"What is it! What's there then lad?"
A guard had heard something, he lowered his fearsome pike and moved forwards swinging the murderous axe-head to and fro through the cold mist which surrounded him.
Mesmerised by the images Davey did not even hear Paddy's voice.
"Can yer see anythin'?"
"Halt, who goes?" hissed the guard.
Paddy pushed back the bedcovers and with painstaking care slowly swung his feet to the floor straight on top of a flattened pair of leather slippers which Mrs Murtagh had carefully placed for him, he flattened them still further muttering, "Silly old woman," then aided by his walking stick moved down the bed.
"Relax Joaquim, it is I, Alvarez!" came the reply from out of the mist. The men raised their pikes bringing them to rest upon their shoulders. Alvarez beat his arms against his body trying to warm himself with the pummelling, "That sergeant has it in for us. Last watch! A plague on him." He spat on the ground for emphasis. His hound, all but concealed by the icy vapours, sniffed at its master's warm spittle.
"Some says there's ways round these things," returned Joaquim, slowly looking up at the murderous axe heads which towered above.
The dog's master laughed scornfully at the idea, "The squad leaders would cut you down before you knew it," laughing at the idea as he walked away he said, "I'll rouse the cook, the sooner this day starts the sooner it ends."
He turned in towards the camp, his legs forging a pathway through the soaking murk which encircled them.
As Paddy looked into the mirror he yelled, "JesusMaryJoseph and the Holy flippin' ghost!" he dropped down heavily next to Davey, "Who the hell are these boyos?" he asked as they watched the guard march over the frosted ground.
Davey didn't answer he was unable to do anything but stare.
Each heavy footstep crunched through the icy surface, Davey and Paddy were not the only people to hear them, an old man who was beginning to awaken knew that another arduous day had begun.
"Get yourself up!" rasped the guard but the blanket held the old man in its warmth.
"Get up I say!" was followed by a kick. The hound lunged intending to bite but the guard jerked it back.
"You'll have that owing to you with interest Alvarez," hissed the old man after the guard's retreating back. The hound turned to growl viciously at him.
Slowly and painfully the old man rose to his feet; hands on his knees then onto his hips, he pushed his hands forwards forcing his back to straighten, the damp cut into him like knives making his bones ache. He wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, then shielded from the penetrating dampness began to rekindle the fire whose embers had warmed him through the night.
"Come on my little beauty. By the Saints it be cold," he said quietly to himself, poking life into the fire with a steel ramrod. Soon hopeful looking wisps of smoke began to rise and he added fresh kindling. Seeming satisfied, he took out his sheath knife and cut himself a piece of resinous material from a fist-sized block.
"He's got chewing baccy!" exclaimed Paddy.
As the old man chewed, warm air escaped from his mouth, condensed and added to the smoke from the fire He sat staring into the bright embers working the plug with teeth and tongue until the fire began to glow and faint licks of flame began to reveal themselves, soon he was confident enough of his success to direct a well-aimed mouthful into its bright red heart. Puffs of ash billowed out showering over a grey-haired black man who lay asleep near its warmth.
"Rise yourself Jésu," said the old man, prodding the side of the slave with the ramrod.
Long thin arms stretched as the slave shook off the traces of sleep, slowly he sat up. The sun, although still hidden by the dark distant outline of the mountains had risen a little higher and its first rays were beginning to disperse the mist.
"It is to be a bee-utiful day," said Jésu to the old man.
All around them were men, sleeping, fully clothed apart from the heavier pieces of their armour which were laid to one side. Muskets, pikes and swords lay at the ready or stood in small piles stacked against each other available for instant use.
"They're soldiers Uncle Paddy," said Davey as if giving a delayed answer to Paddy's question. As he spoke he turned slightly towards Paddy, the view before them altered and showed the side of the camp towards which his head had turned.
"Do that again! Look the other way!"
Again Davey turned back and the view swung round, "It's as if I was there, watching it all!"
"Have a look around, we'll see what's going on 'ere," Paddy said rubbing his hands together.
Small artillery pieces were ranged around the outside of the camp, their fuses indicated that they were primed and ready for immediate use. Sharpened stakes were embedded into the ground, around the perimeter guards patrolled back and forth.
"These boyos are expecting trouble."
Davey looked back towards the old man.
"Listen, he's saying sommat," said Paddy.
Taking care not to awaken the sleeping men who lay all around the old man whispered to his helper, "Stoke the fire my friend."
