were clearly understood.

H’ratli threw his hands up into the air and turned and walked a few paces away; stopped and came back: I give up, he said in surrender, that was my best shot at bringing peace and quiet to the Palace.

Haven’t you learned yet, does defeat taste that good to you? Imhoquotep asked.

"Yeah; I’ve eaten so much of it these last few years that it tastes just fine; I knew we should have tossed the little weasel off the roof the moment—" Cuauhtémoc in his current state was staring at the doorway that led up to the rooftop; he wrinkled his nose and hissed a warning, stopping H’ratli in mid-sentence. Some, come, he rowled softly and then looking at one of his guards he made a chin-jut, although in his present condition it was more of a nose-point, stared at the doorway and shook his head.

I got it, Greatest Mayan, I won’t let anyone else up here; the guardsman said and he moved over and stepped inside the opening just as three men tried to come out onto the roof.

Um; we would like to speak to the Greatest Mayan, if that is possible, the spokesman for the group said.

You’ll have to wait; our Emperor is, ah, not quite feeling himself at the moment; the guard said, giggling nervously.

Cuauhtémoc stood behind the guard and well to his left where the three men could not see him; he shook his head and then padded over to where his father stood, avidly watching things happen. He put himself directly before his father and then reared up, balancing on his hindquarters and patted his chest with his forepaws. The old man needed no explanations and no second invitation, he immediately moved forward and Cuauhtémoc draped his paws over his father’s shoulders, and as he had H’ratli, pulled him forward. For just a moment in time the old Emperor found himself hugging the biggest jaguar he could have imagined and then in a blink he felt his son’s arms around him. He knew what to do when Inca hugged him; he hugged back.

Cuauhtémoc turned towards Quoholocet and held out his hand for his headdress; Quoholocet moved forward and deftly placed it upon Inca’s head. He looked at both of his brothers. You need not worry about being turned into a bowel movement, my brother; I doubt that you would taste very good, and besides, I think I would miss you overly much. He turned and gazed at Quoholocet for a bit and then shook his head. I honestly do not believe I am a god but it is possible that I am becoming one. I make no claims or denials in either direction.

His two brothers looked at him and flinched visibly. He glanced around at those who were on the rooftop with him. H’ratli; I want again to take time out to thank you, Zanthraxica, and Trixie for keeping my secret. You now have my permission to tell those who are here the things that you saw up in the Aimara Palace, and just to let you know, the senses of the great cats are incredible. As such, I can both hear and smell things we Mayan don’t even have words for. I wish I could explain better but I cannot. He nodded to his brothers and the rest, bowed politely to his father and then turned and walked up to the guard at the door who was keeping the three men back. Not feeling myself? he asked the man and grinned: the soldier flinched and grinned back.

He turned to the three men who stood before him; You have made some progress on the devices to push my wings through the air? he asked politely.

No, Greatest Mayan, unfortunately; making anything that small is beyond our abilities at the moment. We think we should start out large and try to perfect the methodology, and then once that is done, concentrate on scaling things down to work on wings.

The spokesman for the three looked up at his Emperor’s face anxiously. This was not his actual orders and a displeased Emperor is one thing no sane servant wishes to face. Inca was aware of this fact and schooled himself to carefully keep his expression pleasant as possible, or at least neutral, lest he give a servant a coronary.

This seems logical, he admitted; please continue and tell me what you have done so far. I presume you must have something to report or you wouldn’t be here.

"Truth; Greatest Mayan. Among our colleagues there is one who comes from a country he calls the Netherlands. He speaks of great devises he calls windmills. He says his people make stone towers that support great blades of enormous size, not unlike the wings that you use. But these blades are mounted in such a way that when the wind blows, it turns the blades on a shaft and this shaft rotates, which is diverted by gears and belts to grind their grain below: that sort of thing.

"In speaking with some of your sailors, we have learned of something they call the doldrums. As we understand it, the winds almost always blow across the ocean, pushing the ships towards their various destinations. But for reasons no one can guess; there can be a place where wind doesn’t blow at all. In such a case the ocean is smooth and calm without any waves and a ship caught within this becomes victim to the circumstances and can exist like this for many weeks. Without wind to blow the ship onward to a port, the sailors run out of provisions and either starve to death or die of dehydration, because in a true twist of irony, the water the ship floats in cannot be drunk.

