Teoxi, Mayan Prince: Ii. Montezuma’S Rage

By Antonio Grimaldi

Dr. Antonio Grimaldi holds a doctorate degree and 2 post-doctoral specializations from the State University of Naples, Italy. For eight years, Dr. Grimaldi resided in Latin America where he served for four years as Professor of Economics at the National University of Panama. Residing in the United States since 1978, he served with several universities and taught undergraduate and graduate courses in management and economics. Dr. Grimaldi has published numerous articles and research papers in academic journals and conference proceedings. Professor Grimaldi speaks five languages.
While pursuing his interest in Pre-Columbian civilizations, Dr. Grimaldi traveled extensively throughout Latin America, exploring the Andean Plateau, the Orinoco River, the Amazon Basin and Central America, having personal contact with several native tribes. Articles regarding Dr. Grimaldis travels have been published in Latin America and Canada.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468549539

Antonio Grimaldi

Dr. Antonio Grimaldi holds a doctorate degree and 2 post-doctoral specializations from the State University of Naples, Italy. For eight years, Dr. Grimaldi resided in Latin America where he served for four years as Professor of Economics at the National University of Panama. Residing in the United States since 1978, he served with several universities and taught undergraduate and graduate courses in management and economics. Dr. Grimaldi has published numerous articles and research papers in academic journals and conference proceedings. Professor Grimaldi speaks five languages. Dr. Grimaldi’s last three books have been The End of Tikal, Montezuma’s Rage, and Drops of Wisdom of the series Teoxi, Mayan Prince. www.teoxi-mayanprince.com.

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Teoxi, Mayan Prince

II. Montezuma’s Rage

Antonio Grimaldi

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© 2012 by Antonio Grimaldi. All rights reserved.

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First published by AuthorHouse 01/30/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-4955-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-4954-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-4953-9 (ebk)

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Printed in the United States of America

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Contents

Preface

Summary of book one

The End of Tikal

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

More Haphazard Thoughts…

To my Wife and my Daughters.

Of the great Lord, terrible the revenge will be

Cities and villages enslaved will be

And to his Gods he will immolate the life of many,

To steal the Mayan glory and wisdom,

But he will get only the color of the maize,

The burning taste of defeat and the fire of earth.

The successors of the great Lord, too,

Will keep pursuing us in vain:

History will remember them for the mud and the hoaxes.

From the prophecies of Chilam Balam

(The end of Tikal, chapter 34)

…You Europeans have always seen our behavior

Like an expression of death and barbarity, while behind the appearances, there was our need to fight to survive…

You come only to rob us… your insatiable longing for possessions

went quite beyond the theft of those things that we gave to the Gods…

You come to dominate our existence… you use the same system

that our chiefs imposed on us to entrust us to the Eternal Benevolence.

Know this: if you lived like us in a hostile environment that punished you

continually with wind, rain and heat, I doubt that you could have been able to surpass us in our conquests,

especially those achieved by a people as industrious as the Maya

and by an organization as efficient as the Aztecan…

An Indian chief to the author of this book

Preface

In this second part of the novel, the Mayan prince Teoxihualpan is forced to face the Aztecan power and, in doing so, discovers that he knows very little about the Aztec. The events lead him through an amazingly incredible and unexpected world.

Any reader who is unaware of one of the most ferocious chapters of human history might doubt the historical basis of this story; one might think the historical events described herein are as fantastic as the fictional events of the novel itself. But, I can assure the reader that the historical basis of this novel is essentially accurate.

Only the third element, that which refers to the customs of Central American people, is historically uncertain since it has been handed down by oral tradition and habits of the people who still live in semi-isolated conditions, as described in the Preface to the first book (The End of Tikal) in this series. Therefore, before reading this novel, a reader unfamiliar with Central American history must be introduced to the Aztecan period—what might well be called the greatest terror regime history has ever recorded.

Human history is replete with conquerors and their unfortunate victims—populations slaughtered to their complete destruction. What makes Aztecan political organization a special page of history is its efficiency in imposing its unusual power system on an incredibly vast and populated country.

The Spanish described the Aztec as savages but, when we probe deeper into the philosophical and religious basis of the Aztecan political system, we become astonished to the point of being completely unable to define it. Philosophy is not only the focus but also the starting point of Aztecan life, and this concept can rarely be found among stone age savages!

