A mystery set in Mayan country. |
Our days begin with trouble here Our life is but a span, And cruel death is always near So frail a thing is man. The New England Primer Prologue The rainforest was damp from the afternoon rain and the undergrowth carried a fresh, musky scent. Deep in the interior, the hunter sat quietly, staring through the vegetation, watching the two men scurrying in an out of the hillside. The birds were agitated at the interference, but both the men and the hunter ignored them. The hunter watched each entrance and exit the men made, observing what they were carrying from their nest. They had been working for over an hour, but time was of no importance to the hunter. He didn't wear timepiece. He knew how to estimate the ebb and flow of the time from the sun - and he was in no hurry. He was the exception that proved the rule that patience was never found in men. Anyone looking in his direction would only see a blending of green, silent and unmoving. The two men, on the other hand, were scurrying. They wanted to retrieve their treasure in time to start their journey home before dark. They had stumbled upon their find some weeks earlier and, rather than removing the objects, they had stored them in this cave until they could find a buyer. It was not always easy to find someone to market stolen goods and sometimes it was dangerous, especially for young newcomers to the art of poaching. Instead of wearing the traditional traje of the area, they wore Western garb, probably because factory-made clothing was practical and much cheaper than the traditional clothing. Tourists in the region had caused the price of traditional clothing to explode. Those who bartered the colored cloths charged prices beyond the wages of ordinary workers. It was a good business. The indigenous weavers, who worked for a pittance, guaranteed the owners huge profits. Foreign jeans and shirts sold for much less. But it took a surplus of money to get into the cloth business and the young men were poor. By selling items that cost them nothing, they hoped create their own wealth. Real artifacts could bring extremely high prices, especially if they were authentic Mayan relics. Both poachers were from the local village. They had discovered this hidden site and, like most poachers, kept the information to themselves. They were collecting the artifacts to sell to one of the many traffickers, who made their living exporting the culture of the land. Poaching was rampant in Guatemala and a variety of products put money into poacher's pockets: birds, fir trees, sharks, crocodiles, sea turtles, cultural artifacts, even fish. Although new at this, they hoped to establish themselves with this find. With each exit, they placed their treasures on a serape lying outside the cave entrance. Most of the items were small jade pieces, but there was one larger item – a stone box and lid. The box, a considerably larger piece, was covered with carvings and written glyphs. It was obviously Mayan. They had no idea what it was worth, but they hoped it would bring many quetzales. After studying the box, they set it aside and pushed the smaller jade pieces into the center of the serape. They folded the cloth in such a fashion that it formed a carrying case for the treasure. As they lifted the blanket, the hunter decided it was time. Two rapid shots rang out and men and treasure dropped to the ground. Before their life fluids drained from their wounds, the hunter approached, turned one of the bodies over and retrieved a package that had been trapped beneath the body. It was the box and its lid. He carefully placed them into a leather bag. He picked up handfuls of jade and added them to the bag. Grabbing the strap, he slung the bag over his shoulder and, taking one last look around, turned and regressed the way he had come. Within minutes the howler monkeys and macaws were silent again, ignoring the two lifeless forms lying on the ground. The hunter faded into the underbrush, leaving the creatures of the rainforest to bury the dead. |