The lurcher’s ears suddenly shot up and a low whine vibrated in his throat. Off in the distance, in the heart of the camp, could distinctly be heard the snarls and growls of two dogs fighting. They would be two of Vendabal’s war dogs, set against one another in a pit for the men to lay wagers on. Very rarely the hounds in such contests would be allowed to battle it out to the death, and Cortés tolerated this, claiming to be persuaded by Vendabal’s argument that it toughened the animals up, but more often they were whipped apart before too much damage was done. They were, after all, valuable and irreplaceable weapons, and not to be lightly squandered.
Pepillo sighed. Since the voyage from Potonchan he’d felt Vendabal’s evil eye increasingly focused on Melchior. The fact that Cortés had refused to give the dog over to become a member of the pack had merely served to heighten this unwelcome attention.
But what would the next move in the game be?
Pepillo shuddered and sighed again, and Melchior, sharing his misery, nuzzled up against him.
Chapter Six
Friday 23 April 1519, night
After Cuetzpalli’s departure from the House of Serpents, Moctezuma gave firm instructions to Teudile that if there was any further word concerning the whereabouts of the white-skinned beings, it was to be reported to him immediately. ‘Tell me even if I am sleeping,’ he insisted.
That night passed without sleep, day followed, and then a second restless night and another day. The Great Speaker felt himself falling ever deeper into despair. He wandered the halls of his palace in torment, sighing, filled with weakness, talking to himself, saying: ‘What will happen to us? Who will outlive it? Ah, in other times I was contented, but now I have death in my heart! My heart burns and suffers as if it were washed in chilli water. Where can I go?’
Food was offered to him but he could not eat it. The time for his afternoon rest came, but when he closed his eyes he was haunted by visions of white, bearded faces and weapons of gleaming metal, and fearsome beasts, and again he could not sleep. Lost in the deepest gloom and sorrow, he picked at his dinner, leaving it largely untouched. Even the most delicate dishes, in which he had once taken such delight, failed to awaken his senses. Tobacco tubes were brought to him but, as he inhaled the smoke, he imagined he smelled the sulphurous fumes of fire-serpents and vomit rose in his throat.
Finally he retired to his chamber where he was greeted by four naked girls from his harem. They were young and beautiful, they quivered in their fear of him, their tepilli parts became moist when he touched them, yet they failed to arouse even the slightest reaction from his limp and useless tepulli. Sad and dejected, he sent them away, determined to face the night alone.
At last he slept, but it seemed only a moment had passed before he awoke again to find Teudile standing over him holding a lantern. An expression of deep anxiety lurked in the cadaverous hollows of the steward’s face. ‘Lord,’ he said in a shaking voice, ‘forgive me for disturbing your rest, but in this I obey your command. Relay messengers running for a night and day have brought a report from your servant Pichatzin, governor of your city of Cuetlaxtlan in the conquered territories of your subject people the Totonacs. It seems the boats of the gods appeared there yesterday and the white-skinned beings have descended from them and made their camp upon the land. Pichatzin met and talked with them. They wish to see you, sire, and for that purpose they have stated their intention to march to Tenochtitlan … ’
With a horrible groan, Moctezuma sat bolt upright in his bed. He was filled with such terror that he felt certain he must die of fear, and only with the greatest difficulty was he able to compose himself. ‘Meet me in the audience chamber,’ he told Teudile. ‘We will study Pichatzin’s message together and I will decide what must be done.’
* * *
Cloaked in the spell of invisibility, Tozi had been following Moctezuma around his palace for hours. The ability to magnify others’ fears had been added to her witch’s repertoire on the night of the holocaust at the great pyramid, when all her other powers had also been mysteriously enhanced, and she’d sent fear to Moctezuma often enough in the sixty days since then to wear the murdering bully down and deeply undermine his resolve.
There were risks.
