Aztec Autumn

by Gary Jennings

  “Let me hazard a conjecture,” I said grimly. “This clever female’s name is G’nda Ké.”

  “It is,” said the man, surprised. “You have heard of her, my lord? Is the lady’s reputation for sagacity as well known abroad as it now is in Aztlan?”

  I growled, “She has a reputation, I will say that much.”

  The storm was gone, and most of the clouds, so the day was lightened by Tonatíu’s serenely settling into the west, and I recognized where we were. The first scattered habitations and tilled lands of Aztlan’s outskirts would soon be in sight I beckoned for Pakápeti to bring her horse alongside mine.

  “Before dark, my dear, you will be in the last remaining bastion of what was once the Aztéca dominion. A lesser but still proud and flourishing Tenochtítlan. I hope you will find it to your liking.”

  Curiously, she said nothing, only looked not at all anticipatory. I asked, “Why so downcast, dear Tiptoe?”

  She said, sounding extremely peeved, “You could have let me kill at least one of those three men.”

  I sighed. It seemed that Pakapeti was becoming as unwomanly a woman as that terrible G’nda Ké. I turned again to the warrior at my right stirrup and asked, “What is your name, man?”

  “I am called Nochéztli, my lord.”

  “Very well, Nochéztli. I want you to walk ahead of this train as we enter the city. I expect the populace will be coming out-of-doors to gaze upon us. You are to announce, loudly, over and over, that Yeyac has—deservedly—been struck dead by the gods who finally wearied of his treacheries. And that I, Tenamáxtzin, the legitimate successor, am arriving to take residence in the city palace as Aztlan’s new Uey-Tecútli.”

  “I will do that, Tenamáxtzin. I have a voice that can bawl almost as loudly as Tlaloc’s.”

  “Another thing, Nochéztli. As soon as I get to the palace, I shall doff this alien costume and don the proper regalia. While I am doing that, I want you to assemble Aztlan’s entire army in the city’s central square.”

  “My lord, I am only a tequíua in rank. I have not enough authority to order—”

  “I here and now endow you with that authority. In any case, your fellows will probably assemble simply out of curiosity. I want every warrior there in the square, Aztéca and Mexíca, not only those who are professional men at arms, but also every able-bodied male of every other trade and profession who has been trained for combat and is subject to conscription in time of war. See to it, Nochéztli!”

  “Er… excuse me, Tenamáxtzin, but some of those warriors lately loyal to Yeyac may well take to the hills at the news of their master’s demise.”

  “We will hunt them down at our leisure. Just be sure you do not disappear, Nochéztli, or you will be the first hunted, and the manner of your execution will be a subject for legend forever after. I have learned things from the Spaniards that would horrify even the most vicious gods of punishment. I kiss the earth to that.”

  The man gulped audibly and said, “I am and will be yours to command, Tenamáxtzin.”

  “Good. Remain so, and you may yet live to die of old age. Once the army is assembled, you will go among the men and mark for me every one, of highest rank or lowest, who joined Yeyac in his groveling to the Spaniards. Later, we shall do the same with the rest of Aztlan’s citizenry. You will mark for me every man and woman—respected elder or priest or meanest slave—who has ever in the least collaborated with Yeyac or been the beneficiary of his patrónage.”

  “Excuse me again, my lord, but chief among those would be the woman G’nda Ké, who is right now in residence at the palace you intend to occupy. She guards the chamber allotted to the captive Lady Améyatl.”

  “I know well enough how to deal with that creature,” I said. “You find the others for me. But now—here are the first huts of outer Aztlan, and the people are emerging to get a look at us. Move to the fore, Nochéztli, and do as I bade you.”

  Somewhat to my surprise—he being a cuilónüi and presumably effeminate in nature—Nochéztli could bellow like the male animal the Spanish call a toro. And he bellowed what I had told him to say, and he did so again and again, and the eyes and mouths of the watching people gaped wide. Many of those folk fell in behind our little train, so Nochéztli and I and Pakapeti were leading quite a procession by the time we got to the paved streets of the city proper at nightfall—and we had a veritable throng behind us as we crossed the torch-lit central square to the wall-enclosed palace.

