Читать книгу Ahuitzotl - Herb Allenger - Страница 10

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. Does this offend you, Lord? If you dispute the council’s judgment, be warned! You come perilously close to condemning yourself before the gods.”

The stern admonishment momentarily quieted Ahuitzotl, but his eyes glared with an intensity belying his affected composure. “Excuse this pain and anger I feel,” he said. “My reaction to the disappointment that overwhelms me whenever I reflect on the council’s decision.”

“Accept it, Lord! If you do not, it will poison your mind. Rulers are appointed for life and Lord Tizoc is a young man—you will suffer a lengthy torment if you continue moping over it.”

“It was an injustice to me. I will never forgive the council for that.”

“An injustice!” Cihuacoatl roared out.

“Yes, an injustice! It was I who led the army and won us honors. For this Axayacatl himself granted me command of our Eagle Knights. Where was Tizoc then? At the school in Calixtlahuaca to study the arts of statecraft. I ask you, did his education save us from the Huaxtecs? Or from the Mixtecs? I have repeatedly rescued him from certain defeat—whatever respect remains for Mexica arms is due to me.”

“Enough! Nobody disputes your ability in the conduct of wars, Lord Ahuitzotl, but there is more to running our nation than waging war. It might have done you some good to spend more time at Calixtlahuaca.”

“I have learned what I need to know—mainly how to properly serve Huitzilopochtli, our Sustainer. Am I not his high priest?”

Cihuacoatl was not impressed. “A perfunctory duty bestowed by a royal assignment for you. Huitzilopochtli does not rule over us alone. What of Tezcatlipoca? And of Tlaloc, or Quetzalcoatl? What do the sacred rites of Tlaltecuhtli signify? How would you propitiate these gods? If you cannot tell me, then ask your brother. He would know.”

Ahuitzotl remained silent, embarrassed over having his deficiency in these matters stated.

“Hear me, Royal Prince,” continued Cihuacoatl. “You are a headstrong and ambitious man, and that is a dangerous combination. Men whose actions are guided by, and directed towards, their own preceived interests place these above the common good and rarely attend to the duties of their office. They measure success by their own gratification than by what is beneficial—doing what is preferred to what is required. Did you expect we would imperil our lives by having such a man alienate the gods through impiety or ignorance? You are blinded by your conceit. In praising your accomplishments, to an exaggerated degree I might add, you diminish those of your brother, and are unable to see his worthiness. But I have said enough—it’s unlikely you will heed my advice. Be grateful I remain silent on what I’ve heard.”

Ahuitzotl paused as he digested the minister’s words. “You misjudge me,” he then said, “but I am thankful for your prudence. Yet note what I say. My time for greatness will come—of this I am certain!—and I shall outdo them all. Whatever my forefathers have done, I will do more. This I swear before all the gods! Tizoc may build his temple, but my glory will some day eclipse his. I shall surpass them all!”

Such determination could hardly be dismissed by Cihuacoatl, but upon further deliberation, he brushed aside his first intuition, recognizing these things are simpler said than done. Ahuitzotl was not the Revered Speaker. Still, an uneasiness remained with him, and he knew that he must now ponder over what possibilities the sheer strength of will can bring to fortune.

“Perhaps—if the gods will it,” Cihuacoatl whispered, turning to make his departure.

Ahuitzotl’s gaze remained fixed on the minister as he crossed the plaza for the temple complex. Could the Woman Snake be trusted? What was his true standing with Tizoc? There were some in the court who held that Cihuacoatl was highly displeased with his appointment of Tizoc to the kingship, even admitting to an error in judgment. But such talk was speculative. It may have been a dangerous miscalculation to speak ill of the monarch.

Ahuitzotl turned his eyes back on the temple and scanned over the sight of sweating bodies laboring upon the ramps and scaffolding. The surge of indignation he felt was overpowering, gnawing at him for seemingly the longest time, until, at last, he was compelled to look away. Beyond the hubbub of activity he saw dark clouds descending on the distant peaks of Iztaccihuatl and Popocatepetl as if congruent with the mood projected by the one thought that dominated him—I shall surpass them all!