Material demands—like those for hunger and thirst for example—are simple demands of the body. Higher level activities, however—like passions, anger or intelligence—the Aztecan philosophers argued, can’t be produced by matter but reveal themselves through matter because they are spiritual by nature and arise from the souls living within the body.

So, man has three souls that produce three different categories of non-material activities: the concupiscent soul resides in the liver and produces passions; the irascible soul resides in the chest and generates anger, violence and war-like attitude; and the rational soul resides in the head and fosters intelligence, cunning, arts, science and social and political organization.

The material activities of the body provides sustenance for these souls and allows them to reach their ultimate objectives. It derives, then, that when the three souls have an insufficient or negative production, these souls reside in waste bodies which must be destroyed, so that the souls can return to the gods who created them.

It is this ‘productivity criterion’ which defines excellent men who

must be kept alive and unproductive men who must be sacrificed.

As a consequence, each ethnic group is made up of three categories of individuals: material goods producers, warriors and philosophers.

In the Aztecan system, the philosophers served as the priests. They looked after the administration of the empire, arranged religious and artistic activities and guaranteed high productivity through the selection of the fittest individuals.

An example of this Aztecan activity has been handed down by the Spanish who left us the chronicle of the battles led by the Aztec:

highland priests took the battle under control and, with the help of various musical instruments, made deafening sounds to excite the warriors. At the end of the battle, those warriors who—in the priests’ unquestioned judgement—behaved with little courage, were sacrificed on the same battle ground.

So, for the warriors, there was no other choice than fighting with all their strength to the ultimate victory or, accepting the end as a sort of recycling process where the most productive ones survived and the least productive ones were given back to gods.

Another example—subjected populations had to accept the condition of servitude. Cunningly, the Aztec allowed the defeated chiefs to survive but forced them to accept the winners’ periodic demands for men that could serve as human sacrifices. In this way, the chiefs of the conquered enemy became torturers and exploiters of their own people first, by selecting within their own group unnecessary individuals, and second, by journeying to the Aztecan capital to observe the human sacrifices of their own people.

The Spanish chronicles confirm that, after the Aztec sacrificed enemy humans in the capital Tenochtitlan, the Aztecan Emperor invited the leaders of subjected people to the banquet hall where they feasted together—sometimes feeding on their own roasted men.

Thousands of men were sacrificed—possibly tens of thousands—every year. One chronicle reports that 80,000 individuals were sacrificed in a ceremony which lasted several days. Even if the count was excessive and should be reduced by one third, this unquestionably systematic reduction of a subdued peoples’ population reduced not only the possibility of periodic enemy rebellions, but also the possibility of Aztecan loss of life that might occur while subduing such riots; certainly a devilish system and the only one found in history!

Some historians have refused to call the Aztecan political system an empire because of this strategy.

The emperor (or Tlatoani as he was called), was the ultimate leader and represented the marriage of the three souls. As the symbol of human perfection he made no mistakes and bore no flaws.

The old priests, employing a selective method (which could be defined as "arbitrary meritocracy) searched among the members of the royal family and selected the one who, according to them, had inherited the ‘best’ from his predecessors.

In order to show off their exceptional concupiscent soul, all emperors had hundreds of wives and concubines, and, as a consequence, had an enormous number of children. The leader also had to prove his war-like skills by leading victorious military campaigns soon after his election.

Because the Tlatoani’s perfection made him not only ‘one’ with the Eternals, but also the most logical and faithful interpreter of gods’ will, Tlatoani served as the sole voice of the gods. The infallibility and divinity attributed to the emperor made him a living god who expected absolute obedience even to the point of disrupting the basic rules of Aztecan society. For example, during the last Spanish assault to the royal palace, Cuauhtemoc (the tenth and last Aztecan emperor and successor to Moctecuhzoma II Xocoyotzin, 1502-1520) ordered the lower-class women to fight against the invaders although, in Aztecan culture, women were not allowed to fight. (The women, by the way, are reported to have fought with extraordinary heroism.)

The Spanish not only destroyed the temples and palaces of the magnificent Aztecan capital, but they also took away the temple stones in an attempt to wipe out every historical trace of some of the most beautiful structures of that civilization. It is really astonishing to read the chronicles of those privileged men who witnessed such a beauty beside the lake Tezcoco. What a shameful loss for humanity!

Why did the Spanish display such ruthlessness? Because the Spanish decreed that, although the Aztecan capital was no longer a menace, there must be no surviving record of Tenochtitlan.

