Reaching the top of that level, he paused for breath. “It is a good thing I do not weigh what I used to son.”
“Your body has gotten lighter, but your soul is still full father. You chose the right night, the omens are good.”
They stood there, side by side, for a moment, gazing at a brilliant full moon just rising over the other edge of the canyon, illuminating the broad mesa that stretched away far into the distance. A lonely wolf howled somewhere on the opposite ledge, and another further away answered. Tlanextic lowered the rope again and brought up the supplies, then his mother.
They followed an ancient foot path, which funneled them to an easily protected point where stood a guard tower, and tread carefully on the narrow ledge past it. Finally they were all standing in front of a stone palace masterfully built into the cliff, the barely visible and well protected home of the old ones. This was a well-chosen place that could be easily defended by but a few determined warriors. It contained innumerable rooms, tucked into every crevice, some three or four stories high. No space was wasted. There were hundreds of such stone dwellings hidden in cliffs throughout the area, but this was the largest and best preserved.
As a fire was made and a last meal prepared, Asupacaci finally spoke. “I choose this place because the Spanish never found it. The old ones left long before even the Navajo came here, so it is sacred and a good place to rest our souls. You will prepare us in the traditional way I have taught you and hide our bodies deep within. And then you must never return.”
Asupacaci paused, wanting to make sure his directions were perfectly clear and completely understood. Tlanextic nodded at his father, looking back at him across smoke of the fire, through his piercing green eyes. Asupacaci continued. “I am going to tell you our story one last time, that you may remember it and tell your son, who may tell his.”
His brow furrowed in concentration, Asupacaci recounted how his father, the great Montezuma, had ruled a fabulous empire from the throne of their island city of Tenochtitlán far to the south. That the strange foreigners called Spaniards had come, and through duplicity, magic weapons and disease, had killed his father and family, and were about to topple the Aztec empire. That was when his uncle Cuitláhuac sent Asupacaci on his sacred mission to preserve the legacy of their people. To throw the Spanish off the trail his uncle wisely sent out other false expeditions and did not even know or want to know where Asupacaci would ultimately go.
In a soft voice and with a laugh Asupacaci told of the warrior general Cipactli who accompanied him, and how his large head reminded him of a crocodile. How Huitzilin, the flitting Hummingbird leader of the scouts, provided intelligence to keep the expedition safe. He told of the friendship he formed with Friar Rodrìguez, how he had learned from him, and that while not all Spanish were evil, gold drove them mad. And finally how Xicohtencatl, the Angry Bumblebee, had caught a wild pony and gifted it to Asupacaci, and protected him to his very last breath.
“That wild pony was the grandfather of the horse you now ride so proudly. The same color, the same strength, the same intelligence. Keep the bloodline of that horse going, just as you must continue mine.”
It was Tlanextic’s turn to smile, of the many tales his father had regaled him with over the years, some over and over again, he had never heard the one about the pony. He sat in rapt attention, as there was no telling what other final secrets might be revealed tonight.
The story shifted to the treacherous journey north, through the lands of the Chichimeca, the Coahuiltecan, and finally of the fateful encounter with the Chiricahua Apache, when Asupacaci feared all was about to be lost.
“We were surrounded in a valley where the walls had closed in, at a place they rolled boulders down the hills to block the trail. We could neither go forward nor back, and so prepared to die, to give our lives dearly, and waited for them to attack. The air was stifling, we had little water or shade. But after being harassed for two settings of the sun, they suddenly stopped. A procession came down from the hills, with our Coahuiltecan guides in their midst. One was carried dead, one dragged barely alive. We had thought the guides were traitors and had led us into a trap, but we were wrong. The guides had been taken captive by the Apache because they could speak their language, and the Apache tortured them to learn the truth of our intentions.”
Asupacaci paused and coughed, he wasn’t used to talking this much anymore, his strength steadily ebbing away. Kaya wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and brought him a gourd of water, which he sipped and then continued.
