The Lost Diary of Montezuma's Soothsayer

by Clive Dickinson

  August 10th, 1519

  They are coming!

  They left the coast two days ago, so the runner says. He jogged into the city today carrying the message in the split stick that messengers use. Monty’s spies say hundreds of Indians are with the hairy god and his army.

  The half-man, half-deer monsters are heading this way. Some of them are pulling what look like tables riding on big see-through discs which roll along the road. The messenger said people had heard the hairy god’s servants calling the discs ‘wheels’. What on earth can they be?

  September 24th, 1519

  I’ve been feeling too depressed to write anything in this diary for ages. News has come in most days from the spies about the hairy god and his army. Whoever is leading them here is taking them a long way round, but it doesn’t seem to have put him off, more’s the pity.

  However, today’s news is so bad I must write it down. The hairy god and his small army have fought battles against the great armies of our enemies, the Tlaxcalans, and they have won every one of them! Now the people of Tlaxcala have joined the hairy god and the other Indians to fight against us.

  Monty’s armies have never won a war against the Tlaxcalans, but the spies say it only took a few of the half-men, half-deer monsters, and the metal tree trunks that shoot fire, to scare them away.

  The shiny metal sticks they use are powerful weapons too. Our clubs with sharp, jagged chips of stone fitted along the edges don’t seem much use against them. The big difference in these battles is that the hairy god and his army kill as many of the enemy as they can. Aztecs don’t fight battles to do that. The whole point of battles is to capture prisoners, so that the priests can sacrifice them to the gods, to thank the gods for the suffering they had when they made the world. The priests get through thousands of sacrifices every year. If we didn’t have prisoners to offer, I know who’d soon be climbing up the temple steps to say goodbye to this world. And I want to stay around for a good long time yet.

  The only good news is that the Tlaxcalans killed the deer parts of two of the half-men, half-deer monsters. If they can be killed, they can’t be gods, because the gods cannot die. Maybe there’s hope for we Aztecs after all.

  October 31st, 1519

  More bad news.

  A message has come from Cholula, the holy city about eighty miles away. Hundreds of people have been killed by the hairy god’s army and the Indians fighting with them. What makes it even more frightening is that they were killed in the temple of Quetzalcoatl himself. If the hairy god is Quetzalcoatl, what’s he doing killing the lords and people of Cholula in his own temple? And if he isn’t the god Quetzalcoatl, who is he?

  Monty’s in a total panic. There’s nothing we can do to stop them marching right into Tenochtitlan. Maybe Monty thinks he can deal with them once they’re here in the city. Let’s hope he’s right.

  The way things are looking, I might be tempted to go up the pyramid to offer myself to the priests as a sacrifice. Some people do and they get a great send off, with fabulous feasting and parties and all the riches and comfort they want before they go.

  That sounds a better way to make my journey to the gods than fighting against the hairy god with his terrible fire-shooting tree trunks and shiny metal fighting sticks.

  November 8th, 1519

  After all the waiting and all the messages from spies along the way, the hairy god, his army and the Indians that have been fighting with them have arrived. They left the coast nearly three months ago. They have fought and beaten our strongest enemies on the way and now they are here, in Tenochtitlan. I think I need several cups of pulque.

  Monty went out to meet them himself. I had to go along too, though I wasn’t thrilled at the idea. I could smell the danger.

  I don’t know who was the most amazed by the sight that met our eyes – we Aztecs or the visitors. Thousands of people from the capital and the towns around the shores of the lake paddled their canoes beside the straight causeways to stare at them, as the hairy god and his followers marched towards the city. All the Aztecs were terrified by the half-man, half-deer creatures, especially having seen that the hairy god had turned into one. But he suddenly turned into a man again and jumped down onto the ground to stand by the half-deer part, which was as tall as he was.

