“Why do you look at me like that?” she demanded to know.
“I fear for my lady if she did not tell the truth,” answered the old woman.
“You stood quiet. Your conscience should be clear.”
“You said much to Pelaxilla that I know was false. She trusts you and yet you will deceive her. I shall remain silent out of my loyalty to you, my Lady, but do not tell me that my conscience should be clear.”
“There is more at stake here than the sensitivities of a mere child, Xoyo—I’ll thank you not to lose sight of that. It’s Tizoc’s safety I am speaking of. That in itself should mitigate any trespasses you adjudge me of.”
“It is not I who judges you, my Lady. The goddess Tlazolteotl heard what you said and knows what you will do. All my life I have been taught to be truthful lest I offend her—that she could afflict us with unspeakable suffering if we made false statements or contrived false purposes. I never imagined we could predispose her into agreeing that our misdeeds can be justified.”
Tlalalca grew worried. What Xoyo had stated was consistent with her own convictions and she could not recall any previous circumstance in which she had deliberately misrepresented her intentions. Yet now, with Pelaxilla, she set upon such a course, and she had no confidence her path was not fraught with hazards. Still, she strongly felt her cause was just and that she could not be faulted for pursuing it. However, there remained an element of concern. Who could say for certain what thoughts possessed the gods?
“We must see,” Tlalalca somberly concluded. “I cannot undo what I have already begun. My intentions are beneficent, and Tlazelteotl, in her wisdom, will know this. She will not hold this against me.”
Xoyo did not answer. She sensed Tlalalca’s disquietude and correctly deduced the empress preferred to dwell on her possible transgressions in silence rather than having attention drawn to these and thereby affirming them as such. Xoyo knew her lady well.
VIII
In his capacity as the Tlacatecuhtli, supreme commander of the Mexica and their allies, Ahuitzotl made it a point to personally oversee those operations viewed as unusual or daring in scope or as a prelude to greater, more promising undertakings. In keeping with this practice, he held a conference with his squadron chiefs of the advance party contingents which had now arrived and were being assembled in Tenochtitlan. With him was Tlohtzin, next in command and his principal assistant, who attentively listened as he imparted his conception of the enterprise.
“It must be understood,” Ahuitzotl emphasized, “that you are not to engage the Tolucans in combat; you have neither the strength, nor is that the purpose of your mission. Your duty is to prevent messengers or dispatchers of any kind, be it ambassadors or mere peasant, from making contact with cities which might support them. Control all access from Toluca through constant patrols by day and night. If you spot anyone, he must be turned back. You will be quartered and provisioned in the villages around Toluca. The local chiefs have received their instructions and will arrange for this. Maintain a constant vigilance—make your assignments accordingly—until you are met by our forces, or given orders suspending the operation. Do you have any questions?”
“What if they send out their envoys under escorts that clearly outnumber our patrols?” asked one of the chieftains.
“In such case, send a messenger to where your remaining units are stationed. You will be thinly scattered, but if enough warriors can be gathered, try to intercept them. While waiting for these reinforcements, follow them, marking the trail, to see where they go. If this will not work merely trail them and send a messenger to us.”
“We could marshall enough warriors from local chiefs to counter them.” proposed another.
“That would not be advisable. For one thing, their loyalty is suspect, being Matlazincas as are the Tolucans. While we may, through their fear of us, badger them into quartering us, to get them to fight for us is another matter. Also, by the time a muster is completed, the envoys would have a substantial lead on you—better to merely scout them out under such conditions. I do not expect the Tolucans to make use of escorts except as a deceptive move, so be wary of that.”
Having said what was deemed important, Ahuitzotl dispensed with added details to further encumber his squadron chieftains and dismissed them so they could make their preparation. He and Tlohtzin watched from the command post doorway as the young captains addressed their warriors standing in formation within the quadrangle of building constituting Tenochtitlan’s major military facility to disseminate the information they had just received.
“I tell you, Tlohtzin,” commented Ahuitzotl who viewed the proceedings with feelings of immense satisfaction, “There’s an excitement surrounding all aspects of war I find intoxicating. The organization of men to serve a common purpose, unit emblems rising above the ranks, the exertion of concentrated action, the thrill and confusion of heated battle—I was born for this.”
“War is a divine mission ordained to us by Huitzilopochtli, Lord. I see it as a sacred duty, no more, no less.”
“It’s much more. We were blessed when Huitzilopochtli made us the instrument of his divine will. No people so honored could have served him with such zeal.”
“We know each other well, Lord, but you often confound me. You are Huitzilopochtli’s high priest and surely devoted to him, yet you have never displayed the total commitment I see in other priests. To be truthful, I believed you more pragmatic and lacking the same religious fervor.”
“I make an exception for Huitzilopochtli. He is worthy of my esteem.”
“You confirm my point. There is a perverse side to your piety. Other priests would say you are sacrilegious in making yourself the arbiter of which god merits your oblations. You honor them based upon the degree in which they support your purposes, as if you bargained with them. The others honor them to assure their dominion over us. They fear the gods; one suspects you do not.”
“You’re quite wrong, Tlohtzin. It’s folly not to fear them. They can bring misfortunes on those who offend them. I assure you I stand in awe of them as much as anyone.”
Tlohtzin gave Ahuitzotl a leery glance, not pursuaded by his declaration, and was about to add something when he was distracted by a jaguar clad figure advancing across the quadrangle. “Is this our chief minister who approaches us?” he said. “He rarely comes here.”
“There’s an urgency in his pace.” Auitzotl noted, “I’d best see to him.”
Accordingly, Ahuitzotl left his vice-commander, not entirely displeased over the minister’s timely arrival as he had no eagerness to defend his views on devoutness, and walked out to meet his visitor. “Welcome, Cihuacoatl,” he greeted him, “How are you today?”
“I have been better. These are not the best of times, Lord. The burden of my office is most preponderant and affects my constitution. A gloominess abounds me, in spirit as well as body.”
“Come into my quarters. Dark chambers are suited for dark dispositions, not so?”
A rough grump acknowledged the minister’s assent and both men entered the dimly lit room and sat on the benches in its center, pausing to relish the interior coolness afforded by thick walls shielding them from the glaring sun.
“So, these are not the best of times,” Ahuitzotl spoke first. “Your enlightenment does not surprise me. I’ve said this often enough myself.”
“It’s not that I’ve disagreed with the assessment, Lord, but that my deference to my duties has prevented me from expressing such sentiments.”
“Ah yes, the minister’s loyalty must be beyond reproach.”
“It is