Her friend and ally Huicton, who walked the streets of Tenochtitlan in the guise of a blind beggar (but who in reality was neither blind nor a beggar but a spy for Moctezuma’s enemy Ishtlil, leader of the rebel faction in the vassal state of Texcoco), had warned her that powerful magicians protected the palace and posed real dangers to her when she entered its halls. ‘If you encounter such a one in your invisible form,’ Huicton had said, ‘you might be snuffed out like the flickering flame of a lamp, or else imprisoned in some sorcerous realm from which you can never escape.’
‘Their strength cannot match mine,’ Tozi had replied, not boasting but simply expressing the quiet confidence she felt in her own magical skills.
Huicton had looked at her with disapproval: ‘Never be too sure of yourself. In this world of the strong and the weak, there is always someone stronger than ourselves.’
And perhaps what the wise old spy said was true, but Tozi judged the risk worth taking to fill Moctezuma’s nights with chilling dreams and his days with nameless dreads, gradually eating away at his self-confidence and plaguing him with uncertainty. Her purpose was to render him weak, timid and ineffective, so he would be unable to put up a fight when the time came – as it soon must – for the return of Quetzalcoatl, the god of peace, who would usher in a new age free of human sacrifices, free of torture, free of slavery, free of pain, free of suffering.
Now, on her first visit to the palace for five days, she listened with growing excitement to the news that Teudile brought Moctezuma in his bedchamber – news deemed important enough to wake him from his tormented sleep. Her senses quickened as she heard the steward speak of the ‘boats of the gods’ and of the ‘white-skinned beings’. And, as she witnessed Moctezuma’s reaction, all the while feeding him more fear, she knew in her heart the time had come.
A little later, after Moctezuma had dressed, the two men met again in the audience chamber, where they made reference to other intelligence Tozi had been unaware of until now, most notably that a great battle had been fought outside the Mayan town of Potonchan – the home town of her friend Malinal! – less than thirty days previously. Since the white-skinned beings had been armed with Xiuhcoatl, fire-serpents, the characteristic weapons of the gods, and had been served – as the gods were – by wild creatures they had tamed, it was therefore obvious to Tozi that they could be none other than Quetzalcoatl himself and his divine companions. No wonder they had been victorious! Having defeated the Maya, they had then moved on in their great boats to Cuetlaxtlan where Pichatzin had met them.
Like many official Mexica documents, the codex containing Pichatzin’s report was illustrated with detailed paintings, which Moctezuma and Teudile now pored over intently. Unknown to them, protected by the magic spell of invisibility, Tozi studied the paintings too.
The first showed the leader of the tueles – gods – as Tozi was certain they were. He had the appearance of a man, very handsome, white skinned, with a full beard and bright eyes of uneven sizes, and he wore a jacket of shining metal. ‘This must be the god Quetzalcoatl himself,’ Moctezuma exclaimed. ‘He has come to seize his kingdom from my hands.’ Tozi could only agree. Enthralled, she gazed at the painting and had no doubts. It depicted Quetzalcoatl returned to earth to usher in a new age of peace and harmony, when humans would no longer be offered as sacrifices to the gods, but only fruits and flowers.
Then Teudile turned the page and another figure appeared – a woman whose thick black hair had once been much longer, and whose beauty shone out like the sun. It was all Tozi could do not to gasp with the joy of recognition, for again there could be no doubt. The artist was skilled and this woman standing beside the human manifestation of Quetzalcoatl was none other than Malinal herself …
Moctezuma’
s jaw dropped open. ‘I know her,’ he said. He seemed dazed, shocked, unable to take his eyes off the painting. ‘Her face haunts my dreams … ’
Because I have made you dream of her, thought Tozi. Because I have made you see her again and again as she lay before you on the sacrificial stone. Because I have made you remember how you were forced to release her. Because she is the one chosen by the gods to destroy you …
Teudile was reading the pictographs. ‘She is a woman of our land,’ he told Moctezuma, who still stared fixedly at the image as though confronted by a ghost. ‘Her name is Malinal and she is of the Chontal Maya, but it so happens she speaks our Nahuatl tongue. It was through her, Pichatzin tells us, that he was able to talk to the white-skinned ones who have amongst their number one who speaks the language of the Maya.’
‘I know her,’ Moctezuma repeated. ‘And you also, Teudile! You know her too!’
