Feathered Serpent, Dark Heart of Sky

by David Bowles

  Death also brought another queen to the throne a century later. When King Nauhyotl fell victim of age, Tollan unanimously selected his wife Xiuhtlaltzin as his successor. During four peaceful years, the queen managed public affairs with a wisdom and strength that rivaled her husband’s statecraft. Upon her passing, the Toltecs mourned like children bereft.

  Of course, not all of Tollan’s queens were widows continuing the work of their husbands. In the 11th century, a noble named Itztacxilotzin—“White Maize”—was crowned sovereign. After establishing a palace beside the Izquitlan River, she governed in Tollan with a council of women at her side until her death eleven years later.

  During their wandering, the Toltecs had forgotten the gift of pulque given to humanity by Lord Opossum so many millennia before. But not long after Itztacxilotzin’s reign, a sixteen-year-old girl rediscovered the recipe while helping her father Papatzin to store agave nectar harvested from his fields. When her family realized the value of this miraculous drink, they brought her before the new king, the young and handsome Tepalcatzin.

  The ruler was fascinated by the beverage, but even more so by Xochitl’s beauty.

  “Loyal Papatzin,” he said to her father, “please permit your daughter to remain in the palace so she may teach the women on my staff to prepare this delightful brew.”

  Papatzin reluctantly agreed. Tepalcatzin was already married, but Queen Maxio had only given him daughters. It was not unusual in such cases for a king to take a second wife, but Papatzin worried about his daughter’s treatment by the older woman. She was so lovely and so intelligent—just the combination to enrage a first wife whose husband has lost interest in her.

  While living on the royal estate, Xochitl found herself surrounded by bright green maguey plants and rows of huisaches and rose bushes whose gold and scarlet flowers spread sweet perfume throughout her room. In the midst of such sensory delight, the king approached her with rich gifts and words of love.

  “Xochitl, all this beauty fades alongside you. The artisanship for which Tollan is known has found its maximum expression in your dark hair and eyes. Such ineffable qualities belong on a mat of power at my side. Will you consent to be my queen?”

  “But you have a queen, my lord.”

  “Ah, but this last pregnancy has left her weak and ill. I fear her time in this illusory world draws to an end.”

  Over the days and weeks, Tepalcatzin wooed Xochitl without ceasing. She at last relented. Her parents, worried at so long a stay, called upon the king, who announced their betrothal. The two were married, and in time a son was born. The king, wanting to pay homage to the beverage that had brought his love to his side, named the boy Meconetzin—child of the maguey.

  When Maxio finally succumbed, Xochitl was proclaimed queen of Tollan. Wise and compassionate beyond measure, she ruled at her husband’s side for decades, a peaceful reign until civil war broke out among the Toltecs.

  As warriors loyal to the king were decimated and Tepalcatzin deposed, an aging Xochitl called on the mothers and daughters of Tollan to fight by her side.

  “We are the heart of the sea-ringed world! We are the citadel amidst the reeds! We are the skilled hands that reshape the cosmos! Tollan shall not fall! Take up those spears, dear sisters, once brandished by your husbands and brothers and sons! Take up their bucklers, their feathered helms! Today we abandon the hearth, rush beyond these walls—today we fight!”

  Queen Xochitl led the furious battallion of women during the king’s last stand near the town of Xochitlalpan. There she hacked and slew many rebel warriors before falling at last under the obsidian blades of the enemy.

  Her fierce Toltec sisters carried the body of their beloved queen from the field, laying it beside her husband’s broken corpse, taking a moment to entrust her to the Lady of Death.

  Then, screaming her name, they flung themselves back into the fray.

  The Brothers Incarnated

  Such was the cycle as the Fifth Age progressed—kingdoms rose and fell down the long count of years, often due to struggles between factions of gods. At last, the Feathered Serpent saw that it was time for him to descend into the world as a man, to more directly guide his beloved creation toward a path of enlightenment and beauty.

  His brother, learning of this plan, decided in secret to do the same.

