Chapter 6
The moon was slowly rising in the sky as Xoctol crept out of bed. He was
careful to not wake his father or sister down the hall as he put on his clothes. He
then reached for another pair, and put the extra pair into a bundle. He grabbed his
bow then went downstairs. He added some food to the bundle then ran out the door. The
blast of cold air choked him for a minute, but he recovered himself and loked at his
surroundings. The dew from the night’s rain had made a puddle by the door. He looked
into it and smiled at his brawny frame. His years in the gold smith shop had toned
his body, but the smile quickly vanished when he heard a sound. He crept back into
the doorway and waited tensely, like an eagle about to strike. But he was relieved to
find it was only a merchant getting a head start on his competitors. Xoctol ran out
of the doorway and went off down the street. He went quickly, wanting to be far out
of sight before the city awoke. He planned on finding the field on which the whites
and Aztecs would battle on in the morning. He wanted to hide in the woods nearby and
possibly in the confusion join in the “slaughter.” Xoctol ran all that night under
the moon searching for the battleground, and just before dawn he found it. He
searched for a safe spot to rest for the few hours before daylight. He was exhausted
at the rigorous running but he was defiant in his will to at least see the battle.
There were some trees at the apex of a hill, with perfect view of the battle. It was
right on the side so if he wanted he could slip off in to the woods and chase some
whites, and nearby was a stream if he was thirsty. He settled down under some bushes
not caring about secrecy. But as he was falling into a deep sleep, he heard the sound
of voices nearby. He slowly got up, his head heavy with sleep and looked about him
searching for the disturber. He was terrified to spot some white men waling just a
few jaguar leaps away. Keeping his senses he crept into the underbrush trying to stay
hidden as best he could. He couldn’t hear the voices clearly but caught brief
sentences. They seemed to be talking about some location. He heard phrases like,
“this would be perfect,” “and they will never expect it.” Xoctol didn’t know what
these phrases meant, but he did know if they came nearer he would be spotted
instantly. He held his breath as he prayed to his gods. He was frightened at the
strange weapons they carried. They seemed to be long metal sticks but he could
observe the sharpness as he saw them cut through the sturdy vines like fruit. The
Aztec’s weapons were simply branches from a sturdy tree and sharpened. He began to
have doubts about the easiness of the battle. But he watched gratefully as they went
off through the woods. He quickly ran away into some more dense underbrush, and
settled down for more sleep.
The darkness faded as the sun rose claiming the sky once again. Xoctol rose to
hear the yelling of soldiers down in the valley. He got up and went to the stream
nearby to refresh himself. He dipped his fingers and feet into the oozing mud at the
bottom feeling the coolness of it, but the increasing din in the valley brought him
back to the situation at hand. He put water on his face waking himself up fully, then
collected his bow and ran off into the woods. He was reassured with the Aztec’s
chances when he saw the overwhelming numbers of his countrymen. The Aztec line
stretched all the way across the valley. The shouts of the Aztec leaders could be
heard all the way up the hill, but the white’s line was strangely silent as if they
were waiting for something. The Aztecs pulled out their weapons and put on their
armor then watched the whites, daring them to charge. But the whites still stood
watching, waiting. The Aztecs could no longer wait and with a cry they charged. The
sound of a million men echoed throughout the valley, but the whites still stood
waiting. Then a shout was heard, the whites raised their weapons, Xoctol watched
curiously as the whites put their odd swords to their shoulders. Then a huge
explosion sounded and smoke filled the air. Xoctol fell to the ground with shock, and
then rose again. He waited confused for the smoke to clear. There was chaos
among the men in the valley as the Aztecs ran into each other in the smoke, and
attacked each other not being able to determine enemy or friend. When the smoke
finally cleared Xoctol couldn’t believe it when he saw entire lines of the Aztecs
dead on the ground, while the whites stood unscathed. What was this witchcraft Xoctol
wondered. But Xoctol knew they couldn’t keep that up forever and sooner or later the
Aztecs would reach the white’s line. Xoctol stood up deciding now would be his best
time to join the battle. Then suddenly, he heard voices behind him. He searched the
hill and saw the vague outline of some white men hidden in the bushes holding their
ears near a huge hollowed out stump. Xoctol crept closer using his withy body trying
to stay hidden. He suddenly realized it was strange for tree to be pointed straight
out like that, when a piercing roar erupted from the tree. Thunder claps echoed down
the plain. Xoctol fell to ground, life was over, the gods must be coming to claim
back the earth he thought. He put his head on the ground trying to hide but he knew
it was useless, and he rubbed his dirty face with anguish. A powerful gust of wind
from the tree swept his head around. He looked down in the valley expecting to see it
empty of live bodies. But to his horror only the Aztecs were dead, the whites stood
unopposed. The few Aztecs who survived were shot dead with a final volley from the
white’s terrible weapons. What was this metal witchcraft, Xoctol wondered? He slowly
recovered his senses watching the whites celebrate, the sight of all his comrades
dead was too much for him. Xoctol crept off carrying his bow, stunned, bereaved, and
defeated.
