“I need to know more of your customs. Does the ceremony for the king take place immediately after the ball game?” asked Gathelaus.
“Yes, it does. You will go right from the ball court to the victory celebration. You will still be sweating like a foul peasant and bloody as a priest from the game. It is the way to display honor in remembrance of the twin gods’ prowess,” answered Tezomoc.
“I will do all you ask of me, but I want Coco freed when I go to the ball game. Allow her to leave the city with anything she can carry, as I serve you in the ball game. I want to know she is safe before I do this for you,” said Gathelaus, gritting his teeth. His knuckles were white and is inner rage fumed at this conniving diabolist.
Tezomoc leaned forward, kicking his dwarf away. “I agree. She will be sent away to go whither she will, while you and I forge a new dynasty.” He stood and smashed his wine cup against Gathelaus’s cup, smiling his flat white teeth like a devil. “Very soon, I will be king and you will have everything you need. I don’t betray my good servants, ask Mixamaxtla. You will not be abandoned in a dungeon, I assure you. You may go now.”
The last thing Gathelaus saw before he left Tezomoc’s audience chamber, was the princeling kicking the dwarf who was rubbing his feet.
Gathelaus returned to his new quarters to discover Coco there waiting for him.
“You have ruined my life,” she said. “You are the only one I can talk too now. I don’t understand anyone but you. I need the jade back before I go mad.”
“I don’t have it to give back yet, besides I need it more than you do. I am to be training with Tezomoc’s men for the next three weeks to lose at his ball game,” grimaced Gathelaus, dropping onto a reed mattress.
“And what of me?” Coco asked.
“You stay here with me, you’re a slave no longer. When I go to the ball court for the final game, you will be set free outside the city. That’s the bargain I made with the devil,” he said rolling onto his side.
“Surely you cannot trust him, he will betray us,” she said, leaning down beside Gathelaus, rubbing his sore muscles. “Let us flee in the night.”
“Of course he will betray us. But we are watched for the moment, so we will think of something later after I get some sleep.” Gathelaus rolled over to sleep away the aches and pains.
“How can you sleep now, we must think of something,” she pleaded.
“I slew three men and a giant today. I am getting sleep before I do anything else.”
“If we don’t act now we will be doomed. I need to hear your voice.”
“I have nothing to say I haven’t said before. Go to sleep.”
Winners Never Leave
Mixamaxtla stood erect at the end of the ball court, greeting the rising sun with his corded mahogany arms outstretched. He watched as Gathelaus was shown the spacious rectangular ball court by the old eunuch.
“The whole of it is called the Tlachco and this one is of medium size. It was built by a great forefather of both Tezomoc and king Itzcoatl, one of the original dwellers of the seven caves.” The old man paused to be sure Gathelaus was paying attention. “Here you see the skull racks of the previous players,” he said, gesturing to a series of cross beams and vertical bars, each adorned with a moldering skull with flat teeth. Some still had matted hair and corroded flesh attached, and a general scent of noxious decay lingered about the entrance. Behind the real specimens, artisans had carved ornate representations of the game and especially of those sacrificed and beheaded and finally left to rot.
Gathelaus appeared indifferent but he saw no redeeming quality in this alien practice. True, these people were civilized and had wealth and refinement of a sort beyond anything he had seen back in Vjorn, but this open display of death heads still struck him as a symbol of everything that was wrong with cloistered city life and of worshiping a plethora of sinister gods. He was no friar or priest himself and personally he disdained the zealous priests in the north but regardless of all that, having but one god was much simpler. Less beings to appease and less to potentially run afoul of.
“During the game, the game is the universe. King Itzcoatl’s team represents the forces of the day while prince Tezomoc’s shall represent the night. In addition, each also represents the forces of order and chaos, light and dark, sanity and madness,” said the eunuch.
“What of good and evil?” asked Gathelaus.
Puzzled, the eunuch exclaimed, “I hear the words you are saying but they don’t make any sense. Are you feeling well?”
“Never mind, continue.”