‘Forgive me, lord, but I do not think so.’
Moctezuma frowned: ‘You speak true,’ he said. ‘I had sent you on a mission to Azcapotzalco that day. Had you been present, matters might have turned out differently. It was last year, Teudile, the year Thirteen-Rabbit, and this Malinal was summoned to serve as my interpreter when I received the message of the Chontal Maya concerning the first appearance in their land of a number of the white-skinned beings. Once she had performed her task, since the matter was sensitive, I naturally ordered her strangled, but Ahuizotl cheated me. After I had left the room, he took her to join his kept women in Tlatelolco. You know the story now, I think?’
‘Yes, lord. I regret I was not there to prevent his treachery and wickedness.’
‘It is not your fault, Teudile. It seems this Malinal is favoured by heaven. Four months after Ahuizotl flouted my order for her execution – I suppose he had had his fill of her – he placed her beneath my knife on the stone of sacrifice, but Hummingbird himself intervened and commanded her release. I obeyed and now she appears again as the tongue of the god Quetzalcoatl who has come to fulfil the prophecy and reclaim his kingdom. I feel the hand of doom upon me, Teudile, and here is what I want you to do. You must go to Cuetlaxtlan. Go at once! Do not delay a single moment. Do reverence to our lord the god Quetzalcoatl. Take him rich presents. Say to him: “Your deputy Moctezuma has sent me to you. Here are the presents with which he welcomes you home to Mexico.”’
The steward seemed aghast. ‘My lord,’ he said. ‘Will you allow me to offer some words of caution?’
To Tozi’s surprise, Moctezuma agreed: ‘You have always advised me well, Teudile,’ he said in a small voice. ‘You may speak freely.’
‘Sire, we do not know for certain these white-skinned strangers are gods. You would be wise to learn more about them before welcoming them into our lands.
‘Did we not hear enough from Cuetzpalli two nights ago? They have fire-serpents! They defeat armies of tens of thousands. Wild beasts obey their commands! A woman of our land is twice saved from death to become their voice. Of course they are gods!’
‘It seems they are gods, sire. It is very likely they are gods. But it is not yet certain. Let me go to them as you have commanded. I will study them closely – their food, their clothing, their manner of behaviour, their weapons, their wild beasts, and I will bring you back a full report. Then you can decide … ’
Moctezuma fell silent for a long while. ‘Very well,’ he said at last, slowly nodding his head. ‘You are right.’ He leaned over the codex again and turned the page back to show the white-skinned bearded countenance of the leader of the tueles. ‘Present yourself to him, Teudile, and discover with absolute certainty if he really is the one our ancestors called Quetzalcoatl. Our histories say he was driven out of this land, but left word that he or his sons would return to reign over this country and to recover the gold, silver and jewels they had left hidden in the mountains. According to the legends, they are to acquire all the wealth we now possess. You must order the governor of Cuetlaxtlan to provide him with all kinds of food, cooked birds and game. Let him also be given all types of bread that are baked, together with fruit and gourds of chocolate. Give these things to him so that he and his companions may eat of them. Notice very carefully if he eats or not. If he eats and drinks what you give him, he is surely Quetzalcoatl, as this will show that he is familiar with the foods of this land, that he ate them once and that he has come back to savour them again. Then tell him to allow me to die. Tell him that, after my death, he will be welcome to come here and take possession of his kingdom. We know that he left it to be guarded by my ancestors and I have always considered that my domain was only lent to me. But let him allow me to end my days here. Then he can return to enjoy what is his.’
Another long pause followed, during which the steward also remained silent, watching his master expectantly. Finally Moctezuma added: ‘Do not go with anxiety, or fear death at his hands, since I swear I will honour your children and give them my wealth and make them members of my council. If by chance he is desirous of eating human flesh, Teudile, and would like to eat you, allow yourself to be eaten. In such an event I assure you that I will look after your wife, relations and children—’
Teudile blinked. ‘I must allow myself to be eaten, sire?’
‘Yes, Teudile. That is my wish.’
