Читать книгу Ahuitzotl - Herb Allenger - Страница 29

XX

A few days later, Cihuacoatl paced the floor of his ministry anticipating the arrival of one of his more obscure friends, the physician Alotl. These were anxious times for him and his nervousness was evidenced in the long hard strides he took as he walked back and forth within the narrow confines of his chamber. With the hour of his contemplated action approaching, he wavered and had to constantly assure himself of its essentiality to bolster his flagging resolve. The burden strained him severely, exacting its toll in weight lost and stress endured; he endlessly deliberated over it, but always he came to the same conclusion—it had to be done.

At last he heard footsteps echoing in the corridor. He walked to the door and glanced out just as Alotl came up to him.

“You are alone?” Cihuacoatl asked.

“Do you see anyone else?” replied Alotl sardonically.

“Then enter. I have been much inconvenienced by this delay. I expected you earlier.”

“An unfortunate aspect of our lives—one must always wait on physicians.”

“Well, let’s not meditate on it. Have you what I requested?”

“Oh yes, and in ample amounts too.”

“Splendid.” Cihuacoatl declared as Alotl handed him a deerskin pouch. “Can you describe its effects to me?”

“It begins with a headache, followed by sensations of dryness in the mouth and excessive thirst. There is a burning and swelling in the throat, the pupils dilate, and the victim suffers delirium. Finally, after nausea and convulsion, he will go into a coma, and then—death!”

“That is how it acts?” Cihuacoatl blanched in alarm.

“It will not be pleasant.”

“I thought you would bring me something that was painless—not this.”

“You told me to get the poison that was most effective, and that’s not the most painless one. I see you are distraught—shall I take it back and get another?”

Cihuacoatl hesitated; the prospect of deferring his plan to a later time was not desireable. “No, this will have to do,” he replied at length. “I can’t have any more delays. My nerves would never withstand it.”

“It is guaranteed to bring the desired result. Who did you say it was for? Some relative in pain of a lingering incurable sickness?”

“Yes. That’s why I had hoped it would be a painless drug, but even so, he has suffered so much already; this could not make his pain any worse.”

“I don’t approve of using this for such purposes, but that’s only my opinion. I shall not stand in your way if you are set on its application. No doubt you have agonized over this before resorting to these desperate methods.”

“Indeed I have, Alotl. The decision has caused me horrible despair.”

“Such resolutions are never easy. You have my sympathy.”

“Thank you for your condolences, but back to the drug. Which is better for it, food or drink?

“Both are well suited for it, but perhaps it would be a somewhat quicker reaction if he drank it. Also, if given to him in a cup, you have greater assurances that only he would drink it. The chances of someone else accidently consuming it are minimized.”

“I was just thinking the same thing. Now, how much of this should I give him?”

“That depends. If he is old and feeble, it will not be necessary to use more than a fourth of the bag’s contents. If you wish to put him out of his misery quickly, then pour all of it into a cup. It disssolves readily and had no peculiar odor to it—he will never be able to distinguish it from whatever else he drinks.”

“How precise you physicians are. If I use all of this, there will be no chance of escaping the drug’s lethal effect?”

“None.”

“Remarkable. This is what I needed to know—not the medical analysis. I shall put this to use at the earliest opportunity.”

“Such haste,” Alotl wryly commented. “The situation must be unbearable—for you. You are certain you do not want me to get something less potent?”

“No, this will do nicely.”

“Nicely? I should hate to be your relative. Then you are satisfied?”

“You’ve done well, Alotl. Perhaps some day I can do you a favor in return.”

“I’m not so certain I would ask you for one. However, if you need anything else, I’m always at your service.”

With his business thereupon concluded, Alotl departed, leaving Cihuacoatl alone in the chamber as he had found him. A cynical man, the physician had long ago determined there was nothing more in life that could surprise him, but when he left the minister, he must considered his conclusion sorely tested.

