Young Jaguar, The (4 page)

He closed the distance between them in one graceful
leap, and she jumped and cried out, startled, even afraid. Her eyes widened,
and she stared at him gaping, unable to comprehend his presence just yet, so he
scooped her off her feet, then arrested anything she might say with a forceful
kiss.

She fought a little, then relaxed in his arms, her lips
reacting, her body clinging to his, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling
him closer. He put her down carefully on the wet earth and reclined beside her,
not caring about her plants, nor about the slaves that would be appalled at
such
savage
behavior.

The journey, the Palace, the dying Emperor, even his
son’s trouble faded away, melting in the warm afternoon sun, in the gentleness
of her touch, the softness of her skin, the love in her large bottomless eyes,
open for most of the time, radiating her elation and warmth.

Exalted and fulfilled, they lay on their backs and
stared at the cloudless sky. A slight breeze rustled in her plants, those that
were not rumpled under their bodies. He felt her stirring and gathered her in
his arms.

Her laughter trilled.

“So, this is how you, warriors, take the women you
conquer?” she asked, snug in his embrace.

He ran his fingers through her messed up hair as she
moved her head closer, placing it comfortably upon his shoulder. “This is how
we, warriors, take the women we love.”

Her fingers slid down his chest. “I didn’t expect
you before nightfall. I was just about to take a long bath and dress in
turquoise to make myself as pretty as I could for you. I can’t believe you
caught me so unprepared.”

“I see you all beautiful and groomed all the time.
This was a nice diversion.” He chuckled. “When I saw you like that I couldn’t
help but remember the way you were working the fields of your people.”

She giggled. “Oh, I do remember how
aroused
it would make you. That first time, when you were resting by the spring and I
was sent to bring you back to the town.” She laughed and raised her head,
peering at him with such an amused reproach, he wanted to laugh. “Your eyes
were reflecting everything that you wanted to do with me, even if your
self-control enabled you to stay calm.”

“I should have taken you and headed back for
Azcapotzalco that very evening. It would have saved us much trouble.”

She laughed and smoothed the embroidered cotton
skirt down her beautiful legs. “The servants will be appalled.”

He shrugged. “Let them.” Then another thought
occurred and he hurriedly rearranged his loincloth. “The children are nowhere
around, I trust.”

“I think not. Flower should be in her rooms,
spinning most probably. She is such a good girl. Not like her mother at all.”
Her wide smile was free of any guilt. “As for your son, he is most probably out
somewhere, getting into this or that trouble, as usual.”

The word “trouble” hit them simultaneously, and they
jumped to their feet, their happiness evaporating. Atolli!

“Tell me everything you know.” He helped her up and
began rearranging his mud-smeared loincloth once again.

“I don’t know much.” She stared at him, helpless,
voice trembling. “The old Askatl came this morning. He told me to let you know
that Atolli was in trouble and that you should see him as soon as you come
home. I asked what happened, but he just told me Atolli might be expelled from
school. He insisted you have to visit him. Then, later on, Tecuani came from
running around the city–when I told him not to!–and he said it was all over the
marketplace. Atolli and Mecatl broke into one of the temples. They drank
octli
and attacked a girl of the royal blood.” Her shoulders sagged helplessly. “I
can’t believe it to be true. Atolli is not like that. I would sooner believe
Tecuani did some of those things at the same age. But not attacking the girl!”

Tecpatl felt his face draining of blood, his lungs
unable to get enough air. “If he was drunk he could do all sorts of stupid
things,” he said, busying himself with brushing the mud off his richly
decorated cloak. “Come on, let us get into the house. Even if half of it is
true, he is in grave trouble, and I’ll have to see more people than just old
Askatl this afternoon.”

Chapter 4

The cubicle was small and airless, crammed with
baskets and empty pottery jars. Stretching, Atolli and peered at the crack near
the low ceiling.

The sliver of light was still there, for too long
now to excite him. How elated he had felt when it first appeared out of the
darkness, glowing gently and soothingly, reassuring, promising the near dawn break.

He shifted and grimaced at the pain in his back and
upper legs, the parts that took the worst of the beating. The pain was nowhere
near unbearable, but the humiliation of receiving such punishment was almost
more than he could stand. As if he were a filthy commoner!

He ground his teeth, then forced himself to breathe
evenly, deeply, inhaling as much of the moldy air as he could.

The suffocating closeness of the small cubicle was
oppressive. He hated being closed up. The fear that he would never be able to
come out had haunted him for as long as he could remember himself, made him
stay away from closed rooms. But this time it was beyond his power. This time
he may very well stay there forever.

He shivered.  How could he have been so stupid, so
reckless, so irresponsible? Yet, they had done it so many times, breaking away
from school and sneaking back unharmed and undetected. It had become a habit.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Tremendous fun, recently made so much better by
bringing along a flask of
octli
.

He cursed silently. It had taken only one slip to
get caught. Only one silly mistake, and now, they were caught, and their future
was ruined. All because of him.

He felt his nails sinking into his clenched fists
and welcomed the pain. It took an edge off the frustration, off the bottomless
desperation.

