Free Song of the Hummingbird by Graciela Limón Page B

captains were just men, things changed.”
    The monk sucked on his lower lip while he wrinkled his forehead. “I see what you mean. Please go on.”
    â€œThe order came from the king telling us to stop the madness, to take hold of ourselves. He commanded each one of us to dress in our best garments and to accompany him to the entrance of the city.”
    â€œDid everyone do as the king commanded?”
    â€œYes. Most of us were part of his court and we did as he ordered. We dressed in our finest clothing so that we could walk behind his litter and impress the enemy by our appearance.”
    â€œAm I correct in saying that you were among those who did not believe the soldiers were gods?”
    â€œYes. I was among those who knew them to be flesh, just as we were.”
    Benito cocked one eyebrow skeptically. “What made you so different, Señora?” There was a note of sarcasm in his voice.
    â€œBecause I never really believed in gods.”
    â€œBut you believe in the one true God now, don’t you?”
    The monk’s words had lost all trace of cynicism and were now colored with doubt.
    â€œIf you say so.”
    When Benito remained silent, Huitzitzilin went on. “One extraordinary thing happened as a result of the fear caused by your people, and that was that old feuds and envies disappeared. Those among us who had been enemies for generations forgot their grudges and joined one another against the invasion.
    â€œFor example, the hostility between the pampered dwarfs and the rancorous eunuchs melted away. They actually came together, speaking to one another. Priests and conjurers alike were struck dumb knowing that gods were at the city entrance. Their usual jabbering and high-pitched squealing melted into a muted stiffness, and we all knew that in their hearts they were the most frightened of all. Where was their power now? Where was their magic? Where was their stiff-necked pride and intolerable arrogance?”
    Father Benito stopped to rub his fingers; they were beginning to cramp again. “I see that you didn’t believe in the sorcerers you called priests, either. I’m glad because I’m sure it was the true God that planted those doubts in your heart.”
    â€œNo, that was not the case. I didn’t believe in them because I had eyes that perceived their wickedness and ears that heard their conniving and trickery. I knew that they were frauds—it’s that simple. But let me go on because I have to tell you that fear struck beyond the priesthood, contaminating even the palace guards, who didn’t know whether to run or stand, protect the king or each other. Soldiers trained in war and combat became like motherless boys when they heard that the white gods were here.
    â€œPalace servants forgot their place. Moctezuma’s tailors scattered and ran about muttering, asking if the king were ever again to dress as he used to. What would they do with the mantles, the loincloths, the headdresses, the sandals, the gems, the feathers, the broaches, the leg wrappings as yet not worn by the king? What would he wear that day? What should he wear when facing gods?
    â€œEven Moctezuma’s cooks ran through chambers and halls wringing their hands. They, too, were in turmoil. Would the king ever again eat as he was accustomed? What would happen to the quail, rabbits, and the other meats preserved and prepared for him? What about his usual guests? What would they be told? What about Moctezuma’s next cup of chocolate?
    â€œNow that I think of those days, I wonder why we wasted our time on such trivialities. But it hit everyone. Gardeners, builders and slaves roamed through squares and kitchens asking if they would ever again be employed, now that our world had come to an end. What type of work, they inquired, would the new masters demand of them? Would they eat off gold plates? asked the kitchen servants. Would they enjoy the beauty of the flowers