Meztli- Sacrificial Maiden

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1It was just after dawn when Zolin awoke to see his mother's almost scared eyes staring at him.

"Get yourself up and dressed," Mama Ohtli hissed. "Not your working clothes but temple ones. An important visitor has arrived and wishes to speak with you."

"Me?" Zolin sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Who is it?"

"Hermit Tupac is here in our humble home and just out the door in our living quarters. He will not say why he is visiting and only said he needed to speak with you."

Throughout the land, he was known as Hermit Tupac; the ruling families called him The Philosopher and to the High Priests he was known as The Cynic for he queried every aspect of life. Rumour had it that he was an emissary of Illapa, the Inca god of lightning or even Inti the sun god. This was ironical for Tupac himself was the only living soul who could openly query whether the gods themselves existed. Anyone else uttering such a blasphemous statement would be condemned to a slow and painful death and eternal damnation for this mortal sin.

His age was unknown but he was at least the fingers of four hands beyond the normal life span of the village women who, in turn outlived the men by at least one-hand years. The old man seldom came to Quichu from his cottage an hour away up a mountain trail but when he did, even the ruling families quivered in anticipation that their innermost secrets would be exposed. Only three moons previously one elder was stripped of his powers and excommunicated from the village when Tupac accused him of ill treating and impregnating his female slaves. The five women and their children were granted freedom of citizenship and ownership of half the man's property at the old man's request.

At least that was what Zolin had been told. He believed it too, for if the ruling families or high priests feared this man, why shouldn't his middle class merchant family feel the same?

Zolin's mother stared at him. "What have you done, Zolin?"

The young man felt his chin quiver. "Me? Nothing! I've done nothing."

"Well it must be something," Mama Ohtli muttered. "But get dressed and out there. Comb your hair, too. I must get back to offer him breakfast."

"No wine, Mama," Zolin warned. "Tupac doesn't drink wine or chew coca leaves."

Ohtli smiled slightly. "Thank you. I had forgotten that but hurry… " She hastily straightened her skirt, knotted her long hair and disappeared out of the room.

*

Zolin had only seen Hermit Tupac in the distance before but instantly recognised the tall thin man who stood beside the table with a beautiful carved bowl in his hand, one that he had never seen before.

"This is a gift for your family, Zolin," Tupac coughed and placed the bowl on the table. "Perhaps not just a gift but a p*****t for services I am about to ask of you."

"Me?" Zolin gasped, "What can a son of a humble merchant's widow do that is so important to you, My Lord?"

"Tupac. Call me that or Hermit Tupac if you prefer but not a title for I do not recognise artificial ranks in our society."

Zolin flushed. "I am sorry… err Tupac," he muttered. "But please take a seat. Mama Ohtli will be honoured if you will have a humble breakfast with our family."

"All my meals are humble, Zolin. I shall welcome breakfast but have already told your mother not to prepare anything beyond the norm for me. Before then, however, I wish to speak about somebody close to you who requires your help." The old man found a cushion and sat down.

Zolin almost gasped 'Me' again in wonderment but instead just nodded and sat on a cushion opposite his visitor and waited. The old man, though just sat and stared at him with round brown eyes beneath shaggy eyebrows that almost met above the bridge of his nose.

"Who is he, Tupac?" Zolin finally asked to break the silence.

"Not he, young man but she. I have come here to speak about Meztli, a dear friend of yours and possible future wife. Before I begin however, I'd like you to tell me of your relationship with her over the last few years."

Zolin blushed for Meztli was special to him and he had hoped to choose her as a wife once his years of military service were over and he won the right of a freeman to take in wives and establish his own household to continue the family business now run by Mama Ohtli since his father had died from bleeding lungs a year before. Meztli came from a neighbour's family and as far back as he could remember, was there as a playmate. Later when he realised that females were different, a new kind of relationship developed and their companionship became something deeper. Perhaps Mama Ohtli was right when she had stated and they had both been touched by Mama Allpa, the fertility goddess. That, however, was before Meztli had gone away.

