They began by explaining the new Aztec Republic to the gathered men of primitive commerce. That is, the Snake-Woman did. For one thing, Don wanted to listen to find whether or not the whole concept was clear to Tlilpotonque himself. After all, Don Fielding had been over it only once.
But the other had the idea, and although Don felt it necessary to embellish a bit, the Snake-Woman did a good job. Afterward, Don took over.
He said, "By tomorrow morning, I want every pochteca in Tenochtitlan on the roads. You will go as traders, as always, but you will also be ambassadors of the Aztec Republic. Everywhere you go, you will explain that there are to be no more raids on their cities and no more tribute, ever, if they join the new Mexico, the Aztec Republic. Each city that wishes to join must immediately elect its two senators and its representatives from each of its clans and send them to Tenochtitlan for our first ... our first congress. Make note of each tribe that refuses to join; let it be known that they have incurred the displeasure of the Aztec Republic, the greatest confederation in all the lands. " He thought of something, hesitated, sighed a sigh for agnosticism, then added, "And the returned Quetzalcoatl." There was no surprise evinced at the last. They knew who he was, all right, all right. Under his breath, he muttered in English, "Religion is the opium of the people." But he needed to give them the extra lift.
He said, "The largest expedition must go to the Tarascans to the north."
The Snake-Woman said, "But except for the Tlaxcalans, these are our greatest enemies."
Don nodded. "So I understand. However, they must become our friends, instead. We need them. They are the greatest producers of copper in Mexico and the best workers of that metal. We can use it for hammers and other tools that we must not waste our iron upon. As traders, the pochteca will be able to enter their area safely. It is doubtful that they will wish to join the republic as yet, but the seed will be sown. What do they value most that is here in Tenochtitlan and Tlaltelolco?"
"They value most what we do well. Ornaments of jade, the precious green stone, cacao, tobacco, and rubber, which comes from the south. Also they value our ... Aztec ... featherwork and various herbs and medicines which we bring up from Tabasco and the Mayan country beyond."
"Very well. Gather up all of these things in the city and send them with the pochteca to Tzintzuntzan, their capital. In return, we wish all the copper they have on hand, in any form, and any other metal they have."
Every eye in the building goggled at him.
Snake-Woman blurted, "But these are the very things we cherish most."
"No more. Now we treasure freedom. Those goods are of no value whatsoever if the Spanish return and conquer us. We need the copper more than we need luxuries. We need guns instead of butter."
"I do not understand your last words."
"It is of no importance. Also tell the Tarascans that we wish still more copper and will trade them our most precious possessions for it. Urge them to intensify their mining of it."
He thought for a moment. "In each area into which the trading expeditions go, take those items they desire most, though we strip the city. Trade always for metals, any kind of metals they have." Unconsciously he was using more of their gestures, crossing his wrists to indicate "trade." One day, far to the north, other tribes would call it "sign talk." Damn it. He knew they had tin here in the Mexico of this time. History told him so. But he couldn't remember from which area it came, nor, for that matter, what it even looked like. He needed tin for bronze. Pure copper was too soft.
He considered some more and said, "And in each area you come to, request that they widen and smooth the roads. They are to be made at least three times as wide. Soon the new wheeled wagons will be using them. Also, request that they double the number of shelters along the roads. Soon there will be a great increase of traffic. Soon large numbers of people will be using them, not just traders and ambassadors, as the new Aztec Republic gets under way."
Complete with his staff, which seemed to be burgeoning by the hour, he returned to the tecpan and brought together all the prisoners who had been farmers before soldiers. There were a considerable number of them, more than any other category. The gentleman farmers he eliminated, delegating them to training the Aztecs in European weapons and drill or to the newly created riding school.
The remaining peasants and small landholders he divided into two, those who were actual farmers and those who were specialists with animals.
He instructed the first group to repair the blacksmith shop and toolmaking smithy to have several plows made, utilizing as little steel as possible. When these were done, they were to go to the mainland and instruct the Aztecs in field agriculture. They were to draw upon the horses to the extent necessary but also to try to work out a method of using manpower, if possible.
He took the remaining contingent to the zoo, which had once been the pride of Motechzoma and the other members of the Eagle clan. They went through it with care. The Aztecs had done a good job. Almost every animal and bird known to Mexico was represented, including the longtailed quetzal.
His Spanish companions were nonplussed, not getting it at all.
After the conducted tour, Don said to them, "All right. What can be domesticated?"
They all took him in blankly.
Don pointed. "That's some kind of a goat, isn't it? I hardly know a goat from a sheep."
One of the farm-raised Europeans, a Rodrigo Reogel, said grudgingly, "It is a mountain goat. We saw them on our way up from Vera Cruz. They are very wild; we were able to shoot none of them."
Don said, "Could they be domesticated and used for milk and meat?"
Reogel peered at him, as though Don was kidding. "Why?"
"Isn't it obvious? These people have neither enough milk nor sufficient meat in their diet. I thought the goat was one of the most efficient animals ever domesticated." Although they were soldiers all, a farmer-born never quite loses all of the instinct. They were intrigued.
