“Ask whom?” Olaf demanded. “There is no one to ask.”
“There must be people living here,” Erik replied “We will talk to them.”
“I have my ax and a strong right arm,” Olaf declared, rising to his feet and sliding down the face of the large rock. “They are the only bargaining tools I need.”
Erik and Neil hastily jumped to the ground beside Olaf.
And at that moment there was a rustling in the woods. Six men burst into the clearing, spears thrust before them. Erik and Neil turned to scramble up the face of the rock again, but six more spear bearers had climbed it from the other side and were standing on top of it now, their sharp weapons ready.
The spear bearers clutched the spear shafts tightly, their eyes hard and unfriendly. They were short men, none of them very much over five feet, but they were well-proportioned and heavily muscled where their arms showed. Their coloring varied, the skin of some being almost pure white, while that of others was the color of light chocolate. Their hair was long and black, coarse, and grew low on their foreheads.
They had large, dark-brown eyes, small ears, and broad noses. Their jaws protruded, and they stood squat before the trio, watching them from hostile eyes.
Suddenly Olaf gave a wild scream and reached for the ax hanging from his belt. He tore it loose and raised it over his head, screaming wildly all the time. Then, like a loosed beast, he burst forward, the ax raised.
Before Olaf had moved a foot, Erik’s fist lashed out and his powerful fingers tightened about the other Norseman’s wrist.
“They are armed,” Olaf shouted, but as Erik twisted, Olaf opened his hand and let the ax drop to the ground.
The spearsmen watched the scene with interest, their eyes flicking from the red-bearded captain to the short, squat Norseman.
Erik probably realized that they were three men pitted against an armed group of twelve, and peace was the only way out of this situation. To this Neil heartily agreed. Undoubtedly there were more Mayas where these came from. He began thinking of the bigger stakes involved, the chances of getting home, and more than before he understood the necessity of maintaining peace with these men.
These were not ordinary citizens, he figured. They were, more likely, professional soldiers strung about the city for the special purpose of protecting their people from unwelcome visitors.
Unlike Erik, the Mayas were clean-shaven, their skins bright and shining. Covering their bodies, starting at their necks and ending below their knees, was a cotton quilt that probably served as armor against the crude weapons of the day.
These weapons, Neil saw, were many and diversified.
Each of the Mayas carried a spear with a pointed blade of what seemed to be sharp, dark glass. Other weapons were also visible among the soldiers. Several carried swords of hardwood, into the sides of which were set blades of the same dark glass. Others carried slings and pouches that probably contained stones. Some of the soldiers carried something that looked very much like a top with a string wound about it, and Neil surmised that this, too, was a weapon. They all carried shields, some square, some round, all covered with deerskin.
Slowly, carefully, Erik unbuckled his ax and dropped it to the feet of the nearest Maya, The man stepped back nimbly and looked to a fellow soldier, with confusion clouding his face.
The other soldier put up his spear and moved closer to the ax.
This is their leader, Neil thought. This is the manwoe must deal with.
The leader had a long scar stretching down the length of his face. It crossed the ends of his lip and twisted his mouth sideways, in what appeared to be a comical grin. Neil knew he wasn’t smiling, though.
The soldier poked at the ax with his spear point, and then stooped to pick it up. He was surprised at its weight as he lifted it. His fingers went to the blade and rested there, his eyes widening in respect of its keenness.
Quickly he turned and shouted an order at one of the other soldiers, who stepped forward and picked up Olaf’s ax. This he presented to the scarred leader, then rapidly returned to the place he had left in the spear-bristling circle.
The leader barked an order to another soldier, who stepped forward and placed his shield on the ground. With puzzled brow, his teeth clamping his lower lip where the scar crossed it, the leader lifted the ax to test it, and then brought it smashing down on the deerskin-covered shield.
The shield splintered into a hundred flying pieces of wood and hide. A general outburst went up from the Mayas, and the leader beamed from ear to ear, his smile threatening to flow all over his ruddy face. He turned then and said something to Erik.
“What does he want?” Erik asked Neil.
“I-I don’t know,” Neil answered. In desperation, he faced the scarred leader and asked, “Habla usted español?”
The scarred lips clamped shut again, and the eyes expressed bewilderment.
Slowly, painstakingly, the Maya leader repeated something in his own tongue, and waited for a response.
“What did he say?” Erik asked.
“I don’t know. But he looks kind of angry because we’re not answering.”
The scowl deepened on the scarred face. Angrily, the leader shouted another order, and the Mayas began to close in, their spears ahead of them.
“Friends,” Neil said frantically. “We are friends.”
The leader of the band frowned again and raised his hand. Immediately the soldiers stopped advancing. He studied Neil closely.
“Friends,” Neil repeated, almost making it a question this time. “Let’s show him what we mean.” he said to Erik.
He grasped Erik’s hand and began to shake it. “Friends, see? Big friends. All big friends. Shake hands, see?” He grinned at the Maya soldiers, feeling quite foolish at his own antics.
Erik grinned too, his teeth flashing behind his brilliant beard. He pumped Neil’s hand vigorously and then threw his arms around him and caught him to his chest in a bear hug.
“Gee whiz, Erik,” Neil protested. “You’re Strang- hey, for Pete’s sake!”
“Smile,” Erik muttered through clenched, glistening teeth. “Smile, Neil.”
Neil beamed as Erik released him and took his hand again, squeezing it tightly, threatening to rip his arm from the socket.
Olaf stood by, obviously displeased with all this nonsense.
Neil smiled graciously at the Maya leader and extended his hand. “Friends?” he asked.
The dark eyes clouded in the scarred face, and the leader stepped back cautiously, away from Neil’s extended hand.
Neil shook hands with Erik again. “Friends,” he said.
He turned to the scarred soldier once more and held out his hand.
“Friends?” he repeated.
The soldier’s face changed a little, and a flicker of understanding sparked in his eyes. His mouth began to edge upward at the corners as he stepped forward cautiously. He stopped and said something to another soldier. The other soldier nodded his head vigorously and answered the leader.
Neil kept his hand outstretched and said, “Friends.”
Slowly, the leader of the band took another hesitant step forward, his spear ready. He stood several feet away from Neil, and leaned over, extending his hand in cautious little spurts of movement. His eyes were on Neil’s-large and brown.
Suddenly they crinkled at the corners and the Maya’s twisted mouth split into a wide grin. He extended his hand fully, ready to grip Neil’s in friendship.
And at that moment, Olaf decided to ram his heavy shoulders into one of the Mayas and make a break for the forest!
Chapter 8
The Enemy Strikes
Olaf’s shoulder struck the bewildered Maya with considerable force. The Maya struggled to keep his balance, using his spear the way a tight-rope walker uses a balancing pole. In spite of his efforts, he flopped unceremoniously to the ground as Olaf leaped over him and sprinted for the protection of the trees.