Grantville Gazette Volume 47

  Nate and Gonzalo rode in silence, both still digesting the magnitude of what they had learned from each other about their predicament. Time travelers they were, a thing neither of them would ever have thought of in a million years. Always alert for danger, they followed their guides through the wide, sandy spaces between the misshapen thorn trees dotting the hills. Once, a huge bird swooped in low over their heads, startling everyone. It circled back. Upon closer scrutiny it wasn't a bird at all, but some kind of flying lizard! A leathery-skinned, bat-winged monstrosity the color of rainclouds, with a long, beak-like mouth, and a strange crest protruding from its head. Its wingspan was at least twelve feet. Gonzalo crossed himself. The horses both snorted in trepidation, but their riders kept them under control. They were both well-trained warhorses, and were used to peril.

  Nate's hand instinctively went to the pearl handle of his prized Paterson Colt revolver. He had taken to carrying the weapon loaded with all five shots ready, along with a loaded spare cylinder as backup. There was always the danger of an accidental discharge, but he had decided to take his chances with that, over being eaten by one of the local monsters. Watching the evil-looking creature circle, he once again regretted being forced to abandon his rifle with the Cherokees. But with a mad-as-hell chief and all his sons and nephews coming at him with blood on their minds, he hadn't had time to pack. The truth was, he had been lucky to get out of there with his clothes on. She sure had been a pretty lil' varmint, but hardly worth that kind of trouble.

  The flying creature let out an ear-splitting shriek, glared at them with a baleful crimson eye, then flapped thunderously away. It flew toward the great forest five miles distant, an immense wall painted a thousand shades of green. Once the foul thing was gone, the group began moving again, but all with half an eye looking to the sky for further visitors.

  "That thing was right out of a Bosch painting," Nate said.

  "Who was Bosch?" Gonzalo asked after a while.

  "He was a seventeenth-century Dutch painter. He had a wild imagination, and delighted in portraying the most livid scenes of Hell, full of wild-looking imps and demons. Fascinating work, best not viewed before dining."

  Nate paused, his eyes widening. "What in tarnation is that?" His weather-burned hand raised, pointing at something odd looming beyond the top of the next rise. It appeared to be the top of a building, too distant to make out clearly, but definitely man-made, its angles too perfect for nature. Their guides, unmounted, couldn't see it yet.

  "Tell your pals to pick up the pace, Gonzalo. Let's hurry up and get to the top of that next hill."

  Once their guides were alerted to their intentions, Nate gave Poppy a click that sent her into a canter. He took a moment to rejoice in having his prize mare back safe and sound. She was a pretty thing, an appaloosa from the distant Northwest, and he had paid a pretty penny for her. Her colorful coat had reminded Nate of a field of poppies back home, and so she was called.

  Nate reached the top of the hill just a few seconds before Gonzalo caught up to him on his swift palomino stallion. Poppy stood a hand taller than her new paramour, and it made the difference in the stretch. They brought their mounts to a halt, both staring in disbelief.

  "It's . . . a city!" Nate said, eyes wide with amazement.

  Before them lay a twenty-some-mile-wide stretch of floodplain, fields of achingly-familiar shades of green and gold over rich, dark soil, dotted with trees of startling normalcy. The middle distance was occupied by a city, around five square miles in size. Portions of it were walled, and construction could be seen, where they were erecting more such fortifications. The ubiquitous forest of gigantic conifers bordered one side of this paradisiacal stretch of earth. There were signs that logging was taking place. There would be no shortage of timber available to the builders.

  The central city was a wonder, hundreds of smaller buildings dominated by a group of massive, pyramid-like mounds, square in shape, and covered with grass except for their stone stairways. They could only have been constructed by the hands of man in what must have been an enormous undertaking. The largest was well over a hundred feet tall, not counting the barn-sized building occupying most of its top. The mound's footprint was at least fourteen acres! There were wide, open spaces between these structures, where people could be seen moving about, although they were too far away to make out in any detail.