  The visitors seemed pretty surprised by what they saw. Tenochtitlan is quite a sight with its tall pyramids and rich palaces. The city looks like a jewel, surrounded by the water of the lake. Then there are the smaller cities and towns all round the shore with their little green fields raised above the water, and people everywhere. There are more than 250,000 people living in Tenochtitlan alone.

  No wonder the hairy god and his followers looked surprised. Oh, yes – we Aztecs are a pretty amazing bunch!

  Montezuma had dressed up in his best Great Speaker kit. He looked magnificent as he was carried by four Aztec lords, under a covering of green feathers decorated with gold, silver and pearls. When he got out of his chair we could see his sandals with gold soles. But they never actually touched the ground because servants put down mats for him to walk on. None of us dared look at his face, of course, but we all sneaked glances when he went by.

  The hairy god was standing by the half-deer monster when Monty reached him. Marina, the Indian woman I’d met at the coast, translated what they said to each other. It was all very polite. The hairy god put a necklace of coloured beads strung on a golden cord round Monty’s neck. I thought we were in for a spot of bother when he went to give Monty a hug. But the Aztec lords stopped him just in time. It does seem an odd way for a god to behave.

  Anyhow, Monty welcomed him and invited him to stay in one of the poshest palaces in Tenochtitlan – the one Monty’s dad had lived in, no less. It’s one of the best palaces in the city, in one of the best areas, right beside the grand square in the centre of the city, close to the great pyramid where the sacrifices take place. It’s built of stone and it’s two storeys high, unlike my little home that’s made of dried mud and has just the one room. I hope our Great Speaker knows what he’s doing letting the god and his servants move in here, right in the centre of the city.

  To thank Monty, the hairy god’s servants exploded two of their metal tree trunks which burst with a great roar, shooting out flame and smoke. Being a soothsayer I guessed that this would happen, but everyone else was terrified. I don’t suppose anyone will get a wink of sleep tonight.

  November 9th, 1519

  After the nightmares and everything else that’s happened since the first news arrived about the hairy god, I’d been expecting something bad to happen to me. Now it has – in a big way.

  Monty ordered me into his palace late last night and told me that I’ve got to be the official guide to the hairy god and his army. It’s my job, as a soothsayer, to find out what they want to see, then show them.

  November 10th, 1519

  I knew it! The hairy god wants to know all about our great city and its treasures. It’s a good job we’ve just had a new brochure written by Brainboxl, chief historian to the Great Speaker.

  I hope Marina can translate this into the hairy god’s language. I don’t think I’m going to be much good at talking to him and I’m scared stiff of what he might do to me if he doesn’t like something I tell him, or show him.

  Trust Monty to dump this on me.

  November 11th, 1519

  I don’t know where we’d be without Marina. She must be a genius. I expect the hairy god and his friends think so too. If it wasn’t for her, they wouldn’t have anything to eat or drink. Everyone in the city was too frightened to go near them so no-one took them any food. It was only when Marina persuaded people that the hairy god really wouldn’t hurt them, that food started arriving.

  No-one knew what they liked eating. So all sorts of delicious things were served and someone had thoughtfully sprinkled fresh blood over the tastiest food, straight from the sacrifice the priests had made up at the pyramid temple.

  But they all refused to
touch any of the food that had human blood on it.

  If Marina hadn’t sorted things out, there could have been big trouble. She explained to me that the hairy god has this thing about blood, in fact he’s dead against anything to do with cutting out people’s hearts. That seems strange after all the Indians that his army has killed fighting their way here. But there you go. He’s just one of heaven’s great mysteries.

  Anyhow, I put two and two together and before you could say Huitzilopochtli, I shot out to a place that serves the best Aztec food I know to get them something else to eat. I’ve kept the menu in case we have any more trouble in the future.

  November 12th, 1519

  At least the hairy god and his friends aren’t hungry any more, after all the food I took them yesterday.

  I’m not sure about the half-deer monsters. They’re so big, and so frightening, the way they blow through their noses and stamp about on their four huge feet. I made sure that they got nice juicy bits of dog and turkey and piles and piles of tortillas. But they only sniffed at these. What they really liked were the ordinary raw vegetables.

