Jaguar Princess

by Clare Bell

  “My apologies,” he said curtly, “but haste required it.”

  “It is well. I needed to see you. Mixcatl has become a prisoner in the House of Scribes. When the history that she and I are working on is completed, I fear she will be put to death.”

  Wise Coyote leaned forward in his icpalli. “Why? Did someone else witness the attack on the boy from the calmecac? Was that boatboy a spy in disguise?” He halted, thinking that his words might be a complete mystery to Nine-Lizard, since the old man probably didn’t know about the incident.

  “I know in part what happened that day,” said the scribe, fixing the king with a steady gaze that Wise Coyote found unsettling. “When Seven-Flower Mixcatl returned to the House of Scribes, she confided in me, although she did not understand what had happened to her. No. The imprisonment stems from another incident involving a young priest wearing a jaguar skin.”

  Wise Coyote listened as Nine-Lizard related the events that had taken place when the girl had stumbled into the young cleric, who was visiting the House of Scribes on an official errand.

  “I tried to smooth things over,” said Nine-Lizard with a sigh, “but too many people witnessed the incident. Charges of sorcery are being whispered against her and she has been made captive, supposedly for her own protection.”

  The old man’s voice fell silent and Wise Coyote found that he could hear the sound of his own breathing. His icpalli creaked as he shifted his weight.

  “Glyph-painter, I have never believed in sorcery, yet what I saw that morning in the plaza has no explanation,” he said quietly, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “Who is this girl? Why is such strangeness visited on her?”

  “The only ones who can answer that, tlatoani, are the Jaguar’s Children.”

  “Then send word to them,” said the king impatiently.

  “I have done so. They do not reply.”

  “Why not?”

  Wise Coyote watched as Nine-lizard took a deep breath and looked at the floor, his shoulders bowed as if he were remembering some old and deep shame. “They have turned their backs on me. It was an ancient crime and done in the recklessness of youth; I cannot tell you more.”

  The king stared at the old man and drew his cloak about his shoulders.

  “You are the last hope she has,” said Nine-Lizard. “The priests of Hummingbird will soon clamor for her death on the altar.”

  “Why does it matter so much to you? Are there not other apprentice scribes who are worthy of your tutoring? Why this girl?”

  He saw Nine-Lizard clench his gnarled old fists and look up into empty space as if challenging an enemy. “The Jaguar’s Children refuse to accept my word. Even I doubted at first, but there have been too many strange happenings that cannot be explained away. She is the incarnation of Tepeyolotli, Heart-of-the-Mountain, the one they have been waiting for through a thousand New Fires.”

  Wise Coyote felt his heart beat fast in mixed dread and hope. Could this scribe girl indeed be what Nine-Lizard had implied, a descendant of the Olmec Magicians and an incarnation of the Jaguar? Could she lead him to the path he most sought or stand with him against the might of Tenochtitlan?

  “Does the young woman know her heritage?”

  “No, and she must be taught quickly or the powers that she has may become dangerous,” said Nine-Lizard. “Take her into your court, tlatoani, and take me as well. She will need someone to guide and teach her, and I, even with my poor skills, may be able to provide what she needs.”

  “Once you advised me not to bring her to Tezcotzinco. What has changed your mind?”

  “I will not lie to you, prince of Texcoco. Bringing Mixcatl to your court will have its own dangers. Indeed, if I find a way to return her to the Jaguar’s Children, her stay with you should, I pray, be short.”

  The king knitted his brows. At first he had been eager to offer sanctuary to a gifted scribe who might be endangered by the priests of Left-Handed Hummingbird, but now…

  He found it difficult to say the next words. “I confess some trepidation. After seeing what happened when the girl became enraged by teasing…”

  “You fear she will actually become a great cat and you will have to cage her,” said Nine-Lizard. “In truth, I do not know if she can complete the transformation yet. I hope that my presence may prevent that from happening before she is ready.”

  “There is also the history that you and she are preparing for Ilhuicamina.”

  Nine-lizard stroked his curly beard. “Your library here is well known. Perhaps the document might be improved if we were to have access to your records as well as to those in the capital.”

