Aztec

by Colin Falconer

  "Who are they?" Aguilar whispers to me, clearly alarmed.

  "Sorcerers. They are here to break the power of our great lord with their spells."

  A sharp intake of breath, and Aguilar turns pale. "Witchcraft!" he mutters and makes the sign of the cross.

  Feathered Serpent receives them under the palms, seated on a heavy oak chair inlaid with turquoise. At my suggestion he again wears the black velvet suit and soft black cap with green plume he wore on the occasion of his last meeting with Tendile.

  Tendile kisses the ground and puts a finger to his lips. Then his priests step forward and walk around Feathered Serpent and his retinue, fumigating them with incense. When it is done, Tendile announces to me: "I bring words of greeting and friendship to Malintzin from Revered Speaker."

  I relay this greeting to Aguilar who pronounces 'Malintzin' as "Malinche".

  "Revered Speaker has asked me to give Malintzin these gifts as a token of his friendship."

  I realise what he is about to do. It is more, much more, than I had dared to hope. I turn to Aguilar. "Will you respectfully ask the great lord if he will stand? These men wish to dress him in ceremonial robes."

  Aguilar can only frown. "To what purpose?"

  "Will you do as I say!”

  Aguilar's eyes go wide. He would like to whip me for my insolence. But what can he do at such a moment? He must pass on what I have said. Feathered Serpent gets to his feet.

  The Mexica lords step forward and knot a beautiful feathered cape at his shoulder, then place a collar of jade and gold in the shape of a serpent around his neck. Other lords bend down to put anklets of gold and silver on his legs. They give him a shield worked entirely from brilliant green quetzal feathers and place a mitre of tiger skin on his head.

  Finally Tendile himself produces a mask of turquoise mosaic, with gold fangs and a crossband of quetzal plumes, which he places on Feathered Serpent's head. It is the official regalia of a high priest of Quetzalcóatl, and so, by extension, the garb of the god himself. Montezuma has just publicly recognised my lord as the incarnation of the god. He believes also.

  The other thunder gods and their moles look on, bemused.

  I had supposed that my lord would surely be moved at recognising his very own emblems, but to my dismay he immediately removes his garments and drops them at his feet, as if they are an impediment to him. He resumes his seat on his makeshift throne and barks a command at Aguilar.

  "My lord Cortés wishes to know what else they have brought," Aguilar says to me.

  I try to hide my confusion. Is it possible that Feathered Serpent is trying to hide his own identity? But to what purpose?

  I turn to Tendile, who is as bemused as I. "Feathered Serpent wishes to see your other gifts."

  "We have brought provisions for himself and his companions."

  A line of slaves is waiting his command. They carry heavy baskets of food which they lay on mats on the ground; guavas, avocados and hog plums, panniers of eggs and roasted turkeys and toasted maize cakes.

  All the food has been liberally sprinkled with a sauce made from human blood. I can smell it.

  I hold my breath as one of the thunder gods, the one with the golden hair, steps forward and tears a joint from one of the turkeys. He holds it to his nose and sniffs, his face wrinkling in disgust. He throws the meat into the dirt.

  There is a deathly silence, all the other thunder gods watching Feathered Serpent, waiting to see what he will do. I hold my breath. This is the moment when he will prove his identity to all, if he acts correctly.

  He speaks softly to Aguilar, who then turns to me. "My lord asks you to thank Tendile for his gifts but says his religion forbids the eating of human flesh as all men are born brothers. To break this commandment is considered one of the greatest sins in the sight of God."

  I do not understand all of this long and confusing harangue, but I understand its meaning. I turn back to Tendile. "As you well know, Feathered Serpent has returned to abolish all human sacrifice. Do not be so transparent as to tempt his patience further."

  Tendile seems disappointed, as well he might. I know what he is thinking: this Malintzin will not assume the trappings of Feathered Serpent yet in all other ways he acts like a god. He is as confused as I am. What will he tell Montezuma?

