Tula’s father took Tula’s hand and kissed it. ‘It is the only way,’ he said.
They were standing behind a wall in the Chief’s banquet hall and had been told to keep their voices low. On the other side of the wall, Chief Tlacochcalcatl and many members of the Chief’s council were taking food with Captain Cortés and a selection of his men—the Totonacs’ new allies.
‘But I am made to hunt and to fight, not to lie in a stranger’s bed,’ Tula whispered, still believing she might convince her father to let her go. ‘There are other ways to save Xanca,’ she reasoned. ‘Why do we not try to rescue her ourselves?’
Tula felt as if she were stuck in the bottom of a cenote once again. This time, there was no way out.
‘Every Chief, former Chief and Council Elder was asked to contribute, without exception. You and these seven other women represent the best we have to give.’
‘But you are my father! Why do you ask this of me?’ It was an unfair question. Tula knew that her father did not have a choice. Still, tears of bitterness streamed down her face. After so many years of resisting her father’s urgings to find a mate, she had finally got her wish. Now Tula would never be anyone’s wife, for she was about to become a very particular kind of slave.
‘Try to obey him,’ her father choked. He had not raised Tula to serve any master, yet he was sending her to live with a man who would likely treat her like a servant. ‘These bearded men are our partners now. With their help, we shall finally rise from beneath the heel of the Mexica.’
‘I will do my duty,’ Tula whispered, ‘but only until I reach Tenochtitlan. Then I will rescue Xanca and bring her home, or die trying.’
Tula looked around the crowded anteroom. Dozens of high-born mothers and fathers were speaking to their daughters in hushed voices, saying much the same things. Over the past few weeks, the Totonacs had forged an alliance with the bearded strangers—Spaniards, they called themselves. The Totonacs had given the Spaniards slaves and food and even land north of the city. In exchange, their leader, Captain Cortés, had agreed to join forces with the Totonacs to recapture their sons and daughters, and be free of the Mexica Takers for good.
It was a risk, but it was the Totonacs’ only hope. They would give the Spaniards everything they could to help them overcome the Mexica, including hundreds of porters to aid in their trek to Tenochtitlan and an army of Totonac warriors that had been training in secret.
In addition, the Council Elders had resolved to give the bearded strangers their remaining high-born daughters.
Tula overheard the chief of a nearby village talking to his daughter urgently. ‘You must attempt to get with child. It is the only way the alliance will stay strong,’ he explained to her. The young woman’s lip trembled as she stared at the ground, nodding.
Tula’s own father knew better than to give her such advice. ‘Keep your ears and eyes open in the floating city,’ he said. ‘Trust nobody. You will be glad for your knowledge of Nahuatl now.’ Then he bent and whispered in her ear. ‘I do not care how you accomplish it. Just bring Xanca back.’
One of the Elders clapped his hands together softly. ‘It is time,’ he said. ‘Say your goodbyes.’ There was a collective gasp as the young women fell into their loved ones’ arms. ‘Please order yourselves as instructed, beginning with red,’ he commanded. ‘Quickly now.’
Earlier that morning, the young women had been bathed in flower water and given their costumes, traditional long skirts and undershirts overlain by the fashionable triangular shawl worn throughout the land.
Each costume was a single, bold colour, one of the seven colours of the rainbow, and the Elders had distributed them based on which colour would look best on which young woman. The eighth costume was white and had been chosen for Tula. ‘My dear, you are so radiant that you do not require any colour,’ an Elder had whispered to her.
It was the first time in her life that Tula had ever been told such a thing. Flattery was discouraged in the Totonac world, for it served to distinguish people based on the unimportant standard of physical beauty. Still, his words filled Tula with gratitude, for she had worried that her new Spanish master might find her disagreeable and punish her for it.
Tula had stared into an obsidian mirror and puzzled over her face, which had always seemed plain to her when she saw it reflected so. Today it was unrecognizable. On the advice of the translator Malinali, Tula and the other young women had been painted to look like children’s dolls. Tula’s eyes had been lined with charcoal and then powdered white to match her dress. Her lips shone with a thick pollen dye the colour of a ripe tomato.
‘It is how the bearded men prefer their women,’ Malinali had explained and she had instructed all the women to remove their labrets.
Tula thought of Xanca and tried to stay strong. Still, she feared these hulking men from across the sea. Their Chief said that they came in peace, but they carried long swords and animals of war and strange iron ovens that belched fire. They numbered only a few hundred men, yet they swaggered about Cempoala as if the great city already belonged to them. If they did defeat the Mexica, Tula wondered, what then? Would they not simply become the Totonacs’ new Tribute Takers?
Tula took a deep breath. All that mattered now was her sister. If she did not save Xanca, Pulhko would never recover, nor would her father. The alliance with the Spaniards was the only hope the Totonacs had to enter Tenochtitlan. Tula kissed her father and whispered in his ear, ‘I will bring her back. I promise.’ Then she placed herself at the end of the line and the eight young women were escorted through the door and towards their uncertain fates.