  “Someone will have to convince Ilhuicamina,” said Wise Coyote. Inwardly he winced, knowing who that someone would be. And Tenochtitlan’s ruler hadn’t been very willing to listen to him lately. No matter. He would have to try. For his own sake as well as the girl’s.

  He summoned the men who had “stolen” Nine-Lizard and bade them to return him to the House of Scribes. And to handle him with more respect.

  Then Wise Coyote went into his quarters to plan his own trip to Tenochtitlan.

  Wise Coyote’s reception at Ilhuicamina’s palace was somewhat different than he had anticipated. Instead of being made to wait while the Aztec finished other business, he was ushered into Ilhuicamina’s private suite of chambers and told that the Aztec would cut his business short to dine early that evening with him.

  The tlatoani of Texcoco was at once delighted and yet wary. Ilhuicamina would not treat him so unless the Aztec wanted something and he wondered, with trepidation, what that favor might be. In a side-chamber within the Aztec’s living quarters. Wise Coyote prepared himself for the occasion, taking out the simple gold lip plug that he usually wore to keep the hole punched beneath the margin of his lower lip from closing. In its place, he inserted a much more ornate one with several finely wrought pieces and dangling chains held together with gold wire.

  He put on his finest loincloth and richest cape, then put patterns on his face with a pottery stamp dipped in dark-brown paint. He bound up his hair into the honored warrior’s tail, then put on a gold pectoral, anklets and wristlets. And last of all, he settled his turquoise coronet on his head.

  He was seated first, in a cushioned icpalli before the table. Even the customary screen would be taken away so that Wise Coyote might share the Speaker-King’s presence as well as the luxurious repast set before him.

  Servants gave him a mug filled with chocolatl frothed with vanilla, and offered him one of the same gold straws that Ilhuicamina used.

  Ilhuicamina came in, looking as majestic as ever in an embroidered turquoise cape, edged with scarlet and held with a worked-gold clasp. He too wore the blue coronet, with a tail of shimmering green quetzal and parrot feathers.

  “That Snake Woman of mine,” he said, complaining about the male official who managed domestic affairs for the Aztec state. He plumped down in his wicker seat across from Wise Coyote, his cape billowing over the back. “How he bores me with his endless talk of trade and taxes! Well, I do not have to be bothered with it, but I wish he would learn that I do not even want to hear about the petty details.” He leaned forward, inhaling steamy aromas as richly dressed woman-servants brought in various dishes.

  “Ah, a favorite of mine!” said Ilhuicamina, catching hold of a plate of rolled pancakes before the servant had placed it on the table. “You must have some of this, my esteemed friend. The pancakes are stuffed with the most delectable filling, stewed tadpoles and cactus worms.”

  The first time Wise Coyote had faced this formidable dish of traditional Aztec cuisine, he had balked, but he had found the stuffed pancakes surprisingly tasty, even if a tadpole or two seemed to wriggle in his mouth. This appetizer was followed by a spicy dish of prickly-pear fruit steamed with fish roe, and frogs with green chilies. The less exotic items included roast wild pork and pheasant from the hills.

  Wise Coyote made the best of the opportunity. Even his own palac
e kitchen in Texcoco could not come up with as many and as varied a selection of dainties as was laid before the king of Tenochtitlan. Knowing that Ilhuicamina gave greater respect to those whose bellies were as capacious as his. Wise Coyote ate out of duty as well as enjoyment, but he did not indulge to excess, for he wanted to keep his mind clear.

  Throughout the meal, Ilhuicamina alternated enthusiastic remarks about the food with grumbles about his Snake Woman. “I think I will ask the Council of Commanders to choose me a new Snake Woman,” Ilhuicamina said, as Wise Coyote was settling back into his icpalli and wiping his lips with a wetted cotton cloth.

  “Does the present one not govern ably and well?” asked Wise Coyote, who knew the man by reputation, although not by acquaintance.

  “He has the mind of a merchant and great enthusiasm for petty details. He is annoyingly lacking in fervor for the tasks I consider most important, such as the building of new temples in the conquered cities of my empire.” Ilhuicamina took an impatient swig of his chocolatl and splashed the drink on his face. Wise Coyote glanced away as the Aztec swore and ordered servants to clean him up.