“As I was saying, the game is the universe. While you play therein you are representing the gods, it is the ball court of the gods. And as such, each of you will be wearing costumes in addition to your equipment to designate you. You will be portraying KuKulacan—even though you are on the team of night. Strangely enough there was a position for him still because king Itzcoatl would not have such a weak god on his team. But the people were impressed with your performance in the arena and your calling upon the god to save you, and since you were saved from certain death several times over, the people identify you with the feathered serpent.”
“Am I in a position to have my costume made my way?” asked Gathelaus.
“Certainly, as long as it still adheres to the representation of KuKulacan.”
“Then I will have a design to give the seamstress. Is there a man among you who works in iron?”
“There is one in Chalco who makes fine amulets and jewelry of the rare metal,” answered the eunuch. “He is my cousin.”
“I would like to visit him after my training is through for the day.”
The eunuch bowed. “I will arrange it then.” Then directing Gathelaus’s gaze to the spectator seating and court walls, he said, “From the floor of the court to the top of the wall is twelve feet, giving room to breathe for the spectators—some may be lucky enough to catch a tooth or be splashed with a little of the players’ blood but otherwise remain relatively unharmed,” said the eunuch.
“Unharmed?”
“In the course of play men often die. Exhaustion is the most common but also from fatal blows and kicks and if someone is struck in the head with the ball or perhaps one of the clubs, that will do it too. I once saw Mixamaxtla take a man’s head off with an unsharpened club.” He paused to laugh. “The head, he-he, the head went flying up and the players thought it was the ball and kept it in play, while the real ball was sent into the audience on a missed shot for the ring.” He wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling.
“The ring is the goal?”
“Yes, or any of the six panels on the wall—but you must hit them dead center or it will not count. Even then the hoop is the ultimate goal, the panels only give points to the player that strikes them, not his team. And still it all depends upon if the audience is pleased. Displease the audience enough and a riot may occur.”
“And what could incite a riot?” prodded Gathelaus.
“You should know. Your display of prowess and ingenuity in besting the festival of Xipe-Totec for one thing. If Tezomoc had slain you with bowmen or Mixamaxtla, they would have revolted in anger. It all depends on how they see the gods respected in the arena. If the gods are disrespected, then the people will follow,” said the eunuch.
“What else would make them think the gods were disrespected?”
“You ask too many questions that are not related to the game. But it is possible that if the people thought the games were rigged and their gambling was taken advantage of, then they would revolt. It happened when I was a boy, a lord from Xaltocan cheated and he was torn apart by the hands of the mob.”
“How did they find out that he was cheating?”
The old man’s eyes clouded over as he thought backward through the years. “I don’t know, I was only a boy. I was sold into slavery soon after to pay my father’s gambling debts. Tezomoc’s father bought me and I have served the family ever since. But enough of me, remember to hit the s
ide panels with a good straight shot. If you do it right, the people will love you for it.”
“You say hit, with what?”
“You and I will be using the paddles,” broke in Mixamaxtla. “The rest of the team will be using only their heads, elbows, knees and hips. The ball must not be allowed to touch the ground under any circumstances. Do you understand these things, barbarian or are they beyond you?”
“I understand well enough,” growled Gathelaus.
“We shall strive for a goal through the hoop,” said Mixamaxtla. “But we shall not win the game. It is the king’s ball team that must be allowed to become the victors. Such is Tezomoc’s orders and you will obey or I will kill you.” He stared with hard obsidian eyes, but Gathelaus did not blink or look away.
“Come a little closer,” said Gathelaus, under his breath, clenching his fists.
“There is no need for this,” broke in the eunuch, putting his hand unnecessarily upon Gathelaus’s chest. “He understands and will of course be a great asset to Lord Tezomoc.”
Mixamaxtla grunted. “Well, come on then and I will show you how we train and what we do to keep the ball in play for hours at a time.” He turned and walked down into the court. It stretched for a hundred feet and all along the wall was a sharply inclined ramp section also of stone that rose for about four feet. It would be suitable to run up to intercept a ball but far too steep to stand on. “Come foreigner,” said Mixamaxtla, over his shoulder again.
