“How precise you physicians are. If I use all of this, there will be no chance of escaping the drug’s lethal effect?”
“None.”
“Remarkable. This is what I needed to know—not the medical analysis. I shall put this to use at the earliest opportunity.”
“Such haste,” Alotl wryly commented. “The situation must be unbearable—for you. You are certain you do not want me to get something less potent?”
“No, this will do nicely.”
“Nicely? I should hate to be your relative. Then you are satisfied?”
“You’ve done well, Alotl. Perhaps some day I can do you a favor in return.”
“I’m not so certain I would ask you for one. However, if you need anything else, I’m always at your service.”
With his business thereupon concluded, Alotl departed, leaving Cihuacoatl alone in the chamber as he had found him. A cynical man, the physician had long ago determined there was nothing more in life that could surprise him, but when he left the minister, he must considered his conclusion sorely tested.
Now that Cihuacoatl had the poison, a more complicated task lay ahead of him as he thought about over how he would administer it and discovered few alternatives existed for him. If he placed the drug in food, many could become affected by it, and there was a need for him to be in the kitchen or Tizoc’s dining quarters—to accomplish this unseen required a magician. A more promising possibility was to corner the monarch alone somewhere and, with the aid of accomplices, force him to consume the potion. The perfect situation was if the minister were alone with Tizoc without anyone knowing of it; there had been such occasions, but they were rare. One thing he was clear on: if the deed was to be done, he needed to create the conditions for its consummation.
Fortunately Cihuacoatl had already managed to secure abettors in the scheme—Tizoc’s lack of popularity extended through many circles making that recruitment easier than he had imagined. He decided it might be beneficial to seek them out for ideas on how to continue from here. He walked from his ministry feeling confident the problem would unravel itself; no sooner had he cleared the door when he was intercepted by a messenger. “Our Revered Speaker requests your presence, Lord Minister,” the courier reported. “He desires a private meeting—in his royal garden.”
“When?”
“At noon.”
The gods themselves have arranged this, Cihuacoatl thought in amazement. They beckoned him to proceed.
He still had enough time to meet with his accomplices to finalize their strategy and, after dismissing the courier, hastened off for the trading center to make contact with Lord Huactli who ruled over the pochteca, the merchants. It was perhaps to be expected that he would be involved in plotting against Tizoc, for no other sector of the society was more adversely affected by the monarch’s timidity than the pochteca. Their trading routes, once sacrosanct, became increasingly hazardous to traverse as a result of banditry which they blamed on Tizoc’s failure in policy enforcement and his acquired reputation for weakness. Only the military may have held the monarch in lower esteem, but there the command and authority of Ahuitzotl acted as a steadying influence against drastic action, preventing any escalation of opposition.
Cihuacoatl was met at the center by Huactli’s personal guardians who informed their master of the minister’s visit and, after receiving the lord’s consent, bade him to enter and left him alone in a chamber with Huactli.
“You breathe heavily,” Huactli observed, “and come in great haste. Does this portent what we have so long desired?”
“I think this is the day,” Cihuacoatl affirmed.
Huactli sat motionless, needing time to fully appreciate the news. “What would you have us do?” he finally asked.
“I am to meet Tizoc at noon in his garden. I have the poison with me, and believe we will be by ourselves. If he has a drink available, I should be able to slip it in his cup. If not, I want you and your co-conspirators to appear with a goblet filled with water. We can then force him to drink it.”
“But if he is to meet only you, how will we explain our presence to him?”
“Do not make your appearance until I give you a sign—I’ll rub my arm across my brow as if wiping off perspiration. You have access to the garden. Hide yourselves in the shrubs and await my signal. Once I call for you, it will be too late for him and it no longer matters what he thinks.”
“What if he is not alone?”
“Then we’ll have to postpone our plan until another occasion presents itself.”
“How will we know the poison will be allowed to do its work? He could drink it, and then regurgitate it, annulling its effect, or maybe even take some kind of remedy to counteract it.”
“The poison begins to have an affect shortly after it is ingested. We’ll simply have to stay until the first symptoms appear—by then nothing will save him.”
“We could be seen if we stay.”
“Perhaps, but who would interrupt a Revered Speaker in conference? Even if we are spotted from the palace, I doubt if anyone will come close enough to identify you. Besides, we have the sworn word of Lord Ahuitzotl there will be no retribution against us.”
Huactli was not as enthralled over this as the minister. “I do not trust him. The priests say he does not show the gods proper reverence.”
“He will keep his word.”
“Then I must believe you. Still, it is better if we were not seen. Even as Revered Speaker, he could not keep the justices from us if we were positively identified.”
“I tell you this opportunity is god-sent. They must surely approve and will protect us. We shall not get a chance like this for a long time if we fail to act on it.”
Huactli was agreed that they could ill afford to lose such an auspicious moment. Further delay posed dangers as it might present Tizoc with favorable circumstances in which he could redeem himself and regain the people’s good graces, and each day lost meant more trade losses for his merchants on the road. “Very well,” he determined, “I shall gather my partners and proceed to the garden with them. It will not take long.”
Cihuacoatl left the trading center shrugging off the last doubts that resurfaced to plague him. The time was beyond possessing any reservations about this scheme, he said to himself. The machinery had been set into motion and was now rolling ahead under its own inertia. Still, there was considerable tension in the minister as the moment drew near; he felt his heart pulsating in his jugulars when he entered the garden through its main portal. He saw Tizoc at its farthest extremity apparently engrossed with some of his flowery plants. The monarch stood by himself, and as Cihuacoatl approached him, he looked about and noticed that no-one else was in the vicinity—another indication for him that providence guided him to this climactic conclusion.
“You sent for me, Lord?” said Cihuacoatl on arriving.
“Ah yes,” Tizoc acknowledged, still absorbed in his flowers. “Look at this delicate plant here. Have you ever seen a more magnificent bloom?”
It was typical of him to seek an agreement from his visitors on things he admired, and for the minister, who cared little about plants, it amounted to a meaningless diversion. Had he exhibited as much interest in maintaining the realm as he did in his garden, Cihuacoatl conjectured, there would have been no necessity for this conspiracy.
“Indeed not, Lord,” Cihuacoatl said in a strained attempt at showing some fascination. “It has a brilliant luster.”
“Also a remarkably soft texture. I should send Nezahualpilli one of these lovelies.”
Cihuacoatl