The Knights Templar are Back

Chapter 3.1

Upon reaching the dwelling they could see its curious construction, actually a conglomeration of disparate rooms. One part of it was made of stone and clay with a corrugated iron roof, quite common among the people of Patagonia since it gives a shelter against the harsh winters and the heavy snowfalls which prevent any contact with the outside world . Attached to that house, he had a quirky extension, larger than it, made of all kinds of juxtaposed materials without apparent order. There were there stones, plates, animal hides and sticks. The entrance was covered with a dirty cloth.

“This is the Kaukel´s"office".” Said ironically Tschudin as he approached.

“Should we not have brought gifts?” Asked Teresa addressing Emil.

“Kaukel is only interested in cash.” Replied the Swiss. “That part is very delicate, and please let me handle it. You should use a mixture of flattery and bargaining to which you are probably used.” They had reached the entrance and the Swiss pulled the rag and entered first.

“Hello Kaukel! Do you remember who I am?”

A fat old man with indigenous features and dark skin was sitting on a sheepskin, smoking a long pipe; the embers of a fire flickered sadly before him. The entire interior of the hut was flooded with an acre but not foul odor. The shaman responded positively with an imperceptible movement of his head.

Despite her experience in poor Indian villages in Yucatan and Guatemala, Teresa had to overcome an instinctive refusal to enter the house.

“Well, it seems I'm losing habit.! She thought.

Marcelo followed, feeling a strong skepticism about the information that could arise from that place.

“What the hell are we doing here?” He wondered in turn. Immediately he shook his head to ward off negative thoughts.

“¿Were you told we were coming?” Emil asked. Kaukel nodded again. He pointed at some scattered skins on the floor and invited his guests to sit down on them.

Emil began to speak without waiting that the old man took the initiative. He went straight to the point.

“Kaukel, You and I met many years ago in a Mapuche rogativa near the Limay River. Back then you spoke about ancient traditions concerning white men, men of war, who came generations ago and lived among the Tehuelches who lived in these lands.”

“ Our forefathers called themselves Tsonekas. Tehuelche is how Mapuches called us when they conquered us.” Kaukel spoke Castilian slowly and with some difficulty, but his thinking process was coherent and lucid. He made a long silence that the others respected, smoked his pipe, closed his eyes and began to speak very quietly and rhythmically phrases that sounded to Teresa like a mantra

“They were times of a powerful chief of the vuriloche tribe called Nahualpan. The white men arrived carrying metal swords and helmets, and on their clothes there were large crosses.” With his finger he drew a cross in the air before him. “ They had ... things ... that they carefully protected... ..Slowly they managed to win the trust of Nahualpan and his people, healing the sick and fighting their enemies ... ..Nahualpan gave his daughter to the chief, and the others also took wives from among the women of the tribe ...”

“So much for the Templar monks and their vows of chastity .” thought Marcelo; a sidelong glance at Teresa convinced him that she was thinking the same thing.

“ ... .. A very cold winter the tribe lacked food and Nahualpan asked them to leave the village .... they went with their families to the west and never returned .... the story goes that some Vuriloches saw them years later ... they had settled near a river.”

“Where were they seen?” Asked Emil, the only to have courage to interrupt the story. “Does the legend say it?”

“Not legend ...it is history of my people .... They went to the surroundings of the Ten Ten Mahuida ... .the sacred mountain of the Vuriloches ... .towards the west.”

“What is the river from which they were close?”

“There was a waterfall .... Women bathed there in the spring to become pregnant ... they lay afterwards with their men on the grass, surrounded by amancay flowers ... their progeny are still among us ... .. If you go to look for them beware, they are very jealous of their land and their secrets ....”

The old man fell into a state of stupefaction. It was evident that the effort to remember had exhausted him or perhaps what he was smoking had numbed him. Emil gestured with his hand urging Teresa and Marcelo to come out of the tent while he remained inside it.

“A rather unusual experience.” Said Marcelo, still impressed with what had happened in the hut. “A strange behavior. I wonder whether the healer wasn´t performing.”

