‘I shall accompany you,’ and the two of them left the courtyard.
Ixta stirred, propped himself upon his elbows, shook his head and exercised his neck muscles.
Tlotoxl looked down at him. ‘Could you not fight against it?’
‘I was powerless.’ Ixta rose groggily to his feet and leaned against the courtyard wall. ‘My strength was drained from me like that,’ and he snapped his fingers. Tlotoxl was disconcerted.
Tonila, a small, portly, balding Priest of Knowledge waddled, posy in hand, into the courtyard, bowed to Tlotoxl and announced that the Perfect Victim desired to be admitted.
‘All his requests must be granted,’ Tlotoxl replied, and as Tonila left he reiterated quietly, ‘must be granted.’ The Perfect Victim entered the courtyard. He was a handsome youth of eighteen and his white loincloth and cloak were hemmed with gold thread, which had also been used to weave the eagle and coiled-snake motif on the back of his cloak. Even his sandals were white.
‘You grace the Chosen Warriors’ barracks by your presence.’ Tlotoxl gestured towards Ixta. ‘Here is one who would be commander of our armies.’
‘Ixta, I have heard of your valour and your skill,’ the Perfect Victim exclaimed, and then looked puzzled. ‘Why do you say "would be" when all know he is to be the commander?’
‘There are some who say the accounts of his deeds and the truth are far apart,’ Tlotoxl replied, looking slyly at Ixta, who was furious.
‘No man can win against me,’ he shouted.
‘None, not one?’ Tlotoxl sneered.
‘I shall lead our armies,’ Ixta replied stubbornly. ‘It is my right’
‘Yesterday it seemed so,’ Tlotoxl remarked dryly. Ixta glared at him, picked up the cudgel, stomped off to the centre of the courtyard and began practising swings and blows.
Tonila looked with surprise at the High Priest of Sacrifice.
‘You would make an enemy?’ he asked naively.
‘I?’ Tlotoxl protested. ‘I only know that I have seen a man who could defeat him.’
‘Defeat Ixta’ The Perfect Victim could hardly believe his ears.
Ixta stopped swinging the cudgel and turned towards them.’Once. And that by a trick’ He pointed the cudgel at Tlotoxl. ‘I tell you that face to face, I can pull the stranger down’
‘Perhaps’
‘You drive the man.’ The Perfect Victim’s voice was reproachful.‘How often have you and Autloc instructed me that small failings in a man maybe his saving graces?’ ‘But you, oh Perfect Victim, are as your name implies’ Tlotoxl replied. ‘When the time is ripe and you face the Gods, all failings will have dropped away. How else could you meet the Gods to tell them of the Aztecs?’ He paused dramatically and then raised his voice. ‘Should not the commander of our armies be equally pure so that his very name will strike awe and dread in our enemies’ camps?’
The Perfect Victim considered the High Priest’s argument and nodded. ‘He who defeated Ixta should command’
‘No’ Ixta roared.
Tlotoxl raised a calming hand and conceded that Yetaxa’s servant may have won through trickery. ‘A second contest would resolve the matter but I cannot order it,’ he shrugged his shoulders and waited for Tonila, in his simplicity, to come to the rescue.
‘The Perfect Victim’s desires must be fulfilled at all times,’ he burbled.
Tlotoxl clenched his fists in delight as the Perfect Victim went to Ixta’s side.
‘My faith in Ixta is supreme,’ the young man said, ‘and it is my desire the Chosen Warriors meet in contest once again’
‘As the sun sets, I shall arrange it,’ Tlotoxl promised, and then casually expressed his opinion that two men fought better when one challenged the other as there was less vigour in a contest made for entertainment.
‘I shall challenge the stranger,’ said Ixta.
‘Let it be so,’ the Perfect Victim said, and left the courtyard with Tonila.
Tlotoxl limped to Ixta’s side and whispered in his ear. ‘This I promise you, all honour and glory shall he yours if you destroy him.’
The Doctor and Camera were in the garden looking at the flowers and plants. The Doctor touched a leaf and asked her what it was.
‘It is herbal and the sap of the stem is used by those who practise medicine to induce sleep!
‘I think I know of it,’ the Doctor replied, straightening up. As he did so, he scratched the back of his hand on a thorn of the maguey cactus plant which grew beside the herb. ‘Ouch!’ He put the back of his hand to his mouth. Cameca laughed and suggested that Yetaxa’s aged servant might care to sleep until the wound healed. The Doctor declined, smiling, and they walked on along the path.
‘What do you call yourself?’ Cameca asked.