He told all this to Tupac before the old man held an opened hand up.

"And do you know why Meztli left this village, Zolin?"

"High Priests and soldiers came here and selected five of our maidens for higher duties in the monastery high in the mountains. She didn't want to go but her father was offered a government contract to repair local roads in exchange for her soul. The last I saw of her was three full moons ago. There has been no word from her since. I don't even think her family have heard from her."

"And you grieve for her?"

Zolin glanced at the floor and felt tears rise in his eyes. He forced them away and nodded.

Tupac reached across and squeezed his hand. "Do not be afraid of tears, Zolin," he said. "Men are allowed to cry. It is not a weakness but a blessing to be able to do so. It tells me that I made the correct choice in seeking your help today."

"And what is that help, Tupac?"

Tupac's face turned serious. "She is about to be sacrificed to the gods to appease them so the drought of the last three years will be broken and also to help in their fight against the conquistadors."

"Sacrificed?" Zolin cried. "You mean she will have her throat slashed and be bled to death like the llama's sacrificed at the Winter Solstice?"

"Nothing quite so ruthless. Humans are regarded as the ultimate sacrifice and as such are taken as close to the overworld as possible. There they are left for the gods to gather."

"Meaning?"

"Meztli has spent the last three full moons being prepared. She and the others with her have not been told but they will be led up to a scared plateau high in the mountains and abandoned to their fate."

"But the mountains are snow covered at this time of the year. She will freeze to death."

"'Exactly. The humans to be sacrificed are drugged and left. It is regarded as the ultimate achievement of a human soul and she will transcend into the highest quarter of the overworld for her duty to mankind."

"It's wrong!" Zolin cried out, forgetting to whom he was talking. "She's never had a life. It's not fair!" This time tears did form and ran down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Tupac but why Meztli?"

"She was considered the most beautiful. The lesser maidens from this village were moved to the high priests' concubine to service them."

"You mean to be slave wives and have babies placed within them?"

"Yes. Usually after six years or giving birth to four children they are allowed to return home. You may remember the group that returned last year."

Zolin did. Four thin timid looking women had returned to the village carrying only female babies and youngsters. He had been told that all the male babies were left behind to become future priests themselves.

"Even that is better than being dead," Zolin whispered. "Meztli will never return."

"That is why I am here," the old man said. "You can rescue her but it will change your own life forever. Are you prepared to do that?"

"Of course," Zolin replied. "If there is even a slightest chance of saving Meztli, I will take it. She is part of me and without her I am only half a man."

"Thank you. We have three days to prepare you and another four for the journey you will need to take. Just tell your mother you are taking a journey with me but do not say why. If any word creeps out that you are going against the wishes of the gods you will be killed without any mercy shown. It will be a slow painful death, Zolin for the high priests are somewhat s******c if their will is disobeyed."

"But I can save her?"

"It will be a long arduous journey but I believe you have the fortitude to complete the task and rescue her. When you arrive, look for the dragon's back, peep through its eye and use his mouth as a shelter. Beyond that, I cannot predict what will become of you both. All I know is that you need not fear the gods themselves for it is humans that deem sacrifices are necessary, not the gods."

*

Zolin stared through the falling snow in despair. He had never been in snow before and had not realised how cold it was nor how it all but obliterated the trail ahead. However, by keeping close to the steep hillside on his left and not stepping too far the other way he avoided the deeper snow and could still follow the tiny wooden posts that marked the way. Luckily too, Nacho and Nelli the two llamas that accompanied him, were sure-footed animals that did not seem to be affected by the cold air or snow. Nelli was the pack animal who carried two large saddlebags slung across her back, while Nacho carried him for short distances.

At the moment they were on a steep section and Zolin walked between the two beasts and encouraged them on with kind words. It was the third morning of his journey so he should be three quarters of the way up the mountain. His only thoughts were that if the snow of the previous day slowed him down, it would do the same for the priests who were taking Meztli to the sacred plateau.