“ This is not my first contact with shamans.” Answered Teresa. “Yes, there usually are phenomena of suggestion and self-suggestion of which the shamans may be unaware. And do not call him healer, note these people carry a lot of knowledge obtained by oral transmission of historical, medical, botanical and topographical nature.”

At that time Emil emerged from the tent. He waved them to stay silent until they had gone farther away from the hut.

'”Well, did he wake up?” Asked Marcelo.

“ Yes, they have brief states of unconsciousness.”

“He was probably smoking some hallucinogenic.” Said Teresa.

“'Actually I do not know. They sometimes smoke some herbs to expand their consciousness and memory.”

“Did you carry on the "financial arrangements"” Marcelo always asked practical questions.

“Yes, after a brief negotiation.”

“Good, let's share that expense with you.” Added Teresa.

“ No Swiss would ever refuse.”

“Are you…let´s say "thrifty"?”

”Let´s say frugal instead.” Answered Emil.

“Stingy.” Added Marcelo aloud.

“ Are they like the Scots?” Asked ironically the woman, no doubt thinking on her experience with her former mentor McPherson.

“ We share our Calvinist religion.”

“I belong to that group too.” Replied Marcelo. “My family comes from a Waldensian colony in the Province of Buenos Aires.”

“Then you know what I'm talking about.”

The trip back was difficult due to heavy traffic and Marcelo shared the driving with Teresa. They left Emil on the site where he had parked his car. As they separated he summoned them:

“Tomorrow in the cabin to draw conclusions from the visit.”

They were sitting around a coffee table in the cabin overlooking Lake Gutierrez. Once he had fulfilled his duties as a host Emil sat beside them.

“ Well, Emil.” Marcelo started as usual the dialogue without preamble. “What are the lessons learned from the information the healer, shaman or whatever gave us.” His skepticism was still present behind his words.

“ Actually, plenty.” Replied the Swiss. “It’s not the first time I hear of white men present in this area since ancient times.”

“ Ancient for people without written history.” Corrected Teresa. “No more than a few centuries really separate us from these events.”

“Correction accepted.” Said Emil. ”As I said, there are a number of traditions on white men crossing these areas since immemorial times. Given the lack of specific references or milestones, it is difficult to know whether it happened before or after 1492.

“Coming back to what the shaman said ..”. Asked Teresa. “ ... did he give any geographic clues. Are they of any interest?”

“I've been talking to Rachel, my wife, who, as you know, is part Mapuche. The region called Ten Ten Mahuida by Vuriloches is what is now as Mount Tronador, the highest in this area and one that actually had a sacred character for that nearly extinct tribe. The river referred should be the Manso River, either in the upper or lower reaches, and the waterfall that Kaukel spoke about is very probably what we call Cascada Los Alerces, really spectacular. In short we refer to a fairly accurate place, the Manso River and its mouth on the Lake Mascardi area.”

“Is it a very busy area?”

“The tourist zone is the road along Lake Mascardi passing through the snowdrifts called Ventisqueros Negros and reaches the base of Mount Tronador. The Los Alerces waterfall is also frequently visited by tourists. Beyond that point go especially those addicts to trekking, campers and fishermen. The route that goes to the whole area is precarious and is closed in winter.” Replied Emil.

“This is a very vast zone and leads to the border with Chile and certainly far beyond.” Reflected Marcelo.”Is there any way to limit the area to which the shaman referred?”

“ Only getting there and asking the Park rangers and the few existing settlers if they know anything about villages lost in the mountains and forests. Do not forget that the remote descendants of the Templars and their families are living there.”

“ Kaukel called them "guardians" and said they were zealous.” Argued Teresa. “What do you think he meant?”

“ I can only fantasize about that . We can suppose that the present descendants have received from their elders the task of saving the treasures to which the latter had dedicated their lives.”

“ And it is realistic to assume that these descendants have been secluded for five centuries in these mountains, dodging civilization which really is not that far away? “ Reasoned the young man.

