Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette.Volume XII

"Just a little further," Henriques said.

"Are you sure you know where we're going?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"That's what you said about the 'short cut' through the varzea."

"This is different." Near the mouth of the Maicuru, they had made a detour north, to find a small hill overlooking the Amazon. There, in a patch of upland forest, Henriques had prudently secreted a cache of trade goods and other useful items. Just in case he ever had to make a run for it.

"I wonder if this hill of yours should be considered an outlier of the Serra de Tumucumaque. According to that fabulous map of yours, the source of the Maicuru is there, about one hundred miles to our north.

"You know, perhaps we should backtrack to the Paru. We could cross the mountains over to the Litani, and the Maroni, and end up in what the map called French Guiana. Not that the French are there yet."

Henriques grunted. "Keep walking, I want to reach the cache by nightfall." The sun was just setting. And night came quickly in the tropics.

"Or perhaps," Mauricio continued, we should head up the Trombetas and the Mapuera, cross the Serra do Acarai to the Essequibo, to Dutch territory."

"Serra up, serra down," Henriques muttered. He stopped for a moment to adjust his warishi, his backpack. Mauricio walked past him; they were on a well-defined game trail.

"According to the maps," Mauricio said, "they can't be much more than three thousand feet high. That can't be hard, can it? Hannibal took elephants across the Alps, after all.

"Not that I've ever climbed a mountain, mind you. Unless this hill counts. Have you, Henriques? Climbed a mountain, I mean?" Henriques didn't respond.

"Henriques?" Did you hear-"

"Freeze!" Henriques shouted.

Mauricio froze.

"Don't move your arms, or your head. Not even a muscle. You can move your eyes… slowly. Look a little above, and slightly to your left."

Mauricio scanned the foreground. Then he saw it, a jararaca verde , a leaf-green colored viper, perhaps two feet long, hanging from a branch nearby. Close enough to grab. Not that grabbing a fer-de-lance of any kind was one of the options Mauricio was considering.

"Very slowly, put your left toe back… not so far… now slowly, bring your heel down, without bobbing your head. Good, now, same with the right. Keep your eyes on the snake at all times."

The fer-de-lance, untimely awakened by Mauricio, was eyeing him suspiciously.

"Can't you kill the snake?" The words were mumbled; Mauricio was trying not to move his jaw as he spoke.

"With a machete? While it's hanging on a tree? Not a chance. Need to club it on the neck, while it's on the ground. With a long club, mind you.

"Keep up your little dance backward, please."

Gradually, Mauricio inched away from the serpent.

"Okay, you can relax."

Mauricio fainted. Henriques poured a bit of water on his lips and forehead. After a few minutes, Mauricio revived. "How did I miss it?"

"In the rain forest, you can see perhaps fifteen feet ahead. But you can cover that distance in ten seconds, even at a walk. You can't afford to relax your vigilance, even for a moment."

Mauricio, his spirits somewhat restored, harrumphed. "You're just looking for an excuse to keep me from talking."

Benito Maciel Parente grinned. "So dear Henriques is a pig-loving Jew. Well, it is my duty, my sacred duty as a son of the church, to bring him home and teach him the error of his ways. Or perhaps the other way around, yes?"

His fellow thugs laughed. Benito had just returned to Belem from a slaving run down the Tocantins, and in town there was much gossip about Henriques' disappearance, and the stymied search for him.

"We'll take three boats, I think. Might as well do a little enlistment of native labor, while we're up the Amazon. Be ready to leave at the crack of dawn, tomorrow."

"Sing, Mauricio."

"I thought you didn't like my singing."

"I don't. But you have a loud voice, and that's what we need right now."

"How come?"

"We've never been in this part of the sertao. This is a well-marked trail, almost certainly leading to a village. We want them to know we're coming."

"But wouldn't the Indians sense us? Being wise in the ways of the bush, and all."

"Let me rephrase that. We want them to know that we know that they know we're coming."

"I am not sure that was an improvement. You are as clear as a philosopher."

"If they think we're trying to sneak up on them, they'll think we are up to no good. And either flee, or prepare an ambush for us. Whereas, if we approach them openly, they'll assume we've come to trade."

A couple of dogs came down the trail and barked at Henriques and Mauricio. They stopped, and left the dogs sniff them. Then they continued walking, and the dogs, still barking occasionally, followed.

The village was just a circle of conical huts. Various animals milled about the central clearing, but no people were there. Occasionally, a head would look out of a hut, then pull back in.

"Hey, that was a pretty girl, over there," Mauricio exclaimed. "Hope she comes out again."

And, a moment later, "Ugh, look at that crone. Hope she's not the mom, wouldn't want her for a mother-in-law."

Henriques didn't respond; he was studying the village. "Mauricio, we need to leave. Now."

"What about trading for food? What about getting better acquainted with the young ladies?"

"Didn't you notice? There are only women in this village."

"Hey, you're right. Wow, we found the village of the Amazon women warriors. The ones Father Carbajal wrote about. And Sir Walter Raleigh. There are only two of us, so we will certainly enjoy favors of their queens. For a whole month. And-"

Henriques grabbed Mauricio by both shoulders and forcibly rotated him about-face. "What it means, dear Mauricio, is that their men are off on the warpath, and we really, really don't want to be here when they come back."

Henriques and Mauricio made it safely back to their canoe, and pressed on. They felt safe enough, at this point, to erect a makeshift sail, so they could travel more quickly. It didn't seem likely that they were still being pursued.

A few days later, they saw a large canoe overtaking them from the south. They hastily took down their mast, but it was a false alarm. The canoe was crewed by Manao Indians. The Manao were great traders, and one of the dominant tribes of the region where the Rio Negro fed into the Amazon. They traded with the Omagua in the west, and, occasionally, the Munuruku on the Tapajos in the east. Rumor had it that they also ranged to the north, up the tributary which Henriques' map called the Rio Branco, but no Portuguese had gone that way before.

Henriques raised his hands, palms open, signaling peaceful intent. The Manao greeted him, and, politely, asked his business in their region. He said that he was looking to trade and, perhaps find a path to the Great Water in the north. He gave them a few beads, and they offered him some cachiri.

They invited Henriques and Mauricio to follow them to their village; they were returning from a trading run up the Madeira, one of the tributaries on the right bank of the Amazon. That night, they camped together, on an island, and Henriques questioned them about what tribes lived there, and what goods they had to offer.

Mauricio eagerly asked them whether they had seen any women warriors there, and they told him that it was a nonsensical idea. "No more cachiri for you," one suggested kindly.

Mauricio whispered to Henriques. "Perhaps these Manao haven't traveled widely enough. Someone else at the village may have heard of the Amazons. After all, Acuna and Raleigh reported them. "