Why did the Spanish erase every trace of the city instead of allowing its rubble to serve as a monument to a successful Spanish expedition in the New World? One possible answer: History books maintain that the extent of the destruction was due to Spanish religious fanaticism, but that conclusion is obviously meritless—if fanaticism was the reason, then why were they so chillingly pitiless with Tenochtitlan and not with the other hundreds of untouched temples and monuments scattered throughout Central America? The correct answer: in order to totally root out the obscene religion of those peoples, it was surely the product of fanaticism to destroy Mayan sacred books and temples. However, the reason that the city of Tenochtitlan was erased from the earth was far different—it was destroyed out of fear; the Aztecan capital symbolized the terror the Spanish incurred—terror renewed just by seeing it; terror which not only defied reasoning but also dominated the memory of the bearded people who came from the East.

Each broken stone, moved afar, represented posthumous revenge for the dead fellow-soldiers. And, each crushed inscription, scattered to the wind, helped confirm that nothing else remained of, not only those ferocious hordes that stood ready to assail the Spanish, but also of those grotesquely misinformed priests who scooped the hearts from those unlucky soldiers’ breasts and lifted them high to the needful stars. Tenochtitlan represented the terror that not even time could wipe out, a terror that could possibly be repeated because of beliefs totally rooted in the conscience of a people that were unable to accept the loss of their own protectors. The people unconsciously believed they had to avenge their dead leaders—leaders that embodied their vision of superiority—by attacking the encroaching empire and, if necessary, the world itself. If a new emperor ever rose from the people’s sorrow and despair, and then led a counterattack, the problem would have been renewed. There was also the consideration that the Spanish were alone and weak in a hostile foreign country which could never offer peace to a band of adventurers.

Because Tenochtitlan represented all these things, the fear-obsessed people as well as the very stones of their city, had to be violently uprooted and scattered in all directions near and far.

Although this draconian solution prevailed over any other alternative, it also, ultimately, deprived Cortez—a very practical man—of the opportunity to enjoy a beautiful city which could have offered every desired amenity to him and his desperate bunch of men.

Actually, more than asserting the triumph of their faith, the Spanish were trying to preserve their lives, find gold and build wealth.

Although the Spanish called the natives savages, that name clashes with the way the fight between Spanish and Aztec was carried out.

An ex-student of mine told me that some natives still believe that the Spanish invasion would have ended in a violent massacre of the Spanish if some anti-Aztec groups had not assisted the Spanish in their efforts.

To conclude, a historical peculiarity: the philosophy of the three souls and the social division into three classes, is similar to Plato’s theory formulated one thousand seven hundred years earlier in a part of the world the Aztec knew nothing about. No Aztecan culture expert has ever noticed or written about this strange coincidence.

The only differences are, one, that Plato put the concupiscent soul in a generic womb while Aztec philosophers put it in the liver, and, two, that in Platonic hierarchy the philosophers are at the top of the society. Plato’s conception of the state was a solution that was too abstract to be of any value in controlling the masses and that is why it was short lived and doomed to tragic end.

Aztecan philosophers, on the contrary, were far more realistic and created the emblem of the perfect and absolute emperor—a man god that could be seen but not touched.

The origin of such conception is unknown because the Aztec had no written history. And, we will never know if there was an Aztecan Plato.

So far, the historical truth.

Antonio Grimaldi

May, 2007

My translation from Italian into English has been revised by Mr. Richard Warner from Texas (Chapters I through 27) and Mr. Mike Valentino from Massachusetts (Chapters 28-40): to them go my deepest thanks.

December 2011

Antonio Grimaldi

Summary of book one

The End of Tikal

Teoxi, now an old man—the fourth son of Uaxactun. the last absolute monarch of Tikal—sits on the banks of lake Peten-Itza and recalls the story of his life. Wishing to preserve a record of the events that led to the destruction of his homeland, his still-sharp eyes sweep the distant shore as he tries to put his memories in order.

Born of an elderly father, Teoxi was looked after by priests, shielded from government matters, and—unlike his three older brothers—taught to be an intellectual rather than a warrior. But, because the future had unexpected events in store for him, his intellectual upbringing turned out to be of more use to him than his lack of military training.

In his early manhood, an unforeseen event not only transfixed the nation but also steadily and permanently lured Teoxi away from his young life of amusements and intellectual pursuits, thrusting him headlong into a national crisis whose solution was crucial to the very survival of his country. After mere months into this growing turmoil, Teoxi’s father realized that young Teoxi was the most qualified among his brothers to someday assume the Mayan throne.

