An Old Friend

Mendoza rode slowly through the jungle, Marina sitting behind him. Three days before they had left camp to search the territory which lay before the army for a city or village. Marina was relying on her memory to guide them to an inhabited area where they could trade for supplies for the army.

Marina paused for a moment considering their present location. "I believe we should bare more to the right."

Mendoza looked in that direction and sighed. "If it weren't for my knowledge of navigation, I would be completely lost. I am amazed you can find any of this familiar."

Marina smiled and said, "There are other ways to find your way. The shape of the land, the direction of the rivers, even the type of plants in an area can tell you where you are."

Mendoza nodded, chuckling. "I think plants may be of great help to us now." Marina shot him a quizzical look as he dismounted and handed her the reins of the horse. She then nodded in understanding as he jumped up to grab the lowest branch of a very tall tree and swung into the foliage. The navigator climbed higher and higher until the branches could only just support his weight and he was above the canopy.

Mendoza looked out across a vast, dense forest. Mendoza started with excitement when he looked to the east. There in the distance he could see a faint white plume of smoke. It could not be the army of Cortez for they would have been farther north. It could only be a village or native camp. The young navigator quickly made his way back down to Marina.

"I think our luck has finally changed, my lady," Mendoza said jovially. He jumped onto the horse and turned its head to the east.

Hours passed as they struggled through the dense underbrush trying to the place where Mendoza had seen the smoke. When they finally drew near the area, Mendoza dismounted and spoke to his companion. "Marina, I'm going to scout around and see what we are dealing with. I don't want to cause a panic and have these people abandon their homes. We have to get provisions and information from them. Stay here with the horse, I shouldn't be long." Mendoza started to turn away but thought of one last point. "If anything goes wrong and I don't come back," he told the beautiful woman, " do you think you would be able to find your way back to the army?"

Marina's gaze met his and she stated, "Yes, I simply would follow our course back to the northwest." He held her gaze a moment longer then nodded and set out towards the hoped for encampment.

*****

A half an hour passed before Mendoza heard the sound of voices. He quickly hid in the think underbrush and watched as two young native girls walked by, each carrying a large water jug on their heads. After they had passed, the navigator stepped out of his hiding place and moved to where the girls had been. There he found a small path. Considering it unwise to stay directly on the trail, he moved into the underbrush where he could quickly disappear if the need arose yet still could follow the course of the winding path.

In this way, he quickly came to a clearing in which stood a small temple and several houses. Mendoza suppressed a sigh. The village was small, not very wealthy, and certainly wouldn't be of much help to a city-sized army. Still, a guide would be useful. But would it be better to seek help now or to return with a few soldiers to aid in negotiations.

Before he could decide, Mendoza felt something hard, cold, and very sharp press into his back. Apparently the choice has been made for me, he thought wryly.

"Stand up, Spaniard!" a voice said harshly.

The navigator slowly spread his hands so his captor could see that he was unarmed and stood. Someone grabbed his hands and he was quickly bound. He was marched into the village where people who saw him stopped what they were doing in alarm. Mendoza was taken in a small house next to the temple and was searched. His sword and pistol had already been taken but his captors now discovered his most prized possession, the centerpiece of a strange medallion. The native guards looked at the golden disk in surprise and spoke anxiously amongst themselves while they through looks of wonder and fear at their prisoner. The disk was dropped at the navigator's feet and two of his guards left quickly, leaving a single warrior to watch the Spaniard struggle to reclaim the small piece of gold.

Once he had gasped the disk in his hands, Mendoza decided to attempt to talk to his guard. "I mean your people no harm," he began. "I am in need of your people's assistance. I am looking for a guide or a map that will lead me and my company to a city where we can trade for provisions."

"And why would we want to help Spaniards," a voice asked from the door. "Your people do not belong here and your presence can only lead to the ruin of my people."

Mendoza looked to the speaker but his reply froze in his throat when he saw the face of his accuser. "José? Yaxche!"

"I never thought I would see you again, Mendoza. And I am astounded that you still serve Cortez."

"I had little choice in the matter, Yaxche. Cortez is not one to take no for an answer. But I have not served him for the last five years and only do so now because of singular circumstances. How is it that you are here?" the navigator asked in amazement.

"I was able to return home shortly after Cortez's expedition set sail for the mainland. But I returned home from my imprisonment on Cuba to find my country in chaos. I managed to find my family and in order to avoid the fate of Tenochtitlan, I convinced the village elders to leave our homes and seek a new place to live. We traveled for months and during the journey we heard news of the tragedy taking place in the valley of Mexico from the refugees who joined our band. When we arrived here, we felt we had escaped the new lords of Mexico City, but now the Conquistador has found our refuge and we will have to move again." The former slave sighed deeply and said in a tired, dull voice, "I wonder how long we will be able to flee before there is nowhere left to go."

"Perhaps there is a way to delay that fate," Mendoza said carefully.

"What do you mean?" Yaxche asked suspiciously.

