The Butterfly with Crystal Wings

By DEMETRIO VERBARO

the 3 March 1520, the Aztec priest Ghetumal delivery to the Spanish conquistadores Hernan Cortes a holy book. Ghetumal had found it a few years earlier under the statue of the goddess of rain. No one knows who wrote it, or when. In the book there is a prophecy about the future: on August 18, 2044 something will upset the world, and is a map to decipher to change the course of events. Los Angeles 2043. The explorer Matthew Lekos and Walden Green historian come into possession of the book. Ridiculed by the scientific community for their ingenuity, they are the only ones to believe in the prophecy and manage to decipher the map, trying in every way to help humanity. The prophecy is true? What will happen on August 18, 2044? In a series of twists, turns and unpredictable between pages full of suspense, the reader will come to the incredible final.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Dec 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781507145449

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The sun was still hidden behind the mountains, but its rays had already started skimming over the valley. When the red ball appeared over the peaks, it cleared away the morning fog and it started burning in the sky.

Hernan Cortes breathed in the pure air, characterized by the acrid flavour of the wild nature. The soft wind, that wandered silent in the landscape, made the blond fields of wheat floating.

8th November 1519:

Although the emperor Montezuma had a big army, Cortes, who led only few hundreds conquistadores, was able to enter the town of Tenochtitlan, the capital of the Aztec Empire that, with its 300.000 inhabitants, was the most densely populated in the world.

The Spanish were welcomed with honour and they stayed in a big building set in the central square, because both Montezuma and most of the Aztec people thought that they were gods or divine messengers.

During the following months, the Spanish and Aztec people lived in a pacific way, but with the passing of time, some of the Indios, led by Cuitlahuac, Montezuma’s brother, understood that their guests were not gods, but only men.

The discontent against the Spanish grew and the idea of fighting and defeating them developed.

3rd March 1520:

Cortes was woken up by the rolling of the drums that came from next houses. He stretched his numbness limbs, opened the window and looked North, looking for the sea, far in the horizon, but he only saw high peaks standing out against the red sky, where the black profiles of the vultures appeared and disappeared. He gazed at East, where far away, after the endless plain of oaks and cypresses, the beautiful Mayor Temple erected in its magnificence.

Cortes’ naked body stressed his strength and power.

He looked like the Riace bronzes: he was tall and slim, his muscles were full of energy, he had olive-coloured skin, thick hair, a wide and squared jaw and two deep grey eyes covered by thick eyebrows.

He wore his armour, drew the sword striking the air, and then he replaced it in a natural way in the scabbard. He stroke fear and respect.

He went next to his bed and in a sweet voice he said: Malinche, wake up!

An Indian woman with amber-coloured skin and a deep look in her eyes, answered while yawning: What is going on, my love?

Get dressed, we are going to the Temple, I want to meet Ghetumal.

Malinche was a beautiful woman: her standing up straight showed her breast, her thin legs stressed her body. She had pale brown eyes that looked at the world with curiosity. Her fine face with lean features was bright; her full and disdainful lips highlighted her sensuality.

She was born in an Aztec noble family, and then she had been sold when she was a child as a slave after a lost battle. Malinche was able to take advantage of her difficult past.

She was adaptable, she was not insecure and she easily faced life.

The woman saw that her Spanish lover’s eyes were full of ferocity and tried to calm him down: I don’t think it is a good idea; he is the most influential priest of the town, don’t make him your enemy

Cortes hugged and reassured her: I simply want to talk with him... Then he nibbled her ear: ...and since I don’t speak Nahuati, I need you.

The woman pressed her firm and well-shaped breast against him: Do you prefer me as a lover or as an interpreter?

His voice was soft: Last night as a lover, today as an interpreter.

Her sweet face became serious: I am the only nahuati-spanish interpreter in the whole reign, but I am not the only one you make love with.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her with passion: But you are the one that I love.

She covered her naked body with a white huipil put on her shoulders: I am ready, we can go.

They walked among the houses and entered the path that led towards North. The air was fresh, the far singing of a toucan resounded in an unreal silence.

Why are we taking this road, instead of following a more simple way? Asked Malinche with perplexity.

I don’t want to be seen.

The mesquite scratched their legs; they opened a path through the high and thick cactuses.

