Lord Of Zaracus

The men greeted her in a friendly fashion, and she had a few words with Tom Revie before seating herself beside Bill Anderson.

‘How did you sleep?’ he asked, and she smiled.

‘Now I wonder why you should ask that,’ she said, lightly. ‘Do I look a physical wreck or something? There’s a shortage of mirrors around here, so I don’t know.’

Bill grinned. ‘No, you don’t look a physical wreck,’ he said. ‘You know you look great, as usual.’

‘Why, Bill! I do believe that’s a compliment,’ she teased him, and he flushed, and bent his head to his meal.

The men all seemed to favour the English breakfast, but Carolyn was relieved to find only toast and fresh orange juice beside her plate. The butter was too soft to be really enjoyable, but Bill said that she was lucky to have toast on any terms. Tortillas were the Mexican substitute for bread.

After breakfast, Professor Madison came across to Carolyn. ‘I’m going up to Don Carlos’s hacienda,’ he said, solemnly. ‘I think it might be a good idea for you to come with me. That way we can get the apology and the explanation all over in one fell swoop.’

Carolyn twisted her fingers together. ‘Have you to go? I mean, you’re not just going because of me?’

‘No. I have to go. Don Carlos has kindly given us the use of a large salon at the hacienda in which we can store all the valuable finds we make. I go up there from time to time to continue with the illustrated inventory I am making. I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me with this.’

Carolyn looked interested. ‘Oh, really? How good! I shall like having something to do.’

‘Good. I’ll just have a word with Don and then we’ll go.’

The drive to the Alvarez home took them along the borders of the tumbling, restless river which seemed deeper and wider now that they were on a level with it.

‘Much of the transport around the state is done by river steamer,’ remarked Professor Madison. ‘I believe much of the adjoining states is completely unnegotiable except by air and river steamer.’

‘Is that a fact?’ Carolyn was impressed. ‘It seems incredible in this day and age to be so out of touch with civilisation.’

‘Parts of Yucatan are still completely unexplored,’ said the professor. ‘There may yet be ruins of other Mayan cities lying hidden in the thick jungles.’ He sighed. ‘If I were a younger man, I should try to get an expedition up to explore more of central America. I find these almost prehistoric tribes, living in circumstances which have not changed for thousands of years, completely fascinating.’

Carolyn shook her head. ‘Well, I’m glad you can’t go,’ she averred, firmly. ‘There are head-hunters and cannibals among these tribes. I should be terrified you might not get back alive. I should imagine dozens of explorers have disappeared without trace.’

‘I expect many have disappeared, but imagine, Carolyn, what they may have seen before they were—well—possibly killed.’

‘I can’t see that anything like that could be worth losing your life for,’ exclaimed Carolyn.

‘Maybe not. You’re a woman.’ The professor laughed. ‘I suppose you are also one of these creatures who abhor bull-fighting.’

‘Bull-fighting? I’ve never really thought about it. I once saw one, in Madrid. It was nauseating.’

‘You see,’ the professor laughed. ‘You haven’t the stomach for it. I mention bull-fighting because here it is very popular. In Mexico City there is the largest bull-ring in the world.’

‘Of course.’ Carolyn nodded. ‘The Spanish influence. I didn’t think of that.’

‘Don Carlos has bred bulls for the bull-ring himself,’ went on her father. ‘He has also fought the bulls.’

‘Don Carlos!’

‘Yes. Do you find that surprising?’

Carolyn looked thoughtful, recalling Don Carlos’s tall, lean, hard body. There had been something savage and untamed about him. A kind of leashed violence which was not in keeping with the cold hauteur he had adopted when she had dared to defy him.

‘No,’ she said, now, shivering a little for no apparent reason. ‘I should imagine he could be cruel, and no matter what you say, fighting bulls is a cruel pastime.’

The professor chuckled. ‘I would hardly call dicing with death a pastime,’ he remarked, dryly. ‘However, as we’re almost there, we’ll leave that discussion for another time.’

The track was winding through semi-cultivated land now, through narrow stretches between the plantations. Then they emerged into the open for a moment before entering tall iron gates and penetrating a belt of tropical trees that was the entrance to the Alvarez hacienda. The scent of jacaranda was almost overpowering, and then Carolyn had her first glimpse of the huge Spanish-designed dwelling. Below the house, lawns and gardens provided a profusion of colour, while the perfumes of the flowers were heady and sensual.

