Feathered Serpent Read Online Free PDF Page B

But his attention was not on the cacique . He was more concerned with what the delegation had brought with them in their canoes. In line with his demands, there was a certain amount of gold, worked into some disappointingly small figurines of birds and lizards. There was also some precious stones and a pair of gold sandals, all of which the cacique ’s slaves laid out on mats on the ground.
    The pickings were not as rich as he had hoped but he was surprised at the craftsmanship. He turned to Aguilar. “Ask him where the gold comes from.”
    Aguilar translated the query. “He says the mines are far inland. In a place called Mexico.”
    “Does this Mexico have much gold?”
    “He says the king of the Mexica is the wealthiest sovereign in the whole world,” Aguilar said.
    Cortés took a moment to digest this piece of information. “Does this king have a name?”
    Aguilar asked the question several times, checking his pronunciation. “Motecuhzoma,” he said finally. “His name is Motecuhzoma.”
    Their conversation was interrupted by a harsh bark of laughter from the river. He looked up around. The Indians had brought women in one of the canoes and they were being lifted ashore by the cacique ’s slaves. The men had moved in for a closer inspection. Jaramillo nudged Alvarado’s ribs and made some ribald comment. More laughter.
    Cortés mouth twisted in contempt. Dogs! Even Alvarado with his fine manners and his coat of arms. None of them understood what it meant to be a knight in the service of a great king.
    “The women are the most beautiful in all of Acalan,” Aguilar translated for the cacique , who had noticed Cortés interest. “He says he puts them at your service, to grind maize for you, mend your clothes and ...” Aguilar paused and his cheeks flushed bronze. “... and to perform any other services you desire.”
    There were twenty women in all. They were dressed in the Mayan custom; plain white tunics and cotton skirts, almost to their ankles, and held at the waist by an embroidered belt. Their ears, wrists and ankles glittered with gold, their hair decorated with brilliant green quetzal feathers and pink flamingo plumes. But the trinkets and plumes could not disguise the fact that most were squat and plain. Several were even cross-eyed; a mark of great beauty among the Mayan Indians, Aguilar whispered to him.
    And then he saw her.
    She was no slave girl, it showed in her bearing. She was unusually tall for a natural and instead of demurely studying the ground like the others she stared straight back at him, and in her black eyes he saw both a challenge and an invitation.
    He felt the beast move in him. A delicious creature, his for the taking in other circumstances.
    The cacique murmured something to Aguilar.
    “He says her name is Ce Malinali Tenepal. It means One Grass of Penance. Tenepal is ... well, it is a name you give to someone who likes to talk a lot.”
    Finally she lowered her eyes in submission. But she did not seem at all discomfited by his stare and did not giggle and chatter like the other women.
    “The chief says she is very skilled with herbs and is a great healer,” Aguilar said.
    “Thank him kindly for his gifts,” Cortés said.
    The cacique ’s tone became more urgent. “He asks that you do not burn the town,” Aguilar translated. “That is how the victors generally behave in this heathen country,” he added.
    “It is how victors behave almost everywhere. But you may assure the chief we do not intend any harm to him or his village. But in return for our beneficence he must renounce his false idols and the practice of human sacrifice. He will instead give obeisance to our Lord Jesus Christ.”
    There was a long and animated discussion. Finally Aguilar said: “I do not think he quite understands everything. I will instruct him further.”
    “Good. I leave the responsibility for their salvation to you and
    Father Olmedo.”
    Cortés returned his attention to the