Time Travel Omnibus, page 271
They came straight toward us, and we stiffened in the saddles and gripped our sword-hilts. Then with a crash of horns, they stopped. Through their ranks was borne a magnificent litter, studded with bright jewels and covered by a canopy of woven green feathers of brilliant hue.
This litter was set down by the richly-dressed Aztec nobles who had carried it. Out of it stepped the most splendidly apparelled figure in all that throng. I, Nick Clark, knew that I was looking at Montezuma himself, hereditary lord of the far-flung Aztec empire.
He wore on his head a circlet of massive gold representing a winged snake whose eyes were flashing emeralds. Over his fine white tunic was a wonderful cloak of woven green plumes, and his sandals were heavily embroidered with gold. The maquahuitl or Aztec sword at his side was of jewels, instead of flint. He was of middle age, and his dark, red-brown face was distinctly handsome. But it seemed to me there were shadows of apprehension in his expressive black eyes as he looked at us.
Cortez had dismounted and stood waiting with Marina, our Indian woman interpreter. Glistening in steel from helmet to toe, our leader strode forward and greeted the Aztec king through the means of Marina’s translation. Then, she translated as Montezuma replied.
“Malinche,” he addressed Cortez, “you and your company are welcome in Tenochtitlan, whether or not you are indeed the sons of Quetzal.”
“Quetzal?” repeated Cortez puzzledly, and the Indian woman made quick explanation.
“Quetzalcoatl is an ancient god of the Aztec people, who is supposed to have been a white-skinned man who came from the rising sun.”
“Ha, so they’re superstitious about us?” muttered Cortez. “That is well. Tell him we are indeed the sons of Quetzal, Marina.”
It seemed to me that a pallor came over Montezuma’s face as he heard. He bowed almost humbly. Then he presented his chief nobles.
Cuitlahua, his brother and the lord of Iztapalapa, was a massive-faced warrior who also regarded us with superstitious awe. But Guatemozin, the king’s nephew, an eagle-faced, stalwart young man in brilliant plumes, had the shadow of a secret, scornful smile in his black eyes as he bowed.
“I shall myself conduct you to the palace assigned you, Malinche,” Montezuma then declared, and re-entered his jewelled litter.
We spurred forward and followed the guarded litter down the causeway and into the city itself. And my heart was pounding with excited hope as I looked at the silent, awe-stricken, watching Aztec crowds.
Were Kay and Burke Ullman among those crowds, in Aztec bodies? Was Kay watching me at this moment, unaware that it was I?
Doctor Madison had said that when Ullman went back to seek the secret of the Aztec hoard, he had planned to enter the body of one of Montezuma’s household. And that Kay, seeking to find and help Ullman, had planned the same thing. But how was I, Nick Clark, to find them among Montezuma’s numerous noblas and retainers?
Sandoval’s sharp exclamation cut into my desperate thoughts. “Mira! Look at that temple, Lopez!”
WE were approaching the large open square at the center of the city. The great metropolis was all around us now, a maze of flat-roofed buildings of pink stone laced by tropical green gardens and cut through by intersecting canals crowded with canoes. All around this fairy city lay the blue lake, crossed by causeways running north, south and west. And seemingly hundreds of thousands of the red-brown Aztecs choked the city through which we passed, staring at us and our horses and guns in wonder.
But Sandoval was looking up at the colossal white temple that rose from the central square. The flattened summit of that huge terraced pyramid was two hundred feet above our heads. Up there on the summit was a small, chapel-like structure, and near it was an enormous hanging drum that was now suddenly booming like rolling thunder over the crowded city.
“Dios, what’s that?” exclaimed my comrade startledly.
Marina, who walked beside Cortez, shuddered. “It is the temple of Huitzilpochtli, god of war. They are sacrificing victims, for only then does the serpent drum beat.”
I too felt a shiver of repulsion. Human sacrifice! And Kay was somewhere in this barbaric place!
Across the square from the great temple of Huitzil was a walled palace into whose enclosure Montezuma and his nobles conducted us.
“Malinche, this was the palace of my father Axayaca,” the Aztec emperor told our leader. “It is now your lodging. Tonight, in feast at my own palace on Chapultepec, we shall greet you more fittingly.”
