Young Jaguar, The

by Zoe Saadia

  Home, he thought randomly. It’s time he went home, at last.

  Chapter 13

  When the sun kissed the tops of the distant trees that lined the main avenue, Sakuna knew she had no choices left. She had watched it for some time now, still hoping he would come.

  The day had dragged slowly, oh so slowly, since she had come back from her market trip with Nopalli. Her resolution firm, she went through her usual chores, mainly by supervising her slaves’ activities. Not a demanding task. They all knew what to do. They didn’t need her, taking pleasure in letting her know this.

  She had talked to Tecuani when the boy had briefly come home. He wanted to make sure Atolli had returned and was once again thrown off his usual breezy self, discovering his adored older brother was still missing. He needed reassurance, and she did her best, tucking her own fears into the depths of her soul. He also had told her he went to Mecatl, but Atolli’s friend was at a loss for the information.

  She hugged him tight and promised that all would be well. As soon as his father returned. And now there were two of them, waiting and pinning their hopes on the Master of the House, she reflected, grinning without amusement.

  Flower had also needed her attention. Not sensing her family’s distress, or indifferent to it, she was fretting over her impending time in the temples’ services. She wanted to be admitted to the prestigious temple of the mighty Quetzalcoatl and thought her mother should do more than just manage to hold herself from running out of the room each time a priest was honoring their house with a visit.

  Tomorrow some temple ceremonies were to be held, and Flower wanted to attend. Sakuna sighed. To watch the pulsating blood, worshipped and revered and splattering all over, was not her idea of the perfect morning. She thought about the trouble looming. Would she survive to see tomorrow? Hugging her daughter, she promised to arrange their litter to be ready before dawn.

  And now, she sat up on the roof, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. Not in desperation, but with a certain amount of acceptance. Tecpatl had not come, so now it was up to her. If he was still alive and unhurt, she would make sure he remained so.

  She went down the stairs. “I need my litter ready,” she told her maid, the squat middle-aged Mayan with a thick accent.

  “Now? At sunset?” exclaimed the woman, appalled.

  “Yes now. And please hurry!”

  She rushed to her rooms, searching through the chests. A brown nondescript gown would do, she thought, tying her hair carelessly behind her back. She should not look appealing in any way. But then, had she looked appealing yesterday, kneeling beside Nopalli’s child?

  She shivered and clasped her teeth, feeling her resolve weakening. You can do it, she promised herself. It’s not that dangerous. She’d just have to talk to the old man, play nice, play the part of a sweet helpless woman. He was aroused by the image of a powerful, wild barbarian. Well, he’d get the helpless civilized little woman instead.

  Something Nopalli had said that morning had triggered the idea. If we want our lives neatly arranged, we better keep to our clothes, and jewelry, and our children. Politics are for men. They don’t like us all strong and opinionated. They like us sweet and helpless, and then they’ll do anything for us.

  Well, Tecpatl wasn’t like that, but if to save him she had to play this game of Azcapotzalco’s civilized nobles, she would do it. She’d promise the intimidating adviser to talk to his nephew, to convince him, and this way she might buy a little time.

  For what? Well, this would be up to Tecpatl. She just wanted him to come home unharmed, so they could think of how to go about looking for Atolli.

  The litter swayed, jerking occasionally as it progressed up the darkening alleys. Damn slaves, she thought, leaning against the wooden screen, nauseated. But she knew the bearers were not to blame. Uncomfortable with carrying a woman of her status at such an unusual time of the evening, they almost ran, anxious to deliver her back home safely, the sooner the better.

  Her destination had baffled them too, she knew. A very unusual address for their mistress to pay a visit.

  When they reached the main entrance, it was already dark. She eyed the torches flickering in the strengthening wind, fastened into wooden columns lined with marble. It gave enough illumination to see the armed figures guarding the beginning of the wide, well-swept avenue.

