Unholy Crusade

CHAPTER 9

A Dark Ceremony

IN THE morning, as early as he thought permissible, Adam telephoned the penthouse in the Avenida Presidente Masarik, only to be told that Chela was not there. Then, as it was a Sunday, thinking she might have gone to the house at Cuernavaca, he tried that, but with the same result. This led him to suppose that she had broken her journey to pass the night somewhere on the road, would attend Mass in the morning and would be back in Mexico City at latest by the afternoon.

On enquiry he found there was no morning flight to the capital, so he would have to take an evening plane. In an endeavour to distract his mind, he spent a couple of hours mooching round the town, bathed twice and tried in vain to settle down to a book; but the day seemed interminable. Hour after hour he badgered his wits for an explanation of Chela's extraordinary conduct. He could think of only one, and that made him utterly miserable.

She had asked for his help in the coming revolution and he had refused it. Bitterly he recalled the midnight meeting between her and Alberuque and overhearing the Monsignor speak of the `stranger' who could prove such a great asset to their cause, and how she must secure his help even if, by inference, she had to sleep with him. That he was that `stranger' he no longer had a shadow of doubt. Chela's revelation, that in his Mexican incarnation he had been Quetzalcoatl, was ample proof of that. They meant to use him as a figurehead with which to rouse the passions of the Indians. The sight of him, a near giant, with his red gold hair and beard, when presented to an already prepared mob, would send them into battle howling with fanaticism.

Yet it seemed impossible to believe that his beautiful Chela, who had given herself to him with such passion, was cold at heart, really cared nothing for him and had just allowed herself to be used as the tool of a scheming priest. There was, too, their wonderful link from the past. Their miraculous coming together again after nearly a thousand years. Surely that unique experience must mean as much to her as it did to him? Nevertheless, she had abandoned him without even a word of farewell, and on the evening after he had refused her his help; so what other explanation for her behaviour could there possibly be?

At last he was in the aircraft on his way back to Mexico City. As soon as he reached his hotel he telephoned the penthouse again, but she had still not arrived. On the chance that he might get news of her he asked to speak to either Bernadino or Ramon, but both were away and were not expected home until the following morning.

After another night of misery he rang up again. This time Ramon came on the line. He had just returned from spending the week end at Cuernavaca. No, Chela was not there and they were not expecting her. She was away on one of her tours inspecting schools, so might now be in any one of half a dozen towns. Then he asked, `Do you happen to be free for lunch today?'

When Adam replied that he was, Ramon said, `Then come and Lunch with me at the Bankers' Club. It's on the top floor of the Bank of Mexico building. That is just past the Palace of Arts and the entrance to the Avenida de Mayo. I'll be expecting you at about two o'clock.'

Thankful that he would have something later in the day to distract his mind and, perhaps, learn something of Chela's movements, Adam mooned away the morning. He arrived at the Bank of Mexico absurdly early; so on seeing that there was a Sandborn's next door, to kill time he went in to buy himself a drink.

There were a number of Sandborn restaurants in the city and he had heard them likened to Lyons in London, although, in addition to being restaurants and selling food, Sandborn's did a big trade in picture postcards, patent medicines, beauty preparations and numerous utility lines. This downtown one was a fine, lofty old building, the interior walls of which were lined with colourful patterned tiles, and it had a minstrel’s gallery. The waitresses were mostly Indian girls; all of them were dressed in national costumes with big bows on their dark hair and long streamers down their backs. The place was packed with people, and Adam did not wonder after he had found a seat and had a look at the menu, for it offered a fine choice of dishes and the prices were most reasonable.

A quarter of an hour later he walked into the big, marble entrance hall of the bank and was whisked up to the top floor in a lift. From what he had already seen of the way rich Mexicans lived, he had expected the club to be luxuriously equipped, and he was not disappointed. Elegance and comfort could hardly save been better combined. Ramon was there and greeted him cheerfully, then they sat down to drinks.

Adam saw no reason why he should not disclose that Chela had

been down in Oaxaca at the same time as himself, but his hope of locating her through Ramon was disappointed. Apparently she went off on these trips frequently and on this occasion she had said she would be away for about ten days; usually she left a note

of her itinerary so that letters could be forwarded but, apparently, this time she had forgotten.

