The Discovery of Chocolate

by James Runcie

  Yet still I saw nothing that was sufficiently unique to secure my love.

  At the end of the ceremonies Chief Xicotenga said to Cortés: ‘This is my daughter. She is unmarried and a virgin. You must take her and her friends as your wives. For you are so good and brave that we wish to be your brothers.’

  Cortés replied that he was flattered by the gift, but that he would be unable to partake of such hospitality since he was already married and it was not his custom to marry more than one woman.

  Then he looked at me.

  This was, indeed, a beautiful girl. I realised that the longer we stayed here the harder I would find it to resist such attractions. It was already difficult to recall Isabella’s voice, the fall of her hair, the light in her eyes, or the manner in which she walked. It was as if she only existed in her portrait, whereas these women were vibrant and alive, singing into the night sky, building fires, carrying water, and laughing gaily.

  It had been so long since I had heard a woman laugh.

  Cortés brought the woman over to me. ‘Take her,’ he ordered.

  I could not believe it. These people were so keen to give away their women. Surely this could not be right? How could I remain faithful now?

  I looked at Doña Marina.

  ‘Do as he says,’ she said.

  ‘But Isabella …’ I pleaded, ‘my betrothed …’

  ‘You will be the better prepared to love her …’ she continued, ‘and no one need know.’

  The girl led me into a small dark room with a low bed. A fire burned in the corner, and rose petals lay strewn around the floor.

  She took off her skirt and lay down on the bed, motioning me to do likewise.

  I did not know what to do, but began to remove my doublet. The girl pulled at my breeches and removed my stockings.

  Then she placed her naked body against me.

  As she pressed her lips to mine, and I could feel her breasts against my skin, my body surged with excitement. She pulled me down towards her. Her nipples hardened into sharp tips, and she began to move underneath me, pulling me inside her. I was unsure what to do, being, I must confess, a virgin, but let her rock me back and forth. I closed my eyes, imagining that she was Isabella, but then opened them again to look at the rise and fall of her breasts. Her eyes widened and she pushed me deep inside her. Within seconds I was brought to the peak of excitement and exploded like cannon shot. It seemed that we could not be more fully conjoined, our sweat and flesh mingling as one body. For a few minutes we lay panting to regain our breath, until the girl pushed me away from her, put on her skirt, and left the room.

  It was over.

  I was no longer a youth but a man.

  Pedro trotted in through the now open doorway. He sniffed at me, rather contemptuously I thought, and then lay down as if to sleep. I began to dress, and made ready to rejoin the men.

  When I finally emerged, with a tired Pedro following reluctantly, I saw that my companions had been waiting for me.

  Doña Marina came forward.

  ‘That didn’t take very long.’ She smiled.

  It seemed that nothing I did would ever be secret, and that everyone must know my business.

  ‘I’m not sure …’ I began.

  ‘If she was a virgin? I hope she wasn’t …’ Doña Marina replied.

  ‘I cannot marry her,’ I said firmly.

  ‘You are not required to do so. Would you like to see her again?’

  ‘No,’ I said, but then thought of her breasts against me. ‘How long will we be here?’

  ‘Seven nights.’

  Doña Marina looked at me, taking my silence as assent.

  ‘I will send her every night.’

  I did not know whether guilt or excitement was the stronger of the two emotions flowing through my body, but I knew that I had failed the very first test of my quest.

  In the next seven days we began to plan our approach to the magnificent city of Mexico, for we had heard that this was where the greatest treasure lay. The Tlaxcalans urged us against such an undertaking, so outnumbered would we be by the forces of that great city. Even if peace was offered, we were not to believe any of the promises made by its chieftain, Montezuma. But Cortés was adamant, arguing that the whole purpose of our journey was to reach Mexico. He then asked the Tlaxcalans about the best path to the city.