He deserved much more than that. It was he who had
made them bring
octli
; it was he who had picked a fight with Elotl and
drawn the attention of the drunken market frequenters. From that moment the
events had gotten out of hand, and he hated the sensation of helplessness it
brought. The way they had fallen onto the temple’s grounds, the way they had
had to be discovered first by the haughty princess who should not have been
there in the first place, then by the priests themselves.

Chictli
!

He cursed aloud. Undoubtedly to save her own skin,
the little whore had maintained that they had forced her to lead them to the
open gate, which, of course, soared their score of crimes right up to the sky.
An assault of a royal family member on top of leaving school without
permission, drinking
octli
and breaking onto the temple’s garden.

Such a whore
!

He should have broken her skinny royal neck while
he’d had the chance, he thought fiercely. Just strangle her, run for the gates
and be off, with no one the wiser.

He relished the thought, then shifted once again,
bumping some pottery with his legs, but taking care not to break anything. They
had enough against them as it was.

Cursing some more, he remembered the hideous night.
First, slapped by the stinking priests, then, hauled back to school to receive
more beating and slapping. Then locked here, in this windowless, airless storage
room to await the decision. Which, of course, could be anything but favorable.
Their humiliation had been endless.

They would be expelled for sure, that much the
priests and the veteran warriors who ran their
calmecac
had promised
them. Which in itself was practically the end of their lives. But who knew what
else the inventive minds of their tormenters would think of to make an example
out of them for the other pupils to fear?

 He could hear Mecatl stretching, than going back to
his even breathing. How, in the name of the Underworld, could he sleep under
such circumstances? Atolli himself did not manage to close his eyes even for
one single moment, although he wished he could. It would make the waiting more
bearable, perhaps.

His stomach tightened as the thought of his father
surfaced, popping up against his will. He had suppressed it with some success
during the night. He would never be able to face his father, never! He had
brought disgrace upon his family, upon the Great Chief Warlord himself.

He shut his eyes to contain the pain. If only they
would let him out! He would do anything, would take any punishment, would work
as hard as a slave, even bring himself willingly onto the sacrificial stones,
to amend the matter. But nothing was expected from him anymore; he was not to
be given the chance to redeem himself.

“Are you all right?” Mecatl’s voice was deep, as
though he’d had an undisturbed night’s sleep.

Atolli drew a deep breath. “Of course. Why not?”

“You’ve been grunting and murmuring, and I’m not
sure you have any teeth left after grinding them all night long. One can’t
sleep with all this cacophony.”

“You seemed to be able to sleep well enough.” Amused
against his will, Atolli chuckled. “Like a woman who wants to look her best for
her nuptials.”

“I want to look my best when they take us out for
more beating. When they shave our heads, my face will be beautifully refreshed,
while yours will be like that of an old woman – blue shades and no teeth.”

“Shut up.” Atolli could not contain his laughter
anymore. “I wish they would just take us out already.”

“Would you rather be tied out there for everyone to
smirk? I kind of like it here.”

“They would never do something like that!”

“Who knows? We are outlaws now, no? They can treat
us as they please, to make an example of us before throwing us out of school.”
There was a trace of bitterness in Mecatl’s voice now.

Atolli clenched his teeth. Under all the lightness
and humor, his easygoing and seemingly unconcerned friend understood the
situation clearly.

“I’m sorry. It was all my idea. It was I who dragged
you into all this. I wish I could do something. I told the old Coyotl
yesterday, when he was preaching on my unworthiness, but he just slapped me
harder and told me to shut up and listen. I’ll tell them again, when they take
us out.”

“Save your breath. They won’t listen and, anyway,
they would not accept anything like that. I’m responsible for my own actions.” Now
there was a smile in Mecatl’s voice, and it made Atolli feel better. “I could
have stayed. You didn’t drag me out by force. Not now, not the twenty times
before that. I could have stayed at school and missed the fun. I don’t regret
anything.”

Atolli’s throat tightened. “You are my best friend,”
he said gruffly. “No matter what happens to us, I will always remain your
friend.” A thought surfaced. “We can enlist as regular warriors and make our
way into the ranks by our own merits, you know?”

Mecatl grunted. “To fight with a spear or a club,
ugh! It’ll take us countless seasons to make it to the real sword.”

“What choices do we have?”

“Not many.”

“Listen, it could be a good idea.” Atolli was
warming to the proposed solution. “We enlist as any peasant or trader, for the
next raid no matter where. Well, not for Culhuacan. My father is leading those raids.”
He swallowed and banished the thought of his father, determined not to let it
spoil his only spark of hope. “We’ll go to the lands of the Big-Headed Mayans.
We’ll join any leader who would be willing to take us. Think about it! We are
so much better than any commoner. We will outdo all of them, and in no time.
Two, three captives to bring home and here we are, qualified to apply for the
elite warriors’ caste anew. Getting back our swords and all.”

Mecatl did not hurry to answer, but Atolli didn’t mind.
The ensuing silence gave him time to examine this brilliant idea, to seek out
its possible flaws. There were no flaws, of course!

