THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA CRUZ

BOOK NINE: BOOK of the JAGUAR PRIEST

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Venustiano Carranza had equipped himself for the air show by donning a voluminous overcoat and goggles and wrapping a tan scarf about his neck in imitation of the dauntless aerialists of the Great War, still raging in the skies of Europe. The President, in an expansive mood, showed Silvestro to a table piled high with roasted beef and fowl, tortillas, vegetables and bowls of hot soup and beans. Bottles of wine rested atop a block of ice and all about them were vigorous men with red, windburned faces... pilots and mechanics of the Republic and, as Mexico had taken a position of neutrality, from England, the United States and Germany... all of whom regarded one another as bulls of different herds, seeking out capabilities and weaknesses, watchful for some gain should they someday meet in the skies above France or Belgium.

The airport was a windy place and, although not cold to the foreigners, the weather seemed blustery to the assembled guests and diplomats, including a Huichol jefe from the state of Oaxaca, who... like Silvestro... had been presented with Carranza's watch only that morning. "Tell him," the President said in passing Almanzar, "that his friend, the Colonel, is recovering and should be out of bed by evening. Don't forget to bring up those things we conferred about yesterday, and ask him whether he is prepared to sign an agreement or, at least, a document of intent."

When the Cabo had translated, Silvestro replied that he was favorable to the President's proposal but had not had time to give it the consideration that it merited. He begged the pardon of Carranza, stating that the sights of the capital had enthralled him and he had neglected his duty.

The First Chief accepted this reply, but asked the Corporal what kind of sights had so disfigured the Tatoob's face and the Cabo's own. Almanzar, being understandably unwilling to discuss Silvestro's encounter with the creeping things of the Well of Sorrows, fashioned a tale concerning their ride in a streetcar and the unfortunate accident therein, drawn from the memory of the collision he had witnessed only hours before from the lobby of the Hotel Londres. The President was sympathetic, promising to look into the safety of Mexico's streetcars. "Vehicles," he said, "so fast, so dangerous. There will come a time when they are safer but this..." and Carranza, glancing at the waiting aircraft grew a thought.

"Tell him," said the President, "that, by the end of this century, it will be as common for a man to travel a thousand kilometers over the Gulf of Mexico... from this place to Merida!... by aircraft as it is to travel one kilometer in a streetcar. And that these aircraft here have also revolutionized the art of war, as it is being practiced on the continent. A pilot and a bombardier can drop their cargo of explosives and reduce an opposing division or, even, a city block to rubble in ten minutes. The infantry soldier is well on his way to obsolescence, and," the First Chief added, "mastery of the world will, henceforth, depend upon who controls the skies."

Almanzar translated this and Carranza had the satisfaction of observing a change in Silvestro's eyes. Whether from fear or disbelief, even a calculation based on greed, or envy, Carranza did not know, nor care. He no longer even pretended to know the minds of indians, but only made suggestions, allowing these seeds to grow into such flowers of good or evil as they would.

In due time the President addressed his guests, dedicating three newly purchased aircraft to the children of Mexico. Champagne was sacrificed and the aircraft christened in the name of the heroes; to Morelos and Anahuac and, lastly, to Cuahtli... that eagle whose descent upon a serpent, many centuries ago, inspired the founding of Mexico City. Almanzar translated such of Carranza's sentiment as he could follow, making up words as seemed appropriate to describe the machines and the pilots. The latter, he translated "eagle-men" which brought surprise to the Tatoob, for he understood this to be the name the Ytza, who had stormed out of Mexico like their relatives, the Aztecs, gave those they sacrificed upon their pyramids.

"Yes, that is their name," said the Corporal, "and it is chosen well, for, in the European war, they sacrifice their lives in duels above the ground. And even here the gods have claimed two sacrifices, for it happens that the winds of this place can seize aircraft and hurl them down like thunderbolts, or against the side of a mountain. Such eagle-men, these pilots, have opened themselves to death," and Almanzar, who had embraced Freemasonry, began explaining Egyptian mysteries to Silvestro until the roar of the starting engines and the great winds the propellers churned up drowned his words and drove the spectators off in search of shelter.