  A volcano stood before us, impeding our progress. This was Popocatépetl, and the local people held it in great awe as it rose out of the hills, threatening to spew forth rocks and hot lava over all that surrounded it. We had never seen such a sight and I decided that this was the moment to try my bravery. I offered to climb to the top and report on the best possible route ahead.

  Cortés was amused by my boldness, asserting that the loss of my virginity had given me renewed courage, and granted me permission for the ascent. Two chiefs from the nearest settlement of Huexotzinco were to be my companions. They warned that the earth could tremble, and that flames, stones and ash were often flung from the mountain top, killing all in their wake; but I was determined to meet the challenge, whatever the dangers.

  It was a difficult ascent and we had to stop at several stages to regain our breath. The light wind seemed to increase the higher we climbed, and the ground was uneven under foot. Pedro picked his way ahead of us, confident despite the sharp stones that lay beneath the snow. At times we had to scramble using our hands across ice and scree, looking down as seldom as we dared. I had never been so far from the level of the sea in my life, and a strange lightness entered my soul, as if I was no longer part of this world. The higher we climbed the smaller things seemed, just as events from our past life recede in the memory and pass into oblivion. Frightened by the unevenness of the ground and the possibility of falling, it seemed at times as if I was dreaming, and I imagined Isabella at the top of the volcano, like the Virgin Mary, dressed in white, judging my infidelity.

  As we neared the summit the wind increased, and we could not hear each other speak. But then, looking out into the distance, I saw the gilded city across the plain, shining like a new Jerusalem in the evening light. It was as if I was both in heaven and in hell, and no other land mattered.

  The purpose of my journey was clear. Even if I became blind at this moment, I would still have seen the greatest sight on earth. I had done what no man of my country had yet done, and, at the end of my life, when the darkness was closing in, I would be able to say to any man who asked that I, Diego de Godoy, notary to General Cortés, servant of our Emperor Charles, was the first Spaniard to climb the volcano that guarded Mexico. All roads, all settlements, and everything the eye could discern led across the Elysian fields to that noble city. It seemed to float on the water, a cascade of houses, each with its own battlements, each with its own bridge to its neighbour. I had heard people tell of the Italian city of Venice, but this was surely far finer, stretching out in an eternal immensity, lit by a light from highest heaven, beckoning all who saw it to journey across the plain.

  I could not see how anyone could ever vanquish such a place, and understood now, in a moment, how all the surrounding peoples could not but submit to its glory.

  Hearing of this vision, Cortés became all the more resolved to leave on the morrow, telling the Tlaxcalans that it was God’s will that he should continue. It was the eighth of November fifteen hundred and nineteen. Everything we had done on this journey, and perhaps even in our lives, had been leading to this moment.

  Four chieftains now approached, carrying a bejewelled palanquin, canopied with vibrant green feathers, decorated with gold, silver and pearls, and topped with a turquoise diadem. The interior was adorned with blue jewels, like sapphires, suggesting the night sky. The figure at the centre stared ahead impassively. Men swept the road before him, and none dared look him in the face.

  This was the great Montezuma. He was perhaps some forty years old, olive-skinned and with a slim figure. His hair was dark rather than black, and he wore a well-trimmed beard. His eyes
were fine; I could not ascertain their colour, but what surprised me most was the mildness of his demeanour. He seemed gentle, despite his power, as if, perhaps, he never had to raise his voice. Supported on the arms of two chiefs he stepped down and wished our General welcome.

  Cortés produced a series of elaborately worked Venetian glass beads, strung on a golden filament and scented with musk. Montezuma bowed to receive them. He then took from his aide a necklace of golden crabs, worked with fabulous intricacy, and hung it on our leader’s neck.

  ‘You are welcome to my city, and will stay in my father’s house,’ he began. ‘These men will show you the way, and my people will be happy to receive you. Rest a while and then feast with me this evening.’

  He turned away, and his servants carried him off into the distance.

  We had never seen such a man, and longed to speak amongst ourselves, but Cortés insisted that we remain silent, warning us to be constantly on the alert, lest we be the victims of some fearsome trap.

