Kiss of Life

CHAPTER ONE-1

CHAPTER ONERiding on the best horse obtainable Lord Yelverton knew that he had a long journey ahead of him.

A railway line ran from Mexico City as far as Iguala, but from there the journey had to be made on horseback to Acapulco where he had arranged what for him was an appointment of considerable importance.

He had always known that things in Mexico would be primitive with an amazing contrast between the upper classes, the Creoles and Mestizos and the poor downtrodden Indians whose conditions grew worse year by year.

What he had not expected was that the country would be so unbelievably beautiful.

There were ranges of mountains in the far distance, their peaks silhouetted against the sky and dazzling with snow, trees covered the nearby hills, streams twisting low in the valley were silver with an occasional cascade breaking in a roaring torrent down into a pool.

Here there were many mauve heads of the lirio, the water hyacinth and, beneath the shady trees and along the path that Lord Yelverton was riding over, there were flowers vivid in every colour besides the strange almost ghoulish shapes of the cactus, one or two of them in flower.

The whole country seemed to have an agelessness about it, which made Lord Yelverton feel that he rode into Eternity and there was no point in hurrying.

He knew that this was the lassitude that affected all Mexicans, especially when they were on the high plateau where Mexico City now stood on the site of many Cities before it.

He had been studying the history of the magnificent and mighty pre-Columbian Indian Empires, which went back thousands of years and which would doubtless rise again for as many in the future.

He was, in point of fact, intent on discovering for himself some of the great treasures of the people who had practised soldering and filigree plating as early as 1000 A.D.

The story of these treasures had excited him until he knew that he would never rest until he had visited Mexico to find, if he could, some of them for himself.

An archaeologist for some years, his name was already known in Egypt among the tombs of the Kings and in Turkey where he had unearthed many ancient sites that had not been unearthed before.

The Roman remains in Libya owed much to his enthusiasm and the money that he had contributed to their discovery.

He had always thought that Mexico would be his El Dorado, but he had meant to wait a little while after a fascinating expedition to Egypt.

Then strange circumstances had brought him here sooner than he expected.

Everyone in Mexico City had been keen to talk to him about Mexico’s future, but Lord Yelverton was intent on his own business and had no intention of being involved in other people’s Politics.

He was a man of not yet thirty-two and he had a controlled reserve that made him seem aloof and an air of authority that those who served him found intimidating.

They would have been surprised if they had known that there was an irrepressible feeling of excitement in his breast as he led the way followed by a motley collection of horses and mules carrying his luggage and servants who had volunteered eagerly to escort him to Acapulco on the Pacific coast.

He was glad to be away from the Capital with its crowds of pale-faced Mexicans, Politicians, professionals and business people, all calculating, Lord Yelverton thought, how they could exploit his visit in one way or another.

The level of hospitality and comfort he had found there had not enticed him to stay on and he preferred the open country that he had seen from the train and even the infinite dryness unmitigated by the fields of wheat and maize and the brilliant fields of bright-green sugar cane.

Outside the City the Mexican man walked in a different way, jauntily balancing his huge hat with thrown-back shoulders and a folded serape like a Royal mantle.

Lord Yelverton noticed that most of them were handsome with dark skin and black hair that gleamed like rich feathers.

The local Indians might have a feeling of hopelessness but they were unbroken, determined and totally resilient, even laughing with indifferent carelessness at a future that appeared almost as grim as their past.

And yet in Mexico, more than anywhere else in the world, Lord Yelverton knew that the past was indivisible from the future.

He was absolutely certain that, if he had discovered treasures and antiquities in other lands, there was a great deal more to be discovered in Mexico than anywhere else he could think of.

The Mexican Pyramids were already occupying the attention and learning of many archaeologists. Temples and shrines were being excavated and Museums from all over the civilised world were competing with each other for the carvings, vases and pottery that were being regularly dug up.

Lord Yelverton, however, was not interested in what concerned other enthusiasts of past cultures, but in something he kept secret to himself and had mentioned to only one man since he had arrived in Mexico.

When he had been travelling back from Egypt, a seaman aboard the ship had approached him and showed him a small carved jaguar bone, which he said he carried for luck.

Lord Yelverton realised that the mythical scene depicted on it was of a very early culture and he had asked the man where it had come from.

“I’m a Mexican, my Lord.”

“You found this on one of the sites that was being excavated?” Lord Yelverton enquired.

The man shook his head.

And then he asked eagerly,

“It’s ever so valuable? You give me money for it?”

Lord Yelverton had naturally already sized up the Mexican, seen the greed in his black eyes and noted the sudden smile that seemed to transform his usually sullen expression.

“I will certainly buy it from you,” he said and named a sum that made the seaman gasp.

He deliberately gave the man more than he expected and, as he had anticipated, he very soon produced another small object from his pocket

It was of amber, the deep rich amber that had almost been lost to the Western world and that too was carved.

