Читать книгу Ahuitzotl - Herb Allenger - Страница 26

XVII

Tizoc, accompanied by his court sycophants, stood by watching an enormous ceremonial stone rumbling over log rollers toward its permanent emplacement in in the central square behind the tow of thirty-some workmen. A huge circular slab of volcanic rock, eight feet across and weighing several tons, meant to be centered about fifty paces in front of the steps to the Great Temple and replace a similar but smaller stone already there; its purpose was to provide a base platform for warriors engaged in gladiatorial combat. Sculptors walked alongside the monolith, for they still had some finishing touches to complete on the frieze chiseled into the block’s lateral surface. The carvings depicted a superbly engraved scene which saw the Revered Speaker Tizoc holding a number of captives by their hair, each symbolizing a conquered city identified by its respective glyph. To Tizoc it had special signification as it commemorated his triumphs and, like the Great Temple when completed, would stand as an enduring monument to his reign.

The stone represented one of two gigantic sculptures advanced by Tizoc. In addition to this combat piece, there existed an even more massive calendar, already finished, which would be housed in Huitzilopochtli’s shrine atop the Great Temple. Tizoc felt justly proud of these accomplishments, not only for their important functional roles in the many rituals, but also as works of art. The stones were exquisitely carved out by the finest artisans in the realm who were specially recruited for the task and, to any observer, they instilled a sense of awe by their overwhelming crushing energy and epitomized the most magnificent examples of Mexica creativity.

With extreme pride, Tizoc viewed his ceremonial stone being shifted into position when a messenger rushed up to him and told him that Ahuitzotl wished to see him. “Must my finest moments be spoiled by his presence,” Tizoc mumbled to himself, his disposition turning sour, but he duly informed the messenger to go and fetch his brother.

Within the briefest time, Ahuitzotl stood next to him, having deftly maneuvered through the aides surrounding the Revered Speaker. Tizoc initiated the conversation.

“What do you think of my masterpiece?” he asked as he extended his open hand toward the stone.

“It’s magnificent,” Ahuitzotl replied.

“A fitting piece to adorn our most glorious work of all, the Great Temple. Do you like the side carvings?”

“Beautifully executed. Perhaps the scene is an exaggeration,” Ahuitzotl tactlessly remarked, more as a joke in bad taste than out of any maliciousness.

“If you mean to humiliate me, brother,” an unamused Tizoc commented, “then know that this stone represents a well-conceived deprecation of you.”

Ahuitzotl turned red over his poorly received raillery, but also held a curiosity over Tizoc’s meaning. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“You say the stone depicts an exaggeration? Of course it does. You and I both know this, but will anyone a generation from now? They will look upon it and remember my reign as far more glorious than any other, and this perpetually burns you, doesn’t it? I shall disregard your last remark, satisfied with the knowledge that by this single stone, I’ll gain far greater renown than you ever will with all those excursions I send you on. Your victories will fade in time and eventually be forgotten altogether, but this stone will remain, as will my Great Temple—my endowments to the world.”

Ahuitzotl sizzled, and only with utmost self-restraint did he avoid doing even more damage to himself. “I spoke without thinking,” he apologized. “I hope, in your wisdom, you can see this and excuse my carelessness, Lord. I would be most appreciative.”

“Do not overindulge me with your flowery words, Ahuitzotl. It’s not in your character—I know you too well to be deceived by them. I’ve seen enough here and was about to leave anyway, so come, I shall give you an audience.”

They headed in the direction of the palace, having separated themselves from the monarch’s coterie, and once alone saw no reason to delay their discussion.

“Now, what is it that’s so important?” Tizoc began.

“Something very personal to me, it concerns one of your mistresses—one named Pelaxilla.”

“I was curious when you would ever get to her,” Tizoc dryly mentioned.

“You know about us?”

“Come now. You two haven’t been exactly discreet with your afternoon meetings—really.”

Ahuitzotl sensed an uneasiness over Tizoc’s apparent lack of sympathy. “Then you are aware how much I desire her,” he said. “As your mistress, she is pledged to you, and I have honored this with her, but I now humbly ask that you release her from these obligations and allow her, on her own volition, to choose the man she wishes to serve.”