"Whoa, Girls," he called and the llamas stopped, shook their bodies and gazed at him with comforting eyes and ears peaked forward as if asking why he called the stop.

"There!" Zolin said and stepped out from the shelter of their bodies into a flurry of snow. It was actually lighter now but the piercing cold was worse. He wrapped his llama wool coat closer and moved ahead to where not one but two knotted strings hung from a post embedded in a cliff face ahead. The top one was made of yellow string while the other was just black.

This was the crucial junction that Tupac had told him not to miss. He had to follow a black quipu, a knotted string used to represent numbers or even send messages. This black one was important but he should ignore any other coloured ones. The topmost knot tied in the black string meant that a left turn was necessary. He was worried though, for the well-formed track curved to the right and there was nothing in the opposite direction. Perhaps the junction was further on and these strings were placed ahead to warn travellers of the junction ahead. He frowned and turned to study the landscape to the left. He could see little as the snow became misty only a few steps away and all he could see was the beginning of what appeared to be a steep drop.

He turned to the llamas. "Well Girls. What do your noses tell us? Is there a track or will we just plunge down a ravine?"

It was Nacho who glanced to the left with her tail up and ears back. She gave a clucking snort and stepped forward. Nelli followed and he had to almost run to keep up. There was a track that dipped down and became so narrow that the animals had to continue in single file with Zolin at the rear. They continued on for several minutes before the track widened slightly and headed uphill again.

"Thanks Nacho," Zolin said and rubbed the llama's neck in appreciation.

As they continued on, the snow stopped falling and the mist lifted slightly to show the snow-covered land around. He could have been alone in a silent world. After climbing a series of stairs they were now on a wide trail with several mountain peaks on the right with the summits surrounded in cloud. It was still freezing, Zolin's feet started to feel numb and he had to be careful not to slip on the icy surface. Later, an almost watery sun appeared and the clouds rolled away from the peaks. The trail was not flat but sloped upwards. The llamas seemed to know where to go so he just plodded on again between them to keep warm.

By the height of the sun, it was close to the middle of the day when he spied a stick jutting out from a rocky outcrop. Hanging from it was another knotted black string. It showed three knots followed by a space then two more knots another gap, one knot and finally eight more knots followed by a couple of twisted strands.

"Three thousand, two hundred and eighteen paces including more stairs," Zolin muttered to himself but was the plateau Tupac had mentioned at the other end? He grimaced. Wherever it was he would be there by mid afternoon so should have plenty of daylight time to study the area.

He stopped the llamas, unpacked some grain to feed them and ate a small meal of cornbread and fruit before continuing on. The sun still shone but a cold breeze came up. Warm mittens kept his hands quite warm and circulation returned to his toes. There was no snow on the ground now, only barren shingle that showed no footprints. This meant he could not tell if Meztli and the priests were ahead or behind him. Without the occasional small post marking the way he would have been utterly demoralised. The sun gradually dropped and a sixth post appeared, but like the other recent ones it had no knotted quipu tied to it.

Ahead were two spiky peaks that reached to the sky. These must be the ones that Tupac called the dragon's teeth that overlooked the sacred plateau. The ground rose again and small pebbles replaced solid rock while in the shady sections of nearby rocks there was still snow. He continued on with the snow becoming more widespread until he was now walking through ankle deep fresh snow that must have recently fallen.

After trudging up a long set of stairs that zigzagged up a steep section, he came to the top and stared ahead. Ahead, were a group of animals and people gathered in a circle. He counted five llamas and eight or more people but they were too far away to be recognised or even tell whether they were men or women. But this must be the priests and girls for who else would be on this lonely plateau?

"I think we found her, Girls," he said.