  “Find out if the Master of the House is home. Don’t tell them who is enquiring.” She peeked from behind the curtain, not willing to expose herself more than necessary. “If they insist, tell them it’s the Chief Wife of the Honorable Warlord.”

  The maid, a young girl whom she had acquired not long ago, looked at her wide eyed.

  “Don’t stare at me! Just go.”

  The girl scurried off, her steps light on the rustling gravel.

  He won’t be home, she thought suddenly, aware of the vastness of her relief. He’d be as busy around the Palace as her husband was. If the Chief Warlord could not come home, neither could the Main Adviser. Her heartbeat began to calm.

  “He has just arrived, Mistress.” The voice of the girl made her jump. “They said I can run into the house and deliver a message, if you wish it so.”

  Sakuna took a deep breath. “Go in and tell the Master that his nephew’s wife wishes to see him. Come back only if he agrees or refuses; don’t deliver me an invitation of anyone else in this household. Now go.”

  She watched the girl rushing up the path, then lingered for a little longer, wishing to step outside, knowing she could not. The air smelled of rain, damp, heavy with a nearing storm. She could feel it. Or was it her imagination? Summer storms were rare in Azcapotzalco.

  He would be too busy to admit her. The main adviser had better things to do than to chat with insignificant wives of his numerous nephews and cousins. He was the head of their clan. He would not bother to see her.

  She sat back, folding her arms in her lap. But what if he did? What if he thought she came to do… what?

  Her fingers twisted the beads of her embroidered skirt, threatening to tear the pretty jewelry off. She forced them into stillness. This waiting would be over soon. One way or another.

  She could hear the purring of the distant thunder. So she hadn't been wrong about the storm.

  The curtain swayed with a fresh gust of wind. She could feel the damp freshness seeping through the cracks in the wooden screens. The summer’s storms were pleasant affairs. If it rained right away, she’d go up to the roof as soon as she got home. It would refresh her and wash away all her worries. Well, for the time being, at least.

  The hurried steps of the maid tore her from her reverie.

  “He’ll see you now, Mistress,” said the girl, gasping.

  She could feel the litter lifting, jerking with the movement. She could not hear her heartbeat anymore. Previously it had thundered in her ears, but now it stilled to a complete quietness. She wondered if it had stopped for good.

  ***

  The flames cracked cozily in the fireplace, lighting the room, reflecting off the lined walls. Pinkish in coloring, the wooden planks encircled the rectangular space, reflecting the firelight favorably, increasing the cozy sensation.

  Sakuna hesitated by the entrance’s poles, wishing to lean against the polished wood. She assumed it was there to support the doorway frame. Well, it could spare her some support too. The gaze of the Master of the House made her want that support badly. She did not trust her legs to hold her for much longer.

  The thickset man stared at her, openly hostile, his small eyes squinting into a pair of slits. The tightly clasped lips – another slit. Well, at least it contained no lust this time.

  “Did my Nephew send you here?” The deep voice demanded. “Can’t he muster enough courage to see me himself?”

  She stared at the man, taken aback, her urge to run overwhelming. The old man did not move, sitting on the high woven stool, back straight, knees far apart, partly covered by the richly embroidered hem of a cloak.

/>   “Tecpatl did not send me here,” she mumbled.

  “No?” The bushy eyebrows lifted as the squinted eyes opened a little wider. Some amusement crept into the depths of the frown. “So you came to visit me of your own accord?”

  “Tecpatl has not come home yet. And… and I worry about him. Is he all right?” It came out sounding most silly. She bit her lips.

  “So you came here looking for your husband?” The man reached for the podium laden with plates, picked a tortilla wrapped around mashed avocado. A delicious aroma rose from another bowl. She wished she could see what was in there.

  As her sharp, polished nails sank into the softness of her palms, she felt the pain and it refreshed her a little. She took a deep breath.

  “Oh Revered Uncle, I came here to beg your forgiveness. My behavior during our previous meeting has no excuse other than the exhaustion and the deep worry for your daughter’s youngest son. I wish you would accept my deepest apology. I was rude and uncouth. I behaved like a barbarian. I beg you to accept my apology.”