  That night I wrote my first dispatch.

  Sent to His Sacred Majesty, the Emperor, Our Sovereign, by Diego de Godoy, notary to Don Hernán Cortés, Captain General of New Spain.

  Most High and Powerful and Catholic Prince, Most Invincible Emperor and Our Sovereign,

  The city of Mexico is of some four score thousand houses, and consists of two main islands, Tenochtitlán and Tlatelcolo, linked to the mainland by three raised causeways, each wide enough to allow ten horsemen to ride abreast. It is almost impossible to attack, since there are gaps in the causeways spanned by wooden bridges that can be removed at the approach of an enemy. Many of the people live on the lake in rafts, or on small man-made islands where vegetables grow: peppers, tomatoes, avocado, papaya and granadilla. The lake is filled with people in small boats, catching fish in nets, selling goods or collecting fresh water. Two aqueducts bring fresh water into the city from the spring at Chapultepec, which opens out into reservoirs where men are stationed to fill the buckets of those who come in their canoes.

  The city itself has many broad streets of hard earth, and is divided into four areas: The Place Where the Flowers Bloom, The Place of the Gods, The Place of the Herons and The Place of the Mosquitoes. The houses are of one, or two floors of stone, capped with flat roofs made either of wooden shingles or of straw laid across horizontal poles. Poorer homes consist of small one-room huts, without chimney or windows, and are made of mud brick on a stone foundation, or of wattle and daub, with thatched gabled roofs. All travel in the city is by bark and canoe, and some of the streets consist entirely of water, so that people can only leave their homes by boat.

  The Central Palace has three courtyards, over twenty doors or gates, and a hundred baths and hot houses, all made without nails. The walls are wrought of marble, jasper, and other black stone, with veins of red, like rubies. The roofs are built of timber, cut from cedar, cypress and pine trees; the chambers are painted and hung with cloths of cotton, coney fur, and feathers. Within this palace there live over a thousand gentlewomen, servants and slaves. The soldiers’ chambers are hung with a luxurious golden canopy. So beauteous does it seem that even if it were to become a prison, many of us think that we could stay here for all eternity.

  On the first night that we stayed in the city there was a tremendous feast. It is impossible to list all the delicacies that were produced: turkeys, pheasants, wild boars, chickens, quails, ducks, pigeons, hares and rabbits. It appeared that anything on earth that moved and could be eaten would be put in front of us. We even heard rumours of human flesh being one of the delicacies, and it would have been impossible to tell if this were the case, so spiced the recipes, so rich the variety of meat. There were locusts with sage, and fish with peppers and tomatoes. There were frogs with green chilli, venison with red chilli, tamales filled with mushrooms, fruit, beans, eggs, snails, tadpoles and salamanders. Small earthenware braziers stood by the side of each dish, and over three hundred men waited upon us, bringing torches made from pine knots when the sky began to darken.

  Montezuma sat at a table covered in cloths with Cortés alone by his side. A screen had been erected so that no one should see them eat, and tasters stood at each end, checking the food before it was served. After the meal three richly decorated tubes, or pipes, filled with liquid amber and a herb they called tobacco were placed in front of them. The screen was removed, and Montezuma encouraged our leader to smoke and drink as we watched jesters and acrobats, dwarves and musicians dance and play and sing.

  Truly, this is a place of wonders, another world, and I urge Your Sacred Majesty to send a trustful person to make an inquiry and examination of everything that I have said in order that your Kingdoms and Dominions may increase as your Royal Heart so desires.

  From the town of Tenochtitlán, dated the fifteenth of November fifteen hundred and nineteen, from Your Sacred Majesty’s very humble servant and vassal, who kisses the Very Royal Feet and Hands of Your Highness – Diego de Godoy, notary to Herná Cortés.

  To tell further of the evening would have been to include information only pertaining to myself for which, I am sure, the Emperor had little concern.