The sun was behind him so he hoped that if the priests looked back he wouldn't be seen in the sunlight. However, he would still have to be careful. Tupac had warned that he should stay well away from the group for to be caught would be fatal. Once there, he would have time to observe for there would be an evening ceremony that concluded when the sun sank below the western peaks. With the coming twilight the temperature plummeted but the priests should leave at that time. By tradition, they would not return but another group of priests would arrive in a few days to take the frozen corpses into a burial cave and prepare the area for the next sacrifice that would probably be during the winter solstice.

He moved closer for it appeared that those ahead had reached their destination as they had remained in the area where he had first noticed them. But what now? There was the risk being seen so he stopped the llamas and surveyed the area around. The plateau was flat and with no cover for they were too far up the mountain for vegetation or even tussock to grow. It was a bleak land and now that the wind had died away there was an eerie silence with the only movement being that of the group below.

The mysterious words about a dragon that Tupac had uttered had meant little to him at the time but now… Zolin glanced around and almost missed them because of the snow. Almost hidden by the snow was a rocky outcrop that curved around the area below that looked like a dragon crouching down. It appeared that the rocks would be twice a man's height so even the llamas would be hidden. He should be able to get close to the sacrificial site without being seen. However, if he was behind the outcrop, how could he see? But didn't Tupac mention an eye and a mouth?

"Come on Girls, we'll move over behind those rocks and see if we can get closer."

It was even better than he had thought for the land sloped away from the rocks and the snow close to them was not deep. He took one last look at the people in the distance and estimated how far around the semi-circle they would be before leading Nacho by a short rope around the edge of the rocks. Nellie followed and soon the distant group disappeared from view.

The rocks that stood several hands above his head, circled to the right before changing direction back around a corner with the rocks at least half a man's height above his head. Working on his original estimate he stopped after fifty paces and looked around for any place to peep over the top. There was nothing so he moved slowly forward and looked again. After his fourth stop he spied something; a perfect hole about a hand's width in diameter had been cut through the rock. It appeared artificial as if someone had cut it. Furthermore, it was at the exact height for him to look through it from a standing position. He stopped the llamas, moved his eyes in front of the hole and looked inside. Sure enough, he could see right through.

*

There, standing in a semicircle were seven priests dressed in long brown overcoats over their smocks. Before them were three girls who appeared to be roped together and swaying as if under the influence of coca leaves or perhaps even some more potential hallucinatory d**g the priests or farmers were known to use on slave workers or in the concubines. Even as he watched, priests untied the rope between the girls and ripped their coats off. Their long sleeved middle garments were also taken off, as were their llama-skin boots. Beneath, they wore golden clothes made of thin material only used in summer. They even had a strip of bare skin around their waistline. They were also bare armed and footed. The girls each had a headdress placed on their head and long golden capes were gathered around their necks. This was again thin and made of netlike golden threads totally unsuitable for the freezing weather.

While three priests did this to each girl, the other four chanted mumbling words that Zolin couldn't really hear. The three victims were next pulled quite roughly back so they were lying on their backs and had their arms outstretched. The girls moved lethargically but offered no resistance as one knee was raised and the other leg stretched out straight. Finally several golden jars were taken from the packs of three llamas and placed beside each girl. Everything was arranged in an identical way. When one girl appeared to moan and attempted to sit up, a priest stepped forward with a truncheon and clipped her on the base of the head. She jerked once, screamed in a pitiful way, flopped forward and remained still.

Zolin felt ill for he noticed that this girl's head was split open and blood poured out onto the snow. There was no way that she would have survived such a brutal and cowardly attack. If the priest did that to the other two…

He didn't, for apart from their bodies shaking from the freezing condition they remained in the positions in which they were placed. One turned ever so slightly and Zolin's whole body shook in anguish for even with the golden headpiece on he recognised that it was Meztli.

Unless he did something she would freeze to death within minutes, even if the brutal priest didn't hit her on the back of the head.

But what could he do? Tupac's warning that he would be tortured and killed if he was found in this sacred place rang in his mind. However, he didn't care about himself but was determined to save Meztli.

*