Platform of the Skulls and out of the central precinct, and then followed Jeremy along a wide processional way that led down a shallow gradient and through the jungle to the north. After about two hundred metres they scrambled down an irregular rocky slope and stood on the edge of an eroded platform. In front of them was a vast sinkhole, some fifty metres across and twenty metres deep, its rim overhung with lush greenery and the limestone walls receding inwards through a series of striated ledges. The pool at the bottom was a putrid green, covered with a dense layer of algae and fallen vegetation. There was no access point to the water, and they could see that for anyone unfortunate enough to slip off the platform there would be no escape.
“The Cenote of Sacrifice at Chichen Itza,” Jack murmured. “I’ve always wanted to see this.”
“Cenote?” Costas said.
“A Spanish word, from the Mayan dzonot, meaning ‘sacred well, well of sacrifice,’” Jeremy explained. “I was telling you about it on the beach. The whole of the Yucatan was once a coral reef, then it became a limestone plateau during the Ice Age when the sea level lowered. Over millions of years rainwater percolated into the limestone and created a huge labyrinth of caves and tunnels, filled with stalagtites and stalagmites. Then at the end of the Ice Age, eight thousand years ago, the sea level rose again and the system flooded. Caves with ceilings that remained above water eventually collapsed, creating sinkholes like this one.”
“What about the earth tremors?”
“We’re just south of a huge meteorite impact site, the Chicxulub crater, which underlies much of the north Yucatan.”
“The one that wiped out the dinosaurs?” Costas said, looking around him with mock alarm. “Anything bad that didn’t happen here?”
Jeremy grinned. “The dinosaur disaster’s true. The rim is marked by a ring of cenotes, many of them collapsed into sinkholes. Nobody really knows why, but the crater underneath has some kind of de-stabilising effect on the limestone.”
“A cave-diver’s paradise.”
“It’s incredible,” Jeremy enthused. “Divers have explored systems fifty, a hundred kilometres long. Some of them are underwater rivers that run out into the sea. Below the slime it’s crystal clear, like swimming in an aquarium filled with spectacular calcite formations. But it’s also lethal. It put me off learning to dive when I was here as a student. More divers have died here than almost anywhere else in the world.”
“The Toltecs would have approved,” Jack said.
“Let me guess,” Costas said. “They sacrificed humans here as well.”
“The Well of Sacrifice was first dredged for artefacts in the 1930s, but then in the 1950s it was one of the first archaeological sites to be explored using scuba equipment,” Jack replied. “There have been other expeditions. Cousteau came here. The deepest deposits are still unexplored, but masses of artefacts have come up-pottery vessels, gold, jade. Almost all of it was thrown into the well intact, ritually deposited. And they found human skeletons. Hundreds of them.”
“It’s the same story all over the Yucatan,” Jeremy added. “Cenotes were the source of fresh water for the Maya, but also entrances to the underworld. They sacrificed warriors, maidens, children. That little building over there is the temazcal, a kind of sauna where victims were ritually purified. The stone ledges we’ve just come down were spectator seating, where the Toltec elite could sit and watch.”
“I guess variety is the spice of life,” Costas murmured distastefully. “Once you’ve seen a few thousand hearts ripped out back there at the temple, you might want a change of scene.”
An official appeared sweating and panting behind them on the processional way, waving a cellphone and beckoning for Jeremy to take it. Jeremy hesitated, knowing that he had been mistaken for the leader. He looked towards Jack, who smiled and gestured for him to go. As Jeremy clambered up with the official to find higher ground for better reception, Jack turned back and peered over the edge of the platform. The pool looked strangely benign, but for a moment his breath tightened as he felt the terror of the victims a thousand years ago poised at the edge of the underworld.
“You say there’s still stuff down there.” Costas wiped the sheen of sweat from his face, then looked questioningly at Jack.
“Most of the artefacts and bones higher up have been lifted, but there are still deeply buried deposits where you might find heavier objects.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Your sub-bottom borer,” Jack replied with a grin. “Maybe if things work out in the Golden Horn, we could approach the Mexican authorities and suggest a shift to operations here.”
“Do you think there’s a chance?”
Jack rubbed his chin and squinted against the glare off the rock. “From what Jeremy’s been telling us, this is the place where trophies of war might have been presented to the gods. Let’s imagine Harald and his crew made it ashore somewhere north of here, then were captured.”
“God, I hope not,” Costas said. “That would have been a major letdown after all they’d been through.”
“For the Vikings who weren’t lucky enough to die in battle, there was only one fate. The warriors would have their hearts ripped out back there at the temple. Any retainers who survived might have been enslaved. Maybe your friend who somehow made the trek back to the cairn.”
“The scars on his wrists and ankles,” Costas said. “Shackles.”
Jack nodded. “Others might have been brought here to this very spot for sacrifice. A spectacular procession from the temple to the cenote, the climax of the ritual of victory. Just like a Roman emperor’s triumph. Crushing the Vikings would have been a big deal for the Toltecs, victory over blond, bearded giants with their fearsome weapons of iron. They’d come here like foreign gods, and the Toltecs had vanquished them. The spoils of war would have been presented to the gods.”
“The menorah would have been a pretty spectacular sacrifice.”
“How much did you reckon it weighed? Three hundred, maybe three hundred and fifty pounds?”
“That’s an awful lot of gold to throw away.”
“It is an awful lot.” Jack looked at the shimmer of green on the pool below them, then back at Costas. “And the Toltecs did like their gold.”
Jeremy reappeared over the limestone ridge and began to make his way down towards them. He was tottering slightly, and he sat down heavily on a rock. They could see he was ashen-faced.
“The heat’s getting to you.” Costas looked at him with concern, and passed over his water bottle. “Drink this and let’s get into the shade.”
“It’s not that.” Jeremy’s voice was hoarse, barely audible, and he let the bottle slip from his fingers. “I just spoke to Ben. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.” He looked up at Jack, his face stricken. “The worst.”
Jack felt a cold dread grip his stomach. He had tried to prepare himself. He had hoped they would beat the odds.
“It’s from Iona.” Jeremy looked bewildered, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. His voice was barely a whisper. “It’s Father O’Connor. He’s been murdered. And Maria’s missing.”
17
Later,how much later she could not tell, Maria surfaced from a terrifying pit of darkness, her mind clawing its way out of some unremembered horror. She seemed exhausted beyond belief, spent by her struggle against the faceless demon of her dreams, yet she felt weighed down by the heaviness that follows deep sleep. For what seemed an eternity she lay motionless, drifting in and out of consciousness, waiting for her body to respond. She sensed her breathing, felt the hardness of the surface beneath her, a crick in her neck. She was lying in a foetal position on her right side, her hands tucked between her legs. Slowly she opened her eyes. It was dark, but not as dark as her dreams. From the corner of one eye she saw a flickering, a candle. The wall in front of her was covered with shapes, colours. She saw splashes of red.
Her breathing stopped. She went rigid. O’Connor’s study. She shut her eyes tightly, yearning for that darkness again, anything to blot out a reality she scarcely believed, a horror she tried desperately to push back into her dreams.
