Ahuitzotl. Herb AllengerЧитать онлайн книгу.
ordered their warriors into march columns. One trailing the other, they filed out of the plaza through its west gate until it stood in emptiness except for a few observers too old or too young to participate in the venture who had risen early enough to witness the procession.
Once the armies broke into their route step, they progressed quickly and quietly, with talking kept to a minimal in the ranks. Leading the host was a detachment of chieftains and selected warriors noted for their bravery who formed the reconnaissance party. Normally ahead of the main force by a full two day’s march, the proximity of Toluca negated the logistical and security requirements typically entailed with such movements. Soldiers carried their rations in netted sacks, and because the area had been well covered by the advance parties sent out weeks ago, many of the precautions ordinarily applied, such as scouting out the canyons, ravines, and adjacent hills and forests, were unnecessary. Consequently, only a half day’s march separated it from the next unit.
The main body advanced in four primary components, each separated from the other by a distance of approximately twelve leagues. Heading it was a company composed of priests who moved by themselves, requiring no protection as their sanctity was all-encompassing and extended them safety even in hostile regions. After it came the Army of Tenochtitlan with its Tlatelolco subdivision and led by its elite Order of the Eagles, a unit comprised of a thousand teuctli—knights—the boldest and most courageous warriors of the realm. Behind it was the court entourage with Tizoc in his litter, his closest advisors, Ahuitzotl with his primary staff, and Tlohtzin in front of the Order of the Jaguars—a unit of the same strength level and nearly equal prestige as its Eagle counterpart. The bulk of the soldiery, divided into squadrons based on the their quarter of the city, formed the rear. With its congregate units and intervals, the Army of Tenochtitlan extended to a length of ten leagues. The Army of Acolhuacan, led by its own Eagle and Jaguar Orders under Nezahualpilli, trailed Tenochtitlan’s, and was, in turn, followed by the Army of Tepaneca commanded by Chimalpopoca.
All that day the column moved steadily forward and as evening drew near, a suitable campsite was selected by each army which afforded some protection for its overnight stay. Ahuitzotl secured an elevated knoll for Tenochtitlan’s army with guards posted in a defense perimeter. Soldiers erected shelters and campfires for their chieftains while they themselves slept on blankets spread over a plot of earth covered with leaves stripped off the shrubs and trees in the vicinity. Each unit, down to the squad level, set up its own fires, and when darkness settled in, hundreds of burning lights dotted the landscape in clusters marking the location of its army. Upon one such bonfire was roasted a deer caught earlier for Tizoc and his notables who enjoyed the venison eaten along with fruit, nuts, and other food items carried in their ration packs.
“There’s something to be said for a meal under a night sky,” commented Tizoc. “Even the dried fruit has a succulence I rarely noticed. Regrettably Nezahualipilli is at his own camp. His company would be most agreeable now.”
“Tomorrow we’ll be as one before Toluca,” said Ahuitzotl. “Zozoltin will gaze out from his palace and see a thousand burning fires in the distance—a sight to stop his heart.”
“Just the thing to make him consider surrendering to us.”
“You would still allow him to do that?” sneered Ahuitzotl.
“Those were our original terms,” Tizoc bluntly reminded his commander. “Why should they change?”
“The conditions under which they were granted are not the same,” answered Ahuitzotl.
“Indeed. How are they different?”
It became evident to everyone seated around the fire that a confrontation was developing; the resulting tension created some discomfort, not only for those observing it, but also for Ahuitzotl who had not intented that his words should lead to this.
“They were made before we assembled our armies and moved on Toluca,” said Ahuitzotl.
“But we anticipated this,” countered Tizoc with appreciable agitation. “I should not have to remind you of it. Why are you making an issue of this now?”
“It is different now that we have come this far,” Ahuitzotl said, seeking to extricate himself from the controversy he had unwittingly generated. “A momentum is in progress. Warriors are eager for battle—we should not disappoint them.”
“And who determines our policy? An assembly of our council leaders or our warriors?”
Tizoc could be a formidable antagonist if he so chose. He was not made Revered Speaker for any lack of abilities or alternative choices and often had moments of brilliance, particularly on the intellectual plane, which impressed those who witnessed it displayed. Ahuitzotl realized that he had underestimated him and now found himself pressed to make a face-saving retreat.
“You misunderstand,” he squirmed. “I merely meant to point out that our soldiers should be rewarded for having undergone this journey. Their efforts should not be expended over nothing.”
“I see. You suggest that a bloodless victory is an insufficient reward—that it is nothing.”
“You demean my purpose, Lord. They wish to serve the gods. Their valor must be tested so their true worthiness can be demonstrated. It’s necessary that they expose themselves to dangers. Captives must be taken.”
Tizoc saw that Ahuitzotl remained persistent in his obstinacy and deemed it useless to continue this verbal exchange. By now the tension had settled so heavily over the group that any relief, however slight, would be welcomed, and Tizoc, sensing the worriment of his ministers, decided to prudently alleviate their apprehensiveness.
“They may still get their chance,” he said. “It appears unlikely Zozoltin will surrender peaceably to us, but he shall nevertheless be given his opportunity. We promised him that, and I am obligated to abide by our words. We know you opposed this, Ahuitzotl, but a majority in our council believed it the correct decision. I see no point in carrying on with this debate. My position should be clear to you.”
Ahuitzotl, seeing that Tizoc had offered him an opening to end their standoff, gratefully grasped for it. “It is, Lord,” he said, “I retract any assertion that I disapprove of the council’s policy. My duty is to serve it.”
“I’m gratified to hear it,” Tizoc beamed in a rare smile. “I consider the matter closed.”
Their reconciliation was received as a heavy burden lifted from the backs of everyone seated there and, in more than one instance, a low sigh of released nervousness was heard over the crackling fire. On each face could be read the thoughts possessing its bearer: Tizoc was gratified—for once he had faced up to Ahuitzotl without backing down and had, in a small but significant way, gotten the best of him; Tlohtzin exhibited no particular emotion beneath his stoic expression except perhaps some relief that things did not get out of hand; Motecuhzoma gaped wide-eyed and was obviously impressed. As for Ahuitzotl, he fluctuated between moods of irritability over finding himself disadvantaged in front of the group and a genuine, although begrudging, respect for his brother. He was on the verge of erupting into an explosion of fury which he would not have been able to contain and, in all probability, come to regret—Tizoc spared him from that. In spite of his seeming faintheartedness, the Revered Speaker could be aroused into an opposition that was threatening.
At dawn the armies resumed their march, passing through a number of villages along the route where they drew a few admiring glances from children thrilled by the spectacle and the general hostile stares of adults who bore no friendliness for the Mexica, viewing them as aggressive belligerants out to subdue another unfortunate people. Once out of Anahuac, the Mexica were rarely received with warmth by a local populace which was kept under their yoke by force of arms and threats of destruction. Unlike many previous conquerors who had contributed to the general welfare of a subjugated people, the Mexica offered no benevolence or enlightment and instead invoked great fear through the excessive demands of their bloodthirsty gods. They inspired no loyalties or sense of pride and were, on the whole, much despised. Not that this troubled them any; their entire history had been one marked by humiliating degradation at the hands of their