four posts with bases packed with mounds of wood.
âI stood watching as the four warriors walked with dignity and without showing fear. When my eyes focused on one of them, I realized that it was Tetla, the man whom I had hated but who was now a hero of the Mexica nation. I admit that I was shocked, and that I tried to feel sympathy, but because I could not, I concentrated on him as he was bound to the stake with ropes. There my eyes remained until his last moment.
âThe peopleâs shouting suddenly ceased, and silence engulfed us. One of the Christian priests, holding a book in his hands, muttered incantations, frequently lifted his right hand to cut the emptiness with the sign of the cross. His voice floated through the air of Tenochtitlan for all of us to hear:
ââDo you reject the Prince of Darkness and accept the Prince of Light? Do you disdain your life of sin and take to your bosom the true God? Do you forsake the infernal realm of Satan and yearn for paradise?â
âThere was no response to the priestâs questions, only silence.
ââDo you reject your idols and embrace the loving kindness of He who is pure mercy? Do you reject your evil ways and solemnly promise to follow the way of virtue? Do you repudiate the fiendish ways of your ancestors and take to your heart the chastising light of the cross?â
âAgain, nothing happened. Not a sound came from the warriors that awaited death. There was silence in the courtyard of Tenochtitlan. Only a cold, tired wind blew from the summits of the volcanoes. The priest looked around him, blinking, showing that he was baffled and that he did not know what to do.
âFor a moment he turned toward the prisoners in a supplicating way. Then his body changed, stiffened, his face grew red, and in a loud voice he shouted, âThen I condemn you and your foul idols to the bowels of hell, and to the eternal flames of Lucifer and his legion of demons, there to be purified and tortured for ages upon ages. Amen!â
ââAmen!â the voices of the Spaniards echoed the word, but their expression sounded thin and uncertain. Then the fire was lighted at each of the menâs feet.
âSeñora, I witnessed such acts of purification when I was a boy, and I need not record such a description. Besides, Holy Mother Church has carefully chronicled these events which are well known to our scholars. It brings nothing new.â
Huitzitzilin ignored Benitoâs words and went on speaking. âThe billows of smoke rose to the height of the Great Temple. The cackle of branches sputtered and soon flames engulfed the bodies of the men. I could not remove my eyes from Tetlaâs body; that body that had abused my own, that had caused me pain and humiliation. I watched his face and, except for the twitching of the muscles around his lips, it was as calm as it had been upon the day of our wedding.
âSweat began to pour from his face and body as the tongues of fire licked first at his ankles and knees and thighs, then at his stomach and chest, then his neck, throat, and face. His hair caught fire and exploded into a mass of flame that danced upward, elongating him, giving him a height he had never possessed. Soon he was wrapped in blue and purple flames. I could no longer distinguish his body from the glare, and so what had been brown flesh was now a snarl of red and gold and black.
âThen Tetla began to dissolve! His flesh became liquid; it dripped unevenly, running off his body in globs. I saw his body quiver, but yet no sound came from his mouth. What had once had been Tetla became smaller, shorter, reduced first to the shortness of a stalk of maize, then to the size of those dwarfs who entertained Moctezuma, then smaller still to the size of a low chair, until there remained only a head that soon became obscured by swirling ash and thick gray smoke.
âTetla was dead, and I am a witness that he never uttered a cry
âI stood watching as the four warriors walked with dignity and without showing fear. When my eyes focused on one of them, I realized that it was Tetla, the man whom I had hated but who was now a hero of the Mexica nation. I admit that I was shocked, and that I tried to feel sympathy, but because I could not, I concentrated on him as he was bound to the stake with ropes. There my eyes remained until his last moment.
âThe peopleâs shouting suddenly ceased, and silence engulfed us. One of the Christian priests, holding a book in his hands, muttered incantations, frequently lifted his right hand to cut the emptiness with the sign of the cross. His voice floated through the air of Tenochtitlan for all of us to hear:
ââDo you reject the Prince of Darkness and accept the Prince of Light? Do you disdain your life of sin and take to your bosom the true God? Do you forsake the infernal realm of Satan and yearn for paradise?â
âThere was no response to the priestâs questions, only silence.
ââDo you reject your idols and embrace the loving kindness of He who is pure mercy? Do you reject your evil ways and solemnly promise to follow the way of virtue? Do you repudiate the fiendish ways of your ancestors and take to your heart the chastising light of the cross?â
âAgain, nothing happened. Not a sound came from the warriors that awaited death. There was silence in the courtyard of Tenochtitlan. Only a cold, tired wind blew from the summits of the volcanoes. The priest looked around him, blinking, showing that he was baffled and that he did not know what to do.
âFor a moment he turned toward the prisoners in a supplicating way. Then his body changed, stiffened, his face grew red, and in a loud voice he shouted, âThen I condemn you and your foul idols to the bowels of hell, and to the eternal flames of Lucifer and his legion of demons, there to be purified and tortured for ages upon ages. Amen!â
ââAmen!â the voices of the Spaniards echoed the word, but their expression sounded thin and uncertain. Then the fire was lighted at each of the menâs feet.
âSeñora, I witnessed such acts of purification when I was a boy, and I need not record such a description. Besides, Holy Mother Church has carefully chronicled these events which are well known to our scholars. It brings nothing new.â
Huitzitzilin ignored Benitoâs words and went on speaking. âThe billows of smoke rose to the height of the Great Temple. The cackle of branches sputtered and soon flames engulfed the bodies of the men. I could not remove my eyes from Tetlaâs body; that body that had abused my own, that had caused me pain and humiliation. I watched his face and, except for the twitching of the muscles around his lips, it was as calm as it had been upon the day of our wedding.
âSweat began to pour from his face and body as the tongues of fire licked first at his ankles and knees and thighs, then at his stomach and chest, then his neck, throat, and face. His hair caught fire and exploded into a mass of flame that danced upward, elongating him, giving him a height he had never possessed. Soon he was wrapped in blue and purple flames. I could no longer distinguish his body from the glare, and so what had been brown flesh was now a snarl of red and gold and black.
âThen Tetla began to dissolve! His flesh became liquid; it dripped unevenly, running off his body in globs. I saw his body quiver, but yet no sound came from his mouth. What had once had been Tetla became smaller, shorter, reduced first to the shortness of a stalk of maize, then to the size of those dwarfs who entertained Moctezuma, then smaller still to the size of a low chair, until there remained only a head that soon became obscured by swirling ash and thick gray smoke.
âTetla was dead, and I am a witness that he never uttered a cry
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