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 ceremonial demands of each particular one of them. I propitiate my favorites and tell myself that by pleasing them, I please all the rest. For the others I rely on the priests to keep them content. Go to the priests of Tonatiuh; they will instruct you on what they want. Perhaps they expect you to fast in their temple for a number of days—how should I know?”
Motecuhzoma still had a befuddled look about him, “Is it at the request of the priests that I am being reassigned?”
“No, it is at my request.”
“Pardon me if I am confused, Lord. It strikes me odd that you should want me after making apparent your annoyance over what I had done.”
“I have my reasons. But for now, settle this account with Tonatiuh’s priests. Do not allow them to impose excessive conditions on you that will keep you from your duties here.”
“Am I to argue with them if they do?”
“Whatever, but use tact. I can’t afford to have them oppose me again.”
Motecuhzoma then left the chamber to proceed for the temple of Tonatiuh. Originally Ahuitzotl was bent on chastising him for breaking the battle order, but he recognized that this was a delicate issue. As a royal, Motecuhzoma had easy access to Tizoc—to have censured him for coming to the monarch’s rescue would have been a monumental blunder. He did the correct thing in referencing the problem to the attack on the temple; this way, should Tizoc conduct his own interrogations, he would not be found in a compromised position.
Ahuitzotl remained deeply troubled over his earlier encounter with Pelaxilla. Theirs was, in many respects, a frustrating relationship: when they were together, they argued a lot, exposing more than they should of their inner passions, yet, when apart, he was constantly preoccupied with thoughts of her. He often felt uncomfortable when with her, but then even worse when without her—if this is love then he was certainly a happier man without it. This could not be what poets elevate to such lofty scales: it is entirely too painful. While he was thus absorbed in his contemplation, the drillmaster returned and informed him of still another visitor.
“Our chief minister, Cihuacoatl is here to see you, Lord.”
“Just what I need,” Ahuitzotl muttered to himself in his agitated state, unenthusiastic over this call. “Very well, send him in.”
Cihuacoatl entered and took his place on the bench now familiar to him while Ahuitzotl studied his features with a critical eye; he had a good notion why the minister came. “Twice here in a month?” Ahuitzotl said. “Something draws you to this place.”
“Don’t trifle with me, Lord!” exclaimed the minister grimly. “Portentous movements
