by David Wood
“The Antilles,” he chimed in, to show that he was paying attention.
“Correct. The story goes that they fled to the New World and established the seven cities, where they hid gold, gems, and religious articles to keep them safe from the Moors.”
At the mention of religious articles, Maddock bolted upright. “Oh no. No friggin’ way!” He struck the table with his fist so hard that both their beers tipped over. Jade managed to catch hers, but his hit the table, spewing its foamy contents everywhere.
“Nice,” Jade deadpanned. “Are you always this erratic? What did I say, anyway?” Her smooth features were tense with concern.
“Nothing,” he muttered. “I just had a bad experience recently and...” What could he tell her that she would actually believe? “It’s not important.” Before she could reply, he hurried to the galley to retrieve some paper towels. Returning, he sopped up the mess as Jade looked on with an expression somewhere between amused and offended.
When the spill was cleaned up, she nodded like an officer at inspection time and inclined her head toward the bow. “How about we move back there and watch the sun set?” Maddock liked that idea just fine but was disappointed when, once they were seated, she resumed her story.
“The Antillean islands failed to produce the great quantities of gold and silver the Spaniards were expecting, so they set their sights on the continent and its purported riches. As soon as Cortes and his men finished conquering the Aztec Empire in the early 1520s, they set out to find these legendary Seven Cities of Gold. The expedition took them as far as the Texas panhandle, but, needless to say, they found no sign of Cibola.
“And then, in 1528 a Spaniard named Cabeza de Vaca was shipwrecked on the Texas Gulf Coast. He wandered through Texas and into northern Mexico before his rescue in 1536. He told of fantastic treasures he had seen in villages to the north, “with many people and very big houses.” And thus, what is now New Mexico became targeted as the mythical Cibola.
“Viceroy Antonio de Mendoza soon became intrigued by the fantastic riches rumored to exist in the Seven Golden Cities of Cibola beyond New Spain’s northern frontier. In 1539, he sent an expedition led by Estevanico, a black slave who had been shipwrecked with Cabeza de Vaca, and Fray Marcos de Niza to verify de Vaca’s reports. Estevanico did not return. It is reported that he died in western New Mexico at Háwikuh, one of the Zuñi pueblos.”
“I notice you emphasize ‘reported’ that he died,” Maddock observed. “You don’t think so?”
“Be patient, I’m getting to that,” she reproved, smiling. She was warming to her tale and obviously thought he was as well. And he was, despite his better judgment. “Get yourself another Dos Equis and shut up. Get me one too.”
He produced the drinks in short order and settled back in to hear the rest of the story.
“Fray Marcos returned to New Spain, declaring he had seen golden cities, the smallest of which was bigger than Mexico City. These strange people were said to possess in great quantities domestic utensils and ornaments made of gold and silver, and to be proficient in many of the arts of the Europeans.”
“I think I know how this story ends,” Maddock said, recalling a bit of history. “Coronado took a stab at it and failed miserably. Seems like these seven golden cities were just mud villages and such. Nothing but a pipe dream.”
“Right. He spent almost two years searching for the seven cities, but finally concluded that they were a myth. His expedition was branded a failure.” She bit her lip and stared out at the water.
“This Fray Marcos guy, why do you think he lied? Didn’t want to admit to having failed? Maybe he didn’t want his friend to have died in vain?”
Jade turned and met his gaze with wide-eyed seriousness. “The kindest historians think that, from a distance, he saw the sunset on adobe walls containing bits of silica and believed he was looking at glimmers of a city of gold.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Maddock protested. “Why would he see a city of gold from a distance, and never go close enough to get a good look? And what about all the details he provided? How would he know those things if he observed from afar?”
“You’re right,” she said. She took a sip of her beer, then rubbed the bottle across her forehead. Maddock watched the cool beads of condensation trickle down her tanned skin. Illumined in the setting sun, they put him in the mind of gold. “Marcos did find Cibola, and he concocted his story to protect the truth.” She took another drink, waiting for his reply.
“Come on, now. Don’t leave me hanging,” he said. “You’ve got to fill in the blanks.”
