Golden Legend

Chapter 2-1

CHAPTER 2

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SHE FASTENED THE MASK of her diving equipment in front of her face and dived into the waters of the cenote. Despite the wetsuit, she felt a chill into the well at that early hour. After a few moments, the young woman lit the lamp and proceeded to orient herself in the bosom of the liquid mass. Oxygen tubes were weighing heavily on her shoulders, but soon the gentle movements of her body made her to move quickly. Soon the light emanating from the well that she had entered died, and only the flashlight illuminated the dark underwater tunnel. AS she removed the detritus of the well bottom with her soft kicking, waters got momentarily mudded until they settled down. The scenario that opened before her eyes as the beam of light traveled through the walls and the bottom subjugated her spirit, as happened whenever she dipped. Rocks of varied form, small fish sailing in formation surrounding the diver, vegetation submerged in varying degrees of decomposition, lateral branches in unknown directions of the cenote that invited her to explore them, while she swam accompanied by the serene sound of the bubbles she exhaled. A world of serenity and peace, without predators to fear or concerns that would distract her, the woman was invited to the detachment from everyday reality. Pure pleasure and mild exercise, release of serotonin and expansion of consciousness.

Teresa finally lost track of the time and the distance she traveled; only her sense of direction was running automatically. The underground course changed abruptly several times of direction, according to the resistance offered by the rock to the persistent action of rainwater, turned acidic by contact with atmospheric carbon dioxide, which dissolved the limestone rocks eventually but respected other harder rock strata.

After a stretch she newly perceived clarity on top of her; elevating the view she distinguished the outline of another mouth of the cenote and decided to come to the surface to look at the picture. Teresa emerged and sat on the muddy bank of the well in order to be momentarily released of the weight of oxygen tubes; when she took off the mask a series of natural fragrances invaded her sense of smell and looking around she was once more admired by the surrounding spectacle.

The clear space around the cenote was narrow and was in partial darkness, with the tropical flora standing majestic all around, with fanfare of colors. Feathers and flowers. Songs of birds and the murmur of water from a nearby brook partially covered by jungle. Joy invaded all her senses. Teresa took off her diving equipment and stretched on the grass allowing all natural energy to penetrate her body. It was a long time on the site, until the memory of her mission imposed, much to her regret. The girl had a fine balance between her sense of duty and her hedonistic trend, and this balance was the explanation of her calm nature and ease to obtain wellbeing.

Teresa was preparing for a new dip, when her senses were momentarily invaded by a well known sensation. The girl had certain special sensory powers, which in capricious form presented in the most unexpected moments, sending her more or less clear messages. This time the vision was referring to the underground river that she was touring, and made her aware of a kind of side inlet which emptied into the course that she was following, an entry with a curious shape, that somehow resembled a hammer.

Twenty-five years old, Teresa Cifuentes had reasons to be satisfied with her life. Born in the State of Yucatan, but resident for some time in Mexico DF, she graduated three years before as an anthropologist at the National Autonomous University of Mexico with honors. Almost immediately, and thanks to some of her father´s colleagues she came into contact with an American University that carried out studies on Mesoamerican cultures. At the start of an expedition in the region of Yucatan, the young woman had been assigned to an expedition directed by Magnus McPherson, a renowned Ethnologist of Scottish-American origin, with whom Teresa maintained a fleeting relationship, despite the age difference.

Gonzalo Cifuentes, girl´s father, was a renowned archaeologist of the Mexican University, although he now had administrative functions. The mother of the young woman, Leila Chehab, was the daughter of an important businessman of Syrian origin, which had always guaranteed the family a high standard of living and the rare possibility to devote themselves to whatever they desired. In addition, Teresa was the only granddaughter of Grandpa Chehab, who had an endearing love for the young woman, who gave him only satisfaction.

The diver equipment was placed into position, and she dived again. This time the water did not seemed so cold, since although the sunlight just got to sneak between the high foliage, the air temperature had risen significantly.

After a few moments of swimming, Teresa envisioned a dark hole to her right. With a soft kick she went thither, and her heart gave a leap by noting that she was entering a tributary water course, and the shape of the entrance resembled a hammer with the handle down. Without thinking, moved by a vital impulse, she approached the opening and after a brief examination, she penetrated it, twisting her body to adapt it to the narrow entrance. She avoided all contact with the rational part of her brain, knowing that it would advise her not to venture into the narrow tunnel.

With smooth body undulations Teresa was advancing with caution inside the narrow cavern admiring metal shines that gave off the walls reflecting the light from his lantern. Little fishes of multiple colors slipped around her while algae and aquatic plants waved before the turbulence created by her progress. The sand at the bottom was partially covered by bright stones, probably fallen from outside the cenote, and swept away by currents, particularly during the rainy season.