Now that Cihuacoatl had the poison, a more complicated task lay ahead of him as he thought about over how he would administer it and discovered few alternatives existed for him. If he placed the drug in food, many could become affected by it, and there was a need for him to be in the kitchen or Tizoc’s dining quarters—to accomplish this unseen required a magician. A more promising possibility was to corner the monarch alone somewhere and, with the aid of accomplices, force him to consume the potion. The perfect situation was if the minister were alone with Tizoc without anyone knowing of it; there had been such occasions, but they were rare. One thing he was clear on: if the deed was to be done, he needed to create the conditions for its consummation.

Fortunately Cihuacoatl had already managed to secure abettors in the scheme—Tizoc’s lack of popularity extended through many circles making that recruitment easier than he had imagined. He decided it might be beneficial to seek them out for ideas on how to continue from here. He walked from his ministry feeling confident the problem would unravel itself; no sooner had he cleared the door when he was intercepted by a messenger. “Our Revered Speaker requests your presence, Lord Minister,” the courier reported. “He desires a private meeting—in his royal garden.”

“When?”

“At noon.”

The gods themselves have arranged this, Cihuacoatl thought in amazement. They beckoned him to proceed.

He still had enough time to meet with his accomplices to finalize their strategy and, after dismissing the courier, hastened off for the trading center to make contact with Lord Huactli who ruled over the pochteca, the merchants. It was perhaps to be expected that he would be involved in plotting against Tizoc, for no other sector of the society was more adversely affected by the monarch’s timidity than the pochteca. Their trading routes, once sacrosanct, became increasingly hazardous to traverse as a result of banditry which they blamed on Tizoc’s failure in policy enforcement and his acquired reputation for weakness. Only the military may have held the monarch in lower esteem, but there the command and authority of Ahuitzotl acted as a steadying influence against drastic action, preventing any escalation of opposition.

Cihuacoatl was met at the center by Huactli’s personal guardians who informed their master of the minister’s visit and, after receiving the lord’s consent, bade him to enter and left him alone in a chamber with Huactli.

“You breathe heavily,” Huactli observed, “and come in great haste. Does this portent what we have so long desired?”

“I think this is the day,” Cihuacoatl affirmed.

Huactli sat motionless, needing time to fully appreciate the news. “What would you have us do?” he finally asked.

“I am to meet Tizoc at noon in his garden. I have the poison with me, and believe we will be by ourselves. If he has a drink available, I should be able to slip it in his cup. If not, I want you and your co-conspirators to appear with a goblet filled with water. We can then force him to drink it.”

“But if he is to meet only you, how will we explain our presence to him?”

“Do not make your appearance until I give you a sign—I’ll rub my arm across my brow as if wiping off perspiration. You have access to the garden. Hide yourselves in the shrubs and await my signal. Once I call for you, it will be too late for him and it no longer matters what he thinks.”

“What if he is not alone?”

“Then we’ll have to postpone our plan until another occasion presents itself.”

“How will we know the poison will be allowed to do its work? He could drink it, and then regurgitate it, annulling its effect, or maybe even take some kind of remedy to counteract it.”

“The poison begins to have an affect shortly after it is ingested. We’ll simply have to stay until the first symptoms appear—by then nothing will save him.”

“We could be seen if we stay.”

“Perhaps, but who would interrupt a Revered Speaker in conference? Even if we are spotted from the palace, I doubt if anyone will come close enough to identify you. Besides, we have the sworn word of Lord Ahuitzotl there will be no retribution against us.”

Huactli was not as enthralled over this as the minister. “I do not trust him. The priests say he does not show the gods proper reverence.”

“He will keep his word.”

“Then I must believe you. Still, it is better if we were not seen. Even as Revered Speaker, he could not keep the justices from us if we were positively identified.”

“I tell you this opportunity is god-sent. They must surely approve and will protect us. We shall not get a chance like this for a long time if we fail to act on it.”

Huactli was agreed that they could ill afford to lose such an auspicious moment. Further delay posed dangers as it might present Tizoc with favorable circumstances in which he could redeem himself and regain the people’s good graces, and each day lost meant more trade losses for his merchants on the road. “Very well,” he determined, “I shall gather my partners and proceed to the garden with them. It will not take long.”

