Young Jaguar, The (11 page)

He singled out a warrior who had looked too
obviously ashamed.

“Xicamatl.” The bulky man almost jumped, startled,
near panic. “What has been said?”

“Well, Honored Warlord… you see, we’ve been
thinking…”

“We? How many of you?”

“No, no, only me. And I was clearly… I clearly have
been wrong, you see? This is the shock, the shock of the Emperor’s death… I
would never have…”

“Who was the man who approached you? What did he
have to say?”

“I…” The bulky man quailed under the blazing gaze of
his commander. “I… we… they told, said the Emperor… you know.”

“I don’t know. I have obviously not been approached.
My loyalty was not suspected!” His gaze let the man off, darted toward the
rest. “How many of you have been talked to?”

It was so easy to see the distress of the guilty. If
he had not been so angry, he would be amused. They were so transparent. The
best of the warriors, yet just children sometimes, letting themselves be swayed
by a malicious orator, then allowing their commander to scold and admonish
them, genuinely ashamed.

“You know that doubting the Emperor's lawful rule
would be construed as treason?” His eyes encircled them once again, not blazing
with rage but piercingly cold. “And you know what the punishment for the
treason is? Death, loss of your status, your family sold into slavery. Are any
of you ready to face the consequences? Do any of you still think another
emperor will guide us better?”

Oh, they were frightened now. He made an effort to
calm himself.

“I promise you personally. If I ever hear any of you
doubt our lawful Emperor, I will make sure that warrior is tried for treason
and punished to the highest degree the law directs.”

Leaping down from his podium, he stormed past them,
not sparing a glance to any, displaying much more rage than he actually felt.
He knew he could trust Amatl, his faithful second-in-command, to make sure the
discussions in the warriors’ hall would develop in the direction he wanted.

I wish the Emperor’s troublesome brother would
leave for Coatepec already
, he thought, stepping into the soft afternoon
light.

His rage began to evaporate. Home at long last, he
thought, elated. But a slave was already running toward him up the path of the wide
spotlessly swept avenue and he knew he wasn’t to be let off that easily.

Chapter 12

“Well, now let us me see how you can handle this
toy.”

 Legs wide apart, Atolli shifted his grip on the
wide polished handle and readied himself to fight off another attack. His sword
was heavier than the one he used to practice with in
calmecac
. A real
sword, with the real, sharply polished obsidian blades, seven on both sides.
They sparkled viciously, reflecting the last of the afternoon sun. 

The man attacked mildly, and Atolli had no
difficulty avoiding the touch of the polished stone of his opponent’s Mayan
axe. He leaped aside and made sure his sword was ready for the next blow,
which, indeed, did not make him wait. Never having fought against an axe
before, he evaded the blows nervously, wishing he’d had time to prepare, to
study this particular warfare.

Yet, at least he was well rested by now, his
battered body refreshed, his head free from aching. Briefly, he remembered the
previous night. After a short interview with the Emperor’s very haughty and
irritable brother, he had been led into a small cozy room in the depths of the
Palace’s lower floor, where he had promptly fallen asleep, not waking up even
when a slave came to bandage his head in the morning.

Evidently, his presence was not required anywhere as
he was left to sleep undisturbed well into the high afternoon. By then he had
awakened well rested, his head aching, but bearably so, his body stiff but
refreshed from such a long sleep.

Watching the paintings on the high ceiling, he heard
a maid coming in. She was a plump middle-aged woman, and he studied her as she
went about busily, arranging the contents of a large tray.

His stomach grumbled at the sight of so much food,
and the maid laughed.

“You can eat, while I check on your wounds,” she
said, her melodious voice and lack of accent pleasing his ear.

In the very short time it took him to devour a whole
plate of tamales stuffed with meat and vegetables, she finished smearing her
ointment on his cheek and up his hairline.

“Now what?” he mumbled, attacking a plate with
freshly baked tortillas, feeling better by the moment.

He touched his cheek. It was still hot and swollen,
but the numbness was gone, and the pain it left in its wake – bearable. He had
not cracked his skull after all.

“The warriors will come for you shortly.”

“To do what?”

She shrugged and began collecting the plates.

“Leave the tortillas here,” he said, amused by her
know-it-all glance.

The woman chuckled. “They’ll be pleased to see you
getting better so soon.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

She shrugged again.  “You know better than me. All
kind of important people.”

 “What will they want me to do?”

She headed for the door. “I’m sure your afternoon
will be a busy one,” she said with a laugh, disappearing down the corridor.

Well, the maid had turned out to be well informed,
he realized, following the warriors, who had come to fetch him. None of them
looked familiar. Surely these were not his father’s people.