  As for the chocolate drink, they smashed the pottery bowls when they trod on them and then drank the washing water out of the bowl.

  I ask you! There’s no pleasing some gods.

  November 14th, 1519

  Sightseeing today – another disaster!

  Monty told me to put on a good show for the hairy god, so I had a word with the temple priests and they cut out a big, juicy heart from a sacrifice just as we climbed the top steps of the holy pyramid.

  I could tell things weren’t going too well when the hairy god and his friends started holding their noses as we walked up to the temple platform. You’d think as gods they’d appreciate the smell of old blood that covers the top steps. But you’d never guess that from the way they looked. Anyone would think they were walking past the barges where we all do our ‘business’, before the ‘business’ we’ve done gets taken out to the fields in the lake to be spread on the crops to make them grow well.

  Normally, when visitors get to the top of the pyramid (visitors who aren’t sent up as sacrifices that is), they usually marvel at the view. This is the highest place in Tenochtitlan and from here you can look right out across the city. The closest buildings are the royal palaces and the other temples to the gods. These stand round the central square.

  In the sunlight the white walls gleam and shine like silver, in fact some of the hairy god’s servants thought they were made of silver. That’s all they seem to be interested in – gold and riches.

  As you look further away you see the houses where the craftsmen live. Every visitor wants to take home some special Aztec souvenirs. Some of us hope these particular visitors will be heading home very soon.

  Beyond the craftsmen’s houses you see the thousands of homes belonging to the ordinary people – neat, flat-roofed mud houses just like mine, with a little yard outside where people keep their animals and grow vegetables. Then you get to the lake and the four big causeways that run like straight white ribbons across the brown water, joining the city with the shore.

  There’s also a stone pipe which brings water to Tenochtitlan all the way from the mountains in the distance. I’m glad that was built before my time. Knowing my luck, Monty would have made me a slave so that I could help on the building work.

  Slaves don’t have houses or land of their own. In fact slaves don’t have much at all, except the wooden collars round their necks.

  Some slaves are captured in fighting against other cities and a lot of those end up with a one-way walk to the top of the temple pyramid. Other people sell themselves and their families as slaves when they don’t have enough to eat in times of famine. Famine can be a big problem when 250,000 people live on an island where everything has to be carried in on porters’ backs across the causeways, or paddled in by canoe.

  In the distance are the towns and cities around the shore of the lake, and far away, surrounding the whole valley, are the mountains and volcanoes. Tenochtitlan is certainly quite a sight.

  But the hairy god and his friends seemed much more interested in the temple where the statues of the gods live, and the place where the priests cut out hearts and burn them as offerings to the gods. The hairy god got very cross at what he saw. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t see a statue of himself. He began shouting about some other god called Jesus (I think that was his name) and his mother (was her name Mary?).

  Our priests told him that he must be getting muddled, because there are no gods round here with names like that.

  Then the hairy god made them angry by saying that this Jesus god was also the son of god and that he and his Dad were the only real gods. He even went as far as saying that they should have their own special place of worship in the temple on the pyramid. He wants to put a cross made of wood there. Really! What sort of a god does he think he is? It wouldn’t surprise me if the hairy god doesn’t turn out to be some sort ordinary person called Senõr Courtyard… Courtship…, Cortés… or whatever his servants call him. He’s Senõr Caught-out if you want my opinion.

  November 20th, 1519

  I think Monty’s starting to have his own doubts about Caught-out.

  Yesterday the hairy god took him prisoner! He took Montezuma II, the Great Speaker, prisoner right here in his own capital.

  Monty is telling everyone that he’s chosen to stay in the hairy god’s palace. But I know the truth. Caught-out may be letting Monty have his servants, and hundreds of nice things to eat every day, just as he does in his own palace. But Monty can’t leave, even if he wants to. Caught-out has made him his prisoner and I think I’m the only person in Tenochtitlan to realize this.

