The Highlander

by Zoe Saadia

  “You will never have as many wives. That would be too much trouble for a lazy troublemaker like you,” muttered Nihi, but his smile was wide. “And don’t you think that those few cuts you are about to make in this meat will earn your lazy carcass a decent meal tonight. You’ll have to work harder than that.”

  “I’m not lazy,” protested Kuini. “I’m a warrior, and there have been no decent raids for, oh, moons. One could die of boredom.”

  Nihi’s laughter was infectious. “I can just imagine you dying with those bark-sheets clutched in your hands. Your spirit will drift, still trying to decipher their meanings.” The large palm rose, wiped the sweat off the broad face, smearing the juices of the fresh meat upon it instead. “What’s with those scrolls, little brother? Be careful, or you’ll turn into one of those manure-eating, good-for-nothing Acolhua warriors from the Lowlands.”

  “I’m careful,” muttered Kuini, not amused. There was something wrong with him, he knew. His fascination with the Lowlands, especially Texcoco altepetl, was unhealthy, unworthy of the proud, fierce Chichimec warrior. He shifted uneasily. “So, what’s going on? Did you hear something from Tlaxcala? Father went there in quite a hurry on the previous morning.”

  “The same Acolhua dung-eaters. Have the gall of sending here a delegation, imagine that!” Nihi looked up, frowning. “There are rumors about some trouble with the Tepanecs. No more, no less. They may be coming to our side of the Great Lake.”

  Kuini’s heart missed a beat. “The Tepanecs are coming?”

  “So it seems. To put those Texcoco dung-eaters in their place. Their emperor did some things to make them angry, apparently.”

  “I know, but I think he hoped to get away with it. A few summers ago he shoved aside his Tepanec Chief Wife, the daughter of the mighty Tepanec Emperor himself, to favor his Aztec wife. And he calls himself The Lord of the Chichimecs, or something of the sort now. But the Tepanecs only made him pay more tribute, that’s all. So he paid. Why would they war on Texcoco now? Although, when you think of it, he has been busy seeking sympathy with other Acolhua towns of the Lowlands.”

  The large eyes of his brother stared at him, astonished. “How would you know all that?”

  Kuini busied himself with separating the soft meat around the deer’s ribs. “I just heard those things.” He lifted his gaze. “What? I listen to what people say!”

  “No people say such things around here. They wouldn’t know any of this Texcoco gossip. I didn’t know the half of it, and I talk to Father. If it’s true what you say, then the Tepanecs are sure to land on their shores and squash those stupid Acolhua bastards. It’s farewell Texcoco, little brother.” The large eyes narrowed. “But why would you care?”

  Kuini shrugged. “I don’t.”

  The penetrating gaze bore at him. “Oh yes, you do. You are so tense and angry now, you would jump half of twenty palms high should someone come up behind you.” The older man laughed. “You are a strange one, little brother. I always wondered where you have been spending your time on those frequent disappearances of yours. But now I think I know. Although I don’t understand why you would go all the way to the Lowlands, to learn those Texcocan manure-eaters’ gossip.” The large knife got back to work. “And it would explain those scrolls you’ve been running around with.”

  Kuini cursed as his own knife sliced his finger. “What I do is no one’s business!” he called out, throwing the knife away angrily. “I do fight those filthy Texcocans when they come here and that’s enough. If I want to sniff around their altepetl, I’ll do just that, and no one could tell me not to!”

  “Not even Father?”

  The open amusement in his brother’s eyes made Kuini want to strangle the man. “You would do just that, wouldn’t you? Go and tell him?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. You think yourself a man, little brother, but you are nothing but a hothead that has hardly seen fifteen summers. You’ve been taken to a raid or two, but you haven’t even captured your first enemy yet.” The broad face grew sterner. “I’ve seen over thirty summers. I captured my share of the enemies. Mostly your Texcoco-Acolhua Lowlanders. I don’t want to hear that those manure-eaters have cut my brother’s heart out, to dump it on this or that altar. Even if this young hothead is stupid enough to go out there all alone.” The dark eyes narrowed once again. “Our warriors are the most prized sacrificial offerings among this scum of the Lowlands. Did you know that? Even the Aztecs would go to great lengths to capture any of our people. And what do you do? Run around Texcoco altepetl to get a scroll to read? Alone, exposed, unprotected.” The thin mouth moved into a scornful grin. “You’ll make a good warrior, Kuini. Even a leader maybe. But you have to get rid of this strange passion for reading bark-sheets. You are fascinated with our enemies way too much. And it’ll do you nothing but harm, mark my words.”

