Young Jaguar, The (2 page)

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” The girl’s
voice rose.

“Nothing,” he said, sensing her welling panic.
“Nothing at all. We were just leaving. It was an accident.” He leaned over to
help Mecatl onto his feet. “There is no need to be afraid. We were just
leaving.”

“How?” As she shifted her grasp on the small torch,
the outline of her high, perfectly Toltec cheekbones became more visible. Her
eyes were large and widely spaced.

“I don’t know yet. We’ll find a way. Please don’t
tell anyone.”

“But I have to!” Her voice took a more formal tone.
“To break into the temple’s grounds is a serious crime.”

“We did not break into the temple’s grounds. It
happened by accident, and we were just about to leave. You can pretend you
never saw us.”

She studied them more carefully, taking in their
calmecac
gowns. “Another crime is to leave your school without permission.” 

“We know the law. We don’t need you to tell us!” He
stared at her, irritated by her arrogance. 

“Would you please help us?” interrupted Mecatl before
the girl had a chance to grow yet angrier. “We won’t leave our school without
permission anymore. We really need your help.”

Her gaze softened. “I won’t tell, but only if you
and your insolent friend would promise not to do it again.”

Mecatl’s elbow stuck into Atolli’s ribs. “We won’t.
We promise.”

The girl peered at them haughtily, then turned
around. “Follow me.”

“Where to?” burst Atolli, irritated by the necessity
to be led by her.

“To the gate, of course! Where would you want me to
take you?” The small flame of her torch flickered angrily.

Another elbowing in his ribs. “We appreciate that.
Thank you!” Mecatl’s smile was all innocence.

Struggling under his friend’s weight, Atolli
followed the elegant gait of her priestly gown.

“Had you got into a fight with
cuicacalli
school boys?” asked the girl as they crossed the small temple’s plaza and
neared the opposite wall.

“Yes,” answered Mecatl without hesitation. “We really
should not have left the school.”

“I wonder if any of my brothers sneak out as you
do.”

“Your brothers learn in our
calmecac
?”

“The two younger ones, yes.”

“What are their names?”

“They are not trained with you, surely.”

“Why-ever not?” It was Atolli’s turn to burst into
the conversation.

“You can’t be noble enough.”

“You might be surprised.”

“If you were of the royal family, I would recognize
you.”

The two youths exchanged glances. There was an
unmistakable twinkle in Mecatl’s eyes, but Atolli was not amused. There was
something about this girl, something extremely irritating.

“What would the royal princess do running around the
Goddess’s temple at night?” he said, unable to hold his tongue.

Mecatl elbowed him once again. They better not anger
her; she had yet to guide them out, safe and undetected. 

“I’m doing my time under the priestly guidance,”
answered the girl proudly. “I’m sure you are aware of the custom that requires
the noble girls to be trained at the temples. Or have you gotten into
calmecac
by the merits of your abilities only, like some gifted commoners?”

Now even Mecatl was outraged. “We are of noble
families!” he called out, while Atolli gasped, speechless at her effrontery.
“His father is Tecpatl, the Honorable Chief Warlord himself. And my father is
the leader of the warriors, too.”

“I see,” said the girl calmly, but something in her
voice changed, and her gaze lingered as if trying to decipher Atolli’s features
in the darkness.

She walked on briskly, indifferent to their efforts
to keep up. In the shadow of the wall she halted.

“There is the gate, over there. It’s always open.
Only the wall facing the marketplace is guarded.”

The question burst out of Atolli’s mouth as if of
its own accord, surprising both youths. “What is your name?”

She straightened her gaze and did not look
surprised. “My name is Cuetlaxochitzin, but I’m known as Chictli.”

Chictli, he thought, rolling this name around his
tongue.

Then the lights of the torches were upon them; and
the smell of rot and unwashed bodies. The priests!  

“What is going on here?”

He heard Mecatl cursing softly under his breath. But
for his friend’s ankle, he would have dashed for the dark mass of the wall,
scaling it with the agility of a jaguar that he was famous for in school.

