‘Catherine.’
Extepan’s voice woke me from my doze. I stretched in my seat, yawning, and heard Extepan say, ‘You asked to be told when we came in sight of Tenochtitlan. There it is.’
He was pointing through the window. It had been dark when I fell asleep, but now dawn was breaking. The carrier had banked over the Valley of Mexico, and there below us, sitting on a lake that was the colour of blood in the gathering light, rose the city.
I stared in silence for long minutes. Tenochtitlan looked like a vast intricate sculpture of many colours, its towers, spires and pyramids rising from a network of lower buildings in which I could discern gardens, courtyards and swimming pools. The city was divided into wedges and trapezoids, cut and crossed at innumerable points by canals which gave access to the wider waters of Lake Texcoco on all sides.
During my honeymoon, I had visited Venice with Alex and been suitably impressed by this city built on water, but at that moment Tenochtitlan seemed even more marvellous. Less than twenty years before, it had been a sprawling metropolis like many others, sitting on a lake bed that was almost entirely dry But then a major earthquake had struck, killing thousands and making hundreds of thousands homeless. Only the old central quarters of the city, built on the ancient island, had survived without extensive damage. It was then that Motecuhzoma had decided on a radical plan to reshape the city in its former image The surrounding suburbs had been levelled, their populations transferred to satellite towns around the edges of the valley. Then the lake had been restored by a prodigious feat of engineering
which only an autocratic will and the economic power of an empire could have made possible. Using old plans, Motecuhzoma’s architects had re-created the ancient heart of the city with as much fidelity as possible. Modern materials and construction methods were used to restore the palaces and houses of the nobles, while the pre-Christian temples were repaired and repainted in their garish pagan colours. They dotted the city at regular intervals, the main ceremonial centre an extensive complex at its very heart.
‘Well?’ said Extepan.
‘It’s breathtaking,’ I replied.
In the seat behind me, Bevan was taking photographs, while opposite Richard had his nose pressed to the window as Xochinenen provided a commentary.
‘Wait until you have a chance to travel around,’ Extepan said to me. ‘It’s even better then.’
There was unashamed pride in his voice. He had recovered his good humour immediately I had made a last-minute decision to accompany him to Mexico. It occurred to me that in his youth he must have seen the city rising anew, ancient yet modern, from the ruins of the old.
Why had I changed my mind and decided to visit Mexico? If I am honest, I believe I was worn down by my ineffectual efforts to resist Aztec hegemony; and I had co-operated with Extepan’s administration on too many occasions to maintain the pretence that I was not compromised. I think I had also begun to accept the fact of the occupation, as did the vast majority of my countryfolk. I no longer had the capacity to see the Aztecs as my enemies except on some abstract level which seemed increasingly remote from the daily lives of myself and others around me. Even Bevan seemed fatalistic about the situation and had readily agreed to accompany me to Tenochtitlan. Familiarity breeds not contempt but acceptance. Of course, this doesn’t mean that I went without qualms: I think I secretly knew that I was surrendering my last hope of maintaining my integrity; and it was Extepan who had masterminded this.
Soon afterwards, we landed at a private airfield in Azcapotzalco, formerly a suburb of the city, now a large town on the western shore of the lake. It was warm when we emerged, the
sun rising in a rosy haze over the mountains. I could see snow on the twin peaks of Popocatepetl and Itzaccihuatl to the south-east.
We were ushered aboard a floater for the short flight to Motecuhzoma’s palace on Chapultepec. The palace, undamaged by the earthquake, had been the residence of every
tlatoani
since the sixteenth century, and it sprawled across the hill which overlooked the lake, a rambling, white-stuccoed fortress combining elements of pre-Christian, Renaissance Spanish and modern Aztec architecture. Corbelled towers jostled with chevroned battlements, ornate cupolas with sculpted square entranceways, all combining to a fairytale castle effect; yet at the same time it bristled with aerials and satellite dishes. Within and beyond it, stretched tiered rock gardens ablaze with shrubs and flowers.
The floater descended on to a landing pad which jutted from the battlements. Richard could scarcely wait to get out of his seat. He and Xochinenen were staying a few days to pay their respects to the emperor before flying on to Hawaii for a holiday.
