Hans awoke, gasping for breath. The first thing he saw was a ceiling of sturdy beams supporting a wooden coffered roof. Around him stretched the whiteness of limewashed walls. Then he noticed the plump face of a nun watching him gravely.
"Sister, he is coming back," the nun said.
At that moment, another, older nun entered. She examined Hans and checked his eyes.
"He will survive…" she said. "Sister Claudita, prepare an herbal infusion soaked with rum and lemon."
Hans looked around; he was lying on a cot.
"Where am I?" he asked, confused.
"You have an angel watching over you, brother… You are in the convent of Santa María de los Ángeles of Xkan-Ha," the nun replied. "I am Sister Jacinta Madrigal, the mission's doctor. This is Sister Claudita, who serves as the infirmary nurse."
"How did I get here?"
"A group of Maya had gone fishing for mojarras at a cenote, where they found you floating… and brought you here," the doctor explained.
Hans drew a deep breath and felt a sharp pain in his head.
"It hurts, as if it had been crushed," he muttered.
"Try to rest… you suffered a heavy concussion when you fell."
Sister Claudita returned with a cup and handed it to Hans.
"Drink this brew; it will help calm you… We found it very strange to see a Jesuit in these parts," the doctor remarked.
"I got lost in the jungle…" Hans said. "I didn't know where I was."
"No more talking… just drink," ordered the doctor.
The Jesuit fell asleep shortly after drinking the medicinal brew.
******
When he had regained his strength, the Jesuit rose and stepped into the corridor. A faint dizziness still lingered from the blow and the medicine, and for a moment he steadied himself against the wall. A little bell rang for prayer, its sound mingling with the sisters' chants and the chirping of birds in the orchard. He walked beneath the cloister's arcades until he came upon a nun scrubbing the floor, aided by Sister Claudita, who was mopping the stone pavement.
"Father, are you feeling better? You shouldn't be standing," Claudita said with a smile.
"I feel much recovered. Forgive me, Sister, but—my satchel?" asked Hans.
"The Mother Superior has it," she replied.
A short nun with a severe face and spectacles entered and greeted him.
"We are glad to see you on your feet," she said.
"Thank you for everything," Hans answered. "I would like to thank the Mother Superior personally."
"Of course. She is in her office—I shall take you to her."
The sisters watched the Jesuit depart. Suddenly Claudita drew in a breath and pressed a hand to her chest.
"Ah, Jovita…" she murmured.
"What is it?" asked Sister Jovita, intrigued, her mop dripping in her hand. "Are you seeing something?"
"I do not know… but something slipped along the corridor, following the Jesuit. And it seemed to notice that I was watching it."
"Blessed Virgin… could he have crossed paths with a Kisin?"
"Perhaps that was what caused his accident at the cenote. And since it failed in its intent, it is still following him."
The two nuns crossed themselves and went on with their chores.
Hans, meanwhile, was led into the Mother Superior's office. She was absorbed in a book, but at his entrance she set it aside and rose to greet him with a smile.
"Ah, Father, I hope you are feeling better," she said, gesturing for him to sit. "The Lord protects you. That fall could easily have cost you your life."
"I still feel somewhat dazed," Hans admitted as he lowered himself into a wooden chair with leather seat and back. "I thank God for bringing me here, Mother. I am indebted to you and to the natives who rescued me."
"With a little rest you will be as good as new, ready to continue your journey. I am Mother Superior María Inés of the Sacred Heart."
Hans smiled. "I am Hans von Lübeck, of the Society of Jesus."
"Deutsch?" she asked with curiosity. "Aus welchem Teil Deutschlands stammen Sie, Vater?"
"Meine Familie stammt aus dem Oberrheingebiet, in der Nähe des Schwarzwalds," Hans replied.
"Interesting. And what is your formation?" she inquired.
"I studied at the Jesuit Gymnasium in Münster, and later pursued philosophy and theology at Dillingen in Bavaria. And here I am, in Yucatán. But tell me, Mother—how is it that you speak German?"
The Mother Superior reached for a bottle of rum, poured two glasses, and offered one to Hans. He smiled at the gesture.
"I speak German, French, English, Latin, and Greek. I am passionate about learning; I love books, science—everything that has to do with knowledge. As for my past life… believe me, I was once a lady at the court of Naples and Sicily." She raised her glass and drank. Then, took a cigar from a wooden box, she lit it at a candle burning before an image of the Virgin. Smoke curled as she drew deeply. "My late husband, may he rest in glory, was a squadron captain in the Spanish navy. But one day he fell in one of the endless wars against the Barbary corsairs. Perhaps that was my calling. I entered a convent in Rome, and fate brought me to these lands. And here we are, you and I."
She exhaled another plume of smoke and gave him a sharp glance.
"But tell me, Father von Lübeck, where exactly are you headed? It is unusual to see members of your order in these parts," she asked.
"I am headed to San Francisco of Campeche. I was stationed for a while at the mission of San Ignacio of Chenutialbak, auditing the books as part of a requirement from the new Provincial Father of New Spain, Father Horst María von Reichenbach."
