Lord of Zaracus
Автор
Anne Mather
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CHAPTER ONE
SINCE leaving the main highway, seventy-five miles south-west of Veracruz, the road had deteriorated into a series of ruts and pot-holes, thickly covered with fine dust, that was swept up by the passage of the Land-Rover and almost choked its occupants. Carolyn, who had had such high hopes when she left London two days ago, felt as though any minute she might be shaken out on to the roadside, and she held on desperately, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. Hot and sticky, her clothes clinging to her, she felt much different from the smoothly elegant young female who had boarded the Boeing in London, and she wondered, not for the first time, whether she had made a terrible mistake in coming. But then she remembered how delighted her father had been that she should be taking an interest in his archaeological explorations, and banished the traitorous thought. After all, life in England was becoming very boring, and Alaistair Kendrew’s attentions were beginning to annoy her.
She wiped her hands on a paper tissue and the driver of the Land-Rover glanced her way sympathetically.
‘Not far now,’ he remarked, raising her spirits a little.
Carolyn sighed. ‘Thank goodness!’ Then she smiled, and the bluff good-natured Scot, Anderson, felt the usual twinges of admiration that Carolyn’s appearance always aroused in him. He wondered whether her presence at the dig would cause more problems than even Professor Madison imagined.
‘How is my father?’ she asked now, trying to forget the soreness of her rear end.
‘Oh, Maddie’s okay.’ Professor Madison was known to all his closest associates as ‘Maddie’. ‘Naturally he’s looking forward to your visit. I think he’s afraid that you might find things rather different from your imaginings, though.’ Bill Anderson swung the wheel, narrowly avoiding a solitary cyclist as the tyres screamed round the rim of a small crater. He grinned at Carolyn’s expression. ‘Don’t be alarmed. I haven’t killed anybody yet.’
Carolyn fanned herself with her handkerchief and gave her attention to the lushness of the vegetation as the Land-Rover began the descent down a small gorge into a huge valley, bright with flame trees and other exotic plants. Running below them, along the floor of the valley, a narrow river surged coolly, and Carolyn longed to be able to soak her handkerchief in its icy depths. There seemed an abundance of trees and foliage, and the heat was quite different from the kind of temperate climate she had expected.
‘What is the name of this place?’ she asked, brushing back her long straight hair with a careless hand. Thick and silky, and the colour of honey, it caught Anderson’s eye, and he felt the faint stirrings of attraction again.
‘Oh—Zaracus,’ he answered, gathering his thoughts with some difficulty. ‘The valley belongs to Don Carlos Fernandez Monterra d’Alvarez. He has a coffee plantation, but of course a manager attends to the estate. He spends much of his time elsewhere.’
‘I see. And this find my father is excavating—it is in the valley, also?’
‘That’s right. Your father was interested in the reports made by a man called Guivas who spent many months here two years ago, investigating the possible whereabouts of another Zapotec city. As you may know, this country was overrun with various civilizations before the Spaniards came, and different parts bear witness to different civilisations, religions, cultures; you know the sort of thing. We even went so far as to visit Yucatan where the Mayan ruins were found not long ago. It’s quite fantastic really, seeing these pure white pyramids rising out of the steaming jungles of Yucatan. It’s all there, cities with temples and pyramids and tombs.’
Carolyn’s eyes twinkled. ‘You’re really hooked on this kind of thing, aren’t you, Bill?’
Anderson grinned. ‘I guess I am. But if you’d been there, in that massive pyramid, and seen the throne of the Mayans, built to look like a jaguar, painted red and studded with jade, and knew for a fact that it was at least fourteen or fifteen hundred years old, you’d have been impressed, just as we were. That’s why I’m hooked. I want to know how they built their cities, why they made them in a certain way, these ancient Aztec tribes.’
Carolyn was interested in spite of herself. ‘Still,’ she said, ‘I didn’t realise Dad was so far south when I agreed to come out. I always imagined Mexico had a pretty temperate climate.’
