Doctor Who: The Aztecs (12 page)

As soon as he was released by the guards, the Doctor went to the garden shed, found the stump of a dead bush, sawed off a section and. sitting himself down on a bench outside, he began to whittle away at it. He was working quietly when Cameca saw him.

‘Of all the Aztecs, the High Priest of Knowledge is the most gentle,’ she said reproachfully.

The Doctor concentrated on his piece of wood. ‘Ian didn’t hit him, my dear,’ he replied.

‘His club was found nearby,’ she countered.

‘Planted nearby.’ The Doctor peeled off a sliver of wood.

‘He is to die.’ Cameca sat down beside the Doctor. ‘No doubt. Butchered by Ixta.’ The Doctor blew off some shavings.

Cameca reached out and placed her hand gently on his knee. If it is your wish,’ she said, ‘let our marriage be postponed’

The Doctor looked at her in silence for a moment and then began to carve a groove around the rim of the piece of wood.

‘What is that you make?’ Cameca asked softly. ‘Something to take my mind off my problems.’

‘Will you permit me to intercede with the High Priest of Knowledge on your friend’s behalf?’

The Doctor placed the piece of wood with the knife on the bench and took her hand between both of his. ‘If you will, I should be eternally grateful to you,’ the Doctor said, ‘but it is Tlotoxl we must contend with’ He gestured to the garden. ‘All this, the peace you know, will one day be destroyed by him and others like him.’ ‘If it is the will of the Gods, it cannot be prevented.’ ‘It was not Quetzecoatl’s will, nor is it Yetaxa’s,’ the Doctor replied.

‘You say the Gods wish an end to sacrifice.’ Cameca sought to understand.

‘Yetaxa speaks for them, but without Autloc’s faith in her their words are wasted,’ he explained.

Cameca stood up. ‘His faith shall be restored, I promise you, beloved,’ and she hurried away.

The Doctor stared after her. In another world, in another time, he mused, then picked up the wood and the knife to get on with the job in hand.

The High Priest of Knowledge stood rigid in front of the throne. Barbara smiled and thanked him for attending her.

‘Such gratitude is due to Cameca,’ Autloc replied formally.

‘Then say it to her for me,’ Barbara said and Autloc bowed. ‘Ian did not strike you down’ The High Priest looked at her directly.

‘The evidence, Great Spirit, would indicate that he did,’ Autloc replied, ‘the club was his and he was in the garden of peace’

‘As were, by a strange coincidence, Tlotoxl, Ixta and four temple guards,’ Barbara added.

Autloc conceded that the High Priest of Sacrifice sought to destroy Yetaxa as a false God.

‘He has every intention of doing so,’ Barbara said. ‘Indeed, he has given me a graphic description of the manner in which I shall die. He has also announced that my handmaiden, Susan, will have her eyes gouged out’ — Autloc winced — ‘for daring to escape with Ian, who is now condemned for a crime he did not commit. In fact, the only detail the High Priest of Sacrifice has left unsaid is the manner of Ian’s death.’

Autloc looked uncomfortably at his posy. ‘Iota will throw him from the parapet just before the darkness comes,’ he murmured.

Barbara stood and came down from the throne. She circled the High Priest. ‘What manner of people are you?’ she demanded in indignation, ‘who wallow in virtue and in bestiality? You Aztecs are schizophrenics. Autloc looked at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, then the realisation dawned in his eyes. ‘You Aztecs,’ he repeated. ‘What manner of people are you? Yes, I yield ground to Tlotoxl on one point. You are not the Great Spirit of Yetaxa. You are not of our nation. I know not who you are nor from whence you and your servants come.’ He pointed to the blood-red curtain. ‘That secret is sealed in Yetaxa’s tomb. A God you may be, but none of my knowing.’ He walked away from Barbara, his posy of flowers against his chin, then turned to face her again. ‘You have prophesied our annihilation if human sacrifice continues, yet you have always spoken softly with respect and affection’

‘There is a legend I have heard, told to me by a wanderer from the desert, of another God far across the oceans, who spoke as you have spoken of gentleness and love, who was taken by those who opposed him and crucified as we crucify common thieves’

Barbara did not reply.

Autloc looked away, and then turned back to her. ‘What I can do, I shall do,’ he said. ‘Farewell.’ And he walked with dignity from the temple.