  They went on, working on the carcass in silence, their mood spoiled. His brother was right, thought Kuini painfully. This fascination with Texcoco and its people was an abomination. He should not hang around this place, should not make friends with its people. Coyotl was now an official heir. He would be an emperor one day. He’d rule the enemies of his, Kuini’s, people. He’d send expeditions into their Highlands, trying to capture many warriors to cut their hearts out and as many women to sell on the slave markets. Why, he would probably be leading those expeditions himself.

  He ground his teeth. No, he should not be friends with a future Texcoco emperor. They would meet on the battlefield soon enough. He felt the scroll in its skin bag, attached to his girdle, safe and sound. He would return the scroll and then never go to Texcoco again, unless he was a part of the war party.

  ***

  A group of warriors came up the alley as the delicious aroma of the roasted meat began spreading, tickling one’s senses. Both brothers, washed and at peace, squatted on the mats, watching Nihi’s wives arranging the place for the evening meal with children running everywhere.

  “It’s Father! I can’t believe it,” cried out Nihi, leaping to his feet.

  Kuini narrowed his eyes. Even in the spreading darkness it was easy to make out Father in the crowd. Short in stature and not as broadly build as the rest of his country-folk, his father was, nevertheless, the War Leader of their nation, the united clans and tribes of the Highlands.

  Not all of the nations around the high ridges were united, mind you, thought Kuini amused, watching the nearing warriors. They all had to hold on against the common enemy - Acolhua people of the Lowlands, with their great altepetls, empires, and their hunger for more lands and tributes. Still, the Highlanders would fight against each other on occasion.

  The warriors poured in, creating much excitement and anxiety, mostly among the womenfolk of the house. Additional mats and pottery were brought, and more meat was thrown into the large pots of stew.

  “What a reception!” laughed Father, squatting comfortably, acknowledging their greetings. “I swear, from now on, every time I’m away I’ll be coming straight here.”

  The other leaders chuckled, or smiled politely. “That’s the price for keeping a priestess as your Chief Wife,” someone laughed.

  “Is Mother still busy in the temple?” asked Nihi.

  “Oh, yes. The festivities are about to begin. In two dawns I think.” The man laughed. “I say, life is tough for some warriors.”

  Kuini watched them, safe in doing so. No one paid him any attention. At fifteen he was not old enough to participate in such conversations, yet he was allowed to stay, to eat with them, to hear and not to be heard. He didn’t mind. He liked watching and listening, although, the conversation did not reach any important topics, not yet. What happened at Tlaxcala? What did the cheeky Texcoco Lowlanders want?

  He watched his father’s narrow, outlandish face as the man talked and laughed, eating heartily, elbowing his companions, sharing jokes. The man did not fit the image of the stern Chichimec leader, with his foreign-looking face, his tendency to laugh, his steady refusal to take an addi
tional wife or two. Yet, he had been the War Leader of the United Clans for more than ten summers, leading the Highlanders against the surrounding empires with much success. He may have been short and lean, but he was strong, and his inner power was immense, his grasp on warfare and politics unmatchable.

  Kuini hid his grin. His father must have been sent here, to lead the Chichimec people against their powerful neighbors. Some divine power must have been involved. Otherwise, how could one explain the man’s lack of history? Father had no family, no relatives, and he looked like no nation around the Great Lake, neither the Highlanders nor the Lowlanders. A man with no origins; a mysterious man, with his independent manner and thinking, and this slightly accented speech of his.

  “Well, those Acolhua bastards surprised us once again,” Father was saying. “Not enough that they asked us to stop any hostilities. An outrageous demand, considering the raids they had launched against Tlaxcala last summer.” The narrow face darkened. “Suddenly, they want peace, now that their Tepanec overlords are busy preparing to invade their shores.”