“Why should I?”

It became obvious to Ahuitzotl that he was going to face complications in securing his request, but, having already declared his purpose, he persisted. “You have many mistresses,” he replied, “What can one less mean to you?”

“So do you. One more should be of no consequence.”

“Pelaxilla is special to me—else I should not be here. Indeed, I would willingly give up all the others just for her.”

“I’m touched,” Tizoc responded without projecting a hint of compassion. “If I give her to you, what will you do with her?”

“Why, marry her, of course.”

“I thought so, and am compelled to inform you that you cannot. It’s not possible.”

His words impacted as a thunderbolt on Ahuitzotl, startling him, and he reacted with shock. “What are you saying?” he asked.

“You have forgotten what our laws decree. Unhappily for you, Pelaxilla is not of royal lineage. She is not of the Toltec or Tepanec family, which any priest will tell you is a prerequisite for unions involving our ruling elites. I correct myself—not any priest, since you, as Huitzilopochtli’s high priest, evidently did not. I must remind you that this has been a mandatory condition since the reign of Itzcoatl in order to keep the royalty in domination over our other nobles. Even if she was of nobility in her own city, she does not qualify for the House of Tenochtitlan.”

How could he have ignored this? It had never occurred to him that an inquiry into Pelaxilla’s background was in order; by her mere presence in the palace, he had assumed that she had the qualified ancestry. Tizoc was correct; the nobility, to be eligible for the kingship, had to belong by bloodlines to the Toltec or Tepanec families to which was claimed a divinity that descended from the gods themselves. A marriage to Pelaxilla constituted an impurity of this legacy, a defilement, and was unacceptable, particularly to the priests whose abstractions entailed an obsession for the proper lineage among Revered Speakers and their heirs.

“Can this be true?” gasped Ahuitzotl in disbelief.

“It is. Deny it all you want, but no priest will perform the sacred rites for you.”

“The priests! Always it is the priests! They must approve of this, they must condone that, but always they must have their say. Is there not one aspect of my life that is not controlled by these infernal priests?”

“There isn’t, and it will do you no good to blaspheme against them. They are a sacrosanct lot and ever remind you of it. A Revered Speaker has little power over them, and certainly no measures by which to dispense with the laws they have decreed for us.”

The world had crashed down upon Ahuitzotl. Any hopes he sustained for himself and Pelaxilla were eclipsed by the cruel revelation Tizoc had presented. After he recovered sufficiently enough from his initial jolt, he probed for another solution to his predicament.

“If it’s proclaimed that I can’t marry her, so be it, but I should like to have her just the same. My love for her will not be wanting just because she cannot be my wife.”

“In exchange for what?” Tizoc now had his turn to unleash long held frustrations, “Your never-ending insults? Your open contempt for me at every opportunity presented to you? Why should I do anything at all for you?”

“I have served you loyally…”

“Loyally? Everything you’ve done for me had to be extracted out of you, and even this accompanied by your derogatory slurs and abusive and disrespectful gestures towards me. When have you ever said anything—anything!—that was not in direct opposition to me, or not contradictory to my wishes? You have the nerve to ask me for favors?”

“So this is how I’m to be treated for appealing to your magnanimity!” Ahuitzotl stormed back. “I have given you enough victories to allow you to expand this realm, and even to boast of them as your own on your stone. Had I suspected you would turn on me for so small a request—small for you because I know Pelaxilla means little to you—I would certainly not have taken the time to seek your audience. I expected more out of you.”

“I treat you no different than you have behaved towards me. Not very pleasant, is it? I have justifiably reacted adversely to it. In truth, at times I felt loathe to issue orders to you out of disdain over hearing your negative replies. Such is the trepidation you have caused me.”

“The interpretation is yours. I’ve never intentionally tried to degrade you; if you perceived me in this light, you should have brought it to my attention so I might have corrected myself.”

