Hunger's Brides (102 page)

I
N THAT TIME
, before the march of days had begun, at that time, before Quetzalcoatl had brought the calendar to men, there in the thirteenth level of heaven did Ometeotl, the Lord and Lady of Duality, lie. Inseparable and indivisible, embracing.

And Lord/Lady Two
¹
was
the heart of heaven.

Beneath the Place of Duality in all directions stretched a lightless ocean, flat and empty, flatness and emptiness in each direction stretching, without light and without air, where no thing moved or trembled or flowered or sang.

Came a time when the heart of heaven embracing grew warm. From the thirteenth to the eleventh level, the first to descend was Itzpapalotl, ObsidianKnifeButterfly mother of the flint blade of sacrifice from which all the things of this world are descended, even the sun. Then into the ninth level of heaven spilled forth both the dark and the precious twin, already twining and coiling, joined at the ankle.

Then were they dragons—hurricane and blackness, Wind and Night. Then were they dragons, darkness and night sun. Through time without beginning over the blank face of the world they roiled and tumbled until Itzpapalotl feared that one or the other would be killed.

And so it was, so it happened, that Tezcatlipoca lost the foot shared with its dragon-twin Quetzalcoatl.
²
Forced to choose, Itzpapalotl favoured the twin more precious—in favour of the precious twin she severed, and the dark twin was freed of the laws that had bound the two. There where its foot should have been, there at the flowering stump sliced clean by the mother of the blade, sprouted the smoking mirror of prophecy.

In that time and at that time and in that lightless sea, SmokingMirror and FeatherSerpent found EarthToad floating, still and wondrous and terrible—at every joint eyes, and jaws slavering blood.

Then were they dragons filling the sky. Even as EarthToad thrashed and roared and trembled the celestial twins came together to raise her up and, twining about her middle, rent and rifted her with a great tearing. Wide, from the sea to the seventh level of heaven they split her, and from
her created the world. From her upper half they formed the sky, from her lower the earth. From her hair the trees and grass and flowers. From her tear-filled eyes the springs and fountains. From her hideous drooling mouth the great rivers. From her shoulders and hips the mountains.

Pouring forth from her body came all the fruits of man. And her blood soaked the earth.

But though they had created the world from her and for her, still did she weep unconsoled. Her cries for blood filled the night, and everywhere was night.

Then did she bring the sky crashing back down upon the earth, crushing all that lay newly made upon it, unleashing the celestial waters to flood the land again.

Again were they dragons, boring four roads to the centre of the earth demon's body, Tezcatlipoca entering her through the mouth, Quetzalcoatl through the hole in her belly; and where they met at the crossroads, where they met at her heart, again did they split her, did they wrench her apart.

To prop up the sky, to protect the earth beneath it, then were FeatherSerpent and SmokingMirror mighty trees, extremely tall, extremely high, very tall and high—Green Willow and the Tree of Mirrors, the pillars of heaven.

FeatherSerpent and SmokingMirror were playful, and they played to the death.

Four times on the sacred ball court on a smoking mountain on the ninth level of the underworld did the twins struggle to create the sun. Four times was it created, four times destroyed.

Came the sun 4 Tiger, the sun of night and earth, weak and pale in the sky. Tezcatlipoca invaded its body and ruled over it for thirteen bundles of time, until FeatherSerpent came to cast SmokingMirror out and into the gleaming night sea.

In that time were all the giants of the earth consumed by jaguars, and the sun and all beneath it destroyed.

Time itself had an end.

Came the sun 4 Wind. For thirteen bundles of time above the sacred ball court rode the sun like a child on the back of the feathered dragon, until SmokingMirror attacked. Then was the sun destroyed, then were
the children of the earth swept away by a great hurricane. Not one survived.

Time itself ended, and the night returned.

Came the sun 4 Rain. And during that time in the swamps and filthy hollows of the earth lived the people, until a terrible rain of fire came from the sky to destroy them. Only the birds survived. Then did time have an end.

And darkness fell.

One last time over the sacred ball court did the dragon twins play together to the death. One last time did they drive the sun through the underworld's narrow portal.

For they were great in adultery.

Came the sun 4 Water. But a great flood swept the people of the earth aside, and those few who survived became frogs. Only the frogs survived, until time itself ended in darkness.

No longer were they dragons, coiling entwined across the night sky. No more did the dragon twins come together over the sacred ball court.

Came the time of the sun 4 Movement, the fifth sun, the last. But though FeatherSerpent called out to her in all the voices of the wind, still SmokingMirror did not come. Some say out of bitter envy or anger, some out of shame or fear. But who can say why? From the beginning no law bound her, not even fate, not even time.

Yet even without her must the fifth sun be born. For it must be the last.