  November 25th, 1519

  I was really worried there might be big trouble today. This is the time of year when our brave warriors hold major celebrations at the great pyramid in honour of the god Huitzilopochtli and his victory over Coyolxauhqui. These celebrations always need masses of sacrifices and I thought that Caught-out might cause trouble when he saw what was going on.

  Today I noticed that many of the warriors had changed their hairstyles since the last celebrations. Some of the young ones have cut the long lock of hair they have to wear until they capture their first prisoner; so they’ve made a good start. Others are now wearing their hair tied up which shows that they’ve captured at least three prisoners.

  The good thing about being a successful warrior is that you can be rewarded with expensive gifts, and if you’re really brave and capture lots of prisoners Monty and the other nobles might make you a higher ranking person. That can’t be bad, can it?

  I’ve always been useless at fighting. ‘Dream, dream, dream. Is that all you ever do?’ my dad used to complain. He was right, of course. That’s why I’m a soothsayer. But at least I know a bit about the army and fighting because I have to look into the future to decide when it’s a good time to fight a war.

  The warriors who always impress me are the jaguar knights. They dress in jaguar skins, with helmets like jaguar heads, and they go into battle at night. This takes courage, because most Aztecs are scared stiff of going out after dark when spirits are on the prowl. The eagle knights are also top warriors – they go into battle at dawn. They are dressed like eagles and they’d certainly put the fear of death into me if I was fighting against them.

  When they’re still boys, warriors in the Aztec army start learning to use a long wooden club fitted with sharp chips of obsidian* rock. These can hack through really tough material so lots of our warriors wear padded cotton armour, soaked in salt water to make it stiff. (I notice that some of Caught-out’s servants have started wearing it too, instead of the shiny metal skins they had when they arrived.) The only problem with the obsidian chips is that they snap off and break too easily. I don’t think Caught-out’s bright metal fighting sticks can be damaged in that way.

  All our other weapons were on display during the celebrations: bows and flint-tipped arrows;
spears which our warriors use with throwing sticks that send them flying a very long way; slings that hurl stones even further; and hundreds of beautiful shields decorated with lovely feather shapes and pictures.

  This celebration with thousands of armed warriors is always a great sight. Maybe that’s why Caught-out didn’t try to start any trouble.

  *

  * volcanic

  December 4th, 1519

  Monty’s still convinced that Caught-out is a god, despite what’s happened. At least he doesn’t agree with Caught-out about the Jesus god he keeps talking about. Monty says he doesn’t mind staying with Caught-out if it makes him happy, and to keep him happy we all went to the match today.

  I don’t know what sort of games Caught-out plays, but he obviously hasn’t seen a game of tlachtli* before. He kept going on about a game he knows in which players kick the ball with their feet. This doesn’t sound very interesting to me. I suppose you can’t expect much from a game with a boring name like ‘football’.

  Today’s game was between the league champions, the Temple Tigers, and the Cactus Eagles. A big crowd turned out to support both sides and I was glad that Monty had given us the best place to watch the game, otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to see much. We were on raised steps overlooking the middle of the ball-court. On each side of the playing area there are high stone walls and halfway along each wall (right in front of us) there is a stone ring set high in the wall about twice the height of a man from the ground. The walls are about ten man-paces apart and from one end to the other the playing area is about sixty man-paces long. So the players have to be very fit to keep going.

  Tlachtli is a real test of skill. The players can only hit the ball with their elbows, hips, bottoms and knees. I’ve had a go at doing this and it isn’t easy. It’s also very painful. I had some huge bruises afterwards and some players get badly injured (even killed). Sometimes the losers are sacrificed, that’s why everyone tries really hard to win.

  The winners can get great prizes: coloured feathers and other expensive things. They can even be given the clothes worn by the spectators! I’m glad that didn’t happen after the game we watched – I didn’t fancy walking back to the palace naked!