When The Jaguar Sleeps: A jungle adventure (8 page)

At first the Frenchman did not react, then sat up and began to laugh loudly.

‘Don’t freak out, I was just pulling your leg. You’re easily fooled.’

‘This is supposed to be a joke? You must be out of your mind. It’s not funny at all, just stupid. Some distorted French kind of humour.’ He rammed his fist into Didier’s shoulder, and then in another fit of anger pushed him violently.’

‘Leave the French in peace! You have got no sense of humour,’ Didier retorted defensively. ‘Why are you so uptight? Relax a little. We are nearly there, we will soon be out of this hell. You looked so miserable I was just trying to cheer you up. Laughter produces endorphins, happy hormones, that improve your mood and relieve pain.’

‘What a fucking good-maker you are. Stop it! Are you nuts? You’re acting like an immature teenager. Do you think that after all those dead bodies we saw something like that can make me laugh? Then you must really have a sick mind. Yes, a very, very sick mind. We do not even know yet if we will ever get out of here alive. And anyway I am not in a joking mood.’

‘Okay, okay, maybe I went a bit too far,’ Didier admitted reluctantly after a short pause. ‘There is no need to get too excited and quarrel about it now. Anyway it’s my damn bad luck to land in the jungle with a Belgian guy with no sense of humour. Although I must admit there is also one advantage to it, at least you speak French. It could have been worse,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘I heard that,’ Florent poked him again angrily.

‘Stop hurting me. Calm down! Now seriously. How do you feel? A bit better?’

‘The aspirins have helped. I think the fever’s gone down and I feel less pain, but I’m still weak. If I had something to eat, I would feel better. Anyway, I think I can manage to walk slowly.’

‘There are nuts and fruits growing not far from here. Try to get up. I will help you. We’ll go there and eat them on the spot. Come on,’ he instructed, extending his hand.

Florent grabbed it firmly and stood up with some difficulty.

‘You know something, Didier, when I was sitting here alone, I had a strange feeling, as if a few pairs of eyes were watching me,’ he confessed after a moment’s silence.

‘Maybe it was your fever.’

‘No, I don’t think so. I heard more than once the rustle of leaves as if someone was cautiously sneaking in the bushes, discreetly watching my every move. The sound was so faint I almost missed it at first. No, no, I’m sure it wasn’t just my imagination. But each time I looked I couldn’t see anything suspicious. No living soul anywhere in sight.’

‘Maybe what you heard were only some monkeys running around,’ Didier suggested, ‘or a jaguar lurking in the bushes. The Amazon jungle is his kingdom after all.’

‘No, I don’t think it was monkeys. And a jaguar hunts only after dark. He sleeps during the day. I cannot really explain it, but somehow I clearly felt a human presence.’

‘Indians? If so then why they did not approach you? Surely they weren’t afraid. Didier looked at Florent critically, slightly narrowing his eyes. ‘Actually, when I look at you, I can’t say I blame them. Dirty, unshaven and dishevelled, your skin full of scratch marks, if I just saw you for the first time I think I’d be damn scared of you, too.’

‘I just hope that it wasn’t the killers from the village,’ said Florent ignoring Didier’s critical remark. ‘Anyway, I think that after we have finished eating, we should set off without delay. I’ll try to overcome the pain and keep walking. But when I can’t stand it anymore we will have to take a break and stop somewhere for the night. You know what, I am even prepared to try some of your disgusting bugs if they can give me more strength – provided that we build a fire and roast them.’

‘Okay, but they will lose all the fat.’

‘It doesn’t matter. The proteins will remain.’

‘As you wish.’

An hour later, when they had eaten their fill and rested for a while, they set out on their journey again. After they had walked a few yards, Didier stopped abruptly and put his hand on Florent’s shoulder. His tense fingers tightened their grip.