Chapter 7
A slow rain broke out over the forest as Xoctol stumbled on. He was in a
daze from the events from yesterday. They still were affecting his mind as he went
forward through the woods back toward the city. The cries of the Aztecs, the
explosion of the metal witchcraft, and the destruction of his country men was
becoming too painful for him to consider. The exultancy of the Spanish was not yet
inaudible and Xoctol listened with anger. He faltered on, slowly regaining his senses
and wit, but he was exhausted and after blundering on for an hour he fell to the
ground, too tired to care about the wet soil. He fell asleep. The slow but steady
rain collected as Xoctol slept, but as the sun was creeping over the hills, he rolled
right into a puddle. He awoke suddenly from the cold wetness. He rose and with the
good night’s rest Xoctol was now at full strength, and with his mind rallied he
hurried off toward the city.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Part 2 of Xoctol
Chapter 3
For two hours Xoctol had already been working. The raucous sound of hammer against metal was gradually bringing the churning thoughts of yesterday’s activities out of his mind. He continued with his work diligently, trying to keep his mind off the bugs.
He tried to think about things he was looking forward to, like maybe practicing with his bow later with one of his many friends. He’d had the bow since he was a child, but it had been too big before. Now it was finally his size and he enjoyed his time with it. Bow’s were very rare with the Aztecs; most men used swords or spears. But he regretfully stopped daydreaming with a grunt for the noise in the street he could no longer ignore.
He reluctantly placed his hammer down and lifted the flap to see what had happened. He saw a large group of people arguing about something. He went closer to learn some more information and was surprised to hear them mention the white prisoner of the day before.
It seemed one of the people in the crowd was one of the guards of the white prisoner. He had spoken to the guard and told him of his homeland. Apparently there were thousands of white men less then a hundred miles away. And then farther away were millions of white men living on an entire continent. If he died he would soon be revenged he said.
These words filled the crowd with fear, but Xoctol knew better. He had seen the powerful army of the Aztecs and he wasn’t afraid. But it was a surprise for him, because he suddenly realized, the Aztecs were alone.
Chapter 4
The guard was right. Xoctol woke up to see his father rushing out the door. He asked him what had happened and was shocked to find that an army of white men had been sighted. They were still miles and miles away but Aztec runners had brought the
news in last night. The emperor tried to keep it a secret, but his father had heard the news
when he was delivering one of his gold products to a noble man. Xoctol rushed to get
dressed and ran outside undecided about what to do. He decided to check the streets to see if any new information had been discovered. He knew that as soon as one of the servants heard something, they would immediately spread the word to the streets, so it sounded like the best place to start. He was rewarded by sighting a crowd just a little farther down the road. He went nearer and heard the bad news about the rate at which the whites were coming. He learned that they are marching nonstop. At this rate, they would arrive in a week. The leaders were trying to keep it hidden but everyone knew that the Aztec army was preparing for warfare. They had begun training and messages had been sent out to the surrounding cities collecting men. While the Aztec generals were hard at work trying to determine whether to stay put and defend the city, or to take the offensive and attack the whites, Xoctol was confident that no matter which one was chosen, the Aztecs would win. After all there were rumors that there were only a few thousand whites, while the Aztecs could get an army of over one million. Yes the people’s fear isfoolish.
