The Spaniard's Innocent Maiden

by Greta Gilbert

  As they walked, Tula touched the knife that lay concealed beneath her belt. She thought of severing Benicio’s bonds, then realised that by the time she freed him, the guards would have Xanca and Anan at the tips of their spears. Tula imagined pushing one of the guards over the low wall and into the lake, though she was not sure she could accomplish it on her own. Both of the men were at least a head taller than her and twice as strong. There was no escape that did not result in someone’s death.

  Suddenly, Benicio howled. It was a long, desperate bay, like the bawling of a madman. Tula halted Big Deer. The first guard approached Benicio’s head, while the second neared his legs. In a single motion, Benicio kicked the second guard in the stomach and slid off the horse.

  The man went stumbling backwards and Tula knew this was her chance. She lifted her knife and quickly severed Benicio’s bonds. Benicio ran towards the first guard, punching him deftly in the jaw. Meanwhile, the second guard had grabbed hold of Xanca and was pulling her down. Anan jumped atop him, unleashing a barrage of weak punches, and the three struggled upon the ground.

  Benicio pried the second guard from Anan and sent a heavy blow deep into the man’s gut. Then Benicio thrust him over the low wall and into the water. The first guard was staggering to standing when Benicio ploughed into his stomach and lifted him into the water to join the second.

  ‘Can you swim?’ Benicio asked Tula, removing her golden mask.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fast?’

  Tula nodded. Both guards had recovered themselves and were beginning to swim back to the low wall.

  Benicio sliced Rogelio’s arms and wrists free, then handed him Tula’s mask. ‘Go to the great salt lake beyond Tlaxcala,’ he told Rogelio. ‘We will meet you there. Can I trust you to keep them safe?’

  Rogelio nodded gravely, then fixed the golden mask upon his own face.

  Benicio turned back to Tula. ‘We must separate now or perish.’ The guards whom Benicio had tossed into the water were already over the wall. ‘Your sister and Anan have no strength to run or swim. Nor does Rogelio. This is our only hope.’

  ‘Let us swim then,’ said Tula. ‘I am sure that I will best you.’

  A wicked grin stretched across Benicio’s face. ‘I fear you are mistaken, my little enchantress.’

  Benicio hoisted Xanca and Anan on to Big Deer, then slapped the creature on its flank. ‘Hiya!’ he shouted and the horse burst into a gallop, whisking its three masked riders down the causeway and out of the fray.

  The two wet, injured guards staggered after Benicio and Tula while a group of guards running down the causeway began to throw their spears. ‘Now,’ said Benicio, motioning to the water, and Tula jumped from the low wall and dived deep.

  Spears and arrows ripped through the water around her and she imagined herself a dolphin fish swimming away from a school of sharks. She sensed Benicio somewhere near her, but she could not see him. She swam for her life, pushing the water out of her way as she made her way further and further from the causeway. She did not surface for a breath until she was far out of spear shot.

  She looked back at the causeway. Several of the guards had entered the water and were swimming towards them. A guard who was still standing upon the causeway spotted her bobbing head and shouted. She glanced about for Benicio. He burst to the surface much closer to the bridge.

  ‘I bested you!’ she exclaimed. ‘I am closer.’

  Benicio looked around, spying their relentless pursuers. ‘Yes, but who will reach the shore first?’

  ‘I will!’ she said and plunged back into the depths.

  She could hardly catch her breath when she emerged from the lake. She lifted her head and there he was, his arms folded satisfactorily. ‘You may be faster,’ he said, ‘but I will always be stronger.’ He flexed the muscles in his arms and nodded proudly, and she could not help but laugh. He pointed back at the lake. Three men were swimming towards them, while several others travelled down the causeway, pursuing them by land. ‘We must run now,’ he said. ‘Can you run?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered.

  ‘Fast?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  They crested the pass at daybreak. Benicio took Tula in his arms as they gazed out at the great salt lake spread out beneath them. They were hungry, thirsty and completely spent, but they had managed to evade their pursuers.

  They headed for the rocky wasteland around the salt lake, where none would guess they had retreated. ‘Look there,’ Tula said pointing, ‘the animal standing near that cluster of rocks.’

