Feathered Serpent (12 page)

  ———————

Puertocarrero shakes me roughly awake. It is deep into the Fifth Watch of the night but he is fully dressed. He indicates to me that I am to follow him. I rise from the sleeping mat, put on a skirt and tunic, and follow him down the cloister. Shadows dance in the flickering torches of pitch-pine on the walls.

We stop outside my lord’s private chamber. Puertocarrero pulls me inside.

I look around, still only half-awake, at the bearded faces of the thunder gods, dressed in their golden armour, torchlight glinting dully on their steel pikes and swords. My lord sits behind a heavy wooden table in the middle of the room, several of these other lords around him, Aguilar too.

He looks up and gives me a gentle smile of encouragement. Three of the Mexica tax gatherers stand in front of the table with heavy wooden collars around their necks. Not so haughty now. Their hands are roped behind their backs, their eyes lowered to the floor in shame for their condition.

But what are they doing here? What is happening?

Aguilar, looking pale and pious, is first to speak. “My lord Cortés wants you to ask these men who they are, where they are from and why they were seized by the Totonacs.”

“But he knows the answer to all those questions.”

“Just do as he says!”

I hate it when he speaks to me this way. But I obey. I address myself to the one by whose cloak and adornments I judge to be the highest ranking of the three here. “Feathered Serpent wishes to know who you are, and why you are here. He also asks why the Totonáca have taken you as their prisoner.”

The man raises his head and regards me down the length of his parrot’s-beak nose. Still too proud for his own good. He resents being addressed by a woman. “We are calpisqui - tribute gatherers - of the great Motecuhzoma. As to why we were taken prisoner - and you will all suffer tenfold for our humiliations - it was done at the behest of your great lord!”

What is the point of this charade? I wonder. My lord knows all this. But I dutifully translate the calpisqui’s reply for Aguilar.

He confers with Cortés, then says to me: “My lord Cortés answers that he certainly did not know what the Totonacs were planning. But when he learned that they were preparing to sacrifice their Mexica prisoners to their gods he decided to intervene. Tell him this is because Cortés considers Motecuhzoma a friend, for he knows he is a great lord like himself and has sent him many gifts.”

Well. What am I to make of this? But it is not for me to fathom the mind of a god. I instead take great pleasure in seeing the Mexicans blanche when I mention the Totonacs' planned ’sacrifice.' How fitting it would be to see you three stretched across a slab!

“The Totonáca told us that our capture was executed on the orders of your lord,” the calpisqui answers, though he seems less sure of himself now.

When Aguilar repeats this to Feathered Serpent, he contrives to look mystified.

Aguilar turns back to me. “My lord Cortés says the Totonacs must be a perfidious and devious people, for he certainly knew nothing about it.”

I stare at the Feathered Serpent. His face is blank and he will not meet my gaze. Why should he lie about this? But once again, I convey his words exactly as Aguilar has spoken them.

The Mexica seem as mystified as myself. One of them says to his fellows: Perhaps he is telling the truth. Why else would he have gained our freedom for us?

While they are debating among themselves, I turn back to Aguilar. “What is happening here?”

“You do not have to know, you are only here to translate.”

Oh, may you be buggered by a leprous porcupine! Do not deign to speak to me this way! I am more, much more, than translator for Feathered Serpent - as we both know!

Feathered Serpent whispers something to Aguilar, who turns back to me with a silken smile. I know what you have been trying to do, the smile says, but I am still his confidante. You are just an Indian and an outsider. “Tell them my lord Cortés is pained to see their austere selves brought to such straits. As they are servants of the great Motecuhzoma and have been arrested with no just cause, they are to be released immediately. Furthermore, he places himself completely at their disposal.”

As I tell them this, the thunder gods step forward and release the thongs at their wrists and remove the heavy wooden collars around their necks. For the second time this day the Mexica are taken quite by surprise.

The calpisqui turns to me. “Thank your lord for his service,” he says, as bewildered as I am. “But tell him that although he has freed us, we cannot leave. The Totonáca will snatch us again as soon as we walk from your protection through the doors of this palace.”

It seems my lord is prepared for their answer and Aguilar already has instructions on how to respond to it. “Tell them they should not fear. Our soldiers will remove them to the coast, disguised in Spanish capes, and they will then be escorted out of Totonac territory aboard one of our ships. They can then go about their business in peace. All my lord Cortés asks is that when he stands once again in the pleasing presence of the lord Motecuhzoma he shall remind him that Cortés is his friend.”

