Gold of the Gods (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

A huge smile lit up Uncle Al's face as Beck
and the twins tripped over themselves in
their hurry to climb the steps onto the
podium when the speeches had finished.
Mayor Rafael was surrounded by an
enthusiastic group of VIP guests, but Uncle
Al could hardly wait to speak to the three
excited teenagers.

'Keeping it all a secret from you was my
toughest assignment so far, Beck, young
man,' he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
'But my good friend Mayor Rafael insisted.
They do things differently here. Walls have
ears. Mum's the word and all that. Get my
drift?' He tapped the side of his nose and
raised an eyebrow at his nephew.

Out of the corner of his eye Beck could
see the twins staring at Uncle Al as if he had
been speaking in Ancient Arabic.

'I hope you're taking us with you to find
this Lost City, Uncle Al,' said Beck when at
last he could get a word in edgeways.
'Sounds a lot more exciting than our last
trip.' He and Uncle Al had set off into the
wilderness together on what should have
been a routine expedition to study the
remains of the ancient Nubians of Sudan.

'Especially when it's the city that's lost
rather than us,' he added archly.

'OK, OK, enough said, young man,'
Uncle Al said hastily, winking at the twins.
'Can't win 'em all. Lost the plot. Lost us
too.
Mea culpa. Dorkus maximus
, et cetera.'

'I hope these two young rascals are
looking after you well, Beck,' said a booming
voice with a thick Spanish accent. Mayor
Rafael had extricated himself from the
crowd of VIPs and was striding across the
stage to join them. He towered over the
twins as he proudly put an arm around each
of them.

'They were just about to tell me about
your ancestor Don Gonzalo and the Lost
City, sir,' said Beck, still a little overawed by
the larger-than-life figure of Don Rafael.
The mayor was dressed in his official
uniform, sporting a bright purple sash and a
hat that looked like it had last been worn by
one of Gonzalo's conquistadors.

'Dad thinks he's Gonzalo, don't you,
Dad?' said Marco.

'That's why he became mayor,' said
Christina, smiling wickedly at her father.
'Just so he could dress up in funny clothes.'
She paused and gave her father a nudge in
his stomach.

'But Beck wants to know whether we can
join the expedition to find the Lost City,
don't you, Beck?' she went on, nodding
frantically in Beck's direction.

'Well, no . . . I mean . . . well, actually,
yes, sir,' stumbled Beck.

Just then a loud gong sounded, drowning
out the mayor's reply. At the same time an
officious-looking man in dark glasses and a
peaked cap covered in gold braid appeared
by the mayor's shoulder and whispered
something in his ear. Beck noticed a long
scar down one side of the man's face; his
forehead was beaded with drops of sweat.

Mayor Rafael frowned slightly, as if the
policeman's words had annoyed him, before
breaking into a forced smile and speaking to
Beck.

'It appears we must be moving on,' he
said. 'Ramirez here says I must be ready to
start the fireworks promptly at seven p.m.
and we're already a little late. Your uncle and
I need to . . . er . . . press the flesh, I think
you English say. Beck, why don't you enjoy
the carnival with the twins for a while and
join us for the fireworks later?'

Leaving the mayor and Professor Granger
with the sinister-looking Ramirez, Beck and
the twins made their way out of the hotel
into the scrum of carnival-goers. 'Follow us
if you can,' bellowed Marco above the din.
'We're making for the church on the other
side of the square. There's something you
must look at. It will explain a lot about the
Lost City – you'll see!'

The carnival was now in full swing and
Beck abandoned himself to the ebb and
flow of the huge crowd. At times he felt as
if he had been tossed into the sea and was
bobbing along like a cork on the waves.
Everywhere he looked, magical sights
caught his eye and his brain clicked and
whirred like a camera on motordrive.

On stalls all around the square, street
vendors were selling slices of sizzling meat
cooked on hot bricks and wrapped in palm
leaves. Piles of fruit lined the walkways
and immaculately groomed white horses
high-stepped elegantly past.

In the centre of the square a street
performer, his face masked in white chalk
and his lips the colour of cherries, was mingling
with the crowd. He was a mime artist,
silently copying the movements of unsuspecting
passers-by. Beck laughed out
loud as the man swayed his hips in time to
an unsuspecting young señora in a polkadot
dress.

When the three teenagers finally reached
the far side of the square, Beck looked up at
the ornate façade of the Church of the
Blessed Virgin. Its gold-painted spires
glinted in the evening sunshine and a finely
carved statue of the Madonna and Child
gazed serenely down at them from an alcove
above the giant wooden doors.

At the top of a sweeping stone staircase,
Beck recognized the distinctive features of
the conquistador, Don Gonzalo. The statue
had clearly been copied from the oil
painting hanging in the ballroom of the
Hotel Casa Blanca.

'Don Gonzalo has the best view in the
square,' laughed Christina. 'Dad once took
a picture of me as a baby, sitting on his
shoulders during the carnival. I'm not sure
the old boy could manage my weight these
days. His head would probably break off.'

'There are many legends about our
ancestor,' said Marco. 'No one knows for
sure what's true and what isn't. But we do
know that in 1512 Gonzalo was the captain
of the first ship to land in South America.
Not far along the coast from here. The
descriptions in the old books make it sound
like paradise. Coconut palms and white
sand stretching as far as the eye could see.
The conquistadors probably wished they'd
packed their surfboards. But somehow I
don't think Don Gonzalo would have had
much time for beach bums.'

'At first they thought the whole coast was
uninhabited,' continued Christina, 'but
then they found tracks in the forest and
realized that there were people living here
after all. The people we know today as the
Kogi.'

'The who?' asked Beck.

