He met Rixal rounding a corner, and was surprised to see his young guide without Tela. Rixal, too, was in far from high spirits.
“Hi,” Neil said, “what’s new?”
Rixal bowed his head quickly and continued walking.
“I am busy, Neil,” he said.
Neil scratched his head and looked at the retreating Maya.
Neil shrugged, then shook his head. Perhaps he would never understand the ways of the Maya. He wandered through the city, observing with wonder the undertone of excitement that seemed to radiate from every passer-by. It was as if… as if some great preparation were being made.
He was surprised to find himself beside a large well in front of one of the temples. He remembered this as what Rixal and Tela had called “The Sacred Cenote.”
He remembered, too, how they had described it in their unique running patter.
“This is The Sacred Cenote,” Rixal had said, pointing to the large well. “It is very large.”
“One hundred and fifty feet across,” Tela had added, nodding.
“And very deep.” This from Rixal.
“The water level is sixty feet below the ground.”
“And the depth of the water is thought to be almost as much.”
Neil smiled now as he thought again of his enthusiastic guides. On the steps of the temple, just before the gaping mouth of the cenote, several Mayas were working furiously.
Neil’s brow creased in curiosity, and he walked closer to the workmen. They seemed to be constructing a platform made of wood. The platform was long and narrow and rested on four stout logs. The workmen bustled about the logs, seeing that they were firmly wedged against the steps. Then one Maya climbed onto the platform, sat there stiffly, and gripped the sides with his hands. Two other Mayas walked to the back of the platform and slowly tilted it upward so that it formed a sort of slide-upon. The lower end of the platform was just above the mouth of the cenote.
At that moment, apparently satisfied that they’d done a good job, the Mayas lowered the platform onto the logs again, and the man Neil was worried about leaped to the ground.
Then, methodically, they began to pile straw and twigs onto the platform, lashing them to the wood with long pieces of braided lianas or vines. The twigs covered the straw and held it in place on the platform. The men tilted the platform again, apparently testing it to see if the bed of straw and twigs would slide off into the well. They rested it on the logs again, after they saw the mat was securely lashed to the platform. Then they began picking up the stray bits of wood and straw that had dropped onto the temple steps.
Neil yawned, suddenly aware of the fact he’d been awake most of the night.
He walked lazily across the city, leaving The Sacred Cenote and the industrious Mayas, and seeking the dark quiet of his own chamber.
He dropped onto the straw mat on the stone floor and was asleep almost instantly.
It was almost dark when he awoke. He glanced at his watch, then rubbed his eyes. Through the small window, the sky was painted a dull gray as twilight reluctantly gave way to night.
He got to his feet and shook the sleep from his body, stretching luxuriantly. Then he walked out of the chamber and down the steps that led to the street.
The city was strangely quiet.
Sleepily, Neil looked down the street to his left. Then to his right. The street was deserted.
Neil scratched his head, a frown beginning to work its way across his face. He looked at his watch again, supposing he’d made a mistake in the time. No, it was only a little past seven. He held his watch to his ear, thinking it had stopped. But the watch ticked away noisily.
Then why were the streets deserted?
Perhaps the nobles were playing another basketball game.
Neil’s thoughts were interrupted by the steady thump of a drum. Ra-bohm, it sounded. Ra-bohm. A long pause. Ra-bohm. Pause. Ra-bohm.
In the distance, winding their way through the city like little sparks of light scattered on the streets, Neil could see the glow of many torches.
A mournful dirge rose in the distance, and Neil was alert now, his eyes and ears straining into the darkness.
The torches came closer, and Neil saw the solemn faces of many Mayas, their wailing voices reaching his ears like the sound of a wounded animal. He watched as they filed past, solemn, slow, their faces pale in the light of the torches. Leading them, his long white robe flowing behind him, was Talu.