As he reached his moment she wondered if her baby would look like Norte or like this hairy Castilian. But she would not have to worry about such a predicament; long before that day came Benitez would have returned to his wife in the Cloud Lands or they would all be dead on Montezuma's altars.
✽ ✽ ✽
Montezuma stared at the dishes that had been laid before him, each prepared in the finest red and black Cholulan earthenware and warmed over tiny clay braziers filled with burning charcoal; fried fish that had been swimming in the eastern ocean just the morning before, brought to him across the plains and the sierra by a relay of specially trained messengers; crow, quail, venison and grasshoppers, each one a delicacy; rattlesnake and agave worms from the desert; larvae nests and salamanders from the lakes; armadillos from the forests. There was a foaming cup of chocolatl, cacao beans mashed and boiled with cornmeal and seasoned with honey.
None of it interested him.
The plates were returned to the kitchens untouched and the gilded screens that guarded his privacy while he ate were removed. His private theatre of freaks and monstrosities performed for him; dancing hunchbacks, juggling dwarves, a one-legged man who lay on his back to spin balls into the air. His musicians played flutes and snakeskin drums.
They scarcely warranted attention.
A servant lit his tobacco pipe and he puffed on the smoke, lost to the byzantine wanderings of his own thoughts ...
... As much as he had always feared the coming of Feathered Serpent, another darker interpretation of recent events had occurred to him. It had been suggested by a chance remark of one of his spies, who had reported malintzin had with him a small mirror in which he could look into the souls of men. As a former priest he knew that Feathered Serpent did not own such a mirror; but his rival, Smoking Mirror, certainly did.
Tezcatlipoca, Smoking Mirror: the god of affliction and anguish and disease, whose particular pleasure it was to disguise himself in many forms in order to bring misery and suffering to human beings on earth. Like Lord Malinche, he was greatly interested in personal riches and whenever he appeared on earth he caused confusion and anguish; exactly as Lord Malinche had done.
A confrontation with Feathered Serpent was terrible enough but at least he had known the perimeters of his dilemma; but what if this was instead a test of his steadfastness? What if Smoking Mirror had for some reason grown dissatisfied with his people, the Mexica, and had come to punish them? What should he do to save himself and his people? How should he act?
He could not find answer to this riddle. All he knew was that tomorrow he must go out and face this bewildering divinity and nothing in his training, either as a priest or as a prince, had prepared him for such an encounter.
Chapter 61
Dawn: mist drifted across the steely surface of the lake, keeping Tenochtitlán yet hidden from view, but the Spaniards could hear the cry of the city’s boatmen and the echo of their wooden clappers as they steered their canoes along the algae-green canals between the chinampas. The stench from these floating gardens belied their ethereal beauty; the crops were fertilised with frequent applications of human manure.
They were on a broad causeway, made of earth and stone flags. Their guides led the way, followed by the cavalry, in full armour, pennons hanging limp from iron lances. Cristóbal del Corral, the standard bearer, tossed his banner from side to side so that it fluttered and whipped in the still morning air. Then came the infantry, led by Ordaz, swords drawn, shields over their shoulders. Cortés was in the rear, Malinali marching on foot on the left of his great chestnut mare; Brother Aguilar and Father Olmedo followed on his right, bearing aloft great wooden crosses. Finally came the great wicker standard of the White Heron, the emblem of Texcála. Some of the Texcálan warriors dragged the wooden carts that held the lombard guns, the rest marched in their traditional cloaks of red and white, jubilant at the prospect of entering the capital of their ancient tormentors.
The sun rose over the dark blue ridge of Mount Tlaloc. As the mist burned away they saw indians darting across the lake in their canoes to witness this remarkable sight. Soon the lake was filled with boats, some with just a single fisher, others huge, holding two or three score people, all paddling as close to the causeway as they dared for a better view. Some ventured too close and one of the war dogs ran barking to the edge of the causeway with foam dripping from their jaws, and they shouted in alarm and paddled frantically away to a safer distance.
