Fugitives of Fate

by Morganfield, T. L.

  She almost gave up hope when she reached the midway point, but then she spotted Xochitli sitting among the other female slaves. Malinali dismounted and Xochitli hurried to her. She kept glancing at the guards patrolling the perimeter.

  "I was afraid you might have been left behind," Malinali said when they reached each other.

  "I tried to get the chipahuacxihuitl for you, but the slave supervisor wouldn't let me leave the courtyard; some nonsense about not letting any more slaves run away. I tried telling him it was important, but he wouldn't hear of it and he threatened to see me sold to the temple as an incorrigible slave if I didn't get back into line."

  "How dare he—" But Malinali snapped her mouth shut. "I'm sorry. This is my fault."

  "Don't apologize. Everyone admires what you did. It's all the talk among the slaves. It's one thing to be a debt slave and have hope of regaining your freedom, like myself, but to have no prospects of that...I'd prefer to think I would have the courage to do the same thing." She glanced at the guards again, whom Malinali noticed watching them very closely. "Some of the men have been talking of running, saying they're a bunch of timid peccaries if they don't at least attempt something a woman managed to do. That's why the guards are keeping extra watch over us."

  "I hope they don't do anything rash. I'd have to blame myself if they did."

  "Blame yourself for giving hope?"

  Malinali stood a little taller. "That is a good thing to have, isn't it?"

  Xochitli nodded. "I'm sorry I failed to get the chipahuacxihuitl for you."

  "I'll have to be careful for the next few moons." Though the thought of discussing this with Cuauhtemoc—when they hadn't even yet truly been to bed together—made her sweat. It sounded presumptuous, and in the past men had laughed at her for asking them to not spill their seed inside her; in one case, the man had hit her and told her she didn't make demands of him.

  But when Cuauhtemoc smiled as he helped her down off her horse, all that fear evaporated. He would never treat me so callously. It felt wonderful to trust someone. "I need to talk to you about something." She cast a quick glance at the guards standing nearby then added, "It's private."

  "Give us room, men," Cuauhtemoc told the guards, and they moved off out of earshot. "Is this that thing we never got around to talking about last night?" he asked, handing her a tortilla.

  "Well, it relates to that. I lost my bag yesterday, and it had my entire supply of chipahuacxihuitl for this trip in it, so when we—if we decide to be intimate...I ask that you pull out...please. Not that I have anything against bearing your child, but this is just now starting and neither of us knows where it will end up, and well...." She took a deep breath against the pain threatening to overcome her. "I foolishly got pregnant once before and the dog who fathered my son—Acxotecatl—he stole him from me and tried to sell me off to the sacrifice when I fought to get my boy back."

  Cuauhtemoc stopped chewing. "I'm sorry."

  She couldn't hold the tears back anymore. "I know you would never do something so dreadful, but I...I can't—"

  "You don't have to explain. I understand." He looked as if he wanted to take her into his arms to comfort her but resisted. "When we decide to make love, I promise to respect your wishes."

  The way he said it, with such gentleness and devotion, gave Malinali a thrill she couldn't remember having ever felt before. And it was achingly wonderful.

  ¤

  After the break, Cuauhtemoc rode next to Malinali for a while, but eventually he fell back with his guards, under the pretext of checking the line. Further back, at the front of the slaves, he found his food taster. "I need you to test Lady Malinali's food for her when we get to Tlaxcala."

  The man nodded, not questioning. Cuauhtemoc hoped his fears were unnecessary, but now that he knew the full extent of Acxotecatl’s past with Malinali—and that he'd already once tried to kill her—he couldn't take any chances. He'd never met the man, but he was known for being as ruthless a military leader as Cuauhtemoc himself: he'd assassinated both his half-brother and his nephew to take control of Ocotelolco's throne the year following the military victories against the Spanish. The previous ruler had been no friend to the Mexica, but Cuauhtemoc dared say that Acxotecatl was even more unfriendly. His true hope for success rested with Xicotencatl, leader of the alliance, who was known for being downright reasonable on occasion and who exerted a great deal of influence over the other lords.

