by Zoe Saadia
“I hope you will meet your brother one day,” he said, curiously unsettled. This Aztec, or Tepanec, was not a bad man, after all.
Chapter 6
“The traitorous Aztecs are going to betray us!” called one of the Emperor’s advisers angrily. “They will not send their forces to reinforce ours. They will leave Acolhua people to fight this war all by themselves.”
Coyotl almost jumped, startled. Standing beside the Emperor’s chair, he listened intently, but the discussions with the warriors’ leaders and the advisers had drifted on and on, people coming and going, talking endlessly as the sun slid down the western sky.
He shifted uneasily, his own worry mounting. He hadn’t been able to talk to the Emperor privately, although he had tried to do so since the early morning. Iztac’s troubles were not taken care of, and when he’d gone to see her around midday, having been released from the official hall for the duration of the meal, he had been denied the right to enter her rooms. The slaves guarding the entrance were apologetic but firm. The Second Wife’s orders were clear. No one was to see the First Daughter. She was to be kept alone, until her punishment was decided upon.
He ground his teeth. The filthy Second Wife had the right to do that. The girls were their mothers’ responsibility. Even being the official heir, Coyotl could not go against her mother, unless permitted by the Emperor. And why would the Emperor pay any attention to the troubles of one of his numerous daughters? He had more important things to do. Like preparing for the invasion of the Tepanec Empire that was out to conquer Texcoco.
Then, there was another worry. After the failure to reach his sister, Coyotl rushed out, scaling the well-familiar trail of the Tlaloc Hill. Yet, this trip turned out to be just as fruitless. Kuini was nowhere around their usual meeting place and, worst of all, the hill looked like no one had spent a night there. Had his friend headed home to his Highlands already? Although disappointed, Coyotl found himself wishing that to be the case.
Yet, the worry kept nagging. What if his foreign-looking friend had not made it out of the city the day before? He, Coyotl, should not have agreed to leave him there in the marketplace. The Highlander might have gotten into all sorts of troubles, killed in many creative ways, and he wouldn’t even hear about it, unless those were official or religious.
He frowned. One trouble at a time. Pressing his lips, he tried to get his concentration back on the Emperor’s closest advisers, three elderly men, and Texcoco Chief Warlord, all four troubled and incensed.
“We can throw the Tepanecs back into the waters of the Great Lake without any help from the barbaric Aztecs,” the other adviser was saying. He was a plump, stocky man of great dignity. “After all, what are they, if not cheeky newcomers with no history or roots? Their warriors are fierce, but they have no finesse. We can do without them.”
“In that case,” cried the Chief Warlord hotly, “we will be preparing the invasion of their pitiful island the moment we are done with the Tepanecs. We—”
The Emperor raised his hand, cutting off the passionate speech . “All of you may be underestimating the problem.” The deep voice of Texcoco ruler rang strangely in the dimly lit hall. “What if the Aztecs will be throwing their fate in with the Tepanecs this time?”
A disturbing silence prevailed, and now, Coyotl had no difficulty concentrating. Heart beating fast, he waited for the rest of the Emperor’s speech, his stomach turning.
“What if they choose to reinforce the Tepanec forces?”
“Impossible, oh Revered Emperor,” breathed the first adviser amidst the deep silence. “They would never do that.”
“And what is to stop them? Their history with the Tepanecs until now is of cooperation and mutual wars and campaigns. Under Acamapichtli they were paying their heavy tribute to Tepanecs without a murmur.” The Emperor’s gaze encircled them, heavy and penetrating. “Huitzilihuitl is craftier. He managed to acquire one of Tezozomoc’s favorite daughters as his Chief Wife, and the cunning woman already made the mighty Tepanec Emperor cut the tribute down to fourth of what Tenochtitlan used to pay. Huitzilihuitl is careful not to offend his Tepanec overlords. And yet…” The Emperor paused, chewing his lower lip, his narrowing eyes thoughtful, staring at some indecipherable thing in the distance. “And yet, under the shiny coating of a perfect contentment, Huitzilihuitl may be cherishing the idea of Tenochtitlan’s independence. His Chief Warlord, that unbearably arrogant, audacious man, may not be relating his emperor’s entire mood. Or he may be relating his own thoughts instead. He seems to be sure enough of himself to presume that his own judgment of the situation may be of importance. Acamapichtli has trusted this first Chief Warlord of his too much.”