Chapter 2

Sakuna stood on the flat roof, waiting for the sun
to appear. The thick darkness enveloped her like a soft cloak, sheltering,
reassuring. She listened to the water trickling soothingly in the artificial
ponds of their spacious gardens down below.

She had not greeted the sun like this for a long
time. As the moons passed and the seasons changed she moved further and further
away from her past, her childhood, the time of her youth. She forgot the ways
of her people. For the sake of her new life, she’d sacrificed the memory of
their customs. But had this new life been so satisfying?

She shivered and pulled a cotton blanket closer
around her. It was beautifully embroidered, warm and soft, decorated with
exquisite feathers of tropical birds. She loved its touch, the way its color
set off her dark eyes and her long silky hair. She always kept her hair long,
as long as it would grow. And she bathed with special oil that made it shine.
Tecpatl loved her hair. He would always run his fingers through it to part the
separate tendrils, marveling at their softness.

So, today she would wash it with a special care. He
was coming home, at long last. Away for more than a moon. Always away, always
on his endless campaigns. But since the war with Culhuacan had broken, his
expeditions had become shorter. Culhuacan was just down the shore of the Great
Lake, a journey of a few days by land and a short sail. Unlike the distant
lands of the Mayans. Oh, she was grateful for the problems Culhuacan had
created. It made him busier, but nearer; his absences shorter and easier to
cope with.

Her heart accelerated at the thought of his return.
He would spend the day in the Palace, of course, reporting, discussing and
planning more of his wretched raids. But toward the evening he’d descend the
paved road, reaching the best neighborhoods inhabited by Azcapotzalco’s highest
nobility, reaching his home. And she would be waiting, wearing the best of her
blouses and skirts.

The turquoise one, she thought. The one that would
wrap around her slender waist and show off her ankles.

What anklets? she asked herself. The topaz ones, of
course. And the bracelets to match. She felt the warm wave spreading through
her stomach, making it flutter. Oh, she would wait for him!

But now, she was waiting for the sun to appear. She
didn’t stay awake through the whole night as she used to do when still a young
girl. That foolishness belonged to the past. She had a complex household to run
now. In Azcapotzalco the noblewomen did not sleep through the day. Their duties
were various and many. They had a small army of slaves to direct, to make sure
their spacious houses and gardens would remain properly tended, beautiful to
look at.

Beauty was of paramount importance, but she did not
object to that. She liked it that way. Still, the slaves were somewhat
difficult to manage. If only they respected her more.

She frowned and narrowed her eyes against the
brightening sky. Today was the day when the sun would remain in the sky for the
longest period of time. The day when the Sun Stands Still. How many of those
had she missed since arriving here?

She knew exactly how many. Fifteen. Fifteen summers
had passed. Atolli, her firstborn, was fifteen summers old. She had already
been with child when she first arrived in Azcapotzalco. She had conceived on
her way here.

Her smiled blossomed as the memories swept her.
Their journey to her new home! Walking the desert toward the rising sun at
first, then leaving the familiar lands and turning to the south.

Side by side, always near, always touching, smiling
foolishly most of the time, walking toward their new life. The traders had trod
alongside, carrying their heavy bundles, undermanned and sweating. They may
very well have not existed. The young lovers had hardly noticed their presence.

Only at nights, to keep some decency, they would
spread their blankets at some distance and love each other, exchanging their
warmth. When he had to keep watch in case of an enemy approach, she would
accompany him, and they would talk and love and talk some more.

She wanted to know everything about her new life,
and she would listen intently and never argue. She was determined to be happy
in Azcapotzalco, among the pyramids and marketplaces. She would be the best
wife, she decided. He would never regret the decision of bringing her along.

Ah, but it hadn’t been an easy decision. She
frowned, remembering the way they had met. He was so insolent, so arrogant, so
violent at times. Never with her, but she knew he’d despised them all, her
included.

Then there was the short journey with the traders.
He’d insisted she should accompany him, to translate, allegedly. How furious
her father had been! But he did allow her to go. He needed Tecpatl.