  "I have heard of cities such as this from the tales of former comrades, men who had followed Cortés into Central America. There were great pyramids of stone there, much the same as those found in Egypt. These seem to be formed of earth. It is strange, no one knew of such a city in North America."

  "In your time. Or mine, for that matter. My guess is, this place is from a long time before either of our peoples came along. In any case, it's pretty incredible! I've never seen anything man-made that big. Must be some kind of castles." Nate's face was filled with an almost child-like wonder.

  "Or cathedrals," Gonzalo said, touching the silver cross at his breast.

  Their three guides had caught up with them, and gestured toward the city with wide smiles. One of them spoke for a few moments, then started walking down the hill.

  "I can't be certain, Nate, but I think he called this the Place of Our Children's Children. Their dialect is rather strange, I'm afraid, I can only understand bits and pieces. Perhaps our friends here are from an even more distant past?"

  "Well, considering that we both came from different times, that doesn't sound too surprising. Let's hope their children's children are as nice a folk as these fellows seem to be."

  "Yes, let us hope so. The Aztec city-dwellers of Central America were known for bloody rituals of human sacrifice," Gonzalo said.

  At the bottom of the hill, the thorny scrub-lands abruptly gave way to fields of good, old-fashioned plains grass, as if the two terrains were bolts of different cloth laid edge to edge. Progress forward had to pause, as the horses stopped to eat their fill. There could be no dragging them away from such a sumptuous meal after the meager rations they had been subsisting on. The men all smiled, feasting their eyes on the sweet verdure of God's proper Earth. Here and there, meadow flowers bloomed, so beautiful as to nearly break their hearts.

  After a while, they urged their still-hungry mounts forward; it wouldn't be well to fill their bellies too full after what had been nearly a fast. There would be plenty for later, and—

  Dear Savior, was that corn up ahead? Gonzalo and Nate both shared a hungry look as they passed through fields of tall, stately maize, crowned with golden tassels. Nate figured it was probably that funny-colored injun corn in the husks, but at this point he could probably chew up a corncob pipe for supper and then ask for seconds.

  As they drew closer to the great mound city, Gonzalo wondered if his former comrades, the conquistadors, had come here, and what evils they might have perpetrated? It was very possible he would not be welcomed. In fact, they might want his head to display on a pike above the city gates. He bore this fear silently, resolved that whatever fate awaited him he deserved, payment for his many sins. It was likely that he had survived the terrors of the swamp only to be brought down by what he thought must be the forebears of those de Soto's expedition had used so cruelly.

  They followed a narrow, hard-packed road through the fields. Along the way, a very surprised-looking native stuck his head out of the stalks, eyes goggling at the approaching visitors. After a brief, but very animated exchange with their guides, the man shot ahead, running full tilt toward the city. Not long later, they arrived at a heavy, wooden gate between two towers of rough-hewn timber. Each tower held five warriors, all with bows aimed at them. Twenty more bowmen lined the top of the wall on each side. Their guides turned to Nate and Gonzalo, their gestures unmistakably signaling for them to wait where they were.

  Gonzalo said something that must have been consent in their language, and the three began walking toward the gate, arms held high, calling out loudly all the while. Some of the men in the towers
called back, and a long, loud conversation began, which included many dramatic gesticulations.

  "Can you understand them?" Nate asked Gonzalo. The Spaniard had taken off his helmet, securing it firmly behind him on the saddle. He pushed damp locks of thick, black hair back from his brow, then cocked his head like a hunting bird, listening carefully. After a moment he sighed.

  "Very little, I'm afraid. This is a different dialect, perhaps some other tongue entirely. It is always like this with the natives. Go but a little ways up a river, and you will find a completely different language."

  Nate laughed softly. "I know how that is. I can speak Cherokee pretty good, and a smattering of Chickasaw and Choctaw. This here sounds a bit like Chickasaw, but just only a word or two, can't really be sure. Anyway, I wonder what the fuss is all about. Those fellows on the wall don't look too happy to see us."