  The thunder god with the golden hair says something to Aguilar.

  "My lord Alvarado wishes to know if the Mexica have returned his helmet."

  I pass on this request. Tendile raises a hand and the rest of the porters - there must be more than a hundred - hurry forward. "My lord Montezuma has done this, and more besides," Tendile says.

  Straw mats are laid on the sand at Feathered Serpent's feet and the helmet is produced, filled to the brim with gold dust. Then other objects are produced; gold figurines in the shapes of ducks, deer, jaguars and monkeys; gold necklaces and bracelets; a gold wand studded with pearls; gold shields inlaid with precious stones; mosaics in turquoise and onyx; statues and masks carved in wood; jade pendants and brooches; fans of solid silver; a head dress of quetzal plumes studded with jade and pearls; capes of finest feather work; jewellery of shell, gold, turquoise and jade; and five emeralds of enormous size.

  The thunder gods and their moles stare slack-jawed in astonishment. Then the final gifts are brought forward; two identical discs, each the size of a cartwheel and two inches thick, one of silver, the other of gold. The silver disc has the figure of a woman at its centre, Sister Moon; the gold disc has the figure of Lord Sun on his throne.

  The presents are arrayed there on the sand; the precious metals and jewels reflect the sunlight, hurting the eyes. There is complete silence save for the wind that murmurs across the sand, shifting grains across the mats and their treasures, as if my lord had commanded them to gently touch each piece and examine it, so that he will not have to stoop to do it.

  Finally, he speaks and Aguilar turns to me. "He wishes to know if that is all there is."

  I do not know what to think now. I can scarce relay this sentiment to Tendile. Now it is my turn to wonder if Aguilar translates exactly everything that Feathered Serpent says to me.

  I hesitate. "Feathered Serpent thanks you for your gifts," I manage, finally.

  Tendile looks sour. "Perhaps now they will leave us alone."

  Feathered Serpent speaks again, through Aguilar. This time I understand exactly what he requires of me. "My lord asks you to send his thanks to Revered Speaker for his generosity. It only remains now for my lord to thank Revered Speaker in person."

  Tendile appears stricken when he hears this. "That will not be possible. It is a long and dangerous journey to Tenochtitlán. Montezuma asks that he take these few humble gifts as a token of his esteem and return to the Cloud Lands from whence he came."

  I pass on these sentiments and wait for further direction. But I know what Feathered Serpent will say.

  "My lord Cortés has travelled far for the great pleasure of gazing on Montezuma's face," Aguilar says. "He has been ordered to pass on his greetings in person and he cannot do otherwise without disobeying his king."

  It is an effort to keep the smile of triumph from my face. With one hand Montezuma dresses my lord as a god, with the other he tries to buy him off like a mortal man. How he must be trembling on his throne in the place of the Eagle and the Cactus!

  "Feathered Serpent is a god and is not easily fatigued," I tell Tendile. "He must meet the Revered Speaker in person. He is guided in this by Olintecle, Father of all Gods and Mover of the Universe."

  Tendile groans, as if a great burden has been settled on his shoulders. In a way, it has, for he must now bear this news to Montezuma personally, and at great risk to himself, if I am not mistaken. Perhaps in his failure here he foresees his own death.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  After the Mexica had left the thunder gods and their moles fall on the bounty. The beautiful and valuable quetzal feathers, intricately worked by master craftsmen; the prized shell jewellery; the sacred woode
n masks; the fine embroidered cloths; all are trampled under the moles' boots as they fight each other to touch and admire the gold.

  Feathered Serpent looks dismayed. I believe my god is ashamed of his cohorts. I recall what he had said about the heart sickness from which his followers suffer. It must indeed be terrible to be afflicted by such a disease for it turns gods into monkeys.

  Chapter 15

  Already they called this San Juan de Ulúa an infernal place, surely invented by the devil with all his talents and experience for slow tortures. By day small groups of men gathered under the trees, grumbling to each other about the insects and the scorpions and the heat; when night came they shivered in the sudden cold and scratched at their mosquito bites, tormented by the unearthly shrieks of the owl men in the nearby camp.