One said hesitantly, "It might take a long time. The newly taken ones could never be trained, but if you started with the kids..."
Another said, just as hesitantly, "You would have to breed for larger udders if you wished milk. It would take time ..."
"Then the sooner we start, the better," Don said decisively. He turned to one of his aides. "Send orders out that the hunters are to be sent into the hills to capture as many of these animals as possible—unharmed. Both male and female, but particularly female. Use huge net traps, if you must."
He turned back to his farmers. "Now, of all the other animals you have seen, which do you think best lend themselves to domestication?"
Reogel said definitely, "Those geese. They are wild, but clip their wings and in a few years you would have excellent eggs, excellent meat."
Don made a gesture to a secretary. "See that the hunters capture alive as many of those birds as possible and bring them to Tenochtitlan."
One of the other Spaniards said, "Those peccaries, or whatever they call them. They are very similar to pigs. I once tasted their meat. It is similar to pork."
Don said to his Indians, "Where do they come from?" One said, "To the far, far north."
"Send an expedition to acquire as many as possible—alive."
"What else?" he said to the Spanish, who were becoming increasingly fascinated by the whole prospect.
"There are also mountain sheep. What they taste like, I could not know. But they should yield a fairly good wool. What is all this for?"
Don said, "The wool we can also use. But the big project is building up the protein content of this diet. In the long run, we'll wind up with a bigger people."
They continued through the zoo, and as they went, Don talked less and listened more. These were pros who had gotten the fundamental idea and, with their backgrounds, instinctively liked it. The prisoner and warden atmosphere evaporated. They had the feel of the thing. Mountain goats, mountain sheep, various fowl, wild pig; it all obviously intrigued them. What, Don
wondered vaguely, brings a man farm-raised to become a soldier? They even studied the bison, the American buffalo. But that set them back. It was the nearest thing to a horse, or a cow for that matter, that they had seen in Mexico, but none would admit to a desire to domesticate it. Not that it was particularly important. Don had no idea how far north you had to go before you could capture the lumbering plains dwellers. He did know they could be domesticated, even saddled and ridden.
He assigned one of the Spanish-speaking Indian boys to the farmers and returned to the tecpan. They had enough on their hands to last them indefinitely and were interested enough to carry it through on their own. He would assign them a subchief or scribe to see that their needs were fulfilled and then let them develop it their own way. One good thing about this set, they wouldn't think of themselves as traitors. If the Spanish won out, any work they had done would redound to the Spanish cause.
At the tecpan he rounded up the Spanish sailors and sent them with double the number of Aztecs to get the ships and begin the process of training the Indians to sail them.
He discussed glass with his sole glassblower and found the other was of the opinion that he could improvise equipment to turn out a rather low-quality product. Don gave him the go-ahead.
Several of the Spanish gentlemen had attended the university in Salamanca, Spain. He made them teachers in his rapidly expanding school and instructed them to introduce the metric system, among other things.
He queried around among the Indians, particularly the pochteca traders, who were by far the most traveled of the Aztecs, and described petroleum to them. And, yes, they were aware of the black stuff. About three days north of Vera Cruz was a place where it bubbled up into the lakes and rivers. It could be scooped out and would bum. Sometimes it was thicker and could be used as black paint.
"Tar," Don said. Very well, he gave his staff orders to outfit an expedition carrying large pots to go and acquire a large quantity of both. Wasn't there some other form in which petroleum turned up in nature? Asphalt? He didn't know.
That brought something else to mind. How did you make kerosene from petroleum? Distillation, wasn't it? He knew nothing about petroleum products and nothing about distillation. However, he ran into luck once more. Two of his farmers had worked in the vineyards in Spain and one knew how to distill wine to make "spirits." Don put him to work building a still, acquiring the copper for the coils from the market in Tlaltelolco. The blacksmiths worked it into tubing.
He was working, these days, sixteen hours a day from dawn until dark. He would have worked later still, but the only type of illumination was torch and that was inadequate for paperwork. Possibly the petroleum would end that. How did you make a lamp? Hell, the Greeks had solved that one!
More of the Spanish were coming over to him daily as they saw the advantages of collaboration. They were opportunists to a man, Don decided grimly. He had given his collaborators a superior diet, better quarters, and had even allowed them women. When they had been in command of the city, many of the soldiers had acquired Aztec mistresses. Some of them had even had their girls baptized and married them. Don now encouraged these to return. The noncollaborators were not allowed this privilege.
His clothes were really rags now. At long last he took them to the quarters where the seamstresses worked to be duplicated as best they could. He introduced them to the concept of the button-hole and button.
And then he ran into Malinche. She was evidently as clever with a needle as the next woman.
The city by this time was an armed camp. Most men of military age carried arms and participated in daily drill.
Malinche said, her head high again, "And you alone in all Tenochtitlan wear clothes like these, carry no shield or weapons, in a time when the city prepares to fight for its very existence?"
He sighed and said, "Yes, I alone, Malinche."
"When the time comes, even women will fight. We will stand on the rooftops and throw large stones on the invaders. Where will you be then, Don Fielding?"
He looked at her in sour amusement. "Out of the way of the fighting, if possible," he told her levelly.