Jésu moved like a stick insect, stealthily he placed some ready cut lengths upon the glowing embers. "That'll do nicely," said the cook, "come now."
Behind them the sun had started throwing its first faint rays, ahead of them the sky had not yet begun to form. Their eyes gazed out into the vast depths of the universe where stars weakly flickered above the outline of the mountains which loomed as dark silhouettes against the night sky. Quietly they crossed carefully over arms and supplies to a small cart. Here they were out of earshot and could relax, two guards on either side of the cart lay asleep against each of its wheels both were snoring heavily, "Look at these sleeping babes, they shall not be spared if the commander learns of it," said the cook, "here, lend a hand."
He took hold of a cauldron, it needed stronger arms than he possessed but their combined strength was enough to move it into position to allow it to drop down, its weight almost jerking
their arms from their sockets whilst they prevented it from crashing onto the ground, the guards leapt to their feet, "Who goes?" questioned the shorter of the two.
"Rest yourselves," said the old man, "it is I and Jésu."
"Do not be afraid old man, the gold could not be in better hands," said the guard patting a relieved hand on top of a strongbox, knowing the punishment for sleeping on duty he added, "we were just resting. Were we not Ricardo?"
"Resting, why yes, of course," blurted out Ricardo, he changed the subject,"think what riches there be in this country if those were poor natives who carried all this wealth, eh Vargas?" encouraging him to do the same.
Vargas did so, "More than the whole of Spain. They spoke of cities of gold," a fevered look was in his eyes, "and these Incas they told of who wear gold like me and thee wear clothes. But they do be a brave people, it were only under the knife they told their tale."
"Screamed like stuck pigs," grinned Ricardo.
"These are the men who stabbed the prisoner!" exclaimed Davey.
"Hold it steady lad," said Paddy, "'ang on a mo' let's try this," he jabbed into the face of Vargas with his walking stick.
"Stop Uncle Paddy, you'll break the mirror," Davey exclaimed as the little dressing table was jolted backwards.
"Eh you, over 'ere!" yelled Paddy at Vargas but he was not heard.
"Come Jésu, we need water to boil," the old man said adding in a lower voice, "these murdering scum can't march on empty stomachs." Taking a handle of the cauldron each and a hand-axe in their free hands they set off. Behind them an argument broke out between the two men.
"Stick with the old bloke," said Paddy.
They watched the old man and slave leave the encampment, as they crossed a line of horses Alvarez was waiting for them. He grunted, "That swill yesterday were gut rot."
The old man paused and looked at the dog which stood with its head thrust forward, gums drawn back, eyeing them viciously.
r /> "You know where there be fresh meat," he said spitting the contents of his mouth accurately onto the animal's head, the black man's grin revealed rows of white teeth as the thick brown tobacco juices rolled down the dog's face. The guard was left behind them cursing under his breath as they moved down the line of horses towards the jungle.
Davey and Paddy sat smiling together.
"Eh! Eh! Hold my beauties," said the old man to the horses patting some of them on the nose as they passed. "They be skittish Jésu, take care," he said to his companion. The horses all seemed uneasy, pawing the ground, twitching nervously and pricking up their ears towards the jungle.
"Eet may be a jaguar," offered Jésu.
The jungle floor was soft and springy underfoot, little light penetrated the leafy canopy high overhead, the birds and animals were just beginning to rouse themselves for another busy day.
"This be a likely trail," said the old man pointing to a well worn path, "let us follow it, there is sure to be water somewhere down there."
His companion grunted an acknowledgement, "Eet was good that you showed Alvarez," he laughed, "and his dog!"
"You know the sort Jésu, it won't be forgotten, now I shall have to make sure of not standing before his pike and the Incas if I'm not to feel something more than my heart between my ribs. But listen, is that not water?"
A faint sound hummed and throbbed in the distance. The old man and the slave began moving more quickly. They decided to put down the heavy cauldron on the track until they had discovered the source then to return for it. Freed from their burden they made much quicker time.
Down and down they went, taking turns at blazing a trail by cutting deep wedges into the trees with their axes.
"It's like flippin' Hansel and Gretel."
The hum and throb of sound grew louder. The Spaniard and the black man were clearly not happy about what they heard.
"Listen," said Jésu stopping, "the birds they do not sing, the jungle is silent. It does not sound like water."