  The day progressed slowly, with the caravan stopping every few hours to rest or eat. They reached the summit of the pass before sunset but went no further, choosing to make camp for the night. The winds were sharp for summer, and Cuauhtemoc stood wrapped in a heavy feathered cloak as he looked down at the valley behind them, watching the sun set to the west while the slaves set up his tent. After looking around for Malinali, he found her at the opposite end of camp, looking out over the plains of Tlaxcala not too far below them, shivering in the dying light.

  He stepped up next to her. "Thinking of our mission?"

  "Actually, I was thinking about Paynala." She hesitated a breath before saying, "The last time I was here, I looked back and thought I had no hope of ever going back there again. It's a strange feeling knowing that now I can, if I want to."

  "You can." He tried not to let fear and disappointment slip into his voice. She has every right to want to go, he reminded himself. You'd feel the same if you'd been dragged off from home when you were a child. "If you wish to go back when we're done in Tlaxcala, I will take you home myself; I'll even make an example of those who stole your throne. I'll make certain it's yours again."

  She smiled. "If I want to go back."

  But by nightfall, Malinali's pleasant mood had given way to listless exhaustion, and she barely made it through the meal before begging off to go to bed. He followed a while later and chuckled under his breath when he found her already fast asleep. She'd done remarkably well on the trek, considering she hadn't ridden more than a few hours at a time since starting to learn; she was no pampered noblewoman stuck in the rut of luxury, but it was still unsurprising that the day's ride had left her exhausted.

  It had been quite a few months since he'd been on such a slogging ride himself, and his own protesting rump muscles reminded him of it. He let his body servants undress him then put him into a nightshirt, then he slipped under the blankets with Malinali. In the privacy of the royal tent, he could afford to be more open with his affections.

  She grumbled about the cold but settled back to sleep once she rested her head on his shoulder. With the wind rattling the tent canvas, he was certain it would be a long time before he fell asleep, but her soothing warmth soon lulled him off to dreams where they raced each other on their horses across the plains of Tlaxcala then made love in the tall yellow grass while the horses rested. He woke halfway through the night aroused and desirous, but with her body so heavy with sleep, it would be cruel to wake her.

  In the morning, he was glad he hadn't. Even though they slept until well past daybreak, Malinali rose in a surly mood, complaining of stiff, sore muscles and chafed ankles from the stirrups. Cuauhtemoc wrapped her feet with strips of buckskin then tied her sandals around it.

  She sat low and sluggish in her saddle as they made the descent onto the plains. She said little and answered only in short bursts when she did speak, her brow constantly furrowed over her eyes. She didn't complain though, even when it was obvious—from how she dismounted at the army camp—that she'd started chafing in less fortunate areas.

  "Make certain you get some salve for her, so she doesn't get full-blown saddle sores," he told her handmaiden. Luckily they wouldn't be riding the horses again for a week, so that would give the camp leather-smith time to make her a new saddle for the journey back.

  He spent the evening meal discussing logistical details with his commanders for the morning trip into Tlaxcala. Malinali sat with him but said little, instead poking at her food and looking worried. Once the other men left, he poured the
two of them cups of chocolate. "Are you feeling all right? You've been very quiet all day."

  She glanced up to smile at him, but the consternation didn't vanish. "This journey has been more tedious than I anticipated."

  "You're certain that's it?"

  Her gaze moved to the young man who took a sip of her chocolate before nodding and handing it to her. "You do realize that Acxotecatl thinks I'm dead?"

  "I won't let him hurt you," Cuauhtemoc promised, deadly seriousness filling his voice.

  "I appreciate the sentiment, but peace for the empire shouldn't be sacrificed for the life of one woman."

  "If you don't want to go—"

  "I don't want to cause a war."

  "We've already been at war with them for two hundred years, and while I've let them be during my reign, even Acxotecatl would realize the folly of attacking someone so close to the throne. He'd be jabbing a needle in the eye of the sleeping Earth Monster, and she has more than claws to strike him down with now; she has muskets and steel armor, too."