Then did FeatherSerpent summon his kinsmen to gather about him in the city of the gods.
³
First came Ehecatl, the wind, with his shell trumpet, his wind jewels. Then the Lord of the Dawning resplendent. Then came the lesser kinsmen, also with their attendants. Then slowly, with the greatest reluctance, came Xolotl limping in the body of a small dog, reddish and lamed. And behind Xolotl came Nanautzin, the scabby one, covered with reeking sores, horrible to look upon.

Together did they come to stand at the heart of the city beneath the malevolent, blinking, four hundred stars. All around them in the night could they feel her presence, near and far. All around them to the four directions did Quetzalcoatl one last time call, but still she would not come.

And so they asked themselves how they should light the world and warm it.

Against the night they lit a great fire and stoked it with whatever they had brought.

And everything the Lord of the Dawning offered was precious; always the most precious were his offerings. When the scabby one offered maguey thorns anointed with his blood, the Lord of the Dawning offered thorns of red coral. Instead of pellets of hay, he offered pellets of gold; to the flame he offered good copal, not the scabs of stinking sores.

And so when they had burned all they had brought and nothing remained but themselves, rightly did they honour the Lord of the Dawning, rightly did they offer him the honour of lighting the world. Four times did they offer, and the fourth time he accepted.

High as a mountain did the holy fire burn, and it threw a trail of embers across the night sky. Approaching, the Lord of the Dawning felt the heat. Great was the heat and he faltered. Again did he turn to face the fire. Again did he prepare to cast himself into it. And again with the terrible heat of the fire in his face did he turn away. Four times did he try and four times did his courage fail him.

So at last, when the scabby one stepped forward, no one laughed, no one contested the honour. For all were greatly afraid.

Drawing near, closing his eyes against the brightness and heat Nanautzin rushed forward and with a great leap cast himself into the flame. Then did he burn, a great burning. And his skin burned and crackled and hissed like green willow wood, and the sounds of his burning filled the night.

For four days did the sun burn red beneath the horizon. For four days did the blood of the sun stain the sky, and still the heart of the day could not rise from the body of night. Seeing this, understanding this, yet lacking still the courage of Nanautzin, they chose Ehecatl quickly to sacrifice them.

One after another the chests of his kinsmen and their attendants did Ehecatl open, and the sky was filled with blood.

Came a time when only Xolotl remained, yet his heart was not resolute. Swollen with tears were his eyes. He wailed. He clung to life, to the life of his body. He fled into the East, into the eastern swamps and there hid himself in the body of a salamander. And there did Ehecatl find him and seize him. As Ehecatl at last plucked the precious fruit from the
chest of Xolotl, as he lifted the still beating heart to the sky, so did the fifth sun at last break free of the body of night; but weakly did it rise, to hang low over the eastern horizon. Lacking the strength to rise higher the sun wobbled and shook, blood red in the sky. It wavered and swayed but could not rise.

Then out of the East came a great wind roaring, the voice of Ehecatl himself roaring, offering up his breath. For four days raged the hurricane, four days across the face of the sun. And only as the winds grew quiet, as Ehecatl lay spent and quiet as death, only then did the sun 4 Movement rise in the sky, splendid and pure.

And so the sun rose, flanked by the souls of his kinsmen. Then did the sun's rays light the world, shooting like darts into every cave and crevice and hollow. Like an eagle the sun rises shining! fed on the eagle's precious fruit! Hungry in the morning is the ascending eagle. Thirsty is the sun at noon, just before battle is joined. Know that only fed on the precious fruit whose meat is life, whose sap is blood, will the sun 4 Movement gain the strength to break free each day from the body of night.
⁴

Know this.

Yet know also a time will come when even the eagle fruit will not suffice, when four hundred times four hundred hearts no longer suffice, when the fickle one grows weary of this game as she did all the others, when SmokingMirror snatches the fifth sun from the sky.

At that time, in the time of 4 Movement, a great calamity is to come out of the East, when the heart of the earth is wracked by a great quaking, when the jade and turquoise palaces come crashing back to earth, when the smoking mountain bursts into flame, when the noon sky grows black and the four hundred eyes of night prey upon the land, when the march of the days falters, when the vessel of the earth lies shattered.

In the time of 4 Movement the shattered earth will die into timeless night, into night without end. No other time will there be.

In the time, in the year 4 Movement.

C
RAFT
F
AIR
        

I
T WAS
J
ANUARY
1, 1993; time to hang the new calendar. It seemed we had forgotten to have kids. But Madeleine wasn't laughing. Children. Seriously. I might have known. She was a child psychologist. Childless, she was like the horticultural consultant with a brown thumb.

And I did know … right from the beginning. I had been stalling her for almost ten years. To the ticking of clocks I couldn't hear. She would soon be thirty-four. Madeleine and I fought rarely, and with all the attendant awkwardness. Not for us the rebarbative tonics of invective and mutual recrimination; never the Latin meltdown nor the Gauls' blighting derision. Ours was the careful and reasoned recitation not of the wrongs themselves, but of our
experience
of grievance. Not ‘you hurt me' but ‘I felt hurt when … ' Textbook co-therapy.