She reached into her small black bag and withdrew a plastic folder, opened the catch, and produced a small stack of paper-clipped sheets. “I’ll hit the high points, so I don’t bore you,” she said, smiling mischievously. “Fray Marcos’s journal turned up in a collection in Spain. I’ve scanned the pertinent pages. Translations are on the back.” She held them out to him.
Maddock felt strangely detached as he took them. His fingers were numb, and his mind was muddled, and not because of the beer. “Another journal,” he muttered. Jade cocked her head and frowned, but said nothing. “Unbelievable.” He didn’t feel like elaborating.
“Uh huh,” Jade said. “He provides precious few details, but he makes it plain that he found something fantastic. He is also very clear that the story he told Mendoza was not only a fabrication, but a tale carefully crafted to lead them astray.” She took a deep breath and held it, regarding him as if taking his measure. “I don’t know why, but I feel I can trust you.” Maddock nodded and waited for her to continue.
“The journal indicates that Marcos wanted to hide Cibola from Mendoza, Coronado, and the rest, but he didn’t want to hide it from the world forever. I believe he left a clue in the bottom of a well.” She paused, either for effect or to see if he had any response. “I found that well just before you rescued me. The top caved in long ago. No one even knew it was there. The bottom portion is intact.” She leaned back, picked up her drink, and peered at him with an intense stare as she sipped her beer.
Maddock made a show of examining the papers, all the while turning things over in his mind. He could tell himself that he didn’t want to get involved in another caper like he had before, but the truth was his heart was racing from sheer excitement. He had chosen his particular field not only because he loved the sea, but because he loved the mystery, the search, and discovery. This was right up his alley. And then, of course, there was Jade. He glanced up, his eyes meeting hers long enough to register the crinkled brow and tiny smile. She knew she had him.
“So, what exactly do you want me to do?”
Chapter 3
The water was colder than he remembered, and the tunnel darker. He supposed adrenaline had drawn his thoughts away from such things when he was coming after Jade. Now he had time to examine his surroundings, all of which reminded him how much he hated cave diving. Too many skilled divers had met their ends in caves just like this one. Dark, twisting, precarious arteries of peril, all of them. He couldn’t wait to get out of here and make up for the sleep he missed the night before.
The two of them had stayed up late, planning the dive. By the time they were finished, Matt and Corey had long returned to the ship and called it a night. He had suggested that Jade stay the night, but she laughed and gave him a chaste hug before heading back to shore. Thoughts of her blended with images of gold and treasure until he couldn’t say which was the most responsible for keeping him awake.
He snapped out of his reverie when the narrow channel opened into a wide chamber. They were in the well. He looked up, allowing the beam of his headlamp to play across the ceiling. A thick snarl of ancient roots held up massive chunks of stone, bound together by mud and clay that had seeped down into the collapsed well shaft. The whole thing had a precarious feel to it. He couldn’t wait to finish up and get out of there. Jade drifted up alongside him and motioned toward the floor as if to say “get on with it
.” He needed no convincing.
Reaching into the small dive bag strapped to his waist, he fished out his metal detector. About three times the size of a cell phone, the rectangular instrument with its fat red buttons and large digital display reminded him of the hand-held football game he had gotten for his fourteenth birthday. The ‘players’ were little red dashes, and it emitted an annoying tweet whenever you scored. His parents had regretted buying it for him by the end of the first day. He grinned at the memory as he punched the buttons and waited for the instrument to boot up. It was still hard to think about Mom and Dad, but it didn’t hurt the way it once had.
The screen was black, with green indicator bars up each side. He drifted to the downstream side of the well, chose what passed for a corner, and began his search. The little detector could penetrate about three feet in ideal conditions, and he was banking on the bottom of the well being silt and mud. He hoped that whatever they were looking for was made of metal. If it wasn’t…. well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they had to excavate the entire floor, but it was worth giving the unit a shot. Besides, it was an expensive toy, and he wanted to play with it. Better than a power tool any day.