They listened intently, the old man was quite sure, "It is not water," he answered. "Let us find out, quietly, what makes such strange sound. Tread carefully, Incas might be trying to surround the encampment."
They crept onwards until the sound grew to be a pulsing throbbing noise that rose and fell. Frightened, they moved nearer. The light which had begun to filter through the leafy canopy high above them was weak but now there was a dull violet tinge to it.
"Jésu, stay back here, I shall see what be causing this strange sound," said the old man. The slave did not need a second bidding.
Creeping forwards on all fours the old man moved towards the source.
"Stick with 'im lad," urged Paddy. They watched the old man worming his way along furtively burrowing through the undergrowth. Davey jumped with fright as a hand appeared out of nowhere and fastened itself to the old man's shoulder - but it was Jésu.
"Do not go down there my friend, the Devil is in thees woods!" his voice was high pitched and cracked with fear. The old man's hair stood up on the back of his neck at the mention, the look of terror on the face of Jésu was clear but he answered, "Devil or no I shall not leave till I know the truth of it," and shook him off.
The ground began to slope so steeply that the old man was unable to even crawl. He lay down on his stomach and slithered downhill, slowing his descent by digging the tips of his boots into the soft earth. In this way he was able to steer himself along, nosing small branches and shoots from his path until he was almost on top of the sound. Carefully he pushed his head through a gap in some brushwood. The rise and fall of noise now had an unearthly screech added to it like the scream of an animal caught in a trap.
"Uncle Paddy I just want to see if the other man's okay." Davey swept his gaze back up the mirror until the image of Jésu appeared. On his own he sat on his haunches, holding his knees tightly to his chest, staring terrified into the jungle which surrounded him.
"'e's alright, get back to yer man."
From behind the cover of the brushwood the old man peered forwards, the sound was all around him, it throbbed and pulsed burying itself into his chilled marrow.
"What is this that stands before me?" cried the old man in a voice filled with fear.
"'ave a look lad! 'e's seen sommat!"
Davey swept their view forwards.
"Everything's shaking and breaking up Uncle Paddy! Why can't we see anything."
"Get back to the old bloke! Look at 'im, 'e's terrified! Sommat must have give him the eeby-jeeby's, have another dekko!
Again the same thing happened, the images shook and broke up.
AWhatever's there we can't see it.@
"Stick with the old bloke," urged Paddy. " he's onto sommat!@
The old man's body went rigid. They watched as he slowly turned round.
"I know that feeling lad, whatever's there is behind 'im!"
They stared all around but the images looked as if they were being viewed through a kaleidoscope, a mass of colours and slants swept and flowed.
"Christ Almighty!"
The old man's face convulsed into a mask of terror. With each rise in sound his eyes seemed to be pulled from their sockets then be forced back in with the fall. The sound intensity increased drowning out the screams from his wide-open mouth.
The temple on the left hand side of his head began to pulse furiously, swelling up and down with the ebb and flow. Screaming, "Oh my Lord NO!" the old man raised his hand to his head just as the swollen vessel exploded.
"Flippin' 'eck!"
"What's happened? Is he dead Uncle Paddy?"
Davey tried to see the old man but broken images of colour and light filled the mirror, shimmering, sparkling and fading.
Jésu had heard the scream of agony, he answered it with a cry of his own.
"What's 'appening to 'im!"
Back up the forested slopes Jésu hurtled, his long thin limbs propelled him through the undergrowth, his eyes had rolled backwards in terror. Vines and thorns tore at him but he ignored them in his headlong flight.
"Juju majoba, juju majoba, juju majoba!" he shouted the phrase over and over. As he neared the encampment a volley of shots whistled through the trees, snapping off branches and spraying bark into the air around him. He tore towards the sentry line like a terrified dog.
An officer recognised him, "Hold! let him pass!" he yelled to a man who was about to touch a smouldering linstock to a cannon, and ordered his men, "Keep your eyes on the jungle! Something's put the wind up him.@
Straight at the perimeter stakes Jésu ran, with gangly limbs flying everywhere he leapt high trying to hurdle the sharpened tips, the effort was too much and he landed, wedged between two barbarous points.
"Take him! he has lost his wits!" the officer ordered men-at-arms.
The camp was roused, men ran to their stations, orders were yelled. Muskets were shouldered and swords drawn. Above the commotion could be heard Jésu shrieking, "The Devil is upon us!"
