Five Jaguar
Published by Richard C. Rogers at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Richard C. Rogers
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Poems 33 and 48, translated by Edward Kissam, are taken from Flower and Song: Poems of the Aztec Peoples translated by Edward Kissam and Michael Schmidt. Second edition published by Anvil Press Poetry in 2009.
Cover image copyright Sergey Gelman | Dreamstime.com.
Chapter 1
In the Clan School
Willows growing at the water's edge were dark in the early morning light as Huemac propelled the wide, flat-bottomed boat through the canal. Each time he took the pole out of the sticky mud at the bottom of the canal it dripped, splashing quietly, the only sound besides the singing of birds in the trees. His friends Cipactli and Uetzcayotl sat below him in the boat, resting on blocks of stone. The boys said nothing, their faces betraying no emotion, as patient and calm as the water beneath them.
The morning sun rose over Mount Tlaloc east of Tenochtitlan, illuminating the holy shrines at the top of the Great Temple. The priests blew the conch shells before sunrise, and already the city was awake. In the homes of the commoners, women were grinding corn using mano and metate--Huemac could hear the familiar scrape scrape scrape sound coming from every open door. In the fields beside the canal men worked with digging sticks and hoes, tending the corn plants, tomatoes, beans, amaranth and maguey that fed and clothed the people. In other parts of the city, nobles--as committed to the ethic of hard work as any laborer--began their duties as administrators, judges, priests and scribes. And in many places in and around the city, students like Huemac, Cipactli and Uetzcayotl were working for their clans.
Every clan in the city had its own school--the telpochcalli--where all the young men lived from the time they turned fifteen until they married. Huemac enjoyed his life there. He was not as successful as his older brother or some other students, but he was good at a few things and believed that he did not embarrass himself. He knew the importance of the education he received there, and enjoyed many of the activities. In the telpochcalli, alongside his closest friends, he learned the history of the Mexica, and the history of all the Nahuatl-speaking people in Anahuac, the Valley of Mexico; he learned the geography of Anahuac and its many lakes, rivers and cities; he learned the secrets of the festivals and sacrifices; he learned the craft of rope-making, for which their clan was famous; he learned the stories of Tezcatlipoca, Huitzilopochtli, and Tlaloc, along with many other gods; and he memorized the sacred songs, the hymns, the histories and the poems for the gods' celebrations.
But most of all, he learned the skills of war: how to throw a dart with an atlatl; how to shoot a bow; how to carry a heavy spear; how to swing the warclub with its razor-sharp obsidian blades. Just as importantly, he learned how the Mexica conducted themselves as warriors, and as men.
All these things he learned, but like the other students he also had to work every day. In the fields, they tended plots of land that belonged to the school, growing much of their own food. They helped build the chinampas, or repaired canals, as they were doing that morning. Sometimes they worked in the city alongside young men from other clans, adding to the King's palace or enlarging one of the shrines in the Temple District. They swept and cleaned their school, maintained the buildings, and tended the flower gardens that added their charm and beauty to the school grounds.
Because they were taught to think of work as service to the gods, and necessary to keep order in the universe, they treated work as a sacrament. Hard work and dedication was righteous, and demanded from every citizen. Huemac remembered being punished for idleness when he was very small. Now, as a young man, hard work was part of him.
His cloak, knotted over his shoulder, opened as he poled the boat along, and the breeze off the water was cool on his skin. He shivered involuntarily, but then forced himself to ignore the cold. A warrior had to be strong. Cold was nothing. Pain was nothing. Thirst and hunger and weariness were nothing to a warrior.
As they passed a high-walled chinampa, a man on the surface above--one of Cipactli's uncles, Huemac saw--raised his hand in greeting. The boys waved back, and he immediately returned to work with his digging stick. No one spoke.
As the light grew, Huemac looked at the faces of his friends. Both were thin and brown, with noses hooked like an eagle's beak. Cipactli was smaller than Uetzcayotl, with a narrow face and dark brown, almond-shaped eyes. Uetzcayotl was taller than both of them, with a wide face like the Chichimecas of the north, and thick lips.