Montezuma then left us, with Cuitlahua and Guatemozin and his other guards. Silently, we looked at Cortez.
He first gave sharp orders to the men to close the gates of the palace wall, mount our guns, and set guards. Then, inside the glistening white main hall of our new lodging, he spoke rapidly to us captains.
“Gentlemen, we are in a dangerous situation but a brave man can pluck riches out of danger. You have all seen the wealth of this city.”
“Aye, and we’ve seen its hordes,” muttered De Oli. “There’s as many warriors here as there are sands in the sea.”
Alvarado flashed his carefree smile. “Diablo, one good Christian sword is worth a hundred of these heathen dogs.”
“Their superstition makes them think we may be gods,” Cortez said craftily. “If we can play on that, everything will be ours. So see that there is no drunkenness or brawling at Montezuma’s feast tonight.”
“How many of us go with you to the feast, Don Hernando?” I asked him anxiously.
I waited tensely for the answer. If Kay and Ullman were now two members of the Aztec king’s household, I might somehow find them there.
“A half-dozen of us will be enough,” Cortez decided. “Alvarado, Sandoval, De Montejo, Avila and you, Lopez. De Oli, I leave you in command here.”
I felt sharp relief at being included in the party. And in the next few hours I awaited with feverish impatience the coming of night.
It all seemed like a dream as I, Nick Clark, watched the red sun sink in a blaze of splendor in the west. As darkness fell upon Tenochtitlan, torchlight flared from windows and rooftops. Lights were gliding along the canals and across the lake. And atop the dark temple of Huitzil, bulking like a thundercloud against the stars, a red fire glowed.
I shuddered again with repulsion, wondering sickly how many prisoners were huddled in the cages of that sinister pile, waiting their turn to have their hearts torn from their living bodies before the idol. For such, Marina had told us, was the Aztec method of sacrifice.
CUITLAHUA, the king’s brother, came to conduct us to the feast. We six captains in full armor, and Marina, went amid guards bearing torches along the causeway leading west. The way led up the hill of Chapultepec through a grove of enormous cypresses to the oblong stone mass of Montezuma’s palace.
We all, I think, felt oppressed by the fantastic strangeness. Unfamiliar birds shrieked from the dark trees, and there was a blood-chilling wauling from the cages in which were kept the king’s ocelots, or Mexican tigers. Indian slaves and Aztec warriors were to be seen everywhere.
Inside the palace, the banquet-hall was a long, white hall brilliant with torchlight and heavy with incense-smoke of burning copal. There were more than a hundred people here, members of Montezuma’s family, subject kings, and lesser nobles. The feast was prepared on low tables, but the Aztec ruler sat alone at a table of his own.
He rose to greet us, speaking again through the interpreter. He first introduced many of the brilliant, jewelled throng.
“You know my brother Cuitlahua and my nephew Guatemozin,” he said. “These others be the lords of Tezcuco, Tacuba, Tlacopan and other provinces. Yonder women are my two queens and the princess Atzala.”
Atzala, Montezuma’s daughter, was a lithe girl of tigress beauty in brilliant feather headdress and cloak, at whom Alvarado stared long.
“Diablo, yon wench is one heathen I’d enjoy converting, Lopez,” he whispered to me.
“Aye, I’ll warrant you’d make a Christian of her sooner than Father Olmedo could,” chaffed Sandoval.
I paid little heed to their talk, for my eyes were desperately searching the faces of the brilliant, barbaric throng.
Were Kay and Ullman in this very room, in other bodies? It seemed possible. Yet how was I to know them, how make them know me?
“Malinche,” Montezuma was saying to Cortez, “if you are indeed teules or gods, why did you sons of Quetzal come to our land?”
Cortez answered readily, pointing to the solid golden dishes on the tables. “We came seeking that yellow metal. It is prized among us.”
Guatemozin spoke, an ironical look on his eagle face. “Is it possible that the gods are so poor they have not even the yellow metal?”
“That fellow is a doubter,” muttered De Montejo to me. “He doesn’t believe we’re teules.”