Paddy wiped his spectacles which had steamed up with the excitement on a blanket, "That poor idjit thinks the devil's got his mate."
It was difficult to extricate Jésu who fought off all attempts to help him. A heavy thumping blow to his stomach allowed time to free him and hold him securely.
"Take him to the commander," the officer ordered.
The struggle had lasted some time, during it a trumpet was blown which sounded the signal for the camp to stand down. Men returned to their preparations for the day.
Jésu was marched down between rows of small bivouacs where men were busy cleaning muskets, oiling scabbards and sharpening weapons. Heads raised as he was forced past.
"Hey there Jesus. Where's the Devil?" various comments and jeers were made but the look of terror on the face of their victim brought about silence.
At the tent of the commander they halted whilst one of the men-at-arms reported the situation.
"Sir, the cook be missing, this sla
ve has deserted him."
The commander sat at a table beneath an awning which extended out from the front of his tent. Resting his elbows on the desk lid and holding his hands to his lips as if praying he studied the terrified man. There was a cruel look about the lips of the commander, they seemed to be shaped into a permanent sneer. With a look of total disgust as if even speaking to the slave was beneath him he turned to an officer who sat at his side.
"Francesco, do you wish to question him? you have a certain way in these matters."
Francesco nodded assent. He walked round the table, the spurs on his long thigh-length riding boots rattled as he moved. He was a short but thick-set man, his padded leather fighting jacket made him seem bigger than he actually was. "This is not like you Jésu. Where is the old man? he was a friend to you I understand. What happened to make you leave him?@
Jésu stood, long skinny legs knocking together, repeating, "The Devil," through chattering teeth.
Francesco adjusted the silk scarf he wore around his neck, his fingers combed his long hair into place. He moved towards the slave and placed his hands upon his shoulders. ACome Jésu, you can tell me what happened, do not be afraid, you are safe with us.@
Jésu's eyes rolled round as if expecting that at any moment something would appear.
Francesco's hands slid from the man's shoulders and held him by the tunic, without the slightest emotion he shook the skinny slave fiercely. "WHY did you desert your master? HAVE you seen the Incas? HAS your master been taken?" The crazy answers told him he was wasting his time.
"Sergeant!" he ordered throwing Jésu so forcefully to the ground that the breath was knocked from his body, "Arrest this loon until he has the sense to talk."
Francesco smoothed his long locks back into place and replaced his scarf.
A rope was brought but as soon as it touched Jésu's wrists he went berserk.
"Seize him!" shouted the sergeant.
Jésu threw off two men and started to run, Francesco coolly tripped him allowing the men time to charge back. They used all their combined strength to force Jésu to the ground but the slave's terror enabled him to jerk and twist so wildly that they could not keep a grip upon him. He jumped to his feet and, as if surprised himself that he had escaped the hold of the two men stood still for a moment. Francesco pulled a dagger from his belt flipped it around so that he held the blade then struck Jésu a glancing blow with the pommel.
ATake him away!@ he ordered the men returning to his seat.
"These fellers aren't messing about are they lad."
"Was it the Devil, Uncle Paddy?"
"Eh come on now, get a grip. Might have been Mrs Fegan but it weren't the Devil!" he laughed, "then again what's the difference! Eh up, 'ere's someone who might know."
A priest joined the commander and Francesco, his long brown cassock hung so close to the ground that it almost covered the flimsy sandals which were all the protection he wore upon his bare feet. Draped around his neck was a large wooden cross, a leather strap which passed beneath the large hood of the cassock held it in place. Flecks of blood upon the priest's half-shaven crown gave a clue as to what activity had been disturbed by all the turmoil.
"Commander,@ the priest bowed towards the officers.
AFather Salamanga,@ the commander and Francesco stood up and returned the salutation. APlease be seated Father,@ said the commander waving towards a chair.
The priest was a large, fleshy man, a thick black beard so fully covered his heavy jowls that when he spoke it was difficult to tell from where the sound came. He said, AI shall not waste your time Commander, it has been reported to me that the slave Jésu has made mention of the evil one.@ He touched his cross and raised his bushy eyebrows as he waited for an answer.
The commander smiled, it was a smile in which his eyes took no part. Knowing that the priest was correct in his condemnation he made no attempt to reply.
The priest continued, ASuch matters fall under the authority of the church, as the representative of the church it should have fallen upon me to question this man.@
"Father Salamanga," said the commander, his lips formed a sneer. "It was not our desire to offend your good self nor the holy church...."