A lift whisked us down into the heart of the building, and we walked through marble hallways decorated with Aztec frescoes and
objets d’art
from all over the world. The frescoes, illustrating ancient battles in bright polychrome, were unsparing of the mutilations and degradations of war: the severed limbs, the burning temples, the prostrations of the vanquished.
Chicomeztli took Richard and Xochinenen off to their suite, while Extepan led Bevan and me into an apartment whose sweeping balcony looked out over the hill. Again I had another view of the city, now stirring as morning advanced. Boats and solar barges were cutting swathes through the lake, raising flocks of white birds from the waters; traffic was moving slowly along the elevated motorway linking the city with the suburb towns on the western shore. The still air was heavy with the scent of flowers.
‘I think you’ll be comfortable here,’ Extepan remarked.
The apartment was airy and spacious, simply furnished with white walls and ochre floor-tiles. The furniture was sturdy Canadian Colonial, even down to the four-poster bed. On the balcony was a private swimming pool.
‘I’m sure I shall,’ I replied.
Extepan took Bevan through an adjoining door into a smaller
apartment. As at the complex, the lock was on my side. The Aztecs always accommodated him without question, and I had often wondered if Extepan considered I had the same ties of obligation towards Bevan as he did to Mia. And perhaps, in some ways, he was right.
Extepan returned and indicated a desk console which included a telephone.
‘If you require anything,’ he said, ‘just lift the receiver. Chicomeztli or someone else will be at the other end of the line. Now, I must see that Richard and Xochinenen are comfortable.’
I accompanied him to the door. There he paused.
‘Catherine, I am so glad you decided to come.’
‘So am I,’ I replied.
We were standing close. He hesitated, then said, ‘I shall show you round later,’ before briskly marching off.
I turned. Bevan was standing in the doorway between our apartments.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘Here we are, then.’
‘I’m still surprised you decided to come,’ I said.
He grinned. ‘Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, would I?’
We were served a light lunch of salad and beans in our rooms, and afterwards Tetzahuitl visited. He had his own residence in Coyoacan, to the south of the city, but he was frequently to be found in Motecuhzoma’s palace, where the
tlatocan
met regularly and all important decisions affecting the empire were taken. He was dressed traditionally in dark green robes over a tunic embroidered with a butterfly motif. Crimson-feathered head-bands adorned his hair.
He presented me with a bouquet of turquoise roses. We sat on the balcony while a servant brought us iced sorrel water, a brilliant red tea.
‘The
tlatoani
will receive you tomorrow,’ he told me. ‘We are greatly honoured you were able to come.’
‘The honour is mine,’ I replied. ‘I never imagined I would visit Tenochtitlan.’
‘I hope you will have the opportunity to see much of the city. There are many sights.’
‘That would be most gratifying.’
We sipped the crimson tea, the formal conversational exchanges satisfactorily completed. Tetzahuitl regarded me.
‘I hear much of your bravery,’ he remarked. ‘You visited Extepan at the Russian front, is that not so?’
‘I don’t think that was bravery,’ I replied. ‘I felt partly responsible for Precious Cloud’s death, and I thought it was important that Extepan heard about what had happened from someone who was there rather than get the news through a dispatch.’
‘That was considerate of you. Nevertheless, you took a great risk.’
‘Perhaps. Though I felt that I would be quite safe travelling under the protection of your armies.’
He smiled at this. ‘It was unfortunate the Tsarina Margaret was a casualty of the war. We did not intend that the Tsar and his family should perish. You have my sympathies.’
I looked away. ‘Somehow, I knew that when the war started I would never see her again.’
This was true, though it was the first time I had articulated it to myself. I was growing superstitious that everyone I was close to was gradually being lost to me.
Tetzahuitl seemed aware of the drift of my thoughts because he said, ‘I think you are a survivor.’
His tone remained dry, so there was no means of telling whether it was meant as encouragement or as a simple statement.
‘I think I have some way to go before I can match you,’ I remarked.
He was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘Indeed you do. Indeed you do.’
He rose, drawing his robes around him.
‘I shall leave you now. No doubt you will wish to sleep. May no monsters disturb your slumber.’
With this rather chilling valediction, he departed.