How entirely typical of Moctezuma, Tozi thought. The coward doesn’t hesitate to put others forward to die for him, but he trembles and weeps like a terrified child every time he imagines any threat to himself!
The steward remained calm. ‘Your will, sire. I am ready to offer myself … But if I am eaten, I will be unable to bring you back any report. May I propose, therefore, that I take captives with me to the coast and sacrifice them there in the presence of the white-skinned beings and offer their flesh and blood instead?’
The Great Speaker brightened. ‘Ah yes, of course. Very well, Teudile. Let it be as you suggest.’
‘Now, as to the matter of presents, lord. Even if the leader of these strangers is a god, we cannot be certain he is Quetzalcoatl. Perchance he is the lord Tezcatlipoca taken human form, or perchance he is Tlaloc? In addition to many other rich gifts, let me therefore take the finery of each of these gods from the royal treasure house and we shall see which he prefers.’
‘A good plan, Teudile. You advise me wisely.’
‘And one more suggestion, sire. Allow me to take with me some of our great magicians to put the strangers to the test … ’
Moctezuma brightened further: ‘You advise me well, Teudile. With the help of our sorcerers, we will learn what sort of beings the strangers truly are.’ Tozi was watching the Great Speaker closely and saw that a look of cunning had entered his small, darting eyes. ‘Perhaps after all they are just men,’ he mused, with a new note of hope in his voice. ‘Just white-skinned, bearded men … Therefore take Tlilpo, take Cuappi, take Aztatzin, take Hecateu. Let them try their wizardry upon the strangers to see if they can work some charm against them – perchance to put them to sleep or terrify them with visions, or direct a harmful wind against them, or send serpents, scorpions, spiders and centipedes to bite them, or cause them to break out in sores, or injure them in some other way so they might take sick, or die, or else turn back whence they came. While you must pretend to the strangers that you have come amongst them only to serve them, let our sorcerers do everything in their power to kill them!’
‘It will be done as you order, lord,’ said Teudile. ‘I will begin preparations at once, but it will take a little time to gather the wizards and the captives and the finery of the gods and to make everything ready for the road.’
‘You will work through the night, Teudile, and you will depart our city no later than noon … It is not so very far to Cuetlaxtlan. How long do you suppose the journey will take you?’
‘If we make the greatest possible haste, lord, I believe it can be done in five days and five nights.’
‘Our runners traverse the same route in a single day and a night, Teudile! I understand, of course, that you
cannot run, that your embassy must transport much baggage … Nonetheless, I expect you to reach Cuetlaxtlan in four days and nights, or I will have your skin.’
‘Yes, lord.’
‘When you arrive, spend a further day and night with the strangers and discover if they are gods or men, then return here and bring me your report … ’
‘All will be done as you command, lord.’
The steward was already backing out of the audience chamber, bowing with each step, the hems of his star-spangled robe brushing the floor, when Moctezuma stopped him with a movement of his finger. ‘One more thing, Teudile,’ he said. ‘If word of the strangers’ victory at Potonchan, or of their presence now at Cuetlaxtlan, or of your mission to learn the truth about them reaches anyone here in our city, even the highest nobles of the land, then I will bury you under my halls, your wife and your children, your parents and all your kin will be killed, and your house will be razed to the ground.’
‘Your will, my lord,’ said Teudile, his face ashen.
Silent and invisible, Tozi followed him from the audience chamber and made haste to the place where her friend Huicton awaited her.
What Moctezuma wished kept secret, it was their duty to reveal.
Chapter Seven
Monday 26 April 1519, afternoon
If Shikotenka, battle-king of Tlascala, had not seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed it. A small army of white-skinned, bearded men had set up camp on the dunes three miles north of the Mexica coastal town of Cuetlaxtlan – the very town he had come here to reconnoitre and that he hoped soon to destroy.
‘What in the name of the gods are they?’ muttered sharp-eyed Chipahua¸ who was sprawled next to him under cover of the long dune grass. He was staring at the distant strangers with slack-jawed amazement, revealing jagged gaps in his front teeth where he’d been hit in the face by a Mexica war club two months before.
War God: Return of the Plumed Serpent Page 5