“But what was the truth? That a terrible storm was coming that would sweep up everything before it as leaves before the wind? That an evil god would blow pestilence and disease in advance of their cursed warriors? The Apache Chief believed he had heard truth from the mouths of the tortured guides. They could not lie with what they did to them. And he examined the few Spaniards we had left, their pallid skin, their strange beards, the horses that pulled the wagons, and the Spanish weapons we brought. He saw the truth in it and knew that he must prepare his own people. We gave him tribute and the last of the Spaniards except for the Friar, and he granted us safe passage.”
Despite his failing body he was caught up in the tale, the passion building in his voice, as he knew this was the last time it would be told by one who had directly experienced it. He must pass the story on orally with as much detail as possible and do so accurately. The codices he had painstakingly left behind only told so much of the story. He paused to catch his breath and took another sip of water.
“Northward we went, staying away from any rivers the Spanish might use. We followed footpaths and trails, and even found some ancient walkways. Over time we learned these were made by the old ones, the ones who built places like this palace hidden in the cliffs. None of the tribes we encountered knew who the old ones were or what had become of them, but they left behind great stone houses and monuments, worn down by time. We traveled on for months, our numbers dwindling the further we advanced.”
Tlanextic nodded at his father, concentrating hard to etch the tale deep into his memory. Asupacaci paused, gathering his thoughts and the strength to continue.
“We passed through a place named Paquimé, then eventually came to a large area of many cliff dwellings called Gila. That is where Friar Rodrìguez died, worn out from the journey. I hid him deep in a cliff palace much like this one, but smaller. While I curse what his people did, he showed me there were honorable men among them. Perhaps that means some measure of hope for the future.”
“We went further to a place called Hawikuh. The distance we could go was dependent on the strength of the horses, and we were lucky to find good grazing along the way. We buried our dead in unmarked graves, left no offerings or trinkets that would betray our passing.”
“Finally, we came to what was the center of the world of the old ones, that the natives called Chaco. They had great houses of many rooms made of stone, but on flat ground, not in the cliffs as here. They had large round rooms the Navajo called Kivas, which was where they honored their gods. It was a magnificent place, and our horses were worn out and our number few. So we searched until we found a deep cave, and inside the air was dry and still, with only dust and old bones on the floor. The omens said this was the place, that it was safe, that it would preserve all we had. We put all that was valuable deep within it, and then sealed the entrance and covered our tracks so none would ever find it.
“With empty carts we continued on, further north. I wanted to leave nothing that could point to where we hid our people’s history. The distance and journey took their toll, until finally we could go no further. There was a single strange shaped mountain right here, with a long ridge, almost like a tail. I took it as a sign from the gods telling me to stop, the trail ends here.”
“We scattered what horses remained except for my pony, and stacked the wagons and all our possessions into a funeral pyre in a dry riverbed. Only a few of the strongest warriors were still with me. One by o
ne they lay down their lives as I offered their hearts to the gods, until only my loyal Bumblebee was left.
We put all their bodies on top of the pyre, and then Bumblebee lay across them and handed me his obsidian blade. I made a final offering, of my most faithful warrior, and cried. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried, I must have been a child, but I cried for him, for all who made the journey, for the people of Tenochtitlán, for the souls of our ancestors. And then I lit the pyre and knew that the spring rains would eventually flood the river basin and wash the ashes away, and it would be as if we had never been.”
“I sat there by the ashes for days, waiting for the gods to take me too. Time stopped for me. I no longer knew where I was. I don’t even remember the Navajo finding me. They said that I talked in a babbling language they couldn’t understand, that the gods must have touched me. They looked at the great pile of ashes and bone and said I had to possess big magic to burn down the desert and all my enemies. They took me in and brought me even further north. When I regained my strength I decided to survive a little longer, to ensure the Spanish never found the treasure of our ancestors. They accepted me, and I lived with them for years as a shaman, an odd holy man who had knowledge and magic they did not, who worshiped other gods.”
