‘Are you proposing to subdue the whole of Scotland?’ I asked.
‘How did you come about your knowledge of Nahuatl?’
Still his tone was light. He was refusing to answer my question by not acknowledging it in the first place.
‘At university,’ I replied. ‘My father suggested it. He used to say that if you know how your enemy speaks, you’ll have a much better idea of how he thinks.’
‘True indeed. English is compulsory in all our schools. Do you know our poet Olintlacochtli?’
‘Of course.’
‘He writes: “The mirror reflects the face, the sword, the heart, the voice, the soul.” I often think it’s just as important to listen to how a thing is said as to the words themselves.’
I was unsure what he was trying to convey to me, but I knew myself well matched.
The meal over, we retired to the drawing room, where port and brandy were served along with silver platters of tzonpelic tamalli, traditional Mexican sweetmeats. At the far end of the room stood the Christmas tree, cut as always from Windsor Great Park and formerly chosen by my father each December. Richard had selected it this year, and would doubtless continue to do so as long as he remained king. The tree was adorned with lights, baubles and presents wrapped in gaily coloured crêpe paper. Among the parcels were a new evening gown for Victoria and my father’s old Bible for Richard, the only presents I was giving to mark the occasion.
I sipped my coffee, watching Richard chat animatedly with Xochinenen, who spoke English only haltingly but seemed amused by his attentions. Victoria sat in a group which included a young nephew of Motecuhzoma’s called Tlacahuepan, who had accompanied Chimalcoyotl from Tenochtitlan and whom I knew from ALEX was joining Extepan’s staff. He was the same age as Victoria, a handsome young man who gesticulated as he spoke to her with the help of an interpreter.
As midnight drew on, the staff brought cloaks for the Aztecs and Extepan approached to ask if I would join them in the grounds of the castle. I was already prepared for a long night, knowing that it was the Mexican custom to spend the hours from midnight to dawn on Christmas morning in the open, under the night sky, before exchanging presents when the sun rose.
Outside a big log fire blazed, highlighting the old Round Tower, built by Henry II over eight hundred years ago in a time when the Normans, the last conquerors of the land, were becoming English. The royal standard had been raised above the tower to indicate that the monarch was in residence. Though I welcomed Extepan’s removal of all the booths and displays which had formerly made the castle a circus for tourists, I thought how improbable the Aztecs, in their feathered ceremonial cloaks, looked in such a setting.
The night was still and chill, stars flickering dimly through a haze of thin cloud. Some of the staff were roasting chestnuts on braziers, and a candy-striped bell-tent had been set up to shelter those who found the cold too arduous. Sparklers were lit and waved in the darkness; Mexican songs were sung, the words of the old philosopher-king Nezahualcoyotl of Texcoco set to Spanish court music, dignified but gloomy songs filled with the evanescence of human life. The songs oppressed me not in themselves but because they symbolized the arrival of the Aztec nation in the heart of England.
Extepan appeared, gingerly holding a palmful of hot chestnuts.
‘These are delicious,’ he remarked to me. ‘You should try one, Catherine.’
He extended his hand. I shook my head. ‘No thank you. I’ve eaten my fill.’
He slipped the chestnuts into the pocket of his tunic. ‘I’m sorry about Scotland. We really have no choice.’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘How long have you known that I could speak Nahuatl?’
‘Your father confirmed it when I asked him.’
‘So you’ve known from the start.’
‘It’s only natural that I would have been fully briefed on all your family before I took up my position here.’
‘But Maxixca wasn’t?’
‘He probably had every opportunity. But he’s a soldier and has little time for such matters.’
‘You didn’t think to mention it to him?’
‘Why should I have done?’
I eyed him. He gave every appearance of perfect innocence.
‘I think you enjoyed the way he compromised himself at dinner,’ I said.
He looked wounded by the suggestion. ‘That’s unfair, Catherine. I wouldn’t wish such shame on anyone.’
‘But there’s no love lost between you, is there?’
We were speaking in English, and he looked puzzled by the colloquialism, so I said, ‘You don’t really like one another, do you?’
Now he shook his head, as if to say I misunderstood the situation completely. ‘We are brothers, bound by family ties and mutual respect. Each of us has a different role to play. Likes or dislikes do not enter into it.’
‘That’s no answer.’
He made an exasperated sound. ‘His behaviour at the banquet – and the general sentiments he expressed – was inexcusable, and I could never condone it. Is that what you wanted me to say? That he acted with dishonour? It’s true. I do not deny it. He’s a hothead who too often speaks before he thinks. But I am certain of his loyalty.’
‘Are you? I had the impression that he disagrees with many of your decisions.’
He smiled then. ‘That will not stop him from doing his duty.’
‘How do you know I haven’t already passed on information about the invasion to interested parties?’
He took a chestnut from his tunic and began to peel it. ‘It would make no difference either way. Maxixca left for the borders immediately after the banquet. The attack will begin within forty-eight hours, and you can be sure that he will be intent on restoring his honour by making it a swift and successful campaign.’
He popped the chestnut in his mouth, turned and walked away.
I wandered around the outskirts of the crowd, aware that two Aztec guards were discreetly shadowing me. Richard sat on a blanket near the fire with Xochinenen and an interpreter. She was reading Richard’s palm. I was tempted to intervene, to stress to Richard that his future could not be read in the folds of his skin. But I stopped myself: I couldn’t shield him from the influence of others, and he would have to learn to use his own judgement.
As the night wore on, the clouds thickened and a drizzle began to fall. Servants emerged from the castle with bowls of hot punch and octli, the fermented juice of the maguey. It was shipped in frozen from Mexico for special occasions; despite their skills, the Aztecs had never succeeded in growing the plant elsewhere.
Slipping away from my guards and everyone else around the fire, I entered the State Apartments. It was several years since I was last at Windsor, and I had a whim to see the Dolls’ House, which had fascinated me as a child.
But there was no opportunity. Victoria was standing at the bottom of the stairs with someone. She seemed to be struggling with him.
It was Tlacahuepan. He held her close. Victoria broke free and rushed to me. She was flushed and dishevelled.
‘What’s going on?’ I demanded.
Tlacahuepan stood expressionless, staring at me.
‘Tell him to go,’ Victoria said, an edge of panic in her voice.
‘What’s going on?’ I said again.
Victoria shook her head, but I had already guessed.
‘Leave us,’ I said to Tlacahuepan in Nahuatl. It was an order, not a request.
For a moment he didn’t move. Then he pulled his tunic straight and marched briskly out.
Tears were running down Victoria’s cheeks.
‘He asked to see the paintings,’ she sobbed. ‘The Rubens and the Stuyvesants. So I brought him here. He was charming at first, perfectly correct. But then, as we came down the stairs… he took hold of me, tried to kiss me… There was no one to help…’