Meztli- Sacrificial Maiden

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2Something was wrong; no it was everything that was wrong. There was nobody that she could trust. She pulled her llama woollen cloak closer around herself and stumbled on the mountain trail. Yes, there was one person that she trusted but he was nowhere close. That was Zolin but how would he now help? Even if he could find her, would he go against the wishes of the priests and ruling families?

In spite of the reassurances that they were travelling to a beautiful golden temple in the sky and be blessed by eternal happiness, she realised that the girls who had been consigned to the high priests concubine were the winners, not the other way around for at least they would be alive!

"Your pace is slackening, Meztli," Etalpalli, the youngest of their accompanying priests, handed her more coca leaves. "Munch on these and they'll give you strength."

Careful not to touch her hand, he handed the blackened leaves to her. This was usual for the priests never physically touched the three of them, not since the selection day. Five had been chosen for Higher Duties and given better food and clothing than the other girls. Of the five only three, Nahuatl, Cualli and herself had been picked for the journey. For reasons unknown, the other two had failed to reach the standards necessary to make the journey and had been sent to the concubine.

Meztli thanked him but discretely slipped the leaves in a pocket of her overcoat. She wanted to keep a clear head and be prepared for something that may go wrong. It had stopped snowing but the mountain trail was icy and the air made her lightheaded and that was without chewing the coca leaves or swallowing the evil smelling liquid offered to them in lieu of breakfast. Everything was turning out exactly as the old man Tupac had predicted and she was glad that she had swallowed her pride and did what he had suggested. Her limbs ached but she refused to succumb to the temptation of instant stimulation of her body for his words were imbedded in her mind.

As she staggered forward behind the other two girls she thought back to that evening two weeks before when she had met the old man.

*

Except for being taller by a hand width, Meztli had never considered herself different from the other young women in the Temple of Ollantina that sat above the commercial buildings and cottages of Ollantina. Surrounding them were hundreds of agricultural terraces that grew grass and crops. Being night at the moment, the only view outside the window at the end of the long room where the girls from the provinces slept, only flickering oil lanterns showed in the buildings below.

In their dormitory, one oil lamp cast a dim light at the far end of the room and being close to the window, Meztli could see the stars. This was unusual for on most nights, mist or clouds hung around the mountains and hid them. Perhaps this was a sign from the gods that they wanted to send a message to the mere mortals below. She quite enjoyed her new life with fine food, sparkling clothes and no tiresome tasks that were necessary back home. The hostesses, the women who controlled their lives were strict but reasonably fair while the priests would just stare through them as if they didn't exist. She did miss her home village and though she was reluctant to even to admit it to herself, she missed Zolin.

Loud and angry voices from back in the corridor came through the room. It was contemplation time and the girls were banned from speaking until dawn but it was obvious that they had all heard for eyes connected and shoulders shrugged in one of the many gestures they had learned to communicate by when speech was banned.

Meztli froze for she distinctly heard her name being uttered by Matron in a high-pitched voice. This was followed by a low male voice with indistinguishable words but a calm tone. She slipped out of her bed and tiptoed towards the entrance to the dormitory where an animal skin curtain hung down and hid those in the corridor from sight. She stopped and squeezed with her back to the wall and discretely lifted the side of the curtain to peep out.

Matron was there with her back to the curtain as if trying to prevent the man from entering.

"Males are banned from this dormitory and the maidens are f*******n from speaking until sunrise," the woman's angry voice cried.

"Bring her out to the living quarters, Madam. I have come a long way and do not have time for your restrictive rules and procedures."

"The high priest will not allow it."

"Damn the man. He is but a servant to the overlord."

"And you, Sir?"

"I am what I am and answer to no man or woman this side of the overworld. My name is Tupac."

Matron's voice suddenly changed and Meztli noticed a stammer in the sound.

"Tupac?" she gasped. "Philosopher Tupac the foremost elder of the Southern Kingdom?"

"Some call me that but Tupac will suffice."

