Letters to a Savage

3

Can you hear me, Atzi? Please show me a sign that you’re there. If you can hear me, this is Chimalli. I’m so scared. There’s no one left. They’re all dead, big sister…they’re all dead. I need you now more than ever, but you are not here. I cannot hear your words. What am I to do now? This is no place for a twelve-year-old boy with a baby in his arms. I am not a man yet like Ohtli…or Cuauhtémoc…or Rodrigo. I am just a boy, a terrified Aztec boy. Tears roll down my face as I form these words in my mind. How am I to survive, Atzi? How am I to protect this child, my nephew…your son? He is swaddled in a ragged, bloody cloth, and he barely clings to life at this very moment. I pray to the gods he does not cry. The guards will hear us and slit our throats.

We’re hiding from the Spaniards in a small fish barrel. They are everywhere…looting and murdering our people. I can hear the white men rummaging through a house next to me. A woman is screaming inside…she cries for help. I think they are raping her, Atzi.

Oh gods, please end this nightmare.

Smoke fills the air, and the dark of the night is here. The only light is from the flames…so many flames. I can see them through the small crevices in the barrel. The fire cracks like a whip and spreads as far as my eyes can see. The dead are everywhere, Atzi. I cannot escape the smell of burning flesh. This must be the hell Rodrigo told us about in his faith…only it’s not in the afterlife. It is here…all around me…right now.

There’s blood on my broken spear, sister. I took a man’s life tonight, and I tried to save another…but I couldn’t. It was too late. Please forgive my weakness, sister. All I want to do is die…like all the others. My mind is breaking, Atzi…help me…please! Tears keep pouring from my eyes. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. I must stay strong for this baby. He is the bridge between two worlds. He must live…and therefore, I must live.

I have to keep my mind focused. Focus, Chimalli, focus. My mind takes me back to the happiest moments of my life. With so much change…with so much death…I must think of the good times, or I will be swallowed by the bad ones. Happiness is such a stranger to me now. It is not like it used to be…when we were all together…you, me, and Ohtli. We were a family.

I still remember when we all sat together at our table for the last time. It was three nights before that fateful day at Cholula…three nights before we met the bearded white men in battle for the first time…three nights before our world changed forever.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

The wind gently whispered as it entered the open windows of our small, stone house. Ohtli was nineteen back then. Strong-willed and rugged, our brother was the bravest man I have ever known. Ohtli stared out towards the elaborate waterways that flowed through the city. The brightness of the full moon lit up the night sky and illuminated the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan, which served as the home of our ancestors for hundreds of years.   

Your soft, calming voice spoke from behind Ohtli in the Nahuatl tongue. “Come, brother. Dinner is ready.”

Ohtli slowly turned his head and nodded at you as I watched from the opening to the next room. “Thank you, Atzi. I will be there shortly,” he replied.

You nodded back at him and exited the room. Ohtli took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them. After a brief pause, he withdrew himself from the moon’s gaze and retreated from the window.

Upon entering the next room, he saw you, his seventeen year old sister, preparing the table for dinner. You had long, black hair that extended down your lower back. Your exquisite beauty made you the envy of all the young adolescents of Tenochtitlan, though I scoffed at their constant advances. None of them were good enough for my big sister.

I, only ten years old at the time, was already seated at the table when Ohtli entered. I favored him in so many ways. I looked up to him even more since our parents had died. I strived to be a great eagle warrior someday, just like Ohtli. I wanted to serve at the front of an Aztec battle line and make him proud.

“Ohtli!” I exclaimed anxiously. “You’ll never believe what I saw today!”

Ohtli looked at me with a slight grin. “Are you sure I want to know, Chimalli?” he said as he chuckled softly and took a seat at the head of the table.

“Of course you do! I went down to the creek beyond the causeway with Yaotl and Etalpalli this morning. We were searching for arrowheads on the riverbank for many hours… before we all stopped and saw it.”

My eyes gleamed with excitement while Ohtli’s smile began to wane out of concern for his little brother.

“There was a huge jaguar drinking from the creek! Just like the one that attacked you! He looked up at us, and we all froze. Then, he turned and walked away back into the forest! Can you believe it?”

Ohtli’s smile had completely faded by now. “You know you’re not supposed to go beyond the causeway without a scout with you. The jungle is no place for young boys who can’t defend themselves yet.”

I rolled my eyes at Ohtli’s comment. “But I can defend myself. So can Yaotl. It’s Etalpalli that’s the weakling. Besides, Yaotl had his spear with him.”

