"This Shyman's one nasty feller Davey," said Paddy as they watched the Spaniards roam from room to room destroying and grabbing, fighting over expensive belongings and anything of value.
"I've had another idea Uncle Paddy!"
"Take it easy now lad. I've warned yer about them."
They both grinned.
"Go on, I'm hearin' what yer sayin'."
"What I'm thinking is maybe I can get inside this mirror. Go into their land, maybe that's how it is we can help the white lady?"
"If that works it could be dangerous for yer lad, I don't like the sound of it meself. If anything 'appens to you I'd never forgive meself."
"I'll be okay. I'm wearing the helmet. I'll just keep on saying to myself that I'm invisible then nobody will even see me."
"Remember that old man, when he was tryin' to get back into his body?"
"Yeah," said Davey.
"Well that Shyman could see 'im and he was invisible to everyone else."
"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that. But listen to this though Uncle Paddy. If we're looking at the past, I'm alive in the future so nobody could possibly harm me in those olden days."
"I don't know if it works like that lad, I mean there's rules in all this but rules were made to be broken...."
"I've got to try Uncle Paddy!"
Davey stood up and moved nearer to the mirror.
"Hang on lad! If you go in there I won't be able to see yer." But the look of determination on Davey's face caused him to give in. "Just five minutes then promise me you'll come back. Promise?"
"I promise Uncle Paddy, I'll just take a quick look round then I'll be straight back."
He leant forwards and pressed the top of the helmet against the mirror.
"Hold on lad, shift them things," said Paddy sweeping away hairbrushes, bottles and his cut-throat razor. "Hold on take this!" he tried to pass Davey the razor, "Yer might need it."
Davey was too intent upon what he was doing to hear him, he continued to press against the mirror, it rocked backwards as he placed his knee upon the dressing-table.
"Careful lad, yer goin' to smash it! Seven years bad luck yer know."
The hard surface of the glass did not soften, it did not give way to admit Davey, disappointedly he sat back down on the bed.
"Never mind lad, yer tried it. We'll figure sommat out to help the girl, don't you worry."
The gods were settling in to their new home. Shouts, yells and laughter burst through the thin walls into Lady Axa's apartments. They could hear slave girls screaming in terror as the gods chased them, the snarling of fierce dogs barked above the excitement and chaos.
Lady Axa spoke to her slave, "Hunwa, take Panqui to her room." Panqui held on to the heavy skirts of the old woman who had nursed her during childhood. As soon as they were out of earshot Lady Axa hissed, "The Shaman knows we are no longer a threat, he will soon destroy us, to have placed these men here can only foretell disaster."
Popacata did not answer, he crossed the room to the wall and turned one of the embellishments, a peep-hole was revealed. Popacata settled himself to observe and learn more of the invaders. It was dusk when he witnessed Francesco and Father Salamanga returning to their new quarters. The commander greeted them in tones of ecstasy, "Good Father and Francesco you are well returned, please follow me for I wish to know what you have witnessed."
As they passed out of Popacata's view Paddy urged Davey to follow them.
Francesco's spurs rattled as he strode in his heavy riding boots over the delicately patterned stone floor. In contrast the priest's sandals flapped their thin leather soles as with shoulders hunched, head bowed in permanent humility, he followed the men. The commander showed them in through a massively decorated door.
"Does not this room alone humiliate the Imperial Palace of Madrid?" he asked smiling, "but quickly now, tell me what you have seen."
"We have wondered and admired," said Francesco, "the wealth is enormous. Gold is a common metal. It is my belief that this land is the richest that God put on the Earth."
The ravenous look in the commander's eyes was plain to see. "It is all ours, they believe us to be their gods re-visiting them. Nothing can stand in our way. Nothing!" he repeated in a state of rapture, overcome with greed.
Father Salamanga was concerned with what he was hearing, greed could overcome the purest of men and the commander was far from pure. "But let us not forget that the Mother Church must come before men and kings," he reminded the commander.
"But of course Father, of course," smiled the commander. The priest was not happy with the answer, yet again he had cause for concern.
The commander asked, "Is it not a confirmation of our faith Father that these heathens seek to destroy each other?"
"What is this you speak of?" questioned the priest raising an eyebrow.
The commander showed him towards a window, from it they looked at the long line of warriors standing in a thin line up the temple's steps.
"I shall retire into seclusion and pray for their souls," said Father Salamanga walking away.
"Maybe that feller's not as bad as we thought," offered Paddy, "whip it forwards lad, those Inkers have got no chance, they're all goin' to snuff it."
AI'll go slowly Uncle Paddy just in case something start's to happen.@
For a day and night the slaughter continued.
It was to be under a setting sun that the Shaman finally raised his knife, crying out in animal tongues to the listening gods. Paddy and Davey also heard the cry and swept across the temple square, up the stepped pyramid and followed him as he descended into the depths of his stone hell.