In the year 1695, right at the end of the 17th century, a Spanish monk fled barefoot

and starving through the tropical forests of Central America.

His name was underest of Andanio Iloyola, and along with his men he was dying of thirst

and hunger. Their faces had been torn by thorns, and his feet cut open by pieces of flint

scattering the swampy ground.

Andanio and his men had been part of a mission to the city of Taisal, an island stronghold

that was the last independent holdout of a once mighty civilization, the Maya.

Andanio's mission had been to convince the Mayan King of Taisal to convert Christianity

and to accept the dominion of Spanish control, which had now spread to cover most of Central

and South America.

But Andanio's mission had failed. The Mayan people of Taisal had rejected him, and now

Andanio and his men fled through the jungle back to Spanish lands.

Their journey was hard and treacherous. They climbed over hill after hill through thick

forest cover, desperate for food and water, their legs almost giving out from under them.

But then they came over the crest of one hill and saw something that stopped them in their

tracks. It was an enormous pyramid of stone, jutting out of the forest canopy, tangled

with roots and vines. And although Andanio was weak from hunger and thirst, he still found

strength enough to approach the ruins.

There was a great variety of old buildings, and though they were very high and my strength

was little, I climbed up them, although with some trouble. They were in the form of a

convent with the small cloisters and many living rooms all roved over, and arched like a wagon

and whitened inside with plaster. It seemed to us that these buildings must stand in their settlement.

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