“None of you are strong enough or skilled enough to take down a full-grown jaguar,” replied Ohtli in Nahuatl. “Spearing fish in a creek is not the same as spearing a beast of that size. Even if he managed to strike it, Yaotl’s dull little spear would only make it angry.”

 I became annoyed at his disapproval. “But you killed one! I want to be like you! I want to be a great warrior!”

Ohtli paused and looked at you, Atzi, and you were already looking back at him to gauge his reaction. “Did you know about this?” he asked.

“Yes,” you responded with the same look of concern as our older brother. “I told him he was not allowed to go back there anymore.”

Ohtli turned his gaze back to me. “Your sister is right. You cannot go near that creek or jungle anymore, especially without a scout or warrior with you.”

“But…” I started my sentence before being interrupted by Ohtli.

“Do you see these scars?” Ohtli said ominously as he leaned forward in his chair. He pointed to the three large cuts running parallel down the right side of his face. “I did not get these scars from being a great warrior. I got them because it was not my time to join my ancestors in Mictlan. That jaguar should have killed me. He broke my body and scarred my face, Chimalli. What do you think he would have done to you?”

I put my head down and did not respond.

Ohtli continued even though it was difficult for him to get the words out. “When father died, it fell to me to be the man of this house. When I am gone, it will be up to you. Being a man is more than just being a warrior. You must learn to use your brain before you can learn to use your blade.”

I raised my head back up as a single tear ran down my face. “I don’t want you to go tomorrow,” I said while sobbing. “I don’t want to lose you like we lost father.”

Ohtli looked at you. You had also shed a tear after hearing me plead with our brother to stay. Ohtli looked distressed upon seeing both his siblings weep at the thought of his death. There was no room for weakness, though. He had to be strong for all three of us. He grasped my hand as well as yours as we looked into his eyes.

“If my time has come, I know both of you will make me proud. You will make father and mother proud, too. Now wipe those tears from your eyes, boy. You too, Atzi. If this is to be my last night with my family, I will not spend it in such despair.”  

Silence came across the room as you and I did our best to curb our emotions. This proved difficult, though, as we knew this might be the last meal the three of us would all eat together. Ohtli had spoken to me many times about his desire to be promoted from eagle warrior to jaguar warrior. He hoped to achieve this great honor at some point in his life. To wear the skins of a jaguar in battle and in service to the emperor was considered one of the most honorable positions an Aztec could hold in the army.

I had asked Ohtli about these new, pale men that had disembarked on our shores. He was reluctant to tell me about them at first because of my young age, but I convinced him of the need of all Aztecs to understand our enemy. These Spaniards, as they called themselves, had white skin and dressed in heavy suits of armor, fired long stick-like weapons that hurled small metal balls through the air, and rode on the backs of deer with no antlers. They also spoke a strange language that none of us had ever heard before. Although war had not yet been officially declared, the white man’s new alliance with our rivals in Tlaxcala was enough to prove that war was inevitable. Ohtli had been called to arms, and he and his fellow warriors had been ordered by Emperor Montezuma to intercept the Spanish invaders before they could reach Tenochtitlan. This army, led by Montezuma’s son and heir to the throne, the legendary commander Cuitlahuac, was tasked with stopping the enemy from advancing onto our sacred lands at all costs.

You did your best to form a smile as we all continued holding hands at the table. “Don’t worry, Chimalli,” you said to me. “I’m sure Cuitlahuac will be able to negotiate with the white men. They are probably just here to trade.”

I perked up at the thought of Ohtli being spared of combat. “Is this true?” I asked Ohtli.

“It is possible,” replied Ohtli in an encouraging tone. Inside, he knew this was unlikely to happen. He knew the Spanish did not ally themselves with the Tlaxcalans just to turn around and trade peacefully with the Aztecs. It was unclear what the Spanish wanted, but war became more likely with each passing day.

“Do you fear the white man, Ohtli?” I asked in Nahuatl.

Ohtli chuckled and thought hard about his response.

“I have never seen one myself, little brother, but I have spoken to others who have,” he said to me. “They fear us.”

This was not the answer I had expected. A puzzled look ran across my face.           

“They fear us?” I questioned. “How can that be? All I have heard are stories of their bravery and ferocity.”

“Do not confuse bravery with brutality, Chimalli,” Ohtli said. “Burning peaceful villages and killing those who can’t defend themselves is far from brave. Make no mistake…these invaders are nothing more than cowards that hide beneath their big, fancy suits of metal.”  

