She dived into the depths, letting her confusion propel her. Surely he mocked her. Either that, or he had truly gone mad. She had seen it happen before. After the battles in Tlaxcala, several of the Spanish soldiers had simply stopped fighting. They had unbuckled their armour plates and staggered off into the forest.
And now, Benicio was in essence doing the same. He was abandoning his dream: to return to his land with a horde of treasure to present to his woman. He was forsaking everything he had set out to do.
But she would not let him succeed. She dived ever downwards, angling to a small alcove where the enormous concrete jars had been wedged. She plunged her hand into the wide mouth of the first jar.
There was so much treasure—plenty for the both of them. She could feel the smooth gemstones, the elaborately designed loops and clasps. She trod water as her fingers traced along the outlines of heavy metallic plates and bowls, and into the hollow eyes of dozens of sacred masks.
It was an incredible horde and she wondered for a moment why the Maya priest had told Benicio about this place at all.
It was said that holy men could see into people’s souls. Perhaps the priest had seen the goodness in Benicio’s. And Benicio was a good man, despite all his efforts to convince Tula otherwise. She knew that he loathed killing, and loved the people of the world. He could have abandoned Tula and the Totonac captives that night atop the pyramid, but instead he had risked his life saving them. She suspected he had risked his life trying to save the Maya priest, as well.
Do not forget, the priest had told Benicio, urging him to learn the words. It occurred to Tula that perhaps the priest had not wished for Benicio to steal the golden horde at all, only to remember it.
Tula placed as many necklaces as she could around her neck and as many rings as she could upon her fingers, imagining that such a horde could be used by Benicio to give his woman many beautiful things. She had lied to him and now she needed to redeem herself and fulfil her promise. Besides, she owed him her life, as well as her sister’s. This time, instead of stealing his gold, she was going to gather it for him.
She grabbed the hem of her skirt with her fist, reaching with her free hand further and further downwards into what felt like densely packed metal labrets. It was a cache of kings—enough jewellery to adorn a small village of nobles.
Or many generations of them.
A lump came into her throat and she paused. Suddenly, it was so clear. She was not meant to gather this treasure—not any of it. Not a single necklace or ring or gem. Do not forget, said the priest, but he wasn’t talking about the gold. He was talking about the glory and ruin of Chichen Itza itself.
And in that moment, she felt his hand upon her arm. He pulled her out of the alcove and caught her by the waist, and soon they were thrusting upwards like twin fish, the cool clear water caressing their skin, surrounded in bubbles of their exhaling breaths.
His arm remained firmly around her waist as they burst to the surface. He guided her towards a partially submerged rock just below the cenote’s edge. He lifted her upon its flat surface, then hoisted himself next to her. ‘Tula, I need to tell you something,’ he said, struggling to catch his breath.
‘Benicio, I need to tell you something,’ she said.
But it was as if he had not heard her, for his words came in a flood. ‘Tula, I must tell you that I have had a change of heart that will surely bring me dishonour, for I have made a promise to someone back in Spain that I am unable to keep.’
She stared at him in confusion, for he had spoken many difficult words, one after the other.
He shook his head, then began again. ‘Tula, I am not a good man.’
Tula placed her finger upon Benicio’s lips. ‘Benicio, you are a very good man.’
‘No, Tula, I am not. I have killed so many men. So very many—’
‘It is not your fault. You follow Cortés.’
‘And why? For gold, Tula! For evil, wretched gold. Gold for a woman who I hardly know, a woman who is not content unless she is covered in silks.’
Tula was completely confused. He was speaking so quickly, and she did not understand many of the words he was using. ‘Benicio, I—’
‘Tula, I do not want Luisa. And I do not want the treasure.’
Tula gasped. Had he somehow understood what she had finally understood just moments ago? She nodded in affirmation. ‘And I do not want the treasure,’ she said, though that was not why she had gasped. Could it be true? He did not want Luisa? She could not think clearly, and she knew not what to say. On impulse, she unclasped one of her heavy necklaces and let it fall back into the water. Benicio appeared confused as he watched the golden necklace disappear into the depths. ‘What about your family’s tribute?’ he asked in alarm. ‘This treasure could help you, Tula. You must keep it all.’
Tula sighed and shook her head. ‘What did the priest say to you?’
‘Do not forget,’ said Benicio.
‘Do not forget,’ repeated Tula. She held up her rings. ‘He does not want you to forget this.’
‘The treasure of Chichen Itza?’
‘The...greatness of Chichen Itza.’
‘But how can anybody forget the glory of Chichen Itza? Its temples and palaces still stand. Its past is here for all to see.’
‘But what happened to Chichen Itza?’ Tula urged. ‘I tell you at the lake. Do you remember?’
‘Chichen Itza fell, did it not?’ said Benicio.
‘Yes, but how?’
‘Another kingdom rose to power in its place.’
‘You are a good student,’ said Tula. ‘That is what we must never forget.’
‘That kingdoms come and go?’
Tula nodded. ‘If I take this gold for tribute, it will just make the new rulers more powerful.’
‘But if you do not take it, your family will continue to suffer.’
‘Even if I take it, we will continue to suffer,’ Tula said. ‘The priest was trying to tell you to be wise, Benicio. You and all the Spaniards. Do not become like the Mexica, or the Toltecs before them, or the Teotihuacanos before them, or the Maya before them. Do not take too much.’ Tula switched to the Totonac tongue. ‘Be humble.’
‘My countrymen will never understand that phrase, I fear.’
Tula touched Benicio’s hand. ‘No, but you can.’