Song of the Hummingbird (12 page)

“As you say, but I would like us to begin working soon because of my lateness this morning.” “Did somebody die?”

“On the contrary, three new brothers arrived from home last night and we had a mass of thanksgiving this morning. It went on longer than expected.”

“Ah!” Huitzitzilin didn't say anything but turned toward the nook where her chair was placed. Father Benito followed her, walking at her slow pace and anticipating what she would relate to him on that day. He was so taken with what he was thinking that he bumped into her when she stopped abruptly.

“It was during those months of waiting that in my jealousy and loneliness I listened to the demon of lust.”

Father Benito was startled by her words; as usual when speaking of her sins, the words were unexpected. He had prepared himself to hear more of the events leading to the fall of Tenochtitlan, and now she was telling of something that surely must have trapped her into transgression.

“Lust? That should be mentioned only in confession, Señora. Is that what you want? Do you want me to hear your sins instead of what you were speaking about yesterday?”

“I cannot separate one from the other. These things happened in my life at the same time, one causing the other, and that intertwining with something else. Oh, please don't reach for your mantle.” She stopped his arm as he began looking for the stole in his pocket. “Can't you just listen to me, then decide what must be forgiven and what must be written?”

Benito frowned but led the way to their place in silence because inwardly he had already accepted what she asked. When she settled in the chair, she began to speak, and the priest listened, his arms resting on his knees.

“Zintle married another woman during those days. There were many such unions then. I suppose it made us all believe that such things would help us against the enemy. As for me, it caused me jealousy, and in my bitterness I took refuge in Baltazar Ovando. Do you remember that I mentioned him before? He was one of the captains that had entered Tenochtitlan.

“You have wondered about my son and how I could have betrayed him by joining my body to that of the enemy. I cannot explain it to you, but I will tell you that I abandoned myself to the torture of jealousy, and when I sensed the blue eyes of the white man upon me, I responded to the wicked spirit of lust, hoping to find relief.

“Little was needed to arouse me, and when he approached me, I didn't hesitate. I fornicated with him many times. I put aside the truth that he was the enemy. I forgot that I loved Zintle and that I had a child. I forgot myself as well, and I could think only of the intense urge that prompted me toward that white body covered with golden fur.”

Huitzitzilin looked at Father Benito, whose face was buried in his hands. He was hunched over; she could see the redness that was tinting his neck. When she stopped speaking, he remained in that position, as if he hadn't heard that she was finished.

“Are you ill, priest?”

“No. I'm not. But what you're telling me should be uttered only in confession, don't you understand?” His voice was filled with frustration and irritation.

“I see. Then I'll return to the events of the city. But please remember that I will come back to this part of my life because it is connected with other things that happened to me.

“Shortly after Tetla's death, life in Tenochtitlan appeared to return to its normal pace. Captain Cortés removed the shackles from Moctezuma's wrists and ankles and tried to renew the relationship they had before the executions. The king, however, did not respond; he was morose one day, sad the next. I remained close to his wife, and it was at that time that I began to spend more and more time with Captain Baltazar.”

Father Benito had resumed writing what Huitzitzilin had to say, intent on recording every one of her words. Whenever he fell behind, he asked her to repeat the omitted word or phrase. She, in turn, had transported her spirit back to those days before the fall of Tenochtitlan.

“I say that things appeared to be as before, but that was not true. We all were aware of the stiffness that marked our talk and our actions, even the most trivial or ordinary. Moctezuma's council ceased to visit him. The nobles and warriors were also absent, and they did this without leave. The wives and concubines of our king disappeared, with the exception of my mistress. His jesters and entertainers came and went as they pleased, and even the quality of his food began to worsen. It was obvious that Moctezuma was losing the respect of the people.

“Even the everyday activity of the city was affected. Traffic in the canals and streets dwindled to a trickle. Noises became muffled, and the usually heavy flow of news from other parts of the kingdom nearly stopped.

“Soon after, Baltazar was selected as one of the officers to accompany Captain Cortés on a trip to the eastern coast, where a certain Captain Narváez was causing trouble. It was rumored that Cortés was apprehensive of whatever mischief that man might cause behind his back.

“By that time Moctezuma's spirit had almost broken down. He neither spoke nor looked anyone in the face. We were barely able to force food into his mouth, and his body seemed to be shrinking.

“He was in that condition when his council finally decided to take action, and they came to inform him of what was happening. They claimed that the War God had appeared to several people, commoners and nobles, demanding that Moctezuma cast out the white devils. The Feathered One was incensed, they said, especially with the desecration of his temples. He protested that the golden ornaments that had been dedicated to his honor now had been melted into bricks in sacrilege.”

Huitzitzilin stopped speaking, allowing time for Father Benito to write what she had just said. But her pause lingered as if she were waiting for him to speak. “Aren't you interested in what the Feathered God was demanding?”

“I don't think it was a god or any such thing that was complaining. What I think is that the people under your king realized that strong action had to be taken, else the end of the kingdom would take place, which, of course, is what happened.”

“Yes. They were looking for a way to be honest with the king. Almost without waiting for Moctezuma to speak about the god, the spokesmen admitted to the king that several of them had taken steps even without his approval. They had sent gifts to bribe Captain Narváez, hoping to turn him against Cortés and create ill will among the white men. They were certain that this would give the Mexicas time to prepare an attack on the Spanish captains.

“His reaction was strange, though. Instead of feeling encouraged by what his nobles had done, Moctezuma became more dejected after that meeting. Some days he was so still that we were certain that he had died.”

Benito interrupted his writing. “Was he a coward? Why did he react that way?”

“Many have said as much, but it is not true. He was trapped, you see, caught between the opposing demands of two gods, and he didn't know how to resolve the dilemma. He could not find a way of balancing one divinity against the other.”