Now, what we think is—

"You mean; what you think," the third of the three said, interrupting his friend. He, in turn, gave the man a glare. Cuauhtémoc noticed that the spokesman for the group almost always did all of the talking. Occasionally the second man, the one who had once carried a bag full of exceedingly dangerous things over his shoulder in a thoughtless way, would speak up. The third man rarely said anything at all, but at the moment he glared back at his companion, and then turned his attention onto his Emperor.

Please let me finish, the spokesman demanded. The third one looked at his associate and gave a single nod of his head, but from the expression on his face, Inca knew whatever it may be, he disagreed completely. Cuauhtémoc looked at the spokesman and also gave a single nod of his head.

Thank you, Greatest Mayan. As I started to say, we are aware of the doldrums and the things that take place. What we believe, or rather, what I believe; and he gave his friend a glance. This one looked back and bowed slightly. Thank you, he said to his co-worker. What I believe, he gave another side-glance at his friend, is since wind power can create mechanical motion, we should be able to use an engine to turn a mechanical motion into rotary. If this were done, one could mount a smaller version of a windmill on the back of a ship, and then if the doldrums should happen, or even if a ship needed greater speed, to escape pirates let’s say, all the sailors would have to do is make this windmill blow air up into the sails and the ship should move forward as all such do. The speaker stopped and stared at his comrade.

That one shook his head decisively and then looked up at his Emperor; May I now speak, Greatest Mayan? Cuauhtémoc nodded his head. "Thank you. What my comrade says makes sense; but only up to a point. I am aware you are exceedingly intelligent and there seems to be nothing you do not know. Speak and tell me if what I have to say sounds logical to you.

The deck of a ship is like so, and the man gestured with his right arm held parallel to the rooftop. The mast of a ship is like this, and he bent his left arm at his elbow and held it straight up. As the wind blows against the sails, he spread his fingers apart and pressed against his left hand with his right fist, it blows the sails forward which in turn act through the ship’s deck, down into its keel and this force moves the ship forward.

You have just proved why I am right, the speaker snapped. He would have said more but Inca gave him a single disapproving glance and the man swallowed his bile. This was obviously an argument between the two; and their emperor wanted to hear both sides of the thought before he even tried to reach a decision.

You do understand ships, do you not, Greatest Mayan? the third man asked politely.

That is so, he admitted, I have always been interested in everything in this world that we live in. Well before I was chosen as emperor I spent a great amount of time down on the docks observing and even helping at times in the reconstruction of these ships. I am so bold as to believe I understand them better than anyone in the City of Emperors, and if not that, at least those of us who stand here: please continue.

The three men and their Emperor stepped out of the doorway in case others needed to leave or come onto the rooftop and the four of them were surrounded by the old emperor as well as his sons, and those who normally serve and guard, and all were watching and listening; fascinated.

Thank you, Greatest Mayan, the one said. While it is so that the air from such a devise would indeed billow the sails out, it must also in turn drive the air that does so. If the windmill is pushing air in one direction, and he again gestured with his hands, it must obviously have thrust against the blades. This produces a force that moves in one direction by creating a force that wishes to move in the opposite direction. Under no circumstances will such a devise move anything. The one folded his arms across his chest and stared at his compatriot in an unyielding glare.

Cuauhtémoc looked first at the one who had just spoken, and then at the other whose eyes were wary, but not willing to concede defeat. He is correct, he said, placing his right hand on the shoulder of the one who had just finished talking. And you are wrong, he ended up, placing his left hand on the other one’s shoulder.

"Within the last few months a scholar has come to us from a place called Germany. He worked at the University in Heidelberg and he informed me shortly after coming here he had been run out of the country because he believes our world is round and not flat as many there persist in thinking. The only ones in Maya who speak his language are Son of Spain and me. Son of Spain was especially pleased to meet him because Herr Geither also speaks and reads Greek, a language that has plagued our brother since well before his arrival in our city.

In any case, Herr Geither is a mathematician, one who deals in numbers and he speaks that many things about us can be mathematically expressed as vectors. As we stand here, gravity is a vector that pulls us downward and the ground beneath our feet, or in this case the rooftop beneath our feet, is yet another vector that pushes us up. As long as these two vectors, the up and the down, cancel each other out, stasis is achieved and we don’t move. There are many motions, such as walking across the floor, and these are also vectors and can be expressed in mathematical terms. Inca looked at H’ratli and gave him a nod. "Herr Geither speaks that flight as we know it can also be expressed in these numbers of his. As I understand it, he was well regarded in Heidelberg, once you eliminate the round world thing. I do not question Herr Geither could explain in vectors why your idea will not work—he aimed this comment at the spokesman for the group—but I suggest you do not look him up and ask him just yet. He does not speak Mayan very well, and what he does, has an accent you couldn’t cut with a temmo.

