All characters and persons involved in sexual activities in this story are over the age of 18.
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8: La Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz (Modern day Veracruz, Mexico): AD1549
Bella and Huitzilli
The sound of distant surf filled Huitzilli's ears as she made her way along the jungle path down to the beach. The feeling of the wet earth between her bare toes mingled with the sensation of the soft warm breeze blowing gently across her skin. She looked up and saw the far-off sparkle of the mid-day sun glistening beautifully off the breaking waves. She felt the sun's filtered heat wash pleasantly over her skin as it dappled through the thick green undergrowth of the forest.
It was a long walk through the thick jungles, craggy hillsides and eventually sandy shores of this land. The land that had once been the land of the Totonacs. But ever since the Aztec tax collectors had stopped coming for their ransom of food and sacrifices, nobody in her village had really been sure whose land it now was. Her father had told her that the land now belonged to a people called The Spaniards that, when he was a boy, had come from across the sea and thrown down their Aztec oppressors.
Nobody seemed to know much about these 'Spaniards'. According to her brother, who had made several trips south to their new town which they called 'La Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz' they had paler skin, and strange words. But they had goods to barter and seemed fascinated with the gold that he had offered them in trade. They had even taught her brother a few words of their language, which he had passed on to her. Huitzilli could now say 'hello', 'food', 'water', 'please' and 'thank-you' in the language of the Spaniards, as well as a few words which she was told meant 'praise to the Christ God', the peculiar sacrificed god that they all apparently worshipped.
Huitzilli had even had daydreams of running off to this new exciting town, learning their ways and exploring the world beyond the confines of her home. At nineteen years old she had never been more than a few days walk away from her village. And more frustratingly she had yet to find a husband amongst the small selection available to her there. Most of the men were either already paired off or much too young for her. She had been looking forward to this rainy season's annual gathering of the local tribes, where she had been hoping that she would finally meet a mate.
It wasn't as if she was unattractive, she thought. But she had been told this by her grandmother, so she thought that didn't really count. She was medium height amongst her people, with long dark hair which she arranged neatly into a tidy plait behind her. She had a wide, round face with big dark brown eyes and a wide smile. Her body was well toned and lithe from all the hard work that she needed to do around the camp. And she had learned basket weaving from her mother, as well as oyster hunting, beer brewing and some woodworking, all of which she thought would make her more than an attractive match for any of the young men that she might meet at the yearly gathering.
Although, if Huitzilli was honest with herself, the idea of a husband was not something that particularly attracted her. She had always thought that the young men around her were often little more than foolhardy, loud, posturing idiots. She had always found the women around her to be far more intriguing and glamorous. The way they moved, their strength and resilience, their knowledge and power over things that men would never even come close to understanding. She had even had a few encounters with other women of the tribe, but none had lasted more than a few times. She always seemed to be much more interested in these dalliances than they were.
But for now, she was happy enough just being Huitzilla, she had friends and family, and the jungles were plentiful, and the seas were always filled with fish and oysters. This was where she was headed now, down to the shoreline on the hunt for seafood. There were many others who could also hunt for shells on the shoreline here, but none seemed to have a knack for it like Huitzilla. She knew all the best nooks and crannies where the biggest, freshest oysters liked to hide. Her neck was adorned with many of the pierced shiny pearls which she had extracted from their salty insides, and she wore the necklace proudly as a testament to her talent.
Finally she made it down to the beach and she ran out of the murky depths of the jungle gladly, loving the feeling of the bright, white sand between her toes and feeling the sea spray lightly kiss her skin. The ocean was a perfect crystal blue with peaks of white here and there where the surf broke against the reefs which lined the shoreline. For a moment, Huitzilla just stood on the sand, feeling the sun beat down on her from above, and listening to the roar of the sea and the calling of gulls up in the sky.
She reached up behind her and undid the ties and thongs of fabric which held her woven tunic and leather shirt on. Then she eagerly stripped these off and left them in a safe pile under a tree by the shore, before grabbing her small obsidian blade and oyster basket and dashed full speed into the beckoning surf.
As usual the cold water of the ocean was a shock to her as she dove head first into its embrace. She felt herself gasp in pleasure at the shock of the water covering her naked skin. But it didn't take long for her body to acclimatise to the coolness of the water, and very soon she was floating happily beyond the breaking waves, allowing the delicious, clear blue ocean to hold her up like a mother holding a babe.
But she wasn't here just to luxuriate in her own personal paradise, so she made sure her basket was firmly secured around her torso and began to kick out for the reef. She was a natural swimmer, her mother had said that she always looked more comfortable in the water than she did on land. She certainly was able to hold her breath for longer than nearly anyone she knew, which was another good reason why she was so good at diving for oysters. She felt that today she would find an oyster to rival all the others she'd ever found.
- - -
Bella was rowing hard northwards in her little fishing boat that she had stolen from her brother. Her face was set in an expression of grim determination. She was not going back to Vera Cruz! The Major, and all his men would have to come and hunt her down and drag her kicking and screaming before she went back there. She thought that being born in this New World meant that she might be able to get away from all the stupid old traditions of the Old World. But no, she was still expected to marry some disgusting old creep, just because he was her Father's business partner?!
