by David Bowles
Rage surged in Popocatzin, a fury that dwarfed any lust for war he had ever felt. Seizing his macana, he raced up the temple steps and beheaded Xinantecatl with a single, mighty swing. He turned to his beloved’s corpse and loosed a bereaved howl that shook the heavens. Then he scooped Iztaccihuatl up in his arms and fled the city without a word.
Trekking back across the wilderness, Popocatzin came at last to the Sierra Nevada and climbed up onto the vast glaciers till he had reached the highest point on the sea-ringed world. Then he turned his face to the heavens and roared, “Mighty gods, hear my plea! Do not take Iztaccihuatl from me, Mothers and Fathers! Send her soul winging back to this cold body! Let these limbs move once more! Let me embrace the woman I love and find her living and warm! Do you not comprehend? I swore I would be by her side forever!”
There was no response. The gods either would not or could not respond. Popocatzin laid the corpse of Iztaccihuatl down and knelt at her side, weeping and raving against the cosmos.
Finally the gods had mercy. They did not revive the princess. Rather, they fused Popocatzin’s soul with the ancient volcano and melded Iztaccihuatl’s supine body with the mountain range, reshaping peaks till they resembled a sleeping woman. Now the brave warrior could keep his vow—the two lovers will remain there, together, as long as this age is permitted to endure.
King Acolnahuacatl, devastated himself by the clear betrayal, at first gave his general time to grieve while he dealt with the remaining conspirators. But when Popocatzin did not return, he sent his men out to track the warrior down. His trail led them to the Sierra Nevada, where, dumbstruck, they beheld the snowy silhouette of their sovereign’s youngest daughter rising above the city of Huexotzinco.
Smoke was curling from the larger neighboring volcano, and suddenly a groaning howl thrummed the earth, ending in an explosion of fire and ash that lifted toward the heavens like an angry supplication.
The men of Azcapotalco understood what had transpired. They returned and told their king. The story of the two lovers slowly spread. The people of the highlands renamed the volcanoes in honor of their undying love: the dormant one became Iztaccihuatl, the white woman, and the active one was named Popocatepetl, smoking mountain.
To this day, the soul of the warrior remembers his loss from time to time. His raging grief darkens the skies and sets the world to trembling.
Tenochtitlan
Generations passed in Colhuacan as Popocatepetl wreathed dark smoke over the highlands and Iztaccihuatl slumbered beneath her mantle of snow. The Mexica who lived among the Colhuas had thrived and grown, becoming an integral part of the community. Some two centuries after abandoning Chicomoztoc at their god’s command, the tribe bound the years for a fifth time, electing as governor Tenoch, a highly respected general.
Around this time, a Colhua nobleman named Achitometl decided to wrest control of Colhuacan from King Acamapichtli the First. He arranged for the king’s assassination, installing himself as regent in the aftermath.
Then did Huitzilopochtli appear to Tenoch in a dream, saying, “O, my son, listen! It is time for Yaocihuatl, War Woman, my grandmother the Protector, to come and shield my people. The moment has come to leave this place. You will lead your nation to the seat of its power at long last. It is my will you dominate and enslave, not be dominated and enslaved! We will not bother with friendly overtures and requests of the Colhuas. No. We will incite war, bloody war. Dress yourself in your greatest finery, Tenochtzin. Go before the regent and ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage. She will be given unto you, that I swear. And then I will reveal my plan.”
Tenoch approached Achitometl with an extravagance and elegance of speech to rival the Toltecs themselves, explaining the value of uniting their bloodlines and creating a broader base of political support for the regent. After some deliberation, Achitometl agreed.
The Mexica arranged a splendid wedding in Tizaapan, a rite of such pomp and circumstance as Colhuacan had never seen. But Huitzilopochtli spoke again to Tenoch, explaining his terrible purpose. “O my son, you must kill and flay this Colhua princess, and then your high priest must don her skin and come before Achitometl.”
As attendants worked to prepare the princess, Mexica warriors burst into the room and killed her. The high priest Cuauhcoatl then carefully flensed her skin away from the meat and slid his limbs into the bloody garment of flesh.
“Come,” called Tenoch to the regent, his council and his guards. “Look upon the goddess Cihuacoatl made flesh!”