  At either side of the wall’s broad, open portal stood a warrior guardsman, wearing full quilted armor and the fanged fur helmet of the knightly Jaguar order, each man armed with maquáhuitl sword, belt knife and long spear. According to custom, they should have crossed those spears to bar our entry until our business was made known. But these two men merely gawked at us curiously garbed strangers, our strange animals and the hordes of people filling the square. They were understandably uncertain what to do in these circumstances.

  I leaned around my horse’s neck to inquire of Nochéztli, “These two, were they Yeyac’s men?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Kill them.”

  The two knights stood unresisting, but bravely unflinching, as Nochéztli wielded his own obsidian sword—slashing left, then right—and felled them like so much peskily obstructive underbrush. The crowd behind us gave a concerted gasp, and moved back a step or two.

  “Now, Nochéztli,” I said, “summon a few strong men from this mob and dispose of these carrion.” I indicated the fallen guards and Yeyac’s body, still draped across one of the packhorses. “Next, bid the crowd disperse, on pain of my displeasure. Then do as I commanded—assemble the army in this square to await my inspection, as soon as I am formally attired in gold and gems and plumage as their chief commander.”

  When the cadavers had been removed, I beckoned for Pakápeti to follow, and without dismounting—our other two horses at trail—we rode like conquerors, arrogantly, into the courtyard of the splendid palace of the Revered Governor of Aztlan, henceforward the palace of the Uey-Tecútli Téotl-Tenamáxtzin. Myself.

  XVIII

  UNDER TORCHES BRACKETED around the courtyard wall’s interior, a number of field slaves were still at work at that late hour, tending the many flowering shrubs set in immense stone urns all about. As Pakápeti and I dismounted, we gave the reins of our four horses to a couple of those men. Their eyes bulging, the slaves accepted the reins gingerly and fearfully, and held them at arm’s length.

  “Be not afraid,” I told the men. “The beasts are gentle. Only bring them ample water and shelled maize, then stay with them until I give you further instructions in their care.”

  Tiptoe and I went to the palace building’s main door, but it opened before we got there. The Yaki woman G’nda Ké flung it wide and gestured for us to enter, as brazenly as if she had been the palace’s official mistress or hostess, welcoming guests who had come at her invitation. She no longer wore rough garments suited to the outdoors and her wandering way of life, but was splendidly arrayed. She had also lavished cosmetics on her face, possibly to conceal the freckles that marred her complexion. Anyway, she was handsome to behold. Even the cuilóntli Nochéztli, no admirer of womankind, had rightly referred to this specimen of it as “comely and personable”—but I mainly took note that she still had the lizard eyes and lizard smile. Also, she still referred to herself always by name—or as “she” or “her”—as if speaking of some entirely separate entity.

  “We meet again, Tenamáxtli,” she said cheerfully. “Of course G’nda Ké knew of your journey hither, and she was sure you would destroy the usurper Yeyac on the way. Ah, and dear Pakápeti! How truly lovely you will be when your hair grows longer! G’nda Ké is so pleased to see you both, and most eager to—”

  “Be silent!” I snapped. “Take me to Améyatl.”

  The woman shrugged and led me, Tiptoe following, to the palace’s upstairs chambers, but not to the one Améyatl had formerly occupied. G’nda Ké lifted a he
avy bar from a heavy door and disclosed a room not much bigger than a steam hut, windowless and smelly from being long closed, without so much as a fish-oil lamp to relieve its darkness. I reached out and took the bar from the woman—lest she try to lock me in there, too—and told her:

  “Bring me a torch. Then take Tiptoe to a decent chamber, where she can cleanse herself and don proper feminine clothing. Then return here immediately, you reptile woman, so I can keep you in my sight.”

  Torch alight, I stepped into the little room, nearly retching at the stench of it. The only furniture it contained was a single axixcáli pot, reeking of its contents. There was a stir in one corner, and Améyatl stood up from the stone floor there, though I would scarcely have recognized her. She was clad in filthy rags, her body was gaunt, her hair was matted, her face was ashen, hollow-cheeked, and there were dark circles about her eyes. And this was the woman who had been the most beautiful in all Aztlan. But her voice was still nobly firm, not feeble, when she said:

  “I thank all the gods that you have come, cousin. For these many months I have been praying—”

  “Hush, cousin,” I said. “Conserve what strength you still have. We will talk later. Let me take you to your quarters and see that you are attended and bathed and fed and given rest. Then we will have much to discuss.”