The priest interrupted, "Then Commander, why was I not sent for immediately," from the sleeves of his cassock he drew a large leather backed Bible, tapping his fingers on the book he said, "this is not purely a military matter."
The commander was about to return to his answer but Francesco gripped him by the upper arm. The commander did not like to be touched in such a manner, his stiff ruffed collar quivered slightly betraying his annoyance as he turned to his officer. But Francesco stared into the air, some of the other men also stared. The commander followed their gaze then he too stood still, staring.
"What 'ave they seen? Take a look lad."
The sky above the jungle was glowing, as they looked it faded to a light ruby colour then flashed back further into the sky, deeper and brighter.
AGive the jungle a quick once over, maybe it's the old bloke."
Davey did as he was asked but they saw nothing.
"There's nothing there, he's gone."
"'ang on a mo' what's that over there?" said Paddy poking towards something with his stick.
"It's the crack in the glass Uncle Paddy."
"Oh yeah," said Paddy, realising his error. They both grinned.
"It's good this isn't it lad."
"Amazing'!"
They returned to the encampment where they saw Jésu being carried by three men. Trussed like a chicken he came to and began heaving with all his might against the ropes which bound him. When they reached a cart the men heaved together and threw him in.
"Put another turn around his wrists, Sancho," said one of the men, "you won't wish him free again."
Talk of the devil had disturbed them.
"Some says the cook has been eaten."
"Demons live in the jungle, they devour the flesh of men."
"Look on that strange light, does it not go against God?"
The meeting between the officers and the priest had ended. The priest was kneeling down, holding up his cross towards the light, the officers were busy issuing orders.
"Order the men to move out," said Francesco to the sergeant aware that both men and horses were showing signs of panic.
"Make ready! Move out!" yelled the sergeant lashing with a short stick he carried at whoever came within range. Men ran to their stations; horses were bridled, saddled and made ready, carts and cannons were harnessed to the heavier draught horses. The camp dissolved rapidly; men toileted, then cleansed and dusted their feet ready for another day of hard marching.
Squad leaders inspected their troops, bawled out the laggards and praised the unselfish.
A disciplined force of men took up their positions; heavy armour to the rear with pikes sloping upwards twice the height of the tallest man, lighter forces to the front.
"Mount up!" ordered the sergeant.
To a hand signal from an officer the column set off. Men on horseback galloped into scouting positions, heavier horses strained against their traces dragging the cannon into movement.
"Hey up, Gaaa!" urged the team leaders lashing the great draught horses. The heavy cannon rumbled forwards, their great iron clad wheels tearing through the sod, bouncing and bumping over rises and depressions.
The column moved forward over a vast plain, trailing along like a great snake. All eyes continued to look towards the flashing light above the jungle but when the hubbub and commotion of breaking camp had been left behind a strange sound could also be heard.
"Listen, do you not hear it?" Francesco asked the commander.
The commander sat up higher in his horse. It was eerie, the quiet was broken by a faint throbbing so close to the threshold of hearing it could barely be heard.
Men who could not hear anything asked, "What is it, what disturbs you?"
"Steady yourselves!" sh
outed the squad leaders sensing the fear.
The sound intensity increased until soon every man in the force could hear it.
"Sound the horns!" yelled the sergeant; soon horns were blowing, pipes were playing and drums were banging, drowning out the weird sound which flooded all around. They marched onwards. Overhead the vermilion sky grew, spreading itself from the depths of the jungle. The hues and tones of colour seemed to pulse with the sound.
Jésu recovered consciousness, "The Devil is upon us," he said quietly, his soft, quiet voice seemed to frighten the men who guarded him more than his ranting.
"These feller's are losin' it," said Paddy. He nodded his head up and down as if appreciating the sense of fear of the men.
Within the column men dropped their weapons and would have scattered but for their battle-hardened squad leaders. "If any man moves he shall have me to deal with!" roared Pancho, he was a thick-necked bull of a man. The men remained where they were.
"Dismount! Tend to the horses!" ordered the officers.
"Father what makes such sound and such strange light?" asked Francesco of the priest who rode on the back of a small donkey.
The priest answered loudly so that the commander would hear him. APerhaps if I had been given the opportunity to question the slave?@ He paused before continuing, AThese matters are understood by men of the cloth. Was I not warned by my Lord Abbott?@ He jabbed a sharp stick into the donkey's hindquarters, the animal, which struggled to support his mass, was forced towards the brightness. After a short distance he slid off the poor beast and held up his cross.
