taken and lodged in separate huts.
Then it was Casca's turn.
The old priest, with his escort of lesser holy men, slowly faced this stranger from the sea. Smiling a toothless grin, the old man said in gentle tones, 'Xiteohua tiotec, Chmpe xaoca huacn?' Then he pointed to himself and said, 'Tezmec.' He thumped his meager chest and repeated, 'Tezmec.' Placing his ancient hand over Casca's heart, he thumped the chest and said, 'Chicxa?'
Casca didn't know what the hell the words themselves meant, but he got the general idea. He nodded as if he understood and said, 'I am called Casca.'
The old man backed away from him. There was puzzlement in the ancient eyes. 'Chicxa?' he asked, tentatively.
'Casca. I am Casca.'
Disbelief was in the old priest's eyes. He turned quickly to the Jaguar man who had been in charge of the capturing force and fired a stream of rapid questions at him in a staccato voice. One word was repeated so much that Casca could identify it. It sounded like 'quetza.' Shit. That must be my name he's trying to say. Must be the way they say Casca.
But that was the only word he could make out. While the priest and the leader were talking, Casca took a better look at the pyramid. It was a big thing. A series of stairs led to the top. Whatever was up there was not visible from here, but carved all along the steps was a continuous line of serpent heads, flanking the staircase all the way to the top. Casca looked back at the priest.
The Jaguar leader was now on his knees, drawing a picture in the dust. Obviously he was trying to get across to the high priest how the strangers had come to this land and how they were captured, and either drawing a picture in the dust did the job better than words or maybe there were no words to explain easily in this language what he had seen. He drew what even Casca could tell was a rough sketch of the Viking longships. Then the leader drew a larger sketch of the figureheads on the long-ships. Then the leader drew a larger sketch of the figureheads on the longships, the dragon heads. At this the old priest became extremely agitated. Looking back and forth between Casca and the sketches, he pressed his questioning of the leader. And again and again the word quetza was repeated.
The thing that seemed to excite the old priest the most was the dragon head of the longship. He kept pointing at its rude drawing in the dust.
I don't know what the hell he's getting so worked up about over a piece of carving, Casca thought. They certainly have plenty of carvings here. Again he took in the imposing pyramid. In addition to the painted stuccoed facings, much of the structure was heavily decorated with carvings… heads of the great serpent… and the likeness of another ugly bastard that Casca knew nothing about. Further, the body of a great serpent was intertwined in high relief between carvings of sea shells and snails. Casca raised his eyes higher. He saw that there were six levels to the pyramid, each decreasing in size toward the top. At the very top there was what appeared to be a temple constructed of dark wood. He couldn't see it very well from where he stood, just the upper portion of what appeared to be a temple. If there was anything else up there it was beyond his vision.
Finally the old priest seemed satisfied with the Jaguar leader's story and came back to Casca. He looked him up and down, chattering in approval at what he saw. The scarred, muscular body of the prisoner seemed to please him particularly. He nodded in approval and patted Casca on the shoulder. Then he took a shining dagger of black obsidian from his belt and cut Casca's bonds.
What the hell? Casca thought. But the sudden pain in his wrists caused by the blood flowing in and setting the flesh cramping and on fire took his mind off the odd behavior of these religious bastards. The old priest gave rapid orders to the Jaguar men. Two escorted Casca across the great square and into a building set slightly apart from the others. Guards stood at the doors. Their flint-tipped spears and feathered shields were different from those of the Jaguar men and bore a snake emblem.
Casca noticed a slight reluctance when the Jaguar men turned him over to the Serpent warriors guarding the doors.
Oho… a little rivalry between the snakes and the cats. Perhaps to my advantage… As he entered the interior of the building he momentarily lost his vision, coming as he did from the bright glare. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he saw that his new guards were making him welcome with smiles and bobbing heads. They were pointing out the different features of his quarters. There were two rooms and a small latrine. The walls inside were covered with pictographs representing heroes and legends he could not yet decipher but they did serve to brighten up the room. Over in the corner near the window was a raised benchlike affair on which were several reed mats and a couple of woven blankets. Bed, he thought, that's what I need. His captors showed him how to cover the windows and made signs to show that food would soon be brought to him.
The guards left him to his own devices and returned to their positions outside the door. There was no other exit. Lying on the pallet, Casca tried to take in all that had happened since his capture. There were questions in his mind, too many to be answered. What of his men and his ships? Were they all right? Would they stay where they were or come looking for him? He considered the latter to be unlikely. They were sea rovers, not jungle fighters. No, they would stay close to their ships and wait for him. But for how long?
The evening was drawing to a close, and long shadows were being cast across the great square. People were beginning to gather around the base of the largest pyramid not the one with all the snake heads on it, but the other. Group by group the people came until the plaza was filled. The drab white and sand-colored garb of the commoners was broken here and there by the rich spectacle of the feather-clad warriors and nobility; from this distance they resembled giant butterflies on a field of gray. There was a muted murmuring that swelled and then died as if on command. Then came drums and a distant chanting. The people kneeled all except a line of warriors who appeared out of the mass as if by magic and flanked the broad thoroughfares and sides of the square. Their lance points glittered like gems; their plumed headdresses sparkled with brilliance.
Casca had been around long enough to spot soldiers, and that's what these were. They were proud ones, too. The Jaguar men and Serpent soldiers were most in evidence and held the positions nearest the pyramid. They faced each other on opposite sides of the square, and a separate line of each ran from the thoroughfare to the steps of the pyramid and up the long flight of steps leading to the temple on top.
Many of the warriors had their faces painted in patterns. The designs apparently had some significance, but it eluded Casca. Most of them used only yellow and red to separate their faces at the nose, the upper half being red and the bottom being yellow, with black outlining around the eyes giving them a weird and terrible look as if they were strange beings from the netherworld or from a nightmare.
The drums began to beat, slowly at first, then building in intensity. From the north Casca could see a procession approaching. Here were the priests. The priests had a look about them that he could spot as easily as he had the look of the warriors. First there were the lesser priests in front, chanting and waving branches. Their faces were painted black. Apparently only the priests used black as a dominant color. The more important priests following, though, seemed to have more liberty in their body painting for they used yellow and red on their faces along with the black.
As the focus of the procession two Jaguar guards held a man by the arms as if helping him along. He was garbed in the most beautiful of feather robes, the colors so brilliant they looked as if the feathers from ten thousand hummingbirds had been taken and woven in a magical manner. On his head he wore a feathered crest set over a helmet that appeared to be the likeness of a serpent. As the procession grew closer, Casca could see that the man was the first of the native prisoners that the old priest had pointed out. The prisoner's eyes were glazed. Casca had seen that same look many times on the faces of religious fanatics, and also on the faces of men who had accepted death and knew it was coming.
Sacrifice… they are going to sacrifice… The truth hit Casca like old Thor's hammer. That's the reason they have been so careful to get us here alive and in good health. They are going to sacrifice all of us to their gods…
Step by step the procession advanced. The solemnity of the ceremony was impressive in spite of the grisly reason. The priests and the ones leading the man to be sacrificed walked in stately dignity. The crowd knelt, bowing their heads to the ground from their kneeling position. Only the brilliantly garbed soldiers remained erect. The scene was strange, bizarre, but the orderliness of the procession and the controlled behavior of the crowd was in sharp contrast to the religious rituals Casca had witnessed in Europe and Asia Minor.
The procession reached the first steps of the pyramid just as the shadows of the ending day began to grow