  The morning after Tendile’s departure they gathered on the sand to watch as Montezuma’s treasures was carried over the sand. Some dared to wonder aloud if they would ever see any of it again. As the great wheel of gold was lashed between two of the longboats they muttered among themselves and threw hard stares at Cortés and his captains.

  With the Lord Tendile's departure the attitude of the naturals began to change. Each day there was less and less food.

  Benítez heard the whispers: What are we doing sitting here on this accursed beach? The governor's orders were to trade with the indians and explore the coast. Here we do neither. The only gold we have seen so far Cortés has hidden away on his own ship. Any moment the naturales might swarm from the jungle and attack us ...

  Since the battle on the Tabasco River a dozen soldiers had died from wounds they received there. Since then, they had lost another two dozen to fever and the vómito.

  There was talk about returning to Cuba. But if they went back now, would the governor, Velásquez, share the treasure with them, or would he keep it for himself?

  Benítez suspected he knew the answer to that.

  They waited for word from Montezuma.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  One morning they woke to find the indians had gone; their camp was deserted, fires still smoking, corn cakes burned to charcoal on the griddles. There had been two thousand of them, and they had all slipped away in the night, leaving them stranded there on the beach.

  Chapter 16

  The tension was betrayed on all their faces. Since the indians had vanished Cortés had warned them to expect attacks. Even at night they slept in full armour.

  Now he called all his officers to an urgent meeting. Only Alvarado seemed unconcerned by their predicament, slouching at the entrance to the tent, a smirk on his handsome, golden face.

  "I cannot understand what has happened," Sandoval said. "Why did the naturales run away? I thought we made it clear we were their friends."

  "They were happy to accept that friendship," Leon growled, "until Cortés insisted on a meeting with this Montezuma."

  Cortés accepted the rebuke in silence.

  Ordaz was next to speak. "The men feel it is now time to go back to Cuba."

  "But there is still so much more to be won," Cortés answered, his voice deceptively mild. "All of you saw the golden wheel Montezuma presented to us. That is the only beginning of the great treasures I believe to be here."

  Leon leaned both fists on the table. "The governor told us to explore the coastline and trade where we could. He expressly forbade us from sleeping on the shore. Yet you have had us sitting on this accursed beach for weeks, leaving ourselves open to an attack from these treacherous indians while our comrades die of the fever. We cannot stay here forever. We have already won far more gold and precious things than we could have ever hoped. We should return with it immediately to Cuba and present it to the governor."

  A vein pulsed in Cortés's temple. Go back to Cuba? Going back to Cuba would ruin him. Velásquez would take the gold for himself and he would not even be left with enough to cover his expenses. He had mortgaged all his possessions and exhausted all his lines of credit to finance this expedition. Moreover, the governor would probably arrest him and send him back to Spain in chains. He would not go back disgraced and bankrupt after fifteen years of toil in the Indies.

  An extravagant sigh: "I mean only the best for you and all of the men who have placed their trust in me. I am a Christian soldier and a loyal subject of the king, and I shall do whatever you think is best. If you and your men wish to return to Cuba, then that is what we shall do."

  "You cannot agree to this!” Alvarado snarled, his golden smile suddenly vanished.

  Cortés spread his hands, a helpless gesture. "It seems there is nothing more to be done. As these gentlemen have pointed out, the governor's orders were plain."

  "You would listen to these two ... ninnies?" Alvarado said, staring at Leon and Ordaz. The two men reached for their swords and had to be restrained by the others.

  No one moved.

  Finally Benítez said: "They are right about one thing. We cannot stay here and do nothing."

  "If we go back to Cuba," Puertocarrero said, "we shall not see any of the gold."

  Cortés held up a hand. "As I said, gentleman, it appears we have no choice."

  Leon and Ordaz exchanged glances. They had not expected to win so easily. Ordaz straightened. "I shall tell the men," he said.

