Cuathli examined his escort up. Twelve chosen, fully armed warriors. He thought it could be too much, however, he had a foreboding that they would be useful.
They walked at the same pace. Tlacotzin led them with his head lowered. He seemed to be ashamed of where he lived. Finally, they reached the outskirts and stopped in front of a brick house.
"Is that where you live?"
Tlacotzin shook his head and pointed to a spot next to the house – a structure that, generously, could be called a hut stood there. If you wanted to be honest, it was a lousy shed. Very lousy.
Tlacotzin moved forward with his head lowered. Cuathli followed him. He left the warriors behind. He didn't want to disturb the locals more than was necessary. As he left, he heard the warriors:
"It's not a house; it's a hovel."
"I think it's worse than a hovel."
"My father wouldn't even keep turkeys in something like that."
When they got inside, Cuathli stood in the corner of the hut and waited for Tlacotzin to pack. While waiting, he looked around.
In one of the corners there was a simple fireplace; next to it stood a few clay pots and a corn quern. Plus, a small supply of brushwood and food. Further in, there was a sleeping mat with a patched blanket. In the corner stood a shield and a mace. He saw cobwebs on them, which meant they had not been used for a long time. Next to them, a spare maxtlatl hung. And there was a small table. Actually, it's a long rough stone that no stonemason would look at. It was placed on a few smaller stones so it wouldn't lie on the floor.
The walls and roof were thin. He wondered what... the conditions inside it were during the rainy season.
"Is this your parents' house?"
He couldn't believe he'd asked that question. He had no idea what made him say that. But, for some reason, this place made him angry and disgusted. It wasn't normal.
"My parents' house burnt down after my mother died. Only a few items survived: a mace, a maxtlatl, a shield, a flute and an amulet I inherited from my mother. Which were things I had on myself."
Cuathli was even more saddened.
"It must have been really hard for you."
The boy just sniffed and went to the table. At that moment, he made an expression full of dismay. He began to search the table and the surrounding area.
"My mother's amulet... is gone!"
At that moment, Cuathli's heart was filled with shock and fear, too.
"What does it look like? What is it made of?"
"It's a large jade. An orchid was carved on it, and it has a few jade beads on the strap. It was my father's engagement gift for my mother."
Cuathli started to ponder.
Jade symbolised wisdom, protection, and a connection with ancestors. An orchid was one of symbols of Xochipilli. Jade beads – the cycle of life and the food chain.
Cuathli thought for a bit. The spiritual power of the amulet must have been great. But more important was what it meant to the young musician. It was his inheritance, full of memories of his lost family.
The problem was that the amulet also had great material value. Jade was valuable. Cuathli clenched his fist at the thought that someone might have stolen it. He wondered who dared to do such a thing. It wasn't just a theft but a sacrilege.
At that moment, he heard a voice that, for some incomprehensible reason, made him feel offended.
"Hey, busker!"
"He's the owner."
Cuathli frowned. He didn't like the use of that word in reference to someone who played music – Xochipilli's domain. Especially that the flautist had talent. He was already upset by the disappearance of the amulet, and now this. He bit his tongue to avoid saying something improper for his position as high priest.
A young man in his early twenties entered the hut.
"Texoc! My mother's amulet is gone!"
The man looked at Tlacotzin with disdain. His eyes were full of ill will, and his mouth was twisted in an unpleasant smile.
"It's not gone. I sold it."
"What?! Why?!"
Cuathli was as shocked as Tlacotzin, but before he could say anything…
"Your rent."
"Rent? I paid it."
Suddenly, the man grabbed Tlacotzin by his throat.
"The price went up. That lousy trinket of yours wasn't enough to cover the rent. I have to pay the rest. I don't care how you'll get the money. And if you don't, I'll break your shitty pipe and throw you out."
He was crushing Tlacotzin's throat as if he were making tamales. The young man could only cry helplessly while his tormentor smiled. But there was someone else in the room. He was standing still in the darkened corner of the hut, but his anger was reaching its peak. Every word was igniting him. When he spoke, his words were as sharp as an obsidian knife:
"Let him go, now."