Coyotl watched his father’s face, spellbound. Oh, what wisdom! What grasp! Under such an Emperor Texcoco could not lose.
“Do you think Huitzilihuitl trusts this man as much as his father did, Oh Revered Emperor?” asked the second adviser, carefully.
The Emperor shrugged. “It is something I would rather have made sure of,” he said, deep in thought. “This man may not have as much influence over the current Tenochtitlan’s Emperor.”
“I heard this Warlord has the Tepanec blood running in his veins,” said the third man who had kept quiet through the whole exchange. “His loyalty may be in doubt if so.”
“Many of our people have Tepanec blood, nobles and commoners alike,” said the Texcoco Warlord impatiently. “This man, indeed, looks like a Tepanec, but it would account for nothing.”
“I did not say this Aztec Warlord has a Tepanec mother or grandfather,” answered the adviser calmly, eyes glittering. “Acamapichtli made this man his first Chief Warlord about twenty summers ago, after the series of successful raids led by this warrior against the southern shores of the Great Lake. Having taken many of their lands and plenty of their floating farms for the benefit of Tenochtitlan, this man was advanced into that exalted position, despite him not being a native of Tenochtitlan. In fact, this man seems to have no Mexica blood in him at all. Acamapichtli was unusually open-minded, his only goal - to advance Tenochtitlan whatever the cost. He didn’t mind his Chief Warlord’s origins as long as that one served his needs.” The stocky man paused, looked up at his Emperor. “Oh Revered Emperor, I hope you excuse me, but yesterday, after listening to the insolent way this man talked to you over the evening meal, I made my point to inquire carefully, not among his warriors, but among his slaves.”
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “What did you find out?”
“This man may have been a full-blooded Tepanec, born in Azcapotzalco. He seems to come to Tenochtitlan already a warrior; an elite one. The Tepanec elite warrior, the owner of the brilliant-blue cloak. Some twenty and a half summers ago, he seemed to move to Tenochtitlan, turning into an Aztec warrior and leader. They say Acamapichtli relied on that man entirely, honoring him to the highest degree. They say, he was, indeed, loyal to Acamapichtli, and they think he is loyal to Huitzilihuitl, his successor, as well. And yet…” The man shrugged, glanced up at the Emperor. “And yet, his loyalty could be doubted now that his old Emperor is dead, and the Tepanecs are about to invade our shores.”
Another deep silence prevailed, interrupted only by a buzzing of insects near the shutters.
“A full-blooded Tepanec raised in Azcapotzalco? An elite warrior?” The Emperor’s lips twisted unpleasantly. “That would account for this man’s arrogance,” he said slowly, shaking his head. His gaze encircled them, heavily leaden, ominous. “Well, what would be your advice, my most trusted advisers?”
“Oh Revered Emperor, forgive me if my advice might be poor, but I think we should make him stay here for a few more dawns,” said the first adviser. “And in the meanwhile, we should send a delegation to Huitzilihuitl.”
“To complain of the insolence of his War Leader? To beg for his help? To do what?” The Emperor’s eyes glittered strangely. He already knew the answer, reflected Coyotl. But he wanted them to suggest it. To suggest what?
Th
e second adviser licked his lips. “I agree with the advice of my colleague, Revered Emperor. Huitzilihuitl is young. He can be manipulated. He can be weaned off his father’s War Leader and his advice. If done subtly, we can drive a wedge between Tenochtitlan’s ruler and his Chief Warlord now that this man is here, his influence temporarily removed.” The gaze of the man deepened. “If done subtly, the wedge we will drive would stay in place, widening with every passing day. This man’s loyalty could be doubted now, with the war against his previous people nearing. His unwillingness to join this campaign is understandable, but his motives are personal, and they are not concerned with Tenochtitlan’s welfare.” The man shrugged. “Huitzilihuitl is no Acamapichtli. Once his Chief Warlord is removed, he may prove more cooperative.”
