Feathered Serpent, Dark Heart of Sky

by David Bowles

  “We wonder what gifts our grandparents have given you. Perhaps the Lord of the Near and the Nigh will favor you with some ability, some small role to play. But it is equally possible you were born without merit. It could be you are destined for corruption and sin. We cannot know what was bound to you before the dawn.

  “Ah, but precious necklace, rest while you may. Your struggle was long. Here you see your family gathered. You have arrived at last into their hands. Do not weep. You will endure for a time. You are a prince of the Mexica, and you will shoulder the burden of life as long as it lasts. Perhaps you have only come for a moment. It may be that our grandparents will summon you home to paradise, having given us but a glimpse of your face. Whatever the outcome, we await the word of our god.”

  The midwife then cut the umbilical cord and swaddled the child, handing him to the king. Later, as was tradition, a male of the family would bury the cord and afterbirth in the heart of a battlefield, ensuring the child’s stature as a warrior. The family members all respectfully addressed the baby, giving elaborate advice and reminding him of his duty.

  Partway through the ritual, the baby began to scream in fury. No one could silence him. His face went beet red, and he kicked viciously in his father’s hands.

  “I know his name,” Huitzilihuitl announced as he laid the boy at his mother’s breast, where he began to feed between bitter snarls. “Tlacaelel—furious man.”

  The same routine was repeated within a few hours when Miahuaxihuitl, princess of Cuauhnahuac, gave birth to Huitzilihuitl’s third son. This baby, though he did not scream and kick during the speeches, wrinkled his brow and frowned at everyone, clenching his little fists.

  “Another angry one,” laughed the king. “Good. We will name him after the father of ancient Mexitli. Behold Motecuhzoma—enraged prince.”

  The royal diviners consulted the Book of Days and urged ritual bathing three mornings hence rather than four in order to avoid an inauspicious date. Artisans prepared a little shield and four arrows for each baby out of amaranth dough, as well as a little breechclout and cape. On the appointed day, the boys were taken to the palace courtyard when the sun had just begun to rise above the horizon. All the nobles of Tenochtitlan were gathered round a basin where the midwife, facing west, began to bathe Tlacaelel.

  “O warrior, beloved son, you have arrived among us, sent down from the highest heavens by the Dual God. Your soul was wrought there above, and our beloved prince Quetzalcoatl gave form to your flesh in your mother’s womb. Now, with the help of the goddess Chalchiuhtlicue, you take your place in the human realm.”

  Pouring water upon him, she continued. “Taste it, receive it. This liquid sustains all life. It purifies as well, washing away the filth from our hearts. Let the deep green of this water penetrate deep in your soul, removing the evil with which you were arrayed from the beginning of time.”

  Once he had been cleansed, the midwife lifted him four times to the skies, offering him to the gods: first to our grandparents, next to the Divine Mother and Protector, then to the host at Teotihuacan, and finally to the sun. Drawing forth the amaranth weapons, she asked Huitzilopochtli to provide him with the prowess necessary to shine on the battlefield and attain paradise. Then she repeated this rite with his younger half-brother.

  Finally the midwife addressed each by name: “O Tlacaelel! O Motecuhzoma! Take your shield, your arrows, the spears: all the weapons that gladden the sun!”

  She bent to tie on their capes and bind their breechclouts. While she was busy, their older brother Itzcoatl, quick as a flash though just nine summers old, snatched up Tlacaelel’s dried umbilical cord and ran off with it in his mouth.

  “O Tlacaelel, little brother, learn the ways of the battlefield! Your flesh is not your own. It will be stripped from you, and you will be honored! Your works and death will gladden the sun, giving him food and drink. Now hear me call the fallen: come, eagle warriors and jaguar knights! Come and take the umbilical cord of Prince Tlacaelel. Eat his flesh and be content!”

  Once weaned and able to speak, the three brothers—Chimalpopoca, Tlacaelel and Motecuhzoma—spent considerable time at their father’s side, learning the ways of noblemen in Mexica society. Huitzilihuitl was very stern with them and gave them quite a bit of responsibility, punishing them harshly with agave thorns or the smoke of burning chili peppers when they shirked their duties or did not conform to the highly formalized norms of behavior and speech of the nobility.

