Young Jaguar, The (12 page)

“Oh, it won’t be difficult to arrange. Our future
Emperor’s warriors are training around the ponds, not far away from this
patio.” The man motioned the hovering slave.  “Call the warriors who are
training the Honored Warlord’s son,” he called out. “And hurry.”

Tecpatl clenched his palms to stop them from
trembling, his rage so frustrating he feared he would not be able to control
it. Could it be true? Could Atolli really be so stupid as to enlist into the
service of the Emperor’s disgruntled brother against his father’s better
judgment?

He knew the answer to that. The young man was
frustrated and anxious to prove himself. He could have done even worse than
that.

He forced himself to breathe evenly.

“No need to worry about it, Nephew.” The old man was
saying. “It’s not the worst of fates. Actually, given your son’s previous
troubles, he was offered a very good chance, better than his behavior has
warranted. And you didn’t even have to humiliate yourself by asking some of
your friends to take him as a shield bearer. Think about it.”

Tecpatl stared at the mocking eyes, afraid to say
anything, not trusting his temper.

“Think about everything. Think hard.” The old man
was obviously misinterpreting his silence, thinking that his resolve was
weakening.

Tecpatl clenched his teeth and said nothing as a
group of sweating warriors neared the patio, talking loudly between themselves.
They lowered their voices, heading up the path.

He had no difficulty picking his son out of that
crowd, so tall and wide shouldered, so
handsome
. He had never looked at
the youth from the side as a stranger would, and now was stunned by the
virility, the strength the young man radiated. He would take such a youth to be
his shield bearer with no hesitation.

His heartbeat accelerating, although he would not
have thought it possible, so strong had it had pounded since his Uncle’s last
revelation, Tecpatl stared at his son, taking in the sweat and dust covered
skin, the shining eyes. An ugly bandage covered the youth’s temple, and the
left side of his face was horribly swollen. His lips were also crusted with
dried blood, but his eyes were shining, so happy and unconcerned.

It changed in a heartbeat as the youth saw the
people standing on the patio. His happiness evaporated. He stopped in his
tracks and stared at Tecpatl, a gamut of emotion reflecting on the handsome
face – surprise, confusion, shame, fear.

He stared at Tecpatl, and for a moment it seemed as
if he was about to turn around and run. Then he resumed his walk up the path,
catching up with the rest of the group.

“Well, as you see, your son is working hard to live
up to the standards of the royal guards’ warriors. He might yet make you proud,
you know?” The derisive voice reached Tecpatl’s ears.

He studied the bandage on his son’s temple. “What
happened to your head?” he asked curtly, unable to touch the more important
subject just yet.

The youth shifted uneasily. “I… I landed badly while
jumping some… some wall,” he said gruffly, refusing to meet Tecpatl’s gaze.

The warriors, who out of respect halted at some
distance, chuckled.

Tecpatl clasped his lips. “What are you doing here?”

The youth studied the colorful mosaic of the patio’s
floor.

“As I told you before, he is serving our late
Revered Emperor’s First Son. He pledged his allegiance as the sun ran its
course yesterday evening.”

“Without my agreement he cannot do such a thing.”
Tecpatl was pleased to hear his voice, firm and stony, echoing between the
marble columns. It reflected neither his rage, nor his frustration. Nor the
deep overwhelming fear. Oh, he hadn’t felt so afraid for a very long time.

“It is done now. But if you think of it, is it not a
trend of this family, not to follow your family leader’s advice? He might have
inherited his tendency to disobey his seniors. Think about that.” The thickset
man eased his shoulders. “Your son is not a child anymore, Nephew. He has a
mind of his own and his decisions are not that bad, if you ask me. You should
follow his example.” The heavily lidded gaze dwelled on Tecpatl, pregnant with
meaning. “Civil war is a horrible thing, Nephew. I would not advise you to risk
it. Father fighting a son, uncle fighting a nephew. A horrible conflict that
should be avoided at any cost.”

“So is this your game? To make me obey through the
use of children?” Surprised by his own laughter, Tecpatl took a deep breath.
His heart beat so fast he thought it might jump out of his chest, crimson and
pumping, rolling over the mosaic floor as the heart of a sacrificial victim
would. Oh, they’d captured him all right.

