“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.”
XVIII
No words could have more effectively described her utter despair than the shocked expression on Pelaxilla’s face when Ahuitzotl told her of his meeting with Tizoc. After listening to what he had to tell her, she sat dazed on the stone bench staring blankly into the flower beds in front of her. There were no tears; her astonishment was too great for that, and the full impact of this reversal had not yet totally implanted itself. To Ahuitzotl, her quietness seemed overpowering and he was greatly discomfited by it.
“The news is terrible,” he said, “but you must not let it demoralize you like this. It’s not as though we’ll never see each other again. We can continue to meet here and enjoy our company.”
She did not answer and retained her vacant focus on the flower patch.
“Everything went wrong,” Ahuitzotl said on. “This was not the time to see him. I should have abided by my instincts and not allowed myself to be swayed of my better judgment.”
Still she said nothing, and her silence unnerved Ahuitzotl who strove to end her dejection. “Don’t think of this as final,” he offered in consolation. “If I wait for a day when he is in better disposition, he may accede to our wishes. There’s always a chance I can perform some feat he will appreciate and grant my request for you. When you think about it, the possibilities are numerous, so end your gloominess, my pretty one. All is not lost. You shall yet be mine.”
“Can’t