'The Kogi,' Christina explained. 'They're
an Indian tribe who live down the coast in
the forests of the Sierra Nevada. A bit
like the Maya and the Aztecs who Cortés
discovered in Mexico. But the Kogi were
never defeated by the conquistadors and
they still live in the mountains, just like they
did in the old days. We're taught about
them in school, but we rarely see them.
They're very shy and don't like to mix with
the people in the towns.

'They knew how to make gold jewellery
like the Aztecs,' Christina went on. 'But to
them gold wasn't like money is for us. It was
offered in sacrifice to their gods. They
buried gold objects in the ground at their
holy sites or threw them into holy lakes.
That's where the conquistadors got the idea
of "El Dorado", the City of Gold.'

'So let's get this right,' said Beck, looking
quizzically at the twins. 'Your great-great-great-
great-great-grandfather, or thereabouts,
arrived on the coast and went
searching for El Dorado in the mountains
where the Kogi Indians were living.'

Marco nodded and looked Beck straight
in the eye. 'When Gonzalo found the city,
he only had a few men with him, so he
returned to Cartagena to mount another
expedition. But before he could return, the
Indians abandoned the city and changed the
pathways through the jungle so Gonzalo
was never able to find it again. He took his
revenge by burning down one of the Kogi
villages. He died soon after. Some say he
was poisoned. But the only thing we know
for sure is his last words.'

The twins pointed to a coat of arms
carved into the plinth at the base of the
statue of Don Gonzalo. Beck read out loud
three words carved into the stone in an elaborate
gothic script.

'
Perdido. No. Más
. What does that mean?'

'
Perdido no más
,' echoed Marco. 'The
family motto. It means "Lost No More",
but why Gonzalo said it when he couldn't
find the Lost City again, nobody knows.'

'You say he was poisoned,' said Beck.
'Who by?'

'Maybe other conquistadors who wanted
to find the gold from the Lost City. Perhaps
even the Kogis. Some say he may have been
under a Kogi curse. No one knows for sure,'
replied Marco.

Beck's head was spinning as he tried to
take in the twins' incredible story.
Meanwhile more carnival floats were still
arriving in the square. A giant effigy of Don
Gonzalo was followed by a Spanish galleon
under full sail. It was crewed by raven-haired
beauty queens in sparkling bikinis hanging
precariously from the masts, smiling and
waving to the crowd.

Then a tidal wave of applause broke over
the square. By far the biggest effigy Beck
had seen so far was making its grand
entrance. A giant papier-mâché toad
painted a livid emerald green was being
squeezed through a ceremonial arch into the
square. But its bulbous mass was so huge, it
quickly became wedged and could not be
moved.

Volunteers standing nearby joined in an
ungainly bout of pushing and shoving but
were unable to shift it. Then, much to the
crowd's amusement, a gang of Elvis look-alikes
hurriedly dismounted from the float
behind and started to manoeuvre it through
sideways.

The toad finally burst into the square, its
vast stomach sagging over the front of the
float like a sumo wrestler's and its two huge
legs straining under its bulk like immense
balloons. The eyeballs bulging from the top
of its head reminded Beck of the headlamps
of an articulated lorry. 'Kermit, eat your
heart out,' he muttered under his breath to
no one in particular.

'There's also something else you should
know,' Christina was saying, smiling
broadly. Pointing down to where the toad
was at last being pushed into pride of place
in the centre of the square, she paused for
effect. 'He's also on our coat of arms.'

'A giant toad?' said Beck. 'You'll be telling
me Mickey Mouse had something to do
with all this in a minute.'

'
La rana,
the toad, is an important part of
the legend,' Christina explained. 'She's the
fertility goddess of the Kogi Indians. The
Kogis believe that if it weren't for her
protection, all the gold from the Lost City
would have been stolen. And then the
jungle and the Kogis – in fact the whole
world – would have come to an end. That's
why both Gonzalo's effigy and the toad
goddess form a central part of the carnival.'

'So the Lost City is more than just a Lost
City for us,' added Marco. 'It's part of our
family history too. That's why Dad wants to
find it so much. And to do that he needs
your uncle. Someone who understands the
Indians and their culture. Otherwise he
thinks he may suffer the same fate as
Gonzalo.'

Beck's head was reeling. The closing fireworks
display was due to begin in half an
hour and there was no time for any more
questions. Marco was already leading the
way down into the crowd again so that they
could take up their positions with the VIPs
on the platform on the other side of the
square.

'Stick close,' he shouted over his
shoulder. 'We should just make it in time.'

Darkness was already falling and paraffin
torches were being lit in preparation for the
evening's entertainment. The crowd had
become more raucous and Beck could smell
aguardiente
, the fiery local spirit, on the
breaths of the more rowdy members.
Shadows quivered and danced along the
walls around the outside of the square.

And then Beck saw him. Or, to be more
exact, he felt the man's eyes boring into him.
It was as if a laser beam were being shone
straight into his heart. The Indian was wearing
a white woollen tunic and on his head
was a pointed cap. Thick dark hair hung
down to his shoulders in braids and his eyes
were so bright that a light seemed to be
shining behind them.

At first Beck thought that the man might
be begging, but there was something in his
bearing and the expression on his face,
neither smiling or frowning, that was too
dignified for that. And his eyes were so
mesmerizing that for a moment Beck felt as
if he were walking around inside his head
and could read his thoughts. Beck was
conscious now only of the rhythmic beating
of the drums and the flickering shadows in
the square. Suddenly, without ever once
shifting his gaze, the Indian walked right up
to him and whispered the words in his ear
three times:

'
Perdido no más
.'

Then Beck passed out.