I fell soundly asleep soon afterwards, and woke to find that it was night. Going out on to the balcony, I looked towards the city, which shone with lights in the darkness. It looked more exotic than ever, its reflection twinkling and shimmering in the dark waters, a fairytale place made real.
The night air was cool, but I stripped off and plunged into the pool. Afterwards, towelled and clad in a robe, I heard Bevan moving about in his room.
I tapped on the door. ‘Are you up?’
‘I’m making some tea,’ he called. ‘Fancy a cup?’
We sat out on the balcony to drink it, watching boats move about on the dark waters and identifying neon signs in the coastal towns, advertising the Culhua Bank, Tijuana Film, the ubiquitous MexTaco with its arching golden M. Bevan dunked Jaffa Cakes in his tea, complaining that the milk in Tenochtitlan wasn’t the same as at home. He had brought a box of teabags and several packets of biscuits from London.
Next day, Extepan took us on a tour of the gardens. The Aztec passion for flowers was demonstrated in the huge variety on display. Rare tropical orchids were bedded with alpine gentians, rainforest shrubs with poppies from the Atacama Desert, all biomodified to thrive in the climate of the Valley of Mexico. There were lakes and rockeries, a cactus garden and even a refrigerated tundra stocked with flowering mosses. Some areas had been set aside so that wild animals could roam free on the terraces, and there was a special reserve for the big cats. Selective breeding methods had produced striped lions and leopards with dark fur and tawny spots; they were commercially farmed, their skins highly valued for costumes and upholstery. The gardens were used for leisure by the palace staff, many of whom were close relatives of the emperor himself. Two of Extepan’s half-sisters accompanied us on the tour, and Extepan himself was more relaxed than I had ever seen him.
Afterwards I returned to my suite to take a nap. Then Chicomeztli arrived with half a dozen female retainers, who proceeded to dress me for my audience with Motecuhzoma. I did not welcome their attentions, deferential though they were, never having liked household staff fussing around me, even as a child. By the time Extepan arrived, I was not in the most gracious of humours.
As soon as we were left alone, he began to instruct me on the etiquette of the occasion. The
tlatoani
would be seated, and I was expected to approach him with my head bowed, not looking at
him until he had spoken to me. I would then be told where to sit, and could afterwards proceed in a naturalistic manner, as the conversation dictated.
‘Is that all?’ I said acidly. ‘You mean I won’t have to prostrate myself and swear undying fealty to his magnificence?’
Extepan looked a little abashed. ‘He’s our ruler, Catherine. It’s simply our custom, the way we show him our respect. Richard has already seen him. He raised no objections. And he was treated with all the courtesies of his position.’
‘Richard will do whatever you tell him. He would have kissed his feet if you had demanded it of him.’
‘A bow is a token of honour, not submission.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion.’
Extepan looked exasperated. ‘You agreed to come here. If these formalities are beyond you …’
I was being bloody-minded just for the sake of it. I relented with a smile. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll behave myself.’
A sigh. ‘You’re impossible!’
‘It’s part of my charm.’
I was dressed in a gown of burgundy velvet and cream silk, adorned with the diamond jewellery which had once been my mother’s. Extepan wore the
tlacateccatl
’s uniform. An Eagle Star medal was pinned to his left breast. It was the empire’s highest military decoration, but Extepan was almost dismissive when I drew attention to it.
‘I was awarded it after the surrender of Moscow,’ he told me.
‘You sound as if you feel you don’t deserve it.’
‘There were others in our armies who had a braver war than I. But my father expects us to wear our decorations with pride. Shall we go?’
He offered his arm. I took it.
We walked along the spacious corridors of the palace, finally entering a wide hallway whose ceilings were decorated with representations of
tlalocan
, the heavenly preserve of warriors killed in battle. A green obsidian fountain at the centre of the hall held a figure which spewed water from its mouth and ears. It was the goddess Chalchihuitlicue.
Motecuhzoma’s palace within a palace could only be reached by an escalator flanked with guards. Extepan told me his father
preferred a stairway to an elevator, which made him prone to vertigo. He had long been known for his dislike of flying, tolerating it as a young man but later refusing to travel any distance by air.