They followed the coastal trade routes back to Cempoala, each night making their camp at a different beach. Tula would catch their dinner while Benicio found water and they would watch the moon rise up over the mystic waters.
Benicio made love to Tula every night beneath the stars. In the morning, when the spray of surf hit their skin and the cries of shore birds filled their ears, he made love to her again. He studied her, like the scholar he was, and learned what she liked and what she loved. He tasted every inch of her, from the tips of her fingers to the bottoms of her feet. He showed her what it meant to be loved and she melted into him and they became one.
* * *
On the last day of their journey, they came upon the beach where they had first met. The tide was out and the cove was clear and tranquil in the morning light. ‘How long can you hold your breath?’ Tula asked Benicio suddenly.
‘Longer than you,’ Benicio chided.
‘Come and try to prove it!’ Tula exclaimed, and dove into the water.
When the sunken ship rose up before him, he could scarcely believe it was real. It was a fine Spanish galleon, fully equipped, and Benicio wondered if this was the legendary ship that the explorer Córdoba had lost in a storm. Or perhaps it was one of Grijalva’s famous vessels. Tula grabbed hold of its loose rigging and floated around its tall mast, and he could see her delighted smile as she danced beneath the waves.
They explored the galleon all morning, then collapsed on to the shore together and stared up at the cloudless sky. ‘It is the greatest fish I ever find,’ Tula explained. ‘I share it with you so I can keep it as my own.’
‘Thank you,’ Benicio, still breathless from the swim. ‘You are such a good swimmer.’
Tula sighed. ‘To swim makes me happy,’ said Tula. ‘What makes you happy?’
You, thought Benicio. You make me happy. He wanted to say it and to tell her he loved her, but the words caught in his throat and the moment passed. ‘The stars,’ he said at last. ‘The stars make me happy.’
‘You mean the gods?’
‘Stars are not gods. They are worlds. Some are made of rock, others of fire, and others of nothing but clouds. They do not go away. Even in the daytime, still they are there. The Maya of Chichen Itza studied them closely.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Do you remember the round building?’
‘Yes.’
‘You were right. It was made to study the stars.’
‘You went inside it, yes?’
‘I did. While you were diving into the cenote, I was discovering an observatory.’
‘What did you do there?’
‘I looked up at the sky and said what was in my heart.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I wish to keep it always there. So I had to give it away.’
‘You are learning,’ said Tula.
* * *
When they reached the outskirts of Cempoala the next morning, Tula was twittering like a bird. ‘You will meet my father,’ she explained excitedly. ‘And my sister, Pulhko. She does not speak, but she listens. Do not be afraid. They will like you.’ When they finally reached the central plaza, she jumped off the horse and broke into a run.
Soon she was standing on the doorstep of her house, taking long, deep breaths. ‘Open the door and go in!’ Benicio called, approaching at a gallop. ‘What are you waiting for?’
But before she could enter, a woman appeared in the doorway. She was tall and dark, with long black hair that she wore in a single braid at her back. When she recognised Tula, she shrieked with delight and the two women fell into each other’s arms.
They stayed that way for many long moments, hardly noticing Benicio dismount Big Deer. He took a breath and walked to the base of the porch, catching the dark-haired woman’s eye.
‘Hello, Benicio,’ she said in perfect Spanish. ‘I am Pulhko. I am Tula’s elder sister.’
Tula stared at her sister in awe and Benicio wasn’t sure if Tula was surprised to hear her sister speak Benicio’s tongue or to hear her speak at all.
‘It is an honour to meet you,’ said Benicio, giving a low bow. When he rose, he saw a man’s familiar round shape inside the doorway, though it was perhaps not quite as round as before.
‘Rogelio?’
‘Benicio, you devil,’ Rogelio said. He walked through the doorway with barely a limp. ‘We were starting to worry.’ He took Benicio in a warm embrace.
‘You look well,’ said Benicio, regarding Rogelio’s slimmer frame and healed leg. ‘But what are you doing here? Why are you not in Vera Cruz with the other men?’
‘I was just...visiting,’ Rogelio said, smiling curiously.
‘You will not like the news I bring,’ Benicio said. ‘We return without a single bit of treasure.’ Benicio gripped the hilt of his dagger, bracing himself for Rogelio’s wrath, but Rogelio only nodded.
‘Is that so?’
‘Are you not enraged, Rogelio?’
‘Not quite.’
‘Are you not going to attempt to stab me?’
Rogelio rubbed the place upon his chin where his beard used to be and gave a playful smirk. ‘It is not necessary.’
‘But the Maya treasure—it is all you have been waiting for. Por Diós, Rogelio, it is all you have ever lived for.’
‘It was,’ admitted Rogelio. ‘I have found something better to live for now.’ He glanced behind him to Pulhko, who was talking excitedly to Tula. Pulhko looked up momentarily and caught Rogelio’s gaze, and there was a smile in her eyes.
‘She has scars like me,’ explained Rogelio, touching the gash across his face, ‘but they are hidden from view.’
Benicio stood in stunned silence, trying to absorb the news.
‘Ah! That reminds me,’ said Rogelio, pulling an envelope from beneath his belt. ‘This arrived on a galleon from Cuba not a week ago. The Overseer of Vera Cruz gave it to me to give to you. It seems that news of our mutiny has not yet arrived.’
Benicio stared at the small, beige missive as if it might bite him. He narrowed his eyes at Rogelio. ‘I assume you have read it already?’
‘No, man,’ said Rogelio, his eyes shifting towards Pulhko again. ‘I fear I may have developed a bit of a conscience since we last met.’
‘I may have had a change of heart myself,’ Benicio said. He plucked the envelope from Rogelio’s hand and in exchange offered his own. ‘Thank you for bringing Xanca and Anan safely to Cempoala.’
‘It was nothing,’ said Rogelio casually. ‘I only had to fight off a few jaguars.’
Benicio laughed. ‘Please, call me Brother.’
Rogelio’s eyes took on a liquid sheen and he began to speak, but the door swung backwards and suddenly Xanca was bounding out of the house in a fit of excited shrieks. She was followed by Anan, who marched right up to Benicio, embraced him, then unleashed a tirade of angry words. ‘He is asking why you took so long to return,’ said Rogelio.
‘You speak Totonac now?’
‘Just a little,’ said Rogelio. He turned to Anan and said some incomprehensible thing.
‘Remind me, I need you to teach me how to say something in Totonac,’ said Benicio.
‘I will teach you whatever I can, Brother. I am at your service.’
‘Then tell me why Anan stares at me with daggers in his eyes.’
‘He says that he and Xanca have waited patiently for your return. Almost two cycles of the moon now.’
‘But why is he so enraged?’ asked Benicio.
‘It is Totonac tradition for an engaged couple to sleep apart. Anan recently announced that he and Xanca have been engaged to be married for a little over a year now,’ said Rogelio, winking.
Benicio burst into laughter, slapping Anan on the back. ‘I am very sorry my friend,’ he said. ‘Your problem shall be remedied soon.’