‘So it has, in parts. Mexico City, for example, but it’s so high up you practically pant if you do anything remotely energetic.’
Carolyn chuckled. ‘At least we’re not short of oxygen here.’
The valley was opening out before her eyes now, and she could distinguish the regimented lines of the coffee-bean plantation, and banana trees. The closely packed trees and foliage looked as though one might be able to walk on them looking down from this height, while the small villages set higher up from the valley floor were merely brown roofs visible among the trees. The colours and scents were an assault on the senses, while the sky above was a brilliant blue as the sun sank a little lower as the day wore on. Now and then they came upon a couple of Mexicans driving small herds of cattle indiscriminately along the highway, for all the world as though they owned that particular stretch of road. Carolyn lit a cigarette, and thought that she was flattering the mud stretch by calling it a highway, or a road.
Her royal blue crimplene slack suit, which had looked so good in London, was beginning to feel like a second skin, and she wished she had thought to change into something cooler in Veracruz. She flicked out her compact and studied her reflection, taking a paper tissue and wiping the damp make-up from her face. Her complexion, already tanned after a holiday in the south of France, required little make-up, but she experimented with various face and skin creams, and in consequence felt awfully greasy. Her eyes, wide spaced and slightly slanted, were a remarkable shade of green, while her nose was small above a mouth that was generous in proportion. She knew she was very attractive, having experienced the usual compliments men made to girls they pursued, but she was completely without conceit and treated her looks as something she was fortunate enough to possess but not exactly responsible for.
Bill Anderson watched her surreptitiously, and Carolyn, aware of his scrutiny, put away the compact and concentrated again on the ever-changing scenery. It appeared an enormous valley, stretches of it out of sight of the road as it descended to floor level. Rocky promontories towered overhead, supporting cactus plants which stood out like sentinels against the sky-line. The pass they had negotiated seemed to be the only access to the valley, and Carolyn said:
‘Doesn’t this Don Carlos whatever his name is find travelling rather arduous from this isolated place?’
Anderson crossed a narrow wooden bridge across the river which had broadened at this point and then shrugged. ‘He doesn’t use the road very often,’ he said. ‘He has a helicopter, and uses that to reach Oaxaca. He’s a very go-ahead fellow, not at all what you’d expect to find in the heart of the Mexican bush.’
‘He must be,’ remarked Carolyn, sardonically. ‘What a pity he didn’t suggest loaning you his helicopter to collect me!’
‘He doesn’t know you are coming,’ replied Anderson, frowning. ‘Your father thought it best to spring it on him. He’s very—oh, I don’t know what you’d call him—maybe, feudal, is the right word. At any rate, I don’t think the idea of a woman joining a group of males on a dig, even if her father is in charge of the expedition, would appeal to him at all. Conditions are pretty primitive, when all’s said and done, and quite frankly I was amazed when Maddie said you were coming.’
Carolyn smiled. ‘As you know my father so well, Bill, it must be painfully apparent to you that there are times when my father can be quite blissfully unaware of his surroundings, and on these digs I think this situation occurs. Besides, it was my idea to come, not his, and, poor darling, I don’t think it would occur to him to refuse me.’
Bill Anderson thought there might be a lot of truth in that. Professor Madison spoiled his youngest daughter abominably. Her two older sisters, both in their teens when she was born, had always treated her in like manner, and as their mother had died soon after Carolyn’s birth, Carolyn had been brought up by a procession of nannies, all of whom had doted on her. In consequence, she might have become a little spoiled, but her nature was so charming, she found it incredibly easy to get her own way. Professor Madison seemed unable to deny her anything, and although Anderson thought he must know that Carolyn was only coming out to Mexico to find some new kind of thrill with which to relieve her boredom he still allowed her to come. Carolyn looked at him, seeing the conflicting emotions on his face, and said with acute perspicacity:
‘You’re thinking Dad ought to have put his foot down and made me stay at home, aren’t you?’
Bill’s ruddy face was scarlet. ‘It’s nothing to do with me,’ he mumbled, awkwardly.