Other than this minor setback, do you have anything else you wish to report? he asked politely.

The spokesman stared at his emperor for a moment and then shook his head, clearing his mind in the process. "I concede I don’t quite understand your rational, Greatest Mayan, but until someone proves otherwise I will accept your words. We have been working on a scale prototype of a device that is called an engine. We have been talking to some of the other instructors in your university you are building and a Frenchman named Monsieur Maurice—who by the way has been with you for quite some time now and speaks excellent Mayan—has explained to us if one reduces a substance down in size to the smallest unit that can still be that thing, it is a molecule. He has further told us that before France became so filled with unrest, many of his colleagues were studying this very thing and they discovered if that single molecule of water is broken down even further, you are left with atoms of both hydrogen and oxygen. He even explained how he and others of his kind released these two different atoms by passing some kind of electricity through plates, freeing the atoms.

Because you have not given us permission to discuss such with others we did not mention this accidental plating that seems to free these same atoms up. What we have established, is that for one, as these atoms boil off they can create considerable pressure if they are not permitted to vent themselves freely into the atmosphere. For the second thing, Monsieur Maurice assures us these two substances will combust very willingly, which is part of what we saw when we demonstrated it to you and the torch began to burn with pale blue flames. We now believe if these two were brought together and ignited, they would burn very quickly, perhaps even explode, and thereby release energy. This, at least in theory, could power some device which could in turn move giant blades around, pushing air in whichever direction that would work and thereby move your ships and possibly even the wings you asked us about. Unfortunately, in the process of trying things out, we spent the entire bonus you gave us and we cannot continue further.

Let me make sure I understand you. At this moment you don’t actually have anything to show me but you came because you have spent all of the gold that I gave you as a bonus on trying to make these things that I have asked of you? His face was carefully neutral as he stared at them. The three looked him in the eyes and nodded.

I do indeed understand. What I don’t understand is why you had to spend your own money. Did I not make it clear to you three all such things you build for me, belong to me, and therefore I will pay all such costs?

Yes; Greatest Mayan that is what you told us. Unfortunately; your Purser doesn’t see it that way. When we asked for such funds he denied it, saying we had no papers to prove this is so. And when we went to him today to see about being repaid what we had spent, he denied that, saying that we had no authorization for such. The speaker of the group bowed respectfully before his emperor as he finished his words.

Now that is odd; Cuauhtémoc said softly. I have a very good memory. In fact, I’ve never forgotten anything in my entire life, and I clearly remember telling my Purser he was to give you such monies as you need; and in turn would require a written list of what you spent the monies on. I presume he did not mention this to you?

The three men exchanged surprised glances; No, Greatest Mayan, no mention of such details were ever discussed.

I believe we should go down to the treasury room now and get this matter settled. I’m quite sure my Purser understood my words because I was careful to phrase it very clearly. I suspect all such men come from a common source, since in every case the gold does not belong to them, and in every case they seem to think it does. He turned to his guardsmen, beckoning them near. I wish you three to follow us to the Treasury, he said; the men bowed before him and nodded.

Cuauhtémoc turned and glanced at his father and brothers. H’ratli was just beginning what was undoubtedly the tale of when he destroyed the false Inca and put his father, the Great Healer on the throne as his grandfather, Texaquahotyl intended. He smiled, nodded, and turned and followed by the six men he wound his way through the palace’s hallways. He started to turn the corner that led to the Treasury door when he suddenly stopped, stuck his left hand out and stepped back, halting the rest. He took a long glance down the hall. He clearly saw his Purser looking up and down the length of the corridor and his movements seemed oddly furtive.

The Purser looked around again, and then turned back into the treasury and from his position, seemed to be talking to someone. Cuauhtémoc pulled back and turned to the three men who worked for him, discovering new things. It may just be a coincidence but my Purser seems to be acting strange. What I want you to do is go down, use the doorknocker if needed, and get his attention. Ask him yet again for more money for your project but do not mention you have seen me or that I am here. If you can, try to move past the treasury door so he will be looking away from the rest of us. As I said, this may be a coincidence, but something feels wrong.

The three bowed deeply and then backed away and rounded the corner. They had enough sense to walk on the furthest side of the hallway as they approached the door. This way if the Purser did stick his head out again, he would probably focus on them and not on part of a head peeking around a distant corner. They walked past the door and then turned as if coming from the opposite direction. The leader of the group was just reaching for the doorknocker when the door opened: most of the doors in the Mayan world opened inward and this was no exception. The Purser started to step outside his room when he spotted them.

