‘Do you know something?’ Victoria said. ‘I always wondered, when I knew what he had done, why they kept him alive afterwards. When they no longer had any use for him, I mean. It would have been safer to kill him, wouldn’t it? After all, everyone else assumed he was already dead. But he claimed the Mexica – he always called them that – were honourable people. He knew he was a traitor to his country and couldn’t expect complete freedom. But he had served them well, and they honoured their obligations in turn.’
This sounded credible: the Aztecs set great store by such things. Equally, they reacted with extreme severity against those who failed them.
Tentatively, Victoria asked, ‘How did you find out about us?’
I told her my side of the story, beginning with Bevan’s infiltration of the networks. I spared no thought for whether our conversation was being recorded; I also spared Victoria no details. She showed little reaction when I recounted how I had seduced Alex, though I found it strange to view myself as a femme fatale when I had been his wife and Victoria his mistress.
‘Did you know that our marriage was annulled?’ I asked.
‘Alex told me when I joined him in Quauhnahuac,’ she replied. ‘That was another of the conditions he asked for. He wanted to be sure there was no constitutional bar to you remarrying.’
I laughed at this. ‘More likely he wanted it annulled so that he could marry you.’
She shook her head. ‘You mustn’t think him totally selfish, Kate. He did try to think of you, in his way. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for you to build a new life.’
‘You’ll forgive me if my heart doesn’t swell in gratitude at the thought. Alex was self-centred to the core.’
She didn’t bother to dispute this.
‘Where is he now?’ she asked.
‘They took him away. I don’t know where.’
‘What’s going to become of us, Kate?’
I remembered her asking the same question when we were first captured. Then she was fearful and dependent; now she sounded merely fatalistic.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Maxixca’s always hated me, and I doubt that either Alex or I can expect any mercy if he becomes tlatoani. You might be luckier. You’re just an innocent in all this – relatively speaking.’
‘It would be easier for them if they got rid of us all, at a stroke, wouldn’t it?’
I was tempted to fob her off with reassurances, as I had done so many times in the past. But it was ominous that she had been arrested, since, from the Aztec point of view, she had done nothing to compromise them.
‘Expect the worst,’ I said. ‘Then you won’t be disappointed.’
‘You must hate me.’
‘I thought I did,’ I replied. ‘But it’s too strong a word. I’m disappointed, disillusioned. Part of me will never be able to forgive you. But I think you were more a fool than a real schemer. And you’re still my sister.’
Very slowly, she rose and came tentatively forward. She squatted in front of me, head bowed, a sinner expecting absolution. When I did nothing, she laid her hands gently on my knees.
‘I think I’m prepared for anything now,’ she said. ‘I’m just glad I’m with you at last. Honest, Kate, I’ve always loved you best, despite what I did.’
I reached out and almost absently began stroking her hair. I did it to avoid speaking, as a gesture to the past which carried little of the sisterly affection of old. Declarations of love and affection are always devalued when tendered in the coinage of remorse. Yet her need for me was sincere, I was certain; she had no one else.
‘It’s late,’ I said. ‘We should try to sleep.’
‘Can we be together tonight, Kate? I need someone close.’
‘There’s hardly room.’
‘Please.’
The bunk bed was narrow, but I moved across to give her room. She snuggled up close, head on my breast, an arm draped across my waist. I continued stroking her hair, determined that I wouldn’t allow myself to return to our relationship of old. Yet to all outward appearances, it was just like before.
After a time I remarked, ‘I’ve forgotten to turn off the light.’
Silence; she was already asleep.
Nine
Over the next few days, we talked a great deal, largely because there was nothing else to do. Guards brought us food and drink three times a day, plain fare, but sufficient to keep our stomachs satisfied. We saw no one else. We spoke mostly about that part of the past which was safe from recriminations – our childhood and adolescence, the uncomplicated days before the invasion, before our whole world changed. We spoke of Father, and of Richard, speculating on his future now that we were both in disgrace. I thought it likely he would continue to prosper with Xochinenen at his side: he was popular with everyone, and a Mexican stake in the succession would be guaranteed when his child was born. I had a feeling he would scarcely miss us.
We avoided further mention of Alex, except in passing relation to other things. I asked Victoria about Bevan, hoping that she would know more than I did about his true motivations. She could tell me nothing I didn’t already know. Whatever his true loyalties, Bevan had kept them well hidden from everyone around him.
The more we talked, the more the familiar patterns of old re-established themselves, the simple ease of communication between sisters who had spent most of their lives together. And, of course, there is always great comradeship in adversity. We needed chatter to smother our fears.
On the fourth day, we went without supper, and the following morning we received no breakfast. Neither of us made a great issue of this, though we had doubtless begun to think the same thing: they were going to starve us to death. But late in the afternoon, a guard opened the door briefly to push two plates inside. The door was immediately closed again.
A slow starvation then, I thought as I spooned a mash of sweet potato and green beans into my mouth; perhaps they intend to let us die by degrees.
There was no further food that day, which tended to confirm my worst suspicions. But then, at ten o’clock that night, we heard footsteps approaching outside.
The door opened, and in marched an Aztec officer I had never seen before, accompanied by an escort. He surprised me by saluting.
‘Please come with us,’ he said in perfect English.
It sounded like a request rather than a command, though I didn’t seriously imagine we could refuse him.
He took us down a long corridor. As far as I could see in the gloom, all the other cells were empty, their doors open.
We were ushered into a lift, and carried downwards rather than up. At the bottom, a monorail carriage was waiting. A lighted tunnel carrying the rail stretched off into the distance to vanishing point. I knew we had to be deep underground.
Victoria sat close to me, and her hand found mine. The carriage slid away, rapidly building up speed.
After a ten-minute subterranean journey, we reached another terminus. There were no signs or anything to say where it was. We entered another lift, which took us upward.
We emerged into a narrow carpeted corridor with pale blue walls and a frieze of crocodiles. The officer led us to a door and opened it.
Inside was a well-appointed bathroom.
‘Perhaps you would like to refresh yourselves,’ the officer said.