During these days of slow recuperation, Malinal told Tozi the whole story of what had happened since she had first reached the Spaniards at Potonchan, and Tozi in her turn spoke of her own incredible adventures. Gradually Pepillo realised that this strange Indian waif, whose large earnest hazel eyes, high cheekbones and serious, pretty elfin face so entranced him, actually believed herself to be some sort of witch! Such an idea would have been very dangerous if Muñoz were still alive to do her mischief, but fortunately he was not, and Father Olmedo was too wise and generous-spirited a man ever to burn anyone at the stake. Even so, Pepillo cautioned Malinal and Tozi not to talk of such matters in the presence of Olmedo, or Cortés – or indeed any of the other expeditionaries.
‘Why?’ Tozi asked.
‘Because Spaniards believe witches are in league with the devil, and fear them and kill them in cruel ways whenever they can.’
‘The Mexica believe this too,’ said Tozi. ‘They killed my mother because she was a witch.’
‘All the more reason to keep quiet about it then.’ Out of long habit, Pepillo glanced uncomfortably over his shoulder, even though he knew the three of them were alone in the room.
But Tozi wasn’t finished: ‘The sorcerer Acopol took my powers away when he buried me under the pyramid,’ she said sadly. ‘I used to be able to make myself invisible and go wherever I pleased; I used to be able to send the fog, and put fear and terrible dreams into people’s minds and know their thoughts, and command wild animals—’
‘Shush!’ Pepillo said. ‘I told you not to talk of such things.’
‘We’re speaking in Nahuatl,’ Malinal pointed out.
‘Even so, it’s dangerous. Better to say nothing.’
‘Do you believe I’m a witch?’ Tozi persisted. Her eyes, bright and intelligent, seemed to peer directly into Pepillo’s soul.
‘No, of course I don’t!’
‘Well you should,’ she said, sticking out her lower lip in a certain stubborn way she had. ‘Because I am a witch, even if I’ve lost my powers. My magic is still there and one day I’ll find how to connect to it again.’
‘It’s true, Pepillo,’ Malinal confided. ‘Tozi did have these powers. She used them to save my life, not only once but twice.’
‘Then if she’s a witch she’s a good witch,’ whispered Pepillo. ‘But even good witches get burnt.’ He looked over his shoulder again. ‘We have to stop talking about this. I’m sorry.’
A week after being rescued from the cave, Tozi was up and about, hobbling restlessly around her room, supporting herself between Pepillo and Malinal, and around noon on the eighth day, Friday 29 October, dressed in a fine new cotton blouse and skirt from the hoard Teudile had brought, she declared herself ready to go outside. She’d asked many questions about Acopol and his fate and now insisted she wanted to see his head.
Nearly two weeks had passed since it had been hacked from the sorcerer’s shoulders. There had been calls for it to be removed from the prominent position it occupied in front of the pyramid, but Alvarado had resisted these and Cortés had supported him, saying the trophy sent an important message to the surviving Cholulans who were now returning in good numbers to reoccupy the town.
Approaching it, squinting in the harsh midday glare reflecting off the flagstones of the plaza, Tozi shook herself free of Malinal and Pepillo and walked independently for the first time, while Melchior danced and gambolled at her heels. She stopped about five paces from the head, still impaled on a Spanish spear as Alvarado had left it, and looked at it closely for several minutes with a firm, resolute stare. Then, keeping the same distance, she shuffled slowly round it until finally she stood in front of it again. The face was in such an advanced state of corruption, Pepillo saw, the teeth bared like fangs as the tattooed flesh melted away, that it did more and more resemble some monstrous jungle beast rather than a man.
Now Tozi moved closer, peering into the creature’s rotting eyes, yet closer until she was only a hand’s breadth away from it, and began to mumble rapidly, a spine-tingling, sibilant whisper that little by little became an incantation, more sung than spoken, rising in volume, growing coarse and somehow menacing. As the sound spread out across the plaza, Melchior suddenly whined and Pepillo looked nervously round, hoping no one would approach and witness this eerie, frankly witchy, scene. That was when Tozi’s frail, skinny body seemed to shimmer, the way a heat haze shimmers in bright sunlight, shimmered a second time, and then, just for an instant vanished so completely that even her shadow disappeared. Pepillo stared in amazement, blinked his eyes twice and she was back, thin but solid, casting a shadow again. It had all happened so fast he at once began to convince himself he had imagined it.