A deep racking cough interrupted Asupacaci, and as he gathered himself, Kaya rested her head on his good shoulder. Tlanextic could still see the fierce pride in her eyes, her belief in the soul mate she had and the life she had lived.
“One day a group of traders came through, and one of their slaves threw himself at my feet. He was Aztec, and called me Tlanahuatihqui, great leader. It had been so very long since anyone called me that. He had escaped from Tenochtitlán by fleeing north, was captured, and traded from tribe to tribe. He recognized me as belonging to the royal family and told what had happened. A great battle had been fought, with Cortés and his allies coming back and besieging Tenochtitlán after I had left. They built strange, large ships to sail and surround our city on Lake Texcoco, our war canoes no match for them. Like an anaconda they slowly strangled the survivors into smaller and smaller spaces, until there was none left. Many thousands died on both sides, but in the end our people were massacred and enslaved. Our great place of sacrifice, the Hueteocalli Temple, was destroyed, and their house of worship built on top of it. My uncle, Cuitláhuac, the last leader of the Aztecs, was executed.” Asupacaci took a moment to regain his breath.
“The slave died soon after he told me this. It was as if he had survived all his hardships only long enough to pass the tale to me, his sacred duty finally fulfilled. I went south, back to the place of the ashes, to check that all was safe and undisturbed. The ashes were gone, washed out, only bits of metal and bone remained. These I buried, and I fasted that I might know what destiny the gods now held for me. I finally had a vision from our ancestors showing me the way, what must be done. And what I saw was a son, who would live with the Navajo, but always keep the language and the old ways of his ancestors alive. That would be our legacy, that the Spanish might not stamp us completely off the face of mother earth, that our royal bloodline would survive forever more. I told the Navajo Chief of my vision, and he gifted me his only daughter so I would not have to live alone, so that my bloodline could go on.”
Tlanextic looked at his mother and smiled.
“Kaya taught me their language, their customs, how to survive in this land, and finally gifted you to me. I in turn taught them the Aztec knowledge of crops, horses, warfare, and much about the Spanish who must surely come this way some day.”
He paused, his voice now barely a whisper, and with great effort took an object off from around his neck with the shaky hand of his one good arm.
“Take this necklace and wear it always, as I have done. It is a talisman, a reminder, of the glory from whence we came. You, son, are now the last of the house of Montezuma.”
Passing along what looked like a single gold link on a thin rope, Asupacaci sat back, utterly exhausted. Kaya still leaned against him, a faint smile on her lips, a single tear trickling down her cheek.
Fighting back his own emotions, yet proud of all his parents had been through, Tlanextic reverently put the necklace around his own neck. He then gave each of them a long drink of the bitter tasting poison that had been carefully prepared for this night.
Asupacaci and Kaya sat contentedly in silence, holding one hand together, the light of the full moon giving them a ghostlike appearance, as if their spirits were about to drift away in the breeze. Time passed, the fire faded to a glowing bed of embers, the brilliant moon edged across the sky, and Kaya slowly closed her eyes, and breathed no more.
Asupacaci looked at her, unwilling to let go of her hand and sighed heavily, then nodded to his son, closing his own eyes for the final time. The warmth of the embers seemed to penetrate not just his wrinkled, leathery skin, but the very soul of his being. He felt his mortal body melt away, he was light as a quetzal feather drifting in the wind, drifting far to the south, over deserts and canyons, mountains and rivers, to territory so familiar it made his heart ache, finally descending toward the sacred Lake Texcoco.
He saw his father seated on a magnificent throne in his regal headdress smile and nod at him, ruling in the heart of the world, in Tenochtitlán. Nobles in fantastic colored robes surrounded Montezuma and paid him homage, bound captives bowed before him, while slaves served him drinks cooled by the snow from distant mountains. Colorful parrots flittered about as the sounds of animals in the nearby zoo could be heard over the din of the crowd. He felt his mother’s hand, Queen Teotlalco’s, on his shoulder, smelled her favorite perfume, could taste on his tongue the banquet feast that had been prepared, and heard his brothers’ familiar voices calling out and teasing him. It had been so very long since he had been here, yet every detail came back to him like it was only yesterday, vivid to all his senses.