Scarlet lights pulsed and flowed enveloping the morning sky, the drums and pipes were silent as the men looked on in awe. The sound increased to an ear-splitting volume, the light grew so bright that the priest was forced to look down at the ground. With a screech like a thousand screams, the light began to ascend from the depths of the jungle. Something rose from the depths.
The priest screamed, "Do not look upon it!" .
"What the >eck's that? I don't believe what I'm seein', it's some sort of flippin' Zeppelin!"
Its crimson brightness hurt to look upon, lights flashed a myriad of colours, the screams of men and animals rose in terror. The vessel made no sound, slowly it floated across the tree-tops skimming the tallest trees which arched back away from it.
"They always said Fritz 'ad >iself a secret weapon. I reckon we're seein' it."
Men fought with their horses, metal bits were jerked until the blood flowed but panic caused the animals to ignore the pain, blankets were thrown over their eyes to try to calm them.
The vessel began moving, slowly at first but in an instant it moved so rapidly that it hurtled like a shooting star through the skies before disappearing into the glowering constellations.
"What in the name of Patrick was that? No Zeppelin could do that!"
Davey's baffled expression was answer enough.
The same question was being asked by the men of the column.
"Pray what was it?" the commander and Francesco asked of each other but both were totally perplexed. The priest joined them handing the reins of his donkey to a servant.
"In Heaven's name what was that strange craft Father?" asked Francesco, he had drawn his sword but seeing the futility of the action returned it to its scabbard.
Father Salamanga's trembling fingers thumbed though his Bible. It was only moments before he found the passage he sought but in that time the fear of the men around him increased.
"I have read of this mystery in the Revelation as given to us by John," he quoted from the book, "'the scarlet beast which is full of blasphemous names had seven heads. I will tell you the mystery of the beast: it is to ascend from the bottomless pit and go into perdition. The beast is not yet an eighth but it is one of the seven.' '"
"What does it mean?" asked the commander, "Is it a sign that we should give up our mission and return to Spain?"
The priest answered, "Do not be so easily swayed from our divine mission Commander, it is our holy duty to defeat this evil! Listen for it is written." He returned to his book, "'The seven will give their power to the beast, they will make war on the Lamb, but the Lamb will conquer them for He is Lord of Lords and King of Kings!' It is our destiny to conquer these people and all the foul demons they send against us! We are the Lamb!" The light of religious mania burned in his eyes. He re-mounted, tugged at his reins then turned aside from the head of the column.
Squad-leaders were yelling orders, "Stand firm! Keep your posts!" but it was to be some time before the column could be brought back to the march and discipline restored.
As men passed him Father Salamanga held out his cross and blessed them. The soldiers crossed themselves as they received his benediction,
"Bless you Father...praise the Lord...forgive me for I have sinned."
The priest rejoined the column as the cart which carried Jésu trundled past. For some time he rode along, carefully watching the prisoner, studying his every move. Jésu did not hear him, he sat bumping from side to side as the wheels lurched over the uneven ground, his eyes were glazed over, they stared blankly at everything around him.
"Well what do you reckon?" asked Paddy who was clearly enjoying himself.
"Uncle Paddy, what's happened to the old man? Why are we seeing these things?"
"No idea lad but it's good ain't it!" .
Davey was about to make another reply but the priest dismounted and tied his donkey to the rear of the cart.
"'ang on, what's this holy idjit up to?"
Frowning gravely the priest took a small phial from around his neck. Making the sign of the cross he pushed back the slave's head and sprinkled drops of water from the phial into the vacant eyes. Jésu did not even blink. "This is not a good sign," the priest said pursing his hairy lips together and shaking his head. He re-mounted and jabbed his donkey unmercifully, forcing it back to the head of the column. With cassock blowing and donkey braying he forced his way between the lancers who surrounded the commander.
"Commander, I must speak with you immediately. I have seen certain signs."
On his magnificent bay the commander rode a good head and shoulders higher than the priest.
Although the look upon his face indicated that he could do without any unnecessary interruption he had clearly been disturbed by the recent events, he handed his reins to a lancer and dismounted. "At your service good Father."