‘I’m known as the Doctor, but I am not a healer. I am a scientist, an engineer, a builder of things.’
‘Now I understand your interest in the pyramid and the temple.’
The Doctor admitted that there were several details concerning the interior that intrigued him and this time came straight to the point.
‘Yetaxa’s tomb, for example, is sealed, but surely the builder, now what was his name... ah... Chalap..’ ‘Chapala’ Cameca said.
‘Yes, of course,’ the Doctor replied.’ Surely he devised a way of opening it.’
Cameca admitted that her knowledge of the pyramid was insufficient to answer his query, but she was sure Chapal’s grandson would know the answer.
The Doctor stopped and sniffed an exotic flower. ‘Such fragrance,’ he murmured and added that he didn’t want to pry into what might be a family secret.
‘No one could think that of you,’ she replied. ‘When shall the meeting be?’
‘Oh, any time.’ The Doctor was nonchalant. ‘Today?’ Cameca observed that an interested mind brooked no delay.
The Doctor looked at her and smiled. ‘I’m sure that’s true of you, Cameca.’
She blushed. ‘It was once. Now I’m content to pass the time of day here like the others.’
‘Their minds are old, dear lady, something yours will never be,’ the Doctor protested.
Cameca smiled. ‘Your heart too is young, Doctor.’ She touched his hand and said she would go and see the builder’s grandson at once.
As she hurried away the Doctor sighed. He had a sense of guilt because, much as he liked Cameca, he knew he was using her. And does the end justify the means, he asked himself. In this instance, definitely, yes; the thought was resolute, but the guilt still niggled.
Barbara received the High Priest of Sacrifice in the temple. Seated on the throne, she was determined to draw on all the divinity she could muster. She looked down at Tlotoxl and waited for him to speak.
‘The High Priest of Knowledge will question you.’ ‘And if he finds I am the Spirit of Yetaxa returned, what then?’
‘I shall beg forgiveness of the Gods for my unworthy doubts.’
‘I will remember the words of the High Priest of Sacrifice.’
Tlotoxl leant towards the throne, his impenetrable eyes glistening. ‘Remember this also.’ His voice was a menace. ‘Whilst your divinity is in dispute, only those who serve the temple may approach you.’
‘My servant also,’ Barbara protested.
‘No!’ Tlotoxl spat out the word. ‘You are to remain alone.’
‘For what reason?’ Barbara enquired calmly.
‘A false God’s servants would conspire against us,’ Tlotoxl said accusingly. ‘Such a danger we are not prepared to tolerate.’
‘Then let my servants be told they may not enter here,’ Barbara replied evenly. it will be done,’ Tlotoxl replied and limped out of the temple leaving a very disquieted Barbara behind him.
Cameca was walking along the broad avenue on her way to the barracks when a messenger approached her. He bowed respectfully and said that Ixta, the Chosen Warrior, sought her counsel. Cameca smiled and replied that she would go directly to his quarters.
She came into the courtyard and went over to Ixta’s door, which was open. She called his name and Ixta invited her in.
The quarters consisted of three small rooms. On one side of the central living area was the bathroom, essential to most dwellings, as the Aztecs, with the exception of High Priests of Sacrifice, bathed two or three times a day. On the other side was the bedroom with a woven straw mattress on the floor and two wicker-work trunks for Ixta’s loincloths and cloaks. His head-dresses were kept on a shelf, his sandals underneath it. The main room had a legless square wooden table with a cushion at each side. Iota pointed to a cushion and Cameca sat down. Ixta sat facing her.
‘I was told you wish to see me, Iota.’
‘I would seek your advice, Cameca.’
‘If I can give it, I shall,’ she replied.
Ixta rubbed behind his left ear with his thumb and asked what she knew of magic.
‘Nothing,’ Cameca admitted, ‘though it is my belief I know one who does.’
Ixta leaned forward. ‘What name has this person?’ ‘He is known as the Doctor and is the aged servant of Yetaxa.’
Ixta dismissed the suggestion with a wave of his hand. ‘He is of no use to me.’
‘You may be of service to him,’ Camera said. ‘He seeks an interview with you.’
Iota was curious. ‘To what end?’
‘He is interested in your lamented father’s father’s work. In particular the temple,’ she added.
Ixta ran his hand across his face. ‘Does he know my name?’ he asked abruptly.
‘Do not reveal it, but say that I shall meet him.’ His voice was casual.
‘Where?’
‘Does he not spend his day in the temple garden?’ Cameca nodded.