  In those distant, hazy years of the legendary past, there existed a town known to us as Michatlauhco. On its outskirts lived a woman that had once loved a god: Chimalman, who had snatched from the air swift arrows shot by the hunter god Mixcoatl. He had found the woman warrior lovely, so he had slept with her. Nine months later she bore him a daughter, Quetzalpetlatl.

  Not many years afterward, Chimalman was sweeping the temple of Quilaztli when she discovered a piece of green jade. On impulse, nudged by forces she could not comprehend, she placed the stone on her tongue and swallowed it. Soon she realized she was pregnant, clearly by the will of the Divine Mother.

  At the end of the thirteenth year of that calendar cycle, Chimalman went into labor. For four days she struggled to bring her child into the world, aided by midwives and priestesses. Early on the morning of the last named day of the year, 1-Reed, her pain ended: a baby boy emerged into the world.

  But the next five days were the nemontemi or uncounted days, perilous times for human beings. Chimalman was beset by all manner of evils. Before the Lord of Time had been renewed by sacrifice, she was dead.

  The newborn and his toddler sister were sent to live with their grandparents, who at first called the boy Ce Acatl—One Reed—for the day of his birth. Soon, however, the boy’s horoscope was drawn up and his baptism performed, at which point he was given the name Quetzalcoatl in honor of the Feathered Serpent.

  When Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl reached the age of nine, he began to wonder about his heritage, especially his father’s identity.

  “What is my father like?” he asked his sister.

  “I do not know, Brother. He left when I was very little.”

  “Can I see my father?” he then asked his grandparents. “I wish to look upon his face.”

  Though his mother’s family did not know the whereabouts of Mixcoatl, they called out to him in prayer, tipping out libations of blood and wine. When the hunter god finally came, he was presented with Quetzalpetlatl, his daughter, and Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl, who was believed by all to be his son. Mixcoatl could see teotl glowing brightly in them both, but he was drawn especially to the boy. Though inwardly he knew Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl could not be his son, he agreed to take him for a time.

  For the entire year of 10-Flint, the boy learned to hunt and fight at his erstwhile father’s side in the land of Xihuacan. But Mixcoatl’s three surviving brothers—the last of the Cenzton Mimixcoah or Four Hundred Cloud Serpents whom the hunter god had slaughtered and thrown as stars into the northern sky—were jealous of the boy and decided to kill him. Apantecuhtli, Tlohtepetl and Cuauhtliicoauh conferred for a good while before coming up with a wily plan.

  First they tricked their nephew into visiting Tlachinoltepec, a massive boulder around which inexplicable flames raged at certain times of day. Leaving him at its base, they hurried away to watch. But Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl sensed the coming of the fire and slipped into a tunnel in the rock. His uncles left, believing him burned alive.

  After a time, the boy emerged unscathed. Taking up his bow and arrow, he killed some game. He hurried home, the kill thrown across his shoulders, and arrived at his father’s side before his uncles, who were dumbfounded when they saw him.

  Next the three villains took him to a great tree and had him climb up into its highest boughs to better shoot at the birds that winged their way through the sky. Once he was installed in those branches, the three began to loose bolts at him. Discretely, Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl let himself fall to the ground and pretended to be dead. His uncles imagined him shot and killed, so they immediately left.

  The boy then got to his feet and slew a rabbit, which he took to his father bef
ore the uncles arrived. Mixcoatl at this point suspected that his brothers meant to murder his adopted son, so he asked Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl where his uncles were.

  “Oh, they are on their way, Father.”

  “I see. Son, I have an errand for you.” And he sent the boy to a nearby house, meaning to confront his brothers alone.

  When they arrived, he asked them without hesitation:

  “Why are trying to kill my son? Do you not remember the fate of our other brothers?”

  The three, expecting just such a query, had prepared themselves. Before he could react, they fell on Mixcoatl and killed him, dragging his corpse off toward the desert and burying him in the sand.

  When Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl returned from his errand, he found his father gone. The boy went about, asking everyone he saw, “Where’s my father?”

  Finally Cozcacuauhtli, the king vulture, answered him:

  “Your uncles have killed your father. He lies over yonder, buried in the sand. I’ll show you.”

