CUERNAVACA STOOD UPON A lush plateau on the western face of the Sierra Madre. The emperor’s new purchase was a mansion that had been constructed by a silver baron of the previous century, a man named Borda. It was famous for its verdant gardens and artificial lake. But the building had fallen into disrepair and was in need of major renovations. Maximiliano told Diego he had approved them all. The mansion, he said, was part of Mexico’s patrimony.
A modest party would be making the journey to Cuernavaca. Their numbers included Doktor Basch and Professor Billimek—the emperor’s naturalist—as well as the Countess Kollonitz and her husband, plus the Count von Bombelles and several other Austrian officers. Sauerthal, leader of the imperial orchestra, made the journey as well, with several string players. Salm-Salm and his wife rounded out the list. The travellers set off early on a Saturday morning, accompanied by a platoon of hussars and a patrol of Mexican lancers. The emperor’s carriage was a sturdy vehicle, newly acquired, drawn by a team of six dun-coloured mules. An outrider cantered alongside, wearing a black uniform with silver spangles.
The route to Cuernavaca took the travellers high above the capital, through a mountain pass of lofty, sometimes vertiginous inclines, flanked by fields of blond grass and dense pine forests that seemed to hum in the sharp, persistent breeze. Eventually, they began their descent along a serpentine course that wound through scattered clusters of adobe huts interspersed by organ-pipe cactus fences. Now and again, they encountered mule teams shuffling along the narrow road. Diego watched as the arrieros waved in greeting and then used their wooden switches to swat at their beasts, forcing them to clear a way so that the emperor and his retinue might pass. The creatures tottered off to the roadside, bearing huge loads of firewood or dried cornstalks or rough wooden furniture, their burdens a good deal larger than the animals themselves.
The journey lasted most of the day, and dusk was approaching by the time the convoy of carriages tottered into the semitropical valley surrounding the town of Cuernavaca. Diego wrinkled his nose—a faint perfume of jasmine scented the air. The temperature was noticeably warmer than in Mexico City. It seemed to him that the flora was more profuse and extravagant, the palm trees stouter. The palmeras swayed above a feast of vegetation—jacaranda trees, cherries, amates, and guayabos.
Unfortunately, there was bad news. The sorry truth was that the mansion de la Borda was uninhabitable owing to the renovations under way. Ladders and flimsy scaffolding clung to the place. Large sections of tile flooring had been dug up, leaving perilous holes and ugly mounds of earth. Whole walls had been knocked down, and plaster dust covered everything. The travellers managed to survive the rigours of their first night, but Diego had a feeling their hearts would quail at the prospect of sleeping yet again in these suspect and uncomfortable quarters. No doubt the mansion would one day make a fine alternative to Chapultepec Castle—but not now, not yet.
It was in these unsettled circumstances that the emperor’s party trooped down to breakfast on the morning that followed their arrival. They gathered on an al fresco terrace in the shade of a small orange grove, while a string trio played a succession of Viennese airs. For a moment, it all seemed tolerable, but only for a moment. They had only to think of the creaking stairs, the dust and detritus, the sagging floors and broken windows, and their spirits drooped again.
A young woman did her best to cheer them up. She gave her name as Beatríz Sedano and introduced herself as the daughter of the chief gardener at the mansion. Her complexion was as dark as polished mahogany, and she had large, arresting eyes and a small Romanesque nose, all framed by a shock of thick black hair of striking iridescence. She took charge of the breakfast and went about her duties with a degree of ease, assurance, and aplomb that was remarkable in someone so young. Diego could not stop watching her.
Toward the meal’s end, Maximiliano climbed to his feet and declared he had an announcement to make. It was impossible that the party should remain at the House of Borda, he said. Some other shelter would have to be found. As a temporary solution, he proposed an outing on horseback, with the aim of exploring the countryside beyond the town. Meanwhile, more suitable accommodation would be arranged, although he did not know exactly where.
At once, the girl, Beatríz, did an about-face and raised a hand. As if she had long ago mastered the art of contradicting monarchs, she announced that she had a superior idea. If a journey on horseback were to be assayed, she said, why not consider a more ambitious project, one that would entail a journey of several days?
“Go on,” said Maximiliano. “What do you have in mind?”
She put out her hands in a theatrical gesture. The party, she said, must on no account miss the opportunity to pay a visit to las grutas luminosas.
The name alone sparked an audible reaction from the gathering, a low hubbub of whispers and murmurs. The shining caves.
The girl explained that the structures in question were also known as the caves of Cacahuamilpa, strange geological formations located a two-day ride from Cuernavaca. About halfway along the route there was a fine hacienda called Cocoyotla, whose owner was accustomed to playing host to parties of travellers. He was able to provide comfortable lodging and acceptable nourishment. Not many adventurers passed that way any longer, owing to the troubles now plaguing the land, but it was her firm understanding that the hacienda might nonetheless still serve as a staging point for such a journey.
All this talk of caves perked the interest of the normally dour Professor Billimek. “I have heard of these formations,” he declared. “They are said to be extraordinary.”
“Haunted, I fear,” said the girl. “They are possessed by evil spirits. It is only fair to warn you.”
“Oh dear,” said the empress. “Why, then, are we even discussing the subject? Evil spirits? No thank you.”
“Pish-tosh,” said Professor Billimek. “These are mere superstitions. Pay them no mind. This excursion could be a great adventure, and I’ll warrant we shall find some excellent specimens along the route.”
The scientist was referring to the region’s flora and fauna and particularly its insects. Diego knew from experience that Billimek never ventured out of doors without his wooden carrying case, stuffed with bottles of various shapes and sizes, which he used to contain his biological discoveries.
“Well then,” said Maximiliano. “I am almost persuaded. But how shall we find our way?”
“I shall accompany you,” said the girl. For once, she seemed to blush, although it was difficult to be sure, so dark was her skin. “That is, of course, if you wish me to. I am familiar with the terrain, which is difficult and even somewhat hazardous in places. We shall ride along cliffs.”
“Dear Lord,” said the Countess Kollonitz, who was rather plump and a timid horsewoman. “What are we thinking? First evil spirits. And now cliffs. I would prefer to conduct my explorations in the garden here, with a book and a glass of wine.”
“Come, Polly,” said her husband. “It can’t be as bad as all that. As the girl says, many travellers have made the trip and lived to tell the tale.”
Diego observed these proceedings without making any comment of his own. He wondered where this was leading. As it turned out, no further objections were raised, and so the emperor declared the matter decided. He smiled at the gardener’s daughter and reached for his silver cigarette case. “The caves of … what did you call them?”
“The caves of Cacahuamilpa,” she said. “The shining caves of Cacahuamilpa.”