Let us turn the pages forward and learn of the truths behind the transpired events that so profoundly affected a youthful Motecuhzoma as revealed to us by the All-Seeing, All-Knowing, Eternal Lord of the Night Sky, first among the Gods, Tezcatlipoca. By the new calendar imposed upon us, the year is 1486. Ahuitzotl is not yet the monarch. It is his younger brother, Tizoc, who sits on the throne—to the discontent of many, including members of the Council of Speakers, the Tlatoani, who appointed him to rule.
-A priest of Tezcatlipoca circa 1524 A.D.
PART 1
THE DEATH OF A KING
“Most mighty lord and brave youth; you have inherited the royal seat, of very rich and fine feathers, and the hall of precious stones that the God Quetzalcoatl, great Topiltzin, and the wonderful and glorious Huitzilopochtli have left behind them. This royal throne is only lent to you, and not for ever but for a short while only. The brave rulers who preceded you have exalted and extended this realm, more especially your grandfather, great Motecuhzoma, of high and revered memory, who, in his long life, raised it to a high pitch of glory such as it had never before attained.
“Therefore, my lord, take care not to be of faint heart. Look carefully to what you do. Take heed for the orphan and for the widow, for the aged who can work no longer, because these are the plumes, the eyelashes, and the eye-brows of Huitzilopochtli. Most especially you must care for the eagles and the tigers, those brave and valiant men, who act as a rampart of defense for you and your realm, and who extend its boundaries by the shedding of their blood. With these words, my lord, I end my speech.”
-Nezahualpilli of Texcoco at the appointment of Tizoc as Revered Speaker*
I
Ahuitzotl stood before the palace door watching work crews emplace masonry atop the second tier of the future Great Temple in Tenochtitlan. Handsome and possessed of a solid, muscular frame that rose to medium height, an aura bespeaking of lordly confidence embodied his personage. He was not as elaborately attired as might have been expected, shunning the profuse embellishments his peers would have proudly displayed. He had none of the facial ornaments—the golden earlobes, half-moons, or lip insertions—that others wore; his jewelry was limited to the golden arm bracelets common to the aristocracy. Nothing about his dress, his golden embroidered breechcloth, his blue cotton tunic, or his tilmantli, a cape fastened over his right shoulder hanging down to knee level, not even his feathery tasseled headband with gold trimmings, made him stand out as a particularly distinguished individual. It was his sandals which set him apart; of turquoise blue fabric and golden laces, they marked him as a member of the highest nobility, that of the royal house.
In bitterness Ahuitzotl gazed upon the project, meant to be an abode for their chief tribal deity, the war-god Huitzilopochtli, and the rain-god Tlaloc, who would occupy separate shrines upon its uppermost platform—the crowning achievement of Tizoc, seventh Revered Speaker and monarch of the realm. Its conception was not Tizoc’s; that claim belonged to his predecessor, Axayacatl, and it was he, not Tizoc, who began construction on it to commemorate his triumph over Tlatelolco, Tenochtitlan’s twin city on the lake, and their merging into one metropolis. He died unexpectedly from wounds received in an earlier war; Ahuitzotl had expected that the interclan council would appoint him as successor, but it chose Tizoc. And now, in his fifth year of rule, he decided to make the temple his major priority and directed all his energies toward its completion. Plaudits would come to him for this—acclamations immortalizing Tizoc as the builder of that imposing structure.
Treasonous thoughts raced through Ahuitzotl’s brain. They were brothers, all three of them—Axayacatl, Ahuitzotl, and Tizoc—grandsons of the famed Motecuhzoma Ilhuicamina and inheritors of an established tradition of empire building. Since even before the time of Motecuhzoma, the Mexica had subdued their rivals and embarked on a trail of conquests which had made them masters of the highland valley, Anahuac, so that now scores of cities rendered tribute to them. What conquerors they were! That Tizoc be counted among such giants bordered on insult. Yet Tizoc would finish the GreatTemple so that all will remember his name and sing praises to his glory—a deception was unfolding here.
“You have been standing here for a long time, Lord. Your gross absorption allows for much conjecture.”
His thoughts abruptly broken, Ahuitzotl glanced up to see Cihuacoatl, the Woman Snake, chief minister of Tizoc’s court. Cihuacoatl’s actual name was Tlilpopocatzin, but he was always addressed by the title of his office.
“Why should it, Cihuacoatl?” replied Ahuitzotl. “The structure is impressive—it doesn’t tire my eyes to look upon it.”
“True. However, you failed to notice me approaching you—from it. You are looking at the temple, but you see something else.”
“I was lost in thought, contemplating—the suggestion of a single temple serving two of our primary gods. I can see it generating envy between them.”
“It’s not the envy of gods you contemplate, but the envy of brothers. You resent the prestige this magnificent temple will bring to Lord Tizoc’s memory. Dismiss such thoughts, Prince. They are not worthy of you.”
Such an overture was typical of Cihuacoatl. An adroit minister of the state and Vice-Ruler of Tenochtitlan, he was second in power only to the monarch himself. While he was not particularly liked by Ahuitzotl, or many other nobles—a reaction he elicited through an abrasive mannerism—there was significant respect attached to his position. He was a man to be reckoned with, a Tlatoani, one of the principals of the interclan council, a body of speakers which elected the ruler. As the council’s ranking member, Cihuacoatl was, in every sense of the word, the maker of Mexica ‘kings’.
“I won’t trouble myself to deny it,” Ahuitzotl countered. “There is much resentment.”
“Enhanced by you, no doubt.”
“Chief Minister you may be, Cihuacoatl,” Ahuitzotl replied in his annoyance, “but I remind you to maintain your courtesy when speaking to a member of the royal house. You have no cause to deprecate me. Any feelings I harbor my brother, I’ve kept to myself. No, minister. If there is dissatisfaction in the realm—and it becomes more apparent at every passing day—the fault lies with Tizoc. Say what you will; it will not diminish the deterioration emanating from the throne. I have no need to proclaim the obvious.”
“You may not express it, but your actions make your intentions clear enough. Your hostility towards Lord Tizoc is known to us—so well that it no longer merits my attention,” said Cihuacoatl, turning to make his departure, but Ahuitzotl brought him to a halt.
“You have wronged me, Cihuacoatl!”
“How so, Prince?”
“I was the rightful heir as eldest brother. Everyone knows this. My conduct in battle is of the highest order—my bravery unquestioned. I am the ablest of our commanders. The duty of the council is to choose the man most capable of leading us as Revered Speaker.”
“That it is.”
“Why, then, does Tizoc sit on the throne? What has he done to earn him that exulted…”
“He sits on the throne,” Cihuacoatl angrily interrupted, “because the council chose the man best fit to rule.