His arms shooting out like piston rods, he met the attack. Nearly all of them were small, short men, so his height gave him a big advantage and blows from his fists sent one after another reeling. Yet their fanatic urge to pull him down was so strong that, as each of his victims gasped or moaned and toppled over, others took his place.
Breathing hard now and sweating from his exertions, he knew that, unless he could succeed in getting away, his death was certain. They would tear him limb from limb or, perhaps, lug him up to the top of the pyramid and sacrifice him to their evil god, as they had the pigs. But if he ceased to face them, even for a second, and turned to run, they would leap upon his back and hurl him to the ground. So far the fight had lasted barely a minute, but several of them beyond the reach of his punches had run round behind him. At any moment he expected to receive savage blows from them or, worse, the sharp stab of a knife as it was thrust into his back.
In desperation he sprang forward, seized one of them by his long hair, pulled him off his feet and swung him breast high in a scythe-like sweep. The man’s heavy boots tore great gashes in the faces of the two nearest men. Yelling with pain they went over backwards. For the moment Adam’s front was clear. Lifting the man again, he repeated the movement, at the same time swivelling on his heels. He was only just in time. The man’s legs smashed into the body of another actually in the act of jumping. Struck in mid-air, he curved over sideways and hit the earth with a heavy thump. Behind him were four or five others. Letting go of the screaming man he had used as a weapon, Adam charged them. One got a fist full in the face, another a blow on his Adam’s apple, which made his eyes start from his head. He lurched away, vomiting. The others, momentarily cowed as the golden-haired giant rushed upon them, panicked and sprang aside. Suddenly Adam realised that he had fought his way free and, with overwhelming relief, raced off down the road as fast as his long legs could carry him.
Howling with execration, the murderous mob streamed in pursuit of him. He had a lead of only a dozen yards, was gasping for breath and aching from a score of blows that had landed on his body; but his stride being so much longer than that of the Indians, he had good hopes of increasing his lead until they tired and he could get clean away.
His heart hammering in his chest, he pounded on, fear lending him new strength. The trampling of a hundred feet behind him made a continuous roar, broken every few seconds by shouts and curses. After two minutes they sounded a little fainter. But he was now streaming with sweat and his lungs seemed near to bursting. Grimly he realised that he could not keep up that pace and that many of his pursuers who had not participated in the fight were fresher than he was. If they continued the chase they must wear him down.
Almost blinded by the sweat that was running down into his eyes, he was following the road and had not even given a glance at the terrain on either side. A swift turn of his head to find out how far ahead of the mob he was showed him that he had entered an area of bushes and small trees. Suddenly it came to him that by diving in among them he could elude the howling human pack. Swerving, he jumped the roadside ditch and dashed into the undergrowth. Next moment his foot caught in a root, he pitched forward and his head hit a rotting tree stump.
Half stunned, he lay where he had fallen. A good half-minute had gone before he was sufficiently recovered to stagger to his feet. Once more, in desperate fear for his life, he began to thrust his way through the bushes. But the fall seemed to have driven the last strength from his body. He had not stumbled ten yards before he heard the cracking of small branches in his rear. His brain was in a whirl. It was much darker there than out on the open road. He could no longer see his way and felt utterly exhausted. Brought up short by a small tree, he staggered and fell again. In a matter of seconds, with exultant shouts, the mob was upon him.
A dozen hands grabbed at his clothes, his arms, his hair. With kicks and curses they dragged him to his feet, then pushed and pulled him back towards the pyramid; but their progress was slow because they were as breathless as he was. Dimly he realised this and for the next few minutes the thought that it might give him another chance germinated in his mind. To recruit his strength, he began to take long, deep breaths.
They had nearly reached the place where he had been attacked when he made his effort. Two men were holding each of his arms, but, compared with him, they were puny creatures. Suddenly coming to a halt, he tensed his muscles, threw his weight backwards and wrenched himself free. Seizing the two nearest Indians by the neck, he banged their heads together, then began to strike out, first to one side then to the other.