"Simply this," Mendoza said leaning forward, "Cortez has no interest in this land. His expedition has found only disaster instead of the City of Gold he had hoped to discover. Now he only wants to expedite his arrival at the settlement of Triunfo de la Cruz in the lands to the south, put down the rebellion of Cristóbal de Olid, and return to Mexico City. And so I, as his navigator, have been searching for a guide that can lead us to a city or village where we can re-supply and hurry on our way. Help us and no harm will come to your people, I promise you."

Yaxche considered the navigator's words. "I cannot make this decision myself. I must consult the village elders and learn what they would advise."

"Don't be too long discussing this, Yaxche," Mendoza cautioned. "I did not find this place alone and my companion will have gone back to Cortez by now and reported what we have found."

Yaxche's eyes were grave as he nodded in understanding. He spoke quietly to the guard a moment then left quickly. The young navigator sighed gratefully when the guard cut his bonds. Yet, he still remained watchful. Apparently Yaxche's trust in me only goes so far, Mendoza thought somewhat amused. He returned the golden disk to a pouch on his belt and settled himself more comfortably on the floor to wait while his fate was decided.

*****

The night was growing old yet Mendoza could not sleep. It had been hours since he had spoken with Yaxche and still he had heard nothing. His guard had been relieved by another and the navigator was provided with a small meal yet no word of a decision had come. Mendoza did not believe this delay was a good sign.

The shades of night were disappearing when the door of the hut creaked open and Mendoza looked up to see his former ally standing before him.

"Rise Mendoza," he said ominously.

The navigator stood up cautiously trying to stretch his tired limbs to prepare them for action. Two guards led him out of his prison into the village plaza where he could see what could only be every person in the village gathered there.

This doesn't look good, Mendoza thought grimly. Thinking it better to know the worst, he said, "So old friend, is this to be my last sunrise?"

Yaxche's lip twisted in a sardonic smile. "No, I don't believe this is the last dawn you will see although...it may be mine."

Mendoza looked at the man next to him in surprise but did not have the chance to ask what he meant. Yaxche stopped before a group of elderly men one of whom stepped forward to embrace him. "Go in peace and return to us safely."

The elder stepped back as a woman with a young girl at her side walked out of the crowd of villagers. As Mendoza's pistol and sword were returned to him, she and Yaxche embraced as tears spilled down her face. He spoke quietly to her and she nodded. The girl did her best to bravely hold back her own tears as Yaxche, who must be her father, said goodbye to her as well. With a last, long look at his family, his neighbors, and his home, Yaxche turned away and led Mendoza into the jungle.

"Why were you chosen to guide me," Mendoza asked after they had been walking for many hours.

"Our prior meeting was taken as a sign by the elders that we are connected by the Gods. The sun piece you carry made a deep impression on them and the village priest. They believe you are a messenger from the Gods."

"And what do you believe?" Mendoza asked incredulously.

"I believe in protecting my family. If that means I must guide you and Cortez to a city, I will do what I must."

*****

A day and a half later, Mendoza and Yaxche were surrounded by a group of Spanish soldiers. Two horses emerged into the circle and Yaxche clenched his fists as Cortez dismounted and examined the navigator and the former slave. Marina sat on the second horse and gave the navigator a slight nod in greeting.

The conquistador laughed. "Simply incredible, Mendoza. You have a gift for finding the unexpected. I believe this slave is wanted for murder in Cuba but justice can be dispensed here as well as here." His face turned serious and he said to the captain of the soldiers. "Take this slave back to camp and make sure he cannot slip away."

As he was led past him, Mendoza said, "Don't worry, Yaxche. I will take care of everything."

Yaxche glanced at the navigator and responded, "And why would I worry about this," as he was led away at gunpoint.

"Your Excellency," Mendoza protested, "it would be a mistake to execute this man. He has agreed to lead us to Izancanac."

"Izancanac?!" Marina gasped, her eyes wide with surprise.

Cortez turned to her and asked, "You know of this place?"

"Yes," Marina replied, quickly regaining control of her voice. "It is the capital of the province of Acalan where we are now," she said simply with no explanation of what had startled her.

"This city is our best chance to re-supply and so be able to reach Triunfo de la Cruz quickly," Mendoza stated.

"I was under the impression that it was your job to guide us, Mendoza," Cortez responded wryly.

Mendoza stood up straighter and responded irritably, "Sir, I will lead you to Triunfo de la Cruz but how many of your men will be alive when we get there is something I cannot control. With Yaxche as our guide, we have a better chance to survive this expedition."

"I see," Cortez said coolly. "I will consider what you have said."

Mendoza watched the conquistador mount his horse and then led the way back to camp.

Yaxche's life hangs in the balance as Mendoza tries to convince Cortez that the former slave is of use to him. What awaits the expedition in Izancanac? Why did Marina react so strongly to the name of this city? Find out in Chapter 8: Marina's Homecoming.