  "True, not even Acxotecatl would be so foolish. Never mind me. I'm tired and sore and fearful. I should be stronger than this."

  "We all wish we were stronger. That's why we have each other." He stood up and held his hand out to her. "Come along and we'll get ready for bed. We have another early day tomorrow."

  He helped her out of her riding clothes then to the bed. She sank down among the furs and blankets, exhausted. "I can't remember the last time I was this sore," she muttered.

  He stripped off his own riding clothes, but left on his loincloth, then knelt next to her. "Lay on your stomach."

  "I'm exhausted," she protested.

  "You'll feel better in the morning," he promised.

  She groaned then rolled gingerly onto her belly. "Don't look at my sore behind," she muttered into her arms as she folded them to rest her head on. "I'm certain it's a sorry sight."

  He laughed but resisted the urge to look. He'd had his share of saddle sores when he was learning to ride. "I promise not to look so long as you promise to relax and let me do the work." Though he knew that once he started, she wouldn't have any objections.

  He pressed his thumbs into her shoulders and worked them in slow circles, pushing harder with each stroke, working his way deep down into the layers of tension and muscle. She cringed and groaned when he switched to using his elbows. "It's uncomfortable now, but your muscles will thank me come morning."

  He worked down her back, kneading and tapping her muscles as he went. He'd never done such work himself, but he'd received hundreds of such massages after battles or intense workouts, so he had a good idea of how to do it. When he reached her buttocks, he took care to not touch the places covered with the healing salve but told her everything he was doing, to make his intentions clear. "This is particularly effective against lower back pain."

  She said nothing, just lay still, her body completely relaxed, her breathing steady and deep. For a moment he thought she'd fallen asleep, but when he finished with her feet then stretched out beside her, she rested her head on his chest and sighed.

  "That was wonderful. Thank you."

  "You're welcome," he whispered, and kissed her forehead. He pulled the blankets up over them and within a matter of minutes they both fell off into dream.

  Chapter Twelve

  Malinali woke an hour before Cuauhtemoc did, and as he'd promised, her muscles felt significantly better. She traced her finger over the scars on his chest as he slept, the burning ache of desire rekindled now that she was rested. But he didn't stir. She moved to trace the side of his face, studying his cheekbones and ears, but he grumbled and rolled away when she tickled his lips with her fingernails. Best let him sleep.

  She went out into the anteroom where Xochitli was asleep on one of the mats. Malinali felt bad waking her so early, but her stomach was rumbling and they had to keep up appearances. She shook Xochitli's shoulder gently. "Sorry to wake you," she whispered when Xochitli blinked sleepily at her.

  Xochitli shook her head. "It's all right. What do you need?"

  They went to the bath yard in the courtesan's quarters to wash up and dress for the day. Numerous other women were there already, bathing after their evening duties. Many were heavily tattooed and quite a few dyed their teeth red—as was the northern custom—but they greeted Malinali with friendly smiles and kind words. She'd always considered herself lucky that she'd never had to serve as a courtesan for any army, thinking it an even worse sort of slavery than what she'd endured, but given the laughing and joking all these women did, she had to wonder if she'd misjudged.

  While Xochitli went to see about food, Malinali returned to Cuauhtemoc's tent to find him awake and being dressed by his body servants. She watched, smirking behind her hand while the servants tugged ever so delicately at his clothes. It took a long time to bedeck him in his best royal attire, weighing him down with cloaks and jewelry and his monstrous, quetzal-feathered headdress. He smirked back at her but said nothing until the servants left, then he pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss. "Feeling better today?"

  "Much." She inspected his wardrobe, plucking bits of dander off his shoulders. "My back and shoulders thank you very much."

  "My pleasure." He ran a gentle hand over her rear. "And here?"