He turned back to Atolli, who was still immersed in
his study of the mosaic floor. “So, what did they promise you? To make you a
warlord instead of me?”

The boy’s gaze jumped upwards, wild and frightened.
“But Father…”

He watched his son’s face losing its liveliness,
paling visibly in the thickening twilight. His heart went out to him – so
young, so stupid.

“I hope you enjoy your new life,” he said, turning
on his heel. “Make the best of it.”

“But Father, please!”

Tecpatl did not turn his head. Passing by the
waiting warriors, he made it down the path, his sandals crushing the gravel,
the emptiness in his stomach growing with every step.

Home, he thought randomly. It’s time he went home,
at last.

Chapter 13

When the sun kissed the tops of the distant trees
that lined the main avenue, Sakuna knew she had no choices left. She had
watched it for some time now, still hoping
he
would come.

The day had dragged slowly, oh so slowly, since she
had come back from her market trip with Nopalli. Her resolution firm, she went
through her usual chores, mainly by supervising her slaves’ activities. Not a
demanding task. They all knew what to do. They didn’t need her, taking pleasure
in letting her know this.

She had talked to Tecuani when the boy had briefly
come home. He wanted to make sure Atolli had returned and was once again thrown
off his usual breezy self, discovering his adored older brother was still
missing. He needed reassurance, and she did her best, tucking her own fears
into the depths of her soul. He also had told her he went to Mecatl, but Atolli’s
friend was at a loss for the information.

She hugged him tight and promised that all would be
well. As soon as his father returned. And now there were two of them, waiting
and pinning their hopes on the Master of the House, she reflected, grinning
without amusement.

Flower had also needed her attention. Not sensing
her family’s distress, or indifferent to it, she was fretting over her
impending time in the temples’ services. She wanted to be admitted to the
prestigious temple of the mighty Quetzalcoatl and thought her mother should do
more than just manage to hold herself from running out of the room each time a
priest was honoring their house with a visit.

Tomorrow some temple ceremonies were to be held, and
Flower wanted to attend. Sakuna sighed. To watch the pulsating blood,
worshipped and revered and splattering all over, was not her idea of the
perfect morning. She thought about the trouble looming. Would she survive to
see tomorrow? Hugging her daughter, she promised to arrange their litter to be
ready before dawn.

And now, she sat up on the roof, hugging her knees
and rocking back and forth. Not in desperation, but with a certain amount of
acceptance. Tecpatl had not come, so now it was up to her. If he was still
alive and unhurt, she would make sure he remained so.

She went down the stairs. “I need my litter ready,”
she told her maid, the squat middle-aged Mayan with a thick accent.

“Now? At sunset?” exclaimed the woman, appalled.

“Yes now. And please hurry!”

She rushed to her rooms, searching through the
chests. A brown nondescript gown would do, she thought, tying her hair
carelessly behind her back. She should not look appealing in any way. But then,
had she looked appealing yesterday, kneeling beside Nopalli’s child?

She shivered and clasped her teeth, feeling her
resolve weakening.
You can do it
, she promised herself.
It’s not that
dangerous
. She’d just have to talk to the old man, play nice, play the part
of a sweet helpless woman. He was aroused by the image of a powerful, wild
barbarian. Well, he’d get the helpless civilized little woman instead.

Something Nopalli had said that morning had
triggered the idea.
If we want our lives neatly arranged, we better keep to
our clothes, and jewelry, and our children. Politics are for men. They don’t like
us all strong and opinionated. They like us sweet and helpless, and then
they’ll do anything for us.

Well, Tecpatl wasn’t like that, but if to save him
she had to play this game of Azcapotzalco’s civilized nobles, she would do it.
She’d promise the intimidating adviser to talk to his nephew, to convince him,
and this way she might buy a little time.

For what? Well, this would be up to Tecpatl. She
just wanted him to come home unharmed, so they could think of how to go about
looking for Atolli.

The litter swayed, jerking occasionally as it
progressed up the darkening alleys. Damn slaves, she thought, leaning against
the wooden screen, nauseated. But she knew the bearers were not to blame.
Uncomfortable with carrying a woman of her status at such an unusual time of
the evening, they almost ran, anxious to deliver her back home safely, the
sooner the better.

