The City of Palaces: A Novel

Chapter 8

123 o 8 The child sat in the mir­ a­ dor pet­ ting a small black cat in his lap as he re­ cov­ ered from his ex­ er­ tions. He had dug a deep hole in the pal­ ace gar­ den, show­ er­ ing ­ flower beds with dirt and up­ root­ ing a rose bush­ planted by his ­ great-grandmother. The boy was short and slim and­ dressed in the blue ­ cadet’s uni­ form of an ex­ clu­ sive Jes­ uit ­ school. From his stat­ ure, it was clear that he was eight or nine, and yet he ­ seemed not so much a child as an adult in mini­ ature. His uni­ form, with its brass but­ tons and mar­ tial cut, broad ­ across the chest and shoul­ ders, nar­ row at the waist, im­ posed upon his boy­ ish form a ­ soldier’s sil­ houette. More­ over, his head was large for his body, and his face re­ vealed the fully­ formed fea­ tures of a man, only far more del­ i­ cate. From his broad, clear brow, his face nar­ rowed to a firm, round chin cleft with a shal­ low dim­ ple that deep­ ened ir­ re­ sis­ tibly when he ­ laughed. His com­ plex­ ion was si­ mul­ ta­ ne­ ously pale and dark, like a gar­ de­ nia in the moon­ light, ­ framed by the inky black­ ness of his tum­ bled hair. His skin was flaw­ less, as if it had been cut from a bolt of the fin­ est silk ever spun. His eyes were an in­ can­ des­ cent green, like a clus­ ter of ­ leaves with the sun­ light shin­ ing ­ through them, and his eye­ lashes were so long and thick that his eyes ap­ peared to be ­ ringed with kohl. To his grand­ mother, who was ob­ serv­ ing him from the gar­ den gate, he was as beau­ ti­ ful as a child in a fable. She could never look at him with­ out think­ ing he was not quite en­ tirely human but was like a ­ sprite, an ­ elf-child, with his other­ worldly ­ beauty and his mys­ ter­ i­ ous­ self-possession. She en­ tered the gar­ den tap­ ping her cane ­ loudly ­ against the walk­ way— the cane was an af­ fec­ ta­ tion, for she liked to ap­ pear ­ frailer than she was— and ap­ proached him in a rus­ tle of pet­ ti­ coats and black silk. The lit­ tle 124 The Apostle of Freedom cat, watch­ ing her prog­ ress with alarm, leapt from the boy’s arms and ran into the ­ bushes. “Hello, Abue­ lita,” the child said, ris­ ing and dust­ ing the dirt from his uni­ form. None of her other grand­ chil­ dren would have dared ad­ dress her as “granny.” But José she al­ lowed lib­ er­ ties she had al­ lowed no other human be­ cause from the mo­ ment he had first gazed at her with his ­ leaf-green eyes he had be­ come the great love of her old age. “José,” she re­ plied, “why are you de­ stroy­ ing my gar­ den?” “Chepa told me there is an Aztec te­ o­ calli be­ neath our house, and in­ side there is a treas­ ure room ­ filled with gold the Aztec ­ priests hid from the con­ quis­ ta­ dores.” The old woman sat down. “If the cook spent more time cook­ ing and less time fill­ ing your head with In­ dian super­ sti­ tions, her meals might ac­ tu­ ally be ed­ ible.” “They are not super­ sti­ tions, Abue­ lita,” he re­ plied with a ­ child’s in­ no­ cent ad­ a­ mancy. “In the na­ tional mu­ seum I saw ­ stones from ­ Tenoch­ titlán they found in the ­ ground be­ neath the ca­ the­ dral. Why ­ couldn’t there be a tem­ ple here, too?” “And what would you do with this Aztec gold?” “I would give it to you,” he said. She pat­ ted his hand. “You are a gen­ er­ ous, fool­ ish child. Come with me.” She led him to the back wall of the mir­ a­ dor, where she used her cane to in­ di­ cate the foun­ da­ tion. Un­ like the mar­ ble from which the­ gazebo’s vis­ ible parts were con­ structed, the foun­ da­ tion stone was tez­ on­ tle, the vol­ canic rock from which ­ Tenochtitlán had...