‘Wait, do not move,’ he instructed while looking carefully all around and listening intently. His ears twitched lightly ready to pick out the slightest sound. ‘You know, like you I’ve had a strange, uneasy feeling, as if someone is tailing us and watching our every move.’

An undisturbed silence reigned around them. Even the noises of birds and monkeys had died down and there was not any living creature in sight.

‘Maybe it’s merely fatigue,’ Didier concluded finally.

They walked on for some time and then a steepish slope appeared in front of them. It would take some effort to get through the rising green bush tangle. Florent was limping just a few paces behind Didier, trying painstakingly to keep up with him. Step by step they climbed still higher up. Clammy, hot, inert air pressed their chests and they had to pause every now and then to catch another wheezing, shallow breath. Sweat constantly trickled down their faces and backs. Having almost arrived at the top of the hill, they saw a narrow path emerging from the thicket, winding its way between the trees before it disappeared on the left. Looking down at the ground Didier spotted a tiny frog - about two-inches long, dazzling blue in colour - leap out from under a big leaf and then hop across the trail. But once it had reached the other side, thickly littered with leaves, it quickly disappeared.

‘Finally, it will be easier to walk,’ Florent said after a moment’s silence.

‘At least I will not have to swing this damn machete any longer. My arms are really sore. Maybe the path leads to a village, but let’s not get excited too quickly, because we have no idea who might live there,’ Didier warned.

‘Surely Indians, who else? At last. They will certainly help us, won’t they?’ Florent breathed a sigh of relief.

‘I would not be so sure. It could be a wild tribe that has never seen a white man. I admire your optimism after all we’ve come through. But we better watch out.’

‘As usual, you are preparing yourself for the worst. You think they’d want to kill us? Why? Try to rob us? I would willingly give them everything we have if they would just help us to get out of here. Well, maybe not the golden amulet,’ he added after a short pause. ‘And I have not heard that there are cannibals in this part of the jungle.’

‘What if it’s not Indians but drug cartel people? Let’s be careful until we make sure who it is and that there’s no danger, nothing to worry about.’

Having slowed their pace a little, they continued marching, watching cautiously and listening anxiously for any unusual sound. The narrow track of beaten-down earth was covered with a fairly thick carpet of leaves, partially decayed from too much moisture. It ran straight on for some time and then began to wind gently down. Lined with stunningly lush vegetation the path was quickly transformed into a sort of vibrant green tunnel. On both sides, there were large black twisted trees, spreading unrestrictedly their long, knotted and gnarled branches, often overgrown with moss and vines, invading every empty space. In some places innumerable thick strings of liana stems were draping the trees, hanging limply from the highest boughs, falling vertically down to the ground in veil-like misty black curtains. Overhead, huge palm leaves, deep-green philodendrons and jade-green ferns were dangling in the air, giving deep shadow like giant umbrellas.

Then they started to feel mud underneath their feet. A wet, swampy area stretched all around them now, rising slightly and then falling down once more, every now and again crossed by shallow streams. They found themselves climbing and then sliding down on the wet ground, often sinking so deep in the sticky reddish-brown mud that afterwards they could barely pull their legs out.

Suddenly Didier turned around and grabbed Florent’s arm tightly, stopping him in his tracks.

‘Look! I can see footprints, can’t you? It’s obvious that no bare feet made them but somebody wearing boots. What’s more, he must have passed here quite recently,’ he whispered hoarsely while studying the ground. ‘Oh, look over there, the whole area is trampled with footprints.’

‘It looks as though there were at least a dozen people,’ Florent agreed in an uncertain voice. ‘It can’t be Indians. Wearing shoes? So deep in the jungle?’

R
ain began to fall, at first a steadily pelting shower, then a torrential downpour. The whipping veil of rain changed the jungle landscape making it look even gloomier and darker. Florent and Didier were soon drenched to the bone, but they were glad to let the cool water soothe their weary bodies. Soon the inert, stifling air became a little more crisp, making it easier to breathe.

