“Why are you so intractable?” she languished. “I thought you loved me.”
“You know I do.”
“Then ease my fears that you will let the matter rest if he refuses to give me to you.”
“What do you suggest I do? Steal you from him?”
“That’s not a bad idea, but I have a far bolder scheme in mind. You were once surprised when I told you I preferred men who had great aspirations. I’ve always believed you to be such a man—indeed, that may even be why I’m so attracted to you.”
“Get to the point, Pelaxilla.”
She decided to risk it all on a most daring proposition, one she had never previously considered and deemed quite horrible yet felt it necessary to put forth in order to force his hand.
“Why should you beg for me and crawl like a dog before Tizoc? You are a better man than he is. If a Revered Speaker cannot be replaced while he lives, then, if you are ever to rule, well, uh, you know what I mean.”
Ahuitzotl was stunned. He could not believe this was Pelaxilla speaking, the darling of the court whom everybody adored, who charmed them all and who possessed not a single disparaging bone in her body. There was a time when he was assured that he was the only person alive to think such thoughts, and now it seemed as though everyone was inferring this. But from sweet Pelaxilla?
“You’re serious,” Ahuitzotl concluded in his astonishment. “How can you hate him so?”
Pelaxilla fretted if she had not overextended herself. The court rumors must have been wrong in their allusion that Ahuitzotl aspired for the throne. But then, why did Tlalalca fear this so much. There had to be something to it—why else would she have been implored by the empress to ascertain what he planned?
“I have you to thank for that. Had we never met, and had I not fallen so in love with you, I should have been happy enough to expend my days in service to him. Because you engendered this desperate anticipation in me—for our being together—you also instilled a loathing for that which prevents this. Yes, you created this abhorrence I bear for Lord Tizoc. And all this since our last meeting in this garden!”
“I did this to you?”
“By promising we would be united after this war. I was so thrilled! What hopes you gave me! And now you tell me it may not be? Oh, you have most severely hurt me! But it is Tizoc who holds our future in horrid abeyance and who stands in our way. Why should it be a surprise I now possess such evil wishes upon him?”
Distressed, Ahuitzotl groped for words which momentarily eluded him. It seemed that every aspect of his life somehow entailed a connection to Tizoc, and he grabbled if he would ever be independent of the monarch’s ever-present predominance over him, viewing this as increasingly oppressive, and irritated that he could not function within its confines. All the pressures directed him towards one incontrovertible conclusion—against Tizoc.
“I didn’t realize you would become so obsessed by what I told you,” he finally answered. “Certainly that was not my intent.”
“Not your intent?” Pelaxilla nearly wept in her despair. “I am a mortal woman—I have frailties.”
“Yes,” Ahuitzotl said, reluctantly making up his mind. “I won’t prolong your anguish by deferring this. It’s best that I face him and get this issue resolved.”
No longer was it possible for him to postpone the inevitable request and so, with the gravest of misgivings, he determined his course: he would talk to Tizoc.
XIV
Ahuitzotl saw the drillmaster waiting for him when he entered his headquarters after having left the garden.
“You sent for Motecuhzoma, Lord?” he asked his commander.
“Ah yes. Is he here?”
“In your chamber, Lord.”
When Ahuitzotl walked in, the young chieftain braced himself in an erect stance; his countenance was one of undue sobriety, reflecting a tenseness quite unusual for him.
“You may relax, Motecuhzoma,” Ahuitzotl directed. “We have no more need for such formality as we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Favorable fortune brings you here—you’re being assigned to this headquarters to assume duties as my aide. I believe congratulations are in order.”
Motecuhzoma’s confusion was clearly in evidence; he did not expect these news and, until now, had been under the impression he faced a reprimand for his conduct at Toluca. But a change of command assignment after only a few weeks as squadron leader—that was severe, Ahuitzotl’s comments to the contrary.
“You look bewildered,” Ahuitzotl noted, “and not pleased. I don’t take kindly to bestowing privileged positions on ingrates. What disturbs you about this?”
“I don’t know what to make of it, Lord. I’ve been led to believe a command assignment is desirable for a young chieftain. You congratulate me, and yet I sense that this is a blemish on my record. Has my command been considered unsatisfactory?”
“Have you cause to think it might?”
“I’m aware of having taken certain discretions at Toluca which at the time I thought proper and in conformance with my duties, but have since been told they were against procedures and contravened orders.”
“How did you reconcile your squadron’s attack on the temple as such?”
Motecuhzoma, puzzled that the exploit he had considered his most daring was regarded his worst mistake by his superiors, pondered over this.
“The priests were armed and gave every indication they meant to fight,” he finally said. “I may have miscalculated their purpose but in the heat of battle, I was not inclined to question them about it.”
“Slaying the priests, while unfortunate, did not constitute a violation of orders. It’s unlikely they would have surrendered to you; your initial estimate that they meant to fight was undoubtedly correct. But why was their god toppled from his pedestal and hurled from the temple?”
Motecuhzoma delayed in his search for an acceptable answer; his division commander had offered no explanation over his indignation and this was the first time he was asked about the idol.
“I suppose I failed to exercise proper restraint,” he said.
“A mistake!” Ahuitzotl was quick to point out. “It has generated significant condemnation from our priests for which I was accountable, and for which I have been subjected to considerable rebuke. They profess to honor the gods of all nations with the same reverence they hold for ours and are inclined to readily accept these into our pantheon. You should have know this, having been schooled in Calixtlahuaca. Isn’t that what they teach you there?”
“They do, Lord.” acknowledged Motecuhzoma, quite red-faced.
“That’s all you can say about it?”
“I’ve already admitted that I failed to take due care. Am I supposed to grovel in the dirt and beg for forgiveness?”
“Certainly not to me,” Ahuitzotl smiled, amused by Motecuhzoma’s sarcasm, “but perhaps to the priests of the god you offended. He was the patron god of the Tolucans, the equivalent of our revered Tonatiuh. The priests are adamant that you have committed a sacrilege and expect you to atone for it. As a matter of practicality, I advise you to adhere to their wishes. Do some act of repentance which will please them.”
“What should I do?”
“You ask me that? I find our panoply of deities confusing enough without knowing the