‘Isn’t it? Perhaps not. Oh, Bill, you think I’ve only come for kicks, don’t you?’
‘Well, haven’t you?’
‘No. I wanted to be with Dad, really I did. If only he would let me take a job, do something useful, it would be different. As it is, I spend my days either lying in bed or at some party or race-track or casino. Heavens, I’m only twenty-two, and I don’t really know of anything I particularly can look forward to.’
Bill Anderson looked thoughtful. ‘I’m sorry, Carolyn,’ he said, his smile repentant. ‘But, please, when you get here, remember we’re in the heart of a country of mainly Spanish descent, where the conventions still matter.’
Carolyn slanted her eyes at him. ‘What you mean is: don’t go around in tight slacks and low-cut dresses, don’t you?’
Bill chuckled. ‘Yes, you’ve said it,’ he said.
‘Are they all terribly conservative?’
‘Terribly. At least Don Carlos is, so far as his women are concerned.’
Carolyn’s eyes widened. ‘His women!’ she echoed. ‘How many women does he have?’
Bill grinned. ‘Oh, nothing like that, love. Perish the thought. No, he has two sisters, and then of course there is his fiancée, Louisa Morelos.’
‘I see.’ Carolyn grimaced. ‘Well, don’t worry, William. I’ll be the soul of virtue!’
Bill couldn’t imagine Carolyn in that role, but he hid his doubts and said: ‘Well, we’re almost there. We turn off here, go through this belt of trees, and then you’ll see the encampment.’
Carolyn’s eyes twinkled. ‘Encampment! Heavens, we sound like gypsies.’
‘We are, in a way. At any rate, we sleep in tents, and cook in the open most days.’
Carolyn felt those awful twinges of apprehension. ‘Sounds primitive,’ she murmured, and thought longingly of a shower.
The belt of trees that Bill had mentioned seemed, to Carolyn, like a closely confined piece of jungle. The track, overhung with flowering shrubs and undergrowth, was practically non-existent in places where the rain had combined with the sultry heat to cultivate thick creepers that hid the track from view. She thought it would be a terrible place to lose oneself at night. Beneath the trees the air seemed more humid than ever, and she was glad when the bright sunlight ahead of them heralded the end of the forest.
They emerged into comparatively open country, and now Carolyn could see the moderately large encampment of tents, several jeeps parked alongside, while a delicious smell of cooking made her realise suddenly that she was hungry.
‘Home, sweet home,’ said Bill, with some satisfaction, and Carolyn said:
‘I hope there’s plenty of water. I’m dying to rinse this awful dust off me!’
Bill gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Well, there are showering facilities,’ he remarked, slowly. ‘But I think you might find it a little different from what you’re used to.’
Carolyn spread wide her hands, stretching. ‘The way I feel at the moment, I could strip off and dive into the stream,’ she exclaimed. ‘But it will be nice to see Dad again. And I won’t make too many complaints, I promise.’
Bill brought the Land-Rover bumping across the grassy stretch to where the encampment began. Now that they were closer, Carolyn could see a definite pattern in the layout of the site. Tents, obviously used for sleeping, were grouped at one side, while the cooking and kitchen departments were housed in open-sided marquee-type dwellings. Toilet facilities were not apparently visible, and Carolyn smiled to herself with some derision. Bill had certainly been right to warn her. But she was no defeatist, and she thrust her doubts aside, and as Bill sounded his horn loudly to herald their arrival, she smiled cheerfully, and slid out of the vehicle to greet her father, who came out of one of the tents at the far side of the site, carrying his spectacles, an eye-shield pushed up his forehead. A tall, broad man with greying hair, he looked dear and lovable, and Carolyn forgot all her misgivings and sped across the dusty grass to fling her arms round him exuberantly.
Bill looked on tolerantly, while several other members of the group emerged to find out what was going on. They looked at Carolyn with some indulgence; most of them knew her, and as the majority of the party were in their forties and fifties, the sight of a pretty girl after three months in the bush was a welcome sight.