Chapter 5
A week had passed since Xoctol had laughed at the talk of the people. And life had drastically changed. The whites were pushing on with great avidity at the rumors of immense amounts of treasure. They were only a day’s journey away but the Aztec army was ready to fight. The priests had predicted a quick battle and the whites being utterly crushed. The emperor, confident of success decided to take the offensive and meet the whites out in the open. The army marched out with all of its grandeur. Xoctol glowed with anger at the memory of the soldier trainer’s response to his plea of joining the army.
The trainer had dismissed him with out even a word. Xoctol had been humiliated, but he wasn’t going to helplessly wait at the city. He was busy scheming a plan as he watched the queues of men walk by.
Husbands bidding goodbye to families, and promising a quick return. The noble soldiers led the procession in their finery, and the rest of the army followed arrayed in cotton armor and carrying impressive swords. The flags of the various cities were held high by their prestigious armies. And they strode out with the chiefs urging them on to make a better show for the people at the city. The emperor had not sent his entire army though. He being so confident of the advice of the priests, had left some of his best and most valiant soldiers at the city, the Jaguar warriors. Believing it to be a quick battle he wanted to keep them fresh for more pressing matters. Xoctol watched the army, but he was not only watching. A circumvention in his mind slowly began to form as the army faded into the distance.
For two hours Xoctol had already been working. The raucous sound of hammer against metal was gradually bringing the churning thoughts of yesterday’s activities out of his mind. He continued with his work diligently, trying to keep his mind off the bugs.
He tried to think about things he was looking forward to, like maybe practicing with his bow later with one of his many friends. He’d had the bow since he was a child, but it had been too big before. Now it was finally his size and he enjoyed his time with it. Bow’s were very rare with the Aztecs; most men used swords or spears. But he regretfully stopped daydreaming with a grunt for the noise in the street he could no longer ignore.
He reluctantly placed his hammer down and lifted the flap to see what had happened. He saw a large group of people arguing about something. He went closer to learn some more information and was surprised to hear them mention the white prisoner of the day before.
It seemed one of the people in the crowd was one of the guards of the white prisoner. He had spoken to the guard and told him of his homeland. Apparently there were thousands of white men less then a hundred miles away. And then farther away were millions of white men living on an entire continent. If he died he would soon be revenged he said.
These words filled the crowd with fear, but Xoctol knew better. He had seen the powerful army of the Aztecs and he wasn’t afraid. But it was a surprise for him, because he suddenly realized, the Aztecs were alone.
Chapter 4
The guard was right. Xoctol woke up to see his father rushing out the door. He asked him what had happened and was shocked to find that an army of white men had been sighted. They were still miles and miles away but Aztec runners had brought the
news in last night. The emperor tried to keep it a secret, but his father had heard the news
when he was delivering one of his gold products to a noble man. Xoctol rushed to get
dressed and ran outside undecided about what to do. He decided to check the streets to see if any new information had been discovered. He knew that as soon as one of the servants heard something, they would immediately spread the word to the streets, so it sounded like the best place to start. He was rewarded by sighting a crowd just a little farther down the road. He went nearer and heard the bad news about the rate at which the whites were coming. He learned that they are marching nonstop. At this rate, they would arrive in a week. The leaders were trying to keep it hidden but everyone knew that the Aztec army was preparing for warfare. They had begun training and messages had been sent out to the surrounding cities collecting men. While the Aztec generals were hard at work trying to determine whether to stay put and defend the city, or to take the offensive and attack the whites, Xoctol was confident that no matter which one was chosen, the Aztecs would win. After all there were rumors that there were only a few thousand whites, while the Aztecs could get an army of over one million. Yes the people’s fear isfoolish.
Chapter 5
A week had passed since Xoctol had laughed at the talk of the people. And life had drastically changed. The whites were pushing on with great avidity at the rumors of immense amounts of treasure. They were only a day’s journey away but the Aztec army was ready to fight. The priests had predicted a quick battle and the whites being utterly crushed. The emperor, confident of success decided to take the offensive and meet the whites out in the open. The army marched out with all of its grandeur. Xoctol glowed with anger at the memory of the soldier trainer’s response to his plea of joining the army.