Adam guessed that to be because she had intended to spend several days with him at Oaxaca, but that was now no consolation. Their talk then turned to other matters and, half way through an excellent lunch, Ramon asked about his guest's future plans.

`I really haven't made any,' Adam admitted. `My object in coming to Mexico was largely to gather background material for a new book. Of course I shall go down to Yucatan and, perhaps,

Palenque. Are there any other places that you think are particularly worth seeing?'

`Yes, plenty,' came the prompt reply. `You should certainly see Taxco, the centre of our silver industry, and the beautiful old churches at San Miguel de Allende. Why don't you hire a car with a driver guide and make a round trip? You could go north to the picturesque old Spanish town of Queretaro, across to San Miguel, then to Guanajuato, where there is a lovely eighteenth century theatre, on to San Diego then down to Morelia. From there it is a delightful drive through San Luis Caliente which would bring you round to Taxco in the south, then back to Mexico City. None of these places is much more than a hundred miles from the next, so you could make the trip easily in a week and have plenty of time for sight seeing.'

The ancient ruins were of much more interest to Adam than Spanish architecture, but, as Chela had not returned direct from Oaxaca to the capital, it now seemed unlikely that she would be back for another week, and the suggested trip would keep him occupied; so he agreed that it was a good idea.

Ramon promptly volunteered to send him an itinerary, arrange about hotel accommodation and engage a reliable driver guide. Then, after hesitating for a moment, he gave Adam a quick look and went on, `I suppose that, as an author wanting to get as much information as possible, you talked to the guides you had down at Oaxaca not only about the sights they were showing you but about all sorts of other things: the conditions they live under, education, politics and so on?'

As Chela was supposed to have been inspecting schools, Adam naturally refrained from saying that he had had a professional guide only for his first morning, and thought it easiest to reply, `Yes.'

`Did any of them happen to say anything about unrest among the Indians?' Ramon asked casually.

It was a subject which now deeply concerned Adam, so he was glad that it had been brought up. With the object of drawing his host, he replied with a smile, `I take it you would not ask unless you believed there to be.'

Ramon was silent for a minute while he ran a hand over his crinkly hair, then he said, `I see no reason why I shouldn't tell you. My job at our Embassy in Washington is Security. The F.B.I. picked up some indications of possible trouble and I was sent back to inform the Minister. When I got here I found that our own people were on to it that there is something brewing. They wouldn't be much good at their job if they hadn't. Anyhow, I was ordered to remain here for a bit and lend a hand collating such information as can be picked up.'

Adam was wondering how much Ramon knew about Chela's activities and if he would in due course try to pump him about her. Smiling again, he asked, `Is that why you asked me to lunch?'

`Gracious no!' Ramon's surprise appeared quite genuine. `It was my offer to get a good guide for you that led me to ask you about the ones you had at Oaxaca. You see, people of that kind often let off steam about the government to foreigners in a way they never would to anyone like myself, and I just thought you might have heard something.'

To draw Ramon further, Adam had to play a card; so he said, 'As a matter of fact, I did. I gathered that the peasants have been disappointed time and again about promises that they should be given the land, and they have become so fed up that they are likely to rise in a mass and take it.'

Kaman nodded. `That's it. Was any mention made of the church?'

`No. Is it involved in this?'

`Yes, up to the eyes. The Church was sitting pretty as long as the Spaniards ruled the roost here. It ran a virtuous sideline of protecting the Indians from exploitation and in the meantime accumulated enormous wealth. But after Independence it was forced to disgorge, and ever since it has been our nigger in the woodpile, continually inciting trouble in the hope of getting its ill gotten gains back.'

`I see; and it is able to make use of the peasants because the great majority of them are such devout Catholics?'

`Devout Catholics! Don't you believe it. At heart they are every bit as pagan as they were a thousand years ago. They attend the ceremonies of the Church, of course, but only because all pagans

believe that any god may play them a dirty trick if they fail to propitiate him. And to them the white man's God must seem pretty powerful. When they show particular devotion to a Christian saint they are really asking some favour from one of their own deities with whom they have identified him. What is more, most of them come to Mass on Sunday morning after having participated in a good old fashioned blood sacrifice of a cock and a hen the previous evening. The priests know that perfectly well and make no effort to stop it. All they care about is the hold they have over the people.'