His blows no longer had their former strength, but several of his captors staggered back from them. Others cannoned into one another in the wild scramble to seize him again. The greater part of the crowd had been shuffling along in his rear and his sudden attack now gave him the chance he had prayed for. To his right front no-one barred his path. Drawing a deep breath, he launched himself forward.
He had covered no more than ten feet when something hit him lightly on the head and slid down over his face. It was a rope. Suddenly it jerked tight round his neck. With an agonised gasp, he came to an abrupt halt. A muleteer in the crowd behind had lassoed him.
Half choked, he grabbed the noose with both hands to save himself from being throttled. He had barely succeeded in loosening it a little before he was again surrounded and seized. His last hope of escape was gone.
Jostling and shouting, his captors pushed him along the road, then across the coarse grassland towards the pyramid. It was now deserted, but they took him round behind it. There, as he had supposed from the bright glow he had seen, a big fire of brushwood was burning. Above it, spitted on long poles supported by trestles, the torn carcasses of the two pigs were being roasted. Beyond the fire stood a long, low barn and Adam was taken into it.
Evidently it was there that the priest had changed into his Indian robes and feathered head-dress. Still wearing them, he and several older men who had not joined in the chase were in the barn seated at a rough table drinking tequila from thick tumblers. As Adam was dragged in front of them they rose to their feet and glowered at him.
During the past few minutes he had again recovered his breath and, although his body was bruised all over, he had suffered no serious injury. Owing to his height none of the blows aimed at him had reached his face and, as he had hit the tree stump with the side of his head, his features remained unmarred. A loud grunt caused him to glance towards the corner of the barn from where it had come. Like himself, the pig had evidently been recaptured, as a man stood there holding it by a rope round its neck.
As he faced his captors, Adam felt sick with fear. There could be no disguising the fact that he had been a witness to the abominable rites that had been performed not much more than a quarter of an hour earlier. Although he was not a Catholic, the celebration of a Mass as a prelude to a pagan sacrifice had seemed to him a most appalling sacrilege. They must assume that even an accidental spectator of such a scene would report it, which must lead to the high authorities both of the Church and the police taking drastic action. Therefore, they could not possibly afford to let him go. For their own protection they must silence him, and the only certain way to do that was to kill him.
Their faces dark with anger, the priest and his companions stared at Adam from time to time while arguing in low voices. From the few words he caught, he realised that they were divided. Some of them were set upon his death; the others were fearful of killing him because he was not simply an uninitiated citizen of San Luis Caliente but obviously a foreigner and probably a tourist; so his disappearance was certain to result in an investigation which might prove their ruin.
At length they decided to take a vote, whether he should be killed there and then or made to swear the most awful oaths to keep their secret, with the threat that, should he afterwards betray them, he would never escape their vengeance. At that he took new heart, feeling fairly confident that they would not dare risk a police enquiry.
But his relief was shortlived. Each of them had scribbled on a scrap of paper torn from a single sheet, then passed it to the priest. Having sorted them into two piles, he said in a hoarse voice, ‘Four for reprieve, seven for death.’ Then, addressing the men who were holding Adam by the arms, he added, ‘This is an opportunity to show the gods our complete faith in them. Take him up to the top of the pyramid.’
Adam went as white as a sheet. He had all he could do to prevent himself from trembling. But in that moment inspiration came to him. So far he had not spoken. Now, half-forgotten words of Nahuatl suddenly flowed into his mind. Drawing himself to his full height, he frowned and said:
‘What folly is this to which I have listened with patience? Kill me and your cause is lost. I came here only to assess the loyalty of my followers. Without warning I was attacked. Being now in the form of a human being I was forced to defend myself. Otherwise I would have been sent back prematurely to the place whence I come to lead again my people out of bondage. Do you not recognise me? I am Quetzalcoatl.’