  Her heart thudded drunkenly in her chest. "Better too, though I'm certain the ride into Tlaxcala will make it worse again." Especially since she was wearing a form-fitting dress rather than her riding clothes. She knew it would be scandalous to meet the lords of Tlaxcala dressed all in buckskins, but the dress's stiff fabric didn't have nearly the cushion of her riding pants. She would be rubbed raw by the time they reached the royal palace.

  "We're not riding horses today. I won't risk anyone stealing a breeding pair while we're there, especially since horses are one of our bargaining chips. I already sent a gelding ahead, as our initial peace offering. Best to keep Tlazocozcatl and Pialoni here at camp." He pulled her into another kiss that said he hoped she would be well rested and healed enough so they might pick up where they'd left off before leaving Texcoco. The thought brought the desire back again, reminding her of lying with him in bed that morning. Maybe you should have made a better effort to wake him, she thought. This feeling is going to chew at you all day.

  After a light meal of fruit and tortillas, all the mission delegates loaded into seat-style litters carried upon the shoulders of porters then they set off for Tlaxcala with a large retinue of servants, soldiers and slaves. A band of Tlaxcalan soldiers greeted them at the border, wearing maguey-fiber armor and their faces painted white with vertical red stripes, in honor of Tlaxcala's patron god Camaxtli.

  The landscape looked the same as the last time Malinali had seen it six years ago; drought still strangled the meager crops, but not the spirit of the people. Civilians and soldiers crowded the sides of the road, watching the procession pass. Most people refused to observe traditional decorum and blatantly stared at Cuauhtemoc as his litter came by.

  Suddenly a man yelled and cast a stone. Malinali ducked, but at the last moment, her guard batted the stone down with his bare hand. He grunted and folded his wounded hand against his chest but still managed to draw his sword with his other. Before he or anyone else in the convoy could do anything, one of the Tlaxcalan soldiers felled the thrower with an arrow. The crowd fled, many of the women cursing the soldier to the gods.

  "Are you all right?" Malinali tried to pull the guard's hand from his chest so she could look at it. "Are you badly hurt?"

  "I am fine, My Lady." He gritted his teeth but wouldn't let her pull his hand away. He searched her with concerned eyes as well. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine, but please, let me see your hand. If you're hurt, it should be bandaged."

  He only surrendered his hand when Cuauhtemoc nodded at him to do so. She found it cut but not deep. Xochitli brought water and a bandage.

  "You saved my life, and I haven't even asked your name yet," she admitted, c
hoking with guilt.

  "It is Tenoch, My Lady," he mumbled. "And protecting you is my duty."

  While she tended to Tenoch's wound, heated discussion broke out between Cuauhtemoc's general and the leader of the Tlaxcalan soldiers. But just as Malinali was positive it would dissolve into combat, the Tlaxcalan commander barked orders at his men to clear the road and not let anyone approach the caravan the rest of the way. He apologized to Cuauhtemoc about the incident and assured him that no more nonsense would happen.

  They arrived in the city of Tlaxcala before noon, as the day turned especially hot and dry. The four lords of Tlaxcala waited atop the palace stairs, dressed in their best mantles and loincloths of maguey cloth—which were all quite poor quality compared to the cotton ones worn by Cuauhtemoc's slaves. Three of them wore expressions of pleasant calmness, but the fourth—Acxotecatl—made no effort to look pleased. He eyed Cuauhtemoc like a hawk hunting a wounded rabbit. Malinali's resolve to stand strong solidified at the very sight of the angry old turkey.

  Cuauhtemoc led the delegation up the steps, Malinali walking behind his guards. When the lords bowed, the rest of the delegates returned the gesture, though Cuauhtemoc carefully matched the extent of their bow. Malinali followed his lead.

  Lord Xicotencatl stepped forward. "You honor us with your visit, Revered Speaker. It's been many years since Tlaxcala has had the honor of hosting the leader of the Triple Alliance." Malinali remembered him as a congenial young man, tough but never unduly cruel, as some noble boys were prone to be. His father had led the lords when she was here, though he was a very old man back then, and now his son had assumed his power. Unlike in Tenochtitlan, in Tlaxcala power passed from father to son, in the ways of the old kings.