  In her chambers, there were several female servants waiting—a few of whom I recalled from former days—all nervously wringing their hands and avoiding my eye. I curtly dismissed them, and Améyatl and I waited until G’nda Ké returned with Tiptoe, who had been as richly garbed as if she were a princess herself—no doubt the Yaki woman’s notion of ironic japery.

  She said, “All of G’nda Ké’s own new apparel fitted Pakápeti, except the sandals. We had to search for a pair small enough for her.” She went on, conversationally, “Having been afoot and frequently barefoot during so much of her earlier life, G’nda Ké is now most insistent on being luxuriously shod. And she is grateful to have had Yeyac as her patrón—however odious she found him in other ways—because he could indulge G’nda Ké’s fondness for footwear. She has whole closets full. She can wear a different pair of sandals every—”

  “Cease your witless prattle,” I told her, and then presented Améyatl to Tiptoe. “This much abused lady is my dear cousin. Since I trust no one else in this palace, Pakápeti, I will ask you to attend her, and tenderly. She will show you where to find her steam room and her wardrobe and so on. From the kitchens downstairs, fetch for her nourishing food and good chocólatl. Then help her to her pallet, and pile it high with many soft quilts. When Améyatl sleeps, you join me downstairs.”

  “I am honored,” said Tiptoe, “to be of service to the Lady Améyatl.”

  My cousin leaned to kiss me on the cheek, but only briefly and lightly, not to repel me with the prisoner-smell of her body or breath, and went away with Tiptoe. I turned again to G’nda Ké.

  “I have already slain two of the palace guards. I assume that everyone else currently employed here likewise served Yeyac without demur during his false reign.”

  “True. There were a number who disdainfully refused to do so, but they left long ago to seek employment elsewhere.”

  “I charge you, then, have those loyal servants found and brought back here. I charge you also, dispose of the present retinue. All of them. I cannot be bothered with the slaughtering of so many menials. I am sure that you, being a serpent yourself, must know of some venom that can poison them all, and expeditiously.”

  “But of course,” she said, as tranquilly as if I had asked for a soothing syrup.

  “Very well. Wait until Améyatl has been well fed—doubtless the first decent meal she will have had during her captivity. Then, when the domestics gather for their evening repast, see to it that their atóli has been well dosed with your poison. After they are dead, Pakápeti will take charge of the kitchens until we can find reliable servants and slaves.”

  “As you command. Now, would you have these menials the in agony or with ease, quickly or lingeringly?”

  “I do not give a putrid pochéoa how they die. Just see that they do.”

  “Then G’nda Ké chooses to do it mercifully, for kindness comes naturally to her. She will dose their meal with the tlapatl weed that makes its victims the in madness. In their delirium, they will see glorious colors and wondrous hallucinations, until they see no longer. But now, Tenamáxtli—tell G’nda Ké—is she also to partake of this final, fatal repast?”

  “No. I still have use for you. Unless Améyatzin overrules me, when she regains her strength. She may demand that I dispose of you, and in some highly imaginative, not kindly manner.”

  “Do not blame G’nda Ké for your cousin’s mistreatment,” said the woman as she followed me to the royal chambers that had once been Mixtzin’s and then Yeyac’s. “It was her own brother who decreed that she be so inhumanly confined. G’nda Ké was merely ordered to keep barred the door. Even G’nda Ké could hardly overrule him.”

  “You lie, woman! You lie more often and more easily than you change your precious footwear.” To one of the hovering manservants I gave orders to place hot coals and water buckets in the royal steam room, and to do it instantly. To the Yaki woman, as I began to discard my Spanish apparel, I went on, “With your poisons and your magics—ayya, even with your reptilian eye—you could have slain Yeyac at any time. I know you worked your evil charm to aid him in his alliance with the Spaniards.”