He slowly breathed it all in before exhaling one last time, a slight smile of contentment upon his lips. He was home at long last having completed his odyssey to save the soul of his people, forever.
Asupacaci’s One True Journey
Principle Cast of Characters
Present Day
Ahaiyuta – Zuni for Morning Star, guard to tribal elders
Albert (Al) LaBounty – Father of Nick LaBounty
Alexandre LaBounty – Distant relative of Nick LaBounty
Atsa – Navajo for Eagle, musician
Bidzii – Navajo for Strong One, leader of Navajo blues band
Charles (Charlie) LaBounty – Nick’s older brother
Chico (Francisco) Martinez – Mexican Department of Antiquities
Dr. Carlos Lòpez – Director of National Museum of Anthropology
Dr. Philip Storm – Nick’s mentor in college and PhD Advisor
Dr. Rojas – Pioneering Mexican DNA specialist
Eztli (Esteban) González – Nahuatl for Blood, Cartel Boss of Bosses
Huehue – Nahuatl for Ancient One, Writer of Codices
Javier Hernández – Right hand of Cartel Boss Eztli González
Josephine LaBounty – Mother of Nick LaBounty
Juan Ramirez – Spanish Minister of Culture
Lonan – Zuni for Cloud, respected tribal elder
Miguel González – Brother of Cartel Boss Eztli González, Enforcer
Nanook – Inuit for Master of Bears, Soba’s domesticated wolf
Nick LaBounty – Aspiring Archeologist and PhD Student
Raúl Concepción – Student Assistant to Dr. Carlos Lòpez
Robert Sommers – Director of the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA)
Soba (Altsoba) – Navajo for At War, Tribal Shaman and Linguist
Sophie LaBounty –Wife of Charles LaBounty, Registered Nurse
Willard Bashant – Acting Director of the Department of the Interior
Tahoma – Navajo for Water’s Edge, roadie for the band
Yas – Navajo for Snow, musician
Time of the Conquest (1
521)
Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca – Survivor who walked across Southwest
Antonio de Ciudad Rodrigo – One of New World’s first Missionaries
Asupacaci – Third son of Montezuma
Bartolomé de las Casas – Bishop who championed Indigenous Rights
Charles V – King of Spain, Castile and Aragon, Holy Roman Emperor Chimalpopoca – First son of Montezuma
Cipactli – Nahuatl for Crocodile, Warrior General
Cuitláhuac – Last Ruler of the Aztecs, younger brother of Montezuma
El Capitán – Conquistador leader who accompanied Cortés
Francisco Coronado – Conquistador and explorer seeking Cibola
Fray Garcia – Franciscan priest in Chiapas region
Friar Rodrìguez – Spanish Priest who accompanied Cortés
Hernán Cortés – Spanish Leader, conqueror of Aztec Empire
Kaya – Navajo for Wise Child, wife of Asupacaci
Huitzilin – Nahuatl for Hummingbird, Warrior Leader of the Scouts
La Malinche – Interpreter and courtesan of Cortés
Marcos de Niza – Franciscan priest who claimed to see Cibola
Montezuma – Emperor of the Aztecs
Pánfilo de Narváez – Led ill-fated expedition to La Florida
Queen Teotlalco – Wife of Montezuma, mother of Asupacaci
Tlaltecatzin – Second son of Montezuma
Tlanextic – Nahuatl for Light of Dawn, Asupacaci’s son
Xicohtencatl – Nahuatl for Angry Bumblebee, Jaguar Knight
Xólotl – Leader of the Chichimeca
Aztec Odyssey Page 40