  It came out well enough. The tortilla stopped in midair. The eyes opened wider, studying her with some interest.

  “I see,” said the man, resuming his eating. “Is that all?”

  She licked her lips. “I also would love to assure you that I would be happy to be of help should you require any assistance. I would be delighted to do your bidding in talking to my husband, if any of my silly opinions should impress him. I will do my best to convince him of anything you should think of as a correct line of behavior.”

  Now she had taken it too far. He looked as if he was about to burst out laughing.

  She held out her hand. “Oh Revered Uncle, I’m just a simple woman. I apologize if I have offended you by coming here and saying all those things. They are coming from the bottom of my heart, but my speech is of an insignificant woman.”

  Seemingly unimpressed, he kept eating. She could see him tearing at the last of the tortilla with those large well-preserved teeth, the teeth of a predator.

  She thought of Tecpatl and Atolli. Oh gods, I hope I did not come too late.

  “I will be more than happy to talk to my husband. I will do my best to make him see the truth. The truth you made me see the evening before this one. I’m grateful to you for opening my eyes. I’m honored that you chose me to be your messenger.”

  Something crept into the small, but now wide-open eyes. The gaze boring into her changed. It reflected something new. Some amusement, some pity, some deeply hidden…desperation? It couldn’t be.

  The corners of the thin mouth quivered, shifted downward in a sort of an inverted hint of a smile. The man seemed suddenly tired and old. She could see his wide shoulders sagging.

  “Save your breath, little barbarian,” he said tiredly, almost friendly and well meaning. “It’s too late for this. You talk well. Your ability to express yourself is commendable for an insignificant woman. Your oratory is worthy of the noble women of Azcapotzalco. And your wit.” He shook his head and laughed, but humorlessly so. “What a woman. My Nephew keeps surprising me today. He kept many things about himself well hidden. You are among those. His ability to control his warriors is another. As are his inflexibility, his surprising stubbornness, his lack of respect for his elders and betters. Oh, he surprised me, this one. Surprised me most thoroughly.” The small eyes focused on her once again. “It’s too late for your speeches, female orator. You cannot talk to him. He won’t see reason.”

  She clutched the glossy column with both palms, knowing her legs would give way any moment.

  “Is he dead?” she whispered, unable to say it aloud.

  The inverted smile widened. “Not yet.”

  “Where is he?” It came out so hoarsely she had to clear her throat. But it didn’t help; she could not control her voice anymore. “Is he imprisoned?”

  “Of course not.” The bushy eyebrows frowned. “You disappoint me. After all your speeches I would think you could understand the subtlety of the situation. How could we imprison the Chief Warlord who insists on supporting the lawful ruler? Do you know he has the temerity to remind me – me! the leader of his Clan – of my duties to the lawful Emperor? Oh, he has guts, that one. I am sorry he will have to be put to death. He is a great warrior and a surprisingly good leader. I wish he would see reason.”

  “I’ll make him see reason! Please, don’t hurt him. I’ll find a way, I promise. I will not disappoint you. You’ll see. But please, please don’t kill him.”

  She became aware she was shouting, when the heavyset man was suddenly on his feet, kicking away his stool, which wavered and then toppled to its side. With the agility of a pouncing cat he leapt toward her, crossing the whole room in what seemed to be one single movement.

  A rough palm grabbed her shoulder. The square body crashed into hers, slamming her back against the polished column. The other palm pressed her mouth shut, the wide fingers digging into her flesh, hurting.

  “Shut up, you stupid woman!” he hissed into her face, filling her nose with the smell of hot beans, almost spitting the remnants of tortilla into her eyes. “You will bring the entire household here. Scream once again and I’ll kill you right here on the spot, just crush you against this very column. Hear me?”