It was almost finished. The groove encircled the rim and the Doctor had bored a round hole through the centre of the wood, both sides of which he bevelled on the corner of the stone bench. He put his forefinger through the hole to check the smoothness and then spun it with the other hand. It rotated freely and was well balanced. He took it off his ranger and looked at it with a certain pride. He had never made a pulley-wheel before.

He became aware of being watched and looked up. Cameca was standing a few yards away. He stood up and she came over to him.

‘I have spoken to Autloc and he went to see Yetaxa,’ she said.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ the Doctor replied.

Cameca looked at the pulley-wheel. It is finished?’ she asked.

‘Almost.’

‘As is our time together, beloved’ Tentatively she touched the pulley-wheel. ‘I do not understand its purpose but I have always known that it would take you away from me.’

The Doctor put it in his pocket and took her hands in his. ‘I am very sorry, my dear,’ was all he could say.

‘Tomorrow will truly be a day of darkness,’ Camera said sadly.

‘For both of us,’ the Doctor replied.

Cameca gripped his hands. ‘Why is Tlotoxl so determined to destroy Yetaxa?’ Her voice was fierce. ‘To safeguard his own beliefs,’ the Doctor said. Cameca released his hands and bowed her head. ‘We are a doomed people,’ she whispered, ‘and there is no turning back for us.’

A lump came to the Doctor’s throat and he had to swallow hard before he could reply. ‘You are a fine woman, Cameca, and you will always be very, very, dear to me.’

Autloc discretely cleared his throat as he approached them.’I have spoken to whomever the deity is who wears the coiled serpent of Yetaxa on her arm,’ he said with a half-smile.

The Doctor put his hand to his pocket, felt the outline of the pulley-wheel, and thought, that’s it.

‘And I promised to do all that I could to help her handmaiden and her young warrior.’

‘Thank you,’ the Doctor replied respectfully.

Autloc turned to Camera. ‘I would speak with you alone, Camera,’ he said.

She glanced at the Doctor who smiled and nodded. Autloc looked back at him. ‘Farewell,’ he said. ‘I shall pray to Quetzecoatl that you may all re-enter the tomb of Yetaxa in safety.’

‘May your prayers be heard,’ the Doctor replied and he watched them walk away.

Tears glistened in Camera’s eyes.

‘You are sad,’ Autloc observed.

‘I have lost all that is dear to my heart,’ she replied. ‘These visitors have touched the essence of our being,’ Autloc said, ‘and to ignore it would be to deny that which I was, the High Priest of Knowledge.’

Camera looked at him sharply. ‘You are no longer?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘I have lost faith in Huitzilipochtli and in our traditions’

‘Then your tragedy is far greater than mine,’ Camera said. ‘Your entire life has been devoted to the temple. Mine has encompassed but a few days.’ They walked along the path leading to the garden door.

‘We have known each other in trust for many years and I have sought your counsel frequently, Camera,’ he admitted. ‘Perhaps in another nation you would have been the High Priest of Knowledge and I, a seller of vegetables.’

She smiled at the concept.

‘Now, I wish you to do something for me to assist them,’ he continued and took a gold medallion and chain from around his neck, ‘this is the title to my dwelling-place and all I own therein’ He put it in her hand. ‘Tomorrow whilst Ixta prepares the Perfect Victim for sacrifice, the handmaiden and the warrior, Ian, will be brought together under guard before they are escorted to the temple for their punishment’ He squeezed the medallion in her hand. ‘Give that to the guard so that he turns his head away while you conduct the girl, as if for punishment, to the temple’

‘And Ian, the warrior?’ Camera asked.

Autloc smiled. ‘I am sure he will accompany you,’ he said.

‘I shall do it,’ Camera replied, and then asked Autloc about himself.

‘You have nothing. What will you do? Where will you go?’

‘Into the wilderness, Camera,’ he said, ‘to seek the truth of Quetzecoatl.’

‘When?’

‘Now,’ he replied.’ What better time?’ He laid his posy of flowers on a bench and walked out of the garden. Camera thought to return to the Doctor and tell him about the medallion but decided that had that been Autloc’s wish, he would have spoken to her in the Doctor’s presence. So she picked up Autloc’s posy as a memento and went home.

With the dawn came tension as the Aztecs watched the sun begin the journey across the clear blue sky to its zenith, when all knew day would become night. In their minds was one question. would Huitzilipochli accept the sacrifice of the Perfect Victim and give them back his light, which was their life, or would they be IWft to die in eternal darkness? Families stayed in their homes until the appointed hour when they would be summoned to the temple square to pay reverence to the Perfect Victim and, in fear and trembling, worship their Sun God.

