Free Caribbean by James A. Michener Page A

horde of gold pieces which through the years he had hidden from offerings made to the temple, and in the middle of the night they set forth.
    The men who owned the big canoe they would be using for the important first leg of their journey were not happy about venturing south in darkness, but since they had taken such trips twice before they knew that disaster was not inevitable, so when Bolón took from his bag four cacao beans, the canoe men grabbed them and started paddling.
    As the rowers strained at their oars through the quiet night, with gentle water from the Caribbean lapping at the sides of their canoe,Ix Zubin revealed her plan: “There is something of importance you must see at Tulúm,” and she explained how they would go south to Tulúm, then to Chichén Itzá before going to Mayapán.
    Bolón was not really listening, for her reasoning was so personal and mystifying that he could not follow it; his attention was on the musical, mysterious sea, that strange body of water that he had never before ventured upon, and it captivated him: “Why don’t we build really big canoes and explore this great body of water?” and Ah Nic gave the answer that had been given for the past thousand years: “We’re land people. We know nothing of water like this,” and he told Bolón of how adventurous it had been, many generations ago, for the Maya to quit the land which was their home and make the bold leap across water to Cozumel, a distance of not much more than eleven miles, with land visible at all times: “It was a brave act, and many of those first people died still convinced that catastrophe must overtake them because they had broken with tradition by crossing water to an island.” Ah Nic enjoyed giving such explanations.
    “Would you have that same fear about venturing into that sea out there?” and the way in which Bolón phrased his question revealed that he thought of the waters they were traversing as safe, because land was visible throughout the starry night, while that “other water” would be terrifying beyond belief once the reassuring land had become invisible.
    His mother confirmed this fear: “When Grandfather first took me down to Tulúm in a canoe like this, four big men paddling, I was sure we were heading for the end of the world. And I can tell you, I was relieved when we climbed back onto safe land.” Chuckling at her fears, she added: “As for venturing out there, I’d be terrified.”
    “So would I,” Ah Nic agreed.
    It was only about forty miles from the departure point at Cozumel to Tulúm, and since waves could be high and progress slow, it was not until dawn of the second day that they approached the temple area. As the two sailors beached their canoe, the occupants could look up and see some forty feet above them the grim outlines of a fortress tower unlike anything on Cozumel. Poised on the edge of the sea, it appeared to shout a warning to those down below: “Do not attempt to assault the city I guard, for we are impregnable!”
    When they had bade their paddlers farewell and climbed the steep slope to the town they found the impression of defense intensified. Once more they faced something Bolón had not seen before: the entirecentral area of forts and temples also was enclosed within a massive unbroken stone wall twice as high as a man and unbelievably thick. It did contain several portals, and when the pilgrims passed through the one nearest the landing, they saw a collection of many temples lined along a main street running east to west, the whole creating a strong sense of order, with the homes of ordinary citizens scattered far outside the walls.
    But the three had inspected only one temple when Ix Zubin expressed her disgust at the sloppy, inartistic manner in which the edifices had been built: “They’re as gross and brutal as our Chac Mool.”
    Tulúm had been built in the days when Maya glory was fading, when architects were content to use rude chunks of rock on which