  ‘Big Deer!’ Benicio exclaimed, feeling an unusual flood of joy. Xanca, Anan and Rogelio had survived their journey.

  Bubbling with excitement, Tula went bounding down the slope. He watched as she embraced her sister in a fit of sobs and a strange satisfaction stretched around his heart.

  When Benicio finally sauntered into the small camp, he could hardly remember how thirsty and hungry he was. He embraced Xanca and Anan, and they decorated him with a garland of welcoming words in their lilting tongue. ‘Where is Rogelio?’ Benicio asked.

  ‘This way,’ said Xanca.

  They followed Xanca down a path and around a large boulder and found Rogelio lying in the shade. Benicio stepped forward. ‘I never thought I would say this, but por Diós am I glad to see you,’ said Benicio.

  Rogelio made no move to stand, but he cocked his head at Benicio and slid him a strained grin.

  ‘You feared I would take the horse and the golden masks and be on my way.’

  ‘The thought never entered my mind,’ Benicio lied. He scanned the small camp, searching for the masks. Instead he noticed a thick reed sleeping mat near one of the rocks. There were several blankets lying upon it and dozens of jars of water nearby. Just beyond Rogelio’s foot, a cluster of rocks supported a pot, which appeared to be full of stew. Beside them were many large sacks full of maize meal, chilli, dried beans and various fruits—enough food and supplies for many weeks.

  ‘Where did you obtain so much food?’

  ‘We traded one of the masks at a village nearby. The people were more than happy to give us everything we needed.’

  Benicio raised a brow. ‘Clever.’

  ‘And costly. I would guess that one of those masks is worth the price of half a ship.’

  ‘I would guess the same.’ Benicio grinned, studying his compatriot in wonder. ‘Rogelio, I fear you are in danger of becoming an honourable man.’

  Rogelio shook his head. ‘I fear I am in danger of becoming a dead man,’ he said, glancing at his leg. The wound encompassed Rogelio’s entire thigh now and had become blue at the edges. Rogelio swatted the flies that buzzed above it with a long cloth. When they returned, he merely stared at them in defeat.

  Benicio shook his head.

  ‘Do not pity me, Benicio. Surely I deserve this. Ours is a just God, is he not?’

  Benicio thought of all the good souls who had lost their lives at the hands of the Spanish. ‘I am not sure.’

  Tula squatted beside Rogelio and studied his wound. ‘Lo siento,’ she said. A single tear pulsed down her cheek. She said something to Xanca in their language and soon the three of them were lifting Rogelio to his feet.

  Rogelio shot Tula a look of malice. ‘Take your hands off me, witch. You did this. You hurt me.’

  ‘I am help you now,’ said Tula.

  ‘No one can help me now,’ said Rogelio, his face twisting in pain.

  ‘Within everything, the opposite,’ said Tula and she lifted Rogelio’s leg in her arms and the three made their way slowly down to the lake.

  * * *

  They stayed by the salt lake for seven days, labouring to save Rogelio’s life. Benicio wanted to join them. He craved Tula’s nearness, and he wished to
beg her forgiveness for his behavior that night atop the Templo Mayor. But he was unconvinced that their pursuers had given up their chase. Someone needed to keep watch, so Benicio made camp on the crest above the lake where he faithfully stood lookout.

  Each day, Rogelio was sent to soak in the lake’s salty water, while Tula and Xanca went gathering in the nearby forest. In the afternoon, they packed special herbs into Rogelio’s wound and smothered it in medicinal pastes and tinctures.

  Slowly, Rogelio’s scowl faded. He was able to rest, and soon, to sleep. His wound ceased to weep and his eyes grew brighter. Every day, Benicio would visit him. On the third day, when Benicio joked that a bird wished to nest in Rogelio’s beard, Rogelio let out a hearty laugh. By the fourth day, he was able to stand on his own. By the fifth, he could walk to the lake by himself.

  On his visits to camp, Tula always welcomed Benicio and helped him to gather water and supplies, but she did not look him in the eye.