Now, Teoxi had to weave his way carefully through the squalid and dangerous world of the empire’s leadership, struggle wearily yet confidently through entanglements of intrigue and treachery, move delicately between ancient myths and recent science, attempt to protect his family and country against internal and external threats, prepare for war with the powerful Aztecs, confront overwhelming and destructive acts of nature, and accept the undeniable fact that this young man of too few years had truly entered a living hell. To make matters worse, during his first timid steps from the solitude of the palace to a world of intrigue and danger, he fell at first sight for a girl below his class, and then moved inexorably toward a forbidden relationship that would preclude his ascension to the throne.

This is the story of the young man Teoxi, committing the breadth of his will and fortitude to the needs of his people and, throughout it all, maintaining hope that his first love would someday share his days and nights. This is also the story of the old man Teoxi, sitting on the shores of the Peten-Itza seeing the things we cannot see and recounting for those in the world today, the world he knew so well.

Chapter 1

The Lord of the Marshes

For quite a while, I’ve been looking at my dog ‘Puxi.’ He’s lying motionless, like a statue, staring at the tainted waters of the marsh. A few steps away from Puxi, two sleepy eyes convey the only visible signs of the presence of a crocodile. The two animals stare silently at each other fraught with suspicion and waiting for the other to make the wrong move.

Come on, get out of your stinking waters, Puxi seems to say. And, if you even try, I’ll call my master who will let you taste his spear.

Why are you keeping away from the bank? the crocodile seems to reply. Come even one lash closer to my kingdom and you’ll satisfy my hunger for several days.

Actually, this imaginary dialogue between ‘Puxi’ and the watery beast is not absurd. Puxi, you see—my faithful guard since I reluctantly accepted him from a true family friend two years ago—protects me with his silence.

And, silence is crucial to my life in the marshes. Although I’m confined to the marshes, the marshes have offered me a measure of shelter and protection since the terrible destruction of Tikal—my sweet homeland. And, because the Great Emperor of the North has promised an entire province to anyone who will bring me to him dead or alive, strangers continually pass near and far inquiring about the missing prince.

For years, this hiding place had provided an ideal shelter for me and I had refrained from having a dog because the barking of a dog would draw prying eyes’ into this dark, wet expanse. Mysteriously enough, when I first brought Puxi here—from the very moment I had decided to leave the village—Puxi made his first crossing of the marsh without barking.

Since then, he’s always behaved the same way. It’s only when we leave the marsh that Puxi behaves like all the other dogs. This astonishing behavior of Puxi so intrigued me that, after much thought, the only conclusion I could draw was that this animal was a gift from the Sun God who doesn’t want me to be publicly executed in the Aztecan capital.

Although Puxi is an incredible animal, and we have an incredible friendship, incredible friendships between man and beast is not so rare in the history of my country. In fact, some famous examples are recorded on the stones of the Great Temple of the Inscriptions. Someday, when Tikal is freed from the overwhelming forest that has swallowed the city of my birth, these recorded facts will tell the new lords of this land even more about this land’s dogs and their incredible friendships.

The Maya were the first to have tamed dogs—long before the Aztec and long before the multitude of people wandering aimlessly through the forest. One day, by pure chance, one of our officers found a bitch and its nine puppies in the forest. The moaning of the puppies drew him between two large rocks where he examined the litter while the nearby mother growled protectively, probably fearing the loss of her young.

The officer had them put into a basket and carried to the camp—the mother following at a safe distance. There, after the officer ordered them fed, the starving mother overcame her fear and took advantage of the same food as her puppies.

Strangely enough, while other animals caught as babies always returned to their native forest after they grew up, these didn’t. The ten dogs became the faithful friends of the man who saved them from death and they grew in number as increasing numbers of upper-class families wanted to have a dog. No other beast has ever shown more faithfulness, devotion, intelligence and usefulness than the dog.

Now mine is there near the water’s edge, staring at his great enemy, prepared to rush to the narrow walkway—safe from the crocodile—and then, with his strange guttural sounds, warn me about the danger and ensure me the exclusivity of the prey.

Crocodiles, however, even though they’re treacherous and cruel, are very useful to me because they serve as guards of my little dominion; nobody would ever venture into this watery world where certain death lurks behind every reed.