The Land-Rover halted at the entrance to an inner courtyard, and Carolyn slid out, looking up at the colonnaded façade. Tiling of many-coloured mosaics caught the sunlight, and she was impressed. Through the arched entrance to the inner courtyard, she could see a central fountain spilling its sparkling contents into a shallow basin.

Professor Madison came round the Land-Rover to her side. ‘Well?’ he said, softly. ‘What do you think?’

Carolyn shook her head.

‘Not exactly what you expected, is it?’ he persisted. ‘What did you expect anyway? Mud huts?’

Carolyn smiled. ‘No, not that. But this is such an isolated spot. One can’t believe such a place exists. It’s like a small palace.’

‘It is beautiful,’ agreed her father, preceding her through the archway. ‘Come on. It’s even better inside.’

Carolyn followed him more slowly, looking about her with interest. The house was built round the central courtyard with balconies to the upper windows. There was a profusion of wrought ironwork and jalousies and shady cloistered arches. Carolyn supposed that was the Moorish influence. She had been in many beautiful houses—stately homes and town dwellings. But never had anywhere completely enthralled her as this place did. There was the bright sunlight, glinting on the fountain, the scent of the flowers, the song of the birds, and the plaintive sound of a Spanish guitar echoing round the secluded courtyard.

She became aware of another presence, and swung round to find her father being greeted by Don Carlos. Today he was dressed in a dark-grey lounge suit, his linen startlingly white against the dark tan of his skin. His thick straight hair had been combed smoothly, but still persisted in lying partly over his forehead. He looked cool and immaculate, and completely sure of himself. In consequence, Carolyn felt a wave of inadequacy sweep over her, and felt a succeeding wave of annoyance follow it. Why should she feel inadequate? She had known plenty of men, and none of them had succeeded in making her feel like this. After all, no matter how important he was in Mexico, he was only a man, after all!

Only a man! Carolyn swallowed hard. He was certainly that. She had never known any man emanate such an aura of masculinity, and when his cool grey eyes turned on her she felt young and rather gauche. She knew her father was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to apologise as she had said she would. But suddenly, she felt rebelliously like forgetting her promise. She remembered how he had crushed the beetle in the shower, and her colour deepened.

With a sigh, she walked across to them. ‘Don Carlos, this is my daughter, Carolyn,’ her father was saying, and Carolyn halted and allowed her hand to be shaken in a cool, hard grip. She snatched her hand away as soon as she could, and said:

‘I—I suppose I should apologise, Don Carlos. I’m afraid I was very rude, the last time we met.’

The man’s eyes narrowed a little, and she saw that his lashes were long and thick, veiling his expression. ‘I’m sure you were overwrought after your journey,’ he answered, smoothly, although there was no warmth in his voice.

Professor Madison looked relieved. ‘That is true,’ he said, quickly. ‘And now, I suppose I should apologise for bringing Carolyn here without asking your permission.’

Don Carlos shrugged his broad shoulders, and Carolyn saw the muscles ripple beneath the expensive material of his suit. She didn’t know why but she was aware of everything about this man, and the knowledge was not gratifying.

‘I think we will talk much better over coffee,’ remarked Don Carlos, suavely. ‘Come. We will go to the library.’

Carolyn walked with her father following the man into the building through the wide glass doors. They were now in a mosaic-tiled hall with a wide marble staircase at one side, the balustrade an intricate design of white wrought iron. Don Carlos led the way across the hall, through another archway and into a long narrow room, lined with books, wide french doors opening on to a veranda which overlooked a wide stretch of glistening water.

‘Oh, the lake,’ exclaimed Carolyn involuntarily.

Don Carlos pressed a button on the desk in the centre of the room, and then turned, looking at Carolyn’s animated expression. ‘Yes, Lake Magdalene. This is your first sight of the lake, Señorita?’

‘Yes.’ Carolyn recovered her composure. ‘It’s very beautiful.’

‘And not so appalling, Señorita?’ he murmured, softly, so that her father who was again lighting his pipe could not hear.

Carolyn stared at him, and then unable to bear the unconcealed contempt in his eyes, turned away. Professor Madison had noticed nothing amiss, and a white-coated servant arrived with a tray of coffee and thin bone china. When the servant withdrew, Don Carlos looked at Carolyn.