  “Mere mischief, dear Tenamáxtli,” she said airily. “G’nda Ké’s usual mischief. Delightedly setting men against men. Merely to while away the time until you and she were together again, and could really ravage and rampage.”

  “Together!” I snorted. “I had rather be yoked with the terrible underworld goddess Mictlancíuatl.”

  “Now you are telling an untruth. Look at yourself.” I was nude by now, waiting impatiently for the servant to report that my steam room was ready. “You are pleased to be again with G’nda Ké. You are wantonly, seductively showing your naked body—and a superb one it is. You are deliberately tempting her.”

  “I am deliberately regarding her as inconsequential, of no account Whatever you see and whatever you think concerns me no more than if you were a slave or a woodworm in the wall’s paneling.”

  Her face went so dark at the insult that her cold eyes glittered out from it like chips of ice. The servant returned and I followed him to the steam room, saying to the Yaki woman, “Remain here.”

  After a prolonged and thorough and voluptuous steaming and sweating and scraping and toweling, I emerged, still nude, to find that G’nda Ké had been joined in the main room by the warrior Nochéztli. They stood apart and eyed one another, he warily, she sneeringly. Before he could speak, she did, and with malice:

  “So, Tenamáxtli, this is why you cared not if G’nda Ké saw you naked. Nochéztli I know to have been one of the late Yeyac’s favorite cuilóntin, and he tells me now that he stands henceforth at your right hand. Ayya, so you keep sweet Tiptoe in your company merely as a disguise. G’nda Ké would never have suspected it of you.”

  “Ignore the woodworm,” I told Nochéztli. “Have you something to report?”

  “The assembled army awaits your inspection, my lord. They have been waiting for quite some time.”

  “Let them wait,” I said, as I began rummaging through the Uey-Tecútli’s wardrobe of formal cloaks, headdresses and other regalia. “It is what is expected of an army, and what an army expects—long tediums and boredoms only occasionally briskened by killings and dyings. Go and make sure they wait.”

  While I dressed—now and then commanding the sullen G’nda Ké to assist me in affixing some jeweled ornament or fluffing up a feathered crest—I told her:

  “I may have to throw away half that army. When you and I parted at the Lake of Rushes, you said you would be traveling in furtherance of my cause. Instead, you came here to Aztlan, just as did your bitch ancestress of the same name, sheaves of sheaves of years
ago. And you did exactly as she did—fomented dissension among the populace, set comradely warriors at odds, turned brother against—”

  “Hold now, Tenamáxtli,” she interrupted. “G’nda Ké is not guilty of every wrong done hereabouts in your absence. It must have been years ago that your uncle and mother returned from the City of Mexíco, and were ambushed by Yeyac, a crime still unknown to almost everybody else in Aztlan. How long he waited to dispatch the co-regent Kauri, G’nda Ké does not know, or how much more time went by before he so cruelly banished his own sister and claimed the mantle of Revered Governor. G’nda Ké knows only that all those things had occurred before she arrived here.”

  “At which time you goaded Yeyac into collaboration with the Spaniards at Compostela. The white men I have sworn to exterminate! And you lightly dismiss your meddling as ‘mere mischief.’ ”

  “Ayyo, entertaining, to be sure. G’nda Ké enjoys meddling in men’s affairs. But think, Tenamáxtli. She has in fact done you a valuable favor. As soon as your new cuilóntli—”

  “Damn you, woman, to nethermost Míctlan! I do not consort in intimacy with cuilóntin. I spared Nochéztli from the sword only so he could expose all of Yeyac’s other followers and fellow conspirators.”

  “And when he does, you will weed them out—warriors and civil folk alike—the traitors, the unreliables, the weaklings, the fools—everyone who would rather obey a Spanish overiord than risk spilling his own blood. You will be left with a smaller but better army, and with a populace wholeheartedly committed to supporting your cause, the cause for which that army will wholeheartedly fight.”

  “Yes,” I had to concede, “there is that aspect to appreciate.”

  “And all because G’nda Ké came to Aztlan and made mischief.”

  I said dryly, “I should have preferred to manage all those ruses and intrigues on my own. Because, when I have, as you put it, plucked Aztlan clean of weeds—ayya!—you will be the one person remaining whom I dare not trust.”