  Wise Coyote’s heart sank, for he knew what Ilhuicamina was about to ask of him. His engineering skills had been praised ever since the opening of the Chaultapec aqueduct. Who else would Ilhuicamina choose to supervise a large-scale building project?

  “Hummingbird deserves to have only the most glorious temples raised to him. You, among all men, have the gifts to serve him well.”

  “I am deeply honored by your faith in me. Which city is to be honored by Hummingbird’s first shrine outside Tenochtitlan?” Wise Coyote forced himself to ask.

  “I have considered that question carefully. Since, naturally, you will want to make modifications as you build, the site should be close to your own source of stone. And, so that the project will not interfere unduly with your duties, I have ordered that it be located within your own city of Texcoco.”

  Wise Coyote felt a flash of bitter hatred, but he kept his expression smooth. He knows how the rites of Hummingbird sicken me. And he dares to imply that Texcoco stands among the list of the conquered, even though his armies have not yet set foot on my lands.

  He took a sip of his own drink and replied, trying to sound unconcerned. “I believe you have made allowances for my convenience that are really not necessary.”

  Ilhuicamina smiled, but there was a hard look in his eyes that told Wise Coyote that he knew exactly what he was doing. Careful. You are within his grip. Lose your temper now and you will be crushed. Play along with him, but do not make it too easy.

  “Before we proceed further, I have a request to make of you.” Wise Coyote felt the tightness of the muscles between his shoulders and wished he had a slave to massage them. “The favor is but a small one. There are two excellent glyph-painters in your House of Scribes. I wish to have them at my court. One came recently from Tlacopan. The other is a gifted apprentice.”

  Ilhuicamina pursed his lips, then picked his teeth. “The scribe Nine-Lizard Iguana Tongue and his apprentice are working on a history that I commissioned. Could you not take two others?”

  “The history could be completed at Texcoco,” said Wise Coyote, using his silkiest tones. “If those scribes also had the use of my library, it would improve the accuracy of their work.”

  “Do not let me catch you sticking in anything about your Tloque Nahaque,” Ilhuicamina said petulantly, then slapped Wise Coyote’s shoulder and laughed. “None of your scholar-gods for my kingdom of warriors.”

  “I would not dream of doing any such thing,” said Wise Coyote. “May I have the two scribes?”

  Ilhuicamina grumbled to himself, rubbing his chin. “There was something about that apprentice—Snake Woman was too lazy to look into it so I had another official inquire. Oh, yes, now I remember. Some incident with a young cleric. There were accusations involving the bewitchment of a jaguar skin.” He frowned.

  Wise Coyote waited, forcing himself to breathe evenly. He had no idea that the incident with the young priest had traveled this far up in Aztec officialdom.

  “The priests of Hummingbird wanted to have the offender sacrificed,” Ilhuicamina said with a yawn. “In fact I intend to give my permission once the history is complete.”

  “I have no interest in the life of a glyph-painter,” said Wise Coyote, trying to sound indifferent. “But I need the talents of both scribes, for the history and for research of my own.”

  “Because it is you, I agree,” said Ilhuicamina, putting his arms behind his head. “But remember, the girl has been accused of sorcery. If I hear rumors of such doings at your court, I will be greatly displeased.” He sat forward, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. “Now, about the temple to Hummingbird.”

  Wise Coyote wet his lips. He had secured the two scribes and perhaps had bought the girl’s life, but was it worth the price Ilhuicamina was asking him to pay?

  It makes no difference. If I do not agree now, Ilhuicamina will force me and give no favors in return.

  Taking a breath Wise Coyote began, “In choosing a site, I must bear in mind considerations other than a supply of stone.”

  “Yes. The devoutness of the workers who will labor and the people who will worship is most important. I am told that the city of Texcoco eagerly awaits Hummingbird on the Left. Who am I to deny the hunger of your people?”

  Especially when I have resisted bringing his bloody abomination into my city. And well he knows that.