  “I gather they had asked for a trouble, with their emperor’s activities - switching wives, taking new titles, enlisting the support of the Acolhua provinces,” said Nihi, tearing the juicy meat with his large protruding teeth.

  Father looked up, surprised. “You are well informed. Where would you hear something like that?”

  “Oh, here and there. The rumors were circulating.” Nihi shrugged guiltily, and Kuini breathed with relief, grateful that his brother was not about to turn him in.

  “Next time you share those rumors with me,” said Father, returning to his meal. “I might be less surprised with the cheeky demands of their messengers.”

  “I’m sorry, Father.”

  “So what did they want?” Kuini almost shut his mouth with his palm, wishing to push the words back. All eyes were on him, some startled, some amused, some reproachful.

  To his relief, Father chose to see the funny side of it. “Oh, I apologize for trying your patience, oh Honorable Warrior,” he said, amidst outbursts of hearty laughter.

  Kuini wanted to disappear from the face of the earth. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, staring into his plate.

  “It’s all right. I’ll tell you what the filthy manure-eaters wanted. They asked us to take a part in their upcoming war against the Tepanecs.”

  A stunned silence prevailed, interrupted only by buzzing mosquitoes.

  “What did you tell them?” breathed one of the elderly warriors, finally.

  Kuini’s father shrugged. “I told them to come back in half a moon,” he said, resuming his eating.

  “Why? Our warriors would never fight for those heartless lowlifes. After all they have done to us? Never!”

  “We won’t necessarily discuss this,” said Father unperturbed, and Kuini applauded the man’s self control. The tempers on such council would fly most certainly. They could start flying right about now. “We’ll have to call the council of all clans and nations. The situation is serious, and all the leaders would have to participate in taking the decisions. Any decisions. The Tepanecs are ruthless and dangerous. They may make our Acolhua enemy look like a meek coyote. I’m not sure we would benefit from switching our neighbors.”

  “We know nothing about those Tepanecs,” said another warrior. “They may turn out to be easier to deal with.”

  The narrow face closed. “I know those people. We don’t want their warriors and slavers on our side of the Great Lake.”

  Kuini watched his father, his heart beating fast. The man sounded like he did actually know those people, those terrifying Tepanecs. But how? How could he possibly know them?

  Chapter 2

  Coyotl shifted uneasily, eyeing the people of Xicotepec, bored. His eyes counted and recounted the representatives of the neighboring province, studying their colorful cloaks, their monotonous speeches brushing past his ears, not entering his mind. He knew everything they would want to say to the Emperor and everything the mighty ruler, his father, would answer back. These meetings repeated themselves almost on a daily basis these days.

  He stifled a yawn and glanced at the opening in the wall, measuring the sun. It was nearing midmorning. Still plenty of time left to reach his favorite Tlaloc’s hill by the height of the day. Carefully, he unfolded the small piece of bark paper and glanced at it once again, smiling. The painting was beautiful, depicting two human figures facing each other, clearly warriors, with their locks drawn elaborately. Both figures looked vivid and alive, holding onto spears, stern and foreboding, the rich colors applied to them carefully.

  Oh, Kuini was turning into a great painter, thought Coyotl, remembering the young hotheaded boy he had met almost five summers ago. On that remarkable day when his life had changed forever; on the day he had been made the heir to the throne, the future Emperor of five provinces and countless villages and towns. Oh, the Gods had favored him that day!

  And they had kept favoring him ever since, he thought, forcing himself to concentrate. The future ruler should not be bored with the delegations of his subjects. Father seemed to handle these meeting quite well, and he was an impatient person, warlike and determined, not a man who would prefer spending his time making speeches.

  Coyotl folded the paper carefully and tucked it into his girdle. The day before, he had found it behind the rock, in their usual hiding place, and it meant only one thing. Kuini was around.