The trainer had dismissed him with out even a word. Xoctol had been humiliated, but he wasn’t going to helplessly wait at the city. He was busy scheming a plan as he watched the queues of men walk by.
Husbands bidding goodbye to families, and promising a quick return. The noble soldiers led the procession in their finery, and the rest of the army followed arrayed in cotton armor and carrying impressive swords. The flags of the various cities were held high by their prestigious armies. And they strode out with the chiefs urging them on to make a better show for the people at the city. The emperor had not sent his entire army though. He being so confident of the advice of the priests, had left some of his best and most valiant soldiers at the city, the Jaguar warriors. Believing it to be a quick battle he wanted to keep them fresh for more pressing matters. Xoctol watched the army, but he was not only watching. A circumvention in his mind slowly began to form as the army faded into the distance.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Xoctol
Chapter 1
“I am going to be a warrior Mama,” five-year-old Xocotl (zoc’tol) asserted. “Yes,
Xocotl, you are my little warrior, but you will always be my little boy,” Chiuacoatl said. Xocotl sat for a minute in pensive thought, then replied, “But can you be a warrior and a little boy?” Cihuacoatl (chee-wa-co’-tol) laughed, “of course and you can think about that while you sleep,” She said cajolingly.
It had been eleven years since that day, and Xocotl was almost a man. But he had
been forced to accept his rank in the working class instead of pursuing his dream of be coming a soldier. The sun beat down ruthlessly that day. Xocotl sweated like a jaguar that had fallen into the lake surrounding his home city of Tenochtitlan. He was proud of the fact that he lived in the capital city of this powerful country, and proud to be an Aztec. But he felt captured being stuck in his father, Ahexotl’s (ah-hec’-tol) gold-smith shop everyday.
He had the arduous job of beating down the gold for his father to shape. The steady sound of his hammer striking the gold echoed throughout the shop. But he stopped when the flap covering the door opened to reveal his little sister Omecihuatl (o-mec-i-hwa’-tol). Xocotl’s face stolid from the hard work tried to ignore his blissful sister. But the contrasting change of dress from her usual clothes caught his attention. She had her best dress on decorated with vermilion cloth, and brocade. She said gleefully, “have you forgotten about the festival today?” Of course I haven’t forgotten Xocotl thought, it’s the biggest celebration of the year. But he only replied, “No, but you shouldn’t be here, this is no place for a little girl.” She strutted out indignantly, which made Xocotl feel guilty as
he started to hammer again. He knew on such a day as today she would forget it in a little while, or he could just get her some treat to cheer her up. He put the finished piece of gold in the puncheon, and then put the hammer away in the spot
that his dad had taught him. He knew he wouldn’t be working again today because of
the festival, so he and his dad could have the rest of the day off. He finished cleaning the gold smithy then rushed home.
He rushed to his room to find his best clothes. But as soon as he saw the door ajar
he knew something was wrong. He always shut the door behind him. He entered to find
his room a mess. And in the corner sat Zigwe (zig’-wee), the family dog. He stared at him angrily. Normally Xocotl would have yelled at him but today that seemed
inconsequential. He pointed ominously and pushed the dog out the door. He cleaned the mess as quick as he could and then changed and rushed out the door, desperate to arrive on time. He mentally thanked the god Quetzalcoatl (kwet-sull-co’-tol) that his mother had gone to visit her family in a remote part of the city so he didn’t
have to worry about a scolding for being late. Then he ran to the site of the festival.
The streets were empty because everyone had already gone on, so he ran as fast as
he could. The wind blew against his face and he felt like he was flying. He watched the scenery around him, and looked pride fully at the beautiful surroundings of his country. The wide straight streets, the tall golden buildings. and in the background the immense glorious temples. He smiled admiringly. It was the Aztecs, his people who had made all this. He wondered, could any be as glorious and powerful as them?
Chapter 2
The elaborate, clamorous festival was more then Xoctol could have ever hoped.