Long ago, the marshes served as my ancestors’ fresh meat supply. They fed crocodiles the corpses of traitors and criminals that had been taken to the main square of Tikal and sacrificed to various gods. (The bodies of the good people who died, and the bodies of the virgins sacrificed to the gods, instead of being fed to the crocodiles were burned on a great pyre which in turn delivered their souls to the gods.)

Now that Tikal doesn’t exist anymore, and there’s very little left for crocodiles to feed on, the great beasts have started devouring each other and their number has steadily declined.

As I sit observing these two beasts, my mind marvels at the fact that each has not only served its individual role in the world, but has also played an integral part in my ironic and sad life.

Yes, I am Teoxihualpan, son of Uaxactun the last Mayan monarch. And, although my name Teoxihualpan—the most intelligent—came from my mother (and caused me to be mocked by everyone), now I’m simply Teoxi and, for my close friends, Teoshi."

For fifty years, my father, who was worshipped as a semi-god, ruled an empire that extended from the sea that borders us on the east to the one that borders us on the west. But, now, I rule over nothing—residing in frighteningly slimy waters and in living in conditions worse than a beast.

This hiding-out has been useful because, beyond protecting me, it allowed me to carry out so many achievements as the leader of a band of heroes, and, in addition, to collect and record not only the remarkable highlights of my life but also the glory for Mayan civilization.

I’ll therefore keep on picking and pressing the vegetable fibers these pages are made of, as long as the Sun God gives me strength.

I am the only one who can challenge the destructive power of time and I hope that better men, perhaps my descendants, will someday assume the heritage of the past and lift my great nation from its ruins.

Everyone that I know believes I’m a dreamer who is approaching the end of the last journey. They are too much involved in their daily routines and they’re not at all interested in the future that is—each day—borne anew in my mind. Even now, when light is fading and my sight is dimmed, there exists in my thoughts a dazzling sunrise.

But of what good? Nobody listens to me! The only choice I have is to commend these pages to God’s benevolence, hoping he will yield to my pleas and save them from destruction.

I expect that raiders from the east would—if they came into possession of these pages—destroy them too. If so, what could be the use of all this work? What interest could the new rulers of this country have in knowing about their unlucky predecessors?

Therefore, for all those who came before me, I continue my quest. And, until the sun rises in the east, but not for me, I will not give up.

Chapter 2

Life Without Peace

It was a dog exactly like Puxi that saved my life many years ago. Soon after the destruction of Tikal, Copaxin and I took the treasure from the pyramids, buried it in various places outside the ancient city and then traveled to the east coast village which, for the first time, saw me as a leader.

This village too had been destroyed by heavy rain and floods but many of its inhabitants survived and were already rebuilding their houses. They had heard rumors about the destruction of the capital but not the extent to which misfortune had struck it.

I was accepted with respect as if I was still the son of the living king. I told them about the real condition of Tikal and that thousands had died in as many ways. The fact that I was bound by friendship with Copaxin, a member of the lower class, identified me as one of them even more.

As each day went by, we understood more and more how complete was the destruction of the country. Throughout the following months, people from other Mayan villages passed through or came to visit us. Although nobody spoke about the political reorganization of the empire, I did everything possible to promote relocation of many village dwellers, and most of the transient population, to the capital.

However, although I made a strong case for repopulating the capital, nobody wanted to leave his own village for fear that they might be abandoning a secure livelihood for some trade they might not like. Moreover, they feared the possibility that they might be exchanging their present freedom for a tyrannical political system which might deprive them of every possession they had and then reward them only with new and unexpected sufferings.

The only thing I could do was accept that situation. Therefore, whenever we had to discuss matters important to all of us, I arranged informal meetings with the various householders and we decided by majority what action to take. Obviously, never again could I wear the quetzal feather—the symbol of the royal status of which I would always be so proud. Lamat and Maukin however, as my most faithful guards (who at my request were promoted by my father), proudly wore the colorful symbol of their ancient rank and remained my faithful friends until their death.

Also, the young men who had joined us as a small army in the mission to rescue the virgins from the slave traders kept close to me and attended me during my adventurous existence.

Through their behavior, I realized that the desire to belong to a group and to obey the leader was more than mere acceptance of the superiority of another social class, but a way of binding each other in a time of fear, in order to achieve something great during hard times.