`I must say I find this a bit surprising.'

`It's common knowledge. Ask anyone. The Indians are so riddled with paganism that they don't even bother to hide it. Right here in the middle of Mexico City there is a Witches' Market.'

`Oh, come! You're pulling my leg.'

`I'm not, I assure you. I'll take you to it after lunch if you like.'

`I'd be most intrigued. But what do you deduce from all this?'

`That the Church is planning the overthrow of our agnostic government by inciting the peasants to rise in a jacquerie. If it succeeds, all hell will be let loose. The Indians and Mestizos have always hated our guts. By “our” I mean Mexicans of pure Spanish descent and the many Americans and Europeans who live here for business reasons. Perhaps one can't blame the Indians, but they are not a pleasant people. Most of those in central Mexico are descended from the Aztecs and they were about the cruelest race the world has ever known… If they did get the bit between the teeth there would be wholesale arson, pillage, rape; and anyone who had any money would be hideously tortured to make him hand it over.'

`What are the chances of nipping this threat of revolution in the bud?' Adam enquired.

`It's hard to say. The damn' thing is so nebulous. So far we have not got a line on any of the leaders. It seems to be like a sort of epidemic and is a general movement right through the country. I suppose it might be stymied if we pulled in all the priests and put them behind bars. That has been done before in part at least. On one occasion when the Jesuits were getting above themselves their quarters were simultaneously surrounded and every single one of them was arrested overnight. But an operation of that kind now could prove the fuse to set off the dynamite and launch ten million Indians on the warpath.'

For a few moments Ramon's brown eyes were lowered, as he stared unhappily down into his balloon brandy glass; then he

said, `I suppose the chaps you talked to down at Oaxaca didn't mention any names?'

Adam shook his head. `No, it was just general grumbling about the awful conditions in the small towns and villages, and the sort of vague, sullen threats of the discontented that one does not take very seriously.'

Ramon looked up. `But it is serious, believe me. That's why I have decided to ask your help. It only occurred to me a while back when we spoke of this week's tour you have decided to do. As I mentioned, the ordinary people are very cagey with anyone they feel might report what they say; but they talk pretty freely to foreigners. In the evenings you will be sitting about in cafes and, no doubt, talking to people. You might pick up quite a lot. Should you hear anything worth while, I'd be awfully grateful if you'd let me know.'

Adam considered the matter for a long moment. When down at Cuernavaca, while eavesdropping under the bridge, he had assumed that Bernadino was involved. That night, the fact that Chela had purloined Ramon's briefcase to let Alberuque see his papers had indicated that, although the capitalists and the Church might both be planning a revolution, they probably had different aims and were certainly not working hand in glove. Yet Hunterscombe had been of the opinion that both were involved and had asked him to spy on Chela, Alberuque and Bernadino. But now, from what Ramon had just said, it was clear that Hunterscombe was mistaken. The capitalists might not like the government, but regarded the Church and the Indians as a menace, so would do all they could to maintain the status quo. Therefore, when Bernadino had spoken of warning certain people, he had not been referring to fellow conspirators but, most probably, telling the principal executives in his organization to keep their eyes open or signs of coming trouble. This new assessment put the Enrique’s, father and son, in the clear; but it still left Chela vulnerable if the part she was playing was discovered.

He had never subscribed to Chela's belief that if the masses rose everywhere the government would be overwhelmed in a matter of hours. The Mexican regular army might be small, but it had tanks. There was, too, an air force that would probably obey orders to machine gun mobs, and the police could be counted on to use their pistols and tear gas. Against even a small minority so equipped, the largest force of malcontents could not swiftly prevail ferocious fighting must result. Many thousands of innocent people caught up in it would lose their lives or have their property destroyed

All that Hunterscombe had said supported that belief, and Adam now decided that he could not possibly refuse to do what he could to prevent such tragic happenings. As far as Chela was concerned, he thought it highly improbable that during his proposed trip he would meet anyone who had even heard of her and, should her name be mentioned in connection with the conspiracy, he could suppress it.

Ending his long silence, he said, `All right. I don't suppose there is much chance of my picking up anything of value, but I'll keep my ears open and get in touch with you on my return if I have anything of importance to report.'