Carolyn drew back from her father, and he smiled warmly. ‘Good to see you, my dear,’ he said, looking at her with evident satisfaction. ‘You are certainly a sight for sore eyes! Did you have a good journey?’
‘So-so! It was okay until we reached Veracruz. What a terrible road we had to negotiate to get here! I thought I was going to split in two!’
Professor Madison laughed. ‘Not you. You’re not made of glass. You know I had my doubts earlier today, knowing what conditions are like here, but I really think it might be the best thing I’ve ever done for you. After all, you’ve been coddled long enough. It’s time you learned a little about the other side of the coin. Besides, you may find it interesting.’ He glanced around. ‘You remember Donald, don’t you?’ he went on, nodding to the men who were approaching; ‘and Lester, and Tom Revie.’
Carolyn nodded, and greeted the other men. There were seven or eight more on the fringes of the group who she knew less well, but she expected she would soon be familiar with all of them. She wondered what she would do, how she would fill her days, and then decided she would not think ahead, but just take every day as it came.
One of the men produced a tray of coffee, and Carolyn sat in a canvas chair, drank the coffee, smoked a cigarette, and thought things might not be so bad after all.
Her father was really pleased to see her, and they had so much to say to one another. The pride with which he introduced her to all the members of his team banished all traitorous thoughts from her mind, and she determined to show him how easily she could adapt herself to her new surroundings. At least her experiences, whatever they might turn out to be, would provide her with endless topics of conversation when she eventually returned to London.
As it was getting quite late, the men had finished their work for the day, and were quite prepared to sit around, drinking beers and smoking, and joining in the general conversation. Really, thought Carolyn, were it not for the shortage of women, they might be a group of people anywhere indulging in pre-dinner chatter.
She looked curiously at the men. Of the younger ones, she liked Bill Anderson and David Laurence best. They were both in their late twenties and unmarried. Simon Dean was young too, but as he had a wife somewhere in the background Carolyn refused to take his advances seriously. She considered him weak and self-indulgent, and felt sorry for the unfortunate Mrs. Dean wherever she might be. The older men were easier to know and easier to get along with. Donald Graham and Tom Revie she had known for a long time, and usually accompanied the professor everywhere. Young and old alike they had something in common, she decided; a love of the outdoor life, discovering ancient relics, and brown, sunburnt complexions. Dressed in open-necked shirts and either cream denims or shorts, they looked cool and relaxed, and Carolyn wished she felt the same. That was the trouble with men, she thought, they didn’t seem to realise that what a woman wanted most after a journey like she had experienced was a cool shower, and a change of clothes.
Eventually, her father rose to his feet. ‘Well, time’s getting on,’ he said, ‘and I expect you’d like a shower and a change of clothes before dinner, wouldn’t you, Carolyn?’
Carolyn smiled. ‘I thought you’d never guess,’ she said.
The professor put an arm across her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry. But you’ve no idea how delightful it is, hearing news of England first hand. After all, the papers we get here are a week old before we read them.’
Carolyn rose also, and said: ‘Where am I to sleep, then?’
Professor Madison led her across the grassy stretch to where several tents were grouped. He lifted the flap of one and said: ‘This has been allotted to you, my dear, and I’m just next door. It looks spartan, but it’s quite comfortable really. These air-beds are remarkably comfortable.’
Carolyn stepped inside. As her father had said, it did look spartan, the bare earth partly covered by a cotton rug beside a low camp bed. Near by was a rough wood table, and a chair, and a polythene erection served as a wardrobe. Electricity was supplied from their own generator, her father explained, which was an extension of the one owned by Don Carlos, the owner of the valley.
‘I expect Bill told you about Don Carlos, didn’t he?’ went on the professor, smiling and nodding as two Mexicans came in carrying Carolyn’s cases and boxes.
‘He did mention him,’ agreed Carolyn, sitting on the bed to test it. ‘Sounds quite a character, by all accounts. Tell me,’ she stood up, rubbing the seat of her pants, ‘who supplies all this equipment?’
