I stood with Extepan and the others on a dais which had been constructed in front of the terminal building. A host of Aztec dignitaries had turned out for the occasion, among them Maxixca, newly returned from Scotland and a model of military smartness in his tan and gold uniform. Richard was resplendent as the Commander of the King’s Guard, while Victoria and I wore black skirts and bodices. It was a sultry day, and I was uncomfortably hot.
The great ship touched down safely and shut down its main engines. The perimeters of the runway were crammed with security vehicles and guards, and there was not another aircraft in the vicinity. Normal flights from the airport had been suspended for the entire afternoon.
The carrier taxied slowly towards us, its wings already dimmed to a matt black in which the conduction channels shone like copper arteries. The sunburst emblem was bold on the nose of the craft, and its flanks gleamed in the hazy sunlight. It came to a halt and its engines died.
There was a mood of tense anticipation on the dais, and everyone was fidgety with the heat. Kenneth Parkhouse and his manicured cabinet looked more nervous than most, but even Extepan was not his usual composed self. Which wasn’t entirely surprising, since Tetzahuitl had a formidable reputation. Unusually for Aztec noblemen, he had never married or fathered any children, instead devoting himself utterly to the furtherance of Aztec power.
A stairway was wheeled out to the carrier, and we descended the dais and lined up at its base. Richard and Extepan were at the head, myself and Victoria next in line, followed by Maxixca, who looked aggrieved that we had taken precedence over him. Of course, that was just my suspicion: he always looked sour to my eyes. The hostility I felt towards him was strengthened by my suspicions regarding Alex’s death. It was perfectly possible that Alex had been captured during the invasion of Scotland, then executed by Maxixca simply to revenge himself on me. It would have been easy for a man of his position to cover up the fact and pretend it had been an accident. Already I saw him as an implacable enemy who would do anything to injure us.
A doorway irised open in the carrier’s flank, and a small avalanche of emerald-uniformed guards poured down the gangway. All were armed. They formed a cordon from the base of the stairs to Extepan.
It was almost an hour before Tetzahuitl emerged, and by then I was nearing the end of my patience. Apparently the delay arose because the cihuacoatl disliked flying and entered a deep meditative state for the duration of any flight and was slow to rouse himself from it. I was more inclined to believe he was playing power games with us.
At length, a figure appeared in the hatchway, standing alone. For a man in his late seventies, Tetzahuitl was remarkably unbowed by age. Though short by European standards, he stood erect and alert. He wore a black cloak trimmed with a silver geometric motif. His iron-grey hair was tied up in elaborate knots adorned with clusters of purple feathers. He looked like an exotic visitor from another world.
For a moment he paused and scanned the horizon, his eyes seeming to drink in everything he saw. As he began to descend, Extepan stepped forward while a guard of honour tossed marigolds and white roses in his path.
Extepan dropped to one knee. Tetzahuitl touched him on the upper arms, raising him up. Extepan then began a formal greeting by saying how greatly they were honoured by the cihuacoatl’s decision to visit, what an auspicious day it was for everyone concerned, how he hoped that Tetzahuitl continued to enjoy the best of health and remained in full command of his inestimable powers. He was certain that the cihuacoatl’s arrival would uplift the hearts of everyone who served him, and he trusted that his stay would be as comfortable, fruitful and enlightening as it would undoubtedly be glorious.
By Aztec standards, it was a brief encomium, and Tetzahuitl replied equally briefly that he continued to be blessed with great reserves of physical and spiritual strength, that it was highly pleasing to be able to visit a son of the tlatoani and even more pleasing that his feet should tread on the sacred ground of England, whose people had contributed much to the march of civilization. He had come with an open heart and mind, eager to see and to learn, thankful that Huehuetecuhtli – another Aztec synonym for God – continued to grant him a respite from death so that he could make such travels in his dotage.
As with all such greetings, it was highly stylized, the words uttered without effort, almost by rote. From an early age, Aztec noblemen were thoroughly schooled in the art of speech-making.
‘Permit me, then,’ Extepan said more informally, ‘to introduce you to the Royal Family of the United Kingdom.’
Tetzahuitl spoke little English, and his introduction to Richard was limited to an exchange of titles and Extepan translating Tetzahuitl’s comment that he was honoured to be greeted by the king of a great nation. Richard bobbed his head and smiled but said nothing in return. He looked embarrassed and out of his depth.
Already Tetzahuitl had turned to me. His eyes were dark and depthless, and they did not waver. He wore a small gold nose plug in his septum and gold circlets in his ears. His prominent nose and arched eyebrows gave him a haughty look. I saw that the silver motif on the hem of his cloak was not abstract but consisted of stylized human skulls.
‘This’, I heard Extepan say, ‘is Her Royal Highness, the Princess Catherine.’
‘Ah, yes.’
Tetzahuitl’s head was tilted back, so that he seemed to be squinting down his nose at me. I had the disorientating feeling that he was towering over me, even though I was three or four inches taller.
‘You speak our language, I’m told,’ he remarked in Nahuatl.
‘Up to a point,’ I replied.
‘You’re a student of our culture.’
‘More so now than ever.’
I saw Extepan glaring at me, warning against saying anything too sharp or challenging.
But Tetzahuitl was unruffled.
‘I shall look forward to talking with you later,’ he informed me.
A brief introduction to Victoria followed, and then he turned to Maxixca, who instantly bowed.
‘We have been heartened by the news of your efforts on our behalf. Your father is proud. You have served us well.’
He was obviously referring to the swiftness with which Maxixca had accomplished the conquest of Scotland; the planting of false information via ALEX had done little to stem the tide, so overwhelming was the superiority of the Aztec forces. Maxixca, almost meek beforehand, immediately straightened, and I could see him making an effort not to show pride. I thought I caught a look between him and Extepan as Tetzahuitl moved on.
I had imagined we would fly back to London after greeting the cihuacoatl, but instead we were ceremoniously taken down to the Underground station, where a special train was waiting.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked Extepan.
‘Kew Gardens,’ he told me. ‘It is at the cihuacoatl’s express request.’
We took dinner in front of the Palm House, seated at a long table draped in white linen, the evening sunlight warm and mellow around us. With their passion for flowers and all things green, the Aztecs had taken care to ensure that Kew Gardens had survived the invasion unscathed, and it was said that a squadron of soldiers had held out there for three weeks because the Aztecs would not countenance an attack. Finally they had been starved out.
Aztec plant technologists had been sent to London after the invasion to join the existing team at Kew, and Tetzahuitl was given a lengthy tour of the research centre, inspecting new varieties of cereals, fruits and, of course, flowers. Aztec advances in plant engineering had turned the northern Mexican deserts into vast grain-growing regions, further strengthening the empire. The cihuacoatl was well known to take a personal interest in all new developments.