Lord Of Zaracus

Anderson grinned. ‘I guess I am. But if you’d been there, in that massive pyramid, and seen the throne of the Mayans, built to look like a jaguar, painted red and studded with jade, and knew for a fact that it was at least fourteen or fifteen hundred years old, you’d have been impressed, just as we were. That’s why I’m hooked. I want to know how they built their cities, why they made them in a certain way, these ancient Aztec tribes.’

Carolyn was interested in spite of herself. ‘Still,’ she said, ‘I didn’t realise Dad was so far south when I agreed to come out. I always imagined Mexico had a pretty temperate climate.’

‘So it has, in parts. Mexico City, for example, but it’s so high up you practically pant if you do anything remotely energetic.’

Carolyn chuckled. ‘At least we’re not short of oxygen here.’

The valley was opening out before her eyes now, and she could distinguish the regimented lines of the coffee-bean plantation, and banana trees. The closely packed trees and foliage looked as though one might be able to walk on them looking down from this height, while the small villages set higher up from the valley floor were merely brown roofs visible among the trees. The colours and scents were an assault on the senses, while the sky above was a brilliant blue as the sun sank a little lower as the day wore on. Now and then they came upon a couple of Mexicans driving small herds of cattle indiscriminately along the highway, for all the world as though they owned that particular stretch of road. Carolyn lit a cigarette, and thought that she was flattering the mud stretch by calling it a highway, or a road.

Her royal blue crimplene slack suit, which had looked so good in London, was beginning to feel like a second skin, and she wished she had thought to change into something cooler in Veracruz. She flicked out her compact and studied her reflection, taking a paper tissue and wiping the damp make-up from her face. Her complexion, already tanned after a holiday in the south of France, required little make-up, but she experimented with various face and skin creams, and in consequence felt awfully greasy. Her eyes, wide spaced and slightly slanted, were a remarkable shade of green, while her nose was small above a mouth that was generous in proportion. She knew she was very attractive, having experienced the usual compliments men made to girls they pursued, but she was completely without conceit and treated her looks as something she was fortunate enough to possess but not exactly responsible for.

Bill Anderson watched her surreptitiously, and Carolyn, aware of his scrutiny, put away the compact and concentrated again on the ever-changing scenery. It appeared an enormous valley, stretches of it out of sight of the road as it descended to floor level. Rocky promontories towered overhead, supporting cactus plants which stood out like sentinels against the sky-line. The pass they had negotiated seemed to be the only access to the valley, and Carolyn said:

‘Doesn’t this Don Carlos whatever his name is find travelling rather arduous from this isolated place?’

Anderson crossed a narrow wooden bridge across the river which had broadened at this point and then shrugged. ‘He doesn’t use the road very often,’ he said. ‘He has a helicopter, and uses that to reach Oaxaca. He’s a very go-ahead fellow, not at all what you’d expect to find in the heart of the Mexican bush.’

‘He must be,’ remarked Carolyn, sardonically. ‘What a pity he didn’t suggest loaning you his helicopter to collect me!’

‘He doesn’t know you are coming,’ replied Anderson, frowning. ‘Your father thought it best to spring it on him. He’s very—oh, I don’t know what you’d call him—maybe, feudal, is the right word. At any rate, I don’t think the idea of a woman joining a group of males on a dig, even if her father is in charge of the expedition, would appeal to him at all. Conditions are pretty primitive, when all’s said and done, and quite frankly I was amazed when Maddie said you were coming.’

Carolyn smiled. ‘As you know my father so well, Bill, it must be painfully apparent to you that there are times when my father can be quite blissfully unaware of his surroundings, and on these digs I think this situation occurs. Besides, it was my idea to come, not his, and, poor darling, I don’t think it would occur to him to refuse me.’