  "I fear I might know why. If they have met others of de Soto's force, they will not be pleased to see a man such as me." Gonzalo's darkly-tanned, olive-skinned face was deeply etched with shame.

  "Well, even so, it wasn't you. Your friends there will vouch for you, I think."

  "Perhaps. I shall meet whatever judgment awaits me. I have sinned much, and am tired of fleeing my fate. It will be God's will if I meet my death at the hands of my fellow man, rather than in the maw of some dragon."

  "The hell it will! Buck up, man. If it comes to that, we beat it the hell out of here! You can't just let them take you!" Nate paused for a moment. The idea of losing his odd new companion so soon didn't sit well with him. "If we have to, we'll fight!"

  "You must not risk yourself for me, my friend! I am not worthy of such sacrifice."

  "You were the good Samaritan, stepped right out of the pages of the Bible, when you cut me loose from that snare. The Lord has to count that in your favor." Nate reached over to clap Gonzalo's armored shoulder encouragingly. There was an audible clang.

  Nate wriggled his fingers as if to shake loose the pain. "Ow! Anyway, I'd prefer it if you stick around a little longer. You're the only friend I got, sinning son-of-a-bitch Spaniard or not!"

  Gonzalo let out a sharp little laugh and brightened up considerably. It had been a long time since anyone had called him "friend," and it filled him with unexpected pride that someone would, especially one who appeared to be a loner by nature. He was fairly sure that Corporal Theseus Tucker didn't use the word often, or lightly.

  One of their guides came running back with a very worried look upon his face. He spoke so rapidly that Gonzalo had to ask him to slow down. After listening for a minute with his head cocked, and a mighty frown on his face, he turned to Nate.

  "It is as I feared. They recognize me as—what did you call us?—A conquistador. It seems my ex-companions attempted a raid on this city some weeks before, the fools! They were unsuccessful of course, but have enraged the city folk. Our guides have told them that I am no longer one of them, and that we two fought valiantly against the dragon, surely saving their lives. He says the guards have sent for a wise-man to come talk to us. He will determine if I am fit to enter their city."

  Nate saw the gate open enough for a man to step out. He was an older fellow, perhaps in his sixties, although it was often hard to tell with the natives. He was dressed in simple, white robes. His silvery hair fell in two tight braids down his chest, in a style quite unlike the men on the walls, who wore their coal-black locks long and loose.

  "Gonzalo, snap out of it! Here comes the wise-man, I think."

  As their visitor drew near, an unexpected expression of pleasure lit up Gonzalo's face, like sunshine after a summer storm.

  "I know this man!" Gonzalo exclaimed. Carefully keeping his movements very slow, he dismounted, which filled Nate with anxiety, as he was planning on a swift get-away should things go sour. Gonzalo walked forward a few steps, hands held out to his sides in a gesture of peace.

  "Salomón? Can it be you?" Gonzalo called out in his odd, old-time Spanish.

  The older man smiled broadly and stepped up his pace, hurrying toward the waiting Spaniard.

  "Gonzalo! So, you are alive! I am most pleased!" he answered in the same language. The two came together, taking each other's hands in affectionate greeting. Gonzalo gently led him over to where Nate waited. The American didn't dismount, still keeping a wary eye on the men on the wall.

  "Nate, this is Salomón, a wise-man indeed! He served us as guide and translator for many months, earning the respect of even the most hardened of my people. Salomón, Nate here is a great warrior of a future people called Americans, a castaway in these lands just as we are."

  Nate made a polite dip of the head. "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir," he said in what he hoped was Spanish that would be intelligible to these men of a different century.

  "Oh, you speak Gonzalo's language, too! You look so different from the other foreign men I have met." Salomón said, studying him closely with sharp, deep-brown eyes.

  "I'm of English extraction," Nate told him.

  "English, yes! That is the language of the others that have come, the future people. Are you one of them?"

  "I come from about three hundred years in your future. There are others from even later times."

  "It is all very fascinating. If there is time, perhaps you could teach me some of your English? I should very much like to talk with these future people in their own language." The old man flashed him a bright, if a bit yellow-stained, smile.

