‘The child,’ she said, in a low, faltering voice, ‘has obeyed the will of Tezcatlipoca, whose slaves we are. He has returned whence he came, to suckle from the divine milk-tree until it is his time to be born on Earth.’
2
Handy was still on his knees. His wife’s parents spoke to the midwife, his mother-in-law cradling the inert bundle in her arms as though it were not entirely beyond comforting. From behind me I heard Goose’s voice chattering as she tried to usher her nieces and nephews out of the courtyard. I stood rooted to the spot, ignored by everyone, which was probably just as well, as a fierce argument was developing.
Handy was looking up now, squinting into the face of his father-in-law as the old man stood over him, berating him over something. The midwife seemed to be trying to get in between them while the baby’s grandmother stood by, still clutching the child’s body protectively to her breast.
‘I knew it!’ the old man raged. ‘I knew it, as soon as the midwife said he was stuck in the womb! You couldn’t leave her alone, could you? Now look what you’ve done! My daughter, gone, and all because of you, because you couldn’t keep your filthy hands off her, you animal, you stinking, shit-eating dog!’ He spluttered incoherently into silence for as long as it took to draw breath. ‘And the baby as well! I could kill you with my bare hands for this!’ he shrieked, but as his trembling, swollen fingers clawed the air in fury, Gentle Heart interrupted him.
‘You can’t blame him, Ocelotl.’ she protested, while Handy merely groaned.
‘Yes I can!’ shouted the old man, whose name meant ‘Jaguar’. ‘“Stuck in the womb,” you said! Do you think I don’t know what that means? He was forcing himself on her, wasn’t he, like a beast, even after the fourth month, and we all know what that leads to. That’s why the baby wouldn’t come out, isn’t it?’
‘Well, perhaps, but it is not an easy thing we ask, and for a couple who have conceived ten children…’
‘I always found it easy enough!’ the old man thundered.
‘It’s not true,’ my friend said suddenly, in a dull voice, as though he did not much care whether it were true or not. ‘We knew what was proper. We brought nine children into the world, didn’t we? Do you think we didn’t know how to control ourselves?’
Somebody pushed past me and rushed towards the little group in the middle of the courtyard: Goose, carrying a large pot and with a clean blouse and skirt draped over one arm. She strode boldly up to the old man.
‘Father,’ she said, ‘You can’t help Star now, and you’re just going to make yourself ill if you carry on.’
The man’s face was almost black with rage. ‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ he snapped, but before he had got the words out his surviving daughter had already turned away from him. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded.
‘To wash and dress my sister,’ she said, without turning her head, and ducked into the sweat bath. The midwife watched her for a moment and then turned to Handy.
‘The baby?’ she said simply.
For a moment the commoner seemed to have no idea what she was talking about. Then he looked at the little bundle in his mother-in-law’s arms. ‘I don’t know…’ He looked away again quickly.
Star’s mother spoke, for the first time in my hearing. ‘Put him with his mother for now, in the sweat bath,’ she suggested. Hearing her speak, sounding so much as her daughter might have done at such a time – not unkind, but practical – only added to my own sense of what had been lost.
Handy hesitated in response to his mother-in-law’s suggestion, before making a noise that may have been assent. The old woman and the midwife turned towards the sweat bath. Star’s father made as if to follow them, but he seemed to change his mind suddenly – perhaps realising that what they were about was women’s work – and stalked into the interior of the house instead. He did not spare Handy or me a glance.
The bereaved husband got up off his knees slowly, moving like a man about twenty years older than he was. He and I were now alone in the courtyard.
I was acutely aware of this fact because I looked quickly about in the hope of seeing someone else. Measured against his grief and shock, my errand seemed almost too trivial to be worth troubling him with. However, as there was no-one else in sight and no excuse not to, I made myself go on.
‘Er, Handy…’
He looked at me quizzically. ‘What’s that? Oh, it’s you, Yaotl. I thought you’d left the city.’ He did not sound surprised to see me, nor much interested.
‘I had to come back. Look, I’m sorry about Star.’
He shut his eyes for a moment. ‘Do you think she’s gone, like the midwife said? Gone to Heaven, to join the sun?’
‘Of course,’ I said hastily. I wondered whether to go on, to explain that his wife, dying to bring forth a child, had had a flowery death, the same as a warrior on the battlefield or on the sacrificial stone of an enemy’s temple. She would