“The gods have great riches—and great power,” Cortez was saying smoothly. “But they have sacred uses for the yellow metal, unknown to you.” Montezuma’s troubled face cleared a little. “If the metal is all you came for, you are welcome to it in whatever quantities you wish. But we shall talk of this later. Now let the feast begin.”
HE seated himself in the very low chair at his table, and we took similar chairs at the other tables. Before us were golden and silver dishes, as well as fine red-and-black Cholulan pottery. There were many kinds of dressed meat and fowl, small cakes of bread, and cups of foaming chocolate. Later they brought us goblets of an alcoholic native drink strongly similar to pulque.
My comrades ate and drank heartily, but their eyes were less on the food than upon the gold, precious stones and pearls about us. The gold-lust that had brought them here was flushing their faces as much as the pulque. All except Alvarado, who was staring admiringly across the table at the princess Atzala. The beautiful Aztec girl was a silent figure.
Montezuma raised his goblet and spoke a few words that Marina rapidly translated for us.
“Invocation to Quetzal, who has deigned to send his sons to visit unworthy Tenochtitlan!”
Cortez answered politely, though I knew his crafty eyes did not miss the covert sneer on Guatemozin’s face. Toasts were drunk back and forth, voices getting louder as the potent pulque did its work.
To my desperate thoughts came a sudden inspiration. I stood up, holding my goblet as though to speak another toast to our royal host. But when I spoke, I spoke rapidly in English.
“Kay! Kay Madison!” I said rapidly. “It’s I, Nick Clark! I’ve come back to find you and Burke!”
My comrades looked at me astonishedly, and Cortez asked me sharply, “What is that you babbled, Lopez? It sounded like English.”
“Only an old toast I learned from an English prisoner once,” I mumbled, sitting down hastily.
I was crushed by disappointment. For there had been no answer at all to my desperate call. And I had cherished a feverish hope that those I sought might be in this very palace.
The feast went on. Slaves constantly replaced the dishes and refilled the goblets. The air was thick with copal incense, and now Indian buffoons and dancers came to entertain us. My hardy comrades, drinking deep despite Cortez’ warning, applauded loudly.
“Ah, this is better than the jungles of Cempoal or the freezing heights of Tlascala!” swore De Avila loudly. “Why so long-faced, Lopez?”
“The incense smothers me,” I muttered. “I need a breath of air before I choke.” In fact, my bitter disappointment had overwhelmed me.
Despairingly I arose, apparently unnoticed in the festivity, and walked to one of the wide doors that opened out into the dark garden.
The air was cool and fresh out there under the great cypresses, and laden with perfume of flowers. Before and below me lay the wonderful panorama of Tenochtitlan by night, winking torches outlining its maze of canals and streets. The black temple of Huitzil flashed a signal fire across the lake. In the distance, Popocatapetl smoked in solemn silence.
A HAND touched my arm and I turned with a start. It was Atzala, the Aztec princess, who had followed me out into the garden. The torchlight from the banquet hall illumined the barbaric beauty of her slim brown figure and naked limbs. But underneath the brilliant plumes of her headdress, her oval face wore a pallor of intense emotion.
“Nick!” she whispered, looking up at me with wild black eyes. “It really is you, Nick?”
Those few words in English sent a bursting wave of almost hysterical relief through me. I grasped her bare shoulders.
“Kay!” I cried. “Then I’ve found you? It is you in this other body, Kay?”
She clung to me, sobbing. And I put my arms around her and held her close to me.
It was a strange moment. Physically, it was Pedro Lopez, the mailed Spanish conquistador, who embraced Atzala, daughter of Montezuma. But actually, it was Nick Clark and Kay Madison of the Twentieth Century who clung almost frantically to each other.
Her black eyes were misted with tears when she looked up. “Oh, Nick—why did you do it? Why did you come back to this terrible place and time?”
“I came after you, Kay! Your father told me how Burke Ullman had come back to this time after the secret of the Aztec treasure, and of how you’d also come back in search of Ullman when he didn’t return. And then you too had failed to return.”
I held her face between my hands. “Kay, why didn’t you return? Why have you stayed on here, in this body?”