Oh, her father was a complex man, and not always as
good as she had previously believed. He was prepared to sacrifice her, his
daughter, to achieve his ends. But she didn’t know that back then. She had been
as frightened as she had been excited. Oh, this outlandish warrior was a
challenge. Overlooked by her father all her life, she’d wanted to best the
warrior, to help her father, to prove herself worthy of respect.

When she had decided to sleep with Tecpatl, it was
an impulse. She had wanted to know what it would be like. She’d been attracted
to him after all, and he would leave shortly thereafter, and she would forget
all about him.

But in the lovemaking, he was gentle and
considerate. It was a pleasure she hadn’t known before. And then, the next
night they had been attacked, and he’d fought bravely and saved them all. But
she’d shown herself as brave; she hadn’t panicked like the rest of their party,
and she’d kept her presence of mind and helped him.

From that moment, she knew, he had fallen in love
with her. Not the night before, making love to her, but the day they had fought
together. Wounded in the ancient canyon, with the rest of their people killed,
he had trusted her and her judgment, and she had been elated. She had mattered
to someone. Someone as important, as prominent as him, had appreciated her.

But still they had argued. The ways of their lives
were too different. She knew it was a gulf that could not be bridged. Excited
and flattered, she knew she could not, should not, leave with him.

And then, her city was attacked, and she was
imprisoned by her father and thought Tecpatl had been killed. Oh, that was a
hideous day! She shivered, remembering the dark suffocating cellar, the cries
of the people dying outside, her bottomless desperation. When he had found her,
wounded but alive, having saved the city, she knew she could not let him go.

The decision to leave with him was as spontaneous as
the decision to make love to him. It had no logic or reason, but she knew she
could not do otherwise. And so, she had arrived at Azcapotzalco. A new, very
excited, very expectant bride. A savage from the Far North. It hadn’t taken her
long to understand that. Even their slaves thought themselves better than her.
Afraid of their master, they would never show an outright insolence, but she
knew they despised her. There were many ways of letting her know.

His family raised a brow and proceeded to treat her
cordially. So did the rest of Azcapotzalco’s nobility. The nobles were not as
snobbish as the lower classes. Many warriors would bring back all kinds of
women.

Yet, as the seasons had passed and he had steadily
refused to take an additional chief wife of better origins, his family’s
attitude changed. Now he was criticized openly. A man could marry a barbarian,
could have children by her, but he had to amend the matter by taking another
wife of a good Tepanec bloodline. Better still, of Toltec origins. A man should
not waste his seed on a woman of doubtful breeding. Yet Tecpatl did just that.
Lived happily with his imported barbarian and made children only by her. Outrageous!
Oh, how angry they were, with him and with her.

The sky was turning grey, and she could decipher the
shapes of the pyramids. The wide avenue, leading to the Palace and the plazas
around it, materialized out of the darkness, slowly, hesitantly. Yet the sun
was nowhere to be seen. The Great Pyramid had blocked the sky line, and only
the pinkish glow around its upper levels announced the dawn break.

Once she thought Great Houses, the imposing city of
her people, was huge. Oh, how little she had known. Azcapotzalco made it look
like a small village. But upon her father’s rooftop she could greet the sun
properly, watch the generous deity ascending its usual path, while the Tepanec
sun was distant and aloof, as arrogant as the citizens of the Great Capital.
There was no point in waiting for it to appear. It didn’t want to be greeted.

She could hear her household stirring. The slaves
were waking up to their usual duties, moving about, lighting braziers to banish
the morning chill. The women would then sit to spin and weave, and the men
would go about their heavier tasks. Then, toward midmorning, they’d prepare a
breakfast for the mistress and her children, and have a quick snack themselves.

However, today it would be different. Today she’d
send many of them to the markets. Today Tecpatl was coming home, and she’d make
sure his homecoming feast would reflect her elation. She’d make sure there
would be no shortage in tortillas and tamales stuffed with rabbit or dog meat
he’d loved so much. And, of course, plenty of
octli
and a chocolate
drink. She’d need to send them all out, in case they needed to search through
all the markets of the city, she thought as she hurried down the stairs.