  “My request is that of one friend to another,” said Ilhuicamina, picking up his glazed mug of chocolatl. “Let it remain so.”

  “I will be honored to undertake the task.” Wise Coyote picked up his mug, but the drink had become suddenly bitter on his tongue.

  Ilhuicamina clapped his hands to summon a servant. “Enough! I tire of talk. Let there be drums, juggling and well-fleshed women to dance for us. Friends should enjoy themselves, prince of Texcoco!”

  Wise Coyote leaned back against the stuffed pillows of his icpalli. He had wrested a small compromise from the prospect of utter defeat. The girl Seven-Flower Mixcatl and the old man Nine-Lizard Iguana Tongue would soon be on their way to the palace at Tezcotzinco. Soon he would know more about the mystery that was beginning to ensnare him, but the prospect left a chill in his gut that could not be warmed by draughts of agave wine. Nine-lizard had spoken of dangers and he had already seen for himself that the old man’s words were not just senile babblings.

  And the specter of a blood-washed shrine to the Aztec sun god standing nearly on his doorstep in Texcoco was a nightmare that had already begun to haunt him.

  What have I done, he thought, fighting to keep despair from showing on his face. Slumping back into his icpalli, he forced himself to watch the dancing girls.

  12

  A BOAT CAME at night to take the two glyph-painters from the House of Scribes across the lake. Mixcatl had already been told by Nine-Lizard where she was going and why. When the touch came on her shoulder she woke quickly and, without asking any questions, took up the bundle in which her brushes, paints and blank books were packed. Silently she bid farewell to the House of Scribes and followed Nine-lizard down the stone steps into the night-damp air.

  She thought that they would embark at once, for she saw the shape of a waiting craft lying in at the dock near the House of Scribes. Instead, Nine-Lizard led her away from the quay, across a plaza and into the courtyard of a large house. A man hailed him, he answered and the door flap was pulled back, allowing them to enter.

  “Do not let the girl touch anything,” a voice said, and as the speaker came forward, Mixcatl saw that he was robed as a healer. “Have her walk on these mats and bring her into this chamber.”

  Though puzzled and a little angered, Mixcatl followed Nine-Lizard as he crossed the mats and entered a small room, brightly lit with torches. It too was floored with mats.

  The healer and an assistant came in behind Mixcatl and Nine-Lizard.

  “Remove your
garments, both of you,” said the assistant gruffly to Nine-lizard.

  The old scribe narrowed his eyes. Clearly he had not expected this. Mixcatl felt her uncertainty and irritation grow into anger. “What is this? Are we being stripped like some common slave at market, so your master may see more clearly what he is getting?”

  “My master. Wise Coyote, has requested that you and your companion be examined and found free of disease or infirmity before embarking for Texcoco,” the healer said calmly.

  Mixcatl felt Nine-Lizard’s hand, warm and callused, on her shoulder. “What he asks is reasonable,” he said softly. “Wise Coyote knows what happened to you that morning in the city. He just wants to make sure that you do not have an illness you could give to others. They will do us no harm.”

  Slowly Mixcatl began to untie the shoulder knot of her cloak. The marks on her arms and hands were fading, but still distinct. She wondered if the healer would scowl at her because of the disfigurement.

  Her hands trembled a little on the hem of her huipil blouse as she began to pull it off over her head. When she was younger, she had run about barechested and unconcerned, but now she was aware of her young breasts. She understood why the examination had to be done, but she found herself resenting the fact that as a female slave, she was allowed less modesty than she would have if freeborn.

  Out of politeness, Nine-Lizard turned away. The healer’s expression was pleasant, but she still found it difficult to undo the ties of her short skirt and let it fall about her ankles.

  Once all her garments were off, the healer went over her briskly and efficiently, but gently. He did raise his eyebrows at the marks. He felt the shape of her head, muttering to himself uneasily. Opening her mouth, he felt her teeth gingerly, as if expecting them to be sharp, then dictated to his assistant, who was scratching down some crude glyphs on a piece of fig-bark paper.

  “These marks on her arms,” the healer said to Nine-Lizard. “How did she acquire them? It does not look like the result of wounding or burning.”