  "It would be my pleasure." Nate returned the smile. Gonzalo's friend seemed to be a pretty likable old guy. Hopefully, he would get them out of the trouble they were in with the city people. Nate held some tentative hopes for a decent meal if they were invited in.

  The former guide to the conquistadors turned back to his former companion.

  "Gonzalo, you knew me as Salomón, the Spaniard's nickname for me since they couldn't be bothered to pronounce my real name. Here I am called Many Mouths, because I can speak many different tongues. I have come to prefer it. Salomón is a name and destiny I would leave behind."

  "As you wish, Many Mouths," Gonzalo said. Apparently the man didn't mind if it was said in Spanish. "Tell me, how did you come here?"

  "After you disappeared, I vowed that I would also escape those cruel and stupid men. Just before the raid, I slipped away, hiding here in the cornfields while the last of de Soto's soldiers attacked the city. They grossly underestimated the might of these people, and were defeated utterly. When the city folk found me later, I could understand some of their language, so they brought me before their great priests. Since then, I have served as a translator, helping them communicate with the various peoples that have appeared in this strange country. Many of these are the ancestors of those who live here, while it seems I am their distant descendent! This city was but a legend in my time. Another very strange thing, amongst so many wonders! In any case, I have a place here among them."

  Many Mouths fell silent. Nate thought he might have detected a note of regret in that last statement, and wondered if working for the city folk was a voluntary position. After a moment, the wise-man smiled again. "Give me a moment, I will tell the sun warriors that you are worthy of their hospitality."

  Nate and Gonzalo waited while a brief conversation ensued, then Many Mouths motioned for them to follow him. "Come friends, you will not be harmed. These are warriors of the sun priests, and they have granted you safe passage. You have been introduced as very powerful men, The Two Who Killed a Great Beast. They are impressed, and have decided to allow you to enter as warriors, keeping your weapons with you, a great honor. Come, and I will show you the great city."

  Gonzalo remounted, worried that high-spirited Flavio might balk at being surrounded by so many strangers. They smiled and nodded to the guards as they passed by, but their effort was met with fierce glares, and silence. Once inside the gate, six warriors came down from the wall, and fell in silently behind them.

  Viewing the city up close, Nate and Gonzalo were once again amazed at
the immense scale of the place. They started across a vast field, most of it covered in well-trampled grass, but sections had recently been planted with corn and other crops. Nate looked on with approval. The city folk were well aware of the danger beyond their walls, and were preparing for a long siege. Around them, the enormous temple mounds loomed like crouching giants.

  In addition to the architectural feats, Gonzalo and Nate were stunned by the sheer number of people present. The city was home to at least ten thousand. Hundreds walked here and there across the open yards, going about their business, hundreds more worked at various tasks. Their clothing was simple, but had a certain elegance, reminding Nate of the garb of ancient Greece. Even with the crowds, the scale of the city provided plenty of open space. Lining a distant wall, a jumble of small buildings and tents looked to be a market, a riot of colors and motion. Beyond that were what must be homes, rectangular buildings, walls stuccoed with white clay, and tall, peaked roofs of sturdy-looking thatch.

  "It's like the ancient world come to life before our very eyes," Nate said, his usually low, cool voice carrying a note of awe. "We are in classical Athens, or the biblical Land of the Pharaohs!"

  "Yes, the pharaohs indeed. It is possible these priests might resemble certain biblical personages in more than just appearance," Gonzalo added, darkly. "Let us be on our guard."

  "Amen to that!"

  They continued to gaze about as they rode slowly behind Many Mouths. The old gentleman gabbled happily with the three tribesmen who had brought them here. Both men from yet more distant futures were stunned by the scope of it all. Neither had seen a city so large in either of their own times. People sometimes stopped to stare at them as they passed, others ignored them completely. There were no smiles to be had. Nate tipped his hat at a gaggle of rather attractive young ladies, who simply stared back at him with wide, dark eyes as if he were a fish that had jumped out of a creek to dance a jig.