Bill Anderson thought there might be a lot of truth in that. Professor Madison spoiled his youngest daughter abominably. Her two older sisters, both in their teens when she was born, had always treated her in like manner, and as their mother had died soon after Carolyn’s birth, Carolyn had been brought up by a procession of nannies, all of whom had doted on her. In consequence, she might have become a little spoiled, but her nature was so charming, she found it incredibly easy to get her own way. Professor Madison seemed unable to deny her anything, and although Anderson thought he must know that Carolyn was only coming out to Mexico to find some new kind of thrill with which to relieve her boredom he still allowed her to come. Carolyn looked at him, seeing the conflicting emotions on his face, and said with acute perspicacity:

‘You’re thinking Dad ought to have put his foot down and made me stay at home, aren’t you?’

Bill’s ruddy face was scarlet. ‘It’s nothing to do with me,’ he mumbled, awkwardly.

‘Isn’t it? Perhaps not. Oh, Bill, you think I’ve only come for kicks, don’t you?’

‘Well, haven’t you?’

‘No. I wanted to be with Dad, really I did. If only he would let me take a job, do something useful, it would be different. As it is, I spend my days either lying in bed or at some party or race-track or casino. Heavens, I’m only twenty-two, and I don’t really know of anything I particularly can look forward to.’

Bill Anderson looked thoughtful. ‘I’m sorry, Carolyn,’ he said, his smile repentant. ‘But, please, when you get here, remember we’re in the heart of a country of mainly Spanish descent, where the conventions still matter.’

Carolyn slanted her eyes at him. ‘What you mean is: don’t go around in tight slacks and low-cut dresses, don’t you?’

Bill chuckled. ‘Yes, you’ve said it,’ he said.

‘Are they all terribly conservative?’

‘Terribly. At least Don Carlos is, so far as his women are concerned.’

Carolyn’s eyes widened. ‘His women!’ she echoed. ‘How many women does he have?’

Bill grinned. ‘Oh, nothing like that, love. Perish the thought. No, he has two sisters, and then of course there is his fiancée, Louisa Morelos.’

‘I see.’ Carolyn grimaced. ‘Well, don’t worry, William. I’ll be the soul of virtue!’

Bill couldn’t imagine Carolyn in that role, but he hid his doubts and said: ‘Well, we’re almost there. We turn off here, go through this belt of trees, and then you’ll see the encampment.’

Carolyn’s eyes twinkled. ‘Encampment! Heavens, we sound like gypsies.’

‘We are, in a way. At any rate, we sleep in tents, and cook in the open most days.’

Carolyn felt those awful twinges of apprehension. ‘Sounds primitive,’ she murmured, and thought longingly of a shower.

The belt of trees that Bill had mentioned seemed, to Carolyn, like a closely confined piece of jungle. The track, overhung with flowering shrubs and undergrowth, was practically non-existent in places where the rain had combined with the sultry heat to cultivate thick creepers that hid the track from view. She thought it would be a terrible place to lose oneself at night. Beneath the trees the air seemed more humid than ever, and she was glad when the bright sunlight ahead of them heralded the end of the forest.

They emerged into comparatively open country, and now Carolyn could see the moderately large encampment of tents, several jeeps parked alongside, while a delicious smell of cooking made her realise suddenly that she was hungry.

‘Home, sweet home,’ said Bill, with some satisfaction, and Carolyn said:

‘I hope there’s plenty of water. I’m dying to rinse this awful dust off me!’

Bill gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Well, there are showering facilities,’ he remarked, slowly. ‘But I think you might find it a little different from what you’re used to.’

Carolyn spread wide her hands, stretching. ‘The way I feel at the moment, I could strip off and dive into the stream,’ she exclaimed. ‘But it will be nice to see Dad again. And I won’t make too many complaints, I promise.’