I convey this to them, but I stumble over this last sentiment. How to tell the Emperor of the Mexica that Feathered Serpent, the traditional enemy of Motecuhzoma’s own gods, is actually an ally? I am sure Aguilar must be mistaken. But I convey his words as best as I am able and leave the calpisqui to make of it what he can.

The three Mexica tax-gatherers are ushered from the chamber. Suddenly all the thunder gods are grinning at each other. I stare at them, confused. Why should my lord release these monsters and so betray Gordo, who placed himself in his trust? Why are they so pleased with what has been done?

———————

The next day Gordo is the shell of the man who met us in the plaza just a few days before. He stands quivering before Cortés like a fresh heart in a bowl.

I pass his first utterances to Aguilar, who then whispers to Feathered Serpent. On hearing what Gordo has to say my lord rises from his chair in a rage, his hands bunched into fists at his sides. “What! You let them escape? Were all your guards asleep?”

The
cacique
is trying to explain to me that he does not understand how it has happened and that those responsible have already suffered the consequences; their hearts are roasting in a brazier at this very moment. But my lord does not wait for my translation. After all, he knows far better than Gordo how the escape was managed. During the first watch of the night Guzman and Flores approached the Totonac guards with a jar of Cuban wine, which Gordo’s men found very pleasant. When the Spaniards returned two hours later they were snoring like pigs. The three Mexica prisoners had then been led away, still bound.

But now my lord paces the room like a caged animal, beating his fist into the palm of his hand. I know his rage is feigned and I wonder at the reason for his perfidy.

“My lord Cortés says this is an unmitigated disaster,” Aguilar is saying to me. “Tell this dog he must hand over the other prisoners to us immediately for he obviously cannot be trusted. We will put them in chains and have them transferred to one of our ships.”

Gordo agrees. Of course. Anything the great lord desires.

“My lord Cortés also insists,” Aguilar adds, while my lord raves on the other side of the room, “that Gordo must this day swear allegiance to himself and the King of Spain, his most catholic majesty, Charles the Fifth, in the presence of the royal notary. He must also agree to join forces with us against the Mexica, placing all his warriors at his disposal. Should he fail to do either of these things, he shall abandon him to his fate.”

Suddenly I understand what has been done. I am overcome with admiration. He is indeed a god, for he can wear so many disguises so well. He has played this Gordo like a flute.

I convey my lord’s terms to the Totonac chieftain: he is to place himself utterly at Feathered Serpent’s command. There is a long and deathly silence as the
cacique
imagines the consequences if he should now be left to face Motecuhzoma’s wrath alone. He nods his acquiescence so vigorously his jowls shake.

“Well?” Aguilar asks.

“He agrees,” I say. “You have given him no choice.”  

Tenochtitlán

On occasions of national importance the Supreme Council of the Mexica gathered in the House of the Eagle Knights, inside the Great Temple complex. The room was furnished with low stone benches, decorated with carved reliefs of serpents and warriors. A clay brazier fashioned into the likeness of the god Tlaloc, Rain Maker, warmed the room. Mictlantecuhtli, the god of the dead, his bones protruding through his clay flesh, watched over the deliberations of these emperors and kings, reminding them of the ephemeral nature of life and power.

Motecuhzoma presided over the gathering, as always. Beside him was Snake Woman, his Prime Minister. Also in attendance was his nephew, Lord Maize Cobs, the king of Texcoco; and Motecuhzoma’s brother and heir, Cuitlahuac, the Lord of Ixtapalapa. The chief priests of the temple and the most senior Jaguar and Eagle Knights had also been ordered to this council. All of these great nobles and priests wore only robes of plain
maguey
fibre in the presence of their Emperor, who was himself resplendent in a turquoise cloak of the finest cotton, decorated with a pattern of writhing serpents.

Pine torches crackled on the walls.

“My army is ready to march, as you ordered,” Lord Maize Cobs said. “You have only to give the command.”

“That unfortunate remedy may not be necessary,” Motecuhzoma answered. “There has been a new development. Three of the calpisqui have been released. They were escorted through Totonáca lands by Malintzin’s own soldiers.”