‘Will you attend to the coffee?’ he asked, his tone bland again.

Carolyn wanted to refuse, but instead she nodded, and seated herself beside the tray, asking them their preferences for cream and sugar in a tight little voice. Were it not for her father she would tell Don Carlos Fernandez Monterra d’Alvarez exactly what she thought of him!

She was not offered a cigarette, although Don Carlos helped himself to a thin cheroot, and she felt about in her pocket for her own. Finding them, she drew them out and put one between her lips, searching about for her lighter. Don Carlos and her father were discussing the storm the night before and its possible effects on the dig. Carolyn thought she was completely unobserved, but then a gold lighter was flicked and a light applied to the end of her cigarette.

‘Thank you,’ she said, fuming, and her host merely shrugged and resumed his interrogation of her father.

She looked about her for something to do, avoiding looking in their direction. The veranda outside the french doors was very inviting, and she wondered whether the Alvarez family swam in the lake. There was bound to be a private path giving them access.

And then she found herself looking into a pair of mischievous dark eyes which were peeping round the corner of the door. Carolyn smiled in spite of herself, for she was sure she would never like any member of this family, but the eyes were irresistible. Set in a piquantly attractive face that was much too thin, surrounded by long black hair plaited into two thick braids, the girl was obviously very young.

Surreptitiously Carolyn got to her feet, but the movement attracted Don Carlos’s gaze again, and he said: ‘Ah, Elena, I thought it was you.’ He smiled, and Carolyn stared at him, momentarily hypnotised by the transformation of his lean features. His teeth were white and even, and he was startlingly attractive. Then she forced herself to look away, back at the girl who had now tentatively entered the room, and stood just inside the doorway. She was dressed in a dark-green dress which looked much too old for her, and far too long, and Carolyn thought that in younger, shorter clothes she would be very pretty.

‘This is my sister, Elena,’ said Don Carlos. ‘Elena, this is Professor Madison, and his daughter Señorita Madison.’

‘Hola,’ said Elena, smiling. ‘Welcome to the Hacienda Alvarez.’

Carolyn’s eyes widened. ‘You speak English,’ she said, involuntarily.

‘All my family have been educated in the United States,’ said Don Carlos, smoothly. ‘Unfortunately, Elena has been ill and can no longer attend school there. Instead, she has a governess.’

Carolyn looked at Elena with gentle eyes. She did look pale and delicate, but her eyes belied any lack of spirit.

‘Where is Señorita Alfonso?’ asked Don Carlos, now. ‘Surely you should be at lessons.’

Elena laughed irrepressibly. ‘I saw the professor and his daughter arrive through my window,’ she confessed. ‘I wanted to meet Señorita Madison. We so rarely have any young visitors to the hacienda, Carlos.’

Don Carlos relaxed a little. ‘So now you have met the Señorita, you will return to your lessons, yes? Or Señorita Alfonso will be very cross.’

Elena wrinkled her nose. ‘But the señorita cannot be interested in your dull talk, Carlos. Could I not show her the pool, and the lake? And maybe the gardens?’

Carolyn looked at Don Carlos rather sardonically. Now what would he say?

‘I think, Elena, that the señorita will soon be leaving with her father. Besides, I am sure she is not particularly interested in our estate.’

‘Oh, but you are wrong, Señor,’ returned Carolyn, silkily, enjoying the opportunity of getting her own back. ‘I should love to see the pool and the lake and the gardens, and I am sure you and my father are not nearly finished your coffee, yet. I have.’

Don Carlos gave a reluctant nod of his head. ‘Very well, if that is what you wish, Señorita.’ He looked at Carolyn’s father. ‘I trust you have no objections, Professor.’

‘None at all.’ Professor Madison smiled. ‘But before Carolyn leaves, perhaps you could tell me whether her presence here in the valley is to be permitted.’

‘Permitted?’ exclaimed Elena. ‘Why should it not be permitted, Carlos?’

