Following “Onward”, which was posted earlier this month, “A Turning Point” is the second and final part of An Aztec’s Tale, a story of mine set in the New World in 1521. I am posting it in August 2021 to mark 500 years since the Battle of Tenochtitlán (22nd May – 13th August 1521). As with the first chapter, I have tried to weave a credible tale around the actual history of the Aztec Empire in the early 16th century and hope the whole saga has a ring of authenticity. I researched names for people and checked the spellings of places, but I shall leave you to interpret the pronunciations yourself! Thank you for reading both chapters. August 2021 is Aztec Month for Chasqui’s Writing World!
This is a fictional story based on historical facts and any resemblance to reality is pure coincidence.
The audio version is available on Anchor: https://anchor.fm/dashboard/episode/e1n58qr
Part 1 of this story, Onward, is available to read via this link: https://chasquiswritingworld.wordpress.com/2021/08/13/an-aztecs-tale/
AN AZTEC’S TALE
Part 2: A Turning Point
The sun was high in the sky when I awoke in the cave where I had spent the previous 25 nights. I had made it my temporary home, sleeping on the ledge halfway up the side, safe from predators. It wasn’t the most comfortable of beds, but I was glad to be alive still, existing on the fruits, nuts and few vegetables which grew wild in the vicinity. My attempts to find my way out of this predicament had proved futile, but I lived in hope. At least I was away from the fighting and had survived the onslaught from those interlopers who were trying to take over our lands and possessions while subjugating our people. Thankfully, my family was safe with my brother in his house in the countryside, and sometimes I dared to think that maybe one day I would be reunited with them.
I ventured out into the morning sunshine, in search of breakfast, when I saw a flock of birds rising en masse from the hill in front of me. As I looked I saw the reason for their panic – a man walking along, the first person I had seen for nearly a month. He was heading in my direction and the closer he got the more I knew from his clothing that he was one of us, not an enemy. I hailed him from the cave mouth and walked towards him while he made a detour to meet me. He greeted me warmly and, after my brief explanation of how I came to be in this somewhat deserted area, we introduced ourselves. My new friend Zipactonal was interested to hear that I was called Toltectl and asked me whether I had artistic skills, as my name implied. I told him I was a jewellery designer and maker and had received commissions from Moctezuma but had no idea what the future held for me or my family. We chatted for a while and, on hearing my brother’s name Huitzilin, Zipactonal gave me a wonderful piece of news – his wife Chantico and my brother’s wife Zyanya were cousins. I could hardly believe my luck!
Zipactonal not only knew the way to my brother’s village Ecatepec but also offered to take me there. He told me it was about half a day’s walk and invited me to stay overnight at his house so we could set off on the journey the next day. He guided me along a zigzag path which led to his house where Chantico welcomed me, as did their four children playing outside, and before long I was given a meal and we were planning our trip for the following day. Zipactonal and Chantico farmed a smallholding where they grew maize, squash, tomatoes and other crops, and he insisted on taking some of their produce as a gift to my brother and family.
We set off early the next morning at a steady pace, stopping a few times for rest and refreshment. Walking through woodland kept the heat at bay and by midday we were about half an hour from our destination. On a trodden route, we heard rustling not far away. Zipactonal urged caution, whispering that he thought a jaguar was in the undergrowth. With little protection around us, we crept to a large tree and began to climb it. Wedging the provisions between branches, we reached a good vantage point, from where we kept an eye out for the jaguar. These big cats tend not to attack people but, as they can climb trees, we were prepared to try scaring it away if it showed signs of following us up the trunk. However, our precautions were unnecessary as the rustling had been caused by an ocelot – little bigger than domestic cats, they don’t view men as prey and are happy to pursue smaller creatures such as mice and rabbits. We breathed a sigh of relief as we watched the ocelot prowling round a few trees before bounding off on its hunt for who knows what. Feeling safer, we made our way down the tree and continued our journey warily. Before long the woodland gave way to grassland and I soon recognised the area, then spied my brother’s house on the horizon. As we approached, my son Citalee saw us and shouted in delight, calling to his sisters to tell their mother I had arrived, as he ran towards us.
