ABRUPTLY the gate behind Jan swung open. He sprang to his feet as four black-armored men entered, marching abreast, carrying long swords in their hands. Behind them came a file of slant-eyed, yellow-skinned slaves, naked save for breech clouts and sandals. Each slave bore an immense tray on his head, and Jan saw that some were heaped high with fruits, some with chunks of cooked meat, and some with golden-brown cakes. Following these slaves were others who bore large earthenware jars on their heads, and around whose waists cups hanging from wire hooks jingled musically.
As the gate closed behind them, the slaves carrying the trays knelt in a row, still holding them on their heads. Those who carried the jars also knelt, and set them on the ground. The occupants of the inclosure, meanwhile, hurried to form a long line, jostling and crowding each other for the places nearest the front. Then, at a shout from one of the swordsmen, they filed past the row of kneeling slaves, where each was supplied with a piece of meat, a cake, some fruit, and a cupful of brown beverage which was dipped from the jars, and which Jan afterward learned was called chocolate. The four swordsmen stood by, to see that no one got more than his share.
Jan was hungry, having eaten nothing since entering the valley. He went to one of the meat trays and was about to help himself when a swordsman shouted something to him which he could not understand, and ran between him and the tray, brandishing his weapon. Under the menace of the keen blade, Jan backed away, the guard following him chattering and gesticulating.
He was made to understand that he must take his place in the line, at the very end. So carefully had the supply of rations been computed that when Jan finally reached them, but one portion of each thing was left. With his meat, cake and fruit held in the curve of his left arm before him, and his cup of chocolatl in his right hand, he made his way through the jostling crowd. The slaves and swordsmen withdrew, and he heard the gate slam shut after them.
Suddenly a brown hand reached over his shoulder from behind and snatched his meat. With a low growl of rage, Jan whirled to confront the pilferer. But there were no less than a half dozen men behind him, each of whom might have been guilty. Each wore an innocent expression, and none seemed to have more than one piece of meat.
Enraged and disappointed at losing his favorite food, but unable to tell who snatched it, he turned away to seek a spot where he might eat the remainder of his rations undisturbed. Then a youth of about his own age stepped in front of him with a friendly smile, and tearing his own piece of meat in two, offered him half.
Jan was nonplussed. The anger surging within him made him feel like flying at any one who crossed his path. But his wrath dissolved before that disarming smile and unselfish offer. He accepted the meat, and the two lads sat down side by side to eat, neither knowing that this was to be the beginning of a friendship that would be strong and lasting.
They conversed by signs at first, but Jan soon made his companion understand that he wished to know the names of things, by pointing to or touching them and looking at him questioningly. As he was quick to learn and had an excellent memory, it was not long before he was combining verbs and adjectives with his nouns, and forming short sentences in this new language.
Weeks passed, and though many prisoners were taken away and new ones brought in, Jan and his companion remained. During this time. Jan learned the language of the yellow people, and also a considerable portion of that of their white captors, which his friend taught him.
The yellow-skinned youth’s name was Koh Kan, Koh being his given name and Kan both his family name and title. Tattooed in the palm of his right hand was a picture of a feathered serpent, done in red. This, he told Jan, was a picture of Kan, the mighty serpent, earthly representative of the Fair God, Quetzalcoatl, whose abode was in the sun, but who was expected to return some day to earth. Koh’s father, he said, was hereditary ruler of his race and High Priest of Kan, so he was Prince Koh of the House of Kan. Jan had only a hazy idea of the position of a prince, but he had noticed the great respect shown this one by the yellow prisoners, and judged that it must be quite important.
Koh said his people lived in a great city called Temukan, which was a long, dangerous journey away, beyond an immense, muddy pit in which roved terrible and gigantic monsters. They were always at war with the white people, he said, whose chief city was called Satmu, and who worshiped a number of gods. His people, he said, had but one sect and worshiped Quetzalcoatl in the person of Kan, the great feathered serpent, who was propitiated with human sacrifice—prisoners of war and convicted criminals.
The white people, he said, were divided into four sects who worshiped two gods Re and Asar; a goddess, Aset; and a demon, Set—whose earthly representative was Sebek, a very terrible living water monster. They also did homage to three minor divinities.
The Sect of Re, he said, wore gold-plated armor, or clothing of a golden yellow color—such as had first captured Jan. That of Asar wore white, and that of Aset light blue. But the Sect of Set wore black.
“You and I,” he told Jan, “have been captured by the people of Set.”
“For what purpose?” asked Jan.
“Each day,” said Koh, “you have noticed that two men are taken away, never to return?”
“Yes, I have noticed that,” replied Jan.
“They are fed to the monster, Sebek,” said Koh. “Some day we, too, shall be fed to him, as will every man in this place.”
“What is he like?” Jan wanted to know.
“There are said to be monsters like him in the great pit of mud which lies near the center of the valley, but nowhere else,” Koh told him. “His head and long jaws are like those of an alligator, but many times bigger. His body is very long, and his feet are like the fins of a fish. Here, I will show you.”
With the tip of his finger he sketched a picture of the creature he had described. Then arising, he continued: “He is said to be this long,” and stepped off twenty paces, or about fifty feet.
“But if there are other creatures like this,” said Jan, “why is it that they feed men to this one only?”
“He is selected from among the others by the High Priest,” Koh replied, “who makes certain tests to ascertain whether or not the soul of Set has descended into him. This only happens about once in five generations, as the beasts are very long-lived, and a new one is selected from the pit only when an old one dies.”
At every opportunity Jan made inquiries about Chicma, but he learned nothing until one day when a prisoner who had formerly been a slave of the golden Sect of Re told him he had seen her, and that she was kept as an object of great curiosity in the royal palace of Satmu, having been presented to the empress by the captain of a band of huntsmen who had captured her.
A few days after that, as Jan and Koh sat talking, four guards walked up to where they sat.
“It is the summons!” whispered Koh. “We are to be fed to Sebek! Farewell, friend Jan. I hope that we may meet and be friends in the next world.”
The two lads embraced, but were quickly torn apart by the guards, who hustled them away.