Sunlight glinted on newly polished armour and brass trappings and steel lances; the pipers began to play, were answered by the whistles and shouts of the Texcálans.
Then the mists burned away and they were afforded their first view of the towers of Tenochtitlán.
✽ ✽ ✽
At first Benitez thought it must be an illusion, a trick of the light and water. Scores of stone pyramids floated on the haze created by the early morning cooking fires. Skeins of smoke drifted skywards from the temple shrines, from the dawn sacrifices to the Mexican idols.
As the sun rose up the sky it was as if a veil had been lifted away. He twisted in the saddle and realised that there were towns and villages all around them, linked by the causeways and chinampas, a vast and vibrant economy supported entirely by the great lake.
None of them, perhaps not even Cortés, had imagined they were going to find a civilisation as large and as complex as this.
Cortés says we have come as saviours. Why then do I feel like a sheep being herded to the slaughterhouse?
✽ ✽ ✽
They reached the Fortress of Chaloc, a twin-towered castle guarding a fork in the causeway. The iron shoes of the horses clattered on the wooden bridge.
Woman Snake came out to meet them, wearing a cape of elaborately worked flamingo feathers. He had with him perhaps a thousand of the city's most prominent noblemen, a shuffling sea of copper skins, feathered capes, elaborately worked cloaks and waving plumed head-dresses.
Do not look in the least impressed, Cortés told himself. They must not suspect that you find anything in the least wonderful here.
It took almost an hour for this first ceremony of welcome to be completed. Finally they passed through the gates of the fort and headed north towards the capital.
✽ ✽ ✽
An hour later they halted in front of the Gate of the Eagle, at a spot known as Malcuitlapilco, the Tail End of the File of Prisoners. Cortés knew of this gate; Malinali had told him of it the night before. At the inauguration of the Great Temple so many prisoners had been offered up as sacrifice to the gods that the line of prisoners had finished here, with the main gate of the capital still half a league distant. Malinali said that twenty thousand men, women and children had had their hearts torn out on the altars during that festival week.
The shriek of conch shells and the thunder of teponaztli drums echoed across the lake. A great procession appeared from the gates, another carnival of plumes, jaguar skins, and the feathered beaks of eagles. Dwarves hurried ahead, spreading cacao blossoms on the ground.
And Cortés had his first glimpse of Montezuma.
His litter was carried by four of the most senior princes of his empire, including Cuitlahuac and Lord Maize Cobs. A further four nobles supported an elaborate canopy of shimmering quetzal plumes, bossed with gold and silver, with pearls and green chalcolite stones suspended from the fringe. Other caciques walked ahead of the procession, sweeping the ground and unfolding golden carpets.
The procession halted and Montezuma stepped down.
The tlatoani - Revered Speaker - of the Mexica was younger than Cortés had expected. He was between forty and fifty years old, Cortés guessed, tall for an indian, and slim. His skin was the colour of cinnamon and his black hair was cut to the nape of his neck. He did not have a beard but a few long hairs on his chin had been allowed to grow in imitation of one.
He wore a blue and white mantle, richly adorned with pearls, turquoise and opals, the ends of his cloak gathered in a knot at his ri
ght shoulder. On his lower lip was a turquoise labret in the likeness of a hummingbird; his ears and nose were also studded with precious stones. Most stunning of all was his head-dress; feathers of green quetzal and blue cotinga, perhaps four feet high, a breath-taking sight.
He was ceremonially supported by his brother and his nephew and all eyes except those of the most senior princes were turned to the ground.
✽ ✽ ✽
A gentle breeze stirred the pennons on the lances and the plumes in the helms of the Spanish captains. Save for the jangling of brass trappings on the Spanish horses, there was utter silence as the two men regarded each other.
