Heart of the World

by H. Rider Haggard

There were forty of these men or more; for the most part they were tall and well shaped, with regular features, and, like Zibalbay and Maya, very fair for Indians, but the look upon their faces was different from any that I have seen among my people. It was not stupid or brutal, or even empty; rather did it suggest great weariness. The youngest man there, notwithstanding his rounded cheeks and eyes full of health, seemed as though he were weighed down by the memories of many years. Weariness was the master, not of their bodies, for they were very strong and active, but of their minds; and, looking at them, I could understand what Zibalbay meant when he said that his race was outworn. Even the sight of the white face of the señor, strange as it must have been to them, did not seem to move them. They stared indeed, muttering something to each other as to the length and colour of his beard, and that was all.

But to Zibalbay they said, in low, guttural tones, “Father, we salute you,” then, at a signal given by their captain, they cast themselves upon the ground before him, and lay there with outstretched arms as though they were dead.

“Rise, my children,” said Zibalbay. Then, summoning the captain of the bearers, he talked to him while his companions ate food that they had brought with them, and I noted that what he heard seemed to give him little pleasure. Next he ordered us to enter the litters, which were of rude make, being constructed of chairs without curtains, lashed between two poles, and carried, each of them, by eight bearers, for the road was very steep and rough.

We started forward down the mountain, and in an hour we had left the region of snow behind, and entered the cedar forests. These great trees grew in groups, which were separated by glades of turf, the home of herds of deer. So thick was their foliage that a twilight reigned beneath them, while from each branch hung a fringe of grey Spanish moss that swayed to and fro in the draught of the mountain breeze. Everywhere stretched vistas that brought to my mind memories of the dimly-lighted nave of the great cathedral at Mexico, roofed by the impenetrable boughs of these cedars, whereof the trunks might have been supporting columns and the scent of their leaves the odour of incense.

After the cedar belt came the oak groves, and then miles of beautiful turf slopes, clothed in rich grass starred with flowers. Truly it was a lovely land. It was late in the afternoon before we descended the last of these slopes and entered the tract of alluvial soil that lay between them and the lake, where the climate was much warmer. It was easy to see by the irrigation ditches and other signs that this belt of country had always supplied the inhabitants of the City of the Heart with corn and all necessary crops. Here grew great groves of sugar-cane, and cocoa-bushes laden with their purple pods, together with many varieties of fruit-trees planted in separate orchards. Soon it became clear to us that the greater part of these ancient orchards were untended, since their fruit rotted in heaps upon the ground. Evidently they had been planted in more prosperous days, and now their supply exceeded the wants of the population.

At length, as the evening began to fall, we entered the village of corn-growers, a half-ruined place of which the houses were for the most part built of adobe or mud bricks, and roofed with a concrete of white lime. In the centre of the village was a plaza, planted round with trees, and having in its midst a fountain, near to which stood a simple altar, piled with fruit and flowers. Close to this altar the inhabitants of the village, to the number of a hundred or so, were gathered to meet us. Most of the men had but just come in from their labours, for their garments and feet were stained with fresh earth, and they held copper hoes and reaping-hooks in their hands. All these men wore upon their faces the same look of weariness of mind which we had noticed in the bearers. So monotonous were their countenances, indeed, that I turned my eyes impatiently to the group of women who were standing behind them. Like their husband and brothers, these women were very fair for Indians, and handsome in person, but they also had been stamped with melancholy. The sight of the señor’s white skin and chestnut-coloured beard seemed for some few moments to rouse them from their attitude of listless indifference. Soon, however, they fell into it again, and began to chat idly, or to play with and pull to pieces the flowers that every one of them wore at her girdle. There were hardly any children among the crowd, and it was strange to observe how great was the resemblance of the individuals composing it to each other. Indeed, had they all been members of a single family it could not have been more marked, seeing that it was difficult for a stranger to distinguish one woman from another of about the same age.

When Zibalbay descended from his litter, all those present prostrated themselves, and remained thus till, followed by some of the headmen, he had passed into a house which was made ready for his use, leaving us without.

“Do all your people look so sad?” I asked the Lady Maya.

“Yes,” she answered, “that is, all the common people who labour. It is otherwise with the nobles, who are of a different blood. Here, Don Ignatio, there are two classes, the lords and the people, and of the people each family is forced to work for three months in the year, the other nine being given to them for rest. The fruits of their labour are gathered into storehouses and distributed among all the Children of the Heart, but the temples, the cacique, and many of the nobles have their own serfs who have served them from father to son.”

“And what happens if they will not work?” asked the señor.