When they crossed the fields of wheat and maguey, the road became more practicable. They went on, walking among the trees until they reached their destination.

When they arrived near the Mayor Temple, Cortes looked at the 60 metres tall pyramid and cried out marvelling at it: It’s wonderful.

They entered the Temple and they were going down a long and narrow passage when, suddenly, Cortes shouted and, moving back, showed something in front of him.

The woman, without any fear, approached to the point showed by the Spanish man and said: Its name is tzompatili; it is a blanket covered with skulls, they are thousands.

They walked for a long time and crossed altars, statues of eagles, jaguars carved in the stone and a memorial chapel dedicated to warriors, until they reached a room where there was a big statue of a goddess.

This time Malinche was afraid and moved back.

The goddess was twice a human being, instead of having a head she had two snakes with long forked tongues that darted from their mouths; she wore a necklace made of human hearts and hands, a tunic made of snakes that seemed squirming on her breast; she had flat talons instead of hands.

Who’s that? Asked Cortes without receiving an answer from the woman.

That’s Coatlicue, the goddess of fire and fertility. Answered a voice near them.

It was Ghetumal, the priest, and he went close to Cortes greeting him:

We are meeting, finally; I knew you were coming today and I was waiting for you.

He was an old man, although he had a lean and agile body that unleashed the typical energy of a boy, but his age was clear in his worried face, in his sagging cheekbones and in his sharp and expressionless mouth.

Cortes jumped: Do you speak Spanish?

The old man voice was heavy, he had good manners: Aguilar, the survivor, taught it to me. Send away your woman; we must talk only you and me. There are a lot of things I have to tell you.

Cortes, waving his arm, told her to go away and Malinche, walked away silently and went to the next room to wait for him.

Cortes told in a threatening voice: How did you know that I would have come today?

Ghetumal, who had in his hand a book with a red binding, pressed it against his chest and then gave it to the Spanish man: It was written here.

The man cried angry, pointing fingers: I don’t want to waste time with those things. I am here for a precise reason: Cuitlahuac only listens to you, you must advice him to surrender.

The old man said without hesitating: You are a good captain, a great soldier, brave and aggressive as well as Cuitlahuac. He won’t surrender.

Cortes was a self confident man, he knew who he was and what he wanted; everything was clear to him, he never had doubts or regrets and he couldn’t stand being contradicted: He’ll have to do it, otherwise I will convince him.

Ghetumal answered bitterly: You arrived here with 550 men, 11 ships, 16 strange animals called horses, a lot of dogs, strange weapons, that you call cannon, able to destroy a big tree. You have blunt spears that spit fire and you are allied with thousands of Indians tired to be subdued to Aztec... Then he looked far before finishing his reflection: ...but you won’t conquer an empire composed by 500 people using strength...

Cortes shouted, with clenched fists: How do you know these things? Tell me who the mole was.

Even this is written in the book. It foretells the future.

The Spanish frowned, trying non to get angry: Ok! I’ll make you happy, go on, and tell me what your book says about the future.

Ghetumal read it in a sad tone of voice: "the uprising of people against the Spanish dominion will increase in this town; Cortes will immediately ask Montezuma to order the people to stop, but they, tired of the Spanish oppression, will start throwing stones against the Spanish and the king who will die because of a stone thrown by his subjects. His brother Cuitalahuac will be elected tlatoani of Tenochtitlan and will start to organize a strong battle against the Spanish, but he will soon die by smallpox. The night between the 30th June and the 1st July 1520, the Spanish will understand that they are fighting a battle that is impossible to win; so they will decide to escape from that town stealing all the Aztec treasure. To go away from town, Cortes will choose the western road, but the wooden bridge won’t resist to the weight of the army and will break, so that the rearguard will be blocked in town. Cortes will lose most of his men and of his allies, most of his horses and weapons, and the stolen treasure will be swallowed up by the lake,."

Cortes listened to him in silence and when he spoke, his voice wasn’t so arrogant: Tell me the truth, did you write that book?

Before the man could answer, he snatched it out of his hands and seeing that it was written in Spanish, he continued reading: "In the meanwhile, the diseases brought by Spanish had destroyed and weakened the Aztec. Cortes will return with a new army and the