A Golden Legend

Chapter 32

They continued walking until shadows grew large next to the trail, hampering both the march and the possibility of finding traces. They resigned to camping among a few skeletons of barkless trees in a spacious landing. They collected dry firewood and set a good fire. Marcelo´s mind could not escape the depressing influence of the nearby landscape. Spectral trees, bare rocks, the flutters of nocturnal birds hunting for scarce prey, all set to a grim scene full of omens, which were added to the fears of the young man for the fate of the woman he loved. He was discovering how much he loved her as they went by, and the measure was given exactly by his acceptance of risks to follow in the footsteps of her.

Huacman began to sing with a soft voice a tune in quechua. Marcelo had no way of knowing it, but the song was a complaint against the road  separating the singer of his beloved. The monotonous tone had a hypnotic effect on the Argentine, who finally fell asleep. He had no dreams and was suddenly awakened by a jolt in his right arm. When he opened his eyes he saw Huacman´s face with a finger in front of his lips, in an expressive gesture demanding silence. Act followed, the man threw dust on the embers of the small fire that still glowed in the dark in order to extinguish it, and then slipped under some bushes that barely could be seen in the shadows.

Marcelo, between alarmed and intrigued followed him and both stayed in calm and without making any noise. The first light of dawn quickly lit the scene, and Marcelo could distinguish the contours of the place where they were. It was relatively high with respect to the surroundings, placed on the slope of a mountain and close to its peak. In front of them a wooded valley and a few low hills opened up. Huacman pointed out a direction on the opposite hillside, three hundred yards away and at one lower altitude than theirs. Perking his view Marcelo glimpsed a few movements among the trees. As at those who moved wore masked clothes to integrate them into the forest, the young man could distinguish them mostly by the movement against a fixed background. It certainly was an armed contingent. Marcelo drew from his tool bag powerful binoculars that Miguel had lent him and focused on the men. He could see that their uniforms varied, as those of the irregulars that they had already encountered. He passed the glasses to Huacman, who took a while to get used to them. Suddenly the aboriginal shook his head. Under a red beret he had recognized the features of Ovidio, the member of the group that accompanied Jimenez in his unfortunate journey. In his particular language he explained to Marcelo who it was.

“The cursed!” exclaimed the young man in one of his rare moments of uncontrolled  “ no doubt he is the traitor who left messages to the pursuers. Teresa may be in grave danger because of him. If we can lay hands on him I will skin him alive and make him sing everything he knows.”

The young man got to calm down gradually. Then he recalled his two previous meetings with armed patrols, first in Yucatán, when he had recently met Teresa, in which also they should hide from the sight of armed people, and then in the Brazilian jungle. He told Huacman in whispers.

“Now I've been twice through this kind of situations.”

“Me, many times.”

The answer surprised somewhat to Marcelo, who had assumed that the guide was an indigenous peasant of simple life. He asked himself:

“Who is this man upon whom now my life and that of Teresa depend? What reasons de I really have to trust him?”

Coming across with hostile troops is not a rare experience to fighters who have lived in wild environments, particularly in the jungle, where it is difficult to detect enemy patrols even at short distance. This creates often close range struggles when abruptly rival sides encounter without prior notice. For this reason, fighters in forested areas are trained in such fights.

The first light of dawn began to emerge between the East peaks. Huacman proceeded to erase the traces of their stay and dispersed the ashes of the fire, while Marcelo radioed down to Miguel to communicate the news.

“... but how can you be sure it was Ovidio, if you briefly saw him in the dark?” Miguel insisted.

“First sunrays hit him for a moment. Huacman recognized him immediately. This is consistent with the coded message which we found along the way.”

“ But you say that it was uniform?”

“In a guerrilla uniform or something like that, but he sure did not wear civilian clothes.”

“I must notify McPherson. What concerns me most is that Ovidio came brought by Rangel.”

This phrase was followed by a significant silence from both radio partners, which were maturing the implications of the statement.

“Hey Marcelo, I insist you come back, you cannot risk yourself and Huacman if there are militiamen with unknown intentions around. In addition, we must concentrate our forces if necessary to defend themselves.”

“ Do not even think about it! You forget that Teresa and others are with unknown whereabouts. If Huacman accompanies me we will continue together, otherwise I will just continue by myself. An important question: do you confirm that this Ovidio guy was in the advance team with Teresa?”

The silence answered on the other side, so that Marcelo had to repeat his question. Miguel replied with a voice hoarse and sorry.

“Yes, the Group was integrated by Teresa, Francisco, Ovidio, two pawns and a guide.”

A new silence followed those words, while both men drew the consequences of information. Marcelo said finally.

“Then it means Teresa is in their hands... in the best of cases.”

“Do not we draw early conclusions and hope the best. At this time we cannot do much more."