The gathered Mexica nobles shook their head in bewilderment.

“They brought a personal message from this Malintzin. He has conveyed his feelings of friendship to me and has promised to punish the Totonáca personally for the offences they have committed against our tribute gatherers.”

There was a long silence. What to make of such a thing? Incomprehensible.

“Then, just a few hours ago, their companions also returned to Tenochtitlán. They, too, have been saved from the Totonáca sacrificial stones by this Malintzin, who conveyed them to safety on his own war canoes. They said these lords treated them most gently.”

“What does it mean?” one of the old warriors said aloud.

“This woman he has with him,” Woman Snake began, “this - Malinali. She says Malintzin is a god. She says he is Feathered Serpent returned.”

A deathly hush.

“We cannot be sure what this woman says is true,” Cuitlahuac murmured. “Malintzin does not have the elegant speech. They are not his words, they are hers.”

Lord Maize Cobs nodded. “He may only be an ambassador from some far off place. If that is the case, then we must welcome him with good hospitality and hear what he has to say.”

Falling Eagle, Motecuhzoma’s nephew, shifted irritably on his bench. “You should not let someone into your house who will try to throw you out of it.”

“If this Malintzin is indeed an ambassador of another country,” a general of the Jaguar Knights said, “then we should give him the hospitality he is due, as Lord Maize Cobs has said. If he comes dishonestly we have brave warriors who can defend us. What do we have to fear, we millions against a few hundred?”

“And yet Lord Tendile does not believe them to be ambassadors. He thinks they are invaders, come in the guise of gods.”

“Invaders?” one of the chief priests interrupted. “How can so few men invade all Mexico?”

Motecuhzoma, who had said nothing during this debate, now raised his hand for silence. “The calpisqui overheard the Totonáca also calling them gods.”

“The Totonáca were fathered by monkeys,” Falling Eagle said.

“Yet this Malintzin and his followers behave as incomprehensibly as gods. He has come in the year that was prophesied, One Reed, and he landed on our beaches on the day of his name, Nine-Wind.

“What should we do then? If we send our armies against him, and they are victorious, what should happen to us?” He looked around the room, seeing other worried faces. “If we destroy Feathered Serpent we destroy the wind, and without the wind there will be no clouds, no rain and no crops in the field. To vanquish him would be to vanquish ourselves.”

For a long time the only sound was the hissing of burning green logs in the brazier.

“Now he has proclaimed himself my friend and given proof of it. To take up our arms against him would be a needless folly.”

“What if he is not Feathered Serpent?” Lord Maize Cobs asked.

“What if he is?” Motecuhzoma countered. “No, for now we will do nothing. We will wait.”

He rose to his feet to indicate that the council was closed. The gathered nobles fell to their knees as he left the chamber, each of them more frightened now than when he entered the room. Their emperor seemed paralysed by indecision while somewhere on their borders a mischievous hand was manipulating events. Either as a god or as a man this Malintzin was manifestly dangerous. Only the priests seemed satisfied with the interpretation Motecuhzoma had placed on events; the rest of them, the soldiers and the statesmen, did not trust what they did not understand.

But they must be guided by Revered Speaker; they must believe, as he did, that they might yet be spared the doom that had been foretold.

  
———————

Our alliance with Gordo and the Totonáca is done with great public ceremony in the plaza. One of my lord’s moles writes everything down in his book, as Feathered Serpent wishes. Gordo then announces that the Cempoallans will cement this alliance in the normal way.

“The Totonáca and your thunder gods will now make a bond that will last forever. We now present our finest daughters as their wives!”

I turn to Aguilar. “There is to be more mounting of women,” I tell him.

“What do you mean?”

“He is offering my Lord more women for his pleasure. Perhaps this time you should ask for one for yourself.”

Aguilar turns away from me and gives the news to Feathered Serpent.

“My lord Cortés wants you to thank Gordo for his generosity,” he says after some consultation, “but you must remind him that the young women must first be baptised in the Holy Spirit before they can ... accompany a Christian gentleman.”

“They are to be sprinkled outside and in, yes Aguilar?”

His face turns the colour of a ripe chilli.

I know it is not politic to goad him but I cannot help myself. Besides, I am growing anxious now, and Aguilar is an easy target for my frustrations. What if my lord Feathered Serpent should choose one of these women for himself, over me?