“You will,” Ahuitzotl reaffirmed. “In one week.”
XVII
Tizoc, accompanied by his court sycophants, stood by watching an enormous ceremonial stone rumbling over log rollers toward its permanent emplacement in in the central square behind the tow of thirty-some workmen. A huge circular slab of volcanic rock, eight feet across and weighing several tons, meant to be centered about fifty paces in front of the steps to the Great Temple and replace a similar but smaller stone already there; its purpose was to provide a base platform for warriors engaged in gladiatorial combat. Sculptors walked alongside the monolith, for they still had some finishing touches to complete on the frieze chiseled into the block’s lateral surface. The carvings depicted a superbly engraved scene which saw the Revered Speaker Tizoc holding a number of captives by their hair, each symbolizing a conquered city identified by its respective glyph. To Tizoc it had special signification as it commemorated his triumphs and, like the Great Temple when completed, would stand as an enduring monument to his reign.
The stone represented one of two gigantic sculptures advanced by Tizoc. In addition to this combat piece, there existed an even more massive calendar, already finished, which would be housed in Huitzilopochtli’s shrine atop the Great Temple. Tizoc felt justly proud of these accomplishments, not only for their important functional roles in the many rituals, but also as works of art. The stones were exquisitely carved out by the finest artisans in the realm who were specially recruited for the task and, to any observer, they instilled a sense of awe by their overwhelming crushing energy and epitomized the most magnificent examples of Mexica creativity.
With extreme pride, Tizoc viewed his ceremonial stone being shifted into position when a messenger rushed up to him and told him that Ahuitzotl wished to see him. “Must my finest moments be spoiled by his presence,” Tizoc mumbled to himself, his disposition turning sour, but he duly informed the messenger to go and fetch his brother.
Within the briefest time, Ahuitzotl stood next to him, having deftly maneuvered through the aides surrounding the Revered Speaker. Tizoc initiated the conversation.
“What do you think of my masterpiece?” he asked as he extended his open hand toward the stone.
“It’s magnificent,” Ahuitzotl replied.
“A fitting piece to adorn our most glorious work of all, the Great Temple. Do you like the side carvings?”
“Beautifully executed. Perhaps the scene is an exaggeration,” Ahuitzotl tactlessly remarked, more as a joke in bad taste than out of any maliciousness.
“If you mean to humiliate me, brother,” an unamused Tizoc commented, “then know that this stone represents a well-conceived deprecation of you.”
Ahuitzotl turned red over his poorly received raillery, but also held a curiosity over Tizoc’s meaning. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.
“You say the stone depicts an exaggeration? Of course it does. You and I both know this, but will anyone a generation from now? They will look upon it and remember my reign as far more glorious than any other, and this perpetually burns you, doesn’t it? I shall disregard your last remark, satisfied with the knowledge that by this single stone, I’ll gain far greater renown than you ever will with all those excursions I send you on. Your victories will fade in time and eventually be forgotten altogether, but this stone will remain, as will my Great Temple—my endowments to the world.”
Ahuitzotl sizzled, and only with utmost self-restraint did he avoid doing even more damage to himself. “I spoke without thinking,” he apologized. “I hope, in your wisdom, you can see this and excuse my carelessness, Lord. I would be most appreciative.”
“Do not overindulge me with your flowery words, Ahuitzotl. It’s not in your character—I know you too well to be deceived by them. I’ve seen enough here and was about to leave anyway, so come, I shall give you an audience.”
They headed in the direction of the palace, having separated themselves from the monarch’s coterie, and once alone saw no reason to delay their discussion.
“Now, what is it that’s so important?” Tizoc began.
“Something very personal to me, it concerns one of your mistresses—one named Pelaxilla.”
“I was curious when you would ever get to her,” Tizoc dryly mentioned.
“You know about us?”
“Come now. You two haven’t been exactly discreet with your afternoon meetings—really.”
Ahuitzotl sensed an uneasiness over Tizoc’s apparent lack of sympathy. “Then you are aware how much I desire her,” he said. “As your mistress, she is pledged to you, and I have honored this with her, but I now humbly ask that you release her from these obligations and allow her, on her own volition, to choose the man she wishes to serve.”
“Why should I?”
It became obvious to Ahuitzotl that he was going to face complications in securing his request, but, having already declared his purpose, he persisted. “You have many mistresses,” he replied, “What can one less mean to you?”
“So do you. One more should be of no consequence.”
“Pelaxilla is special to me—else I should not be here. Indeed, I would willingly give up all the others just for her.”
“I’m touched,” Tizoc responded without projecting a hint of compassion. “If I give her to you, what will you do with her?”
“Why, marry her, of course.”
“I thought so, and am compelled to inform you that you cannot. It’s not possible.”
His words impacted as a thunderbolt on Ahuitzotl, startling him, and he reacted with shock. “What are you saying?” he asked.
“You have forgotten what our laws decree. Unhappily for you, Pelaxilla is not of royal lineage. She is not of the Toltec or Tepanec family, which any priest will tell you is a prerequisite for unions involving our ruling elites. I correct myself—not any priest, since you, as Huitzilopochtli’s high priest, evidently did not. I must remind you that this has been a mandatory condition since the reign of Itzcoatl in order to keep the royalty in domination over our other nobles. Even if she was of nobility in her own city, she does not qualify for the House of Tenochtitlan.”
How could he have ignored this? It had never occurred to him that an inquiry into Pelaxilla’s background was in order; by her mere presence in the palace, he had assumed that she had the qualified ancestry. Tizoc was correct; the nobility, to be eligible for the kingship, had to belong by bloodlines to the Toltec or Tepanec families to which was claimed a divinity that descended from the gods themselves. A marriage to Pelaxilla constituted an impurity of this legacy, a defilement, and was unacceptable, particularly to the priests whose abstractions entailed an obsession for the proper lineage among Revered Speakers and their heirs.
“Can this be true?” gasped Ahuitzotl in disbelief.
“It is. Deny it all you want, but no priest will perform the sacred rites for you.”
“The priests! Always it is the priests! They must approve of this, they must condone that, but always they must have their say. Is there not one aspect of my life that is not controlled by these infernal priests?”
“There isn’t, and it will do you no good to blaspheme against them. They are a sacrosanct lot and ever remind you of it. A Revered Speaker has little power over them, and certainly no measures by which to dispense with the laws they have decreed for us.”
The world had crashed down upon Ahuitzotl. Any hopes he sustained for himself and Pelaxilla were eclipsed by the cruel revelation Tizoc had presented. After he recovered sufficiently enough from his initial jolt, he probed for another solution to his predicament.
“If