  He could suspect why. His behaviour atop the Templo Mayor had been beyond disgraceful. He had forced her to the ground, ignoring her pleadings and hoisting his whole body upon hers until she could scarcely catch her own breath.

  He had wanted her so badly in that moment—more than he had ever wanted any woman—though it was no excuse for his behaviour. He wanted to ask her if she could ever forgive him, or even begin to feel the same for him as he did for her.

  Do you not want me as I want you? he wanted to ask her. On the sixth day, he got his answer. He had just finished his lunch and was returning up the slope when Tula rushed to his side. She held a golden mask in her hands—one of two that remained. ‘One for you and one for Rogelio,’ she said in Spanish, gleaming with that proud, adorable grin.

  It took Benicio a moment to absorb the measure of her kindness. There were two golden masks. One had surely been spoken for by Rogelio. She wanted Benicio to have the other? ‘Gracias, Tula, muchas gracias,’ Benicio said, because he wanted to make her grin last as long as he could. ‘But, no, I cannot accept it. It is for you and your family.’ He bowed to her as he thought a Totonac man would.

  But Tula shook her head. ‘No, no, no,’ she said. ‘This is for you. Please, take it. It is your treasure.’

  ‘I cannot take it. It is for your family. For tribute.’

  She shook her head again. She pushed the mask into his hands. ‘It is for your future, Benicio. It is taak’in. For you and your Luisa.’

  If she had loaded her atlatl with her sharpest arrow and sent it hurling at his heart, she could not have hurt him more. Clearly, she wished for him to return to Luisa. That was why she kept saying Luisa’s name, trying to remind him of the woman he wanted only to forget. Tula did not want Benicio, she wanted to be rid of him.

  Benicio steeled himself against the flood of hurt that threatened to topple him. He painted a smile on to his face and shook his head. ‘No, Tula. The mask is for you.’ Then he turned and hiked back to his post.

  * * *

  The next morning, Benicio watched Tula lift her skirts and begin the long hike up the slope to Benicio’s lookout. Her march was full of resolve and his nerves prickled as he tried to divine her purpose.

  ‘Good morning, Tula,’ he said, nodding formally. Thankfully she had not brought the golden mask. Still, he wondered what on earth she had come to tell him.

  ‘Good morning, Benicio,’ she said with a polite smile. She pointed down the slope to where Rogelio was gathering dead branches among the sage bushes.

  ‘Rogelio walks,’ she announced, breaking the heavy silence.

  ‘Thanks to you,’ said Benicio.

  She frowned. ‘I can sit?’ she asked. He nodded and she took her seat on a low rock several paces away. She sat there for many long moments, as if trying to think of how to begin. ‘We can leave soon,’ she said. ‘Go home.’

  Benicio nodded, though a strange pain pricked inside his heart. Return to Cempoala? Already? But of course he had known that this day would come. Benicio imagined delivering Tula to her father and receiving the man’s heartfelt thanks, along with his best wishes to Benicio for a safe passage back to his homeland.

  The problem was that Benicio did not know where that home was any more. He searched for another topic. ‘Your Spanish is very good. How did you learn?’ he asked her.

  ‘Malinali—ah—Marina teach me. Tongue of the future, she say.’

  ‘You stayed with Marina?’

  ‘Yes. I stay with her after...the river.’ Tula looked at the ground ‘She help me. Like a sister.’

  ‘How many sisters do you have?’ Benicio asked, feeling a pang of guilt. It should have been Benicio teaching Tula Spanish, not Marina.

  She held up three fingers. ‘Xanca, Pulhko and now Marina—spirit sister.’ Tula smiled. She cocked her head at Benicio in a way that made his blood race. ‘And you, Benicio? Sisters? Brothers?’

  ‘Two bro—’ Benicio said, stopping himself. He sucked in a breath. ‘Ah, one brother. My other brother died.’

  Tula stayed silent for some time. She shook her head. ‘Lo siento,’ she whispered.

  It must have been the way she said the words, as if whispering them to his soul, for a wave of grief encompassed his body and all he wanted to do was curl up with her upon the ground and press his nose into her hair.