Sitting back, they gasped and stared at him. With new perception they took in his height, his red-gold hair and beard. After a moment of tense silence the priest stammered:
‘It must be.… Only a week back I received word that the Man-God had returned to us … was here in Mexico.… Come again to give us joy and prosperity.’
Standing up, the priest came round from behind the table, followed by his companions. Kneeling, they prostrated themselves before Adam. The men who had been holding him had swiftly stepped away and were now also on their knees, banging their foreheads on the ground.
There followed an awkward silence. Adam was terribly tempted to say, ‘Now, for God’s sake, let me go. Get me a car if it’s possible or, failing that, I’ll walk back to San Luis.’ But he dared not. He could only await developments and hope to reap the best advantage from them.
At last the priest raised his head and said, ‘Mighty Lord, the third pig was caught. I beg that you will not refuse us the honour of sacrificing it in the presence of us, your slaves.’
A lump rose in Adam’s throat, but he saw no alternative to agreeing, and gave a silent nod.
Taking off his rich garments, the priest humbly offered them and Adam put them on. Messengers were sent out to reassemble the congregation and the pig was led away. During the quarter of an hour that followed, those who remained in the barn stole covert glances in Adam’s direction and were evidently too filled with awe to dare address him. He maintained an aloof of silence, his stomach rising at the thought of having to slaughter the pig; but he feared that if he failed to go through with it they might decide that he was an impostor, which could yet cost him his life. His limbs were aching, he felt very tired and would have given a lot to sit down. But he decided that, as he was supoosed to be a god, he must show no sign of weakness.
At last the men who had left the barn returned. The priest, now again in his clerical garb, made a deep obeisance and said, ‘Exalted One, I pray you to precede me.’
Leaving the bar, Adam led the way up the grass-covered rear slope of the pyramid. As he appeared on the top, there came a low murmur from the congregation down below, then a hushed silence. The priest addressed the people, but spoke only a few sentences, his harsh voice now betraying his agitation. Again there came the murmur as the people went down on their knees, then lowered their faces to the ground.
From their midst emerged four men who had remained upright. Each holding a leg of the pig, they lugged it up the steps of the pyramid, lifted it on to the altar table and held it there on its back. With a bow, the priest handed Adam the sacrificial knife.
He was already feeling nausea from the smell of the blood of the pigs that had been slaughtered there half an hour earlier. For a moment he shut his eyes and swallowed hard. With a great effort he pulled himself together and stepped forward.
As he raised the knife he was terribly tempted to plunge it hard-into the breast of the pig, so as to put it swiftly out of its agony; but he knew that to be the one thing he must not do. Exerting all his will to make his arm obey him, he stuck the knife into the pig’s belly, and drew it upward. The blade was as sharp as a razor, so the skin and flesh parted easily.
The minutes that followed exceeded the horror of any nightmare he had ever experienced. The animal squealed and squealed, on a high-pitched note that resembled the screams of a human in the utmost agony. Somehow, Adam forced himself to thrust his hands into the cavity he had made and, as the blood spurted out up to his elbows, fish around until he found the heart. Now obsessed with the thought of getting the awful business over as swiftly as possible, he tore at it frantically, lugged it out and held it aloft.
His gesture was followed by a thunderous roar of applause from the congregation. Crazy with excitement, they shouted themselves hoarse and were still doing so as Adam was solemnly escorted down the far side of the pyramid. Then he was led back to the barn and bowed to a seat at the head of the table. His urge to get away from the evil men who surrounded him was almost uncontrollable. But he fought it down because he felt sure that the diabolical ceremony would not be completed until they had feasted on the sacrificed pigs and that, to play out his role, he must participate.
By then the two first pigs had been roasted and the man with the long moustache came into the barn carrying an earthen platter with a portion of the cooked meat on it. The priest took the platter from him and, kneeling, presented it to Adam.