Tozi’s whispered chant stopped and she turned with a tired smile. ‘I’m ready,’ she said.
‘Ready for what?’ asked Malinal. If she too had witnessed the illusion, she gave no hint of it in her expression.
‘To fight Moctezuma again,’ Tozi said. ‘We don’t have long.’ She linked arms with Malinal and Pepillo. ‘Let’s go inside,’ she said, ‘and I’ll explain.’
* * *
Pepillo had always been good with numbers, so he did not find it difficult to reconcile the Mexica and Christian calendars for the weeks ahead. The Mexica year had three hundred and sixty-five days, as did the Christian year, but instead of being divided into twelve months, it was divided into eighteen months of twenty days each, plus one short month of five ‘nameless’ days, the nemontemi, which fell during January in the Christian calendar and were considered by the Mexica to be unlucky and potentially cataclysmic.
Today, Friday 29 October, was four days from the end of the Mexica twenty-day month of Tepeilhuitl, ‘Feast of Mountains’, that had begun on 11 October. The following month, Quecholli, ‘Flamingo’, would begin on 30 October and end on 19 November. Then came Panquetzaliztli, ‘Raising of Flags’, sacred to the war god Hummingbird, whose birthday was celebrated with human sacrifices on the first day of that month – corresponding with 20 November in the Christian calendar.
This year, Tozi said, Moctezuma was planning an unusually grotesque and wicked festival of sacrifices to honour the birthday of the war god; sacrifices on a far grander scale than any that had gone before, in which the hearts of ten thousand young girls, all maidens and most under twelve years of age, would be cut from their bodies on the summit of the great pyramid of Tenochtitlan. The murder of this huge number would take four days and nights to complete and would therefore begin on 16 November, in order to culminate with the offering of the last of the ‘basket’ of ten thousand victims at sunrise on 20 November, the birthday itself.
At first Pepillo found it impossible to comprehend that such a thing could happen, but Malinal and Tozi reminded him in alarming detail how they’d witnessed the sacrifice of two thousand women in February and had only by a miracle escaped the knife themselves. Long before they’d finished their account, he was persuaded that the almost unimaginable holocaust that Moctezuma was now preparing could and most certainly would take place between 16 and 20 November, unless Cortés and his conquistadors were able to reach Tenochtitlan in time to prevent it.
‘This is the reason that Malinche was called to Mexico,’ Tozi insisted, her eyes blazing. ‘I care not whether he is Quetzalcoatl returning to claim his kingdom as I once believed, or just a man as you have told me, but the fact is he’s here, with the power and the will to prevent this horrible and grievous wrong. It’s our responsibility to ensure that he does …
‘It won’t be so easy,’ said Pepillo. ‘My master Cortés – Malinche as you call him – can’t be made to do anything. He long ago set his mind on reaching Tenochtitlan, but he’ll take us there at the time he believes is best. He may wish to win more allies first, in which case he might halt our march in towns along the way – who knows for how long? Also, there’s the matter of the Mexica. We’ll make slow progress if they attack us – and they’d be fools not to, though I pray they don’t.’ He turned to
Malinal: ‘Remember how it was in Tlascala? We stayed two weeks on the hill of Tzompach without moving a mile.’
‘The Tlascalans made us fight for our lives,’ said Malinal, ‘and they were led by a brave man. The Mexica are bullies led by a coward.’
‘Even so, we’re in their homeland.’ Pepillo felt a responsibility not to give Tozi false hope. ‘And they have hundreds of thousands of soldiers. God knows what sort of fight we’ll face.’
* * *
The next day, Saturday 30 October, Huicton returned with a thousand warriors from the rebel faction of Texcoco, and left that same afternoon taking Tozi with him. Before her departure she sought out Pepillo and found him grooming Molinero, with Melchior looking on, in the makeshift stables in the courtyard of the palace. ‘I have to go back to Tenochtitlan,’ she explained. ‘There’s work for me there.’
‘But how?’ Pepillo was suddenly panic-stricken at the thought of losing this mysterious girl. ‘You can’t go. You can’t even walk properly.’