Don Carlos compressed his lips for a moment. ‘Elena, you know nothing about this at all. Please refrain from interrupting.’ He looked at the professor thoughtfully. ‘I cannot deny that such a permittance is against my better judgement, particularly as the valley is full of men, and I do not really think an archaeological dig is the correct background for a young person like your daughter. After all, she is little older than Elena, and I would not allow Elena to live with a crowd of older men even were I myself present. However, I must accept that the habits and conventions of your society are not as ours, and therefore if you are prepared to take all responsibility for her remaining here, I cannot raise any further objections.’

Carolyn fumed. ‘I should point out that I am a little older than Elena,’ she exclaimed, unable to prevent herself.

‘Indeed.’ He sounded disinterested.

‘Indeed, yes,’ exploded Carolyn, and then seeing her father’s face, she compressed her own lips, angrily.

Elena had watched this exchange with some amusement, and she said; ‘Can we go now, Carlos?’

He merely nodded his head, and Carolyn shrugged at her father helplessly and followed Elena from the room. Quite honestly she was beginning to feel exactly like a contemporary of the young Elena’s. Whether it was wholly Don Carlos’s attitude, or whether the shedding of her sophisticated clothes was responsible, Carolyn didn’t know, but what she did know was that Don Carlos’s attitude towards her was one of tolerance, mixed with derision, the kind he would reserve for a spoilt and precocious child.

CHAPTER THREE

OUTSIDE the two girls walked along the veranda until shallow steps led down to the grassy expanse that in turn gave on to a flight of steps leading down to the lakeside. Elena eyed her companion with some admiration, and said:

‘You are not afraid of my brother, Señorita?’

Carolyn was annoyed to find her cheeks burned suddenly. ‘No. Should I be?’

Elena shrugged. ‘I am not afraid of him, but it is usual that he intimidates strangers. He is not an easy person to know.’

Carolyn smiled. She thought Elena’s mode of talking was far in advance of her years, and she said: ‘How old are you, Elena?’

‘I am fourteen years of age,’ replied Elena, precisely. ‘And you?’

Carolyn shrugged. ‘Well, actually, I’m twenty-two, but in your brother’s eyes about sixteen, I imagine.’ She hunched her shoulders, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her pants. ‘Let’s forget about that for the time being. Tell me about your life here. Who is this Señorita Alfonso? Your governess?’

‘Yes. But she is so old!’ Elena grimaced. ‘She was Carlos’s nanny when he was a child, and that is many many years ago.’

Carolyn laughed. ‘Oh, not so many, surely.’

‘At least thirty-seven,’ replied Elena, her eyes wide.

‘You see, Papa married twice, and my mother was not Carlos’s mother; his mother was wholly Spanish. My father met her in Estoril when he was only eighteen. They were very much in love, but unfortunately she died when Carlos was born. Our father married again, I think to give Carlos the security of a complete home. Poor Carmelita, that was Carlos’s mother’s name. She could not stand the climate here, and in those days the valley was not so prosperous as it is today. Carlos has a helicopter, and he even owns a small aeroplane. It is as necessary here as a motor-car in your country. Much of this area is completely closed to traffic.’

Carolyn nodded. ‘I see. And your parents?’

‘Oh, both Papa and Mama died in an airliner when it crashed on its way to Mexico City. These mountains are treacherous. No one could survive such a disaster. That was eight years ago now. Since then Carlos and Rosa have taken over the estate. Rosa is my older sister. She is almost as old as Ramon. He is my brother. There are four of us, you see.’

‘I see.’ Carolyn nodded again, thinking that possibly this was one of the reasons Don Carlos had not wanted her to spend any time with Elena. She was a chatter-box and cared little for conventions.

They reached the foot of the steps and now Carolyn could see a boathouse and a landing stage, and further round, a diving platform. The lake looked cool and inviting, and as the sun rose higher and the day grew hotter she thought how delightful it would be to swim in its depths.

She looked down. It looked deep, even at the rim. ‘Do you swim?’ she asked Elena.

Elena shook her head. ‘Not in the lake. I am not allowed to do so since my illness. But I swim in the pool. It is always warm. The lake is icy.’

Carolyn smiled. ‘It sounds gorgeous! It gets so hot here. Does—does your brother swim in the lake?’

She asked the question compulsively. Despite her averred dislike of Don Carlos Fernandez Monterra d’Alvarez she found she was curious about him. Maybe because in other circumstances she could have found him a challenge. It would be a satisfying feeling to have him attracted to her, desiring her, and being able to subdue that arrogance scornfully.

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