- -
- 100%
- +
Yes, yes, of course she would return for him, she said in her language, trying to sound certain. Tomorrow morning. She would bring a rope.
She felt his body stiffen. In an instant, he had pulled her from her perch and was holding her in his arms like a small child. She stared up at him, her back supported by his massive arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his neck. Terror shot through her as she realised that in any moment, he could simply drop her upon the ground and snuff out her life.
He repeated his question, staring into her eyes with cold intensity.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ she said, nodding. ‘I will return. I promise.’
He caught her glancing up at the roots just beyond his head. He narrowed his eyes once again. He did not believe her. And why should he? She had betrayed him twice already. Besides, she had no reason to return for him and he knew it.
How could she reassure him that helping her escape was the right thing to do? Another kiss? No, a kiss would merely remind him of her treachery.
She needed to give him something real—something to convince him that she would return. She pulled the silver spear from beneath her cloth belt and offered it to him with both hands, like a gift. He looked at it closely, then laughed.
She felt the heat of anger rising in her cheeks. He found her offering funny? She stuffed the object back beneath her belt, fearing that now he would never let her go. She would spend her last breaths inside this bottomless pit with a man who had every reason to do her harm.
Now he was nodding at her and glancing at her waist. No. Not that. Please, not that. She began to sweat, though the air was cool. Mixcoatl, help me, she begged in silence. The man stopped nodding and fixed his gaze on the exact place beneath her belt where she had stuffed the shiny spear. Perhaps she had only misunderstood him, for it seemed he wished to see the spear again. She removed the silver spear and, following his brief nod towards the rocks, she dropped it among them.
Seemingly satisfied, he hoisted her back up over his shoulders and edged towards the wall of the cenote, just below the roots. Tula let out a long sigh of relief. She bent her legs and pressed her feet against his chest, scrambling to a standing position. For a moment, his hands rested atop her feet, holding them down. It was as if he wished to remind her of her promise.
Just as quickly, he released them and she clambered up the roots and stood at the cenote’s rim.
‘I promise,’ she repeated in Totonac, though she knew he doubted her. In truth, she doubted herself. To save this man would mean to take responsibility for him and she did not trust him.
She admitted that she was drawn to him—inexplicably so—and that she had enjoyed the feel of his lips upon hers. But she had always been drawn to unusual things—often to her disadvantage. This man was no history codice or quetzal bird or temple beneath the waves. He was a person, with his own needs and purposes.
Perhaps he had come with an army that meant to harm the Totonacs. Besides, if there was a treasure to be had, then it should be her people, not his, who should benefit from it.
Still, she knew she would return for him. His map was poorly drawn. It was uncertain whether it really led to treasure. The only thing for certain was the ring he wore upon his finger, and she was determined to steal it back. Her heart squeezed, for she knew that she would betray him for a third time, this fascinating savage from across the sea.
Yes, she would return for him. It was a cruel, merciless world and treasure was treasure.
Chapter Seven
Benicio stared up at his sparkling mistress, amazed. Here he was, at the far ends of the earth, stuck in a hole so dark and deep that it might as well have been a grave. Yet the planet Venus had found him. Benicio gave a gentleman’s bow to her, flickering above him in her luminous splendour. Surely this was a good omen. It signalled that the beautiful woman he had just sent on her way would return for him.
She would return, would she not? He had her fork, after all—a silver fork that she valued highly enough to conceal beneath her belt. The fork itself was yet another good omen. If the natives of this island had silver forks, it meant that they had silver mines. If they had silver mines, then they had gold mines and if they had gold mines, then surely they had hordes of golden treasure, just waiting to be found.
Benicio studied the fork’s elegant surface, amazed that the people of this distant land should fashion cutlery so similar to the cutlery of Spain. He rubbed his hungry belly. If only he had a bit of chorizo to eat with it.
It would be the second day in a row he had gone without food, though at least he had the fresh water of the pool to drink. He crouched on the rock and lifted several handfuls to his lips. It tasted good. Sweet, even. What a strange, remarkable place this was. It was as if a giant had shoved his spade into earth and created a massive well from which to drink at his whim.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.