“They’re trying to get the ball into the… oh! He almost did it,” Tela cried. “He almost did it, Neil.” She was pounding on his shoulders with her small hands.
“Into the
“They’re trying to hit the ball through the ring. It is very difficult,” Rixal solemnly said.
The players wore pads on their hips, and they hit the ball with their hands or their hips, sending it flying against the wall and bouncing madly around the court.
“They are not very skilful,” Rixal said. “The better players are not allowed to use their hands at all. They must hit the ball only with their hips.”
The game went on, and Neil felt himself rising from his seat in excitement every time the ball came anywhere near the ring.
At the end of the match, he had yelled himself hoarse, and he was disappointed that neither side had succeeded in driving the ball through one of the rings.
“They are not very skilful,” Rixal repeated.
“Besides,” Tela said, “it is better that no one scored. It is very difficult, and a player who drives the ball through the ring is allowed to take the clothes of any of the onlookers.”
“Really?” Neil asked.
“Yes,” Tela said, nodding her head. “It is very difficult, you know.”
Neil thought of basketball games back home, and wondered how it would be if the players demanded the spectators’ clothes every time they scored a basket. He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.
“Why do you smile?” Rixal asked.
“I was thinking of a game we have in my land,” Neil said. “A game similar to this one.”
“Is it exactly like Tlaxtli?” Tela asked.
Neil smiled again, thinking of the clothes of the spectators. “No,” he admitted, “it’s a little different, I think.”
That night, after supper, Neil started through the forest on his way to the beach. He was anxious to see Dave again, and to find out how work on the time machine was progressing.
Like Dave, he had come to know the forest well. There was no longer any need to mark a trail, and he padded through the woods at ease, listening to the monkeys, watching for tapirs, or peccaries, or an occasional fleeting deer.
He was startled to hear the sound of voices coming from a clearing in the woods.
Cautiously, he tiptoed closer, careful to avoid dead twigs or branches underfoot.
The voices were Swedish and Maya. First a man spoke in Swedish. Then another man translated into Maya. A third man answered in Maya which was rapidly translated into Swedish. This puzzled Neil. Apparently, some of the Norsemen were talking to a group of Mayas.
The sun was slowly sinking in the west, and the trees cast long shadows through the forest. All was silent except for the small noises of the insects and the voices from the clearing.
He crept closer and hid behind a huge boulder.
He was surprised to hear Olaf’s voice, and he peeked over the boulder to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Olaf stood before ten or twelve of the Norse sailors, talking to a Maya soldier. Behind the Maya were several other soldiers, dressed in their customary quilted covering.
“Why do you keep us here?” Olaf asked. “What is there to gain?”
A Norseman translated, and the Maya answered.
“You are right. We gain nothing by your presence. But I do not follow your plan.”
“There is no plan,” Olaf said. “There is only a group of men lonely for the sight of their own land. Our captain would wait for the harvest. And do you know why?”
“Why?” the Maya asked.
“So that the fruits of your labor will go into our ship. So that new fruit, new vegetables, and fresh meat can be taken with us when we sail. Your labor will feed our men.”
“I don’t understand.” the Maya said.
“It is simple.” Olaf went on. “We would leave now, taking with us whatever stores you can spare. We do not ask for much, only enough to take us on our journey, safely home.”
“We have very little food,” the Maya answered.
“Yes, but if we take a large part of your harvest with us when we leave, how much food will you have next year at this time?”
The Maya shrugged. “Next year is next year,” he said. “We will worry then.”
“You will worry,” Olaf said, “and you will starve too. Talu, your priest, refuses us food now because he knows the wrath of your people will descend on him if he squanders when the supply is low.”
“So?” the Maya asked.
“So he waits until the harvest. But remember that our captain saved Talu’s life when he slew the serpent. Talu is grateful. When there is food in abundance, he will shower our captain with it, not thinking ahead to the hungry days in the future.”
“I did not think of this,” the Maya said slowly.
“Here is what we want,” Olaf said. “Enough food to see us home, not the food in surplus we would get after the harvest. Just enough, mind you. Not so much that you will be left starving. Just enough.”
“But there
“There is enough for our small wants,” Olaf insisted. “We would eat as much if we stayed right here in the city.”
“Talu would forbid it,” the Maya said.