Excerpt
Montezuma's Head-dress
The sun wobbled as if it could not make up its mind and for a moment Montezuma held his breath. The quail cowered in their cage. He split their chests and filled a bowl with the tiny hearts. He had prayed all night moving between his rooms and the temple, staring at the lights burning on the other side of the lake where the Spanish were celebrating. He felt surprisingly calm. This was the day he had dreaded and, now that it had come, he was impatient for it to begin. He could already hear his lords massing in the courtyard below, competing for the honour of carrying his litter.
His servants covered his arms and shins with gold. A heavy gold pectoral hung on his chest. His cloak was made of hummingbird feathers, and this morning he wore the great green headdress of Quetzalcoatl with its four hundred and fifty emerald feathers. Someone handed him his posy. Jasmine, such delicate flowers. They reminded him of Jewel. He moved slowly down the long corridors, past the rows of servants, out into a crisp autumn day, just the day for hunting. It was the day of One Wind in the month of Hunting,the day when Quetzalcoatl would appear as a whirlwind. It was the day when the world would end or begin again.