Then suddenly the rain stopped. The dripping leaves glistened as timid sunbeams managed to break through the piled-up leaden clouds above. Innumerable shallow puddles dotted the path ahead. They trudged slowly on, their feet sending sprays of muddy water or sinking into mud. Occasionally the large slippery body of a snake would glide noiselessly and smoothly between gigantic roots towering above the ground, or along twisted tree branches. Everywhere small leeches wriggled in the wet earth.

Water came gushing from all corners of the jungle. Trickles at first, then rivulets which swelled later into wide, dirty streams that flooded the path. The temperature rose rapidly and soon the air was hot and stifling.

Here and there, small fluffs of white, semi-transparent fog were lingering in the air. The forest vegetation thinned out slightly and the path widened. It was winding along a valley – on the right was a high, vertical rock wall densely covered with bushes and trees, and on the left, gently undulating lush green slopes shrouded in a translucent mist.

Immediately, out of nowhere, appeared intrusive swarms of mosquitoes. Their continuous buzzing mingled with the joyful singing of birds. Then a swift loud flutter of wings startled the two young men. They turned to see a flock of parrots with richly coloured feathers in a mix of blue, yellow and red fly rapidly past.

Now that the fever had dropped, Florent felt a bit better. During the last few miles of their tiresome march his attention had been so focused on their surroundings and on forging ahead that he had almost forgotten about the pain in his leg. Instinctively he and Didier had the impression that they were nearing the end of their arduous journey. Although this conviction gave them renewed energy, at the same time Florent was gripped by a sensation of danger, of dark forces lying in wait for them, attracting them, forces that would decide their fate. Would they be able to escape them?

‘Listen, Didier . . .’ he began uncertainly, wanting to share his gloomy thoughts.

‘What?’

‘No, no, nothing.’ He stopped almost as suddenly as he’d begun fearing that Didier would simply laugh at him. Anyway, maybe it was just his weariness. He was no longer sure if he should take seriously what he felt, maybe his senses were misleading him.

Presently the mist thickened so much that they could hardly see anything beyond a few yards ahead. The track they’d been following veered suddenly to one side and then disappeared behind some dark shapes looming in the background. As they drew closer the shapes became more distinct and they were able to make out some granite rocky ledges still partially hidden by the lush dense vegetation.

Calmly, with a steady measured step, they approached the rocky formations. Now they were so close they could touch them with their outstretched arms. Didier stared, his eyes wide open in disbelief and amazement. What he was looking at was not a work of nature. He reached out and stroked the precisely cut and perfectly polished stone blocks in front of him as if to reassure himself that they were real. They felt wet and icy cold to the touch. The
huge chunks of granite fitted
together so well that not even a knife could
be inserted
between them. It was obvious that the construction had been shaped by human hand and probably formed the walls of an immense building.

They followed the stone blocks and eventually came to an opening leading to a long passageway. They entered it and found themselves walking through a pleasant coolness emanating from the stone walls. The passage led to several rectangular-shaped rooms constructed around a vast trapezoid interconnected with other passages and narrow winding corridors. The floors of the interiors were partly covered with granite slabs, and partly overgrown with lavish vegetation. There were shady ferns and wet mosses, and some powerful tree roots that had forced their way between some of the rocks. Florent and Didier moved from room to room, criss-crossing the vast, rocky maze, looking closely at each new structure emerging from the mist.

‘Frankly, it is absolutely amazing, said Florent, breaking the stunned silence. ‘This is something ancient. I wonder how they managed to cut these huge granite blocks so evenly, and polish them so smoothly, achieving such a perfect fit. And with only their hands.’

‘It’s extraordinary,’ Didier agreed. ‘Do you think we have found some lost city of the Incas?’