Jade shone a high-powered dive light on the floor in front of him, leading the way as he crisscrossed the well bottom. Thankfully there were few obstructions, the gentle current having kept the floor swept clean over the centuries. He held the detector a half-meter off the bottom, sweeping it slowly back-and-forth, feeling like a hotel maid cleaning the floor.
The first hit came almost immediately, small and faint. He stopped and swept the area again. He felt certain that it wouldn’t amount to anything, but he indicated the location to Jade, who swam over to meet him. She produced a long, thin digging tool and probed the area, careful not to stir up more dirt than necessary. The steady flow of the underground stream should keep the silt down, but it did not hurt to take care. In short order, she dug free a small, dark object about the breadth of his thumbnail. Perhaps a button or a coin, but they wouldn’t know until they took it up top and cleaned it. Jade shrugged and deposited the item in her own dive bag.
The search continued with few results. They turned up a couple more unremarkable chunks of some metal or other, but nothing more. Maddock found himself growing impatient when suddenly his screen went supernova. The indicators on either side shot up, the bars hovering near the top. The display was a solid green square. He moved it back and forth over the spot, which was almost in the very center, trying to get a feel for the size of the object. He quickly determined that it was no larger than a meter square and no smaller than half that size. He switched the detector off and put it away. He would finish his sweep after they had exhumed whatever this was, but he had a good feeling that this was what they were looking for.
He withdrew his digging tool, a ten-inch titanium rod with a blunted, triangular tip and a six-inch rubber grip on the other end, and drew an imaginary circle around the target area. Jade nodded and began working on one side while he took the other. Firmly, but with great care, he probed the perimeter of the target area. Given the intensity of the signal, he hoped it was not buried too deep. The well bottom, mostly silt and clay, gave way easily as he pushed the rod in up to the handle again and again until finally he met with resistance. A glance told him that it was about seven inches down. He withdrew the tool and tried a spot six inches closer to the area where Jade was working. Again he struck something solid at a depth of seven inches. He tapped Jade on the shoulder, and indicated the area, giving her a thumbs-up, which she returned with enthusiasm. Together, they began removing a half-millennium of dirt, clay, and rock. A cloud of fine particles enveloped them, but the lazy current carried it away though not quite fast enough to keep pace with their digging.
When they had cleared a hand 's width channel about two feet in length, he was finally able to see what they were excavating. It was smooth and dark with a gently-angled edge. The exposed surface was slightly convex. Encouraged, Maddock produced a larger digging tool, a small shovel with a wide blade that Bones liked to call his “beach toy”, and began scooping away the soil in large chunks. Jade tapped her wrist, and he consulted his dive watch. They had been down longer than he had thought. They had five minutes to get this thing out of the ground and start their return with a reasonable amount of time to spare. After Jade’s near-disaster, he wasn’t willing to take chances. They each carried a pony tank, but he would prefer to avoid using them altogether.
They worked fast, and soon had all but a thin layer of dirt and clay cleared from what he no longer thought of as an object, but an artifact. He swept the dirt away until his gloved fingertips touched the surface. It was hard and smooth with regular rows of raised bumps and lines. His fingers searched for the edge and found it, squared off and a half-inch thick. Increasingly confident in the solidity and durability of the artifact, he worked the edge of his shovel around the sides, clearing away the debris while Jade brushed the surface clean.
When the object was fully exposed, they paused, letting the silt drift away. As the water cleared, the object seemed to rise up toward them. It was a breastplate though its thickness and apparent weight made it obvious to Maddock that no man had ever worn it. Time and the elements had turned it almost black, but in the glow of the dive lamps he could discern raised markings. His heart pounded with eager anticipation as the two of them grasped it by opposite edges and pulled.
Nothing.