“I couldn’t return, Nick,” she gasped. “Burke Ullman wouldn’t let me.”
“Ullman?” I stiffened, for I had almost forgotten. “Then he is here too?”
“Yes, Nick! He seized the body of one of Montezuma’s family, just as I later did. The body of the king’s nephew—Guatemozin.”
“Guatemozin?” I was badly startled. Then I remembered the ironical, skeptical attitude of the royal nephew. “Burke Ullman, in Guatemozin’s body? But why should Ullman prevent you from going back to your own time?”
“He wants the secret of the treasure, Nick. The royal Aztec treasure that was never found, that even in our own time still is hidden.”
I nodded quickly. “I know. Your father told me how he and Ullman planned to learn the secret place of the treasure, so that they could use that wealth to finance their further scientific research.”
KAY’S eyes—Atzala’s black eyes!—flashed. “Burke Ullman never intended to use that treasure for such a purpose, Nick! He really wants the treasure to give himself riches and power, back in our own time. He simply told that story of using the treasure for research so that my father would agree to send him back here, let him learn the secret. He plans to return to our own time with the secret, and to keep it for himself.
“But Ullman hasn’t learned the secret yet. Only Montezuma, the king himself, ever knows where the royal Aztec treasure is hidden. Even the porters who take gold or jewels to add to the hoard are slain upon their return. And the Aztec king tells the secret of the hiding-place only to his successor, when he himself is about to die.
“That’s why Burke Ullman has stayed on and on here in Guatemozin’s body, constantly intriguing to learn the secret from Montezuma. And that’s why he wouldn’t let me return to our own time. For I know his real purposes now, and he dares not let me return and tell father what he is planning.”
“So that’s why Burke Ullman has kept you here!” I exclaimed. All my old dislike of the big, sardonic young scientist had flared up anew. “I might have guessed!”
Then I added quickly, “But Kay, how can he keep you from returning? You’ve only to go to that hill behind Iztapalapa and step into the Beam, and your mind will be drawn out of this body back to your own.”
“I know, but I can’t go there, Nick!” she almost sobbed. “That Hill of the Sun is sacred to the Aztecs, you know. Only when the new sun is born each year may even the royal family go there, as they had gone there when Ullman and I seized the bodies of Guatemozin and Atzala. But at other times, even I am not permitted to approach the Hill of the Sun. And Guatemozin—Ullman—has watched me to make sure that I do not go.”
Hot rage burned up in me. “Ullman won’t stop you any longer, Kay! You and I are both going there—we’re going to enter the Beam and return to our own age and leave Ullman back in this barbaric world!”
She did not answer but her black eyes widened with sudden dread, and I perceived that she was looking over my shoulder.
I turned. A tall, grim figure was behind me, an eagle-faced Aztec magnificent in plumes and jewels and armor.
It was Guatemozin—it was Burke Ullman.
Chapter V
The Abductiion
MY HAND went to the hilt of my sword. It was a moment of tense drama as I confronted my enemy there in the starlit garden of the great Aztec palace. Even to the eye we must have made a dramatic group—Pedro Lopez, the mailed Spanish conquistador, Atzala’s slim, barbarically beautiful figure, and the dark eagle-face and magnificent panoply of Guatemozin.
But only we ourselves knew the superhuman pitch of this conflict. Only we knew that in the bodies of Spanish conqueror and Aztec warrior and royal princess, three people of the Twentieth Century that was still four hundred years in the future now confronted each other.
Ullman—for I must call him that—was first to speak. And the English words came strangely from the lips of Guatemozin.
“I heard you there in the banquet-hall, Nick Clark. So you came back to this time, too?”
He laughed. “You always were an adventurous sort of fool. But I imagine you’ll be sorry for this adventure.
For you are never going to return to your own time. You’ll live out your life in that body, now.”
My fingers tightened on my sword-hilt, and my voice was harsh. “You think you’re going to stop me from returning as you’ve stopped Kay? You’re wrong, Ullman. The treasure be damned! We’re going to leave this.”
“I don’t think so, Clark,” he denied coolly. The smile in his black eyes was damnably confident. “Three of us came back through time, but only one of us is going to return.”