Huemac had never seen his own face in a mirror--the holy obsidian mirrors of the priests were symbols of the dangerous god Tezcatlipoca, and he feared to look at them--but he had seen himself reflected in the still canal water in the bright light of day, and knew his face well enough. He was thin and brown like his friends, near enough in appearance that they could all be brothers, and also had the almond-shaped eyes common to his people. His nose was long like the king's, and his thin body was hard from a lifetime of work.
When they arrived at the work site, a group of students were on the bank, unloading cut stone from another boat. Huemac landed next to them. Their head teacher, Cuitlahuac, helped pull the boat alongside the island and immediately reached for the blocks they had brought. Uetzcayotl started passing them up, and other students came to help unload. Within a few minutes they had all the blocks out of the boat.
"Come up," Cuitlahuac said to the three boys, extending a hand to help them out.
Dozens of students and grown men of the clan were rebuilding a canal wall. Some were in the waist-deep water, placing blocks as directed by clan stonemasons, and the teacher asked Cipactli and Uetzcayotl to join them. They unknotted their cloaks and laid them out of the way, working only in loincloths. Other students and workers moved dirt, or built temporary braces for the walls from beams of wood.
"Huemac," Cuitlahuac said, gesturing with his hand. Huemac went to him.
Cuitlahuac, too, had put aside his cloak, and Huemac saw how his hard upper body was covered with white scars from his warrior days. In his lower lip he wore a lip-plug of bone carved to look like a jaguar head. The teacher was a tall man with a stern expression, and looked almost as if he were angry, but Huemac had learned that that was just his way.
"You will leave the boat here and take the bigger canoe," Cuitlahuac told him. "Cross the lake to the city of Coyohuacan and bring back the bitumen. We need it soon--the work will be stopped without it. Do you know the place in the city where I want you to go?"
"I do, Teacher."
Cuitlahuac gave him a purse filled with cacao beans. "Pay for porters to bring the bitumen to the canoe."
Huemac put the string over his head so that the purse dangled from his neck. Then he tucked it inside his cloak.
"How quickly can you return?"
Huemac looked over his shoulder to the south, as if he could see Coyohuacan, far across the lake. He turned back. "Three hours, Teacher," he answered. He would have to paddle hard the whole way to make it in that amount of time.
"Go, then," the man said, and turned away to continue his own work.
Huemac was happy with the job that morning. He was pleased that the teacher trusted him, and enjoyed traveling alone in the canoe. But years later, Huemac would remember that day for two things he saw on the trip to Coyohuacan.
The first thing he saw was a runner coming up the causeway from Ixtapalapa. As they neared one other, Huemac was happy to see that he had his hair tied in the manner which indicated good news. In addition, the runner was singing a joyful hymn of thanks to Huitzilopochtli, the patron god of the Mexica.
Huemac knew from these signs that the Aztec army had been successful in war. The warriors of the Triple Alliance--Tenochtitlan, Texcoco and Tlacopan--had attacked the city-state of Teocuilco. The runner was certainly bringing news of the victory to the capital city.
The second thing he saw, just moments later, was a procession marching up the same causeway, heading for the island city. At the front marched a warrior proudly carrying a standard with the symbol of the city-state Chalco, a client state. Behind him came a delegation of city leaders in fine clothes, and behind them came porters carrying the tribute they owed the tlatoani, King Motecuhzoma.
Many porters carried beautiful cloaks of cotton and maguey, some of them dyed the dark red color that came from the cochineal beetle. Behind them came men carrying rich jewelry of gold, turquoise and jade. Next came men carrying decorated warrior costumes that would be worn by nobles and other army commanders. Behind that came many men carrying bundles of quetzal feathers and other brightly-colored feathers from macaws, parrots and other tropical birds. Dozens of men carried loads of firewood, enough to supply the temples for weeks. Other men carried baskets that Huemac knew would contain cacao beans, cotton, flowers in clay pots, and many other useful and valuable items. It was a greater fortune than he had ever seen in his life all in one place.
Huemac paddled on towards Coyohuacan, grateful he was born a citizen of Tenochtitlan, and was a free man.