They tried again, but it would not budge. He checked his dive watch and found that they had less than two minutes. Retrieving his small digging tool, he worked it under one edge, and tried to pry it up, but to no effect. Jade did the same on her side. He reminded himself that, if need be, they could come back with better tools and fresh tanks. After five hundred years, the thing wasn’t going anywhere soon, but he was stubborn enough to not want to leave it for even a short while. He managed to get the titanium blade underneath the breastplate, and levered it back and forth, working it along the edge. Soon he had enough leverage to try and pry it up from the bottom. Hoping that it was as sturdy as he reckoned, he braced his feet on the floor and lifted. The breastplate budged a millimeter, then two, and then it broke free with a massive upsurge of dirt and clay.
Knowing they were on borrowed time, Maddock motioned for Jade to help him with the breastplate, which was sitting on its edge on the well floor. She took hold of it, while he opened his mesh bag, pulled out two sturdy straps, and secured them around the breastplate. Where they crossed in the middle, he hooked a quick-connect, then snapped that onto a thick, folded object. Jade tilted her head questioningly. He unsnapped his pony tank from his belt and secured it to a valve. Jade nodded and gave him a “thumbs-up” as the object grew into a torpedo-shaped bladder with two handles on the top. He took hold of the bladder and lifted, the added buoyancy making it an easy burden. He was about to lead the way out when Jade pointed at his feet.
He looked down to where they had pulled up the breastplate. The silt had drifted away to reveal a dark circle embedded in the floor. A sigil, a cross inside a clover, was engraved on it. Jade dove down and began trying to work it free.
It looks like a seal, Maddock thought. A cold certainty swept over him, and he shook his head. He wanted to shout, for all the good it would do. He watched as if in slow motion as Jade gave a twist, and the edge of the seal crumbled. Cracks appeared on the surface, and then it imploded. Knowing she had screwed up big-time, Jade turned and headed for a tunnel leading out, with Maddock right behind her. Giant bubbles burst forth, and then a muffled sucking sound filled the watery cavern. The gentle current was now a daunting foe, and he struggled to make headway, the breastplate dragging him down.
A chunk of rock bounced off his mask, knocking it askew and letting in a small trickle of water. The ceiling was coming down! Invisible hands pulled at him, seeking to draw him back into the well. He was in the shaft, but he was making little progress. His legs burned, and his aching lungs reminded him tha
t air would soon be in short supply. Letting go of the breastplate with his right hand, he grabbed for the side of the tunnel, searching for a handhold. His legs still doing double-time, his fingertips found a crack in the rock, and he pulled himself forward. He hoped Jade had made it out.
He suddenly felt himself being hauled forward, and he was dimly aware of a gloved hand clutching his shoulder. He kicked and paddled as Jade pulled him into a recessed area on the side of the tunnel. Thick vertical cracks ran down the wall. Still fighting the current, he shoved his free hand into one the cracks, made a fist and twisted until it was wedged tightly. Jade had done the same, and she wrapped her free arm around both him and the breastplate, helping him hold on.
The current raged, and Maddock’s legs were slowly pulled out from under him. He kicked furiously as he felt himself drawn inexorably toward the well and certain death. Jade still clutched him tightly, and he was glad to know she was still holding on as well. His shoulder screamed in agony, and he feared it would pop out of its socket, but he tensed his muscles and held on. Dirt and debris battered them as it was sucked down the tunnel and into the well.
And then his hand slipped.
It happened suddenly. One moment his fist was painfully wedged in the rock, the next instant he was pulled free, taking Jade with him.
A tremendous crash sounded in the darkness behind them, loud in the watery tunnel, and then they were hurled back up the channel, away from the well. He careened into one wall, then another. He tumbled forward, the breastplate banging painfully against his shin. He was flipped upside down, and he crashed into a wall of stone, his breath leaving him along with his mouthpiece, and he slid to the bottom amidst a shower of dirt and rock.
Woozy, he tried to get a handle on his wits. He found his mouthpiece, forced it between his teeth, and tried to breathe, but his lungs were constricted from the blow. Schooling himself to calmness, he relaxed. It was no easy task to will himself to be at ease underwater in the dark, but soon he was able to take a sip of air. A few more tentative gasps and he was breathing again. He did not need to look at his dive watch to know he would soon need his reserve tank. He felt for it at his hip and was not completely surprised to find it gone.
