Song of the Hummingbird Read Online Free

so he put his hand on her shoulder and pressed it softly.
    â€œYou don’t mean that the king was a priest, do you? Perhaps he was a magician or something similar because, be assured, he could not have been a priest.”
    â€œHe was a priest! And, as you say in your own mass, a priest is a priest forever.”
    Father Benito sighed, and kept quiet only because he wanted to hear more.
    â€œMoctezuma stood by the High Priest and together they began the prayer to our gods. Both men raised their arms in reverence, the fingers of their hands taut and crisped so that in the gloom of that night of nights, they appeared like the claws of black-plumed birds carved in stone.”
    Huitzitzilin turned to face Father Benito. “Do you want to hear their prayer, young priest? Or will you be chastised by those above you for listening to me?”
    He hadn’t realized that she knew so much about his way of life and his congregation, one which strictly forbade even a reference to the practices the Church was trying to eradicate. But Father Benito wanted to know, and he shifted in the chair as he felt a new surge of curiosity overcome him. He nervously looked over his shoulder as if to assure himself that no one was overhearing what the old woman was about to say.
    â€œYes. I want to hear.” His voice was barely a whisper.
    â€œMoctezuma and the High Priest chanted together like this. ‘O lord of the feathered left hand! O lord sorcerer bird. . .’”
    â€œStop! Stop!” Father Benito suddenly regretted having allowed the woman to repeat the satanic stanzas in his presence. “Please don’t say any more! You should try to forget those unholy words.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause they conjure the devil himself out of his pit. Don’t you see? You have ears, don’t you? You heard that the prayer calls upon the lord of sorcery; that is Satan himself!”
    â€œPerhaps.”
    The priest thought that he heard her giggle softly, and he felt embarrassed. Maybe, he thought, he had been exaggerated in his response to the incantation which might have been a brief introduction to more interesting details. He tried another approach.
    â€œSeñora, why don’t you tell me about what happened that night? You can, of course, omit the prayers.”
    Huitzitzilin smiled. “Yes, I can tell you much about that night. Remember that it was the most important in our history because, as it now turns out, it was the end of our fifth sun.
    â€œLet me tell you of what the High Priest did. He began with an incantation—I won’t repeat the words— with a voice that seemed to boom from the bottom of the giant drum. His chanting called upon gods of whom I had never before heard. He shook the sacred rattle with his right hand and slashed at the black night air with the obsidian knife which he grasped in his left hand. The raven-colored garments that covered his body fluttered as he gyrated round and round. Then he began, sinuously, like a snake, to undulate up and down as if coupling with a woman. He did this over and again as his waistlong hair, tangled and encrusted with the blood of immolation, flapped in the wind.”
    When Huitzitzilin paused, she looked over to Father Benito, who sat stiffly with his face buried in his hands. He was hunched over and said nothing for a long time, but she knew that he had heard her words and that he was in turmoil.
    â€œI will tell you no more about this because I see that you are distressed at the mention of copulation and blood. Are these, however, not the ways of all men? The Mexicas were not the only ones to defile and sacrifice the enemy. But, enough! I will end by telling you that the star we awaited that night did indeed appear. But to no avail, because even with its appearance, as I have already told you, our era came to an end.”
    Father Benito looked at Huitzitzilin, and his eyes betrayed the agitation that was tormenting