  His hands shaking, the boy soon dug up the corpse of Mixcoatl, bundled it properly, and took it to his father’s temple, Mixcoateopan. His uncles learned of the funeral rites and approached him. “The Northern Stars will be enraged if you do not dedicate this temple correctly. You cannot sacrifice a simple rabbit or snake, boy. This requires an eagle, a wolf, a jaguar.”

  “Very well,” Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl responded. Going into the wilderness, he called to the eagle, the wolf, the jaguar. “My true uncles,” he said to them formally, “come. They say I must dedicate my father’s temple with your blood. But you will not die. Instead, you will dine on the flesh of the men I shall use to sanctify Mixcoateopan: my human uncles themselves!”

  Tying leads around their necks for appearances’ sake, the boy conducted the three animals to the temple. His uncles seized the ropes, laughing. “Thank you, knave. Now we will be the ones to drill fire upon the temple platform and sacrifice them!”

  Though his uncles barred him from entering, Ce Acatl summoned gophers to his aid. “Uncles, come! Help me dig my way into the temple.” The creatures made short work of it, and soon the boy had slipped inside and made his way to the platform.

  Apantecuhtli, Tlohtepetl, and Cuauhtliicoauh had been rejoicing and making merry. By the time they regained their senses and emerged onto the platform, their nephew was already drilling the fire for the sacrifice. They rushed at the boy, Apantecuhtli in the lead, but Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl smashed a metal pot into his uncle’s head, sending him tumbling. The animals seized the other two. As the fire blazed bright, they tore out the hearts of the last Mimixcoa and consigned their bodies to the flames.

  Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl returned to his grandparents then and resumed the life of a noble boy his age. He attended school in the temple, learned to adore the gods and mortify the flesh, studied the lore and paintings of his people, acquired greater skill in the use of spear and shield and bow. As a young man he fought campaigns in Ayotlan and Chalco, Xicco and Cuixcoc, Zacanco and Tzonmolco. He rose quickly through the ranks, becoming captain and then general before finally serving as adviser to the king.

  But a deeper longing filled his soul, a thirst for knowledge that warfare and sacrifice could not acquire. So at the age of twenty-eight, Ce Acatl Quetzacoatl took leave of his men and his king and left for Tollantzinco, a land of fertile valleys and volcanic peaks. There he built a hermitage in the mountains and spent four years fasting and meditating.

  News of his turquoise and timber cabin spread throughout the land. He was consulted by the shamans of Tollantzinco, who were awed by the depth of his wisdom. Soon word of this philosopher reached the ears of Ihuitimal, ailing and heirless king of Tollan. He had Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl brought before him, and they talked long and intently about the cosmos and humanity’s role in it.

  The king was greatly impressed. At his urging, the council of Tollan offered the physical and spiritual leadership of the city to Quetzalcoatl, who accepted, filled with visions of the transformations he would work on the kingdom and in the hearts of its inhabitants. He sent for his sister Quetzalpetlatl, who lived alone now that their grandparents had died, and she joined him in Tollan.

  When King Ihuitimal of Tollan finally passed into the House of the Sun, Quetzalcoatl was enthroned at the age of thirty-one. His people called him Topiltzin, “our beloved prince.” He brought a decade of great peace, prosperity, and artistic flowering to mighty Tollan. He introduced great wealth to the city—precious stones like jade and turquoise, precious metals like gold and silver, precious gifts of the sea like coral and pearl, precious feathers from cotingas, ibis, herons, and orioles. He himself was a great artisan, producing beautiful earthenware and textiles, inspiring his subjects to rise to greater and greater heights until, across the sea-ringed world, the word Toltec, citizen of Tollan, became a synonym for master craftsman.

  Spiritual enlightenment, however, was still the primary objective of Topiltzin Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl. He built four houses of fasting, prayer, penance, and praise throughout the city: one of turquoise beams, one faced in coral, one inlaid with whiteshell, one festooned with quetzal plumes. After spending his evenings in one of these special houses, he would go down to a shrine at the water’s edge, amongst the reeds, to draw blood from his flesh with penitential thorns and spines he crafted from jade and quetzal quills. From time to time he took sabbaticals in the mountains, burning incense there atop the craggy peaks of Xicolotl, Huitzco, Tzincoc, Nonoalco.