Walking alongside the priest their heads were level, the donkey braced itself as the priest leant towards the commander and whispered, AI have applied a test to the prisoner as prescribed by the Holy Inquisitioners of Toledo. My findings have given me cause for concern. It is necessary to investigate this matter further, if needs be the slave must be cleansed immediately before he has time to infect us with the evil in his blood."
The commander considered the priest's words before replying, "This is not good ground for us to call a halt to the column Father. This wide open space is hard to defend, we are exposed on all flanks, can this matter not wait until we reach a safer haven? It will not go well for us if we are attacked here."
"The affairs of men can wait, those of heaven cannot," replied the priest.
The commander's attention was drawn to an approaching cloud of dust.
"Riders Sire!" called Francesco who had a brass spy-glass raised to his eyes, "It is Garcilaso!"
The commander begged the priest's pardon.
Scouts returned to the main body, their leader, Garcilaso dismounted and made his report.
"Commander, two leagues to the east a great river has carved its way, the column will be able to make far easier passage along its banks."
AThis is good news Garcilaso, is this the river of which the captives spoke?"
"We cannot yet tell Sire, it is immense, it is unlike any river that flows through Spain, even following its path it shall take several days before we begin to ascend into the mountains."
"You have done well. Advance
into the land before us, you know your task!"
"What is their task Uncle Paddy?"
"These boyos are only interested in one thing lad, gold, and heaven 'elp anyone that gets in their way."
Garcilaso motioned to his men that they should re-mount, they swung up into their saddles and rode off at a fast trot.
Father Salamanga reluctantly accepted that the river would provide safer opportunity to call a halt, he moved aside from the head of the column until the cart carrying Jésu drew alongside then returned to his position of watching over the prisoner.
The dull roar was heard long before the river was sighted, it was wide, a cannon shot would not reach the far side but it still had power. It swept onwards, racing through its huge valley which they entered like ants against the vastness. Floodwaters had cleared away most of the vegetation, only twisted and gnarled roots and the occasional tree trunk embedded deep into the fertile earth blocked their path along the banks. Men were sent forward to clear away obstacles before the column encountered them.
Father Salamanga stared grimly at Jésu, if anyone approached he ushered them away with gestures and cries of, "Do not tempt the Lord thy God!"
Jésu sat mumbling, unaware of whatever was to become of him.
"Can we do something to help him Uncle Paddy?"
"Let's try sommat."
He tapped on the glass with the handle of his walking stick but there was no reaction from the men within.
"Careful Uncle Paddy!" said Davey as frustrated with his efforts Paddy began tapping harder.
"Eh you. Yer flippin' idjit!" called Paddy at the priest. There was no response. "You try it lad, you're wearin' the 'elmet!"
"Hey you. You on the donkey!" called Davey. "Nothing," he added shaking his head which caused the picture to move from left to right.
"Eh up, they've stopped."
The column was halted at a great bend in the river where floodwaters had powered over the bank gouging out a great semi-circle. The men seated themselves on this natural arena, Jésu and the priest remained below so that all could see. Father Salamanga shouted above the flowing waters, "We have gathered here out of a necessity. The necessity imposed upon us by the actions of this man." He gestured towards Jésu who was held between two men-at-arms. "Jesus Christ our Lord told us that of two men working in the field, one will be spared and the other taken, it is our task today to determine why the cook was taken and this man spared."
The men sat in silence.
"Let us look at the facts, two men go into the jungle, one of them disappears the other escapes supposedly running for his life," he paused, "BUT what did he shout?"
He looked round the circle, no-one dared return his gaze.
"He used the secret name of the devil himself, such name is known only to those learned in the black arts. I have a certain knowledge in such matters and will dare to utter it, let no other man repeat it for fear of losing his soul."
Such was the attention of the men upon him that he only needed to whisper the word.
"Majoba. That is what he shouted, he named the devil himself."
Men crossed themselves and looked fearfully around.
"But let this matter not rest upon the word of one of God's sworn missionaries, if there are any among us who require proof then I shall prove it."
Many men shook their heads to indicate that they were not to be considered as requiring proof. Salamanga ignored them and ripped open the shirt across the back of Jésu. Taking hold of a whip he brought it down with full force across the man's shoulders. In his trance-like state Jésu did not even flinch.
"Look on the workings of the Devil, have I not told you. He does not feel pain!"
The priest ran towards the river and threw the whip into the racing waters far below. He returned to the waiting men and washed his hands in a small bowl. Without looking up he said quietly,
"Scourge him, that the beasts of the air...."