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Authors: Colin Falconer
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Tendile took time to assume his composure and former dignity, re-gathering it around him like a cloak. He pointed to Alvarado.
“He asks Tonatiuh if he can have his helmet as a gift for my lord Motecuhzoma,” Aguilar said to Cortés.
Alvarado laughed when he heard the request. He removed his cabasset, and tossed it to Malinali. “He may borrow it for a while if he returns it filled with gold!”
Cortés thought to stop him but Malinali had already translated what he had said. He wished sometimes he could control Alvarado’s tongue. Such a request too baldly revealed their intentions.
Tendile frowned at Malinali and an urgent discussion followed.
“What does he say?” Cortés asked.
“Evidently,” Aguilar said, after conferring with Malinali, “he asked what is so very special about gold.”
There was a tense silence. Several of the Spaniards exchanged glances.
Cortés considered a reply. “Tell him,” he said, “that we Spaniards all suffer a terrible disease of the heart. Gold is the only cure. That is why it is so special to us, that is why we need it so badly.”
“Amen to that,” Jaramillo said and grinned.
———————
Tendile left with a promise to return soon with word from Motecuhzoma. Cortés tried to suppress his excitement. All this talk of gold. They were so close now.
He looked at the Indian girl, Malinali. “Give her my thanks,” he said to Aguilar. “In future she will stay by my side, to help me speak with the Mexica.”
Aguilar started to protest. “But my lord …”
“Just do it, Aguilar,” Cortés said and walked away. More than a pretty face, he thought. He wondered what other secrets lay behind those black and velvet eyes.
———————
MALINALI
Feathered Serpent’s tent has been pitched behind the dunes, in the shade of the palms. The royal blue silk whips in the ocean breeze, the wind which he alone commands. He sits behind a wooden table, his valet and major-domo standing at his shoulder on either side.
I watch him, fascinated. He has the eyes of an owl man and when he holds you in his gaze you cannot look away. For the first time I notice the small scar on his chin and lower lip, that is partly concealed by his beard. Perhaps he was once attacked by the Earth Monster, as happened to another of the gods, Tezcatlipoca.
He says something to Aguilar and Aguilar then turns to me. “He wants to know where you learned to speak the language of the Mexica.”
“I am not a native of Tabasco,” I answer. I wonder how much I should tell him. I am too ashamed to reveal all of it. “I come from a place called Painali. There we have the elegant speech - Nahuatl . When I was a child I was ... captured ... and made a slave. “
Feathered Serpent leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “He asks if you know of this Motecuhzoma,” Aguilar says.
“I went to Tenochtitlán only once, when I was a small girl. He passed in the street, borne on a palanquin. I know only that he is the richest prince in the whole world. But he is also very cruel.”
“This city - Tenochtitlán. What is it like?”
I direct my answers to Feathered Serpent, even though it is Aguilar who speaks. I want Feathered Serpent to see that I am a Person, and not afraid. “Tenochtitlán is built on a lake in the middle of a great valley surrounded by mountains. It is the most beautiful city in the world. Perhaps one hundred thousand people live there.”
Aguilar smiles when he hears this. He thinks it is an empty boast, he thinks I see things with a peasant’s eyes. I detest his smug smiles and cruel eyes.
“Are they a rich people?”
Now it is my turn to smile. “The Mexica own half the world, and half the world pays them tribute each year.”
Feathered Serpent nods, satisfied. He is a god and so he already knows the answers to these questions and is testing me.
“He says you will be well rewarded for your service,” Aguilar tells me. Then he asks,
“He asks Tonatiuh if he can have his helmet as a gift for my lord Motecuhzoma,” Aguilar said to Cortés.
Alvarado laughed when he heard the request. He removed his cabasset, and tossed it to Malinali. “He may borrow it for a while if he returns it filled with gold!”
Cortés thought to stop him but Malinali had already translated what he had said. He wished sometimes he could control Alvarado’s tongue. Such a request too baldly revealed their intentions.
Tendile frowned at Malinali and an urgent discussion followed.
“What does he say?” Cortés asked.
“Evidently,” Aguilar said, after conferring with Malinali, “he asked what is so very special about gold.”
There was a tense silence. Several of the Spaniards exchanged glances.
Cortés considered a reply. “Tell him,” he said, “that we Spaniards all suffer a terrible disease of the heart. Gold is the only cure. That is why it is so special to us, that is why we need it so badly.”
“Amen to that,” Jaramillo said and grinned.
———————
Tendile left with a promise to return soon with word from Motecuhzoma. Cortés tried to suppress his excitement. All this talk of gold. They were so close now.
He looked at the Indian girl, Malinali. “Give her my thanks,” he said to Aguilar. “In future she will stay by my side, to help me speak with the Mexica.”
Aguilar started to protest. “But my lord …”
“Just do it, Aguilar,” Cortés said and walked away. More than a pretty face, he thought. He wondered what other secrets lay behind those black and velvet eyes.
———————
MALINALI
Feathered Serpent’s tent has been pitched behind the dunes, in the shade of the palms. The royal blue silk whips in the ocean breeze, the wind which he alone commands. He sits behind a wooden table, his valet and major-domo standing at his shoulder on either side.
I watch him, fascinated. He has the eyes of an owl man and when he holds you in his gaze you cannot look away. For the first time I notice the small scar on his chin and lower lip, that is partly concealed by his beard. Perhaps he was once attacked by the Earth Monster, as happened to another of the gods, Tezcatlipoca.
He says something to Aguilar and Aguilar then turns to me. “He wants to know where you learned to speak the language of the Mexica.”
“I am not a native of Tabasco,” I answer. I wonder how much I should tell him. I am too ashamed to reveal all of it. “I come from a place called Painali. There we have the elegant speech - Nahuatl . When I was a child I was ... captured ... and made a slave. “
Feathered Serpent leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “He asks if you know of this Motecuhzoma,” Aguilar says.
“I went to Tenochtitlán only once, when I was a small girl. He passed in the street, borne on a palanquin. I know only that he is the richest prince in the whole world. But he is also very cruel.”
“This city - Tenochtitlán. What is it like?”
I direct my answers to Feathered Serpent, even though it is Aguilar who speaks. I want Feathered Serpent to see that I am a Person, and not afraid. “Tenochtitlán is built on a lake in the middle of a great valley surrounded by mountains. It is the most beautiful city in the world. Perhaps one hundred thousand people live there.”
Aguilar smiles when he hears this. He thinks it is an empty boast, he thinks I see things with a peasant’s eyes. I detest his smug smiles and cruel eyes.
“Are they a rich people?”
Now it is my turn to smile. “The Mexica own half the world, and half the world pays them tribute each year.”
Feathered Serpent nods, satisfied. He is a god and so he already knows the answers to these questions and is testing me.
“He says you will be well rewarded for your service,” Aguilar tells me. Then he asks,
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