Achitometl and his retinue drew closer, and Cuauhcoatl emerged. It was dark, so the regent could not make out the figure standing before him. As the incense he lit flared up, Achitometl cried out in despair:
“They have flayed my daughter! O Colhua lords, we will rout these evil bastards, killing all we can!”
They rushed off to rouse their batallions. Tenoch gathered his people and without delay led them hurrying from that land. The Colhuas were soon chasing at their heels. After repeated skirmishes, the Mexica reached the reedy swamps that divided Lake Texcoco from Lake Xochimilco. There they plunged into the shallow, briny water.
There was no escape. The cities that dotted the lakeshore were either allies of the Colhuas or enemies who had no love at all for the Mexica. Their pursuers rushed into the marshlands after them.
To survive, the tribe needed a miracle.
Tenoch had led his people out of bondage, but now the Mexica found themselves floundering in the marshes along the edge of Lake Texcoco. The Colhua warriors who had harried them retreated a bit, waiting. The Mexica could go nowhere. Water was to their north and west. Their enemy camped to the east and south.
Looking around at the thousands of his fellow tribesmen struggling to stay alive in the pestilent swamps, Tenochca had a flash of inspiration. He moved his people into the lake proper. Women and children were seated in the curved inner surfaces of shields. Warriors began to swim, gripping the edges to propel the makeshift boats toward the northwest. Others set about lashing spears and arrows together to make rafts. Several trips were needed, but Tenoch moved his people to the rocky, uninhabited island in the middle of the lake. The Colhua returned to their homeland, leaving a garrison to watch the shore.
“Surely the Mexica will perish,” the commanders said. “No one can survive on that blasted isle.”
As the Mexica reached the relative safety of the island, the women began to search about for food along the reedy shoreline, finding fish aplenty. They urged the men to build a temazcal or sweat lodge with which to wash away impurities and bad luck. This was done. Cleansed search parties discovered water fowl and fresh springs hidden within the reedy depths of the island.
That evening a palpable sense of excitement settled over the Mexica. With little more than their weapons and clothes, they gathered round fires on the sand and rock and marsh, staring up at the stars and singing ancient songs.
When sleep and silence finally reigned, High Priest Cuauhcoatl heard a voice in his dreams:
“O faithful servant! Your people have discovered the bounty I have prepared for you upon this uncharted isle. Heed closely, however, for there is something more for you to see. Do you recall my prophecy? Head north from here, and you will soon discover the eagle, waiting joyfully on a cactus that grows upon the stone, the tenochtli of legend. Copil’s heart enriched that meager soil till my sign could rise. There will you establish yourselves, you will wait, you will encounter diverse peoples, ours in heart and head. With arrow and shield you will confront the neighboring nations and conquer them, make them vassals.
“There upon that spot my kingdom is born: Tenochtitlan, jewel of Mexico, domain of the Mexica, where the eagle screams and wings the skies and seizes prey, where the myriad fish swim, where the serpent is ripped open. Tenochtitlan, where wonders will surely be wrought!”
Instantly awake, the high priest roused the governor and his council, telling them of the vision. The search began at dawn. Within hours, Tenoch and his men c
ame to the place, a stony field beside a cave. A single cactus stood in that rocky soil. Upon it perched an eagle, tearing at the flesh of a serpent with its beak. It lifted its head as they approached, then bent again to its task. All around were scattered feathers of every hue and type: blue cotinga, scarlet ibis, emerald quetzal. Strewn amongst these were the skulls of hundreds of precious birds, along with bones and claws.
Huitzilopochtli spoke then for every man, woman and child to hear, “O Mexica, you are home at last!”
And they all wept for joy, crying out, “The promised land! The dream of generations, finally realized! Let us gather up the others. Then we build his temple and our city.”
It was the year 2-House: 1325 anno domini in the reckoning of the men beyond the sea.
The first order of business was the resting place of Huitzilopochtli. Gathering dirt from all parts of the island, the Mexica raised a platform, building upon it a tlalmomoztli, an altar of clayey earth. Though the holy site was miserable and poor, there they set the image of their god, there they laid his bundled bones to rest. On that reedy isle, what else could they offer? Where was there wood or proper stone for masonry? These were disputed lands, claimed by the Tepaneca and the Colhua alike, but neither nation had fought that hard for the barren bit of water-logged land. There was nothing of value within its meager swamps.