I used to observe them and marvel at the great care with which they carried out my orders at a time when I had no power and was only the shadow of the past. Nevertheless, the sense of obedience and respect they showed for me would allow me to save the entire community from very serious dangers…

One full moon night, just before the dry season began, the village dog, that in the past I fed kitchen leftovers, came silently to lick my arm and wake me up. Almost instinctively, I got up and saw three Aztecan warriors—I recognized them from their colors—coming toward my hut.

I seized Copaxin by the arm and put my hand on her mouth to keep her silent. Then with a very firm grasp, I drew her towards the side exit. It was right then that the dog started to bark, awakened the entire village, and then rushed headlong against the three Aztec. Its heroism didn’t save its life—the three men quickly finished it off—but those few instants allowed us to reach the marshes where I had previously hidden a small boat. Fortunately, because of the rain season, the level of water in the marshes was high and we could slip away from the bank under cover of the trees and mangroves.

At that distance, I could observe it was a coordinated Aztecan attack and I was sure they were looking for me. They set the whole village on fire, wasted many human lives—mostly women and children—and managed to kill some of my loyal men. Fortunately, after bravely leading the village counter attack and killing several Aztec, Lamat and Maukin survived.

The following day, I found out that the death toll of the incursion was heavy. I was told that there were also some Mayan refugees among the attacking Aztec, but I wasn’t surprised since the Maya living in the Aztecan Empire had to obey their masters and behave like Aztec under threat and blackmail.

That first attempt to capture me would have been the best opportunity for the Aztec because I was not yet on guard. In fact, because the Aztec knew the village was small and unguarded, they relied on just a few dozen warriors led by some vassals, perhaps some spies, who were promised a reward. I imagined their disappointment at mounting a surprise attack, at night, on an unguarded village and not only failing to capture me but also losing many of their own warriors.

This added to my reputation of being—like all of my ancestors—under the protection of the Sun God.

Very few people from the village realized I was the target of the raid. Most villagers mistook them for simple raiders, but I was sure that I was the real target of that slaughter.

Two days later we held a formal meeting to plan how to avenge the assault. Obviously, I felt responsible for what had happened but Lamat, who had always been the most eloquent, spoke up and cleverly diverted the people’s attention away from me.

Men of the great Mayan empire! Brothers bearing misfortune! Friends experiencing a cruel Fate that wants to deprive us of everything including life! Because we are Maya, there will never be peace for us.

Those Maya who have bent to the Aztec’s will are crazy. They delude themselves to save their life and, in doing so, repudiate their past. Fools! The Aztec will never trust them. And, sooner or later, when they are no longer useful, the Aztec will get rid of them like insects. Our destiny is that of being Maya and nobody will ever deprive us of our identity. This is as it was meant to be and only mad men could hide our identity.

While other Maya either surrendered to the Aztec or wander frightened in the forest, we have something they don’t have: a fierce spirit and the freedom to put that spirit to test. If we are doomed to die, then our enemies will have to pay dearly for their efforts. We have to give them a lesson they will never forget. It’s the only way to impress on them the understanding that even now, when they enter the boundaries of the former-Mayan empire, they step into a land full of surprises. Our land is different from theirs: they aren’t used to the hot wet rain forest, to the animals that prowl unseen and to dangers that only we know.

This is our world—cruel and pitiless, yes, but so wonderful! Much better than their deserts! We have live volcanic stones and they have dead, plain and lifeless stones. We walk on this land as masters and they walk as outsiders. We are confident and they are fearful.

These advantages of ours, if used cleverly, will not only make us dangerous to them but will also cause them so much damage they’ll never think of settling this blessed territory.

The bones of our ancestors, just as the monuments they left us, still speak of our greatness and the superiority of our people.

In the opinion of the poor village’s inhabitants (who were at this point already greatly oppressed by fear), Lamat had already spoken too much.

Some of them were listening with eyes full of tears for the loss of their loved ones. Others sat with open resignation. All wondered what tomorrow held.

Someone broke the silence with a disturbing question, What you’re saying is good and right, but how can you believe that a small group of fishermen and farmers—all burdened by their family’s needs, paralyzing grief and the terrible events which just struck them—can take any action that would frighten the powerful Lord of the North?

It was a sensible question but frankly unexpected from some of those people. While my guard was speaking, my mind was instead enlightened by hundreds of ideas because I knew that sooner or later it would be my turn to speak and I would have to say something sensible that matched the ideas enunciated by him.

