Tokens of Love

By 

Terry Wright  

Gray clouds rolled across the sky and thunder rumbled toward the horizons. Izcoatl, the High Priest of Tenochtitlan, stood atop the stone temple pyramid, his face into the wind. “Oh, Tlaloc, god of fertility, find favor with this sacrifice.”

  Lecia shivered, clutching the blanket around her nude body. Sacrifice? She hadn’t heard that word before, not in the nine years of her life.

  Two hooded priests in dark green robes pressed close to her sides. Izcoatl loomed before her, his long black robe adorned with bones, ears, and unspeakable body parts that stunk of decay. Bloody, tangled black hair whipped in the wind as his eyes scanned the sky.

  She thought of her father’s eyes now, glazed and staring the last time she saw him, an arrow in his heart: an Aztec arrow with red feathers. He was a great chief in the city of corn until the warriors came. They left the ground littered with bodies and moaning wounded. Clinging to her father’s limp arm, she sobbed. The warriors pried her loose and brought her to this horrible place.

Lightning broke the sky into jagged shards and disappeared.

The multitude, gathered in the courtyard below, fell to their knees, arms raised up to the tempest, chanting, “Ungala. Ungala Gee.”

With upheld palms the High Priest bellowed, “Tlaloc! Hear me!”

Thunder cracked.

Izcoatl turned and pointed to Lecia. “Prepare her.”

The priests forced her toward an alter in front of a gray stone god with big ears, fat lips, and round hollow eyes. She stiffened. Tlaloc? An ivory-handled knife lay in his upturned palms.

The chanting became louder. “Ungala. Ungala Gee.”

A beautiful maiden appeared beside the stone god. Her white dress flowed in the wind as she approached. In her outstretched hands she offered a steaming golden cup. “Drink.”

Looking into the liquid, Lecia’s terrified reflection wavered back. “What is it?”  

“Food of the gods,” the maiden replied. “Chocolate.”

         A familiar aroma rose to Lecia’s nostrils in the steamy mist. She put the cup to her lips and drank, expecting the bitter tang of xocolatl, a drink her father used to make. But cocoa, sweetened with wild bee honey and vanilla, caressed her tongue instead. Pleased, she drank it all down and returned the cup to the maiden. “Why am I given this wonderful drink?”

         “Tlaloc offers it with love,” she said. “Before he takes your heart.”

         “My heart?”

“Yes. Izcoatl will cut your heart out and set it in Tlaloc’s open palms, still beating. The daughter of our enemy will give him much power.” She smiled and stepped back. “No greater love can one receive.”

“Love?” Lecia put her hand over her pounding heart.

 The wind howled. Lightning lit the sky and thunder boomed. The priests yanked the blanket from her body and grabbed her arms. Izcoatl stepped forward with the knife.

Lecia gasped. Hearts and chocolate given as tokens of love? Why would anyone do such a thing?

“Ungala. Ungala Gee.”