The Rogue Wave by Paul Nicholas Mason

Author:Paul Nicholas Mason
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Now or Never Publishing
Published: 2021-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“What will you do now?” Fernando asked.

“I’m not sure,” said Matthew. It may be that I’ve learned everything I can learn here. If Pedro was telling the truth, I think I need to go to England. Do you think he was?”

Fernando thought for a moment. “I think he said what he believes to be true,” he said finally. “But the video man may have lied to Pedro’s cousin.”

“I know,” said Matthew. “That’s my dilemma. They could have stayed in Huajuapan. They could be right here in Oaxaca City. They could be in—I don’t know—Hogshollow, Alabama. But I think I have to go to Salisbury.”

“Is there a Hogshollow in Alabama?” asked Fernando.

“I’ve no idea,” said Matthew. “But while we’re here I’d like to look around this place. How do you feel about exploring for a couple of hours?”

“I’m happy to see it again,’ said Fernando.” I cannot give you a proper tour, but I can tell you what I remember.”

“Excellent,” said Matthew.

The two set out together, climbing first a small set of stairs, then ascending a slope, then passing under huge laurel trees. There was a choice of paths at this point, one apparently leading to their destination in a relatively gentle but roundabout fashion, while the other required climbing a steep set of steps. They opted for the steps, traversed a grassy verge for a time, then discovered that they had reached the lip of a hill looking down on a vast central plaza. The plaza had buildings ranged around its perimeter, and there were also four large structures in its centre. Matthew was rendered almost speechless by the scale of the place: it was, in fact, a city—a city built two-and-a-half millennia ago, carved out of a mountain top, filled with carefully-engineered buildings, all accomplished, apparently, with hand-tools and human sweat. “I had no idea,” he said to Fernando. “No idea at all.”

Fernando nodded. “They were violent,” he said, “but they weren’t primitive.”

They went down another set of stairs and entered the central plaza, this new vantage point allowing them to understand the scale of the achievement from another angle. Matthew tried to imagine the place bustling with people, and was not surprised when Fernando told him that at its peak the complex probably accommodated twenty-five thousand people. “This was a political and ceremonial centre,” said Fernando. “It was like Mexico City now, or Washington, or London.”

“Or Ottawa,” said Matthew with a smile.

But Fernando took him seriously. “Yes, like Ottawa,” he said, “but an Ottawa where the churches were important. The priests here were very powerful. We think that this was a centre for rituals—that the rituals were why it was built in the first place.”

“Well,” said Matthew, “there’s still a strong ritual aspect to many of the things we do in modern societies.”

They walked around the plaza, reading the explanatory panels on some of the buildings, then climbing another flight of steps to reach the highest point on the site, gaining, in the process the best view they’d had yet on the plaza, and, looking the other way, of the Oaxaca Valley below.

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