I would also like to say these words. I congratulate the speaker for his heartfelt response to Lamat’s noble words. We need realists like him because the greatness of the past does not solve the problems of the future. And to be sure, if a reprisal is made, I assure you that it should be an action that poses very little risk and offers a very high probability of victory.

A chorus of approval swept through those present, especially among the eldest who at this time in their lives were far from thinking about glorious actions, considering that they had never been touched by such ambition even when they were young.

In those moments, I recalled the border city. That was the first time I had crossed the borders of my country and, even then, I was too inexperienced and totally unaware of the dangers of war. For the first time, I became aware of a completely different world—a world that was populated by different peoples, ruled by the Aztec, and distinguished by a people who, although they were sleeping politically, were totally committed to their trades. I discovered a society which had nothing to share among its members unless sharing contributed to one’s material interests.

In my mind I repeated that experience. I remembered that inept leader who was trying very hard to maintain his position as wielder of power and acceptor of tributes but was doing nothing to protect his people’s honor and dignity.

During the raid, what really created mayhem for our enemy and assured us victory without striking a blow, was the surprise factor and our fire archers. This suggested to me a brilliant idea: if we made a surprise raid at the beginning of dry season in the greatest Aztecan city of the eastern peninsula, it would be an unforgettable lesson to the Aztec.

It seemed to me that it would be inappropriate and unwise to divulge my ideas without first consulting with my two most faithful guards, therefore, I resumed my comments by expressing ideas my listeners would better understand.

"Friends and noble lineage of the Maya! What happened to our poor village shouldn’t be a surprise for us, and indeed it’s our fault if we didn’t anticipate an Aztecan raid. Actually, we were too complacent and did not expect or plan for such a possibility.

We should have had permanent sentries standing guard. We should have had more guard dogs on the edge of our village. The gods do not help the stupid! We must all accept the fact that, although we had the right to defend ourselves from their aggression, we killed, sacrificed and gave as food for crocodiles Montezuma’s brother. And, it’s only human that the great Lord of the North will never forget such a deadly offense.

The only satisfaction he desires is that he could capture all of us—plus the Mayans in all other forest and villages—and kill everyone in a great show in the main square of Tenochtitlan.

Did you forget who has promised a whole province to anyone—even a Mayan—who would hand me over to him, dead or alive?

Do you really believe he would give someone a province? Fools are those who believe this! The Mayan traitors who would betray us will be quite surprised to be sacrificed themselves with us!

At this point, I saw that they all agree with my words—some with a grumble, some with a smile and some openly approving my ideas.

So, I said, there will be no peace for us. And, the only alternative that could change things would be to give another lesson to the Lord of the North, even in such sad times for the Mayan nation. He must incur one more lesson to make him realize that it’s impossible to take revenge—such an unexpected lesson that it must shake him, frighten him, and finally convince him to desist from all further hostile activities against us. A lesson, as I said, in which we take no risks of human casualties.

"The success of many military actions can be attributed to intelligence in planning and execution, even for actions during which the victor had little or no numerical strength—which, of course, we don’t have. I’ll consult with my ex-guards about establishing a military training course for all of the village’s young men—your children and grandchildren. We’ll then form a permanent defense force for our community and, possibly, begin preparing our revenge.

Our dead, those of the distant and recent past, deserve our respect, our hard work and our heroism. They do not deserve our fear, cowardice and submission. We will exert whatever effort we must!

I could not find a better group than those in this room; Lamat and Maukin, some young people, some extroverts, a few bold people and even some of the old (who wanted to appear younger than they were) fully approved my ideas. It is true—sometimes a small event, even an insignificant event, can create a great change in people’s hearts. Once emotions have been awakened, passions shaken and courage resurrected, no one thinks about drawing back any more. So a group formerly awash in apathy and mediocrity, in this way rises to become a handful of men ready to confront war and accomplish the most glorious deeds. Even emotions are contagious!

Chapter 3

Revenge for Survival


That same evening, I summoned my two friends and proposed a plan of attack—on a windy day during the dry season, we could set fire to an Aztecan town. The idea found an enthusiastic response. For the success of our plan, we just needed to choose the appropriate town at the right time.

During the following weeks, we worked tirelessly in the development and preparation of our bold plan. First, we had to decide which town would be the target of the raid and then we had to train the archers. After much discussion, we decided to attack Chichen-Itza.

