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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 essential to the office.”

“Even if false?”

“Not false, Lord, but tempered by other considerations seen as more important.”

“Such as?”

“Such as,” Cihuacoatl glared at Ahuitzotl with deeply penetrating eyes, “the greater glory and prestige of the realm.”

Ahuitzotl’s countenance turned grim; he met the minister’s eyes with equal concentration. “So you admit we have suffered in this regard.”

“More than you would believe, Lord. The reports come to me daily. You think Toluca is the only city in rebellion? It’s the only one to have openly defied us, but there are vaccilations and grumblings in numerous other cities now. Chiapa and Xiquipilco are flagrantly reducing their tributes, proclaiming their insolence in this fashion. The Tlappanecs are known to steal produce from our merchants and harass them into taking lengthy detours around their region, at much inconvenience to us. These incidents have multiplied alarmingly as of late.”

“So it’s come to this—that they dare to interfere with the sanctities of our treaties.”

“They dare because they believe we no longer possess a will to exercise our power—they may even think us incapable of it now. These offenses were inconceivable only two years ago. The great Motecuhzoma would never have stood for such belligerence. Nor Axayacatl. Under their strong leadership no people would have dared to think, let alone attempt, such dissension.”

“This demonstrates the importance of making an example of Toluca. And I promise you, Cihuacoatl, if it comes to war with Zozoltin, I shall impart a lasting lesson on him.”

“I do not think so, Lord.”

“You doubt my resolve to do that?”

“Not your resolve, Lord,” Cihuacoatl replied dejectedly, “but your opportunity.”

“I shall be prevented from it? Only the Revered Speaker can do that.”

“And he will. Lord Tizoc has decided to lead the armies himself. He values Toluca’s tributes too highly and will want them continued after we have chastised it.”

While this did not settle well with Ahuitzotl, it was not unanticipated. “Well,” he said, “perhaps nothing will come of this, if the Tolucan lords surrender to us as Nezahualpilli expects.”

“That is absurd!” snarled Cihuacoatl. “Submit voluntarily to death? Never!”

“You believe this?”

“Of course.”

“You didn’t say anything at the council,” Ahuitzotl expressed bitterly. “It would have given me some satisfaction that the chief minister agreed with me—even helped my proposal. As it was, Nezahualpilli had a field day with him.”

“That is precisely the problem, Lord. Tizoc has no mind of his own and is too easily swayed by the opinion of others, particularly Nezahualpilli’s. He lacks the spine for manly resolution.”

“You and I seem to have reversed positions from our previous talks,” Ahuitzotl reminded the minister. “Why the change?”

“Events have greatly accelerated on us in the recent weeks. Patterns of unrest are developing everywhere, which I cannot attribute to any other factor except Tizoc’s weak leadership. I was blind not to see it earlier. His reign was manageable because he rode on the crest of successes achieved by his eminent predecessors. Worse, when I tell him of these exigencies, he is not even interested in them. He ignores my counsel and spends his days with architects and engineers discussing building projects. There’s an irony for you. He plans all this construction while all around him the domain is crumbling to pieces. If he has no concern for the strength of our realm, why should he listen to my warnings about its weakening? No wonder my health suffers.”

“You have my sympathy, Cihuacoatl, but you also told me I must accept this. The Revered Speaker rules for life, and it was you who chose him. How will you resolve your dilemma now?”

“His vaccilation and indecision threaten our empire. Do you agree with that, Lord?”

Ahuitzotl became curious where the minister would lead him and suspected he was about to be introduced to the unthinkable. “I’ve maintained that for longer than you have.”

“Then it should be evident what our sacred duty must be.”

“What are you suggesting, minister?” prodded Ahuitzotl.

“By the gods!” Cihuacoatl roared as he sprang off the bench. “Are you that dimwitted? I pray you do not play games with me, Lord, for this is a matter of gravest concern to us both.”

“I play no games, minister. Yes, I know what you are alluding to, but instead of my delving on mere conjecture, I prefer you tell me directly. If you have something to say, come out and say it!”

“The issue is problematic. Heresy is one of our most heinous crimes. I’m not yet convinced I am at liberty to say it—no, even think it! I’m trying to make sense out of it, to give it a justifiable basis—that’s why all these questions. They are as much for myself as for you. I seek assurances that my contemplations will not condemn me.”

“You still have not told me.” Ahuitzotl pressed, adding to the minister’s discomfort.

“Bear with me,” entreated Cihuacoatl, “so that I am able to extract a solution to our dilemma. If we accept that our most sacred duty is to protect and preserve the realm because in so doing we sustain the gods, then what happens if it becomes evident our Revered Speaker is unable or unwilling to perform this task? Would this not make it incumbant upon us to remedy the situation? Could the gods object to this?”

“If it’s for their own preservation, I don’t see how.”

“You lighten my burdens, Lord. Acknowledging that Tizoc’s reign jeopardizes the realm, I should think there’s no longer a question on what needs to be done, is there?”

“No,” agreed Ahuitzotl. “Tizoc must be replaced.”

“Tell me how; I will employ the method. I have no more reservations about its necessity.”

Ahuitzotl recognized the trap and was not about to advocate treason. “How can I tell you? You’re the one who selected him. Why can’t the same interclan council which made him ruler take the throne away from him?”

“Its decision is irreversible. The permanence of the monarch is decreed by both custom and religion. It cannot be otherwise if he is Huitzilopochtli’s personal representative to the nation. The people’s faith in the gods, the very foundation of our society, would suffer irreparable damage if we were to suddenly proclaim it is not so.”

“It appears you have a problem.”

“We have a problem,” Cihuacoatl baited Ahuitzotl, “unless, in your complacency, you are resigned to expending your remaining days under Tizoc’s ineffective rule.”

“I have no choice, as you told me.”

Cihuacoatl realized he would not succeed in getting Ahuitzotl to openly declare any kind of sedition against his brother. Perhaps he remembered too well the minister’s earlier admonishment or, more likely, simply did not trust him. But whatever his reasons, Cihuacoatl concluded that the time was not yet ripe for urging such action. He would try again later, but not without first offering more enticement. “That is regrettable,” he said, “especially when the general consensus is that you would manage the realm significantly better than the man who presently presides over it.”

Ahuitzotl proceeded cautiously, averse in confiding more and choosing his words carefully, wary of their provocative potential. “I have no way of knowing I would take Tizoc’s place,” he said.

“It can be arranged. As the council’s ranking speaker, my declarations carry weight.”

“In that case, I’m sure you can apply your talents and station in finding a way to replace him,” Ahuitzotl answered, still refusing to be cornered.

“I’ll work on it,” Cihuacoatl remarked as he prepared to make his leave. He was satisfied that he had implanted the seed which would spawn the serpent, and it was only a matter of waiting for events to unfold and bring it to life. Tizoc himself would see to that, for Ahuitzotl’s tolerance had its limits.

“We shall speak more on this some other time,” Cihuacoatl said as he departed.

Ahuitzotl stood at the entrance of his command post to watch the minister ambling away. Beyond him, he saw the third tier of the Great Temple embraced in its scaffolding and rising preponderantly above the adjacent structures. Once again he suppressed a bitterness he felt surging within him.