All of a sudden, a big shadow loomed over the love-making couple. Maria opened her eyes wide, and when she saw the painted face and long black hair above her, she screamed in terror. It was an Indian, dressed in short white tunic, showing the reddish-brown of his skin, holding a dangerously looking knife!
Miguel needed a moment to come to reality. His wife’s anxious screaming urged him into action. He quickly got to his feet and made a threatening gesture towards the Indian.
He did not have a chance to do anything else. In a fluid movement, the Indian plunged the sharp knife into his breast, killing him almost instantly. He then turned to Maria, the dripping knife in hand and grabbed her by the hair.
She screamed even louder and struggled against his grip. Her loose hair swirled about in flashes of gold. To her surprise, the Indian loosened her as suddenly as he had grabbed her. He even stepped back a couple of paces and shouted some words in a language she did not comprehend.
Other Indians appeared in the tent’s entrance. One of them was holding a torch. The man who had killed Miguel took it and approached her a second time. When the light of the raised torch fell over her and disclosed her light hair and blue eyes, the Indians looked awe-struck. Hesitatingly, one of them reached out and touched her hair, uttering more strange words. The intensity of his look was more than frightening.
After a while they started to whisper in hushed tones accompanied by broad gestures. They seemed to come to some agreement, because some time later their leader beckoned one of his men to fetch a cape and he handed it to Maria. All of this time, she had not risked opening her mouth in fear of doing something the Indians would take offence to. Apparently they had never seen blond hair. Would they spare her life because of it? She almost dared to hope so. At last she spoke.
"What are you going to do with me?" she demanded. They only gave her a blank stare and shrugged.
She was escorted outside where the success of their ambush was evident. The soldiers of the company had all been slain. Some had their throats cut, others had severed heads or limbs. The stench of blood filled the air with a coppery scent. She had to suppress a feeling of nausea and quickly closed her eyes.
She only felt how she was lifted upon a horse. A horse? Why had they been spared? A hand prodded the back of her horse and it went into a trot.
When they were well away from the camp, she dared to open her eyes again. At least there was no more carnage now. She tried, as best as she could, to block out everything that had just happened in the camp. She could not yet bear to think about Miguel’s death and what this would mean to her. Mourning would have to come later, when they would be brought back to safety. Surely, the soldiers would look for them…
She concentrated on memorizing their route through the rain forest. It appeared to her they were heading north, which was the best she could do. When she looked around, she saw that their party consisted of about fifteen warriors and six unsaddled horses. Then she discovered a dark form astride yet another horse.
"Who’s there?" she whispered.
"It is I, Padre José" a soft voice answered.
"Thank God!"
"How are you doing, my dear?" the padre asked, his voice full of compassion. She felt a wave of deep pain when she thought of her loss, and impatiently wiped away the tears that suddenly appeared. She did not want to show weakness in front of the Aztecs.
The guard who rode next to the padre gave him a push. Apparently they did not like them talking. He said something they did not understand, but obviously meant: "Keep quiet!"
No more time for further thoughts. The band of Indians started its way into the depths of the forest and she had to follow. Deeper and deeper they disappeared into the forest.
Miguel needed a moment to come to reality. His wife’s anxious screaming urged him into action. He quickly got to his feet and made a threatening gesture towards the Indian.
He did not have a chance to do anything else. In a fluid movement, the Indian plunged the sharp knife into his breast, killing him almost instantly. He then turned to Maria, the dripping knife in hand and grabbed her by the hair.
She screamed even louder and struggled against his grip. Her loose hair swirled about in flashes of gold. To her surprise, the Indian loosened her as suddenly as he had grabbed her. He even stepped back a couple of paces and shouted some words in a language she did not comprehend.
Other Indians appeared in the tent’s entrance. One of them was holding a torch. The man who had killed Miguel took it and approached her a second time. When the light of the raised torch fell over her and disclosed her light hair and blue eyes, the Indians looked awe-struck. Hesitatingly, one of them reached out and touched her hair, uttering more strange words. The intensity of his look was more than frightening.
After a while they started to whisper in hushed tones accompanied by broad gestures. They seemed to come to some agreement, because some time later their leader beckoned one of his men to fetch a cape and he handed it to Maria. All of this time, she had not risked opening her mouth in fear of doing something the Indians would take offence to. Apparently they had never seen blond hair. Would they spare her life because of it? She almost dared to hope so. At last she spoke.
"What are you going to do with me?" she demanded. They only gave her a blank stare and shrugged.
She was escorted outside where the success of their ambush was evident. The soldiers of the company had all been slain. Some had their throats cut, others had severed heads or limbs. The stench of blood filled the air with a coppery scent. She had to suppress a feeling of nausea and quickly closed her eyes.
She only felt how she was lifted upon a horse. A horse? Why had they been spared? A hand prodded the back of her horse and it went into a trot.
When they were well away from the camp, she dared to open her eyes again. At least there was no more carnage now. She tried, as best as she could, to block out everything that had just happened in the camp. She could not yet bear to think about Miguel’s death and what this would mean to her. Mourning would have to come later, when they would be brought back to safety. Surely, the soldiers would look for them…
She concentrated on memorizing their route through the rain forest. It appeared to her they were heading north, which was the best she could do. When she looked around, she saw that their party consisted of about fifteen warriors and six unsaddled horses. Then she discovered a dark form astride yet another horse.
"Who’s there?" she whispered.
"It is I, Padre José" a soft voice answered.
"Thank God!"
"How are you doing, my dear?" the padre asked, his voice full of compassion. She felt a wave of deep pain when she thought of her loss, and impatiently wiped away the tears that suddenly appeared. She did not want to show weakness in front of the Aztecs.
The guard who rode next to the padre gave him a push. Apparently they did not like them talking. He said something they did not understand, but obviously meant: "Keep quiet!"
No more time for further thoughts. The band of Indians started its way into the depths of the forest and she had to follow. Deeper and deeper they disappeared into the forest.
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