Bill brought the Land-Rover bumping across the grassy stretch to where the encampment began. Now that they were closer, Carolyn could see a definite pattern in the layout of the site. Tents, obviously used for sleeping, were grouped at one side, while the cooking and kitchen departments were housed in open-sided marquee-type dwellings. Toilet facilities were not apparently visible, and Carolyn smiled to herself with some derision. Bill had certainly been right to warn her. But she was no defeatist, and she thrust her doubts aside, and as Bill sounded his horn loudly to herald their arrival, she smiled cheerfully, and slid out of the vehicle to greet her father, who came out of one of the tents at the far side of the site, carrying his spectacles, an eye-shield pushed up his forehead. A tall, broad man with greying hair, he looked dear and lovable, and Carolyn forgot all her misgivings and sped across the dusty grass to fling her arms round him exuberantly.

Bill looked on tolerantly, while several other members of the group emerged to find out what was going on. They looked at Carolyn with some indulgence; most of them knew her, and as the majority of the party were in their forties and fifties, the sight of a pretty girl after three months in the bush was a welcome sight.

Carolyn drew back from her father, and he smiled warmly. ‘Good to see you, my dear,’ he said, looking at her with evident satisfaction. ‘You are certainly a sight for sore eyes! Did you have a good journey?’

‘So-so! It was okay until we reached Veracruz. What a terrible road we had to negotiate to get here! I thought I was going to split in two!’

Professor Madison laughed. ‘Not you. You’re not made of glass. You know I had my doubts earlier today, knowing what conditions are like here, but I really think it might be the best thing I’ve ever done for you. After all, you’ve been coddled long enough. It’s time you learned a little about the other side of the coin. Besides, you may find it interesting.’ He glanced around. ‘You remember Donald, don’t you?’ he went on, nodding to the men who were approaching; ‘and Lester, and Tom Revie.’

Carolyn nodded, and greeted the other men. There were seven or eight more on the fringes of the group who she knew less well, but she expected she would soon be familiar with all of them. She wondered what she would do, how she would fill her days, and then decided she would not think ahead, but just take every day as it came.

One of the men produced a tray of coffee, and Carolyn sat in a canvas chair, drank the coffee, smoked a cigarette, and thought things might not be so bad after all.

Her father was really pleased to see her, and they had so much to say to one another. The pride with which he introduced her to all the members of his team banished all traitorous thoughts from her mind, and she determined to show him how easily she could adapt herself to her new surroundings. At least her experiences, whatever they might turn out to be, would provide her with endless topics of conversation when she eventually returned to London.

As it was getting quite late, the men had finished their work for the day, and were quite prepared to sit around, drinking beers and smoking, and joining in the general conversation. Really, thought Carolyn, were it not for the shortage of women, they might be a group of people anywhere indulging in pre-dinner chatter.

She looked curiously at the men. Of the younger ones, she liked Bill Anderson and David Laurence best. They were both in their late twenties and unmarried. Simon Dean was young too, but as he had a wife somewhere in the background Carolyn refused to take his advances seriously. She considered him weak and self-indulgent, and felt sorry for the unfortunate Mrs. Dean wherever she might be. The older men were easier to know and easier to get along with. Donald Graham and Tom Revie she had known for a long time, and usually accompanied the professor everywhere. Young and old alike they had something in common, she decided; a love of the outdoor life, discovering ancient relics, and brown, sunburnt complexions. Dressed in open-necked shirts and either cream denims or shorts, they looked cool and relaxed, and Carolyn wished she felt the same. That was the trouble with men, she thought, they didn’t seem to realise that what a woman wanted most after a journey like she had experienced was a cool shower, and a change of clothes.

Eventually, her father rose to his feet. ‘Well, time’s getting on,’ he said, ‘and I expect you’d like a shower and a change of clothes before dinner, wouldn’t you, Carolyn?’

Carolyn smiled. ‘I thought you’d never guess,’ she said.

The professor put an arm across her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry. But you’ve no idea how delightful it is, hearing news of England first hand. After all, the papers we get here are a week old before we read them.’

Carolyn rose also, and said: ‘Where am I to sleep, then?’