“Perhaps we could throw ourselves on the mercy of Azcapotzalco,” some suggested.
“King Acolnahuacatl would simply become enraged,” Tenoch countered. “No, we must have something to trade for the materials we need.”
Other leaders had an idea. “We could barter the plentiful life teeming among the reeds: fish, crayfish, tadpoles, frogs, dragonflies and their larvae, ducks and mallards.”
Tenoch agreed. They set about catching and hunting as much as they could. In small towns along the shore, they traded for wood and stone. Then there beside the cave, upon the earthen platform, they laid down the root of their city: the house, the temple of Huitzilopochtli. It was a small place of worship, but they built it well.
Soon their god spoke once more through his high priest, “Settle now, and spread. Divide the land in four sections and let every Great House establish its borough. Let the gods of each group be distributed.”
So the Mexica did, forming the enduring quarters of Tenochtitlan: Moyotlan, Teopan, Aztacalco, and Cuepohpan, the four districts arrayed around the ceremonial center where Huitzilopochtli’s temple rose above the reed huts. It was a time of great celebration, for they were no longer simply Mexica: they were now Tenochca as well, citizens of Tenochtitlan.
For twelve years the city slowly built itself up through trade, avoiding military clashes as much as possible. But internal strife was building. In the year 1-House or 1337, the city suffered a schism. The dissidents headed to the northern end of the island, where they discovered a mound of earth that they took for a sign. They established a new city on that spot that they called Tlatelolco.
As Governor Tenoch aged and the religious responsibilities in the growing ceremonial center increased, the council decided that the executive functions of leadership should be divided. They called upon the well-respected head of House Tlacatecpan, the priestess Ilancueitl, to manage the social and religious inner workings of Tenochtitlan. Tenoch would continue to handle diplomacy, trade and defense. The title of cihuacoatl was established for Ilancueitl, whose part Colhua ancestry included the Toltec roots that the Tenochca valued as lending legitimacy to their self-determination.
In the last year of Tenoch’s life, the people of Tenochtitlan learned that Tlatelolco had appealed to the new king of Azcapotzalco, Tezozomoc, requesting that he install his son Cuacuauhpitzahuac as sovereign of that Mexica city. The Tepanecan ruler had agreed. Now the Tlatelolca would enjoy the benefits of an enduring partnership with Tezozomoc’s growing empire.
Not to be outdone, the Tenochca leadership sent envoys to Colhuacan. Some fifty years had passed since the Mexica had escaped Colhua lands, so King Nauhyotl was more receptive to the idea of reestablishing ties. After some deliberation, Nauhyotl suggested Acamapichtli, youngest son of Opochtli Iztahuatzin, the great Mexica warrior. The envoys found Acamapichtli in the city of Texcoco and convinced him to rule.
The coronation ceremony took place at the improved temple. There beside the altar the high priest anointed Acamapichtli with oil and water, setting the xiuhhuitzolli or emerald crown upon his brow. He now spoke for the Tenochca and was charged with protecting them and ensuring that their destiny continued to be fulfilled.
King Acamapichtli was married to the older Ilancueitl, who become the first queen. Though she never bore him a child, she managed his palace well and advised him on many successful endeavors. The king also took a wife from each of the Great Houses, including Tezcatlan Miyahuatzin, second queen, whose friendship with her sister-wife Ilancueitl was legendary. In all, Acamapichtli married eight times and sired twelve children, chief among them Huitzilihuitl II, son of Tezcatlan Miyahuatzin, who was tutored by Ilancueitl.
Trade relations between Tenochtitlan and Azcapotzalco grew stronger and stronger, but the smaller, newer city found itself increasingly controlled by the Tepanecs until finally it became a vassal state, paying stiff tribute each year to King Tezozomoc. The Tenochca were also required to fight enemies of Azcapotzalco like Chalco. Once they had proven themselves in these battles, Tezozomoc permitted the warriors of Tenochtitlan to wage war against their own enemies as well, cities like Xochimilco and Cuauhnahuac.