`Many thanks,' Ramon smiled. As by then they had finished their coffee and liqueurs, he added, `Now let's go to see the Witches' Market.'

Adam had expected the market to be hidden away in some building and that they would be questioned by watchers before they were allowed to enter it; or, at least, that it would be in some narrow street in the heart of a noisome slum. On the contrary, although it was in a poor part of the city, it faced on to a broad boulevard and several cars were drawn up in front of it.

The market consisted of two avenues lined with, in all, some thirty or forty small shops. In front of each was an array of a score or more sacks open at the top to display a variety of dried herbs. Beside each array of sacks sat a witch. Most of them were fat and elderly, but none of them looked particularly evil, and with cheerful greetings they cried their wares.

But it was the windows of the shops that at once caught Adam's eye. They were filled with grotesque masks, dried bats, rats and other animals, the bald, fleshless heads of vultures; toads and newts in jars of spirit, rosaries made from the skulls of small animals and glass bottles partly filled with most sinister looking concoctions.

`Apart from practicing witchcraft,' Ramon told Adam, `these old beldames do a big trade in herbs. Most of us tend to forget that nearly all modern medicines are derived from herbal remedies of the distant past. Many, too, have never been studied by our research chemists, so are not available to qualified practitioners. For example, you see that pile of nuts over there. If you always carry two of them a male and a female in your pocket, should you be a victim of piles you will never suffer from them again.'

`Thank goodness I don't. But is that really so?'

`Yes; many people swear by them. A European Ambassador who left here some months ago found them so efficacious that he recently wrote to a chap in our Foreign Office asking to have half a dozen pairs sent him for friends of his who were sufferers.'

Adam pointed to a string, from which dangled several vegetables looking like carrots, but having roughly the form of a man, with legs ending in points. `I imagine those are mandrakes. What do they use them for?'

`Oh, they grind them up with other horrors to make potions. For quite a small sum they will sell you a concoction that will bring your rival out in boils: and under the counter they keep stuff that, if you pay them well enough, will ensure your old aunt's dying a pretty painful death, apparently from natural causes, so that you can inherit her money.'

`But do they really cast spells?'

`Indeed they do. As I've told you, the mentality of the Indian peasants has hardly advanced at all since Cortes arrived here. They are so devil ridden with superstition that if they think they have been bewitched they develop the ill that they have been cursed with. There is no scientific explanation of how such physical changes take place, but there is no doubt that they do.'

Ramon dropped Adam at his hotel and that evening sent him several pages of typed notes, listing the hotels into which he had booked him and places of interest he should not fail to see during his trip. Next morning a cheerful looking Mestizo, who introduced himself as Felipe Duran, arrived with a car and they set off.

They reached Queretaro soon after midday; so Adam was able to have a good look round the old Spanish town before lunch, then do the forty miles on to San Miguel de Allende where he was to stay that night. In the fine church there he got into conversation with an elderly priest. Secretly amused by the thought that he was now an unofficial secret agent, Adam entered on his new role and asked him about his work.

The priest said that there was always plenty to do but, unfortunately, never enough money to do it with. As in most parishes, they had many old and ailing for whom the State did nothing, and the Church was hard put to it to give them even a modicum of the attention they needed.

Taking the hint, Adam produced a hundred peso note as a contribution to the poor box. The priest, from being merely polite, became quite cordial, showed him the treasures of the church, asked him to what other places he had been and, when he learned that Adam was gathering material for a book, said, `I hope that when you write it you will not, like most foreign authors, tell only of the modern Babylon that Mexico City has become, but also describe the real Mexico and the harsh life led by her people.’ Is their lot a very hard one?' Adam enquired naively.

`Deplorable,' replied the priest with a shake of the head. `When I was a younger man I had a parish up in the Sierra Madre Occidentale. It covered eight hundred and fifty square miles. In it there were over thirty villages and I was the sole stay of their inhabitants. To many of the villages there were no roads, only mule tracks. I spent my life riding from one to another, ministering to the bodies as well as the souls of my wretched parishioners; for no doctors ever go to those places. Tuberculosis, malaria, dysentery and rickets due to malnutrition are rife in such sparsely populated areas; so a medicine chest is a part of a priest's equipment and he does what little he can to relieve the afflicted. He is also their counsellor in family disputes and all matters concerning the commune. Their poverty is such as to wring the heart. They are truly devout and willingly give what little they can to support their priest; for he, too, must live, albeit on a pittance. But so near the starvation line are they that in some cases the only church they can afford is a single room with not even a confessional in it. Write of these things, I pray you, senor, for if the rich were made more fully aware of the miseries the Indians suffer, they might prove more charitable.'