‘Huicton’s tamanes,’ she said. ‘They’ve made a litter. They’re going to carry me.’ She rested a slim hand on Pepillo’s arm and he felt himself blush to the roots of his hair. ‘You’ve been very kind to me,’ she said, ‘but I have to go. Work on your master, make him come quickly to Tenochtitlan. I’ll see you there … ’
‘But … But … ’ Pepillo was speechless. He wanted to run and find Malinal, hoping she might persuade Tozi to stay, but Tozi seemed to guess his thoughts. ‘I’ve already told her,’ she said. ‘She knows better than to try to talk me out of anything. These are terrible times and we all have to do what we can.’ She stooped and petted Melchior. ‘This one has a noble heart,’ she said. ‘Something tells me he has a part to play in the events that are to come.’
Only after she was long gone did it occur to Pepillo that Tozi had done more than guess his thoughts.
She’d known exactly what he was thinking, not just about Malinal persuading her to stay, but everything that was in his mind.
He blushed again, though there was no one to see him.
* * *
On the morning of Sunday 1 November, a mass was held by Father Olmedo in the great plaza of Cholula. As the burly friar gave thanks to God for the many blessings He had bestowed on His servants in the conquest of these new lands, and requested His further help and support in the venture that lay ahead, Cortés knelt amongst the men and silently offered up his own prayer for victory to Saint Peter.
Soon after the mass, Meco, the commander of the loyal Totonacs who had accompanied the Spaniards all the way from the coast and fought bravely for them in the Tlascalan campaign, took Cortés and Malinal aside and informed them, with some trepidation, that he and his men would not complete the journey to Tenochtitlan. ‘To go to that terrible city means certain death for us, lord, and for yourselves. We beg you to turn back.’
‘We will not turn back,’ Cortés replied. ‘We will never turn back. But you have served us well, Meco. Go home now with honour and our blessings.’ He rewarded him with many of the loads of rich cotton cloaks that Teudile had presented a few days earlier. Then, summoning Pepillo, he dictated a letter for Meco to carry to Juan de Escalante at Villa Rica, giving him news of everything that had happened since they’d parted company on 16 August, and informing him that the army was about to proceed to Tenochtitlan, there to take Moctezuma dead or alive. ‘My dear friend,’ Cortés concluded, ‘fortify Villa Rica well, look after our settlers, keep a good watch and be alert by day and night. The Mexica are a cunning and vicious race and, as we march on them, it becomes more probable they will attempt some cowardly attack on you.’ He sealed the letter and gave it to Meco to deliver. ‘This is the first thing you must do,’ he told the Totonac. ‘Before even you go to your own family, you must place this letter in the hands of Captain Escalante.’
‘As you command, Malinche, so it will be done,’ replied Meco.
The following morning, Monday 2 November, no further word yet having been received from Moctezuma, Cortés summoned the troops to marching order and signalled the advance. Scouts had given the lie to Teudile’s tales of a long and arduous journey. To be sure, a range of high mountains must be crossed, but Tenochtitlan and the looming, murderous power of the Mexica and their hellish gods now lay less than sixty miles to the west.
END
Time Frame, Principal Settings and Cast of Characters
Time Frame and Subject Matter
War God: Return of the Plumed Serpent unfolds in the seven-month period between 20 April 1519 and 2 November 1519. The book, which continues directly from the story told in Volume I (War God: Nights of the Witch), deals with the crucial second phase of the Spanish conquest of Mexico. After routing the Maya at the battle of Potonchan (described in the closing chapters of Volume I), the conquistador Hernán Cortés turns his attention to the much bigger prize of the Mexica (the Aztecs) and their golden city Tenochtitlan. But in order to win the Mexica gold, Cortés and his small force of just five hundred men will have to defeat the psychotic emperor Moctezuma and the armies of hundreds of thousands he commands. Cortés expects the warlike Tlascalans, hereditary enemies of the Aztecs, will join him, but instead finds himself locked in a life-or-death struggle with the Tlascalan battle king Shikotenka, who sees that the Spaniards will not stop with the destruction of Mexica power but will go on to annihilate all the ancient cultures of Mexico unless the invaders can be driven back into the sea.
Note on names
Some ancient Mexican names are extremely difficult for modern readers to pronounce and I have taken the liberty in a number of cases of simplifying them. To give just a few examples here, the town that I call Huitztlan is correctly written Quiahuitztlan, I have abbreviated the name of the Texcocan rebel leader Ixtlilxóchitl to the more manageable form of Ishtlil, I have abbreviated the name Temazcalteci, the Mexica goddess of medicine and healing, to Temaz, and the name Shikotenka is more correctly written Xicotencatl.