  The boys did, of course, have time to play like all children, learning games of chance and the ever-important sport played on the ball court. They also practiced archery and the throwing of spears, matching themselves against the sons of other nobles.

  Their aunt Matlalcihuatzin, Huitzilihuitl’s young sister, was married to King Ixtlilxochitl of Texcoco. When the brothers were four, she had a child named Nezahualcoyotl. From time to time, Matlalcihuatzin would visit Tenochtitlan. The brothers doted on their toddling cousin.

  Schooling

  When thirteen sacred years of 260 days had passed since their birth, Motecuhzoma and Tlacaelel were summoned by their father. The nine-year-olds stood before him, their mothers, and the elder nobles in the throne room, listening as the king informed them of the next step in their lives as princes.

  “Listen, my sons. Our spiritual sovereign, the Lord of the Near and the Nigh, has placed you here. Though you issued from my loins, though you were carried in your mother’s womb, the Lord of Creation is the one who rears us all. He brings true understanding and punishment.

  “So, then, understand me—when you were still swaddled babes, we dedicated you as an offering to the calmecac, the holy school of nobles. You will report there immediately to begin your studies and your sacred tasks, the sweeping and cleaning done on behalf of our beloved prince Quetzalcoatl, lord of learning. Again, you are offerings. You belong to the god. You are his property.

  “Ah, nail of my finger, hair of my head! You boys are no longer dependent on your mothers, who fed and changed you as infants. You are strong, capable of self-defense and cunning. So go now to your new home, that house of weeping, where all nobles send their sons to be cast and drilled like precious beads. Soon you will blossom, you will sprout like quetzal feathers, and the Giver of Life will set you in his holy headdress as he sees fit.

  “When the night is darkest and your sobs most intense, remember that from that holy school emerge the rulers of this city, men with authority, warriors of the great sodalities. So work diligently, without sloth. Accept the austere life with humility and stay away from vice. Let hunger be your guide. Mortify the flesh with agave spines, and let it suffer cold. Only your mind and heart matter there. Learn everything you can. Make your family, your tribe, your city proud.”

  At the calmecac, the boys joined Chimalpopoca, who had already entered 260 days previously. Like all noble youth, they lived at the school with the priests. Their early years were largely spent performing chores—sweeping, cleaning, carrying wood for the fires, mixing paint for ritual use, making repairs to the temples, and tending to the school’s crops. Food was strictly rationed, but the boys never complained about hunger. They ran immediately to a priest’s side when called, did the fasting and penance required, woke up in the small hours of the night to ritually sweep. They were the princes of Tenochtitlan, and their only flaw was barely restrained pride.

  They learned the history of their nation, studied the painted codices that had been painstakingly preserved down the long centuries. The priests taught them the calendar counts, and together they pored over the Book of Days. They memorized all the sacred hymns, all the holy rites required to keep the gods content and the cosmic wheels turning. Math, engineering, agriculture, law, political science—the young princes were instructed in every branch of knowledge they would need to rule Tenochtitlan.

  As they grew older, the boys went through a rigorous physical regimen under the leadership of young warriors and seasoned veterans, learning martial arts and pu
shing their bodies to their physical limits. They became adept at all the weapons used by warriors of the time as well as tactical maneuvers and command.

  Each youth stood out in a different field. Chimalpopoca, normally quieter and more introspective, leaned toward administration and diplomacy. Tlacaelel, perhaps the most intelligent young man to ever attend the school, was drawn to the sciences and religious ritual, as well as military strategy. Motecuhzoma was the best warrior of the three, demonstrating incredible skill with weapons and an amazing ability to inspire others.

  When they were allowed visits, Nezahualcoyotl was occasionally vacationing in the city. His admiration for his older cousins was clear. Eventually he entered the calmecac in Texcoco, however, so the four had less contact.

  By the time they were sixteen, the brothers began participating in skirmishes. Eventually they were named tiachcauhuan or student leaders, responsible for showing the new arrivals the ropes. Tlacaelel even rose to the position of telpochtlahtoh or student teacher, empowered to govern and correct his fellows. With astounding speed, the brothers racked up four captives each, earning themselves the title mexihcatl tequihua, proven Mexica warrior. Their proud father presented them with their own gear, armor, and insignia.