Much moved, Adam said good bye to the old man, whom he could not possibly believe was involved in the conspiracy. But it did strike him that peasants leading such a grim existence, and with nothing to lose but their lives, would prove easily inflammable material if called on to right their wrongs by a priest who was a firebrand.

That evening, instead of drinking and dining at his hotel, he visited several cafes and ate in a small restaurant. The people to whom he spoke were invariably most courteous and talked with him on a variety of subjects, but he picked up no information of interest. Early next morning Felipe drove him the few miles to Guanajuato.

There he looked in at the charming little horseshoe shaped theatre with its tiers of gilded boxes. At the church he got into conversation with a younger priest, a gloomy dark skinned man who evidently regarded him with suspicion and, as soon as he mentioned the poverty of the Indians, shut up like a clam.

Early in the afternoon he reached Irapuato, where he was to spend his second night. At the church he could not find a priest; but he passed his evening scraping acquaintance with people in the cafes and, when he had his dinner, shared a table with a commercial traveller who sold patent medicines. He was an urbane type, full of information, but not of the sort that Adam was seeking. With pride he talked of Mexico 's industrial revolution: New factories were going up everywhere. Production had tripled in the past quarter of a century, and was still increasing at the rate of seven per cent a year. He knew little about the Indians and cared less.

On the Thursday, Adam went on to Morelia. The town was situated in some of the loveliest country in Mexico. He found the Hotel Mendoza there much superior to those he had stayed in earlier during his trip, so he was glad that he was to remain two nights. But he spent most of his time out and about talking to people who were sitting alone outside the cafes.

As had been the case in the other towns, nearly all of them were drinking tequila, the national spirit made from cactus, and, at intervals, sucking a piece of lemon sprinkled with salt. Adam did not much care for tequila but, to be sociable, he always ordered it, although in the form of a tequila Collins, as drinking it with ginger ale made it more palatable.

Nearly all the people he talked to turned out to be small townsmen, so from them he did not learn much. Most of them were of the opinion that the Indian peasants had never been far above the level of slaves and, until education became more general, would remain in that condition. But a few said that it was believed they had recently been forming some sort of organization to better themselves.

That evening, as a change from the fiery curries with which he had had to make do in small restaurants, he decided to dine at the Mendoza and, after dinner, he had a chat with a man who introduced himself as Don Augustin Flores. He was the owner of a big estate and gave Adam the opposite side of the picture he had been given by the commercial traveller.

Don Augustin said that Mexico was heading for ruin owing to the drift of the peasants to the cities during the past two decades. The deforestation of the land by the Spaniards had greatly reduced the conservation of water, with the result that many areas that in the old days had borne crops had deteriorated into arid wasteland. In consequence, for centuries there had been barely enough food to feed the population. Since the end of the Second World War the situation had further deteriorated because, tempted by the higher wages although, owing to the high cost of living in the cities, they were little better off great numbers of peasants had left the land to take jobs in industry as unskilled workmen. The result had been a further great reduction in the area of land cultivated and a steady decline in the amount of food produced.

Don Augustin predicted that if this drift to the cities continued, as it almost certainly would, within a few years the price of food, whether home grown or imported, would become so high that the peasants would not be able to pay it, and they would then begin to die like flies from starvation or, in desperation, rise spontaneously and march on the cities with the intention of bringing about a revolution.

Adam was deeply interested in all this. Ramon had told him that Mexico was already importing large quantities of food, with the result that prices had risen. Evidently this was one of the causes of the peasants' discontent; although apparently Don Augustin was unaware that a revolt was already in the making.

The following day Adam enjoyed a most picturesque drive to Patzcuaro, near which there was a beautiful lake. Then, in the evening, back at Morelia, he met another interesting character, a retired schoolmaster named Juan Padilla.

