Miranda rolled her eyes. “I’ll ride with my dad.”
Maddock shook his head and circled around to take the seat beside Bones, but held his tongue until they were loaded up — three to each cart, Angel riding with the two of them — and rolling at a brisk walking pace down the broad grassy path to the ruins.
“Dude, you’re embarrassing yourself,” he said, speaking in a low voice, even though there was little chance of being overheard by the occupants of the first cart.
“When has that ever stopped me?” Bones retorted with a grin. “Besides, the day I need your advice about women is the day I turn in mi cojones.”
“You’ve definitely got a lot more experience with what not to do. But believe me, you’re not her type.”
“What makes you say that?” Bones looked at him sidelong. “You think you’re her type? Careful. Little sister might not like that much.”
Angel leaned forward. “I think ‘little sister’ is Miranda Bell’s type.”
Maddock looked back at her. “So it wasn’t just my imagination?”
“Nope. It’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with it.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry, babe. You are my type. End of story.”
Bones reacted as if he’d received an electric shock. “You mean she’s into… ” He trailed off, eyes widening and lips curling in a lascivious grin as the movie started playing in his head, but after just a moment, his smile fell and his head snapped around to look at Angel. He shuddered and looked away. “Gah. Bleach. Now.”
He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead in silence for a moment, but then said. “Maybe she just hasn’t met the right guy, yet.”
Angel let out a snort of disgust.
Further discussion on the topic was mercifully cut short as the Chichén Itzá complex came into view.
Bell had not been exaggerating the impact of tourism. The wide grassy areas separating the monumental buildings were crowded with visitors taking selfies, and vendors hawking hats and jaguar masks or playing pan flutes for spare change. The latter seemed to recognize Griego and mostly kept their distance, but one or two were bold enough to approach Maddock, waving their wares and shouting, “Five dollars, gringo?”
“It’s like a frigging Renaissance faire,” Bones grumbled. “Mexican style.”
Maddock chuckled in agreement but, despite the obnoxious intrusion of commercialism, he could not help but think about the history of the place. The guidebooks he had read indicated that Chichén Itzá was one of the few Maya cities that had not collapsed at the end of the Classic period, but had been occupied from about 600 CE until the arrival of the Spaniards, nine centuries later.
The centerpiece of the site was, unquestionably, El Castillo—the Castle — which was the name the conquistadores had given to the seventy-nine-foot-tall pyramid Temple of Kukulkan. The pyramid was remarkable for reasons beyond the obvious. The staircases rising up the center of each side of the pyramid had exactly ninety-one steps — three hundred-sixty-four in total — which when combined with the platform at the top, meant a step for every day in the solar year. Additionally, the temple was oriented so that, on the equinoxes, the shadow from the northwest corner of the pyramid, cast on the north balustrade, gave the appearance of a snake wriggling down over the course of the afternoon, ending at the base where it met the head of Kukulkan, the feathered serpent god, just before sunset.
That was what the guidebooks said anyway. Maddock made a mental note to ask Griego if it was really true.
Their guide however turned south, away from El Castillo, and headed down a trail into the surrounding forest. For a few seconds, Maddock lost sight of the ruins, but then another ancient structure rose up directly ahead of them. The building looked a little like a pyramid that had been sliced off at the base; terraced stairways and steep sloping walls that rose to a broad platform, upon which had been built a cylindrical tower — unusual in in Maya architecture — topped with a crumbling dome.
Griego parked his cart directly in front of the building and got out. “This is El Caracol,” he said. “The Snail, so-called because of the spiral ramp inside the tower. We are in the Casa Colorada group here. This was the heart of Chichen during the Terminal Classic Maya period. There are older structures in the Osario, but they are less well preserved.”
“It looks kind of like the minaret of a mosque,” Angel murmured.
“Or an astronomical observatory,” Maddock said.
“Actually, you’re both right. Astronomy was a major part of the Maya religion, and this place was both a temple and a way for them to observe the heavens. The windows in the dome were aligned with various astronomical events, the movement of Venus at certain points in the year and so forth. There are window slits in the tower that only permit the entrance of light for a few seconds only on the equinoxes, which enabled the priests to maintain an accurate calendar system. And I think it also holds the answer to your question.”
He disconnected the rope barrier blocking their path and gestured for them to follow.
“I guess it’s good to know the right people,” Bones said, then lowered his voice so only Maddock could hear. “Do we trust this guy?”
“Bell seems to,” Maddock replied. “But that’s no reason not to stay on our toes. And somebody’s bound to notice us climbing around a restricted area.”
“Want me to stand here and look pissed off? That should keep people away.”
“If not, your stench will do the trick,” Angel said.
“Love you too, little sister.”
“Maybe just until we’re inside,” Maddock said. “No sense in getting separated.”
Maddock took Angel’s hand and together they fell into step behind the others who were now ascending the steps of El Caracol. Bell struggled to keep up with Griego, his wheezing giving way to an alarming coughing fit as they neared the doorway leading to the tower. After a minute or two of rest, he indicated that he was ready to continue, and followed Griego through the rectangular entrance. Maddock signaled for Bones to catch up, and then he and Angel headed inside as well.
Inside the passage spiraled gently up to a two-tier platform where they were able to look out across the site. El Castillo and several other monuments were visible above the tree tops, but Griego was more interested in something inside the structure. He clicked on a penlight and shone it on the wall.
At first glance, it appeared to be rough undecorated stone, but as Griego traced his finger across one of the blocks, Maddock began to see the outline of a Mayan glyph, badly eroded by the passage of time. “Here is the same image,” Griego said.
“A cenote,” Bell said, nodding. “But the image on the guidestone almost certainly predates Chichén Itzá.”
“You’re making an assumption, Charles. This isn’t the symbol for a sacred well. You see these pockmarks here?” He tapped several spots around the edge of the brick. Maddock had trouble distinguishing the spots from the stains of time, but Bell evidently did not.
“The Milky Way! Of course.”
“When the glyph for cenote — literally ‘hole’—appears in conjunction with the Milky Way, it becomes orificio que conduce al cielo. The hole that leads into heaven.”
Bones laughed as he joined them. “I knew a Catholic schoolgirl who had one of… ”
“Don't make me push you off this platform,” Angel threatened, cutting him off.
“What's the significance of the Milky Way?” Maddock asked.