Oh, but they made him work. His ability to handle
all kinds of weapons was checked so thoroughly, he felt surprised. And
delighted. They wanted to enlist him all right.

And now, fighting the heavy axe of the Mayans in the
depth of the royal forest, he felt obliged to succeed.

Ducking another onslaught, he tried to hack his
sword at his opponent’s thighs, almost reaching the bare strip of skin under
the warrior’s loincloth. The man leaped aside and with the same movement
brought his axe down on Atolli’s shoulder. The polished blade nicked his skin,
but lightly, not intending to hurt more than necessary.

Atolli stumbled, but managed to stabilize himself,
grinding his teeth, not from the pain, but because of the hearty laughter of
the watching warriors. He ducked another onslaught, then blocked a mighty blow
and saw his chance when the man pressed his attack instead of disengaging. As
if giving way under the pressure, he leaned backwards and with the attacker’s
full attention on the duel of arms, kicked at the unsuspecting man’s shins.

The warrior wavered, surprised, and Atolli’s sword
made it easily toward the unprotected ribcage. Frightened, he tried to stop the
blow and was grateful for the warrior who had managed to escape it by falling
onto the ground and rolling away.

He stood there trembling.

“Very good, boy,” said the warrior, getting up. “You
actually managed to make me dirty my cloak.” He turned to his peers. “Not bad,
eh?”

One of the warriors shrugged, unimpressed. “You
could have split him in two before that one, when he let your axe to his
shoulder.”

“Not sure about that. He tried to slip aside. I may
have just wounded him if this were for real.” The man turned back to Atolli.
“Not bad. In one or two market intervals you’ll be ready to fight for real,
boy. Now, get ready for another round.”

***

Tecpatl watched the last of the sun sparkling off
the Feathered Serpent’s magnificent tail. The polished gold shone brightly and
pleasantly, the light it reflected not strong enough to hurt one’s eyes.

The main plaza was still bursting with visitors, but
the patio before the side entrance of the Palace was quiet and relatively
deserted. He paced there impatiently, kicking at the nonexistent dust with the
tips of his sandals. What would the Emperor’s advisers want with him now?

The slave, who’d intercepted him, was very
particular. One of the main Emperor’s advisers wished to discuss a matter of
importance. A campaign to the distant Texcoco, most probably.

He groaned inside. He didn’t want to travel that
far. Such a waste of time, organizing and navigating a fleet of canoes or
traveling by foot all the way around the Great Lake in order to raid a few
unimportant barbarian settlements.  It was not the time to leave the Capital;
certainly not for so long.

He glanced at the gardens, estimating the shadows.
Curse them all into the lowest level of the Underworld! He hadn’t been home for
two days by now. He should have sent Sakuna word, he thought. She would worry
and miss him, pacing her favorite rooftop the way he was pacing the royal patio
now.

Oh, he had missed her. And there was so much to tell
her. She would appreciate his account of the previous night; adore hearing all
about those fascinating foreigners. He loved to relate those stories to her.
Everything that had happened to him would be colored in a different light
through her eyes.

“Greetings, Nephew.”

He turned sharply, the deep voice tearing him from
his reverie.

“Greetings, Revered Uncle.”

The square man stood at some distance, overly erect,
his massive shoulders bulging, the thick arms folded across the wide chest. He
studied Tecpatl with his small squinted eyes as if appraising his nephew, as if
not having seen him properly before.

Tecpatl frowned, not liking that gaze. There was not
enough sun to make one’s eyes squint.

“So, I hear you gave a magnificent speech in your
warriors’ hall,” said the man, not making an attempt to come closer. “Your men
were greatly impressed, I hear.”

“They needed to be reminded as to where their
loyalties should be.” He forced a shrug, his uneasiness growing. The news had
traveled fast. Too fast. Someone must have sent the account of what transpired
straight to the leading adviser. But was it that important?

The lips of the thickset man stretched a little.
“Your warriors are not the only ones who needed to be reminded. Too many people
are not sure of themselves anymore. Many people among those responsible for the
welfare of the Great Capital are undecided. Does it tell you something,
Nephew?”

“It tells me that the Capital is upset with the
passing of their beloved Emperor.”

“True, true.” The exquisite feathers of the man’s
headdress swayed as he nodded thoughtfully. “And yet, I wish it were that
simple.” The cold gaze dwelled on Tecpatl, boring into him, difficult to stand.

Tecpatl stared back, aware of the sweat covering his
back.
Was it still that hot?

He took a deep breath. “I don’t understand what you
are trying to tell me, Revered Uncle.”