Cortés dismounted and approached, Malinali at his right shoulder. He thought to embrace him, but the two princes who accompanied the emperor stepped forward to block him, alarmed. Cortés took a step back.
Instead he offered Montezuma a collar of cheap glass margajitas, strung on gold filament and scented with musk. Lord Maize Cobs accepted them on Montezuma's behalf. In return he placed over Cortés head a necklace of sea snails, carved from pure gold.
"My lord," Malinali whispered at his shoulder. "These are the emblems of Feathered Serpent."
He noticed that the emperor's hands were trembling. Here he stands at the gates of his capital city, Cortés thought, surrounded by tens of thousands of his own vassals and warriors, and he quakes! At this moment I hold him and his entire nation in my thrall. The Virgin is with me. God has made me invincible.
Montezuma spoke his greeting. "He says he kisses your feet, my lord," Malinali said.
"What?"
"It is a traditional greeting of the Mexica, my lord. It means nothing."
Montezuma spoke again, a longer soliloquy this time. Cortés waited impatiently. When he had finished he looked at Malinali. "Well?"
"It is difficult, my lord."
"Difficult?"
"I do not know whether his meaning is literal .... or poetic."
"Just tell me what he says."
"He says you have suffered great fatigue on your journey and he calls on you to rest here a while. That part is a formal greeting. But then he says ... he says he has been troubled for a long time and that whenever he gazed into the east he knew one day you would come to instruct your servants further. Now the prophecy has been fulfilled and he is glad. He says he has guarded your noble seat for you and now offers you the throne."
Cortés heard Alvarado swear under his breath. "By Satan's black and spotted arse, is he offering you to make you king, my lord?"
"Mind what Mali says," Cortés reminded him. "He may only be gracious." But his own mind raced ahead, calculating.
He considered before he spoke again. "Tell him that I, too, have long wished to gaze on him in person. Tell him to fear nothing from us, for we love him greatly and think on him as a friend."
Malinali relayed his message. Montezuma's face underwent a dramatic change. The transformation was unmistakeable. What Cortés saw on the king's face was relief.
✽ ✽ ✽
They entered the capital down a broad avenue lined with white adobe houses. The city was eerily quiet. Cortés felt eyes watching them from behind the windows and from the roofs but apart from the official welcoming delegation the streets were empty.
It seemed to him that they were being received as conquerors and not as guests. He was tantalisingly close to doing as he had promised his officers, he might win this great city without firing one shot from the cannon or having one man draw his sword. Here was the kingdom he had always dreamed that one day he would possess. All he had to do now was close his fist around his prize.
Chapter 62
They entered the great plaza of Tenochtitlán. On one side stood the rose-coloured walls of Montezuma's own palace, on the other the Great Temple itself. Directly ahead of them, beyond Montezuma's private zoo, was the palace of Face of the Water Lord, Montezuma's father. This was to be their new quarters.
Cuitlahuac himself escorted them there.
It was a paradise; a great court, heavy with the scent of flowers, surrounded a man-made pool seeded with large fish and adorned with painted statues. The palace itself was vast and brilliant with light, the stone walls dressed with lime and polished till they glittered like silver. They looked upwards; the ceilings were buttressed with cedar. They looked down at their feet; the floors were covered with huge tapestries of feather work and cotton.
Fragrant sandalwood burned in the braziers and pallets of woven straw had been laid out for sleeping. The room set aside for Cortés himself contained a throne of beaten gold, inlaid with precious stones.
Cortés was stunned. The palace was so vast a man might easily get lost in its corridors; private rooms opened onto vast audience halls which in turn opened onto patios with steam baths and fountains and gardens. It was beyond imagining. Even the palaces of Toledo and Santiago paled by comparison.
But he must not allow the splendour of these surroundings to blind him to the reality. Despite Montezuma's fine words, nothing had yet been decided.