For some time, the aircraft prowled this way and that upon the ground like motorcars but then, one by one, their noses pointed upwards and they departed the earth and flew towards an already sinking sun. No sooner had Silvestro raised his hands from his eyes in astonishment then they returned, passing above Carranza's guests at a height equable to that of the mountains south of the capital. Again the eagle men turned their craft and passed over the spectators, this time in a row, precise as a flock of wild geese. To the sun the aircraft flew... then Silvestro saw them emerge, turning and sinking through the layers of the sky as three stones through water, until they struck the earth with rubber wheels and slowed to a stop, to the applause of the President and all his guests save those still too astonished to accept what they had seen.

The eagle men detached themselves from their machines to receive Carranza's blessing and, afterwards, the congratulations and inquires of the herd. An American in a bow tie asked one of the pilots his opinion of German aircraft. The Oaxacan jefe puffed on a pipe and muttered cheerfully to his interpreter; here and there, the Tatoob understood a word that the first of the jackals, he who had afterwards become Halach Uinic of the Mexicans, for a time, had used in the Territory. But Silvestro's true interest was the planes themselves, silent now in the waning sunlight. Even at a full meter's distance he could feel their warmth, as if blood heated by the exercise raced beneath their skin. Carefully, he placed a hand over its underside, where the heart of the aircraft should be, if it had one.

"No, it's not an animal," said somebody behind him. Silvestro turned to find the President, filled with good cheer at the confusion of this indian. The Tatoob was seized by a wish to reply to Carranza in Spanish, to speak as an equal, but fought back the temptation. Instead, he pointed to the cockpit and moved his hand before his face.

Almanzar had been late to notice the situation, but had now joined them. "He's trying to say something," Carranza grinned, "but I can't make out his sign language. Is he asking for a ride?"

The Cabo asked this, and waited for the reply of the Tatoob, which was also substantial. He translated only parts of it. "He does indeed desire to be taken with the eagle men and... as you understand how little these fellows know about science, don Presidente, he... he wishes to fly to the sun and to commune with the heroes who live therein."

"To the sun?" The President's enormous belly rumbled and jiggled as that of Saint Nicholas of rhyme. Carranza removed his smoked goggles, for the shadows of the mountains had caught up with them; as he fumbled for the special, blue-tinted glasses, the sun, in dying splendor, dazzled him and his fingers failed. The spectacles dropped to the dusty soil and the President stood blinking like a great, white-bearded mole.

Almanzar retrieved the tinted spectacles and presented them back to don Venus. The First Chief thanked his benefactor and blinked again to verify that he was indeed protected. "The sun!" he repeated. “Does he realize how dangerous are these contraptions? And, of course, one never could fly to the sun... that is only a legend and, besides, there is no oxygen up there... nothing to breathe at that height! See that he understands this."

The President waited while the Corporal translated and waited longer as Silvestro and Almanzar held a brief discussion that seemed to concern the nature of the atmosphere. The Tatoob still remembered his pain, and the dizziness he had felt in the crossing of the Eastern Sierras, and could grasp the limits that the eagle men suffered under, for... now upon the ground they were clearly men. Finally the Corporal was ready to translate.

"He accepts what you have said about the oxygen, and that the eagle men cannot fly to the sun. He still desires to accompany them as far as they wish to go. He understands the dangers of the journey but adds that he has lived with danger for many years."

"I suppose all of us have." The President folded his hands behind his back and thought for a moment. "These are military aircraft," he said, "the property of the Republic. Only the military may employ them... certainly not those who still exist in a state of war with Mexico. To be sure, I have recognized his rank, but I do not yet have the written compliance of General Kaak with Mexico. Were he to sign the documents I've given him, his status would become official. Then, as one Mexican official to another, I would be pleased to authorize the granting of his request."

Almanzar translated this provision and added a postscript of his own. "I would have someone whom you trust read you whatever the President would have you sign. Don Venustiano is, of course a great man, but the language great men employ among themselves is as different from the Spanish of such humble citizens of the Republic as myself as Spanish is from Mayan.

"Would Colonel Solis understand these documents?" Silvestro asked.

"I'm sure he would. I do not know the Colonel personally, but they say he's a pretty sharp fellow. And he has principles; he's not the sort to tell a lie. That's a quality as important as intelligence, perhaps even the more so."

Silvestro nodded. "Then I shall make my signature upon them when the Colonel has explained their meaning." Almanzar told the President as much and, if Carranza's face showed disappointment at the delay, such remained masked behind the blue spectacles.