Principal Settings
Tenochtitlan, capital city of the Mexica (Aztec) empire of ancient Mexico, 1325 to 1521. Built on an island in the middle of a huge salt lake (Lake Texcoco) in the Valley of Mexico. The Valley of Mexico is ringed by distant snow-capped mountains. At the heart of the valley is Lake Texcoco. At the heart of Lake Texcoco is the island on which Tenochtitlan stands, accessed via three huge causeways (varying in length between two and six miles), extending to the southern, western and northern shores of the lake. At the heart of Tenochtitlan, surrounded by a vast walled enclosure (the grand plaza, or sacred precinct), is the Great Pyramid, which is surmounted by the temple of Huitzilopochtli (‘Hummingbird’), War God of the Mexica, to whom tens of thousands of human sacrifices are offered every year.
Tlascala, an independent republic, with elected kings, at war with the Mexica. Both the republic as a whole, and its capital city, are known as Tlascala. Tlascalans captured in raids and battles are a prime source of sacrificial victims for the Mexica.
Cuetlaxtlan, a coastal town on the Gulf of Mexico, ruled and colonised by the Mexica, but with a subject population of Totanacs, to whom the town originally belonged.
The Spanish military camp on the dunes a few miles north of Cuetlaxtlan.
The military camp of Ishtlil, leader of the rebel faction in the Mexica vassal state of Texcoco.
Huitztlan, a Totonac town on the Gulf of Mexico that will offer friendship and allegiance to Cortés.
Villa Rica de la Veracruz, the first Spanish town in Mexico, built close by Huitztlan.
Cempoala, capital city of the Totonacs. The Totonacs will become the first allies of the Spaniards in Mexico.
Teotihuacan, ancient sacred complex dominated by three pyramids, thirty-five miles north of Teotihuacan.
The Chichemec desert, twenty days’ walk north of Teotihuacan.
Xocotlan, a Mexica garrison town on the border of Tlascala.
The Hill of Tzompach, principal camp of the Spaniards during their war with the Tlascalans.
Cholula, city sacred to Quetzalcoatl and dominated by a huge pyramid dedicated to Quetzalcoatl.
Point-of-View Characters
Tozi. A witch. Age, fifteen. Tozi never knew her father. Her mother was a witch but was cornered and beaten to death by a mob when Tozi was seven, at which age Tozi’s own training had just begun and her formidable supernatural powers were not fully developed. She survived as a beggar on the streets of Tenochtitlan for the next six years until captured and placed in the fattening pen at the age of fourteen to await sacrifice – a fate that she escaped as described in Volume I, War God: Nights of the Witch. Tozi’s origins are mysterious. Her mother told her they came from Aztlán, the fabled homeland not only of the Mexica but also of the Tlascalans and other related ‘Nahua’ peoples who speak the language called Nahuatl. But Aztlán is a mythical and legendary place, the home of the gods, where masters of wisdom and workers of magic are believed to dwell; although the Mexica say their forefathers came from Aztlán, no one knows where it is any more, or how to find it.
Malinal. A beautiful courtesan, and formerly a sex-slave of the Mexica, she was held in the fattening pen awaiting sacrifice with Tozi, and escaped with her (these events are described in Volume I). Age, twenty-one. Malinal is Maya in ethnic origin and is fluent both in Nahuatl, the language of the Mexica, and in the Mayan language. She hates Moctezuma and intends to use the conquistador Hernán Cortés as her instrument to destroy him.
Huicton. A spy working to destroy Moctezuma. Huicton is in his sixties and passes unnoticed through the streets of Tenochtitlan disguised as an elderly blind beggar. However, he is not blind. He is the mentor and protector of Tozi.
Pepillo. Spanish, approaching fifteen years of age. An orphan, he was given shelter, reared and taught numbers and letters by Dominican monks, who brought him from Spain to the New World, first to the island of Hispaniola and then to Cuba, where he worked as a junior bookkeeper and clerk in the Dominican monastery. He is the page of the conquistador, Hernán Cortés.
War God: Return of the Plumed Serpent Page 57