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Ayala stayed silent, knowing the truth of what Cortés said. She herself had come from one of these Aztec raids from Tlaxcala. She had been much younger at the time, only in her early teens, when her town had been raided, burned to the ground.
She remembered that night. Screams sounded in the dark, and her mother came running into the room, yelling for her to wake, for her to run. She had woken up, groggy and slow-moving. Her mother shook her, screaming at her to run, to stay safe in the woods. Ayala saw her mother’s tearful, scared face and jumped out of bed. Her mother was throwing clothes into a bag, grabbing food from their small kitchen, and shoved it all into her arms.
“Run, baby girl. Don’t let them catch you,” she said, tears running down her face. “Quick, through the back.” Her mother led her through their small little house and pushed her out the back door. The door slammed behind her. Ayala turned around in order to grab her mother’s hand, but she wasn’t there. She heard screams coming from inside the house. Terrible screams, her mother’s pleading and crying. Ayala slowly backed away as she heard her mother sobbing, men grunting and yelling at her in a language she didn’t understand. She heard cloth tearing and could only imagine the worst. She didn’t know what was happening to her mother, but she was scared. Ayala turned and ran away, heading for the woods. She made it into the trees and hid, watching the fires burn down the only home she had ever known.
She fell asleep eventually, and woke up to a man shaking her awake. He wasn’t anyone she knew from home. He was strong and mean-looking. He grabbed her arm and forced her back into the ashes left from her childhood home. There was a line of women, young boys, and young girls being herded away from her home.
She remembered that miserable walk. She was one of the lucky ones to still have a pair of shoes. When they arrived in the city of Tenochtitlan, she was sold to Lord Eiotan’s estate, and had worked the fields ever since.
Ayala mentally shook herself, coming back to the present time and the dinner she was currently attending with her master. She looked lovingly at him and reached for his hand underneath the table, and he took it and squeezed her fingers. With his assurance, she turned her attention back to the conversation.
Cortés met her gaze and narrowed his eyes. He had seen her exchange with Lord Eiotan and jealousy raged across his features.
“We sacrifice in order to honor the gods, and people die in wars every day. The Tlaxcala are an angry people who cannot abide by a single ruler. They are an unruly people. They are upset that they are no longer the strongest people in Mexico. We can offer you so much more, Lord Cortés. We are a strong people, a united people. We are a rich nation. I beg of you, enjoy your time here, and open your mind to the power of the Aztecs,” Moctezuma confidently replied to Cortés.
Ayala observed a look passing over his face, one of disbelief that implied that he was just humoring Moctezuma. The look was gone in an instant and calm complacency replaced it. He ran his hand through his beard.
“I can’t wait to see what you have to offer,” he said, and turned to face Ayala. He met her eyes and held her gaze. “I really can’t wait.”
She quickly looked down at her hands. Thankfully, servants next brought out roasted duck on silver trays, and poured a lovely orange sauce on top of it after it was served. Steamed corn was served on the side. She took a small bite, and enjoyed the treat as it melted in her mouth. Picking up her wineglass, she took a healthy sip, enjoying the sweet red wine as it made its way down her throat. Ayala took another bite and looked around her, watching as the husbands fed their wives, noticing the small conversations that were taking place between men and women, and she caught Cortés watching it all. A sick feeling of danger washed over her.
Moctezuma observed this as well and cleared his throat, raising his glass. The room respectfully quieted, waiting for Moctezuma to speak.
“To Lord Cortés. Might we show him the might and loyalty of the Aztecs.”
The room cheered in response, and Ayala joined in the cheer. All the while, a smug look flashed across Cortés’ face as she watched her people worship him. She could tell that he relished the attention. She didn’t trust him, and this dinner further solidified that notion.
As she raised her glass along with the rest of them, she feigned happiness, but a deep wariness began to grow in her belly the longer she was in this man’s presence. Quiet conversation ensued, as each nobleman told Cortés of his standing in the city, as well as the riches they had amassed and the lands they owned.
Ayala sat quietly, listening to
the various conversations and the quiet chatter around the table, but did not pick up on anything more important from this. She slowly sipped her wine and ate the rest of her dinner, savoring every bite.
Every once in a while, she would catch Cortés watching her as she ate and drank. She didn’t meet his eyes at all, focusing on her dinner and her lord.
Lord Eiotan met her eyes and nodded, clearly approving of her behavior. Dessert—a creamy orange dish in silver bowls—was brought to the table. She picked up a small spoon and took a little taste; orange and cream flavors melted over her tongue.
“Lord Eiotan,” Cortés began. “I hear that you and your lovely wife will be offering me the real tour of the city this evening.” A sinister smile came to his lips as he looked Ayala up and down, finally moving his gaze to meet Lord Eiotan’s eyes.
“That is true, my lord,” Eiotan answered carefully while bringing an arm around Ayala, deliberately making his ownership known. Cortés looked back and forth between them, a dangerous look in his eyes.
“What would you like to see first?” Eiotan continued, treading carefully.
“I think I would first want to see your temples, see if there is any truth to these rumors the Tlaxcala have told me,” Cortés said boldly, bloodlust visible all over his face. Tension around the table seemed at an all-time high. Nervous glances passed between the women, while the men seemed ready to meet any challenge about to come forth. Ayala decided something must be done, and she began to speak, slowly catching the attention of the room.
“Our temples are ones of beauty and Lord Eiotan and I can certainly show you many,” Ayala softly replied. “In regards to the rumors the Tlaxcala have murmured in your ear, sacrifices only occur during times of great need here in our great city, to appease the gods. What they probably didn’t tell you is that this practice of human sacrifice is widespread throughout the region, including their own. They have sacrificed our people as well to appease their own gods. But I digress.” She paused as Cortés directed his full attention at her. “There are no preparations to prepare any sacrifices to the gods on this day. Now is not one of those desperate times, as food and drink are plentiful. So let us give thanks to the gods for this wonderful meal, and look forward to an exciting evening.” Silence reigned over the table in response to her soft voice, and the dangerous look Cortés had in his eyes simmered into something calmer, seemingly satisfied with her answer.
She quickly glanced in Lord Eiotan’s direction, nervous he would be angry that she said something, but she felt as though she had defused something that could have turned into something much worse. He met her eyes with a smile, a sense of pride shining through his gaze.
“It will indeed be a wonderful evening,” Lord Eiotan said, as the table quickly finished their desserts, anxious to be free of this difficult situation. Servants cleared the table and the other nobles eating with them began to excuse themselves for the evening.
Finally, only Ayala, Lord Eiotan, Moctezuma, and Cortés were left at the table. Moctezuma drained what remained in his glass of wine.
“Well, I trust Lord Eiotan to care for you his evening, Lord Cortés. We will meet tomorrow for lunch, and much more wine,” Moctezuma said, while raising his glass to Cortés.
“Hear, hear!” Cortés said gruffly, draining his glass as well. He looked expectantly at Lord Eiotan, who rose from the table.
“Come, Cortés. Let me show you some of the great wonders Tenochtitlan has to offer!”