The thought of our brother fighting these strange, violent men troubled me. “Will you pray at the temple with me?” I asked nervously.

“Isn’t it a bit late for that tonight?” replied Ohtli.

“Please.”

Ohtli sat quietly for a moment as he looked at the concerned expression on my face. “Ok, Chimalli. We can go to the temple.”

My look of concern turned into a small grin. Of course, both Ohtli and myself looked towards you, my sister, to gain your approval as we always did.

“You must finish your food first,” you said to us. “Both of you,” you remarked while smiling at Ohtli.

After mother had died while giving birth to me, you took on a motherly role for us. We could not have survived without you, sister. You sacrificed so much for Ohtli and me…and for father before he was killed in battle fighting the Tlaxcalans. We will be forever grateful, Atzi.

“Yes ma’am,” Ohtli replied to you only half-jokingly as he and I chuckled together.

The three of us ate heartily and laughed merrily with each other through the remainder of the meal. After we finished, Ohtli and I thanked you and set out through the city in the direction of the temple complex. As always, you told us to be careful, but nothing bad ever happened in Tenochtitlan. Crime was rare within the city. We all lived in relative peace and harmony, worshipping the gods and living a noble life in their honor.

I miss that peace…it is sadly only a memory now.

Back then, Tenochtitlan was a vast metropolis of elegance and splendor, as you know, consisting of a wide variety of buildings such as pyramids, temples, palaces, markets, barracks, fisheries, schools, businesses, and aqueducts. The abundant population of the city included priests, warriors, scouts, workers, beggars, and slaves, all of which answered to our emperor and earthly god, Montezuma, second of his name. Tenochtitlan was the largest city in the world, at least that we knew of. Rodrigo once told me of the vast cities in his homeland that were even bigger than Tenochtitlan, but I hardly believed him. The capital of our empire was built on a large island in the middle of Lake Texcoco with a causeway that served as a giant bridge and primary entrance and exit of the city. It was the center of all civilization for our corner of the world, and most of the region’s commerce went through Tenochtitlan.

Forgive me, Atzi. I digress. You know this already. 

“Beautiful night, isn’t it little brother?” inquired Ohtli as the light of the moon gently kissed the flowing water beneath the small bridge we crossed. “The goddess of the moon has blessed this evening.”

“Yes,” I replied. I was unusually quiet during our stroll that night.

“Something on your mind?” asked Ohtli.

“You know what’s on my mind.”

“Well then take it off your mind. You still have not told me which temple you wish to pray at tonight.”

“Quetzalcoatl,” I said.

 Ohtli was surprised at my answer. “The feathered serpent?” he asked. “Wouldn’t you rather pray to the god of war so that he may lead us to victory over our enemies?”

“I have seen many of our people praying to the war god,” I replied. “There have been countless sacrifices made at his temple since the white men arrived. During all this talk of war, I have noticed that people have almost forgotten about Quetzalcoatl.”

A smile came across Ohtli’s face. My maturity impressed him. “I know that Emperor Montezuma hasn’t forgotten about him. He seems to think the feathered serpent will return very soon to take up his throne and lead our people.”

“Would Montezuma just give up his rule like that?” I asked. “Is he not one of our gods as well?”

“Of course he is our god, brother,” said Ohtli, “but the emperor is still a mortal. Even he cannot deny the prophecy. Montezuma will gladly step down when the time comes.”

“What about Cuitlahuac and Cuauhtemoc?” my questions continued. “The emperor’s sons are brave warriors.”

“Brave and loyal to the Aztec ways,” Ohtli responded. “Cuitlahuac is my commander, and Cuauhtemoc is my friend. They will follow the prophecy just like the rest of us.”     

I nodded in understanding of our older brother’s words as we continued to walk together. I took Ohtli’s teachings to heart as I always did. Almost everything I had learned about this world had come from either Ohtli or you. Father was away fighting the Tlaxcalans for most of my childhood. I think the pain of losing mother caused him to stay away from our home. Now that father was dead, I looked up to Ohtli even more, as if he were a god himself.

“So, can we pray to Quetzalcoatl?” I asked.   

Ohtli nodded in approval. “Ok, Chimalli. As you wish.”