“If no leader would have us here in Azcapotzalco
thanks to what happened, we can go away and enlist for another
altepetl
,
maybe Tlacopan or Coyoacan. We can return back here as heroes, our hair locks
decorated with much evidence of captured enemies. Think about it!”

“It could work,” muttered Mecatl, the lightness in
his tone gone. “It may get us out of this mess. The harder way, but we have no
choice, have we?”

“No, no choice at all.” His excitement piqued. “But
it will work. You’ll see it will.”

The door was pushed aside forcefully.

“You, out!”

Unaccustomed to the strong light, Atolli’s eyes
found it difficult to recognize the silhouette in the doorway.

“You out, you stay,” repeated the man curtly as both
youths began to get up.

His limbs aching, Atolli picked his way carefully
between the scattered baskets.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he tossed
to Mecatl, forgetting they were not alone anymore.

“Silence, you insolent brat!” growled the man and
thrust his face forward, threatening.

Atolli lowered his gaze and proceeded to go out,
knowing better than to pick another fight. Blinking in the soft afternoon light,
he paused, his eyes adjusting with difficulty after spending so much time in
the darkness.

He fought the urge to lean against the wooden frame
of the building, his head spinning, throat burning, his muscles cramped, his
body aching as if after a long, strenuous effort.

Clenching his teeth, he followed his guard who
walked away briskly, not paying attention to the prisoner and his ability to
keep up.

***

The beautiful plate in front of his father flickered
gold. Atolli stared at it fixedly.

It stood upon the woven dais and was full of tamales
stuffed with meat. The engravings covering the smooth metal surface glittered
gently in the last of the daylight. Dusk was nearing, and he could hear the
usual sounds from the outside, the slaves preparing for the nighttime, making
sure everything was in order now that the Master was back.

“What you have done is unforgivable.” His father’s
voice was hollow and it rang empty in the semidarkness of the master’s
quarters, echoing between the plastered walls and the various weapons scattered
everywhere in a seeming disorder. “I cannot begin to understand you.”

He would rather have his father rant and rave, maybe
even hit him. The indifferent, detached tone sent waves of panic down his
spine. It was as if his father had already given up on him.

“Look at me!”

He tore his eyes off the golden plate with an
effort. To straighten his gaze took some more of his strength.

Meeting the dark penetrating eyes, made him winced
at the pain they radiated. The pain and the barely hidden… contempt? He
shivered.

“Your behavior was appalling, despicable,
unworthy
of a warrior. Any warrior, let alone the elite one! A common boy from
telpochcalli
would have known better. But you? One of the most promising pupils of your
calmecac
,
after so many summers of training, no more than a season short of your first
campaign!” The dark eyes lost some of their previous detachment, filled with
anger. “Why would you possibly do such a thing?”

It was worse than a beating. His father did not
deserve it. Atolli dropped his gaze to examine the golden plate anew.

“And you know what I can’t forgive you the most?”
The cutting voice hardened, not pausing, not expecting an answer to the
rhetorical question. “You put me, your father and the Chief Warlord of the Tepanec
nation, into the most awkward of positions. If I decided to help you, I would
have to embarrass myself by seeking a favor among my peers. You’ll make me
humiliate myself in order to get you out of the mess you got yourself into
without a single good reason or excuse.”

Atolli made an effort to look back at his father,
but then he wished he hadn’t, the anger and desperation upon the chiseled face
were too obvious and deep. He clenched his fists to stop his hands from
trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and could hardly hear it
himself.

“You are sorry?” A hint of a bitter smile stretched
the thin lips. “I’m sure you are. Unlike your brother, you are not a natural
troublemaker. Yet, now I see that when you do get yourself into a trouble, it’s
one of the gravest.” The dark gaze examined Atolli’s face as if trying to
recognize it, reflecting still a hint of an amused twinkle. “You brother is
always in trouble, but his misdeeds are small, and he makes sure he doesn’t get
caught most of the time. But you? What were you thinking? Breaking into a
temple, of all things! Attacking a girl of the royal family! Did you think you
would not get caught doing this?” The rough palm jumped up, stopping Atolli as
he tried to say something. “But, of course, you were not thinking at all. Do
you know why only grown warriors are allowed to drink
octli
? Because
this particular drink plays with your mind, if you don’t know how to handle it.
It influences your mood; it influences your
thinking
. Only a grown
warrior, who knows how to control himself, can drink
octli
in public.
This is the law. Did you know that?

“But of course you did. You received the best
education in the whole city. You know the laws. You know what happens to the
commoner who drinks
octli
outside his house or is caught roaming around
under its influence. Such a man would be put to death! This is the law. You are
lucky you are not a commoner. But I am unlucky my son was caught doing this. My
son, of all people. You brought disgrace upon me and my family. Do you understand
that? Since I entered Azcapotzalco on the morning, I’ve encountered the
accounts of your deeds. From the Palace to the marketplace, I hear people talk
about my son, not with praise or compliment. No! They speak about the son of
the Chief Warlord with shock and disbelief, shrugging, wondering. In itself it
is humiliating enough. But the necessity to find someone willing to take you as
his shield bearer, a youth now famous for insubordination and lack of
self-control, is a task I would avoid at any cost.
Any
cost!”