"Why didn't you say who you were Tupac?" Matron's voice was now gushy. "I shall awaken her at once and even let her speak to such as distinguished visitor as yourself."

Meztli trembled and decided that she had better return to her bed. It was one urgent rush through the semi-darkness and she had only just made it back to her bed and pulled up a blanket when the curtain was yanked aside and Matron appeared behind a powerful lantern.

"Remain in bed everyone," she commanded. "I wish to speak to one alone. The reason is of no importance to anyone else."

Nobody replied for, of course speech was banned but several girls rolled over to follow the woman as she strutted through the dormitory. She halted by the bed where Meztli was pretending to be asleep.

"Get up and dressed in your day clothes, Girl. A high visitor wishes to speak with you out in the lounge. Oh yes, on this occasion you are permitted to speak."

'Why does he wish to speak to me?" Meztli whispered in a tone she hoped would sound sleepy.

"That Girl is for him to tell you. Remember your manners and protocol for he even outranks High Priest Icnoyoti of this temple. Every word Philosopher Tupac utters is to be obeyed without question."

"Yes Matron." Meztli gathered up her clothes that were neatly folded on a shelf above the bed and dressed, while Matron glowered.

In the front lounge only used for important visitors, there were five lanterns burning and light almost as bright as daylight removed all the shadows. A tall elderly man stood beside a table and smiled at her before he turned to Matron. "You will leave the room, Madam. My words are for Meztli and her alone."

Matron glowered but gave a slight head bow and retreated before the man waved Meztli to a wide couch covered in a woven llama wool rug. "Be seated, Meztli. I apologise for the late hour but it is necessary for you to listen to my advice."

"Your advice My Lord?"

"Call me Tupac. Yes, my initial advice is to think for yourself, weigh up all the alternatives you are given and trust the words of but a few."

Meztli listened and tried to remain interested as he rambled on about half-truths, superstitions and falsities in their world.

"It affects you directly, Meztli," he finally said and continued his advice. "On your final journey do not drink anything except water, do not chew coca leaves and eat only corn on a cob or fruit from a tree. Prepared dishes may be hot and tasty but will hinder the brain, do you understand?"

"Sort of."

"When all appears lost, a friend will come for you." Tupac frowned. "My bones are weary and I cannot come myself so will pick a helper."

"To do what, Tupac?"

"Save your life, My Child." His face turned to a frown. "I am but one voice in the face of thousands and can do no more for you. If you are brave and keep your mind free you will survive. Otherwise, your life will be forfeited for no other reason than to perpetuate the falsehoods of this world."

"But..."

The old man held his hand up. "The choice is yours. Believe the preaching of the priests or have faith in yourself, that is all I ask."

He reached out, clasped her shoulders with both hands and pulled her in for a light hug. Afterwards, he stepped back, focused his eyes on her for a second, turned and left the lounge.

*

After another exhausting day on the mountain trail, the three girls were packed into a small animal skin tent to spend the night. Though cold, their body heat and rugs kept them reasonably warm. They awoke and were offered a delicious smelling hot breakfast of corn porridge spiced with herbs. It was the best food offering ever but Meztli remembered Tupac's words. She pretended to eat but lifted the edge of the tent a little, felt around to find snow outside and used her bone spoon to scoop it out. Finally she covered the food with snow and watched the other two girls gulp their breakfast down.

She would have been amused by the girls if the situation wasn't so serious, They became almost hyperactive as they chatted away, placed their overcoats on and seemingly oblivious to the freezing outside temperatures began running around in the snow in a playful snowball fight. Etalpalli and the other priests stood in a line watching and she realised that if she did not react in a similar way they would know she had not eaten the breakfast. Though shivering with cold she joined in the snowball fight while watching how the other two acted. They appeared to stagger and their voices became slurred. She followed suit and when a few moments later the other pair slowed and sat on the snow, she repeated their actions.

"Get them moving, Etalpalli," the high priest said. "The gods will not like it if we are late."