“Don’t you?” The bushy eyebrows lifted. “You are a
great warrior, Chief Warlord. Yet, had you been only that, you would never have
made it to this exalted position. Oh no, not every owner of the obsidian sword,
not every straightforward warrior, would make it as high as you did. A person
should be wise, should have a broad enough thinking to enable him to see far.
But you
are
wise; much wiser than you are bothering to show. It suits
you to think simple. It keeps you away from trouble. And I don’t deny it; you
were wise to keep away from the Palace’s affairs. Regretfully, it is not
possible any more. You are our Chief Warlord, and you lead the most important
people in our Empire.” The man shook his head. “They are surprisingly loyal to
you; they think you know better, better even than other leading persons of this
land. So, now those other leading people are forced to treat your opinions with
due consideration. They could not disregard what you think or believe. Do you
see it, Nephew? Do you understand it? You can’t get away with the display of a
simple warrior anymore. You will have to participate in solving our Empire’s
problems.”

“I don’t follow you, Uncle. What are the problems
our Empire is facing? Culhuacan is subdued, the Aztecs are tamed, the Mayans
are under control and not venturing near our lands. Our beloved Emperor is
dead, but his lawful successor is anointed, installed safely upon his marble
throne. What are the problems our Capital is facing?”

The stern gaze bored into Tecpatl, growing more
rigid by the moment. “You are not listening to me, Nephew. I told you to stop
playing simple straightforward warrior. You can’t fool me, Nephew. The Chief
Warlord’s duties are broader than just leading the warriors. In everyone’s life
there comes a time to make decisions. Yours came in late. You’ve been able to
stay away from politics so far, but you can’t do this anymore. Whether you like
it or not, you will have to become a part of the decision-making now. You will
have to choose your side.”

“There is nothing to decide, Uncle. There are no
sides to choose. My warriors will follow the lawful Emperor, the one our late
Revered Ruler asked me to guard personally.
Personally
.”

The thickset man took a step back, regarding Tecpatl
with an almost amused admiration. The edges of the thin mouth moved downwards.

“Oh, I see. So that’s what our late Emperor was
whispering in your ear through his last moments. Oh, his closest advisers
almost tore their muscles, stretching their necks in an attempt to overhear.
And you, oh so subtle, telling us it was nothing of importance. Oh, you are a
deep man, Nephew. A very deep man.” The stretched lips shivered, clasped into a
thin line again. “So, what are we going to do, Warlord? Are you sure you want
to plunge this country into a civil war?”

“I don’t see how it will come to that.”

“Don’t you?”

Tecpatl took another deep breath. “I will not betray
our lawful Emperor, if that is what you want me to do.”

“You will betray your family, instead? In refusing
to follow your Clan Leader, you are betraying your family ties.”

“Our Clan Leader should follow his lawfully anointed
Emperor.”

 “Do you presume to criticize
me
?” The words
hung in the air, rigid and ominous, lacking in emotion. The thickset man seemed
to grow in stature, his suddenly bleak gaze striking in its intensity.

Aware of the effort it took him to stay where he
was, Tecpatl glared at the two black cruel holes, his mouth dry
. You will
not intimidate me,
he thought, clenching his teeth.
For countless
summers you held our whole family in your tight grip, but you've gone too far,
and you are past your prime anyway. You will not intimidate me.

The silence hung, so heavy it seemed even the breeze
stopped rustling in the nearby line of exotic trees.

The thin lips stretched once again. “Well, it’s a
pity that you, of all people, would suddenly take to politics and interpret
your duties so poorly. I expected more from you, Nephew. When fifteen summers
ago your father came to me begging for help, I decided to help you, mostly
because I expected great things from you. I didn’t want to see such a promising
youth going down in disgrace.” The man paused, letting the words sink in.
“Well, if it was a mistake, it’s fifteen summers too late to regret it now. You
are making a great mistake, and I wish I could help you to understand that.”
The massive shoulders shifted, shrugged. “I would hate to see your family, even
this little barbarian of yours, go down when no one is left to protect them.
Although your eldest may survive it, after all. He seems to act wiser than his
father.”

Tecpatl felt his heart leaping, missing a beat, then
beginning to pound powerfully, madly. “How is my son connected to all this?”

“Oh, he has already chosen his side. By enlisting
into the Revered First Son’s guard, he has declared his position, very clearly at
that. Such very promising young man. The First Son’s warriors were impressed
with his fighting skills.”

“He did not enlist into any of the Palace’s guards.
The Revered First Son requested him, but I refused to give my permission.”

“Then he must have been acting independently.” The
squinted eyes glared at him, in full control now, mocking him openly. “Your eldest
son is being trained at these very moments, after pledging his loyalty to the
late Emperor’s First Son.”

“I don’t believe you!” Tongues of fear gripped his
stomach. The man didn’t lie, he could see that. “I want to see him.”