The women at the spinning room stared as she burst
in, obviously finding it strange that the mistress of the house was wandering
the roof instead of sleeping snugly as a civilized woman should. Further
evidence of her being a pure barbarian. She didn’t care. She was too happy to
pay them any attention.

“The markets first,” she announced briskly. “And
please, hurry. Make sure you are not coming back if something is lacking.
Particularly the
octli
and the chocolate!” She frowned. “Come on, hurry
up!”

The squat middle-aged woman with a thick accent of
the Mayans got to her feet, pointed in her slowness. “How many women would you
like to send out, Mistress? Surely not all the servants should be scattered
around the markets.”

“I want half of them out and the other half busy
cleaning. If they find everything we need quickly enough, the ones who will not
be busy cooking, can go back to spinning.” She stared the woman down, holding
her ground.
Why did they always question everything she said?

The Mayan raised her brows and talked to the rest of
the servants in one of their dialects. What she said made them laugh.

Sakuna narrowed her eyes. “Hurry up. I want all the
food I request here before midday,” she said with all the haughtiness she could
muster.

Turning around, she bumped into a boy, who had run
into the room, breathless and agitated. He was eight summers old, short in
stature and mischievous in disposition. His yet uncut hair fell onto his face,
obscuring his vision, his large almond-shaped eyes wide-open.

“Mother,” he called. “I want to go hunting. Coatl
said we can go with the boys from
calmecac
. He said I can join. I’ll be
old enough for the school this year anyway. I want to go. It’ll take only a day
or two.” He paused for breath. “I can hunt things, bring things home,” he
finished, eyes flashing.

She hugged his fragile shoulders. He was so thin and
lively, fragile yet strong, bubbling with life, always full of dreams and
ideas, such a free spirit, fitting yet not fitting with his surroundings. He
reminded her of herself at the same age.

Her older children were Tecpatl’s alone, Atolli, her
firstborn, and Flower, his younger sister. Serious and dedicated, they were
perfect Tepanecs, sober, proud, determined, domineering. But Tecuani, her
youngest, she understood the best.

She beamed at him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.
But we’ll ask your father. He is coming home today, did you know that?”

The boy’s face lit with joy. “Today! Today, today,
today!” he whooped, making the women in the spinning room raise their eyebrows
even higher. More savagery in the best of Azcapotzalco’s neighborhoods.

Gently, she propelled him out of the room. “Don’t go
anywhere today, all right? You can play by the pond or up on the roof.”

He slipped out of her grasp. “I’ll go out, but not
far. Only to Coatl’s house.”

She could smell a faint odor coming from downstairs.
“Only to Coatl’s house. No farther.” She sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”

“Oh, the priest is here.”

“What? Which one? For how long? Why haven’t I been
informed?”

“I don’t know, I just saw him. I think Flower is
talking to him right now. She is so eager to get her temple training. She loves
priests. I guess she’ll get used to the stench quick enough.” He wrinkled his
nose. “Silly girl!”

“Don’t talk like that,” admonished Sakuna, afraid
someone might overhear. “The priests are not washing their bodies in order to
honor the gods. Flesh matters are not important to them.”

“They eat and drink, so they use their flesh,”
observed Tecuani thoughtfully. “And they take women. I think Flower will marry a
priest. Imagine how she’ll kiss him, ugh!”

“Tecuani!”

He said nothing, but his eyes twinkled as he turned
and ran off. Even the sound of his steps bounced mischievously off the
plastered walls.

Sakuna shook her head. He was unruly, this last of
her children, so outspoken, so trusting, so cheerful, bursting with life, not
abiding to the unspoken rules of society.

She feared for him. How would he fare under the
strict discipline of
calmecac
? Or worse. Would he manage to undergo the
military training of the young warriors without earning punishments twice a
day?