During one of his many diplomatic trips to Azcapotzalco, Acamapichtli saw a striking young slave in the marketplace and fell instantly in love with her beauty. He bought her and installed her in Tenochtitlan as his mistress. This Tepaneca woman, who claimed to be descended from nobility, bore the king a son, Itzcoatl, who would rise above his mother’s subservient place in the world.
Though warfare and tribute took a toll on the city, Tenochtitlan continued improving itself, shipping in rock and soil to expand the island on the eastern, less briny side and establishing a system of chinampa gardens along the edges of the kingdom and on the adjacent lakeshore. Slowly, the descendants of Mexica from neighboring towns began to trickle into the city and intermarry with the Tenochca. A market was established. Soon canoes from every direction began to converge on the city, where strangers and travelers were treated with respect and allowed to sell their wares.
As the city grew more prosperous, its king and his council worked to establish a new temple atop the poor earth-and-stone construction. This small stone pyramid was dedicated not only to Huitzilopochtli, but also to Tlaloc, god of rain and fertility, whose aid the Tenochca direly needed to keep themselves alive in a place so hostile to agriculture.
The first laws of Tenochtitlan were codified during the reign of Acamapichtli. His diplomacy created many alliances and minimized military conflict. At the end of his twenty years as king, when he lay upon his deathbed, Acamapichtli had accomplished much that history would remember. His guidance had transformed nomads, exiles, and escaped captives into a viable citizenry with some influence and respect among the highlanders.
In his final days, Acamapichtli called together the calpoleh, the leaders of the Great Houses. Though the law did not specify that the kingship of Tenochtitlan was a hereditary title, only the prominent men of the city were candidates for the position. The king urged the calpoleh to elect a successor. Unanimously, they voted for his oldest son, Huitzilihuitl, a young man of some eighteen summers, battle-hardened and wise.
Confident his city was in the best hands, Acamapichtli abandoned the flesh and winged his way to paradise, where Huitzilopochtli greeted him with pomp and honor.
Tlacaelel and the Rise of the Mexica
Many kings would rule Tenochtitlan, their names emblazoned on the fabric of history forever. But one man was the true architect of the Mexica Way, his keen mind and stout heart guiding the leaders of Mexico for more than a full cycle through the dual calendar.
His
name was Tlacaelel.
Birth and Childhood
The year 10-Rabbit. 1398. Morning fog was roiling thick and white from the dark expanse of brackish Lake Texcoco like the smoke that curls from the god’s obsidian mirror to haze the minds of men and make them hate. Thunderheads had piled deep to obscure the rising of the vital sun. Spears of lightning jagged cracks across that amethyst gray as elemental tlaloques howled thunder.
At the heart of the mist coalesced that darkened day a swampy isle on which Tenochtitlan, the Mexica’s promised home, collectively prayed. The small stone palace had become the sum of the city’s hopes, the tribe’s long ambition.
The date was 3-Eagle. One ceremonial year before to the hour, the first prince, Chimalpopoca, had been born to Queen Ayauhcihuatl, the lovely daughter of King Tezozomoc whom Huitzilihuitl had wed in order to cement ties with Azcapotzalco. Now the other two wives of the young ruler fought like valiant warriors to give birth.
The city’s sovereign, skin crisscrossed with white scars though he had barely lived through twenty summers, stood in the throne room, ringed by his royal council, his silence contrasting with the muffled commands of midwives. Present also were his younger brothers, their wives, and his infant son Chimalpopoca, rocked by a nurse to restless sleep, a shield for his cradle. A man accustomed to battle and hard-won pact, Huitzilihuitl was now forced to idly wait and not to act. Birth was the domain of the Mother and the Protector. Men were superfluous.
Soon the midwife attending Queen Cacamacihuatl began to give war cries, praising the young mother for being victorious in battle, for having captured a baby. She held up the infant and spoke to him, “You have arrived on earth, beloved boy! Our true father, the Lord of the Near and the Nigh, the creator of human souls, has winged you to the sea-ringed world, this place of fatigue and thirst and hunger. Here there is no rest, no joy, no satisfaction. Perhaps you will survive a while, Prince. Could you be our prize? Maybe you will learn of your lineage, meet your family, join our community.