  With a glare in Alvarado's direction, Leon followed him out of the tent.

  "You gave in too easily to those Velásquistas," Puertocarrero said.

  "Am I to believe then, that the rest of you do not wish to return to Cuba?"

  Jaramillo looked sullen. "As you yourself said, what choice do we have?"

  "Of course we have a choice," Cortés said. "Should you gentlemen wish to stay, there is another way we might play our hands."

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Without the Lord Tendile's slaves on hand to bring them food the Spaniards were faced with the possibility of starvation. After weeks in the holds of the ships, the cassava bread they had brought with them had turned to a foul and glutinous starch, crawling with maggots.

  It meant they had forage for themselves. The soldiers set out every morning to hunt birds and game with their crossbows while the Tabascan camaradas were sent off to scour the shore for crabs and wild fruits. Each day the hunt for food took them in broader sweeps, further away from the camp.

  Late one afternoon Rain Flower was alone collecting wild berries when she heard sounds from the rock pool where she and Malinali came each evening to bathe. Curious, she crept closer and peered through the ferns.

  It was one of the thunder gods, the one they called Norte. He was naked, standing waist deep in the cool green water. She was astonished. She thought that the Spaniards never bathed. Malinali had said it was because they did not need to. Rain Flower did not agree.

  Norte, she had noticed, was different from the others. They seemed to hold him apart; only the priest called Aguilar ever spoke to him. It seemed curious to her that Aguilar was their priest, because it was Norte who sported the tattoos and ragged earlobes of a holy man.

  Water streamed off his skin as he rose from the pool. He was hard and brown and smooth, not hairy like Benítez and Alvarado and the others. Her eyes lingered, and she felt an unnatural tingling in the base of her belly.

  If any of these great lords was a god, then it was this one.

  As he stepped onto the bank he had his back to her and she supposed he could not possibly have seen her. But suddenly she heard him say, in her own language: "And how long do you intend to stand there staring at me?"

  She lowered her eyes and stepped from her hiding place, wondering what punishment she might receive for spying on him in such a manner.

  "I am sorry, my lord, I humbly beg your forgiveness. You took me by surprise. I did not think a lord needed to bathe."

  "Even gods sweat," he said. When he turned around she saw that he was smiling.

  "I did not think you had seen me."

  He put on his breeches and a ragged linen shirt. "Obviously." His eyes were black and intense.
He was beautiful, she thought, like one of those boys the Mexica sacrifice to Feathered Serpent on his feast day.

  "What's your name?" he asked her.

  "Rain Flower."

  "Rain Flower," he repeated, slowly. "You were given to Benítez?" She nodded. He kept eyes on her, his head cocked to one side, as if he were amused. "I interest you in some way?"

  She looked at his ears.

  He touched the ragged tatters of flesh, self-consciously. "Blood spilled for Feathered Serpent."

  Rain Flower's eyes widened. "You are a priest?"

  "Do I look like a priest to you?" When she did not answer, he said: "I fear I am very much a Person, as you are. I had a wife with the same colour skin as yours. She gave me two children."

  "Why did you leave her?"

  "I did not leave her, I was kidnapped. A man cannot escape his birthright, no matter how much he might want to."

  He was standing very close to her. Among her own people, the punishment for adultery was death. What would they do to a woman who was unfaithful to a god? He reached out to stroke her hair and she took a step back.

  He lowered his hand. "I am sorry."

  "Are you gods?" she whispered.

  "No, we are Spaniards. That's much, much worse." He gave her another curious smile and walked away, back towards the camp.

  She felt short of breath. Why couldn't the great lord have given her to Norte? Life was too cruel.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  "Have you heard what the men are saying?" Aguilar asked Benítez. "Cortés wants to go back to Cuba and give Governor Velásquez all of the gold in return for clemency."

  Benítez had heard this particular rumour. In fact he had been there when Cortés told Alvarado to spread it. "Do you think it is true?"