‘We do. Lord, Carolyn, how many cases have you brought? You must have paid out a fortune in excess baggage!’
Carolyn grimaced. ‘I did rather,’ she nodded. ‘But, darling, I couldn’t come all this way, into a climate like this, without having at least two changes of clothes for every day.’
‘Every day of the time you’ll be here, by the looks of things,’ remarked Professor Madison, dryly. ‘And what’s that? A record player?’
‘Of course. Heavens, I had to provide myself with some entertainment! Besides, it will be fun in the evenings, if we can dance or something—’
‘Dance!’ Her father stared at her. ‘Now look here, Carolyn, let’s get one or two things straight first of all: to begin with, as you are the only woman in a camp of over twenty men, including the Indian helpers, of course, I want you to behave yourself. How on earth could you conduct a dance here, with every man on the site competing for your favours? No, Carolyn, that is definitely out. And another thing, I know you’re used to running wild back in London, but here, in Zaracus, things are very different, and I want you to act with some degree of decorum, and finally, I do not wish you to get involved in any way with any of the men on the site. No’—as Carolyn would have protested—‘nobody! Is that understood?’
Carolyn’s cheeks were red. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she exclaimed hotly. ‘Heavens, you’re acting as though I was the original Mata Hari, or something! I’ve never given you any reason to speak to me like that! I didn’t come here to disrupt the expedition, I came to see you, to be with you. Now you’re making me wish I’d never come!’
‘Oh, Carolyn, that was not my intention, although I must admit that when I saw you arriving I had some uncertainty as to the wiseness of such an intrusion. But you’re here now, and I want you to feel at home and get completely acclimatised before you meet Don Carlos. Bill may have told you that he does not know of your arrival. Needless to say, I expect a little antipathy on his part; after all, he is of Spanish descent, and they do not treat their women as equals. Certainly not as equals in an adventure of this kind. It is fortunate that he is away at the moment, which will give you the opportunity to settle in before he discovers your presence here.’
‘Oh heavens!’ Carolyn raised her dark eyebrows in exasperation. ‘What does it matter what he thinks? He’s not in charge of the expedition, you are! How can he dictate what you do?’
‘Carolyn, this is Mexico, not England, and this valley belongs to Don Carlos. In the eyes of the Mexicans, he is the lord of Zaracus, and as such, his word is law! We rely a great deal on his assistance; he supplies us with the very necessary help we need for much of the labouring involved in this dig. Should he refuse us the labour, or even order us to leave the valley, we should be sunk. Surely you can see the position I am in.’
‘Well, I think it all sounds positively feudal, like Bill said,’ retorted Carolyn, frowning. ‘But all right, Dad. We’ll play it your way. Just don’t expect too much all at once, will you?’
The professor laughed. ‘No, I won’t do that,’ he said. ‘Now come along, and I’ll show you where the shower is. It’s rather primitive, too, but no doubt it will serve the purpose.’
The shower was accommodated in a wooden shed, which Carolyn supposed was an improvement on the canvas tents. It comprised quite simply an overhead tank which was filled with rainwater, and sprayed an icy scattering of water when the catch was released. The professor laughed at Carolyn’s expression, and then left her to her ablutions.
Carolyn stripped off her clothes, thrusting them carelessly into the bag she had brought with her. She laid a huge orange bath towel and her clean change of clothes over two hooks which protruded from the wooden walls. She released the plug and almost screamed with shock as the icy water fell on to her overheated body. But after a few moments the spray became quite enjoyable, and she rinsed all the dust and perspiration from her skin with appreciation. After the exhausting day she had experienced it was wonderful to feel clean and cool again, and it was amazing how her doubts and anxieties fell away with the advent of this feeling of well-being. She was about to turn off the water when looking down she saw an enormous beetle crawling across the muddy floor at her feet.
Ordinarily, she would have behaved quite sensibly and stepped out of its way, but in her still overstimulated condition it seemed the last straw. Panic over-riding all her natural inhibitions she let out a sharp cry, and grabbed at the orange towel desperately. Winding it unceremoniously around her, she thrust open the door, almost falling out in her haste, and then found herself grasped roughly by a man who had narrowly avoided being hit by the carelessly opened door.