He had come to peace with himself on the subject. Let war be fought by such as Cuauhtemoc whose profession it was. If Mexico was to be dragged by the scruff of the neck from a Neolithic culture into the sixteenth century, Don was not expendable. At least he—unique in the world of 1519—had been vaccinated for smallpox!
Assistance came from an unexpected source when the pochteca expedition returned from Tarascan country with the copper and other metals. The trading mission had met with all-out success, and the several hundred porters who had gone along were weighted down with copper and smaller amounts of other metals, including gold, silver, and even a little lead.
Botello Puerto de Plata, the supposed astrologer of the Spanish army, had listed himself as a soothsayer as his former occupation when Don Fielding had taken roll call.
However, when Don called on the blacksmiths and the miners to look at his collection of metals and tell him if they recognized tin, the dark-visaged Botello came along.
He pointed at some of the ingots. "That isn't silver. It's tin."
Don looked at him. "How do you know?"
"When I was a boy, I was apprenticed to an alchemist."
"An alchemist! For how long?" If there was anything Don needed it was a chemist—no matter how primitive a chemist.
"For but two years. He blew himself up. But at least I know the metals. He was attempting to produce gold from the baser ones."
Don turned back to his blacksmiths. "I assume that none of you know how to make bronze from copper and tin. You'll have to experiment at the proportions. As soon as you come up with a suitable hard product, we will begin the manufacture of bronze spear-and arrowheads. We will send you more metalworkers and you can train them, scores of them. Train them in shifts. At this time they need to learn to make nothing save spear-and arrowheads."
Don turned back to the subchief who had captained the expedition to Tarasca. "As soon as some of the other trade groups have returned from the south, acquire more of the things the Tarascans desire and return to trade for more of this tin."
"It's name is amochitl," the pochteca said. "And there are other areas where it is found, particularly near Taxco, to the south."
Don turned to one of his secretary-scribes. "Get a list of all tribes that mine amochitl. Send expeditions to acquire all we can, as well as all the copper. Promise anything; barter anything for it; urge the people to intensify their attempts to get both of these." He added under his breath, "We've just left the Stone Age and entered the Bronze Age; Iron, coming up."
From time to time messengers came in with news of the Spanish. Don had been right. New ships appeared, one or two at a time, once a small fleet of three. The Captain-General was acquiring his reinforcements and new supplies. And then the word came that Martin Lopez, the shipwright, was constructing brigantines in the Tlaxcan river. Don Fielding had expected that but was dismayed that it was getting under way so soon. He couldn't remember from his former reading how long it had been between the Cortes retreat to Tlaxcala and his return, but he had thought he had more time than this.
The Aztec chiefs were flabbergasted at the news. They couldn't imagine what the Spanish had in mind. How could they possibly get the small ships over the mountains to the lake near Tetzcuco? However, Don knew the story. The Spanish would first build the brigantines, then dismantle them and haul them all the way on the backs of the porters. Then they'd assemble them in the lake near Tetzcuco.
That brought something else to mind. The still was now in operating order. Don had the Indians bring large amounts of pulque, their drink fermented from maguey. He stood and watched as the veteran vintner ran the first batch through. Tequila had been born.
But Don Fielding wasn't, at least at this point, particularly interested in introducing distilled potables to the Aztecs, or even to the Spanish, who could probably handle it better. He had
his distiller run it through again and again until he got as close to pure alcohol as he could get.
Then he went to his glassblower and had him blow several narrow-necked bottles of about a quart capacity. The glass was crude in appearance, and not transparent, but useable. When these were completed, he filled two of them with the alcohol and stoppered them with rags.
He summoned Cuitlahuac and some of his chiefs and assembled them in the great square. One of the smaller structures was of wood, a minor temple to some forest god.
The Aztecs were mystified. Don took out his matches, lit the rag, which protruded slightly from one of the bottle necks, and quickly heaved the alcohol bottle at the wooden structure. He kept his fingers crossed that it would work, especially this first time. It would be a hell of an anticlimax if he had to make two tries.
It worked. The bottle splattered up against the wooden wall, the alcohol splashed every which way and immediately took fire—colorless shimmering heat waves that ignited the wood.
Don threw his second bottle with equivalent results. The building was ablaze. He turned to the Aztec chiefs who were staring, bug-eyed.
"What ... what is it?" Cuitlahuac blurted. "Magic of the gods, that you have water that bums?"
"It's the first Molotov cocktail," Don said in satisfaction. "And the Spanish have some surprises coming when they bring those tar-caulked brigantines down here. But no, it isn't magic. It is a new weapon which I will show your people how to make. We need more young men to learn to make glass and to distill pulque." He thought about it. Perhaps kerosene or gasoline would be better, if he could only figure out how to distill them. What was fractional distillation? He knew the words, but that was about all. If he only had time!
By now, all of the Spanish had been seduced from their patriotism, such as it was. Only Padre Diaz and the page, Orteguilla, held out, and neither of them was of the slightest importance. Even Sandoval grudgingly succumbed, gave his parole, and volunteered to help train the Indian warriors to ride. The first class of horsemen had already graduated and a new group was being rushed through the course.
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