Christopher Evans - Aztec Century

To my relief, Richard appeared not to have heard this. He was tapping buttons and making counters leapfrog over one another on the screen.

‘Your sympathies are better reserved for the relatives of those you killed,’ I said bitterly.

I could see Maxixca bridle at this. Extepan nodded gravely.

‘It was most unfortunate. A tragic error. I trust that that was explained to you.’

‘An error that cost the lives of innocent people. If that’s really what it was.’

‘You have my word of honour.’

His English was excellent. He motioned to chairs on either side of the fire. They were Aztec icpallis , made of black mahogany, tall-backed and legless, though lavishly upholstered with a chevroned cloth. I did not move.

‘I regret, too, your father’s passing,’ he said.

‘Really?’

‘He was a good man. I had great respect for him.’

‘Even though you kept him captive in his own country?’

He looked wry. ‘Maxixca told me you would be uncompromising. I can see you have inherited all your father’s strength of character.’

‘Don’t patronize me.’

Now he was distinctly abashed. ‘Forgive me. I realize you have no reason to be amused. But there is room for common courtesy, yes?’

Again he indicated the chairs. Again I did not move. He had striking black eyebrows and greenish eyes ringed by dark brown which gave him a very direct stare.

‘You weren’t brought here to be humiliated,’ he said. ‘I assure you I intend nothing but honour for all your family.’

‘Honour? The same kind of honour that entails destroying a house of helpless civilians?’

‘It was a savage foolishness. I do not expect you to believe me, but I share your outrage.’

He matched my stare. Tap, tap, tap , went Richard at the keyboard.

‘Is there any news of my husband?’ I asked.

‘Ah, yes, the Duke. That I cannot say with any certainty. As you can no doubt imagine, we would prefer to have him safely in our hands, but our search parties have found nothing. I think it is likely he has escaped. That is good news for you, yes?’

‘Very good news.’

‘Perhaps you would like some tea?’

I almost laughed at this non sequitur . Instead, I shook my head.

‘We have many things to talk about,’ Extepan said. ‘But first the matter of your health—’

‘I’m fully recovered,’ I insisted.

‘That is good to hear. We can make arrangements for your family physician to be available, should you wish.’

‘That won’t be necessary. I feel perfectly well.’

‘Good. Then perhaps we can press on with our consultations.’

‘Consultations?’

‘Perhaps you would prefer to combine them with an overfly of the city? I have a shuttle available. I imagine you must be concerned to see how your people are faring and what damage we have caused.’

There was an almost naïve eagerness about him, but his voice also had a mocking note – self-mocking rather than directed at me. He was quite a contrast to the stiff and suspicious Maxixca.

‘The first thing we must discuss,’ Extepan said, ‘is the matter of your father’s funeral.’

I sat with him and Maxixca behind the flight crew, gazing out through the slanting cockpit windows as the craft lifted from the landing pad and flew across the river.

Sarcastically I said, ‘Do you intend it to be a full state occasion?’

‘Of course,’ he replied quite seriously. ‘I assume that you and your family would wish this.’

I searched for a hint of deviousness, of game-playing, in his face, but there appeared to be none.

‘So you intend to make the news public?’

‘It is not something we could hide indefinitely from your people, is it? Nor would I want us to.’

A fan-tailed support craft had appeared to shadow us discreetly on our overfly. Maxixca kept track of it with his eyes.

‘How long have you been governor?’ I asked Extepan.

‘Since April,’ he replied. ‘I replaced my uncle. He was assassinated by one of your countrymen while shopping at Harrods.’

I saw Maxixca stiffen, as though aghast that Extepan should reveal this. Extepan himself was fatalistic. ‘We may have vanquished your armies, but we cannot predict the actions of individuals. It is in the nature of things. But my uncle did not help our cause by treating your people harshly. I hope to enlist their co-operation more.’

From what little information we had been able to glean during our exile, I knew that Nauhyotl had instituted severe repressions on his arrival in the country. But ‘co-operation’ was a word with many interpretations.

We were flying low over Oxford Street. It was as crowded as ever with shoppers. Fast-food lunchers milled about outside the red-and-gold façade of a MexTaco restaurant. The Centre Point cinema complex was advertising the latest Acapulco productions, Otomi Onslaught and Totonac Attack . Everything appeared normal.

‘The next pressing problem’, Extepan said, ‘is, of course, the succession.’

I turned away from the window. Richard sat with Chicomeztli under the supervision of the co-pilot, moving a sightfinder on one of the screens with all the enthusiasm of the uninitiated.

‘Are you proposing to crown Richard king?’

Extepan did not react to my sarcasm. ‘Is there any reason why we should not?’

Richard was making shooting sounds, downing imaginary enemies with great delight.

‘Your country has always had its own monarch. There is no need to depart from tradition, even under the present circumstances.’

‘You can’t possibly expect me to condone it,’ I said.

He frowned. ‘I don’t understand. He is heir to the throne.’

‘Of a country under occupation. He would be a puppet ruler. You are our enemies. We won’t collaborate with you.’

Maxixca made to say something, but Extepan raised a hand. He was as calm as Maxixca was agitated.

‘You know I’m intending to restore your parliament?’ he said.

‘Why? So they can rubber-stamp everything you do? Give you a spurious respectability with our people?’

‘It will have considerable freedom in all sorts of spheres. You must believe me when I say I do not wish your people to suffer unduly—’

‘Then evacuate your armies and leave us in peace.’

Maxixca was unable to restrain himself any longer.

‘We don’t have to negotiate with her!’ he said in Nahuatl. ‘She must accept whatever we decide.’

‘Leave this to me,’ Extepan replied, evenly but with authority.

The sun had broken through the cloud, and below us people were strolling in Hyde Park. Some wore brightly patterned Aztec capes, but most were English. The balcony of the café on the bank of the Serpentine was full.

‘Perhaps we should ask Richard himself,’ Extepan said to me.

‘He’s just a child,’ I replied. ‘He’s not capable of making decisions for himself.’

Richard had suffered oxygen starvation during Mother’s protracted labour; his mental and emotional development would always be limited.

‘That may be so,’ Extepan said, ‘but he deserves to be consulted.’ He motioned to Chicomeztli, who had apparently been listening to everything while appearing not to be. Reluctantly, Richard was persuaded to abandon the joystick.

Chicomeztli led him over to us.

‘That was fun,’ he said to me. ‘When am I going to be king, Kate?’

‘These people want to crown you,’ I said. ‘But you must remember that they invaded our country and imposed their rule. You would be king in name only.’

He looked at Chicomeztli, at Extepan and Maxixca. There was confusion on his face. I was sure he was thinking that if people were kind to him, then they were his friends.