The door of Ian’s dark, cramped barracks cell was opened by an armed warrior and the daylight flooded in. Ian blinked several times then went outside where a second warrior pointed with his cudgel towards the Chosen Warrior’s courtyard. Ian walked through the passageway and wondered if this would he his final encounter with Ixta, if he would have a small red circle painted over his heart and have a javelin hurled at it as though he were a life-size clay model. To his surprise he was directed to his old quarters where two warriors stood at either side of the entrance. He went inside and Susan. guarded by another warrior, threw herself into his arms.

‘What’s to happen to us, Ian?’ she asked in desperation.

‘We’re to be taken to the temple,’ Ian replied, ‘and you know what that means, don’t you?’

‘Horrible things!’ She sounded terrified.

‘No, the four of us will be together again; Ian said reassuringly, ‘and thinking about it overnight I’ve come to the conclusion that Tlotoxl and his friends are no match for the Doctor.’

Across the courtyard in Ixla’s quarters the Perfect Victim waited in impatient, drugged euphoria for his deification. His body had been washed and perfumed, his garments were radiantly white, his plumed helmet extravagantly colourful and in his hands he held an exotic posy of flowers and a fly-swatter.

Ixta came from his bedroom wearing the Chosen Warrior’s full ceremonial dress. ‘It will be my privilege as leader of our armies to escort you, O Perfect Victim, to your glory; he intoned.

The Perfect Victim smiled. ‘May victory always sit upon your shoulders,’ he replied.

Tonila waddled in. ‘Let the procession begin, he said. ‘The avenues are lined.’

Ixta looked at Tonila sharply. ‘And what of the girl and my challenger?’ he asked.

‘They will follow at a distance and by another way so that the Perfect Victim’s path to the temple is not defiled before the sacrifice,’ Tonila replied.

‘They should go first,’ Ixta argued.

‘The High Priest of Sacrifice does not wish it,’ Tonila said. ‘They follow the Perfect Victim, but will be punished first. I shall instruct the guard,’ he added and made his way across the courtyard to give explicit instructions to the warrior accompanying Susan and Ian about the route he should take to the temple. Then Tonila hurried away so as not to miss his moment of reflected glory.

The Aztecs watched in awed silence as the Perfect Victim walked slowly along the broad, warrior-lined avenue towards the pyramid and the temple. On one side of him was Tonila, supposedly gazing intently at his posy but his eyes flicked from side to side at the crowd as he tried to gauge the impression he was making. On the other side of the Perfect Victim was Ixta, proudly carrying a gold-studded cudgel, the insignia of the commander of the Aztec armies. But despite the solemnity of the moment, every few seconds someone in the crowd would shield their eyes and look up apprehensively at the sun blazing down on them.

Cameca hurried across the deserted barracks courtyard and went through the passageway. The two warriors outside Ian’s quarters saluted her as she passed them as did the third one inside.

‘What brings you here, Camera?’ he asked.

‘I have been instructed by the High Priests to escort Yetaxa’s handmaiden to the temple,’ she answered. The warrior glanced at Ian.’What of him?’

‘You, alone, will escort him. So dismiss the others,’ she replied.

‘I cannot do that,’ the warrior said warily. ‘It would exceed my authority.’

Camera explained that on the day of a perfect sacrifice the High Priests wanted as little attention as possible drawn to them on the streets. The warrior conceded that Tonila had ordered him to take a different route to the temple. Camera held up the medallion.

Autloc himself told me to give you this proof that I express his wishes.’

The warrior took it from her and studied both sides. ‘It is the title to his dwelling and all his possessions,’ he exclaimed.

‘Who holds it, owns them,’ Camera hesitated and then pointed at Ian.‘ Well, until you deliver him to the temple.’ The warrior chuckled, went outside and sent the other two warriors off to watch the sacrifice. Ian gave Cameca a thumbs-up sign and had the impression that she understood.

‘Mine until we reach the temple,’ the warrior repeated, shaking his head in amusement as he came back inside. It was the last coherent thought he was to have for some considerable time, as Ian laid him out cold with a devastating chop on the base of his neck.

‘I shall escort you to the temple,’ Ian said. He went into the bedroom, took a warriors half-mask and put it on his head ‘We overheard the route to take, didn’t we, Susan,’ he added as he came back to them.