The nun sat back down, took a sip from her glass, and leaned against the chair, while Hans tasted his own drink, grimacing at the burn of the rum.
"According to Mayan tradition," the nun began, "Hun-Hunahpú was an ancient hero who was taken to the underworld and sacrificed by the lords of death." Hans kept his eyes on the Mother Superior, who paused to draw on her cigar and release the smoke before continuing. "His head was hung upon a tree, and from it sprang a lineage that eventually defeated the lords of Xibalbá."
"Interesting..." Hans murmured, intrigued, his mind lingering on the thought. "And according to Mayan cosmology, where was the head of Hun-Hunahpú placed?"
"It was set upon a gourd tree, at the center of the world, surrounded by the four Bacab brothers, as a warning to those who dared to disturb the lords of Xibalbá again."
"And who were the Bacab brothers?"
"They were four deities who held up the vault of heaven: Hobnil in the south, Cantzicnal in the east, Ho'Chanek in the west, and Zac-Cimí."
"The north," Hans interrupted, hastily reaching for his satchel. He rummaged until he pulled out an old map, which he spread across the Mother Superior's desk. She watched him with curiosity.
"Part of the objective evidence of your audit?" she asked dryly.
"One of many discoveries," Hans replied, studying the map, and the Mother Superior leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with interest.
"It says here 'the four Bacab brothers.' Those are the cardinal points... therefore, Zac-Cimí was a point of reference." Hans traced it with his finger.
"Perhaps that is why, on your medal, there appears Zac-Cimí on one side and the figure of Hun-Hunahpú on the other. As if both were joined into a single reference," the Mother Superior said.
Hans frowned.
"My medal?"
"Forgive me once again, but when you were treated for your injuries, we could not help but notice the medal you wear around your neck. Another family heirloom?"
"Indeed," he admitted, pulling it over his head. "I have always had it... And what could it possibly have to do with my medal?"
The Mother Superior took the pendant, turning it between her fingers as she examined the engravings.
"Here it is. On one side, the glyph of Zac-Cimí, the northern Bacab, lord of cold winds and of death. And on the other..." She turned it, letting the light from the window illuminate the relief. "Hun-Hunahpú—the sacrificed father whose sons avenged him."
"And who were his sons?"
"They are the twins, Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué, whose myth is tied to the ritual ball game."
Hans caught his breath. He stared at the map, then placed both hands upon it as he analyzed its markings. He picked up a quill from the Mother Superior's desk and, as though speaking to himself, began to draw lines.
"If the tree is located where the forces of the Bacabs converge..." He circled the point where the Temple of Hun-Hunahpú was noted. "Then if we transpose this to the current plan, the ruins lie at the center, surrounded by the four temples dedicated to the cardinal deities..." He drew two intersecting lines across the map, uniting the cardinal points. At the northern point lay a circle marked as the sentinel, and at the center stood the temple. The Mother Superior followed his motions intently, while Hans stroked his chin, continuing: "And, according to the report's notes, from the center Hun-Hunahpú greets the Bacabs... Which would mean that, if there are pyramids at these points, they will guide us to the temple of the Skull God."
"Your reasoning sounds quite logical," the Mother Superior replied. "Curiously enough... no missionary ever reached the temple."
A shiver ran down Hans's spine.
"Indeed. The Jesuit explorers only discovered a single Bacab pyramid," he said, his eyes shining.
"Congratulations, Father von Lübeck. You may already know your true origin."
Hans stood, inhaling deeply to steady his Jesuit composure.
"I am intrigued that it was once the subject of study within the Company," he remarked.
"Years ago, it was the object of pursuit for every kind of adventurer and explorer," the nun explained. "It is said the place is inhabited by specters and demons, and that none who enter return alive. Others whisper it is filled with treasures and secrets... but in the end, they are local legends."
Hans gazed at the map's quadrant.
"What lies to the east?" he asked.
"Mérida." Said the mother superior.
"Closer to this point," Hans said, circling a mark to the east.
"There is Bulukak... but as far as I know, there is no pyramid there. Merely a small village of natives."
Hans pressed his lips together, disappointed.
"And what answers are you truly seeking?" the Mother Superior asked.
Hans swallowed, clearing his throat uneasily.
"Well, I wish to know why it was once a subject of study for members of our Order."
The Mother Superior smiled knowingly.
"Once again, I admire your dedication... But perhaps it is curiosity about how all of this connects to you?"