  She struggled to break free from the strangling palm, unable to get enough air. When he shifted his fingers, she took a sobbing breath, then tried to ease away by pressing deeper into the column.

  “Don’t you even think of fighting back!”

  The heavy body pressed harder. She tried not to cry out at the pain in her spine. Her teeth reached for the rough skin of the strangling palm. It tasted of some spices and salt. Before she could sink them into it, the palm pressed harder, slamming her head against the cold marble. She tried to stop the tears from seeping.

  “Stop fighting, you wild barbarian.” He was hissing into her face. “Just stop it! Listen to me.” Only now, she noticed her fingernails were tearing at his shoulders. She could feel the cotton material ripping under her palms. The nails of her other palm felt the warmth of the tearing flesh.

  The man pressed harder. “Listen to me, you damn manure-eating good-for-nothing,” he growled once again. “Stop fighting. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She tried to control her panic. The strangling hand would not allow her to breathe deeply, to try to calm herself.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, you silly woman,” he said more calmly, sensing her giving up. “Will you behave if I let you go?”

  She nodded.

  The pressure on her mouth eased a little. “Slowly, slowly,” he said. “Now look at me. Can I trust you not to scream or run away, or attack me, if I let you go?”

  She nodded once again, her body beginning to tremble. The hand clutching her mouth moved away. When he moved along with it, she slid down the column, her legs powerless to support her. She clutched her mouth, now with her own palms, trying to control the shaking, trying to make her teeth stop rattling.

  She could hear him going away, then coming back. The offered goblet made her grateful. She tried to drink, but the water spilled all over.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, gazing at the wet floor.

  When she was able to look up, he was back up on his high stool, studying her calmly, eating another tortilla. She could see it was empty this time, just a pastry made of ground maize.

  “I envy and pity my nephew at the same time, you know?” The deep voice was calm, unbearably amused. “You are a wild woman, and you have no finesse. To start screaming, of all things! Did I say he was already dead? Did I?” The massive head shook. “I said he will have to be killed, yes. But for the sake of the mighty gods, can’t you just plead for his life, nicely and calmly? No. This is what a civilized woman would do. But you? First you scream at the top of your voice, then you fight like a wild ocelot when I try to silence you. So this is the life my nephew was leading? What an extraordinary choice! I mean, for a concubine it might be entertaining, but as a Chie
f Wife? No wonder he is so difficult.”

  The trembling was dying away. She drank the last of the water, the little that was left in the goblet. The rest was soaked into her blouse, splashed around on the floor tiles. Her face hurt, and she touched her mouth with her fingers.

  “So what do I do with you?”

  She got onto her feet tiredly, her back hurting.

  “I don’t know,” she said hoarsely, not caring about what she said anymore. She cleared her throat. “If I can do anything to prevent you from killing him, please tell me now. I want to go home.”

  She could hear his laughter. “You know, I like you better this way. This oh-so-very-high-spoken noblewoman pretense does not suit you. Not at all. Your magic is in your wildness. Do not try to hide it.” He pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes into their usual squint. “I don’t think there is anything you can do. Can you think of something?”

  “How would my husband’s death help you?”

  “He controls the warriors, the elite ones. They can’t be swayed as long as they are following him. Once removed, they’ll be distraught and easy to maneuver.” One broad hand came up. “We’ve reached an impasse, you see? I can’t go back on what I started, and he wouldn’t be budged from his high-principled stance. It’s easier for him, you see, to look straight forward. He is afraid of politics. But now, anyway, his pride will not allow him to change his mind. And it’s a civil war, Sakuna. Azcapotzalco people will be fighting each other. Do you see any way to prevent it?”

  “You are as proud as he is. Probably more so. But you are also wiser. Can’t you postpone the change?”

  He regarded her with a growing interest. “I’m also growing old, Sakuna. I can’t wait for too long.” He sighed. “I know I’m right about our current Emperor. I don’t want to die knowing I could have done something to save our people.”

  “What is wrong with the current Emperor?”