The man threw the boy so that he hit the opposite wall.
"What, you've become a whore? Is this your client?"
Cuathli trembled when he heard this. He had never felt so insulted. Even on the battlefield, when the enemy tried to provoke him to let his guard down.
"Tell me where Tlacotzin's amulet is, and I'll forget what I've just heard."
He was angry, on the verge of exploding, but he was ready to calm his anger if that would help Tlacotzin get his amulet back.
"Maybe you'd prefer his ass? Five grains, and you've got him till evening."
Cuathli's hand began to tremble. He felt his blood rushing in his veins. If he hadn't known it was impossible, he would have sworn his eye colour had turned into a demonic green.
"You don't want it, then get out!"
"Don't you see who I am?"
"A guy who's about to get hit!"
The man swung at him. He probably thought he was extremely fast, but he was extremely slow for Cuathli. In his eyes, a snail moved faster. He easily grabbed his hand and pushed it away from him, sending him to the opposite wall.
"You…"
The man was angry. He looked to the side and grabbed Tlacotzin's club.
A vein throbbed in the high priest's forehead. He concentrated all the anger that he had experienced here in his fist. the condition of this place, the disdain, the theft, the sacrilege, the insult — and now he dared to grab Tlacotzin's weapon. The weapon that he probably used at the telpochcalli, that could even be a memento of his late father, and he dared to touch it with his filthy hands. Now he wanted to attack him. There was no longer any reason to hold back.
Before he could lift the club to strike, Cuathli charged at him. One angry blow threw the sinner away with such force that he flew out, breaking through the wall. When he landed on the ground, he could only shake.
"Guards! Arrest him!"
The guards immediately surrounded the fallen man, and two of them lifted him. Cuathli went out through the hole.
"How dare you raise your hand against the high priest."
It was only when he stood in the light that the fool realized who he was dealing with.
"The great servant of the gods, this is a misunderstanding."
Then he pointed to Tlacotzin.
"It's all his fault. He's behind with rent, and this morning he broke the fence and refused to pay."
Cuathli looked at him with cold eyes.
"Do you speak truth?"
"The truest truth, the great servant of the gods. I swear on Xochipilli."
Both of the priest's hands clenched into fists. His face turned red. It was no longer just a lie — it was perjury and blasphemy.
"Tlacotzin was at my estate since late night. Lies have no legs."
The man looked like he was about to defecate in his maxtlatl, but before anyone could do anything, a voice came from the house:
"Texoc, what's going on?"
Cuathli thought his name suited the man. Perfect for a person who so openly despises others. A young woman came out of the house, she looked confused by what she was seeing. From the hut came Tlacotzin and looked at the girl dumbfounded.
"Yohualli, what are you doing here?"
She looked at Tlacotzin, then at the man surrounded by the guards, and then at the priest. Fear began to appear on her face.
"Run!"
Texoc shouted to her. The woman turned around and started running away. But she didn't run far. Cuathli grabbed a spear from one of the guards and threw it towards the fleeing woman. He hit where he aimed - between her legs. She fell, and the guards caught her easily. They dragged her next to the arrested man.
"Tlacotzin. Who is this woman?"
"It's Yohualli. She's the one who rejected me."
"If you weren't making advances on my…"
Texoc started to scream, but was stopped by a blade put to his throat. Cuathli looked at the two of them with disdain and disgust. Then he pointed to the two warriors.
"You and you. Help Tlacotzin pack up, there won't much, then take him to the residence."
The designated men bowed and walked to the young man. Cuathli's thoughts consisted of only one word... why. Why did Tlacotzin have to suffer so much when he didn't deserve to? It was not fair. He felt his anger was replaced by sadness. The loss of his parents, unrewarded efforts, the loss of his home, the heartbreak, and now this... the loss of perhaps the most precious thing both spiritually and materially left to him. What was the purpose of suffering so unjustly?
He turned to those who deserved such suffering.
"Take them to Tlayohulla. They'll confess everything."
Both prisoners trembled with fear at that one word.