The detail in every area of the festival showed the Aztec’s pride and glory at their zenith of power. The temples seemed to be made of an iridescent gold with the sun beaming down on them. But after all this wasn’t just any quaint party, this was the grandest festival of the whole year. People flocked from miles around because of the two main attractions. First the emperor Montezuma himself was coming and second, the glorious sacrifice of one of the captured men from around the nation. Truly this would bring glory to the gods.
He searched the crowd for his father and sister. He knew it would be folly to try yelling over this raucous crowd so filled with excitement. He decided to back up one of the streets to try and get a better view. His search soon ended when he spotted them walking up the street. Obviously he wasn’t the only one late. He rushed toward them with dexterity, weaving his way through the crowd. He soon reached them and together they hurried toward the temple for the best view. At that moment the tumult of the emperor’s trumpets erupted. The parade showing all of the emperor’s majesty walked down the paved street. Xoctol watched jealously at all the servants and gold. Then his eyes lit up when he spotted Mayauel (may-owl’). He had gapped at her beauty ever since he had seen her as a little child. She appeared to be around his age but he sighed because he knew she would never notice him. The parade continued fading in beauty as she continued down the road. The king’s favored were next and they followed looking with contempt upon the crowd. The reluctant people made way for the nobility who stared ahead with sullen faces. The coins thrown out by the king, quickly changed their expressions from petulant to glee.
The drums sounded to announce the beginning of the entertainment. The vigorous noise ceased as all eyes looked forward to not miss a second of the spectacle. A mystic hush fell over the crowd as the silhouetted figure of the high priest appeared at the top of the temple. Everyone watched as the doors to a nearby prison opened to reveal two of the famed jaguar warriors guarding a hooded prisoner. They led him slowly up the steps to the top. A slow chant began among the citizens getting louder and louder, as the thrill ofthe moment filled the cold hearts of the Aztecs. The high priest grabbed the prisoner and turned him toward the crowd. The chant grew to a scream as the people gathered, jumped and raised their voices trying to bring praise to the bloodthirsty gods of the Aztecs. The high priest grabbed the mask of the prisoner and tore it off. The awestruck people fell silent. The crowd gasped as the now revealed face of the man, was white.
They were stunned when they saw the first white man ever to reach the city of the
Jaguar. He stared resolutely out at the crowd, but recovering themselves they stared back in no cordial manner. The high priest led him over to the alter and raised his knife, the chant began again as the devoted people cried out to the war god to give them success and victory. The truculent priest raised his knife and then brought it down again with all his heartless strength.
“I am going to be a warrior Mama,” five-year-old Xocotl (zoc’tol) asserted. “Yes,
Xocotl, you are my little warrior, but you will always be my little boy,” Chiuacoatl said. Xocotl sat for a minute in pensive thought, then replied, “But can you be a warrior and a little boy?” Cihuacoatl (chee-wa-co’-tol) laughed, “of course and you can think about that while you sleep,” She said cajolingly.
It had been eleven years since that day, and Xocotl was almost a man. But he had
been forced to accept his rank in the working class instead of pursuing his dream of be coming a soldier. The sun beat down ruthlessly that day. Xocotl sweated like a jaguar that had fallen into the lake surrounding his home city of Tenochtitlan. He was proud of the fact that he lived in the capital city of this powerful country, and proud to be an Aztec. But he felt captured being stuck in his father, Ahexotl’s (ah-hec’-tol) gold-smith shop everyday.
He had the arduous job of beating down the gold for his father to shape. The steady sound of his hammer striking the gold echoed throughout the shop. But he stopped when the flap covering the door opened to reveal his little sister Omecihuatl (o-mec-i-hwa’-tol). Xocotl’s face stolid from the hard work tried to ignore his blissful sister. But the contrasting change of dress from her usual clothes caught his attention. She had her best dress on decorated with vermilion cloth, and brocade. She said gleefully, “have you forgotten about the festival today?” Of course I haven’t forgotten Xocotl thought, it’s the biggest celebration of the year. But he only replied, “No, but you shouldn’t be here, this is no place for a little girl.” She strutted out indignantly, which made Xocotl feel guilty as
he started to hammer again. He knew on such a day as today she would forget it in a little while, or he could just get her some treat to cheer her up. He put the finished piece of gold in the puncheon, and then put the hammer away in the spot
that his dad had taught him. He knew he wouldn’t be working again today because of
the festival, so he and his dad could have the rest of the day off. He finished cleaning the gold smithy then rushed home.