Gathelaus followed him to the far end where a dozen men were putting thick deerskin pads and face guards on. Thick squares went on elbows and knees, and even bigger pieces across the hips and chest and back. The face guards wrapped around the face and ears protecting the outer perimeter of the head but severely reducing hearing. Mixamaxtla spoke of how hearing was hardly needed as the team held a rhythm with each other and would read signals instead of speaking. He showed Gathelaus the signs and they all repeated them until he had a grasp of most.
“You and I are the only ones on our team allowed the club. We can use it to strike the ball to the hoop, or against the other club wielding team members but we can never use it against a player without a club. They, however, may still hit us if they seek to keep the ball in play—and they will always say that is what they were doing. The only thing you can do to keep enemy players away is make wide strikes at the ball and it is their fault if they run into the club, not yours. I am always swinging to keep the others away and be ready for quick hits, the ball will come at you very fast.” Mixamaxtla picked up a ball and threw it at Gathelaus. He didn’t bring the club up fast enough to direct it anywhere but up, but as it came down again he struck the heavy thing toward the hoop.
The ball flew almost a quarter the distance before one of Mixamaxtla’s men named Xoloc, threw himself down to prevent it from touching the ground, a second man was right behind him to further toss the ball up into the air. And a third bounced it off his hip and back to the first man.
“That was heavy,” said Gathelaus. “What is it made of? I have never seen its like.”
“The ball is made of rubber and very solid. It has killed men when they were struck hard and unaware,” said Mixamaxtla. “We do at times try to injure the enemy while striking the ball, but that must always come second to keeping the ball up and toward the hoop. Though this time we wish it only to look like we want it too.”
“Why does Tezomoc want us to lose?” he prodded, to see what else he might learn from the taciturn warrior.
“We must lose,” snapped Mixamaxtla. “If we get the ball through the hoop, Tezomoc wins but will be shunned by the king for the insult. All of his plans will come to naught. We shall all lose face or worse. And you will not be able to honor the king with the sacred… garland.” The grim warrior briefly smiled at that. “Besides,” he continued, “the true winners of the game never leave the court. They are honored by having their heads placed here forever. I don’t know about you, but I wish a different glory.”
“I think you have another reason,” said Gathelaus, rather belligerently. “Something else for this act of cowardice.”
Mixamaxtla wheeled on him with a scowl. “You dare speak of cowardice to me? I should kill you on the spot!”
“So do it!” challenged Gathelaus.
Mixamaxtla took a step closer but then regained his composure and stormed away.
“That was most unwise,” said the eunuch.
“Oh?”
“He has slain many men.”
“So why did he hold back now?”
“I would imagine,” said the eunuch in a whisper, “it is because he does not wish any harm to come to his family that Prince Tezomoc holds for ransom. Once Mixamaxtla was regarded as the greatest warrior of the people of Mayapan. But when the king sent his armies to subdue and conquer them, so too was Mixamaxtla conquered and his family held hostage these many years. And so the great warrior was brought to bow before the greater lord and as such has become his chief warrior, albeit unwillingly.”
“And how long ago was that?”
“Oh, it has been years I should think maybe ten or twelve.”
“And in all that time, his family has not been released from bondage?”
“Heavens no, I would fear that the warrior would seek to slay my master and return himself to Mayapan. And if that happened he wouldn’t do my lord’s service any longer and that would be disastrous. Don’t you agree?”
Gathelaus grunted a noncommittal response to that. The fate and alien outlook on human life here was something he didn’t think he would ever get used to.
The Bloodletting
Gathelaus and Coco were allowed to visit the markets to have his KuKulacan costume fitted and to see the worker in iron. They had, of course, the eunuch as a guide and a troop of Tezomoc’s guardsmen as escorts.
The seamstress and her guild were given a drawing of Gathelaus’s Kathulian red dragon to work with. “I insist it look like this with a white field,” said Gathelaus. He didn’t care for the symbol of his enemy nation, but he knew the effect it would have on these people.