The town was quite big, had a population that was predominantly Mayan, and included a large number of inhabitants that were of Aztecan origin. It was a town where the two cultures lived together but where the Aztecan interests were predominant. There was a provincial chief, appointed directly by the emperor, who was responsible for the entire area of Eastern Yucatan and his orders were fulfilled with the help of a few hundreds of guards.

Although our attack plan was a very ambitious for a handful of inexperienced warriors, what convinced us that our plan was feasible, was the fact that it was not a border town and, since Tikal had disappeared and the Aztec feared no enemies, the town had no sighting posts and sentries.

Centuries ago, Chichen-Itza was a Mayan town but it never accepted its place as part of the Tikal domain. Later, it fell under the Aztecan political influence and, after Tikal fell, was annexed by the Aztecan Empire and forced to pay the tribute to Tenochtitlan.

The powerful Mayan families and priests who had refused to submit to the Son of the Sun of Tikal, had, like all the towns of the Yucatan, to pay a high price for their pride and for their insane desire to be independent from their natural homeland.

The first part of the journey was by sea—sailing along the coast up to the peninsula. In the dry season the sea is calm with a slight wind that blows regularly from the southwest. (Because the full length of the peninsula is crossed by a system of hills, it would have been more difficult to cover the route overland.)

We sailed around the entire peninsula and we were in sight of Chichen-Itza.
 From the top of a hill, we could survey the entire town whose temples reminded me of Tikal’s. The largest pyramid was less steep than ours, and someone told me that it was similar to those built by the Aztecs in their capital.

Actually, that pyramid was built by the Maya long before the Aztec settled on the shores of Lake Tezcoco. It was dedicated to the god Kukulkan, the great Plumed Serpent, the Lord of life and death.

It is said that, on the day that marks the end of the rainy season and the beginning of the dry one, Kukulkan’s spirit still ascends the pyramid to take possession of his temple. My tutor told me, however, that it was only an effect of the light and that the priests knew that. Nevertheless, they let people believe this delusion was real in order to support their prophecies. In this way, they subdued the faithful who, on that day according to tradition, used to bring gifts to the God.

Of course, when the sun was hidden by clouds and the people couldn’t see this effect, the priests predicted that major disasters would befall the city that year. As a consequence, people would bring even more gifts in order to appease the God. Whatever the action of Kukulkan’s spirit, the priests were sure to profit greatly.

Chichen-Itza was really beautiful! These monuments had all the spirit of our culture! I sincerely hoped that our incursion would not damage them. All the houses were made of wood and covered with palm branches that facilitated the flow of rain water just as did the houses we had built for centuries. There were crowds of people everywhere and the main artery, which led to the largest pyramid, was lined with shops and workshops of artisans of every trade. And, just as I was told, it was virtually an ‘open’ town—it was not protected by any defensive system.

The town was situated a little within the north coast of the peninsula. The houses extended south and east as though on the lookout for any danger that might threaten the city from the north—namely from the sea. With the little information we had about the city, it seemed we were correct, and now all we had to do was just waiting for a propitious day. With the Sun God’s benevolence, if we had a favorable wind, only the stone buildings would survive.

It had not rained a single drop of water for more than four months. It seemed that the sky had exhausted all its reserves during the rainy season. It was also hotter than usual or at least it seemed so. The endless hours of preliminary exploration, the fear of being discovered by accident and the need to remain almost completely immobile among the sapling, shrubs and rare plants of that strange landscape, sometime drove me to doubt the success of our plan. My companions and I tried to break the boring hours with useless banter, endless rehearsals of our assigned functions and discussions regarding the possible reactions of people when the hostilities began.

After two days, our stocks of food were significantly reduced and we increased the number of our group who helped to replenish our food supply. Our ancestors had called this peninsula Yucatan which means land of deer and turkeys but there wasn’t even the shadow of these animals! I had to consider the possibility that we might have to abandon the enterprise due to lack of food.

Although food was important, it was even more difficult for us to overcome the lack of water which was even more critical due to the unbearable heat. It was natural that each town was located near a water source. It was something so obvious that I didn’t think that we could be without any water. After choosing a small hill as an ideal base for our operations, we explored the surrounding area, but found only a small stream of water in which we were able only to moisten our lips rather than to satisfy our thirst. Desperately trying to find out where the water was, I sent patrols further and further from our bivouac. I knew that the people of that city had to drink!

After careful observation of the path running at the foot of the hill