Her destination had baffled them too, she knew. A
very unusual address for their mistress to pay a visit.

When they reached the main entrance, it was already
dark. She eyed the torches flickering in the strengthening wind, fastened into
wooden columns lined with marble. It gave enough illumination to see the armed
figures guarding the beginning of the wide, well-swept avenue.

“Find out if the Master of the House is home. Don’t
tell them who is enquiring.” She peeked from behind the curtain, not willing to
expose herself more than necessary. “If they insist, tell them it’s the Chief
Wife of the Honorable Warlord.”

The maid, a young girl whom she had acquired not
long ago, looked at her wide eyed.

“Don’t stare at me! Just go.”

The girl scurried off, her steps light on the
rustling gravel.

He won’t be home, she thought suddenly, aware of the
vastness of her relief. He’d be as busy around the Palace as her husband was.
If the Chief Warlord could not come home, neither could the Main Adviser. Her
heartbeat began to calm.

“He has just arrived, Mistress.” The voice of the
girl made her jump. “They said I can run into the house and deliver a message,
if you wish it so.”

Sakuna took a deep breath. “Go in and tell the
Master that his nephew’s wife wishes to see him. Come back only if he agrees or
refuses; don’t deliver me an invitation of anyone else in this household. Now
go.”

She watched the girl rushing up the path, then
lingered for a little longer, wishing to step outside, knowing she could not.
The air smelled of rain, damp, heavy with a nearing storm. She could feel it.
Or was it her imagination? Summer storms were rare in Azcapotzalco.

He would be too busy to admit her. The main adviser
had better things to do than to chat with insignificant wives of his numerous
nephews and cousins. He was the head of their clan. He would not bother to see
her.

She sat back, folding her arms in her lap. But what
if he did? What if he thought she came to do… what?

Her fingers twisted the beads of her embroidered
skirt, threatening to tear the pretty jewelry off. She forced them into
stillness. This waiting would be over soon. One way or another.

She could hear the purring of the distant thunder.
So she hadn't been wrong about the storm.

The curtain swayed with a fresh gust of wind. She
could feel the damp freshness seeping through the cracks in the wooden screens.
The summer’s storms were pleasant affairs. If it rained right away, she’d go up
to the roof as soon as she got home. It would refresh her and wash away all her
worries. Well, for the time being, at least.

The hurried steps of the maid tore her from her
reverie.

“He’ll see you now, Mistress,” said the girl, gasping.

She could feel the litter lifting, jerking with the
movement. She could not hear her heartbeat anymore. Previously it had thundered
in her ears, but now it stilled to a complete quietness. She wondered if it had
stopped for good.

***

The flames cracked cozily in the fireplace, lighting
the room, reflecting off the lined walls. Pinkish in coloring, the wooden
planks encircled the rectangular space, reflecting the firelight favorably,
increasing the cozy sensation.

Sakuna hesitated by the entrance’s poles, wishing to
lean against the polished wood. She assumed it was there to support the doorway
frame. Well, it could spare her some support too. The gaze of the Master of the
House made her want that support badly. She did not trust her legs to hold her for
much longer.

The thickset man stared at her, openly hostile, his
small eyes squinting into a pair of slits. The tightly clasped lips – another
slit.  Well, at least it contained no lust this time.

“Did my Nephew send you here?” The deep voice
demanded. “Can’t he muster enough courage to see me himself?”

She stared at the man, taken aback, her urge to run
overwhelming. The old man did not move, sitting on the high woven stool, back
straight, knees far apart, partly covered by the richly embroidered hem of a
cloak.

“Tecpatl did not send me here,” she mumbled.

“No?” The bushy eyebrows lifted as the squinted eyes
opened a little wider. Some amusement crept into the depths of the frown. “So
you came to visit me of your own accord?”

“Tecpatl has not come home yet. And… and I worry
about him. Is he all right?” It came out sounding most silly. She bit her lips.

“So you came here looking for your husband?” The man
reached for the podium laden with plates, picked a tortilla wrapped around
mashed avocado.  A delicious aroma rose from another bowl. She wished she could
see what was in there.

As her sharp, polished nails sank into the softness
of her palms, she felt the pain and it refreshed her a little. She took a deep
breath.