Cihuacoatl left the trading center shrugging off the last doubts that resurfaced to plague him. The time was beyond possessing any reservations about this scheme, he said to himself. The machinery had been set into motion and was now rolling ahead under its own inertia. Still, there was considerable tension in the minister as the moment drew near; he felt his heart pulsating in his jugulars when he entered the garden through its main portal. He saw Tizoc at its farthest extremity apparently engrossed with some of his flowery plants. The monarch stood by himself, and as Cihuacoatl approached him, he looked about and noticed that no-one else was in the vicinity—another indication for him that providence guided him to this climactic conclusion.

“You sent for me, Lord?” said Cihuacoatl on arriving.

“Ah yes,” Tizoc acknowledged, still absorbed in his flowers. “Look at this delicate plant here. Have you ever seen a more magnificent bloom?”

It was typical of him to seek an agreement from his visitors on things he admired, and for the minister, who cared little about plants, it amounted to a meaningless diversion. Had he exhibited as much interest in maintaining the realm as he did in his garden, Cihuacoatl conjectured, there would have been no necessity for this conspiracy.

“Indeed not, Lord,” Cihuacoatl said in a strained attempt at showing some fascination. “It has a brilliant luster.”

“Also a remarkably soft texture. I should send Nezahualpilli one of these lovelies.”

Cihuacoatl was too tense to share in the adoration, and Tizoc sensed his impatience. “I had forgotten,” he said, “you don’t have any enthusiasm for gardening—a pity; there are enormous pleasures to be derived from it. I summoned you so that we might discuss the Xiquipilco situation. It’s worsening and I think some sort of remedial action is in order. What’s your assessment?”

Cihuacoatl was by this time in such a state of strained agitation over his next anticipated move that he could not focus on anything said to him. He felt a weakness in his knees.

“What’s wrong?” Tizoc voiced his concern when he noticed the minister’s discomfort. “You are quite pale, and you sweat profusely. Are you ill?”

“I feel a dizziness. Do you have something to drink?”

“No, but let me call my servants.”

“No!” Cihuacoatl sharply reacted. “Perhaps if I rest for a moment, it will go away.”

“It’s no problem. I shall call them.”

“It’s not necessary!” the minister exclaimed, then wiped the perspiration from his brow.

He gave the signal. Huactli and three other associates, who had arrived only a short time ago, were concealed behind a thicket of bushes a few paces away when they saw it. They broke from their foilaged cover and, carrying a goblet and pitcher of water with them, proceeded for Tizoc and the minister. Tizoc saw them coming.

“Why are they here? I called no meeting.”

“They come at my request, Lord!”

Apprehension came over Tizoc who had never known his minister to take on this kind of prerogative without his consent. “What does this mean?” he said in his consternation.

“Your end!” Cihuacoatl grimly informed the startled monarch.

“What!”

“Do not yell out! Listen to all I tell you and obey my instructions. If you do not, Tlalalca, your sons, and your daughters will perish this day. Do you understand?”

Dazed, Tizoc stared unbelievingly at his minister whose words struck him with devastating impact. When at last he regained some composure, he was surrounded by the other conspirators.

“You must be mad!” Tizoc gasped.

“Mad you say? Oh no, Lord. Not at what I’m doing now, but perhaps I was mad when I appointed you to succeed your worthy brother Axayacatl. You have disgraced your office, and I have stood by to observe it happen, doing nothing, and all the while seeing our realm deteriorating under your spineless rule. Indeed I was mad, Lord—mad at not having sought this solution earlier!”

“I did not ask to be the Revered Speaker!” Tizoc angrily retaliated. He now grasped the severity of his situation and fully understood that the steps taken by the minister and his accomplices were irreversible. He was fighting for his life. “You apppointed me,” he raged on, “with no regard whether I wanted the title or not. Now you want me to bear the brunt of your erroneous judgment. The blame rests with you!”

“So does this remedy we now seek. We must put an end to you if we are to reverse the realm’s decay—the rot from within.”