What! Why are you three here? I told you before that no monies can possibly be paid out until the first of the next month. Go now, and do not return, or I will call the guards on you.

Yes; guards; there weren’t any. That in itself was odd. Cuauhtémoc beckoned to the three guards who followed him and the four paced down the hallway as quietly as they were able.

We have come to ask again for replacement for the thirty in gold the Greatest Mayan gave us. As we told you before, we spent it on devises for the Emperor, and he has told us we are to be reimbursed.

The Emperor has given me no such orders, the Purser snapped, I will not give you a single copper more until the first of the month. Now be gone or I shall have you arrested and beaten for trying to take more than your fair share.

I’ve given you no such orders; Purser? Cuauhtémoc said softly as he stepped up quietly behind the man. To the contrary, I gave you specific commands you were to give my servants monies as needed, as long as the amount wasn’t unseemly, and as long as they provided papers on how the money is used.

The Purser whipped around and saw his Emperor and guardsmen standing directly before him. He gave a bleat of fright and tried to duck back into the treasury and slam the door closed but Cuauhtémoc was much too quick and even as the man tried to shut the door, Inca hit it in the middle with both hands, and the door, made of solid teak, flew backwards into the Purser’s face, knocking him to the floor. As he scrambled to his feet Cuauhtémoc and his guards entered the treasury and four other men within the room stared at him in growing alarm.

It . . . it’s not what you think, Greatest Mayan, his Purser stammered.

Now you know what I think even before I’ve thought it? he asked politely.

Please, Great One, let me explain, one of the four men said anxiously. Cuauhtémoc stared at the man and for just a moment there was a kind of doubling in his mind. He knew this one, had known him in the past but couldn’t quite put his mental finger on it, which was unusual; given his memory . . . then the sound of his voice brought it all into focus in the blink of an eye.

Yes, please do explain; I am most anxious to hear you, he said graciously.

Well, Great One, he said, getting his story straight in his head, this one here, your Purser, has hired us to keep this room neat and clean, to make sure the floors are properly mopped, the dust swept away and to make certain no cobwebs are within this room because he says that he wants this place as clean as possible in case his great Emperor should pay him a visit.

The Purser stared at the man for just a moment, and then he began to nod his head, almost frantically; You see, Greatest Mayan, nothing is wrong, I—

Shut up! Cuauhtémoc snapped; when I want anything out of you I shall ask. He turned back to the man and looked at him thoughtfully. What you say makes a certain amount of sense, he said, causing all five men to start nodding their heads as one, like puppets controlled by a single hand. So tell me, how often do you come in here to clean, once a week perhaps?

Oh yes; Great One; that is our agreement, once a week, every week.

I see . . . but how do you do this service since I see no mops or brooms or cleaning rags or even a pail of water?

The man stared at him for just a moment and then broke into a broad smile. Yes, Great One, I see how the confusion comes; we are just now hired to do this thing.

So you haven’t actually started?

Well, no, Great One. Only today have we come here seeking work.

I see. Tell me, how long have you been in our country, then? Inca asked.

Only three days, Great One, and the Spaniard gave him the benefit of his largest smile. This was a smile that Cuauhtémoc knew well since this was the same Spaniard who had first started teaching him Spanish up in the Northern Soldier’s camp some five years earlier. At the time he was a prisoner being held with many pirates who made an ill-conceived attack on Mayan shores. Why anyone would start a fight with a large garrison of well-equipped and trained soldiers; was always a mystery to him. Unless, of course, they were unaware it was a soldier’s camp until it was too late. He had written to the Spaniard, offering him a job at the palace as a language teacher but he had never responded and the map-maker also vanished about the same time. Inca always presumed that one or both of them had met up with one of the jungle’s carnivores or other such creature and were no more. At the time, the Spaniard was a dirty, skinny wretch of a man, which was the main reason he did not recognized him immediately. It was the sound of his speaking voice that brought it into focus for him; as all people speak slightly differently. Their word-usage, the inflections placed upon the words, even the rate of their speech and the expressions on their faces and their gestures are unique to the individual, and unless the person understands this to be so and intentionally alters these things, they are as identifiable as fingerprints.

Only three days? That is amazing, and you speak our language so well, he said.