With renewed disgust he saw that he was expected to eat the pigs’ testicles. His stomach almost revolted, but he fought down his nausea. Then, with sudden inspiration, he leaned over, took the knife from the priest’s sash, cut off only a small portion of the meat and put it in his mouth. To his surprise, the taste was very pleasant. Having swallowed the piece of flesh, he stood up and said:
‘It is enough. I have many other places to visit, so I go now, and I desire no escort to accompany me back to the town.’
No-one attempted to stay him. They all went down on their knees. Swiftly he discarded the Indian robes which he had put on over his own clothes, and threw them on the table. Then, with a dignified step, he walked unhurriedly out of the barn.
The scene outside was like a witches’ sabbath, except that all the participants were male. They were crowded round the big bonfire over which the pig he had slain was still roasting. The other two pigs had been torn in pieces. Groups of men held lumps of the hot flesh in their bare hands as they gorged themselves on it, and gulped down from raised bottles draughts of tequila or the raw, local wine.
Within two minutes of leaving the barn Adam was back on the road. His relief at having regained his freedom had caused his tiredness to drop from him. His mind still filled with the revolting scenes he had witnessed, he hurried towards the town.
In less than twenty minutes he arrived there. He felt as though many hours must have passed since he had left it, so he was surprised to find a number of people still sitting about in the square; but it was only a little after midnight and, as his hands were dyed red with blood, he was thankful not to have to knock up someone to let him into his hotel.
Putting his hands into his trouser pockets, he went straight up to his room and scrubbed them again and again until he had got the last trace of dried blood from under his fingernails. By then reaction had set in and he again felt so exhausted that he could not raise the energy even to ring for a drink or have a bath. Pulling off his clothes, he flopped into bed and, five minutes later, was sound asleep.
When he awoke he could hardly believe that he had not had a ghastly nightmare; but there were bloodstains on the shoes beside his bed and, as the ceremonial robe had been much too short for him, also on the lower part of the legs of his trousers. Realising that he really had been through that seemingly incredible experience, he fervently thanked God that he was still alive.
As he sat up in bed, he gave an ‘ouch’ of pain and his body began to ache all over. That made him wish that he could stay in
bed all day to recover from his beating up, but he had already decided to get away from San Luis Caliente as soon as he possibly could, in case the evil priest came round and sought to involve him in further horrors.
The mirror in the bathroom down the passage showed his body to be black and blue, and one of his ribs pained him badly, but, in view of the ferocity of the attack on him, he considered that he had got off lightly. Bathed, shaved, dressed in clean clothes and after a hurried breakfast, he felt somewhat better. By nine o’clock he was on his way down to Taxco.
It was again a Sunday and, on arriving at the famous silver town, he found the shops that sell beautiful silver-work shut. He was not sorry about that, as he felt like anything but going sightseeing. On the contrary, he was a little concerned about his rib; so, after he had lunched, he went to bed and sent for a doctor. The doctor told him that his rib was only strained or, at the worst, slightly cracked, so it was nothing to worry about, and advised him to spend the rest of the day in bed. He charged the equivalent of three pounds for his visit, which Adam thought excessive, but he gladly took the advice.
During his trip Adam had spent most of his waking hours talking to scores of different people. That had helped to keep his mind off Chela, but it could not prevent him from thinking about her during his drives in the car from town to town, when he woke each morning and before he went to sleep every night.
Those two nights they had spent together at Oaxaca had been a truly wonderful experience for him. In his mind’s eye he could still visualise her lovely, laughing face and faultless body. Without effort he could recapture the rich tones of her voice and the satin texture of her skin. Added to all this, there had been the perfect ease with which they could communicate their inmost thoughts to each other, or just remain silent side by side in absolute contentment. He felt certain that in this life he would never meet another woman to compare with her. Yet she seemed horrifyingly unpredictable and, after one lightly-spoken sentence deliberately calculated to deceive him, had left him flat.
Unholy Crusade Page 19