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.