"Have the Colonel bring the signed documents to my office when he has had the opportunity to explain them to you. I shall then arrange, with the Air Force, the particulars of your journey. You are a brave man, General... I have fought Diaz and Huerta, Villa, Orozco and Zapata. I have heard the bullets' shriek and smelled earth and blood, and I have seen the zopilote's banquet. Air travel, however, is not for me... which is perhaps fortunate, for my presence would be that of two more men, perhaps too much even for machines so fine as these." And again the President laughed as would San Nicolas, a beloved grandparent amusing children with his tricks and stories.

A man waved for attention and Carranza broke off.

"Ah the photographer is ready. Come, come General, we'll have our pictures taken!" Almanzar tugged the Tatoob along in the direction of the photographer, whispering whether he had ever been photographed.

Silvestro replied in the negative, although he was not ignorant of the art. Since his smuggling expeditions to Belize brought him into contact with British officers, he had associated photography with the person of Queen Victoria who, though now dead, was remembered by portraits hung on all proper British walls of that colony and the smaller keepsakes carried in the wallets of British ammunition sellers. Here and there in Mexico were also photographs, those depicted were always the outstanding men and women... artists, politicians, Generals.

Photography was yet another subtle indication of status and Silvestro went willingly to the place Almanzar pointed out for him.

The visitors had been arranged in lines with the aircraft in the background so that all might enjoy the privilege of making immortal their presence beside the First Chief. Afterwards, the particularly honored guests were posed in smaller groups, in which President Carranza, the pilots or... in some instances... both were depicted; the regard in which the subject was held reflected by their presence. The Americans, British and Germans were photographed... though never the latter two together... and then, Almanzar explained, a noted Ingenario. The Zapotec jefe and his pipe were placed before the camera and then a cadaverous looking fellow in a top hat whom the Corporal did not own but suspected to be the owner of a mine. Finally, Carranza's attention fell upon Silvestro.

"Will there be pain?" asked the Tatoob, for he had demonstrated his courage to Carranza in asking for the airplane voyage and did not wish to be embarrassed by the photographer, a little fellow with large, insect eyes and a comical moustache.

"Not at all," the Corporal replied, and pointed out how the others seemed no worse for their experience. With lingering reluctance, Silvestro permitted the photographer to situate him before of the aircraft with one of the pilots to his left and the President on his right.

"It will be a moment," the photographer advised. "The sun's too low and I'll have to use powder."

"Do it then and let's get out of here," Carranza scowled. "I'm freezing!" The President bared his teeth at the flustered photographer, impressing the Tatoob with their dimensions. These were tusks, not teeth! Don Venus raised his nose above the crest of his moustache and sniffed and grunted, kicking at the dust with taurean impatience.

"That indian looks like a corpse," whined the uncharitable photographer. "Can't you tell him not to stand so stiffly? There's murder in his eyes... that will be obvious."

"How do you make these people smile," the President growled.

"Saccech..." Almanzar said, pointing to the camera. But, if anything, the expression on the Tatoob's face grew even grimmer.

The Corporal beckoned Carranza from Silvestro's side. "Stubborn people, the Maya. Anything you tell them sounds like an order... they do the reverse."

"Degenerate nature," scoffed the President.

"Exactly. So when the time has come," Almanzar said, "merely whisper to him the word 'citam'. It will bring color to his face."

"Citam," the President repeated. "Some American journalists were in the capital last month and their photographer asked me to say 'cheese'. A foolish thing, but I was pleased with the consequence. Is that the Mayan word for cheese?"

"It has a similar effect," the Corporal said, and stepped back for he, of course, was not the sort of man with whom the First Chief would be photographed. Carranza called out for a toothpick and spat a persistent sliver of meat to the ground, kicked at it, grunted and nodded to the photographer. Filling his lungs with the thin air of Mexico's plateau, he said "citam".

Silvestro's smile was cut short by the powder's flash. He had seen this from a distance, but could not help but look quickly to his left and right as the odor reached them. Had someone been shot? The photographer was smiling, the First Chief embracing one of the pilots, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The smell of the powder passed, that of the Oaxacan's sweet tobacco supplanted it.

"I forgot to tell you about the flash," Almanzar admitted to the Tatoob. "It's a thing they have to do when there is not much light. Science," he said almost reverently and Silvestro nodded. "Now it's over, they're bringing up the cars. You'll have a fine photograph in a few days, all at Mexico's expense. Everything is going to be just fine."

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