They arrived at a bleak plateau many hours later, Meztli was freezing and embarrassed yet followed the instructions to remove her outer coat and change into a golden gown and headpiece while the priests watched. The gown was thin and not designed for the cold and she could not stop trembling. Would this give her away? The other two appeared immune to the cold as they lay on their backs in the snow surrounded by the seven priests. It was Nahuatl who appeared to recover from her drugged state. She moaned and attempted to sit up only to he hit over the head by Etalpalli. It was a violent strike for blood poured from her head; she screamed and fell forward.

"That was unwise, Etalpalli," the head priest said. "She is damaged and could be rejected by the gods."

The man walked around and probed Meztli with a pole but she kept her eyes looking straight ahead as if she was in a trance and attempted to stop her body from trembling. It must have worked for he moved on and probed Cualli in a similar way, muttered something before the priests moved away. More chants were said before the girls' overcoats were packed in a bag slung over a llama's back and in single file, the priests departed.

Still freezing but too terrified to move, Meztli lay in the snow and stared at a distant peak towering in the distance. Her last thoughts before her eyes grew heavy were that if the gods were angry it should be at Etalpalli for being so cruel.

*

The scene had changed when she awoke for she could not see the distant peak. She was laying the wrong way too and sort of bobbing along with the snow half a body's height below her. She concentrated and tried to remain still for her first thoughts were that one of the priests was carrying her. Someone was doing just that for she realised than fur boots were stepping out below her. Again this was wrong for weren't the priests banned from touching girls like herself?

Perhaps she had passed over into the overworld but what one? There were four, ranging from the highest of the blessed priests and women who died while producing a child, to a world for ordinary ruling families, the third for lesser mortals and the last that offered eternal damnation for those who had offended the gods during their time on the physical world.

She moaned and her heart leaped when a familiar voice echoed through her ears.

"Meztli, it's okay. I'm carrying you to a cave nearby. I have a fire there to warm you. You will survive, Meztli. I know you will survive!" There was a distinct sob in the voice.

"Zolin!" she cried. "Is it really you or is it a cruel hoax from the fourth realm of eternal damnation?"

In reply, she was slipped off the man's shoulders and lowered to the ground. She stood up but though unsteady, managed to stand there. She turned and saw Zolin staring at her. He looked worried for a moment before he broke into a smile and grabbed her in a massive hug. He kissed her cold lips and pulled a coat she realised had been placed around her, closer.

"You're alive," he whispered. "I thought you might not have survived."

"If I'm here, I must be," Meztli whispered. "But how?" Memories flashed into her mind. "It was Tupac who told you where to come wasn't it?"

Zolin nodded and turned her around. He kept an arm across her shoulders and nodded ahead. "See those rocks ahead? There is a small gap through them and on the other side is the cave I spoke of. Once there, you will be warmed by the fire and will be able to have some stew I prepared."

"The others?" she gasped. "There were three of us."

"One's definitely dead and I fear for the other girl, too."

"But don't know?"

"No."

"Then will you go back and see if Cualli is alive?"

"If you wish," Zolin said. "Let's get you into the cave and warm first."

Moments later, she was led inside a small entranceway that opened into a cave that appeared huge and disappeared into darkness. A fire was burning on one side with the smoke disappearing way above. It was warm and the odour of cooking stew made her stomach rumble. Two llamas squatted there munching hay and studying her as if deciding whether she was a friend or enemy.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"One of many caves in the mountains. My llamas are sweet tempered beasts called Nacho and Nelli. Nalco has more white on her neck. Without their help I could never have got to this remote place. I believe this cave was discovered by Tupac many years ago as a secret spot to stay and spy on the sacred sacrificial site where you were left to die."

"But why?"

"Tupac never said why but I believe that he rescued others who like yourself were left as human sacrifices. There is food and wood for the fire here as well as warm blankets and coats."

"The gods never stopped him?"

'I don't think he believes in the gods. For some reason back in his youth he did something that made even the high priests afraid to interfere with him."