“How do you know all of this? No one has ever written or spoken of these matters.”

“I was there, close to him, and I saw with my eyes, and heard with my ears what I'm telling you.”

“But Captain Cortés has written that your people felt betrayed by Moctezuma.”

“How would he have known? I've told you that he left the city in search of Narváez. He wasn't even in the city at the time, so anything that he said about what happened he heard from someone else.”

Benito was silent for a while, thinking, “There was talk of a massacre that took place in his absence. Did it really happen?”

“Yes. Captain Alvarado was put in charge, and when Cortés left, our spirits rose because we saw it as the opportunity to cast out the white soldiers that remained in the city. Under the pretense of a celebration, our leaders chose the day during which the Spaniards would be surprised and killed. On that day, word spread from mouth to mouth. ‘Dress in your finest. Report to the temple courtyard where weapons will be supplied. Be alert. Kill until the last of the intruders is dead.'

“That day was even more fatal than expected because unknown to anyone, a Tlaxcalteca spy discovered our plan and revealed it to Captain Alvarado, and when the people met in the courtyard, the white soldiers were ready and waiting for us. With one stroke the Spaniards put down hundreds of our people.”

Huitzitzilin was so moved by her recollections that she had to stop speaking, and she held her hands in her lap as the memory of that day swept over her. Father Benito was captivated by the unheard of description of that day, but though he wanted her to continue, he kept silent. He knew the outcome of those events, but now, in his heart, he would have wanted the woman's world not to have been destroyed.

“As planned, every available warrior presented himself at the temple. Women and children would not have been there under normal conditions, but that day was different. Women, along with their children, became partners with men in the first battle between us and the white invaders.

“The courtyard filled with people. At first glance the crowd appeared festive, happy, and noisy. We all wore our most beautiful gowns, mantels, feathered headdresses, gems, golden broaches, and earplugs. But if anyone looked closely, it would have been noticed that the men wore mantles which hid breast shields and war girdles. It would have been clear that our faces did not really smile. Instead, eyes signaled one another, and there was a strain in our greetings. These were the signs that told of the real motive for that gathering.

“As with all of our great ceremonies, it was to begin with the dance of the Serpent Goddess, Cihuatcoatl, and I was one of the women who were invited to be a witness along with other noble women. We stood at the corner of the main court, where the church now stands.”

“Just a moment. Do you remember which corner?” Benito felt himself transported to that day.

“As you face the church, it would have been the corner which is to your right side. It was from there that I could see what was happening. Once when I looked upward, I thought I saw the silhouette of a soldier who seemed to be watching. My fear began at that moment. What was he doing there? Were there others? Had we not been given permission to celebrate this day? What if they knew of our intentions? Despite these questions, I persuaded myself that all was well.

“Boom! Boom! Boom! The giant snake drum belched its deep, hollow voice. Boom! Boom! Boom! We heard the voice of the drum that had been silent ever since the death of our four noble warriors. Boom! Boom! Boom!”

Father Benito's hand flew across the parchment, trying to keep up with what he was hearing. His face was flushed with the excitement caused by the vivid description, and he even included the sounds that came out of Huit-zitzilin's pursed lips in imitation of the legendary drum that only the first discoverers got to see.

“HaaaReee! HaaaReee! The ceremonial conch shells bleated their mournful cry as we prepared for the ceremonies in honor of the War God which were to be led by his priests. That was the last time such a dance was enacted. It was the final tribute to a god whose days were numbered, because even though later on many of your captains and soldiers were immolated in the god's honor, never again did his priests adore him and pay him homage as they did on that final day.

“The beat of smaller drums, accompanied by flutes, began the priests' dance, as well as that of the people, for we too participated by just standing in one place. The accompanying rhythm of gourds worn by the priests around their ankles and wrists announced their entrance into the courtyard through the portals in the Snake Wall. Led by the High Priest, they slid and slithered in, keeping rhythm with naked feet, with rattles shaking and drums thump-thumping, increasing and intensifying their beat. All of us moved with the throb bing sound of the drums and flutes and the heavy humming that was emitted from the throats of the priests.

“Hummmm! Hummmm! Hummmm! It was a dark, deep voice that came from many breasts, its doleful sound seizing and entangling our spirit so that we swayed and swung as would a serpent's body, becoming more and more transported and enraptured by the divine voice. Hummmm! The sound created music that flowed from throats smeared with holy blood and saturated with peyote and mescal.

“The priests reached the center of the courtyard. They were dressed in black robes, and their ears, torn in tribute to Huitzilipochtli, dripped blood that trickled to their feet. They formed a circle and there they began the dance.

“Their feet stamped; their rattles clamored. Each priest raised a clenched hand which held the sharp obsidian knife of the sacrifice, and with it he slashed at the billows of burning copal incense. They swayed, and we swayed. They hummed, and we hummed. Their eyes rolled back into their heads so that only the white balls shone, and we did the same thing. Their heads were thrust back and their long, blood-coagulated hair grazed the ground. We did likewise. With open mouths and blackened tongues that were stiff and thrust outward, our priests danced, their shoulders tracing a sensuous up and down curve.

“Then the spirit of Huitzilipochtli sprang from the underbelly of the world, hissing and snaking its way through the priests' throats, out through their gaping mouths. They all uttered the words, but only one voice resounded the growling curse of the War God.

“We entered ecstasy as we were transported to the kingdom of the dead. There we swayed and swerved. Bent backward as far as possible, sweating and panting, we sang in tribute to the god who had made us. We descended to the land of the dead, and from there upward to the thirteenth heaven.

“Rattles rattling, drums pounding, voices hissing and humming and chanting, feet sliding on the pavement stones, bodies swaying in rapture; thus did we, the Mexica people, pay final homage to our god of gods in the twilight of his time.”