“Removed, eh?” repeated the Emperor. “So you think that without the influence of this Tepanec, Tenochtitlan would join our case?”
“Yes, I think our chances to make them see the rightfulness of our case are greater, oh Revered Emperor.”
Texcocan Chief Warlord took a deep breath. “The man should be executed for his arrogance,” he said stiffly, lips clasped tight. “When he talked to you the way he did last night, oh Revered Emperor, I had a hard time restraining myself. He should not be allowed to live.”
“We cannot execute ambassadors of our friendly neighbors and allies,” said the Emperor lightly, but his gaze, resting upon his advisers, clouded. “We can only lodge our complaint with its Emperor, asking him to send here another of his most trusted people. Can we?”
The voice of the third adviser could barely be heard. “Should something happen to this man while he is here…” His dark gaze dropped. “It would be most embarrassing, but with the war frenzy and so many foreign people around the city… Who knows? If the First Daughter of your Second Wife could be kidnapped in the middle of the day, I’m afraid even the Aztec Warlord would not be entirely safe here.” He shrugged. “Anything could happen in such times.”
Coyotl’s heart missed a beat. So the Emperor knew about Iztac, but he thought she was kidnapped. Oh Gods, make him believe it, he thought, trying to keep his anxiously off his face. Please, don’t let him punish her too severely.
He watched the Emperor as the man nodded, seemingly unperturbed. “I understand. Please, make sure this man is guarded well. Send some of my most trusted warriors to reinforce his personal guards.” The clouded gaze rested upon the second adviser. “I trust you, and should you succeed you will be rewarded.”
Another momentary silence, almost tangible in its heaviness. Then the Emperor’s eyes lost their intensity, shifted to Coyotl. “Nezahualcoyotl, go to the women’s quarters. Tell the Second Wife to come here at once.”
Coyotl swallowed. “Can I please talk to you privately, Revered Emperor?”
The cold eyes did not blink. “Not now. Go.”
***
Seething, Coyotl rushed down the corridors, his worry overwhelming. Iztac was in trouble all right, whether the Emperor believed the kidnapping story or not.
What will they do to her? he wondered, his steps heavy. He knew the answer to that. Troublesome princesses were married off, hastily, and with not much ceremony. She was of age; she would be given away with no additional thought.
He bit his lower lip. Was there something he could do? He could see her sweet heart-shaped face, defiant, mischievous, sparkling with life. Or awash with tears like the last night when she worried, not about herself, but about some boy she might have gotten in trouble. He clenched his teeth. She was so special, and no one saw it, no one save him. He had to find a way to help her!
“Honorable Master!” A pretty maid blocked his way, her cheeks blazing with dark red, eyes cast down.
He halted, looking her up and down curiously. “What do you want?”
“Please, Honorable Master. I am to give you this.” The girl’s hand trembled as she offered him a folded piece of bark-paper.
He took it, puzzled. The paper was small, torn carelessly from a larger piece, the drawing upon it clumsy and unclear. He brought it closer to his eyes, the afternoon light barely reaching the narrow corridor.
“What’s this?” The rough drawing depicted a kneeling figure of a man, probably a warrior judging by the topknot. The strong lines showed the figure’s hands, tied behind its back. The head of the warrior was down. Despite the casual way the picture was done, despite the lack of coloring, the kneeling figure looked desperate. Unlike the proud colorful figures his friend had sent him only two days ago.
His heart missed a beat once again. “Who gave you this?” he rasped, thrusting his face toward her.
The girl’s face lost its color, became as gray as the picture he held. She took a step back, terrified. “I… I… Please, Honorable Master! The boy, he promised you wouldn’t be angry.”
He made an effort to calm down. “I’m not angry. You did nothing wrong. But tell me quickly. Who gave you this? What did he look like? Where did you see him?”
The girl took a convulsive breath. “I… He was just some boy, all blue with bruises. He said if I give you this you would reward me.” She dropped her gaze. “I knew I should not agree.”
“Where is he?”
“In the other wing of the Palace.”
“He is in the Palace?”