"Impressive," said the Mother Superior, drawing on her cigar. "You must have fine credentials to receive such an important appointment at so young an age."
"The Provincial was my theology professor in Dillingen," Hans replied, taking a sip of rum. "He asked me to assist him as an auditor, since he is particularly interested in the province's financial condition—and, of course, in detecting possible misappropriations of funds."
"But somehow you ended up at the bottom of a cenote? Was that part of the audit as well?"
Hans smiled at the irony in her tone.
"As part of my findings, I came across certain expenditures listed under the category of Apostolic Orders, or OA."
"Apostolic Orders? Do you mean directives from the Pope himself? Or perhaps the Archbishop of New Spain?"
"From what I was told, they were special expeditions intended to establish missions in the region, to which considerable sums had been allocated."
"Missionary orders?" The Mother Superior arched a brow. "This is Franciscan and Dominican territory. I believe you are the only Jesuit who has dared to venture into the jungle."
Hans drank again.
"With that in mind, I asked for proper evidence: letters, decrees, any ecclesiastical documents to justify the expeditions and their expenses. Nothing. Only a stray report I uncovered in an old file. That was why I decided to conduct a field audit of the areas in question. And that is how I became lost."
"How surprising," she said. "You Jesuits are usually meticulous. Forgive me, but it gives the impression that something is being hidden."
"That is exactly what I want to uncover—what those expeditions labeled OA were really after."
She smiled at his resolve.
"A bold choice. Allow me to say I admire your zeal as an auditor. Still… you could have lost your life."
"I know. Perhaps I pushed too far in wanting to understand the findings and verify the diversions. But I have learned my lesson."
"A little too much risk, don't you think? Had the fishermen not found you, you might already be an offering to the old gods. I'll see that one of the boys escorts you to Campeche, so you don't lose your way again."
"Thank you. By chance, do you still have my satchel?"
The Mother Superior smiled and pointed toward a leather bag resting in the corner.
"You were fortunate, Brother. It snagged on a branch that kept it from sinking."
"Thank heaven," Hans murmured, rushing to retrieve it. He let out a sigh of relief as he found its contents intact.
"Brother von Lübeck, forgive my curiosity," said the Mother Superior, watching him check over his instruments and papers. "But I noticed some of the objects you carry. They appear to be navigational tools."
Hans chuckled.
"Before I became a Jesuit, I studied at the navigation school in Amsterdam—astronomy, cartography, trigonometry, and the like. I grew fond of those old nautical instruments and never travel without them."
"How interesting. I'm certain fate will yet make you put those studies—and those instruments—to use."
"They already helped me cross the jungle," Hans said wryly. "Unfortunately, they failed to warn me about the cenote."
"Amen to that," she said, lifting her glass of rum in a toast before taking a pull on her cigar. "But tell me—why does a Jesuit priest travel with a book entitled The Legend of the Uncharted Island?"
Hans gave a boyish grin.
"Mother… I've always been a great admirer of adventure novels. I've loved them since I was a child."
"Balin Van Buuren?" asked the nun.
"Exactly." Hans smiled.
"I share your taste. Though I must say, his last work, Heart of the Caribbean, was rather predictable." Say the mother superior.
Hans laughed.
"A pity. Perhaps Balin had run out of inspiration. It happens to authors at their peak."
"And this novel you carry…" She nodded toward the book. "I took the liberty of reading it while you slept. Disturbing, and quite intriguing. I've never heard of this Virgilio Coppieter, but his style reminds me very much of Van Buuren."
"That was my thought as well. Would you like to keep the book? I've read it twice over already—I know it by heart."
"That wouldn't be proper," she said, though her eyes gleamed. "But I will keep it under lock and key."
Hans handed her the book, and she hid it away with a conspiratorial smile.
"Now, about the Mayan codex you carry," she said, leaning back. "Did they give it to you at San Ignacio?"
The Jesuit smiled.
"You'll be surprised—it's a family heirloom."
"Mother of God, how did it ever reach Germany?" she asked in astonishment.
"That is a mystery," Hans admitted, drawing out the codex and passing it to her. "It had been kept in my family's library in the Black Forest. Since I first discovered it, I've been fascinated by the question of how it came into our hands…"
"Remarkable. I recognize these Mayan glyphs—especially this one here." She pointed to an image of a severed head with stylized streams of blood.
"I've always wondered at its meaning. Until, as I told you, that report I found at the mission referenced it—speaking of a lost temple tied to…"
"Hun-Hunahpú," said the Mother Superior softly.
"You know that name?" Hans asked in surprise.
"It is written here in the codex: 'Hun-Hunahpú, fallen in the House of Bats; his blood gave maize, his head gave song that still resounds in Xibalbá.'"
The Mother Superior rose, closed the door, and poured fresh rum into both glasses.
"Something tells me we'll be needing it," she said, raising her glass with a conspiratorial wink.