Hans fell silent, swallowing hard. He was about to answer when she raised her hand, smiling with quiet understanding.
"You need not explain yourself. I only ask that you take care. The jungle is rife with dangers, especially now, in these times of unrest. Today it was a jaguar—tomorrow, it could be worse. At the very least, allow yourself to be guided by the locals."
"I am grateful for your counsel. I have already lost much time in the jungle. I have decided to make for Mexico City. I shall accept your offer to at least be escorted to the royal road, that I might reach Campeche safely."
"A wise decision. Some secrets are better left to sleep the eternal sleep."
At that moment, the bell began to toll, calling to prayer. The Mother excused herself and withdrew, inviting Hans to retire to the cell that had been prepared for him, that he might rest and be ready to depart at dawn the following day.
******
It was already night when the church bell rang again, while the nuns recited the office of Compline, before the whole community retired to rest and the Great Silence was imposed. After the prayers—heard by Hans as a low murmur—the chants of the nuns rose, intoning the Marian hymn: Alma Redemptoris Mater.
Hans, perched high in the bell tower, gazed at the horizon through his spyglass. A refreshing breeze brushed his face, carrying with it the scents of the jungle. The silvery light of the full moon illuminated the night sky and revealed, in the distance, a dark mass. Taking advantage of the coolness of the night, Hans swept the uniform line of the horizon, searching for any rise or break that might betray the presence of a temple.
After a while, he lowered the spyglass and decided to descend—only to come upon the Mother Superior, who stood in the corridor smoking her cigar.
"Well, did you discover any sign?" she asked, cigar between her lips.
"The horizon is as flat as the ocean," Hans replied.
"If your theory is correct, you will need a temple of one of the Bacabs... but God alone knows what became of them. Many were destroyed, or lost entirely, devoured by the jungle."
"I see... it was only simple curiosity."
"Curiosity killed the cat... do not forget it," the Mother said, finishing her smoke. Hans was about to withdraw when she called him back.
"Brother Hans."
The Jesuit turned and walked back to her.
"One of our sisters has asked me to tell you something; of course, it is meant in confidence."
Hans regarded her with intrigue.
"Our Sister Claudita, the infirmarian, has always had a certain gift for seeing things... and she asked me to pass along that, according to her, she sees a shadow walking behind you."
Hans was taken aback, especially hearing such words from a religious. As a Jesuit, trained in a skeptical and scientific environment, he could not easily accept such things. Yet the supernatural was no stranger to his family, and the spiritual world was not unknown to him. Despite himself, a chill ran down his neck, and he turned instinctively. The Mother Superior smiled.
"Do not worry, we are people of faith. Nothing can assail us," said the nun, trying to calm him upon seeing his reaction.
"Does Sister Claudita know what shadow it is?" Hans asked.
"She says it might be a Kisin—demons that dwell in the jungle or among the ruins. That is why the locals avoid entering abandoned temples. But it may be something else entirely. I only tell you so that you remain cautious, Father. At times we must have great faith not to be swayed by such spirits... spirits we may even be carrying from our own ancestors."
The Jesuit pressed his lips together at these words. The Mother Superior took a final draw on her cigar.
"Tomorrow, very early, Paquito, our steward, will wake you to set out for the royal road. Best that you go to rest," she said.
Having spoken, she began to withdraw, but paused and turned back to the Jesuit.
"We've added a new machete for your journey... you will need it."
"I do not think I shall need it—I am only going to Campeche," Hans said with a smile.
The Mother Superior smiled in return.
"One never knows when it may serve. May God accompany you on your journey... wherever your path may lead," she said, bowing before taking her leave.
The nun departed, leaving Hans in the corridor, thoughtful over her words. A cool breeze roused him from his musings, and he hastened to his cell to sleep, that he might be fresh for the long road. He removed his cassock to rest more freely in the warmth of the tropical night, but before lying down, he made sure no shadow lurked about, and chose to leave the candle burning.
As he lay down, he clasped the medal in his right hand and held it tightly. He prayed the Pater Noster in Latin, then ended with a prayer his grandmother used to teach him when, as a boy, he feared the darkness, the storms, or the ghosts of the Ketzerische slain in the last war, which she swore haunted the woods around Castle von Lübeck:
"An i bellon i taure a i orod, úva-nin, a tiron nin bo i lend naid."
(By the gods of the forests and the mountains, guard me and guide me along the right path.)