‘It could be. These ruins look like the Pre-Columbian constructions,’ Florent said. ‘I studied history and was especially fascinated by the Inca empire. It was one of the main reasons why I came on this trip to South America. I can hardly believe it but it could be the legendary city of Paititi. Many people have tried to find it but always in vain. It would be miraculous if we have stumbled upon it.’

‘What? Partitia? Never heard of it,’ Didier said.

‘Paititi,’ Florent corrected him. ‘It was probably the last capital of the Incas. Its name in Quechuan means Homeland of the Jaguar Father. ‘Let me tell you,’ said Florent enthusiastically, eager to show off his knowledge on the subject.

‘At its height, the great Inca empire covered present-day Peru, Ecuador and parts of Bolivia, Colombia, Chile and Argentina, with its capital at Cuzco. The Incas called their country Tahuantinsuyu, which in Quechuan roughly means Land of the Four Corners.

‘When the great ruler Huayna Capac died in 1527, when there was a smallpox epidemic, the empire was divided between his two sons: the older one, Huascar, controlled the southern provinces from Cuzco, and the younger, Atahualpa, the northern ones from his capital in Quito. Atahualpa, however, wanted to rule the whole country and unleashed a bloody civil war which ended in the drowning of Huascar.

‘The victorious Atahualpa set off with his people on the long journey to Cuzco. Along the way, he stopped in the Peruvian city of Cajamarca, setting up camp just at its outskirts. There, the news reached him that some white, bearded strangers from across the sea had appeared in the north of his empire. It was a small group of Spanish conquistadors led by Francisco Pizarro. The new Inca ruler agreed to meet them. Meanwhile a force of some one hundred and eighty Spaniards marched to the region. Arriving in Cajamarca, Pizarro and his men greeted Atahualpa in the town square.

‘The Inca leader, a figure of impressive splendour, was accompanied by several thousands of Inca warriors. Then, without warning, the soldiers of Pizarro came out of hiding and killed all the Incas. Atahualpa was captured, put in chains and imprisoned in one of the buildings of the city. He offered to buy his freedom by proposing a lavish ransom of gold, silver and jewels and called for them to be conveyed to Cajamarca. Once he’d received the first part of the ransom, Pizarro, convinced the rest would soon follow, ordered his men to kill Atahualpa.’

‘Okay,’ Didier interrupted Florent’s tale. ‘But there is one thing I don’t understand. Why didn’t the Incas not try to free him from his prison?’

‘Because Atahualpa had told them not to attempt any rescue. He had his own plans. He made friends among the Spaniards. Wishing to win Pizarro’s favor he even went so far as to give him one of his sisters to be his wife, the one that after becoming a Christian was called Inés Huaylas Yupanqui. Can you imagine she was just a fifteen-year-old girl then, and Pizarro was fifty-six. However, the old man never married the Inca princess officially. He made her his mistress and had with her two children.

Atahualpa had been sure that the Spaniards, once they’d received the ransom, would set him free. Well, he was wrong. At the end of August 1533 Atahualpa was led to the main square of the city, tied to a pole and then strangled with a garrotte. His death marked the end of the great Inca empire.

‘At the news of the execution of their leader,’ Florent continued, ‘the Indian troops heading towards Cajamarca with the second part of the ransom fled into the depths of the tropical rainforest together with their valuable burden and, according to legend, settled in the mysterious city of Paititi. Neither the Spaniards nor anyone else could ever find the Homeland of the Jaguar Father, despite numerous expeditions to search for the city. But everyone thought that it was located somewhere east of the Andes, in the rainforest of south-eastern Peru, northern Bolivia, or even in the Brazilian Amazon basin – but not in Ecuador.

‘Later, legend had it that the fabulous treasures meant to be the price of Atahualpa’s freedom were hidden somewhere in the Ecuadorian jungle along with his body, which was stolen by the Incas from the Spanish burial ground. Other rumours said that the treasure was thrown into a mountain lake or was hidden in some inaccessible cave. The truth is no one really knows exactly where to look for it. Apparently, before his death, Atahualpa cursed the gold of the Incas: any white stranger who dared to touch it would be the subject of great misfortune. ’

Didier found himself hanging on every word of Florent’s account, completely fascinated by the whole story.