“Oh Revered Uncle, I came here to beg your
forgiveness. My behavior during our previous meeting has no excuse other than
the exhaustion and the deep worry for your daughter’s youngest son. I wish you
would accept my deepest apology. I was rude and uncouth. I behaved like a
barbarian. I beg you to accept my apology.”

It came out well enough. The tortilla stopped in
midair. The eyes opened wider, studying her with some interest.

“I see,” said the man, resuming his eating. “Is that
all?”

She licked her lips. “I also would love to assure
you that I would be happy to be of help should you require any assistance. I
would be delighted to do your bidding in talking to my husband, if any of my
silly opinions should impress him. I will do my best to convince him of
anything you should think of as a correct line of behavior.”

Now she had taken it too far. He looked as if he was
about to burst out laughing.

She held out her hand. “Oh Revered Uncle, I’m just a
simple woman. I apologize if I have offended you by coming here and saying all
those things. They are coming from the bottom of my heart, but my speech is of
an insignificant woman.”

Seemingly unimpressed, he kept eating. She could see
him tearing at the last of the tortilla with those large well-preserved teeth,
the teeth of a predator.

She thought of Tecpatl and Atolli.
Oh gods, I
hope I did not come too late
.

“I will be more than happy to talk to my husband. I
will do my best to make him see the truth. The truth you made me see the evening
before this one. I’m grateful to you for opening my eyes. I’m honored that you
chose me to be your messenger.”

Something crept into the small, but now wide-open
eyes. The gaze boring into her changed. It reflected something new. Some
amusement, some pity, some deeply hidden…
desperation
? It couldn’t be.

The corners of the thin mouth quivered, shifted
downward in a sort of an inverted hint of a smile. The man seemed suddenly
tired and old. She could see his wide shoulders sagging.

“Save your breath, little barbarian,” he said
tiredly, almost friendly and well meaning. “It’s too late for this. You talk
well. Your ability to express yourself is commendable for an
insignificant
woman
. Your oratory is worthy of the noble women of Azcapotzalco. And your
wit.” He shook his head and laughed, but humorlessly so. “What a woman. My
Nephew keeps surprising me today.  He kept many things about himself well
hidden. You are among those. His ability to control his warriors is another. As
are his inflexibility, his surprising stubbornness, his lack of respect for his
elders and betters. Oh, he surprised me, this one. Surprised me most
thoroughly.” The small eyes focused on her once again. “It’s too late for your
speeches, female orator. You cannot talk to him. He won’t see reason.”

She clutched the glossy column with both palms, knowing
her legs would give way any moment.

“Is he dead?” she whispered, unable to say it aloud.

The inverted smile widened. “Not yet.”

“Where is he?” It came out so hoarsely she had to
clear her throat. But it didn’t help; she could not control her voice anymore.
“Is he imprisoned?”

“Of course not.” The bushy eyebrows frowned. “You
disappoint me. After all your speeches I would think you could understand the
subtlety of the situation. How could we imprison the Chief Warlord who insists
on supporting the lawful ruler? Do you know he has the temerity to remind me –
me! the leader of his Clan – of my duties to the lawful Emperor? Oh, he has
guts, that one. I
am
sorry he will have to be put to death. He is a
great warrior and a surprisingly good leader. I wish he would see reason.”

“I’ll make him see reason! Please, don’t hurt him.
I’ll find a way, I promise. I will not disappoint you. You’ll see. But please,
please don’t kill him.”

She became aware she was shouting, when the heavyset
man was suddenly on his feet, kicking away his stool, which wavered and then
toppled to its side. With the agility of a pouncing cat he leapt toward her,
crossing the whole room in what seemed to be one single movement.

A rough palm grabbed her shoulder. The square body
crashed into hers, slamming her back against the polished column. The other
palm pressed her mouth shut, the wide fingers digging into her flesh, hurting.

“Shut up, you stupid woman!” he hissed into her
face, filling her nose with the smell of hot beans, almost spitting the
remnants of tortilla into her eyes. “You will bring the entire household here.
Scream once again and I’ll kill you right here on the spot, just crush you
against this very column. Hear me?”

She struggled to break free from the strangling
palm, unable to get enough air. When he shifted his fingers, she took a sobbing
breath, then tried to ease away by pressing deeper into the column.