Tizoc’s nervousness increased, and his knees were shaking so badly that his tilmantli could be seen quivering. His heart pounded at a frightening pace. “I knew I wasn’t meant to be Revered Speaker soon after having assumed those duties,” he whimpered now. “But how could I abdicate? The priests would never permit it—nor would you!”

“You could have refused the appointment. Surely you must have had some indications even then about your abilities to run a state.”

“How was I to know? I did not comprehend the demands of this office.”

Cihuacoatl was not impartial to Tizoc’s impassioned defense and for an instant even wished that he could somehow overturn the events which carried him to this point. He had certainly been most responsible for Tizoc being named Revered Speaker and now he doomed the young man over this misjudgment—not an easy thing to dismiss.

“It’s most unfortunate, Lord,” Cihuacoatl sympathized. “Perhaps you can take comfort in that we undertake this at the peril of offending the gods and may suffer greatly for it. Such is the distress you have driven us to.”

Tizoc understood. Somehow he had suspected that this was the only possible way it could have ended, and his lamentation was more over the dismal circumstances, including his own woeful inadequecy, which directed him to this fate than out of any resentment for his minister. Fearfully, he watched the potion being stirred in the goblet held by Huactli, and after it had dissolved in the water, Cihuacoatl took the cup and handed it to his distraught master.

“Here, Lord. Drink this.”

“And if I refuse?” Tizoc asked in a broken voice. “You cannot be so cruel as to extend your crimes to my family.”

“Drink it!” Huactli demanded, becoming irritated over the delay. Cihaucoatl placed his hand on Huactli’s shoulder to indicate his annoyance over the interruption.

“Know our position, Lord,” the minister explained. “We are desperate men and have nothing to lose by whatever measures we take, for we are doomed if we fail here. It is to be your life alone or that of your entire family. Have courage, Lord, and take the reasonable option. You will enter Tlalocan, the South Heaven, a much better place than is in store for us who will most likely go to Mictlan for having committed this heresy. Take the cup and drink.”

With his hand trembling, Tizoc reached for the goblet but stopped before taking a hold of it.

“No! I will not drink it.”

Cihuacoatl glanced at Huactli and readity discerned what he was thinking. “He is a coward to the end,” Huactli sneered. “What sort of man would have his wife and children die with him?”

“He will drink,” Cihuacoatl assured him. “Give him a little more time to ponder on it.”

“I have waited long enough. Let us kill him now!” Huactli said as he pulled a knife from under his cloak.

“Wait!” Tizoc cried out. Huactli replaced his weapon.

The game was over for him. At last, no longer seeing any possibility of relief, Tizoc resigned himself to the inevitable. Tears of anguish came to him as he clasped the goblet with his shaking hands; he trembled uncontrollably and felt as if his heart would stop under his duress.

“Will it be painful?” he uttered weakly.

“For a short while,” Cihuacoatl answered. suddenly overcome with remorse.

“What will happen to Tlalalca?”

“She will be taken care of, as will your children, but only if you retain your silence about us after we leave you. I promise you this.”

Tizoc gazed straight into the minister’s eyes and, despite his intense nervousness, seemed to sense the sorrow which had struck Cihuacoatl. In his acuity, he apprehended how troubling this step must have been for him, and his dismay that the minister was part of this conspiracy left him. “I believe you,” Tizoc told him. Then, with no more hesitation, he brought to cup to his lips and drained it while the conspirators held their breaths.

Cihuacoatl was so deeply touched by Tizoc’s expression of faith in him, even though he had betrayed his lord, that he could scarcely hold back his tears, and as he watched his pitiful monarch empty the cup, he had to repress urges to intercede on his behalf by calling for help. When Tizoc had finished, and it was too late for any countermeasure, Cihuacoatl felt as if his heart would break.

Feeling faint over the knowledge of his imminent death, Tizoc had to sit down on one of the stone slabs he so abundantly emplaced through the garden while the conspirators remained about him awaiting an appearance of the first symptoms like vultures hovering over a dying animal. He knew why they stayed, and if he withheld any hopes of getting to a physician, they were shattered as effectively as the world which had collapsed on him this afternoon. Still he retained some concern over what was to come.