  ‘Thank you for your sentiment,’ he said coolly. ‘My brother was a soldier. He died fighting. In my homeland people have been fighting for many thousands of years. Many kingdoms, rising and falling. Much suffering and sadness.’

  ‘Here it is the same,’ Tula said, sitting up. ‘I learn history and read the ancient codices. First the Old Ones, then the Maya, then the Teotihuacanos, then the Toltecs, now the Mexica.’

  Benicio could not believe his ears. ‘You studied history?’

  ‘Yes—my father teach me the past.’

  ‘I studied history, too.’

  ‘You read the codices?’ she asked, her eyes brightening. ‘You also learn the past?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Benicio. ‘I love to learn.’

  ‘I also,’ said Tula, nodding with enthusiasm. She flashed him dazzling grin. She was so beautiful. Not as a bird that is beautiful, but as the wind that lifts the bird—so full of soft energy and lightness. ‘I learn the past so I can know the future,’ she said.

  ‘What do you know about the future?’ asked Benicio, marvelling at his fellow scholar. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I know that the Mexica grow fat. Too fat. Very soon they will be no more.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, has returned.’

  Benicio remembered Cortés’s ring. ‘Do you think Cortés is Quetzalcoatl?’

  ‘No, but Montezuma think it and he will not fight Cortés. The Mexica will fall. Soon we have new rulers.’

  ‘The Spanish?’

  Tula nodded gravely.

  ‘And when the Spanish rule, what will happen to the Totonacs?’ Benicio asked.

  ‘New masters. New lists of tribute.’ Tula looked out over the salty flat, as if she could see her future in its empty whiteness.

  ‘There must be another way,’ Benicio said.

  ‘Only one other way,’ said Tula. ‘Hide.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Go to the jungle. Live like the Maya.’

  ‘How do the Maya live?’

  ‘In quiet. In secret. Humbly,’ she explained. Tula paused, and he saw a tear form in the corner of her eye. ‘Benicio, I do a bad thing. I no tell you the truth.’

  ‘What? I do not understand.’ She had lied to him?

  ‘You still seek gold for your Luisa, yes?’ She did not wait for a response. ‘Benicio, the treasure not in Tenochtitlan. I know where the treasure is. I always know, but I no tell you. Please forgive me. We go to get now.’
r />   Chapter Thirty-Three

  It was the golden mask that had finally changed her mind. He had insisted that she take it, despite the fact that it represented the only means he had to return to his home. She could not continue to lie to a man like that—a man who would put her needs above his own. Whatever treasure there was to be had in the place depicted on the map would be both of theirs. They could divide it equally. He had saved her life and the life of her sister, after all. The least she could do was help him reach his dream.

  They rode for many days—down out of the mountains, through the lowland forests and finally to the coast, journeying ever southward as they weaved in and out of murky jungles on to beaches of white sands.

  They kept several blankets between them in the saddle, and spoke to each other only when necessary. Benicio had distanced himself from Tula since the moment she had told him that he could return to Luisa as a wealthy man. It was as if in that instant he had ceased to see Tula standing before him and could only envision Luisa.

  And what did Tula expect? He had never told her that he loved her, or gave any sign that his plans had changed. Just because he had fulfilled his part of their pact did not mean that he cared for her. She had been a fool to care for him, and she would not indulge herself in the waves of sadness that threatened to wash over her now. She should have known better. The gods always took loved ones away. It was the law of the world.

  Day followed endless day, and it seemed that the nearer they got to the treasure, the farther they got from each other. Soon they turned inland towards the heart of Maya territory.

  Tula kept her dagger at the ready. The Maya were fierce, secretive people, whose great civilisation had crumbled long ago. Still, they had never been conquered by the Mexica, or anyone else for that matter, and they did not hesitate to take prisoners. They lived in small cities and settlements almost impossible to reach, their once-great cities all but swallowed up by the jungle.

  Tula felt as though she were being swallowed up herself. The days were getting shorter and it should have been much cooler, but the jungle did not seem to know it. Tula wiped her brow as the heat wrapped around her, her thoughts bubbling.