‘Then there, I shall pass by after the sun is over the zenith and my food has been brought to me.’ He stood up and helped Camera to her feet.
‘I shall deliver those words, Ixta.’ She felt pleased to have been of service to the Doctor, as she liked his company.
‘Be mindful not to reveal my name,’ Ixta called to her from the doorway as Camera crossed the courtyard. Then he went back into the room chuckling. There was no better way to destroy one’s enemies than to let them destroy themselves.
The cell Susan occupied at the seminary was one of several which opened onto a cloister. It was a small room with only a woven straw mattress, a wicker-work trunk and a cushion for furniture. She wore a full-length simple grey robe with short sleeves, and a multicoloured sash tied around her waist. She sat on the cushion looking up at Autloc, who stood in front of her. ‘You have been taught the code of the good housewife and committed it to memory?’ the High Priest asked.
‘I have,’ Susan replied.
‘Let me hear it.’
‘Tend well your nurseries and your flowerbeds. Keep clean your pot and stewpan,’ she recited, ‘do not spend recklessly, do not destroy or cheapen yourself.’ She hesitated, thinking about the word ‘destroy’ and Tlotoxl.
‘You will never have —’ Autloc prompted as Tonila came into the cell.
‘Oh, yes. You will never have a house or a home of your own if you live like that,’ she rattled off. Tonila nodded approvingly and remarked that Susan had learnt it diligently. Susan wondered if the Priest of Knowledge would like to know about Einstein’s theory of relativity.
Autloc praised her as a good pupil who used her intelligence and then introduced Tonila. Susan stood up and went to shake hands.
‘You do not greet your elders in such a manner,’ Autloc reproached her, ‘you stand still, not looking around. Your eyes see only the person to whom you are being introduced,’ he made a small gesture with his posy, ‘unless you are meeting for the first time your prospective husband, in which case you keep your eyes down-cast.’
‘But how will I know?’ Susan was intrigued.
‘Know what, child?’
‘That he’s to be my husband.’
‘You will be told,’ Autloc stated very matter-of-factly. ‘Told!’ Susan exploded. ‘No one’s going to tell me who to marry.’
Tonila was taken aback. ‘What say have you in the matter?’
‘It’s my life,’ Susan’s voice was full of indignation, ‘and I’ll spend it with whom I choose, not someone picked out for me.’
Autloc was perturbed by her outburst. Young Aztec women accepted arranged marriages without question but if, as Yetaxa’s handmaiden, Susan refused, that meant their traditional behaviour was contrary to the Gods’ wishes. If this were so, then in how many other ways might they also be so acting? The seed of doubt was sown.
The Doctor was weeding a flowerbed when Ixta came into the garden. He strode over to the Doctor and identified himself as the grandson of Chapal, the man who built the temple. The Doctor straightened and looked at Ixta, who wore an ordinary warrior’s loincloth and cloak, as well as a plumed battle-mask which concealed the upper half of his face.
‘Ah!’ the Doctor said, and expressed his admiration of the pyramid. ‘The entrance to the tomb of the High Priest Yetaxa is a particularly fine piece of work.’ ‘Only the temples my father’s father built have similar vaults,’ Ixta replied.
‘A secret design. All the best architects have one,’ the Doctor remarked.
‘A drawing exists,’ Ixta said, adding that as his father and his grandfather were with the Gods it was in his possession.
‘Would it be possible for me to see it?’ the Doctor enquired.
‘Can a humble warrior deny the request of Yetaxa’s aged servant? I shall show it to you after sunset if the Gods are willing.’
‘Why shouldn’t they be?’
The Doctor was curious and Ixta explained that he had to meet another warrior in combat just before the sun set.
‘Not to the death, I trust?’ the Doctor asked anxiously. ‘No, but defeat would mean disgrace,’ Ixta replied, ‘and I would be confined to my quarters and no one might look upon me or speak to me for many days.’
The Doctor gave the problem his consideration.
‘My opponent has been selected,’ Ixta continued. ‘I know his name and I fear defeat.’
The Doctor asked what weapons would be used.
Ixta spread out his hands. ‘These alone, and my skills lie with a spear, sword or club.’
‘Oh dear,’ the Doctor sighed, ‘and I really wanted to see the drawing.’
‘No more than I desire a victory.’
The Doctor studied the scratch on the back of his hand. ‘Then let us assist one another,’ he said, and led Ixta to the maguey cactus plant. The Doctor broke off a thorn and then a shoot from the herb beside it. He began squeezing the sap from the stem onto the tip of the thorn.