“Who will reign after me?” he asked Cihuacoatl in a somewhat calmer voice than earlier.

Cihuacoatl delayed in his response as he was reluctant to inform Tizoc, wishing to spare him any additional duress.

“Is it Ahuitzotl?” Tizoc insisted on knowing.

“We will recommend him,” replied the minister. Contrary to what he had expected, there was no sign of objection in Tizoc.

“Is he also part of—of this?”

“Indirectly, Lord. He promised he would seek no retaliation against us.”

“But he did not contrive this… death.”

“No, Lord.”

“That’s good,” Tizoc winced as the headaches began. “He will make a better ruler than I have been. He is… much…. stronger.”

His speech became sluggish as a dryness enveloped his mouth. Headaches now pounded his brain violently in heavy, painful throbs; he felt his throat burning and he was nauseous. For Huactli this presented conclusive proof that the poison was acting on Tizoc. “He is dying,” he said. “Our work is done. Let us leave him.”

Cihuacoatl was immobilized in his compunction. When, after a moment, Huactli’s words took hold of him, he arose to depart but was held back by Tizoc who clutched at his cloak.

“Help me..to..my… quarters,” Tizoc begged of his minister.

“Yes, Lord,” Cihuacoatl answered, his practiced sense of obligation overriding all other considerations, and he motioned for Huactli and the others to go.

“You’re not coming?” Huactli resisted.

“No.”

“But you’ll be seen.”

“My meeting with him is already known. I shall say I found him becoming ill as we engaged in it. They will believe me—I have served him loyally. Now go!”

They left without hesitation, requiring no pursuasion to dally at the scene of this obvious misdeed, while the minister raised Tizoc’s arms over his shoulder and half-carried him into the palace where astonished servants ran to assist him. They carried Tizoc into his private chamber and lifted him upon layers of mats, covering his shaking body a blanket.

“I’ll fetch a physician,” an attendant said to Cihuacoatl.

“No!” Tizoc muttered, “Please… let… me… see… Tla….”

“He asks for Tlalalca,” Cihuacoatl told the attendant, “Bring her here—quickly!”

At near panic, the servant raced frantically through the corridor for the other end of the palace and barged into an interior courtyard where Tlalalca was employed in her afternoon chats with her ladies; he startled everyone.

“My Lady,” he panted, “Lord Tizoc. He is gravely ill.”

Abject fear gripped Tlalalca and, leaving her group in stunned confusion, she immediately followed the valet back to Tizoc’s chamber where she saw him lying in bed quivering under his cover.

“Tizoc!” she cried out in horrified shock, tears coming to her eyes, “Oh, my Lord!” She rushed up to him, embracing his trembling body while weeping uncontrollably in her despair.

Tizoc gazed at her and strained to say something but was now no longer able to speak; he wanted to wipe the stream of tears from her cheeks but was too weak to lift his arm. So in his last moment he beheld Tlalalca’s lovely face contorted in its anguish; his eyes shone for one more brief instant, and then they closed as he lapsed into a coma.

The bereaved empress could not be consoled. Sobbing hysterically, repeating his name over and over, she clung tenaciously to him, refusing all attempts by Xoyo, who had followed her to the chamber, and the others to wrest her from him, and while she so held fast to him, his breathing stopped. And thus, in the arms of his adored Tlalalca, did Tizoc end his life.

Cihuacoatl staggered from the palace a broken man. Torn between his years of dedicated servitude to Tizoc and the desperation that drove him into being the instrument of his murder, he must have questioned the forces which led him to this. Devastated by feelings of intense guilt over having been responsible for selecting that young man to the kingship and then inflicting on him the ultimate penalty when the office proved too much for him, he knew he could never escape his own complicity in this and would forever carry this burden with him. Fainthearted while he lived, Tizoc exited from the world with wholesome dignity, casting a shadow of doubt over the necessity for his end and adding greatly to the minister’s commiseration. As he came to the front steps, his legs weakened and he paused to rest. He sat down and, for the first time in his recollection, openly wept.