Chapter 2
The House of Song
The man facing Huemac with a long-handled spear terrified him. He almost wanted to drop his spear and run. Students watched their fight from all sides, so he had to do his best to look brave.
Citlacoatl was a true warrior, as hard as stone, and intimidating to face one-on-one, even in practice. He had expensive adornments: a bronze nose-plug, unusual for a commoner, shaped like a two-headed snake, and a lip-plug of bone carved in the shape of a human skull. His hair was tied with a ribbon on the top of his head, indicating his status as a warrior who had captured prisoners in battle. In addition to these proofs of his skill and ferocity, he had stained his teeth dark red with cochineal dye, and grimaced menacingly.
Huemac hoped that Citlacoatl remembered that this was practice, and gripped his own spear more tightly. He made his best angry, warrior face at his opponent.
Without warning, Citlacoatl stabbed at Huemac's middle. Quickly, Huemac stepped back and knocked the spear aside with his own weapon. Then he stepped forward, stabbing at Citlacoatl's chest. An instant before his practice spear could touch the warrior's skin, Citlacoatl brought his spear straight up. With a loud crack! the wooden handle of Huemac's spear was knocked painfully from his fingers. It went spinning away behind him, making spectators jump out of the way.
The weapon clattered noisily to the ground, and Citlacoatl's spear was now against his chest.
"Sit, Huemac," Cuitlahuac said from behind him.
All around the courtyard of the school, young men crouched, watching the practice. They had finished their work on the canal, and had returned to the school for training in battle. Others took their turn facing the dangerous warrior, but none could defeat him.
After the practice, the boys listened silently while the warrior told them about war. He spoke slowly, but in a clear voice. Citlacoatl described battle and strategy, telling them about the strong enemies of the Triple Alliance, like the Nahuatl-speaking Tlaxcallans to the east, and the foreign Tarascans to the west. He reminded them to honor the gods of war, especially Tezcatlipoca and Huitzilopochtli. And he told them the reward for dying in war.
"When a warrior dies in battle," he said, "his spirit does not go to the Underworld as it does for other men. It goes to the Eastern Paradise, to travel with Tonatiuh, the Sun, every day, from morning until noon. A warrior is honored in death, honored for his sacrifice." He told them that their spirits would return after a few years as butterflies or hummingbirds. Huemac tried to imagine what that would be like.
"If you are brave enough," he told them with slow, widely-spaced words, "you will take a captive to feed Huitzilopochtli; in that day, your family will rejoice, and your clan will rejoice with you. Your hair will be cut, a new cloak will put upon your body, and the god of our people will forever remember your name."
The warrior's words sent chills of pride up Huemac's spine. The Aztecs were a great people, and strong in war.
Sometimes Huemac feared that he might fail, shaming himself, embarrassing his family. He knew he would never equal his brother's skill in war. Tenochca--or Five Jaguar, as most called him--had always been one of the best at school, and now was a success in true war. But Huemac's pride always pushed him. You must be great, his pride said. You will chase your enemies; they will die upon your spear and men will praise you! He imagined the way women, especially Xiomara, would see him differently when he became a warrior.
Citlacoatl spoke for a long time, talking most about honor and courage. Huemac took his words into his heart, where they burned and glowed long after the lesson was over.
At last, they had their evening meal, seated on the dirt floor of the school. They ate tamales stuffed with hot chilies, and tortillas with beans, though there was never enough to satisfy. They were taught from childhood to eat only a little; hunger, like pain and cold and weariness, was an enemy they had to learn to defeat. Only weak men and fools gave in to their appetite and ate too much food, or slept too long.
He sipped water from a gourd and passed it to Cipactli. Around them the young men were relaxing and talking, enjoying a few moments of free time.
"Citlacoatl is a great warrior," Uetzcayotl said. "What was it like to face him?"
Huemac didn't raise his eyes. "I was afraid of him."
Cipactli laughed, but without judgment. "Citlacoatl with a spear would frighten anyone, even your brother."
That was unlikely. His brother was never afraid.