The family reunion was joyous. My wife Atzi clung to me while everyone else crowded round Zipactonal, enthusiastically welcoming us both. They were all well and had escaped the fighting but had heard that Cortez and his army had defeated our brave warriors and taken our capital in the Battle of Tenochtitlán. The enemy soldiers had pursued and killed in the streets any Mexica people they could find. To make matters even worse, smallpox – a deadly disease we had never known before the invaders’ arrival – had broken out in the city and the combined disasters led to the fall of the Aztec Empire, less than two years after that small number of Spanish sailors had arrived.
Zyanya invited Zipactonal to stay for a couple of days to recover from the long walk, and he gratefully accepted. Having known each other since childhood, they spent time reminiscing about those carefree days. Meanwhile, my mother and Atzi prepared the food, to give Zyanya a chance to chat to her cousin by marriage. Between them they made good use of the provisions Zipactonal had brought, cooking some delicious meals for us all.
We chatted for the rest of the day and long into the night, though the children fell asleep early on and we let them rest. The house was a good size for an average family, but with eight guests it was rather cramped. The next day Huitzilin and I discussed enlarging his house to provide more accommodation as it was likely we’d be staying for quite some time, and Zyanya was expecting their first baby. Our father, a skilled woodworker, had built our wooden house in Tenochtitlán, so was keen to be involved in this latest project. With great success, he designed the extension and worked out the materials and quantities needed.
When it was time to say goodbye to Zipactonal, I thanked him profusely for helping to reunite me with my family and told him he represented a turning point in my life; without him, I might never have seen them again. He merely embraced me warmly, called me “cousin” and promised to visit us with his family soon after the new moon, a promise he kept.
The weeks sped by and Zyanya gave birth to a healthy daughter named Xochiquetzal which means “most beautiful flower”. Keeping to our plan, and in any spare hours, my father, brother and I extended the house. Sooner than expected it became a more spacious and comfortable dwelling for all the family. Despite inheriting outstanding carpentry and building skills from our father, Huitzilin was a potter by trade and earned his living by making both utility and decorative pottery, with his creations much in demand and personal orders accounting for most of his income. The everyday pots were sold in the local market by his neighbour whose stall offered an assortment of different items at reasonable prices.
It was wonderfully peaceful in the countryside and surprisingly none of us missed Tenochtitlán, at least not as much as I would have thought. We kept reminding ourselves that the city would be beyond recognition. The tragic news of Cuauhtémoc’s hanging also seemed to mark the end of the life we had known, and we settled down happily together in Ecatepec. We had always enjoyed living on Tenochtitlán – that manmade island built by our ancestors in Lake Texococo – but after Moctezuma’s death, nothing had been quite the same there. Unrest and suspicion had begun to dominate each day and night and had seemed set to increase.
Between us we had managed to carry all the gold, silver and gems as well as other tools of my trade when leaving our Tenochtitlán home. With these to hand, I returned to designing and making jewellery, with a view to selling it locally. As time went by, I rented a stall at the nearest marketplace and from there my wife resumed selling my creations, so from that angle it was just as life had been before the Spanish invasion. Citalee showed a keen interest in learning the jewellery trade, and I was very impressed by the way he responded so well to my tuition, displaying a real flair for design.
As the months and seasons passed, we became aware of the growing presence of the Spanish conquistadores. It appears they had indeed travelled across the sea to steal our gold and overthrow Aztec rule. Thankfully though, our serene rural life was untouched by these intruders, and we were grateful to Huitzilin and Zyanya for sharing their home with us. However, I often wonder whether I would still be in that cave if I hadn’t met Zipactonal who provided the turning point for me, not only in my quest to find my loved ones but also in my life. I shall always be indebted to him and delighted that he, his wife and their children are our close friends as well as our relatives.
© Chasqui Penguin, 2021
Twitter: @ChasquiPenguin
Chasqui's Writing World 