The Senor Padilla was a fiery Liberal. He had spent his life in schools and agitating for more of them. It was his belief that education was the panacea for all ills and he was full of praise both for the government's endeavors in that direction and the people's willing acceptance of them.

He conceded that there were many thousands of villages which still had no schools at all, or ones housed in old, decaying haciendas. But he said that this would soon be remedied. For some years past the Ministry of Education had been providing prefabricated schools and teachers for them. In the villages the peasants welcomed them with enormous enthusiasm, willingly gave their free time to erecting the schools and, when classes had started, the adults would often cluster round their open windows to absorb the lessons being taught to the children.

However, he admitted that there were two great factors that retarded the speed of education. One was that, for a good half of the year, the peasants would not allow their children to attend school, because for many generations they had been accustomed to have the use of them, however small, to play some part in sowing and harvesting; and, as there were three crops a year in the fertile valleys, this seriously interfered with the school curriculum. The other was the terrible shortage of teachers. Although they were emerging from the universities in much greater numbers than in the past, their ratio was far exceeded by the increase in pupils, owing to the fact that the advance of medicine in the cities, and to some extent in the country, had resulted in a population explosion with which it was impossible to cope.

Saturday morning Adam went on to San Luis Caliente, a smaller town a few miles off the main highway. There he visited the church and found the priest to be a sallow faced man with the receding forehead and fleshy, hooked nose of an Indian. He proved both talkative and very bitter about the conditions in which his parishioners lived. As Adam led him on, it soon emerged that he had Communist leanings and was a true militant. He dogmatically asserted that Christ's teachings were basically Communist, and even went on to say that in the Middle Ages many Bishops had taken up arms on behalf of their beliefs; so there was no reason why, should the occasion arise, priests like himself should not lead their people in an attempt to overthrow tyrants and establish a truly Christian community. On leaving him Adam felt no doubt at all that he was playing an active part in the conspiracy.

Adam took his evening meal at a small cafe restaurant in which about a dozen people were eating or just sitting drinking. He was wondering if he dare finish up with an ice and, as he had been taking two Enterovioform pills every morning since his arrival in Mexico as a precaution against typhoid, he had just decided to risk it, when a tall Indian with a long, droopy moustache appeared in the doorway. As he stood framed in it, several of those at the table lifted their hands in greeting. The man then said, `We eat pork tonight,' turned and went out.

The incident passed almost unnoticed by Adam, as he assumed that the man was inviting his friends to an anniversary feast or some other celebration. Although it was winter, the evening was by no means chilly and, as was customary in such small towns, the square was crowded with people slowly strolling to and fro beneath the palm trees, or squatting in the dust with their backs against walls, smoking cheroots. In one corner there was a small group clustered round a man who was strumming on a guitar.

Adam joined it and stood there for a time. Then his attention was caught by a tough looking Mestizo pushing his way into the crowd. Next moment the man said, `We eat pork tonight, pass the word.' Then he pushed his way out again.

This gave Adam furiously to think. Evidently the announcement did not refer to a family celebration, but was a password that would summon the initiated to some secret meeting. Edging out of the crowd, he looked round for the Mestizo, caught sight of him and kept him under observation. The man moved slowly down that side of the square, pausing briefly here and there at other groups, presumably saying his piece, then walking on.

The thought that he was now really on to something filled Adam with excited satisfaction, and he at once made up his mind to try to find out where the meeting was being held, then spy on it. Recalling the sallow faced priest with whom he had talked of Communism, it seemed almost certain that he would be mixed up in this; so Adam made his way to the church.

It was situated in a side street among the older houses of the town, which stood in their own gardens. Full darkness had now come, the thoroughfare was badly lit and there were few people about. But the church was not entirely deserted. Dim light came from the windows at one end of it, although no service was being held: neither were people coming in that direction.

Entering the graveyard, Adam stood there in the shadows for half an hour. By then he was beginning to fear that his hunch about the priest had been a wrong one. But he could think of no other line to follow and decided to remain there for another ten minutes or so. His patience was rewarded. A door of the church opened and a small procession came out. It was headed by the priest, carrying what Adam felt certain was the Host. Two acolytes accompanied him and half a dozen men, some of whom were carrying lanterns, followed.