  And ever at his side was his older sister Quetzalpetlatl. Their ecstatic prayers echoed in the skies. They cried out to all the doubled gods—Citlalinicue and Citlalantoc, Tonacacihuatl and Tonacatecuhtli, Tecolliquenqui and Eztlaquenqui, Tlallamanac and Tlalichcatl. They strove to pierce the heavens with their hearts and peer into Omeyocan, the place of duality from which our grandparents wing our souls to the sea-ringed world. Those two, source of all, looked down contentedly on their beloved son, pleased with his prayers, his humility, his contrition.

  And in the silence of his penance, they whispered to the philosopher-king of Tollan:

  “Remember.”

  Rising in Topiltzin Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl was a surety that the world could be better. His own blood offerings were merely snakes, birds, butterflies. Gradually he eradicated human sacrifice from Tollan, driving out the priests and sorcerers who refused to accept his new vision.

  Among these exiled necromancers was Tezcatlipoca, a powerful priest who had torn many hearts from the chests of many warriors to ensure sun, rain, crops. He despised the weakness he perceived in his king, and he worked in secret to turn the city against the new laws. But the Toltecs loved Topiltzin Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl with too great a fealty to be swayed. Even as their ruler became more and more of a recluse, rarely leaving his houses of penance or mountaintop retreats to walk the streets of Tollan, his subjects would find no fault in his leadership in that year of 2-Reed, a decade after he had been enthroned.

  Long black hair clotted with blood, robes filthy and tattered, Tezcatlipoca took up his staff and searched for his colleagues: Ihuimecatl and Tlacahuepan, powerful sorcerers and shape-shifters, both.

  “We must torment this weak-hearted fool,” he told them, “and force him to abandon the city. Then Tollan will be returned unto our hands. We will grease the wheels of time with glorious gore.”

  “He has exchanged the human payment for his strange sacraments,” Tlacahuepan said. “So let us brew pulque and make him drink. He will become besotted and forget his penance, his fasting, his prayers. His shame will then drive him hence.”

  Ihuimecatl had another stratagem in mind. “We should undermine his lauded humility by appealing to his sense of vanity. Let him adorn himself in the full regalia of a god, let an effigy of him be placed in the temple, and he will abandon his cowardly ways.”

  Tezcatlipoca nodded. “Yes. Yes. But first let us give him the means to see his own form for what it really is.”

  The other two agreed, so Tezcatlipoca began. Wr
apping up a small obsidian mirror, he altered his appearance to seem a young man and approached the house of fasting where Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl was doing penance.

  “Please inform the High Priest,” he said to the guards, “that young Telpochtli has arrived to show him, to deliver unto him, his true form.”

  The guards did as Tezcatlipoca bid. The king asked, “What does he mean, venerable guards? What is my ‘true form?’ Go, examine what he has brought and then we shall let him enter.”

  But Tezcatlipoca would not permit them. “I myself must show him.”

  When Quetzalcoatl heard this, he nodded. “Then let him enter, august ones.”

  Tezcatlipoca was ushered in. He greeted the sovereign of Tollan. “Our beloved prince and high priest Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl, I salute your Highness. I have come to show you your true form.”

  “Ah, venerable friend, you have wearied yourself. Whence came you? What is this ‘true form’ of which you speak? Show it to me.”

  “Your Majesty, I am but a humble subject of yours from the foot of Mount Nonohualco. As for your true form, you will behold it here.”

  Tezcatlipoca unwrapped the mirror, from which wisps of smoke curled at his touch. He placed it in Quetzalcoatl’s hands.

  “Look within this polished glass, dear Prince, and know yourself.”

  Quetzalcoatl peered at his reflection and stifled a scream. Dedicated to worship and penance alone, he had come to conceive of himself as a being of pure teotl, a spirit spun from Omeyocan, eternal and formless. So he was overcome with horror to see the aging flesh of his human face, wrinkled and scarred, eyes sunken and dark, brows furrowed and brooding. The dark magic of that smoking mirror went further, burrowing into his mind so he imagined the vivid passing of years, hair thinning, skin sagging and melting away to reveal bones that crumbled to powder dispersed by the indifferent winds of time.