"Rumors, your Excellency, they are only rumors." The older man gestured vehemently. "They were most assuredly planted by the English to stir unrest among your loyal subjects."
The king studied Philip for a moment. Despite his passionate words, his advisor's face was creased with worry.
"You lie, Philip. But you mean well and your loyalty is appreciated. Do you have word of the Queen?"
"She and the children have arrived safely in Rome. She sends her love and concern."
"I understand her concern. I have a bad feeling about this day, Philip."
"Come now, your Excellency. You are Carlos I, King of Spain, Holy Roman Emperor. God himself is on your side."
The king laughed bitterly. "If God is involved, I fear it is to punish me. How else could this have happened?"
"The day is not — " Philip paused at the sounds of commotion in the hallway.
The sturdy oak doors of the study shuddered as they were thrown open. A bloody, battered man stumbled into the room followed by two of the king's body guards.
"I'm sorry, your highness. I tried to stop him. But he insisted that he only speak to you." Eduardo, the king's attendant rang his hands anxiously, his face pinched in concern. "These two were useless." He nodded at the guards.
"Don't worry, Eduardo. The general is always welcome." Eduardo scurried from the room as Philip helped the general to one of the richly embroidered chairs. The king calmly poured a glass of sherry, handing it to the injured man as the doors shut behind the retreating entourage.
"What news do you have, general?" Philip asked quietly.
The general took a sip of his drink before replying. "I am afraid that I am not the bearer of good news. It is as we feared, maybe worse." Shaking hands brought the glass again to his lips. "The savages have come."
Philip cursed softly as he poured himself a drink.
"Details." The king requested.
"It is as our spies reported. The Aztecs are not the weak people we were led to believe. Since Cortes's ill-fated journey nearly ten years ago, they have been preparing. We thought they were simple savages, wiping out each expedition we sent to the New World. A backwards people who knew only simple warfare with primitive weapons. Our arrogance now haunts us." The general gave a bitter laugh.
"Are you saying they have weapons equal to ours?" Philip's face paled.
"No. I'm saying they have weapons equal to the best England has to offer. Moctezuma has formed an alliance with King Henry, backed by more gold than England has ever seen."
Silence grew as the three men contemplated the implications.
"What of his military strategies?" the king asked.
"By the time Cortes landed, Moctezuma had already won three major wars against well-armed enemies. He had an established army of over 150,000 warriors. Experienced warriors."
"But what of the initial reports? Promises of easy conquest and untold riches?"
"Cortes was correct about the riches. By the time he learned his lesson on military strategy, it was too late."
"What are you saying?" Philip asked.
The general paused, strengthening himself with more sherry.
"Cortes did not die of disease. He and his men were given a choice — join Moctezuma or meet the Aztec gods."
"Madre Dios!"
"I am afraid that the Holy Mother had nothing to do with this. The altars of Tenochtitlan are stained with Spanish blood."
"Pagans!"
"Yes, but very clever pagans. That is the news I bring. Moctezuma has landed at Cadiz."
"That cannot be." Philip shook his head in denial.
"Don't be a fool. Look at this blood." The general thrust out his bloodstained hands. "Do you think this is from walking through the palace grounds? Or that it is perhaps the latest in court fashion?"
"We don't question you, general." The king's quiet words echoed in the room. "But we do not understand. If you had told us King Henry's army had landed, perhaps that we could believe. But Tenochtitlan is a world away from Cadiz."
"The Arab's have a proverb, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'" Moctezuma has the strategy and the men. King Henry has the navy and the thirst for gold. They both have a desire to see Spain crushed."
Philip sat down heavily.
"This is more than just spy talk," the king stated.
The general sighed. "I was there. The blood you see is not mine. At least, most of it is not."
He paused again.
"When the sun rose over Cadiz, the fleet was already sailing into the bay. The soldiers raised the alarm, but the cannon stayed silent. Terrified, people tried to flee the city."
The general fell silent. A turtle dove cooed sadly outside the window as if it sensed the coming horror.
"Continue. Please."
"I was eating my morning meal and when I heard the chaos. People flooded the streets trying to escape. I pushed through them, working my way to the fort. If the soldiers had fled, I was going to man a cannon myself, determined that invaders would not take my city quietly. A strange movement caught my eye as I approached the fort. An arrow shot past me, narrowly missing. Half-dressed men walked the walls, barring access to the cannons. I recognized them from Cortes' initial correspondence sent to the king. They were Aztecs. Before I could react, a soldier ran past me. I heard a gunshot and he dropped, dead."
"They have guns?"
"I suspect we have King Henry to thank for that, as well. I watched as a dozen more soldiers stormed the fort only to fall before the gun or the arrow. They were the lucky ones."
The king and Philip exchanged a puzzled look but waited for the general to continue.
"Eventually they left the fort to look for soldiers. There was a great celebration when they found one. I watched as many warriors gathered around their captive. Their faces were covered in patterns of black, given them an appearance the like of which I'd never seen. Eight held the soldier to the ground — two for each arm and leg. As I watched, an older warrior stepped forward. He called out loudly in a strange tongue, waving a knife over his head. The rising sun reflected off its black stone blade like shadows at midnight. He bent swiftly and I lost sight of him among the crowd. The soldier screamed, then was silent. When the Aztec rose again, he held the soldier's heart high above his head. Bright blood poured onto his head and ran down his face like sweat. The heart beat once, twice, thrice, expelling the last of its precious liquid."
"You are lucky you escaped."
"I didn't."
"The sherry has gone to your head. You are sitting with us now."
"I tried to escape. But the Aztecs were smart and had sealed the city. By now, the fleet had landed with the rest of their army. Every corner became a victory celebration. Screams filled the air as they sacrificed person after person. Men. Women. Children. None were spared. Mothers wailing, children crying, the stench of death everywhere."
He studied his hands. "Of course they caught me. I fought, but there were too many. I resigned myself to death. I watched as the black knife rose in the air. Then suddenly it was gone. I was escorted to the harbor, bundled into a skiff and rowed out to the largest ship in the bay."
"And then you escaped?" Philip prompted.
The general remained silent.
"Speak," the king commanded.
The general looked at the king. Tears filled his eyes.
"Moctezuma sends his regards and welcomes you as a subject of the Aztec empire."