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Authors: Colin Falconer
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apparently of his own volition: “When we were talking with the Mexica, with Tendile ... did you translate exactly what I said?”
I lower my eyes to the ground so they do not betray me. Does he suspect? I told the Lord Tendile the truth, certainly, even though it was not exactly what this fool asked me to say.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You are sure?”
I feel Feathered Serpent’s eyes on me. I know e does not understand what we are saying yet I feel a thrill of fear. “I repeated everything as you said it to me.”
“And they understood it?”
“They understood.”
Aguilar is either a fool or a charlatan and for some reason wishes to subvert his lord Feathered Serpent’s task. If only I could talk with him directly.
“Thankyou, Doña Marina,” Aguilar mutters, although he appears much less than satisfied with me. I am escorted out of the tent by one of the Spanish guards but as I leave I turn around and give Feathered Serpent one last glance and I see that he is smiling at me.
May you be buggered by a porcupine, Brother Aguilar. I shall be his right hand, not you!
———————
Painali, 1507
I am seven years old and my father is trying to explain to me why he had not changed my date of naming to a more propitious day.
“You will be Ce Malinali, One Grass of Penance,” he whispers to me, “because you are fated to find your destiny in disorder and destruction. We have to destroy the Mexica so we can build a new nation.”
I am very young so what he says is incomprehensible to me. It is only when I am older that I realise my name is the reason my mother wished to be rid of me; such a daughter can only bring bad luck to those around her.
My father and I are standing together on the summit of the Quetzalcóatl temple. Above us the blood-star falls down the night sky, its fiery tail pointing towards the Cloud Lands.
“That is your star,” he whispers to me. “It comes to tell the world that the reign of the Mexica is over and the days of Hummingbird are numbered. It is sign that Feathered Serpent is to return.”
His voice is soft and soothing it was, like a hand stroking my head.
“You are of the few. I knew this from the moment of your birth. You will be here when Feathered Serpent arrives and you will help him rid us of the Mexica. I have seen it in the portents in the sky.
“You are both blessed and cursed with a destiny, my little one, my daughter, my One Grass of Penance.”
Chapter T hirteen
Tenochtitlán, 1519 :
It was late, deep into the Sixth Watch of the Night, when Tendile and his fellow lords arrived at the royal palace. Motecuhzoma had given orders that he be woken immediately upon their arrival. The delegation removed their sandals and stripped off their decorated mantles, replacing them with plain cloaks of maguey fibre. Then they were led up the great staircase to Motecuhzoma’s apartments.
Revered Speaker awaited them in one of his private chambers. As they entered they were assailed by the pungent musk of copal incense. Sandalwood glowed in a copper brazier, and Teztcatlipoca, Bringer of Darkness, watched them from the smoky gloom. Woman Snake lay prostrate in front of the altar. A young girl was spreadeagled, naked, over Motecuhzoma’s own sacrificial stone, arms and legs hanging limp, her chest open, her heart cooking in the coals.
A skein of black smoke rose to the ceiling.
Tendile and his officers approached on their faces. Motecuhzoma stepped from behind the slab, his robes wet with gore from the sacrifice. He approached them with the basalt jaguar receptacle that held some of the dead girl’s blood. He sprinkled it over his messengers, to purify them. They had spoken with gods.
Motecuhzoma had hoped for good news, but instead saw a terrible truth written on their stricken faces. “Speak,” he said.
“The great rafts appeared off our coast five days ago,” Tendile said. “We met with the strangers and have hurried day and
I lower my eyes to the ground so they do not betray me. Does he suspect? I told the Lord Tendile the truth, certainly, even though it was not exactly what this fool asked me to say.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You are sure?”
I feel Feathered Serpent’s eyes on me. I know e does not understand what we are saying yet I feel a thrill of fear. “I repeated everything as you said it to me.”
“And they understood it?”
“They understood.”
Aguilar is either a fool or a charlatan and for some reason wishes to subvert his lord Feathered Serpent’s task. If only I could talk with him directly.
“Thankyou, Doña Marina,” Aguilar mutters, although he appears much less than satisfied with me. I am escorted out of the tent by one of the Spanish guards but as I leave I turn around and give Feathered Serpent one last glance and I see that he is smiling at me.
May you be buggered by a porcupine, Brother Aguilar. I shall be his right hand, not you!
———————
Painali, 1507
I am seven years old and my father is trying to explain to me why he had not changed my date of naming to a more propitious day.
“You will be Ce Malinali, One Grass of Penance,” he whispers to me, “because you are fated to find your destiny in disorder and destruction. We have to destroy the Mexica so we can build a new nation.”
I am very young so what he says is incomprehensible to me. It is only when I am older that I realise my name is the reason my mother wished to be rid of me; such a daughter can only bring bad luck to those around her.
My father and I are standing together on the summit of the Quetzalcóatl temple. Above us the blood-star falls down the night sky, its fiery tail pointing towards the Cloud Lands.
“That is your star,” he whispers to me. “It comes to tell the world that the reign of the Mexica is over and the days of Hummingbird are numbered. It is sign that Feathered Serpent is to return.”
His voice is soft and soothing it was, like a hand stroking my head.
“You are of the few. I knew this from the moment of your birth. You will be here when Feathered Serpent arrives and you will help him rid us of the Mexica. I have seen it in the portents in the sky.
“You are both blessed and cursed with a destiny, my little one, my daughter, my One Grass of Penance.”
Chapter T hirteen
Tenochtitlán, 1519 :
It was late, deep into the Sixth Watch of the Night, when Tendile and his fellow lords arrived at the royal palace. Motecuhzoma had given orders that he be woken immediately upon their arrival. The delegation removed their sandals and stripped off their decorated mantles, replacing them with plain cloaks of maguey fibre. Then they were led up the great staircase to Motecuhzoma’s apartments.
Revered Speaker awaited them in one of his private chambers. As they entered they were assailed by the pungent musk of copal incense. Sandalwood glowed in a copper brazier, and Teztcatlipoca, Bringer of Darkness, watched them from the smoky gloom. Woman Snake lay prostrate in front of the altar. A young girl was spreadeagled, naked, over Motecuhzoma’s own sacrificial stone, arms and legs hanging limp, her chest open, her heart cooking in the coals.
A skein of black smoke rose to the ceiling.
Tendile and his officers approached on their faces. Motecuhzoma stepped from behind the slab, his robes wet with gore from the sacrifice. He approached them with the basalt jaguar receptacle that held some of the dead girl’s blood. He sprinkled it over his messengers, to purify them. They had spoken with gods.
Motecuhzoma had hoped for good news, but instead saw a terrible truth written on their stricken faces. “Speak,” he said.
“The great rafts appeared off our coast five days ago,” Tendile said. “We met with the strangers and have hurried day and
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