“What do you take me for? Maybe your actions are unintentional as you say, but they have a way of occurring in the presence of my ministers and lords—always in public—which makes them suspect and also more detrimental for my reprimanding you because you would resent such castigation in front of others. As Revered Speaker, I ought not be placed in such a situation to begin with. By disagreeing with me, you announce your lack of respect and dispute my authority.”

“You’re overly sensitive to this. It leads you to magnify my resistance to you. Usually I oppose you on matters of policy where you yourself have solicited a different point of view, so do not censure me for your misreading my purpose.”

Tizoc gave this argument some judicious consideration, but after weighing all the factors dismissed it as unlikely. “If I have indeed overreacted, there were ample reasons for it,” he concluded. “But let’s not dawdle over this. Back to Pelaxilla, what can you offer me for her?”

Ahuitzotl did not anticipate Tizoc’s new approach and had to study the possibilities it presented. What Tizoc wanted was what he most loathed to do—he was to humble himself indignantly before him in an act of repentance for his alleged transgressions. It was to be as Pelaxilla told him: he was to grovel underneath his feet in pleading for her hand.

“I can guarantee a mending of my ways,” Ahuitzotl asserted reluctantly. “Give you my full support in as compliant and respectful manner as possible.”

“That’s not offering me anything,” Tizoc retorted, taking satisfaction in having his brother at a disadvantage. “I can demand this by merely ordering that you honor me properly.”

“So, it is because you also desire Pelaxilla that you wish to keep her.”

“She is quite lovely, but no—she means nothing to me.”

“And yet,” Ahuitzotl now sensed the strain impacting on his composure, “knowing my regard for her, you would deny her to me. I can accept that you have cause to be offended with me, but must your displeasure be directed at her? What about her happiness?”

Tizoc brooded over this. It contravened his principles to have others suffer because of one’s personal vindictiveness and yet such was the fate he now imposed on Pelaxilla. “It’s regrettable,” he said. “You’ve done nothing to make this a harmonious reign for me, and I see no reason to please you. If this means depriving her of happiness, then such must be the case.”

“I implore you. Reconsider. For her sake, please soften your harsh stand. She has often told me how she needs me for her contentment.”

“Are you suggesting I cannot make her content?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Ahuitzotl’s voice rose in his mounting exasperation. “If she means so little to you, then allow her the joy every woman seeks from a man she loves, who also loves her.”

“Stop it, or I shall break out in tears and soil my new feather tunic. Now, if you have anything else to speak about, say it. Otherwise I bid that you leave. Tlalalca waits or me.”

In his duress, Ahuitzotl could feel his heartbeat hammering away as the failure of his attempts sank in. Reaching a point of desperation, he advanced one final plea.

“Will you give her to me?” he entreated.

“No!” Tizoc emphatically declared.

Ahuitzotl’s eyes vibrated; his face turned red and his body trembled. He glared intensely at a startled Tizoc, then hastened about furiously and without another word stormed from his presence. In long frenzied strides, he paced across the stone pavement, seeing and hearing nothing, and muttering curses between his heated, forceful breaths. Vessels protruded from his neck and brow under the pressure of his indignant fury. His hatred knew no bounds, surging forth from his inner depths, dispossessing him of all reason to encompass his every thought and motion. This was his worst setback; his indignation was beyond appeasement, his vehemence unconstraint. He could not believe it. Over and over he assailed himself with these words as he stomped across the plaza.

He was still blazing hot when he reached his headquarters, passed by his perplexed drillmaster, and shut himself up in his chamber. There he sat, both hands holding up his chin, huffing laboriously while stewing in his wrath. So this was it! Tizoc had decided! He told Pelaxilla this would be a mistake. What was he to tell her now? While he so raged, he was also gripped by a cold shiver as the stark realization came to him that Pelaxilla would never be his. In this tortuous state, he continued to froth for most of the remaining day until he was drained of energy, and when at last he calmed himself enough to consider his next move, the course he would take was fixed in his mind.

“Drillmaster!” he shouted into the adjacent room.

Responding immediately, the obedient soldier rushed in to see what his commander wanted.

“Do you know where Cihuacoatl, the chief minister, resides?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Send a messenger to him,” Ahuitzotl directed. “I wish to see him.”