Lord Yelverton knew then that he had in his hands two almost perfect treasures from antiquity that had lasted all the centuries of disruption, destruction and warfare.

He was not surprised when, on reaching Mexico, he approached the greatest expert who he could consult to learn that what he now possessed had doubtless come from the classical period of Monte Albán.

“There must still be a great deal to be unearthed in that region,” the Curator had said. “There is an expedition setting out next month to search for tombs and I would expect sensational results from their findings.”

Lord Yelverton knew that the Rulers of the Mixtecs, who had brought most of the Zapotec territory under their control, had been buried with very finely worked objects of gold, silver, amber, jet and coral and necklaces of rock crystal.

He had also heard stories of thousands of pearls ranging in size up to that of a pigeon’s egg.

He had no intention of visiting Monte Albán, which he was certain was already overrun by eager archaeologists, but planned to go instead due South of Mexico City to Acapulco.

When the seaman had first mentioned it, it was only a name to Lord Yelverton, until his research on returning to England showed him that the Spanish led by Hernando Cortéz had reached Acapulco in about 1530.

Ships from this Port sailed to the other jewel in Spain’s new Empire, Peru, and from there they had even explored as far as the Gulf of California.

After they had seized Mexico and most of Central and Southern America, the Spaniards were determined to conquer the Philippines.

Lord Yelverton’s history books told him that the first Spanish vessels sailed East from Manila in 1565 and then across the Pacific and eventually arrived in Acapulco, opening one of the world’s most important trading posts at that time.

Ships from China and Japan regularly arrived there and their cargos were loaded on mules to be carried across to Veracruz on the Atlantic coast and from there to be shipped to Spain.

When the Spaniards left, with them went the trade to the Far East and Acapulco declined into what it had been before, a small unimportant fishing village.

It was a place that Lord Yelverton would not have thought of visiting had not one man whom he had been advised to trust in Mexico City told him that it was where he must go.

“Why?” Lord Yelverton enquired.

“Because, my Lord, you have to meet Ajax Audenshaw.”

“Who is he?”

The Curator looked surprised.

“You must have heard of him, my Lord. His reports to the Geographical Society are sensational and his book published four years ago about the Aztecs revealed more about their civilisation than all previous research had hitherto achieved.”

“But, of course,” Lord Yelverton agreed. “Now I know who you mean!”

“He is a strange man and always unpredictable,” the Curator added ruminatively, “but he is in fact the only person who can help you in that particular location and without his guidance your journey would be completely fruitless.”

This was plain speaking and Lord Yelverton looked surprised, but the Curator went on,

“I am sure that the people would resent a foreigner interfering with their dead, however many thousands of years ago they died.”

There was a twist to Lord Yelverton’s lips as he asked,

“Are you suggesting in a somewhat roundabout way that it might be dangerous for me to search for the tombs without obtaining Audenshaw’s protection?”

The Curator smiled.

“That, my Lord, is exactly what I am trying to convey to you and feeling a little embarrassed in doing so.”

“Then, of course, I must accept your advice,” Lord Yelverton conceded, “and call on Mr. Audenshaw.”

Again the Curator smiled.

“Let me warn you that he will not be what you expect. In fact I understand at the moment he has ceased his research into ancient civilisations and has taken up painting.”

“Painting?” Lord Yelverton exclaimed. “Surely that is a waste of his great knowledge and experience in many other fields?”

“I believe quite a number of distinguished people have tried to persuade Audenshaw that he is wasting his time,” the Curator said, “but he is a law unto himself. If he wishes to paint, he will paint. And what is more, my Lord, if he will not assist you there will be nothing you can do about it but return home!”

Lord Yelverton was so surprised at this that he could not for the moment reply and the Curator said tentatively,

“If that happens, although let’s hope for your Lordship’s sake it will not, I would, of course, be very grateful of the opportunity to purchase the two objects you have shown me, especially the jaguar bone which is better than most of what I have seen so far.”

“They are not for sale,” Lord Yelverton said coldly.

He thanked the Curator for his help, took a last perfunctory look at Mexico City and set off for Acapulco, grateful that he could at least travel some of the way by train.

*

Five days later Lord Yelverton found himself within sight of his objective.

The weather had grown much warmer and in the middle of the day it was so hot that both he and his entourage found it easier to rest in the shadow of the trees and then proceed late in the afternoon when it grew cooler.

Yet there was always a breeze from the sea and even sometimes a cool wind blowing from the distant mountains, which kept Lord Yelverton invigorated and not quite as mentally tired as he had half-expected he might be.

He had also grown increasingly curious about the man he had to seek out on arrival.

They had stayed on the way, not in inns since none existed, but in small villages, sleeping in the tent that he had been wise enough to bring with him and talking to the local inhabitants.

Sometimes this was outside the only place where one could buy a drink and at others on the steps of the inevitable huge half-ruined Church, its barrel roof crouching like an animal, its domes glittering with yellow or blue tiles, many of them broken or riddled with shot.