“It will be done in time for your tournament,” said the seamstress, after taking measurements for every part of his costume. “You are a great man and do the Feathered Serpent honor. The people in the streets pray for you, that you will prevail over the force that opposes.”
“You are insolent woman,” snapped the eunuch. “You act as if the people are unhappy with Prince Tezomoc.” The woman shrugged and went to her work.
Coco looked on, irritated she could no longer understand anyone but Gathelaus.
The eunuch then took Gathelaus to his cousin, the iron smith near the edge of Chalco. His workshop sat as a portion of the outer city walls, to easily be rid of slag and so that the noxious fumes would irritate as few people as possible. The guardsmen were nervous because if Gathelaus escaped it meant their lives. But the old eunuch assured them it was a reasonable request, still they kept Coco with them while Gathelaus and the eunuch went inside to speak.
“Greetings cousin, and this is?” asked the smith.
“Huitzilin, this is Gathelaus, a foreigner who is playing for Tezomoc’s ball team, he wishes for you to make him something for the games.”
“What? An amulet of KuKulacan? A ring?” inquired Huitzilin.
“How much iron do you have?” pressed Gathelaus, looking about the relatively tiny smithy. A small bellows and forge sat cold near a large flat stone that Gathelaus supposed served as an anvil. A few sheets of copper and hammered rusty iron were wedged beside a shelf.
“I have more than enough for any trinket you desire,” answered Huitzilin. “Your ball player is rude cousin.”
“I apologize,” said the eunuch. “But I am sure that whatever trinket he wants, Tezomoc will pay for.”
“I don’t want a trinket,” said Gathelaus. “I want you to craft bracers of iron I can strap to my forearms—both of them, thick as four of those sheets there. And I also want a knife if you can do
it.”
Huitzilin’s jaw dropped “That would take all the iron I own in the world, never has anyone requested so much! Tezomoc could not possibly be willing to pay that much, not in a thousand cycles. This foreigner is mad.”
“What if I told you who will win the ball game?” grinned Gathelaus.
“No, you cannot,” spat the eunuch. But Huitzilin leaned in, licking his lips.
“I can and will to get what I want. Is this man not your cousin? Is he not worthy of our trust? Won’t the outcome of the game make him a wealthy man?”
“Tell me what you know and we can bargain for the iron and labor,” said Huitzilin.
Gathelaus folded his arms and smirked. “Tezomoc will have his team purposely throw the game, we will lose. You bet everything you can on the king and you will be a wealthy man, if I understand your ways here correctly. I want the iron fitted to me before the games. Can you do such a thing?”
Huitzilin rubbed his chin and looked at his supplies. “You swear by the gods this is so?” Gathelaus nodded and the eunuch reluctantly did as well. “I will begin.” He measured Gathelaus and showed him the iron and copper and leather he had, drawing a diagram of the finished gauntlets upon papyrus. Then with a firm handshake Gathelaus and the eunuch left.
“What took so long?” asked Coco, as they walked back to Tezomoc’s villa.
“Just getting everything I can to overcome the odds,” he answered, to Coco’s ears alone.
“You are a bold one,” said the eunuch. “I never said we could trust him.”
“His desire for wealth will keep him silent, if he talks, he will lose his wager.”
A stern new voice interrupted the group. “Gathelaus, champion of KuKulacan, the Nagual Cuauhtémoc would speak with you. Follow me,” said a stony-faced man of soldierly bearing.
Gathelaus looked to the eunuch who grimly replied, “He is the high priest of king Itzcoatl and must be obeyed.”
“More so than Tezomoc?”
The eunuch nodded fervently.
They were led down several winding avenues until they came to a spacious villa,every bit as large as Tezomoc’s. The stony-faced man bid them enter the courtyard and then said, “Here the rest of you may wait.” It was not an invitation so much as an assured order. “Gathelaus, come with me for your audience.” He then went through a wide dark entrance. Looking to Coco and shrugging, Gathelaus followed.
FIERCE: A Heroic Fantasy Adventure (BRUTAL TRILOGY Book 2) Page 16