Upon entering the temple district, Ohtli and I saw many other Aztecs even at this late hour of the night. Priests, warriors, and commoners alike all gathered to pray to the gods and offer gifts to them. They hoped to earn the gods’ favor in every aspect of life. The complex was particularly crowded this night since everyone knew the army was leaving in the morning to go and meet the Spanish invaders and their dishonorable Tlaxcalan allies.

Ohtli and I made our way to the feathered serpent’s temple.

“Do you think he will hear our prayers?” I inquired in Nahuatl.

“Of course he will,” responded Ohtli. “It is what he will do with those prayers that is the question.”

As we approached, I looked upon the vast temple that was dedicated to Quetzalcoatl, the chief deity of the Aztec people. I asked Ohtli nervously, “What if he finds us unworthy?”

“You worry too much, Chimalli. The will of the gods will be fulfilled. All we can do is submit to them and throw ourselves at their mercy.”

I nodded but still looked nervous.

We climbed the steps of the temple and gazed upon the majestic drawings and brightly colored ornaments that adorned the walls and alters. An abundance of gold decorated the entirety of the temple and served as an offering to the gods. It was a beautiful and powerful sight to behold, but it was nothing new to us. Growing up in the Aztec Empire and in Tenochtitlan, we were accustomed to such an illustrious display of submission to the gods.

Ohtli and I knelt at the golden alter that was covered in vibrant jewels and murals. It was quiet at first, with neither of us making a sound. Then, we began performing the sacred chants to the gods in the Nahuatl language. Surely, the feathered serpent would hear us calling out to him. An Aztec priest saw us praying and walked over to us. The old holy man, dressed in lavish religious robes and a feathered headdress, chanted alongside Ohtli and me, and the three of us made a glorious display of prayer and obedience to Quetzalcoatl.

“Feel his energy, Chimalli,” Ohtli said with his eyes closed and his hands lifted to the sky as the priest continued with his chants. “Quetzalcoatl is alive within us. He runs through our veins like blood. Feel his power. Feel his spirit. He is in every blade of grass, every gust of wind. He is our creator, our life-force. Let your body go and feel his presence come over you.”

I imitated Ohtli as I too closed my eyes and lifted my hands in the air. The two of us, both mortal and imperfect Aztecs, gave complete submission to the feathered serpent. He was a part of us. He gave us life, meaning, and purpose. He was the epitome of the Aztec way of life, and every man, woman, and child within the empire worshipped him and submitted to his authority.

After our prayers were over, we thanked the priest and left the temple district. The trip home was even more quiet than the trip to the temple. Ohtli and I walked side by side in silence, thinking about what had happened and what was to come. The way of the Aztec was difficult to understand for a boy of my age, but with Ohtli’s help, the spirit of the jaguar began to flow through me like a river of blood.

We finally arrived back to our house where you were already asleep for the night. Ohtli and I quietly entered the house and walked softly so we wouldn’t wake you. We stood across the room from each other as a single lit candle provided a small degree of light.

 Ohtli looked at the long spear that displayed on the wall. “Do you see that spear?” he whispered quietly.

I turned and gazed upon it as well. It didn’t appear to be anything special. It looked like a common spear with a wooden handle and an obsidian tip. I knew of its importance, though.

“Our father passed that spear to me just like his father did for him,” Ohtli said. “It has been in our family for many generations. It’s not meant to be used in combat, but it’s as sharp as it was the day it was made.” He walked over to the spear and removed it from its hooks on the wall. He held it in his hands and we both looked upon it with help from the candlelight. “One day, I will have a son, and I will pass this to him before I’m gone.”

“I cannot think of a better man to have such an honor,” I whispered, exalting our brother.

Ohtli placed his hand on my shoulder and smiled at me. He then turned and set the spear back on the wall.

“You should get some sleep, Chimalli,” Ohtli said.

“But I want to stay up with you,” I pleaded.

“You will see me in the morning before I leave.”

My head lowered. “Promise?”

“I promise,” said Ohtli reassuringly. “I will wake you and your sister to say goodbye…for now.”

I gave a half-hearted smile back to him and nodded. I turned to walk into my room but stopped just I entered. From the shelf on my wall, I grabbed a small wooden carving of a serpent that Ohtli had made for me. As I looked at the serpent, along with the many other carvings he had made for me over the years, I uttered four short words to him in Nahuatl that I know engrained in his mind.

“Come back to us.”

I then entered my room as Ohtli stood in silence, no doubt wondering if this was the last night he would ever spend with his family.

Ohtli picked up the candle from the table. He took a deep breath and extinguished the flame.