Home > Happy Holidays Fun > holiday humour – could I have sobotaged the Aztecs

holiday humour – could I have sobotaged the Aztecs

TCB checked his tie in the mirror and smoothed down his suit. “You’ll do” the Berkshire Belle told him from the bed where she lay reading the morning paper, adding “It says here that the price of chocolate will be important to you today”. He grinned, “Probably means I’ll fancy a Kit-Kat for the train, but won’t pay rip off Britain prices at the station”.
Some hours later he left the cool of the client’s office to make his way through the hot city to catch his train home but first, he thought, a coffee and a catch up on the day’s emails. The sign for one of the regular chains beckoned from along the street as he wove towards it through the throng of people.

As someone who had run FM at some sensitive locations he prided himself on being observant, but no-one could have missed the individual he could see approaching though the crowd; what costume was that he thought? Aztec, Mayan? Certainly it looked like something from that part of the Americas, probably some advertising stunt he thought, and the man did seem to want to press something upon him. Shaking his head TCB tried to sidestep the apparition, but a strong hand gripped his shoulder and the London street faded to oblivion.

As the pressure released his consciousness returned. He was standing on some sort of stone terrace with a huge blue sky broken in the distance by the snow-capped peaks of a mountain range. The man in costume was beside him and he motioned TCB to sit, following suit himself. He produced a stick and began to write in the sand between them. As he wrote, the hieroglyphics he used transformed themselves into English and TCB read that he was a guest of the people of Altzan. He had been brought back into the past to help them with his knowledge and would be returned soon to his own time and place.

The man wiped the sand smooth and began to write again. “We are a peaceful people who have come here to gather a precious commodity. When our time here has ended we are to leave, but some of us do not wish to return and we have broken away from our main group. We call ourselves Tiaxcalteca and wish to stay here and establish our own colony amongst the people of this planet. We do not wish to fight our brethren, but need security from them if we are to remain”. Smoothing the sands again he passed the stick to TCB.

In his best block capitals TCB wrote asking if they would not be better with a military commander, someone who understood fighting? As his words translated into the ancient language his companion reacted angrily, furiously scratching new words that revealed themselves to say that TCB was not understanding, that the Tiaxcalteca did not want to fight, they wanted to avoid battles and to be protected from such vulgarity.

TCB took back the stick and wrote again, this time suggesting that what they wanted was what he would call security services and explained these in the terms that he would have used for any modern client. This seemed to reassure his new friend and the latter wrote of the rewards that TCB would be returned with if he could help them.

This TCB considered. It was one thing to make promises, but by his reckoning he must be back in about the 1400s if his history was right, so how on earth could he help them? His companion seemed to sense his dilemma and began to write in the sand again. The words said that, in the same way that they had brought him from 2013 they could bring anyone from any time so all they needed was a contact.

TCB brought his iPhone out of his pocket and switched it on. “No signal” it cheerfully informed him, but his contact list was in place, many of them imported from LinkedIn. Who would be best for jungle work he thought; not perhaps the Russians, too hot for them, so maybe the Ghurkas? The Khukuri would be a good choice in these parts, but another name came to mind and he scrolled through to find it, that of a Spanish company that he had worked with some years before. There it was and he took the stick and wrote in the sands the name of Hernando Cortez, adding his company details and address.

Handmaidens took TCB away, washed the sweat from his brow and provided him with food and drink. He dozed quietly in the shade until his companion of earlier woke him. He wrote in the sand and the words explained that all was arranged, Cortez would come with men to help them. TCB would be returned to his own time now, but was to accept this gift, and a small flat package was slipped into his pocket, the words in the sand telling him that this was a sample of the most precious commodity on earth, and part of the price the Tiaxcalteca would have to pay for remaining here.
He was back on the Tottenham Court Road dodging pedestrians and feeling a little odd. The sweltering heat on the Central and Bakerloo lines did little to help, but saw him back at Paddington in time for the hour long run home. Somehow though he could not escape the feeling that something odd had happened that day, but he showered and changed and, after dinner, he got himself organised for an early start the next day and turned in early.
The next morning he was up, showered, shaved and dressed for another day of consulting. As he checked the things on his desk for his senior railcard he found the small flat package. Assuming its contents he tossed it over to the Berkshire Belle and left.

That evening they sat together again at dinner and she asked him where he had got the package. A memory flashed into his mind and he was suddenly wracked with guilt; how was he supposed to explain away a dodgy gold ingot with no hallmarks? “It wasn’t very nice” he heard a voice telling him, “ever such bitter chocolate. Was it some free sample?”
“Yes dear” he said, and a terrible thought nagged at the back of his mind that someone might just have paid a very high price for a small piece of chocolate.

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  1. May 6, 2013 at 7:20 am

    What fun. Looks like the summer heat is going to your head though. Rest up today!!

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