Yes; Great One. As you must already be aware, your great nation has become famous all over the world. Even in far-away Spain we have heard of you. Things are hard in Spain and only the wealthy have money. For the rest of us, even a steady, paying job is often only a dream. Many of my people know this to be true, and so we get aboard ship however we can and we come to Maya to seek honest labor for monies received. There was no guile in the Spaniard’s face, nothing that would give hint that he was lying, a thing that Cuauhtémoc knew to be so.

You speak our language very well for one who has been here for only three days, he pointed out; the man nodded his head, a broad smile on his face.

"Truth, he said in Spanish; and then continued in Mayan. But you see, many of your own people now work the seas in different ships and with several months with little else to do than climb the rigging, it was easy to get your men to teach me these things, and I have always understood such very quickly. I am most intelligent that way."

Again there was nothing in the man’s face that would indicate he was lying. Cuauhtémoc stared at the Spaniard, fascinated, because liars always give themselves away through subconscious mannerisms and there was nothing within the man’s eyes, face or stance that would show otherwise. Had he not already met this one before, he would have accepted his words as truth, and thought no more about it.

As you can see, Greatest Mayan, there is no wrong—

Chapter 2

He turned on his Purser and gave him a cold stare. Such a glance could instantly freeze a glass of water to the bottom at several long paces. As he looked at his Purser he knew without doubt his servant was lying. All of the things the Spaniard did not have in his eyes and face, his Purser did, and he could see sweat pouring off the man’s forehead. In fact, he was exactly as his father’s healer had been, when Inca first discovered the healer had presumably just murdered his father.

He turned to the guardsman standing next to the Purser, making sure he didn’t make a sudden break for it. A thing that would have been a minor nuisance at best since two more of his guards stood between the Purser and the door and from the collective expressions on their faces, the fated would have not gained more than a very few short steps before they would have put him on the floor; one way or the other.

Bind him, he said calmly, once that is done I want you, and he put his hand on his chosen guard’s shoulder with a gentle pat, to take the covering off your spear and place the point against this one’s throat. As I have mentioned before in your presence, back before I was twelve, I saw a spearman put a spear up against the then-Wingmaster’s throat and tell him if he even blinked in a way that he, the guardsman, didn’t like, he would shove the point out his right ear. I have always wondered if this is possible, considering all the bone in the way. But if this one, and he gave a single nod at the terrified Purser, gives us anymore trouble I would be very pleased if you would find out for me—you know; I’ve always wondered about that! He gave his head a slight shake and turned his attention back to the other four men.

He looked them over; three of the men looked very tense, almost like rats caught in a trap, their black eyes darting about, searching for a way out. The Spaniard he met so long ago smiled up at him, his face relaxed; he, at least, showed no sign of stress, a thing that under the circumstances seemed very strange to him.

You don’t recognize me; do you? he asked the Spaniard politely.

Why, no, Great One; if I had ever met you before I would surely remember it.

He thought for a moment, glanced at the floor and the man’s feet; he was wearing the buckled-up shoes many of his kind wore and he seemed to be standing oddly. At the moment it didn’t seem important. He looked at the man: Mother of God, save us; it is the demons from the pit, back again he said slowly in Spanish, as he stared the man in his eyes. For just a brief moment the Spaniard stared back, a confused expression on his face and then like sunlight streaming through parting clouds, his face lit up.

Patrón; it is you! he exclaimed joyously in Spanish; there was nothing in the Spaniard’s face that showed anything but endless delight. I have wondered what became of you, he continued; You have grown up so tall and so handsome, it is no wonder I did not recognize you—this is the one who saved me from the pirates and gave me back my life, he said to the three men who were watching warily.

You do remember the pirates then? Inca asked softly.

Of course, Patrón; how could I possibly forget their cruelty to me and others and how you brought me out from among them? I tell you, Patrón, not a day has gone by I have not blessed you to the Great God of us all.

How long ago was that? he asked.

A long time ago; Patrón. Sometimes I have trouble remembering how these things came to be but I do recall that it was many years back.

Yet you just told me that you have only been here for three days. The Spaniard looked up at him, a bewildered expression on his face. He paused in thought and nodded slowly.

Yes, that is also true, Patrón; I have only been here in your city for three days. Ah! Now I understand the confusion. The Spaniard’s eyes and face filled with a child-like delight. When I was young I was an alter boy in the church that served our town. Our Padre told us that all things are possible in God. So I have both been here many years and I have also only just come; see how easy it is to understand? He flashed that brilliant smile that Cuauhtémoc remembered so well; and