  But why warriors? he thought absently. Was his friend referring to the impending war with the Tepanecs? The beautiful painting aside, the picture had an ominous tone to it. Were the Highlanders worried about the Tepanecs? Coyotl grinned. The Acolhua people from all over the fertile Lowlands would take care of the cheeky bastards from across the Great Lake, and Kuini’s Highlanders would help. He was thrilled to hear about the delegation that had been sent into their altepetl.

  He made an effort to concentrate once again, but this time his eyes were distracted by a maid who had just slipped into the vast hall, a bowl and a cotton cloth in her hand. A cotton cloth for cleaning? He watched the girl crouching beside the wide base of the Feathered Serpent statue, her back toward them, carefully so. She knelt gracefully, but her movements, when she began rubbing the polished marble, were clumsy.

  No, he thought, recognizing the slim, delicate, well groomed palms as they moved along the glittering, perfectly clean, surface. She would never do this. This would be just too much.

  “Oh, elders of Xicotepec,” the Emperor was saying. “You have seen how the Tepanecs have not only demanded the tribute, thinking our proud independent Acolhua altepetls to be just another tributary kingdom. Now, they want our lands to themselves. What would be your advice? We have pretended to ignore this problem, but would it be wise to continue ignoring the growing demands of greedy Azcapotzalco? Would those people be satisfied with the heavy tribute? Are they not preparing to invade our lands as we speak?”

  Coyotl listened, impressed with the way the Emperor had paused, encircling his subjects with a sincere, imploring gaze. As though he hadn’t given this same performance with the representatives of another province only a day before. And another one the day before that.

  His gaze drifted to the kneeling girl who was also listening, forgetting the cotton cloth and the statue. A cotton cloth, he thought, hiding a grin. She was so silly. He stared at the crouching figure, willing her to start moving. It would be too embarrassing should she get caught eavesdropping at the emperor’s audience.

  “With all the Acolhua provinces united, could we not repulse the Tepanec invasion? Perhaps, with our people united at last, with the stern leadership and the benevolence of the Gods, we will carry the war into their side of the Great Lake.”

  As the representatives of Xicotepec murmured in consent, Coyotl hid his impatience. The sun was climbing higher and higher, and he needed to start moving out.

  He saw a tall warrior, making his way toward the bulky figure of the Chief Warlord. A quiet exchange and the lea
der of the warriors nodded.

  It took him ages, in Coyotl’s opinion, to shift uneasily as if pondering his possibilities, finally making it toward the Emperor, waiting for permission to whisper into the revered ear.

  The cold eyes of the Emperor rested on Coyotl, startling him. “Nezahualcoyotl, go with the Chief Warlord, and listen to our people who are returning from the Highlands. Report to me afterward.”

  Interest rising, Coyotl sprang to his feet. “Thank you, Revered Emperor,” he said, lowering his head.

  “Come to see me after my midday meal,” said the Emperor, turning back to his Xicotepec subjects.

  She was still kneeling beside the statue, all ears. He brushed past her. “Come and eavesdrop at the other hall,” he whispered. “It would be more interesting, and the statues there could use some cleaning.”

  She tensed, but managed not to look up. He could see her shoulders trembling as if trying to hold back laughter. She was impossible, he thought, grinning. But invading the Emperor’s hall was just too much. He’d have to talk to her before he went out.

  The Chief Warlord was already in the other, simpler and less presentable, hall reserved for the Palace’s unofficial meetings. Coyotl neared, forcing himself to walk slowly, importantly, the way a future emperor would walk.

  “Well?” He eyed the group of tired-looking men. They were clean but clearly exhausted from a long journey, their faces gray with fatigue. Kuini was making this journey on and off with not much of a visible effort, he thought, amused. Some people of the Lowlands were soft.

  “We were just telling the Chief Warlord—” began the head of the delegation, a stocky, middle-aged man who looked like a trader.

  “Why didn’t you wait for me?” demanded Coyotl, interrupting his speech. “The Emperor sent me, his heir and the future emperor of Texcoco, to accompany our Honorable Leader of the Warriors. You should have waited with your message!”

  It came out well. The trader looked terrified, while the Chief Warlord just nodded reservedly. Relieved, Coyotl gestured for the man to continue.