“ Not necessarily avoiding civilization, they may have daily contact with it, and even have jobs outside their community, but as I said, I'm just fantasizing.” Emil's face revealed his determination and finally he enunciated his proposal. “I think the only way to find out is to go to the area equipped for camping and spend some time there. Do you have experience in camps?”

“ For my profession.” Said Teresa.” I have much experience, and Marcelo and I have been to several camps.”

“ You can count with us.” added the husband.” Itis a relatively short trip.”

“ To reach the area it will be an about 200 kilometers trip, which can be performed in an apt vehicle.” Confirmed the Swiss. “I do not know how much we will have to wander once we are there. Well, I'll put to work to get the necessary equipment. I estimate that in a couple of days we can go.”

“ So many preparations are necessary?”

“ Yes, Marcelo, I'll have to borrow adequate communications and mountain equipment. And of course, there is the transportation issue.”

Marcelo nodded as he reflected“ I forgot he is Swiss, and will anticipate every little detail.”

On their way back from the cabin to the hotel, Teresa had the perception that something was turning in her husband's head, perhaps triggered in some mysterious way by the adventure they were to begin; she not only perceived in Marcelo but in her own entrails. When they reached the pavement and driving became somewhat easier, the young man took one hand off the wheel and placed on her left thigh sending heat waves to her crotch. All this confirmed the state of excitation of both. They made the trip in silence, Marcelo went to park the car, as she hurried up to his room, in order to take a shower.

On leaving the bath, with a thick towel wrapped around her body she saw Marcelo had served two glasses of wine on the room coffee table, and was waiting with his n***d torso. While she dried her hair with another towel, Teresa sat in a large armchair, placing her legs on it. Marcelo sat at her feet, took a sip of wine, and put the glass on the table. Then slowly he took one of her feet, small, white, and warm due to hot water. He stroked long and then brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

“Well, it seems that we have news.” Thought the girl, surprised and pleased. Knowing that Marcelo appreciated her active role in their amorous games she slid the sole of the other foot on his face; obviously pleased he kissed it too. The scene continued in silence, and he moved with infinite slowness along her ankles, calves, knees and hocks, on which he slid his hands and lips. His wife’s slender body produced Marcelo great tenderness, and caressing her flesh excited him.

Finally he reached the edge of the towel wrapped around her body, then opened it and looked at length. Teresa knew that her husband loved her fleshy white thighs and a new wave of anticipatory burning ran through her. His kisses toured every corner of her highs and then concentrated on the inside. Teresa sat back and allowed his advance toward the juncture of her legs. She felt his body approaching her, while her body was shaking and writhing. Marcelo slowly took off his pants and slip, opened her legs and penetrated deeply his wife. The two bodies intertwined with ardor and remained united a very long time during which they climaxed in unison. Finally, they lay on the couch, exhausted and drenched in sweat while outside the windows the first snow of mid-March was softly falling in the higher parts of the mountains.

“ Captain Yaroslav, there is a call from Bariloche, Argentina. They want to talk with you.” The man who had entered the tent that protected the so-called Yaroslav from the heat and fumes of Northeast Bolivian jungle was an acolyte, an indigenous Colla and unconditional supporter of the captain. This rose from his hammock, left his tent and went to the communications station located in another tent.

“ Alo! Yes, Hernandez, I hear you loud and clear.”

“You had asked me you to report any news on  Tschudin. You know who I'm talking about?”

“ Of course. What happens?”

“ I have the feeling that he is moving again. He has met with a young couple who came to Bariloche, and vanishes almost every day for hours. He left an employee in charge of his photography store. We have not been able to track where he goes. Yesterday he went with the couple to a Mapuche village in the desert area. There they visited a sort of healer who lives in a shack. We learned that because we happened to have a "friend" in place.”

Yaroslav thought for a moment, so that the caller asked whether he was still online.

“ Yes. I need you to visit the healer and get all the information of what Tschudin and the others were seeking. Also follow the movements of these people, and if possible, get me a photo of the couple.”

“ Understood. It may be that the healer will resist talking.”

“ You will find the way of forcing him, but watch what you do. I recommend the utmost discretion. No unnecessary bloodshed.”