"It is almost time for the house of song," Uetzcayotl said with a smile, turning to a topic as interesting to Huemac as the war. "The girls will be there tonight."
Huemac's heart seemed to stop for a moment. "I know," he said. In his mind he pictured Xiomara, the young woman he had noticed many times but never spoken to. She was beautiful and small and danced with grace. There would be many young women at the house of song that night, but she was the one he most wanted to see.
It was in the house of song that the young men and women were taught the holy dances that were part of every festival, and many of the hymns that they would be required to sing.
Most of the time, the young men and women practiced separately. But the month of Atlacahualo approached, when Tenochtitlan would celebrate the festival of Chalchiutlicue, the goddess of lakes and rivers. That meant they needed to practice the dances together with the young women. It also meant there would be no school for the next few days, during which time they could go back home to sleep and live.
"Will you talk to her tonight?" Cipactli asked Huemac. "Do you have the courage this time?" He also smiled, and the two young men watched Huemac with good humor to see how he would react.
The teachers were strict about the training, and students could be punished for talking. But even with the threat of punishment, talking to Xiomara was worth the risk.
"We're not supposed to talk to the girls," he said, though many young men and women broke the rules. "Maybe," he added, and felt a sudden fear and excitement at the same time. He grinned.
* * * * *
The Dance Elder chose Huemac to be one of the musicians at the start of the practice. He wanted to be on the dance floor with the others, but instead he was given the log drum, the teponaztli, and wooden mallets to play it with. The instrument produced two different notes depending on which side was struck, and one of the music teachers showed him how to play. Huemac sat on a kind of altar at one end of a large room with students and teachers playing many instruments: reed flute, clay flute, rattles, and many kinds of drum.
The space in front of him was half filled, with the young men and young women on opposite sides. Torches along the adobe walls made the room bright. Beside him the Dance Elder called the chant and the dancers stepped forward.
He finally saw Xiomara among the dancers, and he followed her with his eyes from that moment on. She had flowers in her hair, and her dark eyes flashed in the torch-light. With long, thin fingers she held her skirt, turning this way and then that, and her small feet hardly seemed to touch the floor. Boys on every side watched her with as much interest as he did. For most of the dance her eyes were downcast, but when she came close to the altar where he sat with his drum she looked up. Huemac thought she smiled at him. A second later she was hidden in the crowd once again. Later he wondered if she had smiled at him at all.
When the first dance ended the teachers selected new musicians, and Huemac joined the dancers. With his heart pounding, he walked directly to the part of the floor where Xiomara waited for the start of the next dance. She was with her friends, Quetzalxochitl and Malintzin. They were both small and pretty, like her, and the three girls stood close together; he had no chance to be alone with Xiomara. Gathering his nerve, he stopped directly in front of her, and all the young women looked at the ground. There was only a moment before the music would begin.
"I am very happy you are here tonight," he said to Xiomara, as he had practiced in his mind. "I hoped you would be."
Xiomara looked up at his face, but not into his eyes. "Why is that?" she asked him. The girl named Malintzin giggled, and he began to fear that he was making a mistake. Xiomara smiled innocently. The other girl, Quetzalxochitl, made an angry face at Xiomara.
He felt his face get hot with embarrassment, but he had no choice but to plunge ahead. "Because ..." he began, and then swallowed. "Well, you're the prettiest girl here, and you... you dance the most beautifully." He had practiced the words in his head, but they sounded so pathetic when he said them out loud. Never before had he said such things to a girl, and his embarrassment grew.
Xiomara laughed musically, and Malintzin did, too. "You have fine words, young Huemac," she said, and turned away. She made a face at Malintzin, and the two of them laughed as they walked away.
Huemac felt like a fool.
Quetzalxochitl smiled at him over her shoulder in an apologetic way. "I'm sorry, One Rabbit," she said, then turned and followed her friends.
Embarrassed, Huemac turned around and walked right into his friends, Uetzcayotl and Cipactli.
"That is why you aren't supposed to talk to the girls in the house of song," Cipactli said. Then his friends laughed in a friendly way, and Huemac had to smile. But he couldn't hide his disappointment.