As soon as they were settled in their new quarters he followed his soldier's instincts and posted sentries around the walls, and ordered everyone to remain inside the palace. For good measure he had the falconets carried to the roof where his gunners fired a salvo of blank rounds that thundered over the city, acclamation of their arrival and warning to their hosts.
✽ ✽ ✽
Cortés was barely settled in his room when Cáceres announced that Fray Olmedo and Brother Aguilar were outside, wishing to speak urgently with him.
Cortés rubbed a weary hand across his face. "Very well. Bring them in."
Olmedo looked abashed, as he often did when coming to Cortés with petitions, while Aguilar assumed his usual expression of painful forbearance. Cortés felt a stab of irritation. No doubt they were here to remind him of his religious duty.
"Well?" Cortés said.
The two men looked at each other. It was Fray Olmedo who spoke first. "Brother Aguilar has raised a matter of great concern," he said.
Cortés kept his silence and glared at them.
Olmedo was intimidated by this tactic; not Aguilar. "I fear that Doña Marina has led the natives of this land to believe that you are a god," Aguilar said.
Cortés felt a vein pulse at his temple. You and your hair shirt morality! I should have left you on the beach in Yucatan! You have been more trouble to me than that renegade Norte. "You both hear for yourselves what I command her to say. What proof do you have that she has falsified my position?"
"From where else could the belief that you are a god have sprung, my lord?"
"I do not know, Brother Aguilar. We are dealing with a people of many superstitions. That is why we are here. To rid them of their devils and bring them the good news of the one true faith."
"And she confounds our good works at every turn! She has told the people you are this Feathered Serpent!"
"You have no evidence of that."
Aguilar clutched his Book of Hours to his breast. "You must let me act as your interpreter once more," he said. "It is the only way you can be sure that your message is not corrupted."
"You do not speak their language.”
"But some of the Mexica speak Chontal Maya. We can ..."
"We can what? Spend all day listening to you chattering away like a bird? It takes long enough to communicate with these people as it is! You fear that our message becomes corrupted? How much worse will it be when it is conveyed through the minds and tongues of four different people!"
"We only fear that you put yourself in jeopardy, my lord," Fray Olmedo said, trying to pacify him.
Cortés slammed his fist on the table. "By my conscience! How do I place myself in jeopardy? What would you accuse me of? Treason? Heresy? Or is it blasphemy?"
Father Olmedo withered in the face of his anger. "It is only that mischievous minds could perhaps say of you ..."
"Say what of me? Well? What more would a reasonable man have me do? Where
ver I could in this land I have destroyed their diabolical idols and impressed their shrines as houses of God. And I would have done more, much more, and yet it was you ... you! ... who stayed my hand. And now you accuse me of blasphemy ..."
"That was not my thought, my lord ..."
Cortés rounded on Aguilar. "And you! You try my patience too far, Brother Jeronimo."
Aguilar blanched. "My lord, I do not fear what is, only how it may seem to be."
"How it seems to be is how it is! I have brought God to this land under the banner of Christ and furthered the interests of my king to the very throne of a great empire! I may soon be in a position to give this great kingdom intact, not only to the King of Spain but to God himself! When others wished to turn back, I alone furthered the cause of our crusade. Do you dispute that?"
"No, my lord," Fray Olmedo said, quickly.
"You have no cause to distrust me or Doña Marina! What must I do to prove to you that I am committed to our cause?"
Fray Olmedo did not speak. It was Aguilar who, with typical bullishness, tried to have the last word. "You must convince them that you are not a god," he said.
"I will mind my duty, Brother Jeronimo. Be sure to mind yours. And do not fear on my account, I shall prove to both of you that I am Christ's champion. I shall prove it to you in such a way that you need never doubt it again."
Chapter 63
When Benítez woke it was still dark. He dressed quickly and went out to the terraced roof. Dawn was yet a dirty lemon stain behind the mountains. Light seeped slowly into a world of alient terror and breath-taking beauty.
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