He rushed to his room to find his best clothes. But as soon as he saw the door ajar
he knew something was wrong. He always shut the door behind him. He entered to find
his room a mess. And in the corner sat Zigwe (zig’-wee), the family dog. He stared at him angrily. Normally Xocotl would have yelled at him but today that seemed
inconsequential. He pointed ominously and pushed the dog out the door. He cleaned the mess as quick as he could and then changed and rushed out the door, desperate to arrive on time. He mentally thanked the god Quetzalcoatl (kwet-sull-co’-tol) that his mother had gone to visit her family in a remote part of the city so he didn’t
have to worry about a scolding for being late. Then he ran to the site of the festival.
The streets were empty because everyone had already gone on, so he ran as fast as
he could. The wind blew against his face and he felt like he was flying. He watched the scenery around him, and looked pride fully at the beautiful surroundings of his country. The wide straight streets, the tall golden buildings. and in the background the immense glorious temples. He smiled admiringly. It was the Aztecs, his people who had made all this. He wondered, could any be as glorious and powerful as them?
Chapter 2
The elaborate, clamorous festival was more then Xoctol could have ever hoped.
The detail in every area of the festival showed the Aztec’s pride and glory at their zenith of power. The temples seemed to be made of an iridescent gold with the sun beaming down on them. But after all this wasn’t just any quaint party, this was the grandest festival of the whole year. People flocked from miles around because of the two main attractions. First the emperor Montezuma himself was coming and second, the glorious sacrifice of one of the captured men from around the nation. Truly this would bring glory to the gods.
He searched the crowd for his father and sister. He knew it would be folly to try yelling over this raucous crowd so filled with excitement. He decided to back up one of the streets to try and get a better view. His search soon ended when he spotted them walking up the street. Obviously he wasn’t the only one late. He rushed toward them with dexterity, weaving his way through the crowd. He soon reached them and together they hurried toward the temple for the best view. At that moment the tumult of the emperor’s trumpets erupted. The parade showing all of the emperor’s majesty walked down the paved street. Xoctol watched jealously at all the servants and gold. Then his eyes lit up when he spotted Mayauel (may-owl’). He had gapped at her beauty ever since he had seen her as a little child. She appeared to be around his age but he sighed because he knew she would never notice him. The parade continued fading in beauty as she continued down the road. The king’s favored were next and they followed looking with contempt upon the crowd. The reluctant people made way for the nobility who stared ahead with sullen faces. The coins thrown out by the king, quickly changed their expressions from petulant to glee.
The drums sounded to announce the beginning of the entertainment. The vigorous noise ceased as all eyes looked forward to not miss a second of the spectacle. A mystic hush fell over the crowd as the silhouetted figure of the high priest appeared at the top of the temple. Everyone watched as the doors to a nearby prison opened to reveal two of the famed jaguar warriors guarding a hooded prisoner. They led him slowly up the steps to the top. A slow chant began among the citizens getting louder and louder, as the thrill ofthe moment filled the cold hearts of the Aztecs. The high priest grabbed the prisoner and turned him toward the crowd. The chant grew to a scream as the people gathered, jumped and raised their voices trying to bring praise to the bloodthirsty gods of the Aztecs. The high priest grabbed the mask of the prisoner and tore it off. The awestruck people fell silent. The crowd gasped as the now revealed face of the man, was white.
They were stunned when they saw the first white man ever to reach the city of the
Jaguar. He stared resolutely out at the crowd, but recovering themselves they stared back in no cordial manner. The high priest led him over to the alter and raised his knife, the chant began again as the devoted people cried out to the war god to give them success and victory. The truculent priest raised his knife and then brought it down again with all his heartless strength.
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