She saw it first with the corner of an eye and paid no attention, but apparently her brain unconsciously recorded the image, and forced her to go back to look, this time carefully: an object half-buried in the sand dismissed a vivid yellow glare when illuminated by the flashlight on her helmet. Teresa knew the meaning of that flash by narrations of underwater archaeological finds, and her heart began to beat faster. She came to the corner where the object was placed, and carefully shook her hand over it. As she spread the sand the unmistakable golden luster returned light. Heart strokes speeded up again when she confirmed that it was a cultural artifact, demonstrated by some incisions she could make out on its surface. Overcoming her anxiety she backed up to gain perspective of the area; trying not to remove much the sand at the bottom to prevent covering other possible objects, the woman turned several times by an area of several square feet, to convince herself that there was nothing else worthy of attention. Finally she picked up the piece gently and introduced it in her bag. Then, and always dominating her haste, she stirred up the bottom to uncover any other objects that could be found there, to make sure that there was nothing more. Then she began a long return by the underground river up to the cenote where she had dived, on whose bank she had armed a precarious camp.

After changing her immersion suit by clothes suitable for the jungle, Teresa slowly opened the backpack and extracted the object she had found. When she saw it in detail she could not control a cry of emotion. Despite the slime that covered it, the golden flash was detectable clearly as was its surface carved in bas-relief, where Teresa could discern figures and inscriptions.

The youngster stood up and turned again to the muddy shore of the cenote. She leaned over the quiet waters and proceeded to wash thoroughly the object found. When she was satisfied of the result, she returned to the camp, distant just 15 steps from the water. Up to that time she had repressed cravings to carefully observe the discovery, so now she sat down in her tiny folding chair, and then dried the object with a cloth, observed it carefully: it was a disc of about eight inches in diameter, thicker in the center than at the edges and undoubtedly made of gold. The circle was not perfect but pretty close. A circular sector, actually a strip about half an inch wide circled the disc, almost completely covered with glyphs. The central section of the piece presented a figure which, at first sight, Teresa interpreted as that of a warrior with his head covered by a headdress, perhaps consisting of feathers, and with his extended legs in a curious position, culminating with the soles of his feet facing each other

The spirit of the researcher had already submitted the first juvenile excitement. Mentally she compared this piece with others with which she had been I contact with, either directly or through illustrations during her studies or previous research. The woman carefully observed the relic with a magnifying glass of high gain, analyzing in particular the worn inscriptions. Then she photographed it and took notes with a precise description of the artifact. She finally proceeded to document the location of the cenote where she had submerged and the likely route that she had traveled under water. So it took her about one hour without noticing the passing of time, as the excitement gave. Finally, fatigued by the permanent mental concentration, looked to her around. The site in which the camp stood was charming, with trees growing within short distance of the cenote, but allowing the passage of a filtered light by foliage, the murmur of a nearby stream, the singing of birds and the outbreak of colors surrounding it competing for imitating a painter palette. The idyllic view gave way to the physical fatigue caused by the prolonged immersion in the underground river. She opened the travel cot and stretched on it; overcome by fatigue she was immediately asleep.

She awoke slowly, gradually recovering the senses. Teresa was surprised to hear human voices in off, which still came in a dream. She finally opened her eyes and turned her head toward the sound source. She saw a group of armed men in some sort of military clothes reviewing her little camp. That image caused her a great shock and she issued a sharp scream. When she tried to stand up she noticed that her hands were tied to the cot and the same happened with her legs. As she checked her state of helplessness her heart began beating rapidly. One of the men realized that Teresa was awake and approached her; observing closely his appearance the anguish of the young girl grew even more. Teresa had already been in contact with people of dubious appearance on her voyages to isolated spots, but this character seemed sinister. His sallow complexion and wavy hairs of the beard and hair that showed under the hat denoted some African blood, different from the population of Mayan origin common in the area. Teresa assumed that the men would be narcotics traffickers, although she had no news that the peninsula of Yucatán was inside the route that led from Colombia to the border with the United States through the Caribbean Sea and Mexican territory.

“Have you awakened at last?” Asked unnecessarily the man with a clear Cuban accent “So you are Teresa Cifuentes?” added while he held a personal document of the young woman in the hand “ By the notes that you have written I understand that you are doing historical or anthropological research, or something like that” Teresa saw papers scattered on the ground all around her tent, and felt doubly outraged to find that the men had been reviewing them. Gradually she realized that the subject, who introduced himself as Camilo, had a cultural level above the one she had assumed by seeing him; however, this finding did not reassured her.