As the girl took another step back, bumping her head against the wall, terrified, Coyotl became aware he was shouting. He moderated his tone once again. “Listen, just tell me exactly where he is, and I will reward you just the way he promised.”
“He is… in the other wing of the Palace. Where the Aztec delegation was placed. The Aztec warriors are guarding him.”
“What else?” asked Coyotl, head reeling. How did the Aztecs get hold of him? And why would they bring him to the Texcocan Palace? It didn’t make any sense.
“That’s all,” muttered the girl, eyes firm upon the floor. “He just pleaded with me to give you this.”
Without a word, he turned around and rushed down the corridor, his heart beating fast. There were many servants going in and out of those various sets of room, but they all scattered out of his way. He didn’t notice any of them. The Aztecs? How had the Aztecs gotten him? Oh Gods, those savages would cut his heart out in a matter of a few heartbeats.
“What rooms were allocated to the Aztec delegation?” he asked a slave upon reaching the other side of the Palace. He should have made the maid show him the way.
“Oh, downstairs, Honorable Master,” mumbled the man carefully. “Just down the hall, beside the terrace.”
“Take me there!”
The spotted cloaks of the Aztec warriors were prominent against the whiteness of the plastered wall as the two men squatted beside the wide doorway, playing beans.
Coyotl charged toward them. “Where is your master, the Chief Warlord?” he asked, his anxiety helping him to sound imperious.
One of the warriors rose to his feet, unperturbed. “The Honorable Leader is not here.” The man hesitated, measuring Coyotl with a glance. “He went to meet the local Chief Warlord and some other leaders,” he added, straightening up. “He will be here shortly. Would you like to leave him a message?”
“I want to see his prisoner. Is he here?”
The warriors exchanged quick glances. “What prisoner?”
“The boy he is holding here.” Coyotl pushed his way toward the entrance. “Don’t try playing games with me. As the Emperor’s first son and the heir, the future Emperor of Texcoco, I know everything that is happening in this Palace!” He pushed the wooden screen aside. “And don’t you think to follow me in. Stay here and keep your guard.”
It came out well. As he entered the large, richly furnished rooms, he heard them staying behind, curiously subdued.
He crossed the room hurriedly, still finding it difficult to believe he would find his friend here, in the heart of the Palace, guarded by the elite Aztec warriors. Yet, there could be no mistake in the familiar figure squatting in the far corner, near the rect
angular opening in the wall, crouching above another piece of a bark-paper.
“So you did get my message?” The widely spaced eyes sparkled with amusement, radiating their usual slightly challenging twinkle out of the broad, badly bruised and swollen face.
Coyotl just gaped, studying the bruises, the cuts, the large crusted gash upon the wide forehead, another cut crossing the strong chin.
“Yes, I did,” he said when able to talk. “You crazy piece of dung, what happened to you?”
The smile widened. “All sorts of adventures, as you can see. But I did get to see the Palace.”
“How? Did they catch you yesterday on the marketplace?” He eyed the sling holding his friend’s left arm in place, the painfully colorful patterns of bruises upon his limbs and around his ribs, naked except for the loincloth and sandals.
“Well, no. Not exactly. It’s quite a long story, really.” The smile kept spreading. “You should see yourself now. Staring at me all shocked and indignant, like a virgin shown a big one.”
“I thought you were safely on your way home. When I didn’t find you on the hill, I thought you just left.” He clenched his fists. “Stop laughing. It’s not funny. How did you get into this mess?”
“It’s a long story, and anyway, I’m on my way out of it, I think. The worst seems to be over.”
“Not to me. You are in the Aztecs’ hands, under the personal guard of their Chief Warlord. What can be worse than that?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. To be held by your people was far less pleasant, you know. All this colorful mess of my body was their doing, including the broken arm and the open head.” He shrugged, still grinning. “Not that those Aztecs are any fonder of me, but their leader thinks I have potential, so they treat me nicely so far.”
“The Chief Warlord?”
“Yes, him. A fascinating man.”
“An arrogant, cheeky frog-eater!”
“Oh, yes, that too,” agreed Kuini, good-naturedly.