  Yet I know that it was on this night that my life changed irrevocably.

  Five hand-maidens dressed in simple cream tunics now arrived in the banquet bearing an urn. One of these women caught my eye and smiled.

  I could not help but stare. Her olive skin seemed to glow in the half-light, and her dark hair shone.

  She gestured to the urn, brought over a jug, and poured a deep brown liquid into my goblet.

  Bringing the drink to my lips, I found that the beverage had a cool and bittersweet taste, enlivened perhaps with chillies, and that it was not possible to discern its full effect with ease.

  The woman nodded at me, encouraging me to continue.

  Supping again, the strangely comforting taste began to intrude upon my palate as if one sip could never be enough. It was a liquid that only inspired further drinking, and it began to fill my entire body with its smoothness, as if I need no longer fear the affliction of the world; and all anxiety might pass.

  I smiled at the woman and made a gesture to inquire as to the nature of the drink. She replied with one word: ‘Cacahuatl.’

  At this the soldiers around me roared, jesting that I had drunk liquid caca, and that it would soon emerge from my body as a substance no different from the way in which it had entered.

  I turned away with great sadness at their vulgarity. They had not tasted as I had tasted. They had not felt their life change in an instant.

  As the meal progressed, I found that I could think of nothing else. I wondered what kind of life this woman led and where she lived. Did she make the beverage, or simply serve it? Perhaps I could learn something of the language and speak to her? The drink had left me so desirous of more that I wondered if perhaps it was a kind of medicine, or if I had been drugged, so tired did I now find myself.

  As I lay on my mat that night, under a dais of yellow silk, I realised that I could no longer think of Isabella, but only of the mouth and eyes of the woman who had served me, savouring the sense of ease and peace she had provided. I fell into a deep sleep and dreamed that this woman was coming towards me, slowly and relentlessly, and that I could not escape. Backing away, I could not take my eyes from hers, as she kept walking towards me. Isabella’s voice came into my head, telling me to go, to run away, into a forest. I turned and ran, but found myself in an orchard of fig trees, where Isabella’s pet canary lay dead on the ground. The lady with the cacahuatl was looking down at the bird, and then said, in Spanish, ‘Voló golondrina’, the swallow has gone, the opportunity is lost.

  What could this mean?

  I awoke with a start, greatly troubled by my dream, and found a return to sleep almost impossible. It was clear that I would find no rest until I saw the lady once more.

  The next morning we began our exploration of the marketplace. Stalls filled with exotic and extraordinary goods had been set
out as far as the eye could see: embroidered cloths, capes and skirts; agave-fibred sandals, skins of wild beasts, cottons, sisal and ropes; robes made from the skins of pumas and jaguars, otters, jackals, deer, badgers and mountain cats. There were stalls selling the richest of spices: salt and sage, cinnamon, aniseed and black pepper; mecaxochitl, vanilla, ground hazelnut and nutmeg; achiote, chillies, jasmine and ambergris. Stalls of firewood and charcoal jostled with traders roasting fowl, foxes, partridges, quails, turtle-doves, hares, rabbits, and chickens as large as peacocks. There were even weapons of war, laid out for purchase, as their owners sharpened flints, cut arrows from long strips of wood and hammered out axes of bronze, copper and tin. There were flint knives, two-handed swords, and shields, all ready to be bartered, exchanged or sold.

  There were thirty thousand people here, each in search of new delights. The method of buying and selling was to change one ware for another; one gave a hen for a bundle of maize, others offered mantles for salt. But everything was priced, and for money they used the strange brown almonds I had seen one of the natives spill in his canoe when we first arrived. These, we were told, were the beans of the cacao tree, and were held in great regard. One of them could buy a large tomato or sapota; a newly picked avocado was worth three beans, as was a fish, freshly prepared on a stall and wrapped in maize. A small rabbit would sell for thirty beans, a good turkey hen might cost a hundred, and a cock twice that amount.