The fact that the priest was carrying the Host made Adam again think that his hunch had been wrong, for it seemed hardly possible that he would be taking it to a political meeting; and more likely that he was on his way to give Extreme Unction to someone who was dying. Then, as Adam crouched down behind a tombstone while the procession passed, a swinging lantern momentarily lit the face of one of the men. It was the fellow with the long moustache. Adam drew a quick breath. His hunch had been right, after all.

When the little group had moved off down the road he emerged from his hiding place and followed at some distance. Soon he realised that they were heading out of the town and ten minutes later they were on an open road, lit only by the stars.

When they had covered about a mile, he saw ahead, rising from the flat countryside, a mound about thirty feet in height and recalled that he had passed it on his way into the town that morning. It was one of the innumerable small pyramids that are scattered over Mexico and have not yet been fully retrieved by the archaeologists. He remembered that the greater part of it was still covered with grass. Only the steep flight of steps leading up to the flat top had been cleared and repaired.

It stood about a hundred yards from the road and, as Adam came nearer, he could make out a considerable crowd of people squatting in front of it. At the approach of the priest they all came to their feet. As they turned towards him, Adam glimpsed

the white blur of their faces. Fearing to be discovered he promptly threw himself down into the ditch at the roadside.

Cautiously raising his head, he watched the proceedings. The people received the priest in silence, except for a queer low grunting, and for a few moments he disappeared among them. Then, by the light of the lanterns, he became visible again as he and his companions climbed the steps of the pyramid. When they reached the top, Adam could see that a stout table had been carried up there to serve as an altar, as it was draped in cloth and a crucifix stood on it.

Turning to the congregation, the priest began to intone. Adam was too far off to catch his words; but the loud responses of the people told him that a service was being held in Latin, and he guessed that a Mass was being celebrated. In due course the little bell tinkled, the crowd went down on their knees and the Host was elevated.

No partaking of Communion followed. The priest disappeared down the far side of the pyramid for about ten minutes. During this time there came again the strange grunting. The priest reappeared wearing a feather head dress and clad in Indian robes. Then he addressed the people in loud, harsh tones and, from their cadence, Adam guessed that he was now speaking in Nahuatl. In his dream visions of his incarnation in Mexico, Adam had spoken and thought in that language; but to his present life he had brought back only a partial understanding of it and, in any case, he was too far off to hear distinctly. As the priest continued, now and then with violent gestures, the crowd became more and more excited, occasionally giving vent to loud shouts of approval. Suddenly he ceased speaking. For a moment there was silence, then a tremendous burst of cheering `Ole! Ole! Ole!'

The crowd did not disperse and from its centre there came murmurs and movement. Some minutes later Adam learned the cause and that of the grunting he had heard. At the base of the pyramid there was a large crate containing several pigs. Four men, each holding a leg of one of the pigs, were lugging it up the broad flight of steps. It was, like all native bred pigs, not a large animal and, without difficulty, they got it to the top. There they lifted it on to the altar and held it down on its back.

The light from a lantern shimmered on a knife the priest had drawn as he raised it then struck downward. The pig gave a hideous, high pitched squeal, then went on squealing. The priest had not cut its throat but ripped open its breast. A moment later he had torn out its heart and was holding it on high for all to see.

The crowd went nearly mad with excitement.

As the Oles died, the four men swung the now dead pig by its legs and pitched it on to the top of the steps. Spurting blood, it rolled over and over to the bottom, to be seized on eagerly by others who carried it round to the rear of the pyramid. From there a lurid glow had arisen, of the significance of which Adam had no doubt. A big fire had been lit to roast the sacrifice. 'We eat pork tonight.' They would soon be tearing at the hot flesh with their bare hands and gorging it.

A second pig was sacrificed in the same manner. Then, when its body had been carried away, there was a sudden commotion among the spectators. A third pig had escaped when being taken from the crate. Mad with fear, it charged through the people, knocking down several of them. Only seconds later it emerged from the crowd and headed straight for the place where Adam was crouching in the ditch. Almost s one man, the crowd turned and came streaming in pursuit of it.

Aghast at the certainty of discovery. Adam came to his feet and turned to run. In getting out of the ditch he stumbled and fell. He had only just picked himself up when there came screams of `A spy! Seize him! A spy! A spy!' Next moment the crowd was upon him and he was fighting for his life.