I looked from Sancho to Mateo.
"What do you mean, he never came back? Is there another way out?"
Sancho shook his head no.
"Then he is still down there," I said.
"Sí, that is the treachery. He liked my prize so much, he decided to stay below and hug it. Some of the viceroy's soldados came along,..."
"You sealed him in and fled to avoid discovery."
Sancho grinned.
"How long ago?" I asked.
Sancho pretended to make a great effort at counting. "Thirty days."
It was my turn to nod and smile. "I see, I see."
Mother of God, I was in the hands of a madman.
"I met my good friend Mateo at the fair and enlisted his assistance because he can handle black powder. And he spotted you. We need someone slender enough to wiggle in the passageway and limber because there are sharp corners. The rest," Sancho raised both his hands in a gesture of finality, "you know."
The rest was that they were going to blow a hole into the passageway and send me in. If I managed to get out with the treasure, I would have my throat cut as my share of the reward. If Sancho was interrupted again by the viceroy's soldiers, I would be sealed inside to die. Worse, I feared for the Healer. Once Sancho got what he wanted, he would not leave the old man to be a witness. And the Healer was too old and slow to escape. Otherwise I would just have ran into the forest.
Sancho read my thoughts. "No, Chico, don't concern yourself with what has happened in the past. There will be enough gold for all of us. When you get your share, you will be able to buy your own hacienda."
Perhaps if I had had less of an education on the streets of Veracruz listening to people who lie every time their lips moved, I might have believed him. But I was raised shoulder to shoulder with léperos who would try to lie their way into heaven. And Sancho was the devil himself.
"I will crawl in your hole and bring out the treasure on one condition: my father leaves, now."
Sancho grabbed me by the throat and jerked me to him, putting his dagger to my gut. "There are no conditions. I will spill your guts in the dirt right now if you try to cross me."
"Cut me," I taunted, with more courage than I felt, "and you will never see your treasure."
"Let him alone, Sancho." Mateo spoke quietly. But he was never quiet unless he was deadly serious. I felt Sancho tense in anger, the point of his blade cutting into my side.
"We need him. We don't need his father. The old man's in the way."
"If I let him go, he'll inform the authorities."
"While we have his son? Not likely. Besides, the boy has courage; and he's not stupid. He doesn't believe you plan to reward him for his efforts."
Sancho released his hold. I stepped back as he looked up to the sky for heavenly confirmation of his honesty and sincerity. "Upon my sainted mother's grave, my martyr father's, too, I swear that I will reward you if you bring out the gold mask."
Eh, should I believe this hombre? It to easy to tell when he is lying. It happens every time he moves his lips.
"You'll get what you have coming," Mateo said. "Trust me."
I knelt beside the Healer. He continued looking straight ahead, smoking his pipe.
"You have to leave. Now." I wanted him gone before Sancho changed his mind. "Go to Oaxaca and wait for me. I'll be there in a couple of days."
"Why do we not go together?"
"Because I have to do something here, for the spur wearers."
He shook his head. "We travel together. You are my helper. My old eyes need you to show the way. I will wait here until you have finished your work."
Your old eyes are as sharp as an eagle's and your mind is sharper than a serpent's tooth, I thought.
"You cannot trust that Spaniard," he said, "the one with the fish eyes. If he is going to harm you, I will cast a spell on him. The dagger he points at you will come back to his own heart."
"Aztec magic doesn't work on the spur wearers," I said quietly. "That's why they were able to destroy our temples and enslave our people."
Before he could speak more objections, I made a plea to him that I knew he would grant. "You have been my father and I love you as one. What I ask is that you honor that love by granting me this favor. Go to Oaxaca and wait for me. If you do not, you will be putting my life in danger."
He would not leave to protect himself, but he would to shield me.
I escorted the Healer with his donkey and dog to the trail to Oaxaca. I waited until he had disappeared down the trail before I returned to the campsite. I wanted to make sure that neither of the mestizos followed him. I considered escaping but knew too well Sancho would go after the Healer if I did. Only eighteen years on this earth, but I was ancient in terms of the treachery of men.
Sancho, Mateo, and the mestizos were huddled together when I came back.
"Wait for us over there," Sancho said.
I squatted and watched them, while I pretended to be preoccupied scratching an Aztec picture word in the dirt. As Sancho talked, Mateo's gaze occasionally went to the temple. I heard Sancho say that it didn't matter if it was day or night, but Mateo said it would take all night to prepare.
"Then I shall enjoy one of the putas camped down the hill," Sancho said.
The men scattered and Sancho called me to him. "We will need your services in the morning, Chico. Can I trust you not to run away tonight?"
"Señor, you can trust me as you trust your own sainted mother," I assured him, already planning my escape while the fool slept.
A rope looped over me and was jerked tight. One of the mestizos was on the other end of the rope.
Sancho shook his head with mock sadness. "Chico, my mother was a witch full of devious tricks, and that is the best I could say about her."
Sancho tied my hands and feet. His mestizos carried me into his tent and dumped me on the ground. I lay on the ground for a couple of hours, trying to work my joints loose to slip out of the ropes, but Sancho had tied me securely.
He came into the tent at dusk.
"I have arranged for one of the putas to visit me, but I am tired tonight. I want to play with her, but not stick my pene into her. Comprende?"
I nodded. But I did not have the faintest idea what he was talking about. If he was too tired, why pay a whore for favors?
"If your pene will not turn into a garrancha, there is a potion I can get for you that will give it power."
He kicked me—hard. Several more times. Eh, telling a wearer of spurs that his pene is not as long and hard as a sword was an unusual—and ill-timed—moment of honesty on my part.
"I am going to explain what you are to do when I come back with the woman. I will explain only once. Then I will untie you and leave the tent. If you attempt to run away, not only will my mestizos cut off your head, but I will track down the old man and cut off his. Listen carefully for your duties with the woman. If you fail my instructions, I will cut off your pene."
Ojalá! God grant that someday this ugly ox feel my spurs!
Sancho had instructed me to be hiding under a blanket near the bed when he returned with the woman. They came with much laugher and singing, both very drunk. Sancho brought her into the tent, the two of them staggering. It was dark in the tent, a single candle glowed, barely breaking the darkness, but even in the dim I could see that she was not a young puta, but one old enough to be my mother. I took her to be mestizo rather than a full-blooded indio. The moment he had her inside, he began undressing her. Giggling, she tried to undress him, but he knocked away her hands. He stripped her naked and kissed and touched her in many places. He did not appear tired to me. I hoped that the excitement had put some power in his pene, and he would not need me.