  They had, in essence, graduated.

  War with the Tepaneca

  The relationship between Azcapotzalco and Tenochtitlan had improved significantly during the eighteen years of Huitzilihuitl’s reign. King Tezozomoc, while expanding the Tepaneca Empire north and east, had eased tribute requirements for the Mexica at his daughter’s request, especially as his grandson would likely be the next ruler of Tenochtitlan. But in exchange, Tezozomoc required the assistance of his son-in-law in waging war against the Acolhua nation, in whose capital city lived Huitzilihuitl’s own sister, Matlalcihuatzin, Queen of Texcoco.

  Not long after the brothers had left the calmecac, sadly, Chimalpopoca’s mother died. Both her native and adoptive cities mourned the passing of the queen. No sooner had their grief subsided, however, when Huitzilihuitl was slain in battle by the forces of his own brother-in-law King Ixtlilxochitl.

  The calpoleh and other leaders of the city once again came together to select a new king. Given the relationship with Azcapotzalco, the choice was simple: Chimalpopoca was nominated and acclaimed by his people, anointed and set upon his throne.

  Almost immediately, Chimalpopoca took up his grandfather’s cause, which had the added bite of revenge. The young king eventually besieged Texcoco and drove his uncle into the sparse forest at the foot of Mount Tlaloc. There, while sixteen-year-old Nezahualcoyotl watched helplessly from the branches of a tree, Mexica warriors killed the Acolhuan king.

  During the protracted war, Tlacaelel and Motecuhzoma displayed amazing skill fighting and leading men. Their older brother promoted them to higher positions of authority in the army. Tezozomoc granted Texcoco to Tenochtitlan as a tributary in recognition of Chimalpopoca’s loyalty. Nezahualcoyotl, however, went into hiding in the mountains near Huexotzinco, unsure of his cousin’s feelings toward him but certain that the Tepaneca wanted him dead.

  After long campaigns against Chalco that ended in an uneasy truce, Tlacaelel married Princess Maquitzin of Amaquemecan, a Chalcan city-state. She would be his only wife and would bear him more than a dozen children, including a daughter, Macuilxochitzin, who would become famous for her poetry. The prince had proven himself on the battlefield and was given the symbolic staff of justice with its attendant title: topileh or constable. He helped the king to enforce laws and mete out justice in Tenochtitlan.

  Aided by his uncle, General Itzcoatl, Chimalpopoca began construction of a causeway that would span the nearly four miles between his city and Tlacopan, a Tepanecan port near Azcapotzalco. At the urging of his brothers, the Mexica king also approached his grandfather and interceded with him on behalf of Nezahualcoyotl, convincing Tezozomoc to allow the Acolhuan prince to live in Tenochtitlan under Chimalpopoca’s protection and watchful eye.

  Finally Chimalpopoca requested his aging grandfather’s permission to build an aqueduct from Chapultepec Hill and financial support to construct the project out of wood. Tezozomoc agreed, but this generosity did not sit well with his sons, many of whom ruled different cities in the Tepanecan Empire. Especially displeased was Maxtla, King of Coyoacan. To him the Mexica were mere vassals, undeserving of the gifts the emperor bestowed on them.

  Tezozomoc died at last in 1426 after a reign of some four score years. His son Tayatzin succeeded him, but Maxtla incited a rebellion among the nobles of Azcapotzalco and seized the throne. Chimalpopoca sided with Tayatzin, and the two conspired together to kill Maxtla and retake Azcapotzalco. Seeking the support of the oppressed Acolhuans, the allied kings attempted to install Nezahualcoyotl as king of Texcoco. But their plans soured: Nezahualcoyotl was repulsed by Tepanecan forces, and Tayatzin was killed.

  Fearing for his city and his people, Chimalpopoca sought to appease Emperor Maxtla by ritually sacrificing himself at his father’s temple, but the king was captured and taken to Azcapotzalco. There he was displayed in a cage and slowly starved, until he found a means to end his own life and preserve some dignity.

  News of Chimalpopoca’s death reached Tenochtitlan, filling most citizens with fear. Tlacaelel, however, was gripped by a cold rage. The nobles of the city offered the kingship to Motecuhzoma, but he deferred to his higher-ranking uncle, Itzcoatl. The newly elected king, along with his council, saw no alternative. They could not take on the entire Tepanecan Empire.

