Olaf’s mouth curled into a sneer. “Why?” he demanded, and the word was picked up by other sailors in the crew. “Why?” they wanted to know.
“I’ve already told you,” Erik said patiently. “The Mayas have little enough food for themselves. They can hardly be expected to give us…”
“They are lying,” Olaf snarled. “I have seen their food with my own eyes. An entire room full. There is everything…”
“I have seen the room too,” Erik said, an edge to his voice now. “And I have heard the words of their priest. There is barely enough in that room to last them until the harvest.”
“There is more than enough,” Olaf protested.
A faint smile flicked at Erik’s mouth. His hand dropped to the head of his ax and rested there. “Do you call me a liar?” he asked Olaf.
“No. I merely say there is enough…”
“And I say there is not. Do you doubt my word?”
For a moment Olaf seemed ready to rebel. Suddenly he changed his course of action. “What if there isn’t enough for the Mayas? There is enough for us.”
“Yes,” the sailor with the patch over his eye spoke up. “What do we owe the Mayas?”
“They are savages,” Olaf said, his eyes sparkling proudly.
“They are our friends,” Erik replied softly.
“If they are our friends, why are we kept prisoners?”
“We are not prisoners. They’ve given us our weapons,” Erik reminded the squat Norseman.
“And we should put these weapons to good use,” Olaf said, twisting the logic behind Erik’s words. “There are only two soldiers guarding the storeroom. We could easily overpower them and take what food we…”
“You would suggest, then,” Erik said, the grin on his face once more, “that I turn captain of a band of thieves.”
“I would suggest,” Olaf countered, “that you lead your men home.”
Erik drew himself up to his full height and his big hand tightened on the head of his ax. “And I would suggest,” he added, “and this is to be the final suggestion today, that you hold your vicious tongue.
“We are not sailing until we can sail with a full ship. That will be after the Maya harvest.”
Olaf opened his mouth to speak again, but Erik cut him short. “I would hate to have to bury my second officer on alien soil.”
The sailors laughed at this, their voices ringing throughout the little glade.
Olaf, somehow, didn’t seem to think it was funny. He stalked off into the woods, his dark eyes smoldering.
That afternoon, Neil saw his first Maya basketball game. Or at least, he was always to remember it as a basketball game.
Rixal and Tela were bursting with enthusiasm when they came to usher him to the event.
“But what is it?” Neil asked, being rushed along by Rixal and Tela.
Tela, her pretty face shining with happiness, said, “The game. The nobles will play Tlaxtli! Hurry, hurry, they will have started.”
She took one of Neil’s hands, and with Rixal grasping the other, they rushed across the city.
Rixal said, “They will begin playing soon.”
Hastily, they led him to a large court with small temples at either end of it. Lining the sides of the long court were two massive stone walls. Rixal and Tela brought Neil to the top of one of the walls, and there they sat and looked down at the court.
The top of the wall was at least three feet thick, and they sat there comfortably, Neil wondering what would happen next.
“I will explain briefly,” Rixal said.
“Let me explain,” Tela interrupted, her face split in a grin.
“Men do the explaining,” Rixal said solemnly. Tela clasped her hands impatiently in her lap and waited for Rixal to begin.
“The court is 180 yards long,” Rixal started.
“One hundred and
“One hundred and
“And these walls, this one and the one opposite, are very high,” Tela said excitedly.
“Twenty-seven feet high,” Rixal added.
Tela pointed to the wall opposite, “That is the eastern wall,” she said.
“And that is a temple surmounting it,” Rixal added.
“The Temple of the Jaguars,” said Tela.
Neil looked across to the temple at the southern end of the opposite wall. It was neat and small, with a frieze work of stalking jaguars and shields on its front.
“But what’s the game all about?” Neil asked.
“We’re coming to that,” Rixal said impatiently.
“Do you see those rings in the walls?” Tela asked.,
Neil looked to the place she was pointing. High on the side of each wall, midway between the ends, was a large stone ring fastened vertically to the face of the wall.
“Yes,” Neil said, “I see them.”
“Well, the object of the game is to…”
“Here come the players!” Tela burst out excitedly.
Twelve men stepped onto the court, touching their foreheads to each of the temples as they stood at attention. Then six men walked to one end of the court, while the other six went to the opposite end.
“There is the ball,” Rixal said, pointing to a regally dressed Maya who stood on the wall and dropped a rubber ball into the court.
Immediately both teams burst into action. They raced for the ball, hitting it with their hands, slapping it high up on the wall.
“What are they trying to do?” Neil asked.