‘Go on! Intriguing story. So interesting, the way you tell it. You know so many details. And what about Pizarro?’

‘Pizarro? You mean his conquests? As for his amorous ones, soon after the death of Atahualpa he left Inés and took another lover, also an Inca princess. You won’t believe who it was.’

‘Who?’

‘Atahualpa’s principal wife at the time of his death.’

‘What was her name?’

‘Her name? As a matter of fact she had two different ones. Her original name was Cuxirimay Ocllo, but after accepting the Christian faith she changed it to Angelina Yupanqui. She was only ten years old when she married Atahualpa, just a child.’ Florent paused for emphasis, then continued. ‘ And she was his cousin. Since the royal Incas - to ensure the purity of the royal bloodline - married close family members. Angelina Yupanqui was a very young girl, when Pizarro made her his mistress. He had with her - like with Inés - two children. As for his other conquests, the military ones, he quite quickly conquered the capital of the Inca empire, Cuzco, but soon moved from the Andean highlands to the coast of the Pacific Ocean, where in January 1535 he founded the present capital of Peru, Lima. The very city, where six years later he was brutally assassinated. It happened in his governor’s palace while he was eating dinner.’

They decided to move on, still marvelling at the masterful construction of the buildings. Didier, with an architect’s eye, captured all the details.

Because of the dense fog and the thick vegetation they were unable to assess the size of the area – were there just a few buildings or was it a whole city? It was possible that the stone ruins stretched for miles. Having heard the story of the hidden Inca treasure Didier gawped with even greater interest at all the intriguing stone shapes that were constantly emerging in front of them. Some were covered with strange, incomprehensible drawings and geometric patterns partially overgrown with moss and lichen. The omnipresent fog hanging over the place gave it an aura of mystery and enhanced the impression of dream-like unreality.

At one point, Florent pushed through a curtain of lianas and found himself standing in front of two huge statues with a bizarre sculpture at the top resembling the face of a half-man, half-jaguar. The stone from which they were made was porous and moss-covered and vines coiled around like countless snakes. He stared at them for a long time, nearly holding his breath in amazement.

‘I had never expected we would make such a wonderful discovery,’ he heard Didier say from behind his back. ‘I wonder what lies under some of these stones and if anything else remains intact from this lost civilisation.’

‘Magnificent. Really fantastic,’ Florent agreed. ‘But unfortunately it also means that the path does not lead to any settlement. It is obvious that no one lives here,’ he said as the realisation hit him that their hope of finding help and leaving the jungle maze had just shattered like a soap bubble.

***

More than a dozen yards behind the first few buildings they saw another startling structure. Huge, evenly cut granite blocks, that must have been polished hundreds of years ago, were stacked on top of each other in the shape of a pyramid; judging roughly some sixty feet high. But it could have been much higher. Impossible to tell exactly because its top was obscured by the mist-shrouded canopy of trees. A broad, steep staircase led up to it. They searched but there was no sign of an entrance anywhere. Maybe it was only at the top of the stairs. They did not dare to check because the stone steps, covered in moist moss, slick lichen and some other plants, looked like a treacherous climb. Florent and Didier were stunned by the evidence of a once great civilisation. Setting off again they came to another man-made path, a hard-trodden soil track partially covered with flagstones. The path was bordered on both sides with broken shrubs; freshly chopped leaves and twigs looked as if they had been attacked with a machete.

‘Look! We are not the first people to have discovered this place,’ Didier remarked. ‘Someone was definitely here before us, quite recently.’

‘Could it be archaeologists? Do you think they conducted some excavations here?’ Florent wondered, slightly uncertain, but also filled with a spark of hope. ‘If so, perhaps we are saved after all.’