"So why didn't he just stop them bringing us here?"

Zolin shrugged. "Perhaps he knew that if he attempted to do too much, the priests would be brave enough to rise against him."

Meztli nodded. "This all fits in. He said that his bones were too old to make another journey up here." She turned and grabbed his hands. "But will you go and see if Cualli is alive?"

"She wasn't moving but could have still been influenced by the drugs. I'll try…"

'Thank you," Meztli whispered. "She is a friend and we've been through a lot together."

She watched as Zolin placed more wood on the fire, warmed his hands for a moment and slipped out the entranceway.

*

With the help of the overcoat, hot stew inside and the fire, Meztli finally began to feel warm. She sat with her mind wondering about her life, why everything had happened but mainly about Zolin. Finally she relaxed and dropped asleep. After an unknown time she jerked awake when she heard a scuffling sound outside. Zolin appeared, walking backwards through the entrance.

"Help me," he puffed. "Your friend is unconscious and in is bad way. She may not live."

Meztli rushed forward and helped pull Cualli inside. The girl looked a ghastly white with blue lips and froth coming out of her mouth. But she was breathing!

After several minutes of having her limbs and face rubbed she stirred, eyes fluttered, she coughed and spat brown liquid from her mouth. Meztli had a small basin of warm water and a cloth so wiped her mouth. "You are okay, Cualli. Zolin brought us into this cave and saved our lives."

With Meztli's help, the girl sat up and stared around, shivering. "I remember nothing after breakfast," she whispered and was suddenly sick into the bowl. After retching several times she wiped her mouth, apologised and stared up at Zolin. "Thank you. Meztli was always talking about you."

Meztli blushed. "Was I?" she whispered.

"All the time." Cualli glanced around. "So Nahuatl never survived?"

"No," Zolin said. "The priest hit her and cracked her head open. I doubt if she would have felt it, though. Both of you were drugged up and possibly even poisoned by the broth you were given for breakfast. It is good that you were ill and got most of the foul stuff out of your system."

"And you?" Cualli turned to Meztli.

"I tipped the breakfast out." She continued on to tell her friend about everything that had happened.

Meanwhile, Zolin removed the bowl and found a clean one to make a meal for the girl who began to look much better.

"I don't know how Zolin managed to save us or how he even got here." Meztli turned to him. "Can you tell us?"

"It began when old Tupac arrived at my house early one morning…" He continued with an explanation of everything that had happened and how he had ended up watching and later rescuing them. "I'm sorry about Nahuatl but could do nothing to help her. I was terrified that they would do the same to both of you. Luckily, none of you moved."

"So what happens now?" Meztli asked.

Zolin smiled slightly. "There are gigantic snow clouds gathering. This is unusual for usually this plateau is dry without rain or snow. I think we are in for a huge storm. The priests will be caught in it well before they reach the safety of the plains below. I'd rather be in here than caught in the open on that trail."

"So the gods are angry with them?" Cualli asked in a quiet voice. "I mean, wouldn't Nahuatl tell them that there were meant to be three of us sacrificed?"

Zolin stared at her but remained serious. "Possibly, possibly not. Tupac would say the gods don't really care about us mere mortals and sacrifices to appease them is something that generations of priests have invented to justify their power over us."

"But what do you believe?" Meztli asked.

"I don't know what to believe but am only thrilled that you both survived. Perhaps sometime in the future, no more human sacrifices will be made for it will not be deemed necessary to answer to the gods above us."

"And if you're wrong?" Cualli asked.

"That's what I asked Tupac."

"And his reply?" Meztli pressed.

"He said that we should not fear the gods for it is humans that deem sacrifices are necessary, not the gods. I believe him and the fact that you're both alive and here with me is my proof. The priests and other humans are our enemy, not the gods." He frowned. "Tupac also said we can never return to our previous homes and must go elsewhere to live out our lives."

"Where?" Meztli felt scared.

"Through the mountains is another land. That is where we need to go.

*