  “We will submit completely to Emperor Maxtla,” the leaders declared. “To avoid annihilation, it is best that we take our god, Huitzilopochtli, and go to place ourselves in the hands of our uncle so that he may do with us as he wishes. Some of us yet may live. Perhaps he will pardon a few, and we can live there in Azcapotzalco as slaves.”

  Tlacaelel stood, appalled, and addressed the older men gathered for the deliberation. “What is this, Mexica brothers? What are you doing? You have lost all reason. Wait. Still your hearts. Let us look upon this matter with rational minds. What cowardice abounds in Tenochtitlan that you feel we must go interweave ourselves with the Azcapotzalca!” Turning to the king, he said, “Sire, what is this? How can you permit such a thing? Speak to this your people. Let us seek a means for defending ourselves and our honor. Let us not offer ourselves in such a humiliating fashion to our enemies.”

  Itzcoatl turned to his council. “Are you still determined to go to Azcapotzalco? It seems to me now a very ignominious act. I say we strike a blow for our nation’s honor. Here you are gathered, all the Tenochca lords: uncles, brothers, nephews of mine, each highly esteemed by our people. Who among you will dare to go before the Emperor to learn what he has determined? If they are decided upon destroying us irrevocably, if they feel no compassion for the straits in which we find ourselves, then here you are, brothers. One of you must stand and go. Shrug off your fear, Mexica!”

  No one volunteered, each frightened by the prospect of death. So Tlacaelel stood and declared boldly, “Good Lord my King, let not your heart be troubled. Do not lose hope. As our male kindred here seem content to simply stare at each other, refusing to respond to your entreaties, I offer myself as ambassador to Emperor Maxtla or wherever else serves your purpose. I do not fear death. We all must die. It matters little whether that destiny befalls us today or tomorrow. For what occasion should I keep myself alive? Where else will my life be put to better use than here, at this moment? I choose to die honorably in defense of my homeland! Send me, my lord. I wish to go.”

  King Itzcoatl rose and embraced Tlacaelel. “I marvel, dear nephew, at your spirit and your determined heart. In payment for your courage and dedication, I promise to shower you with gifts, such as this, the greatest in my power: should you die on this mission, your children will never want for anything, so that they forever remember you and this day, when you alone elected to lay down your life for the honor of our nation.”

  Tlacaelel, looking around at the
cowed yet furious faces of his fellow princes, stood tall and strode away. He crossed the causeway into Tlacopan. From there, he approached the heavily guarded entrance to Azcapotzalco.

  “What’s this?” exclaimed one of the guards. “Look who’s come calling! Aren’t you the nephew of Itzcoatl, king of the Mexica? Name of Tlacaelel?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, where do you think you’re going? Don’t you know, m’lord, that we’ve been expressly ordered not to let any of the Mexica enter this city? We’re supposed to kill you instead!”

  “I know your orders, but you surely understand that messengers are not to blame. I have been sent to speak to the Emperor on behalf of the Tenochca king and his council, so I entreat you to let me pass. I swear I will return by this same gate. If you still wish to kill me, I will put myself in your hands. Yet let me convey my message first: I assure you that there will be no reprisals.”

  Persuaded, they let him enter. He went before the Emperor and made the proper show of respect. Maxtla, recognizing Tlacaelel, was rather surprised.

  “What way into the city did you use that kept you from being killed by my guards?”

  Tlacaelel explained what had happened. The Emperor received the news with a sober, impassive countenance.

  “What is it that you want, nephew?”

  “I entreat Your Imperial Majesty to show mercy on Tenochtitlan. My brother’s rebellion was ill-considered and has cost us dearly. Our elderly and children suffer from your embargoes. Our city still reels from the mighty blows of your army. We seek an end to hostilities now Itzcoatl has been crowned king. Can Your Imperial Majesty not work to soften the hearts of your war council? Can we not go back to serving you as we once did?”

  Maxtla appeared moved by this plea. “Go with my blessing, nephew. Though I can promise nothing, I will speak to my council and to my brothers, the Tepanecan kings. Understand, however, that the decision is not in my hands. It may be that your overture is rebuffed.”