Song of the Hummingbird Read Online Free PDF

but as I now look back I see that it was those five days that were the first turning.”
    â€œWhy were those days so important for you?”
    â€œThey were important to all Mexica maidens because they were the days in which a woman was prepared for her husband. For me, they were significant because at their end I would be married to Tetla. He would then discover that I was not a virgin and I was in terror of what he would do. In fact, I considered those days to be my last in this life.”
    â€œIn Spain, such a husband has the right to kill the woman for deceiving him.”
    â€œIn the time of the Mexicas this, too, was the man’s privilege. However, Tetla was a proud man. To kill me would be to publicly acknowledge his disgrace. I prayed during those days before the ceremony that he would fear the shame of public humiliation and mockery so much that he would keep the truth to himself. For that he would have to let me live. You see, I was torn between the certainly of dying and the hope of living.”
    Father Benito nodded in understanding, and he was surprised by the compassion he was feeling for Huitzitzilin. He was amazed at himself because he had not imagined that he could sympathize with a woman who had betrayed her husband. In an attempt to shake off the emotion, he changed the direction of her words.
    â€œWhat did Tetla look like?”
    â€œI thought him very ugly. I was in my fifteenth year and he was much older. He had lewd eyes that looked at me in a repulsive way. Layers of skin rolled over and under those terrible eyes, and even though he wore richly decorated mantles, the blubber of his body was obvious.”
    â€œI see. Was a concubine considered less important than a wife, as is the case in my country?”
    â€œNo. A man could have numerous wives, and just as many concubines.”
    Father Benito looked intently at Huitzitzilin, as if trying to untie a stubborn knot. “Then why did a man take a concubine if he could make her his wife? It tells me that somehow the concubine had less importance, less value.”
    Huitzitzilin wrinkled her brow and pursed her thin lips as she reflected on the monk’s words. He thought that she looked like a sparrow.
    â€œI’ve forgotten the answer to your question. I no longer remember the difference. I do know, however, that the marriage ceremony was the same.”
    â€œI’m interested in the ceremony, or whatever ritual took place. Can you remember something about the preparation days?”
    The woman hunched deeper into the chair as she intertwined her bony fingers. Her frail body remained with Father Benito, but he understood that her mind had flown to the time of her youth.
    â€œThe first day was the day of the girl’s dedication to the goddess of the earth and fertility, Tonantzin; the ceremony began at daybreak. The ritual was not long, and it involved the High Priest—how I detested that old snake by the time the five days were over—a few mumbled prayers, little girls that threw flower petals over the head of the young woman, and then the burial of tiny stone replicas of the goddess, thus ensuring fertility for the spouse-to-be.”
    â€œYou hated the High Priest?” Father Benito was interested in the priestly presence that went on in the lives of the Mexicas, but he was startled at Huit-zitzilin’s irreverence as she spoke of the man. What if she thought of him, a Catholic priest, in the same manner? He decided to put the thought aside for another time.
    â€œIt was at this point of the ceremony that I prayed that my womb not be enriched.”
    The monk was momentarily taken back by what the woman had said. “You mean the opposite, don’t you? You prayed for a fruitful womb.”
    â€œNo. I meant what I said. I did not want to get impregnated by Tetla. I’ve already told you that I felt only repulsion for him.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œNo. You don’t see. But