He sighed and narrowed his eyes as though something had made him sad, although the grin was still there. The resulting expression was as peculiar as anything I seen on any man’s face. ‘Yaotl! Is that any way to speak to the chief minister’s servant?’
‘No, of course you’re right,’ I said in a meek tone. ‘How about this, then? “Try shoving your head up a dog’s arse and barking!” Any better?’
This time the grin slipped. He took a step forward, with his fists balled, and the crowd stirred expectantly. I wondered whether anyone was placing bets and what odds were being offered on me to win. I was not much fitter than Huitzic and unlike him, I never had been much of a warrior.
The audience was to be disappointed. The man took a deep breath and stopped after that first step. He seemed to hesitate, deliberately looking away for a moment before continuing, speaking through gritted teeth: ‘I’m not going to let you provoke me. What’s the point? You and that oafish friend of yours have worse than me to reckon with, don’t you?’ Suddenly he laughed. ‘Maybe I’ll come along and have some fun with whatever’s left of the two of you!’
I noticed a couple of the men standing behind the steward exchanging disapproving glances.
‘What do you mean by that, Huitztic?’ I asked innocently.
‘I mean I’m not the only one who has a grudge against you and Handy, after what happened in Tlacopan!’ He meant the incident where I had humiliated the captain. The Prick had been there as well, and if anything had come off worse than the otomi, adding a severe beating to the humiliation they had both suffered.
We were gathering a growing audience, whose members were becoming more restive. The steward never had had the sense to know when to shut up.
‘Of course, that other poor fool’s even more pathetic than you are, isn’t he? I mean, for a slave like you, mooning over some merchant’s old ugly daughter’s ridiculous enough, but as for Handy...’
I might have tried my strength against his, just for talking about Lily like that, but even as I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists, I knew there would be no need. ‘What about him?’ I hissed.
‘Why, don’t you know? About him and that warrior, Red Macaw?’ He giggled suddenly. ‘You must be the only person here who doesn’t! Why, if it had been me, I’d have...’
I almost regretted it when they threw him in the canal. He hit the water with a deeply satisfying splash, causing the surface to explode, waves and jets flying in all directions as though trying to get away from the wild, frenzied thing thrashing furiously at their centre. All the same, I reflected, as I leaped backwards to avoid being soaked, it might have been good to have heard a little more. It sounded as though he was in on a secret I should have liked to know about.
But then I could not help myself any longer. I started to laugh. Soon the roaring and hooting had spread through the crowd that had gathered rapidly around us.
‘What’s the matter with him?’ someone called out. ‘Why’s he splashing about like that?’
With some difficulty I recovered enough breath between my own bursts of giggling to answer him. ‘He can’t swim!’ I sobbed, remembering what had happened the last time I had seen the steward fall into the water.
‘A man could stand up in that canal!’ cried a small boy.
‘I know! But he hasn’t figured that out yet!’ I gasped as a stitch caught my side. The pain was enough to make me catch my breath and remind me whose servant the man struggling in the water was. As soon as I could speak again I shouted: ‘Huitztic! If they ever fish you out of there, tell your master from me – thanks for looking out for me last night, but if I ever want his protection, I’ll ask!’
With that I turned and walked away, still chuckling at the thought of my old tormentor floundering in the stinking waters of a canal. It was not until I had turned a corner, putting him and the crowd of amused spectators out of sight, that I began to wonder just what my former master’s steward had been doing in Atlixco.
And what did he know about Handy and Red Macaw? Had he somehow learned a secret that not even the parish policeman was privy to?
11
It was getting towards evening by the time I returned to Handy’s house.
I found the courtyard full of members of the commoner’s family. They were close together, as they had to be in the confined space, but they stood, squatted or kneeled in little groups that seemed to have no connection with one another. It looked as though something had pulled them apart: some quarrel, perhaps.
Handy was alone, huddled beside the wall, opposite the sweat bath. He did not look up at me. Spotted Eagle and Snake were talking together in a corner. They both fell silent at my arrival, their eyes tracking me as I searched the courtyard for an empty space to squat in.
Nobody remarked on my absence; nor did anyone express any surprise at my coming back.
Jaguar, Star’s and Goose’s father, stood beside the sweat bath, directly across the courtyard from his son-in-law, and glared silently at him. The old man’s wife kneeled between two of the younger children, whispering to them. It looked as though she was telling them a story. She seemed distracted, though: she kept looking across at her daughter, and fidgeting, as though trying to resist the impulse to get up and go to her. And it was her daughter on whom my eyes rested finally.
Goose appeared to have been weaving, as a backstrap loom lay beside her. However, both the threads and the strap that had gone around her back to support the loom