Carolyn struggled wildly, almost dislodging the indifferently fastened towel, as she looked up into the man’s face. There was no doubt that he was one of the Mexicans with his darkly tanned skin and dark eyes, and she did not care just then who he was. She wanted to be free, to get as far away from that revolting insect, if such a huge thing could be called an insect, as possible.
‘Let me go!’ she commanded, angrily. ‘Let me go!’
‘Calm yourself,’ said the man, coldly, but Carolyn did not notice that he had spoken in English.
‘I won’t calm myself,’ she exclaimed, furiously.
‘Excuse me!’ The sarcasm in the man’s voice was lost on Carolyn, as he stepped past her and secured the catch of the tank, thus preventing the remains of its contents from being lost. Carolyn had forgotten to turn it off in her haste. Then he looked back at her and Carolyn gathered the towel closer about her, as she became aware of the scarcity of her attire. Her damp hair was in disorder about her shoulders, and for the first time in her life she felt unable to cope with the situation. She realised she must appear very foolish and her anger overrode her common decency.
‘How you—you people can live in such appalling circumstances is beyond me!’ she exploded. ‘Like—like animals! Do you realise I could have been eaten alive by the bugs in that ghastly hell-hole!’
The man’s eyes grew colder if that was humanly possible, and for the first time Carolyn became aware of a kind of hauteur about him, and felt the first twinges of apprehension. The man was tall, much taller than most of the Mexicans she had seen since her arrival, with a lean, hard body. His features were lean also, and if not handsome he possessed a compellingly attractive countenance. His hair was thick and black as pitch, and grew rather low on his tanned neck. Dressed in a loose white shirt, and stained, cream cotton trousers who else could he be than one of the labourers?
Then, all at once, her father was there, with Donald Graham, looking hot and flustered, his expression one of annoyance when he looked at Carolyn.
‘Don Carlos,’ he was saying with some humility. ‘Whatever is going on here? Carolyn?’
Don Carlos! Carolyn’s stomach plunged. It couldn’t be true! This man, dressed like one of his own labourers, could not be the lord of Zaracus!
But he was, of course, and now Carolyn knew why her father was looking so angry. Hadn’t he only been telling her half an hour ago that their being in the valley relied on Don Carlos’s permission? But he had also said that Don Carlos was away so surely she could be forgiven for mistaking his identity. But even so, a small voice argued inside her, she had been rude, very rude, and there was no excuse for that, no matter who he was. After all, she was a visitor to his country, and as such ought to act with politeness. What had her father said? With some degree of decorum! That was it, well, she had failed, abysmally, and heaven knew what was going to happen now.
‘I’m afraid this—er—young lady seems to have encountered some difficulty while she was taking a shower,’ Don Carlos was saying, smoothly. ‘Unfortunately, I have not the knowledge of her name, or of the reason she is here.’ His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Professor Madison. ‘I gather you know the young lady.’
His accent was effortless, and Carolyn chided herself for not realising that he was no uneducated native from the bush.
Professor Madison’s face was bright red. ‘I’m sorry, Don Carlos, but I feel this is neither the time nor the place to introduce you to my daughter. Carolyn, I would suggest you find your clothes and go to your tent and put them on—at once!’
Carolyn immediately felt as though she had been reduced to about five years old, and it took the greatest amount of courage to open the shower door and retrieve her bag and stuff her clean clothes inside it. As she did so she saw the crushed bug on the floor. Obviously someone had placed their foot firmly on it, preventing any further intrusion on its part. And only one person could have had the chance to do that.
She straightened and emerged from the hut, passing the small group of men without a word, although she allowed herself one glance at Don Carlos. Her eyes met his dark enigmatic ones for one moment, and she felt a surge of fury. She was sure she could see a faint glimmer of sardonic amusement in their depths, and gathering up the ends of the orange towel she made as distinguished an exit as she could.
