Red City on the Ocean

A Moment from the Past - A Cut-off Lifeline

Down the street, past the monotonous houses covered with thatched roofs, ran a middle–aged ticitl healer. He was in a hurry. From time to time, he stumbled and fell, but got up and ran toward his destination again. Finally, he found himself in front of a palace surrounded by a high hedge. At the gate, he was met by guards armed with spears. Two women peeked out from behind them. Without giving the ticitl a chance to catch his breath, these maids led him to the palace. All three of them walked through several spacious, luxuriously furnished halls and finally entered a bedroom.

An older woman was lying on the blankets that covered the floor in this spacious room. A man in rich clothes was lying and snoring next to her. He was clutching a cup in one hand. Judging by the smell that filled the air, the man was drunk. The room was lit by a fire burning in a ceramic bowl.

Wet rags lay here and there on the blankets. The woman was moaning in pain. At the sight of the ticitl, she let out a scream. The maids tore off her blanket, and the healer knelt in front of her. Her labor had begun. They did not rush but worked swiftly. Presently, a baby cried in the ticitl's arms. "Girl!" The maids said in unison. The woman in labor leaned her head back on the pillow. Tears streamed down her face, distorted with pain. But these were not tears of joy.

The man snoring rhythmically next to the woman in labor did not wake up, but the cup fell out of his hand.

Three people came out of the next room. The first was an old man dressed simply as he is at his home. Tufts of gray hair peeked out from under the tunic at his chest. The old man's arms and body were decorated with faded tattoos, and his head was uncovered. It was Moctezuma, Weyitlatoani of Tenochtitlan, his wrinkled face revealing his fatigue. The maids immediately left the room.

Moctezuma was accompanied by another man, slightly younger. Unlike Moctezuma, he was dressed as if a festive gathering was waiting for him there. It was the cihuacoatl of Aztlan, the weyitlatoani's main chief assistant.

The last one was a young man of about fifteen years old. "Help your mother," Moctezuma said to the young man. "Cut off the lifeline." The young man approached the naked older woman lying on the blankets. He looked at the newborn girl who was still streaked with blood and the boy's face distorted with a grimace of disgust. The young man took out a translucent blue obsidian dagger from its sheath and cut off the umbilical cord.

"Moctezuma, this is a very bad sign," said Cihuacoatl in his exquisite dress. "The priests promised the people a boy would be born, and after the troubles that have come to our land, after locusts, drought, frost, and the flood on Lake Texcoco, the people will not bear this news. The birth of a girl will cause an uproar. Before people find out about the newborn, you have to take as many citizens as possible and leave the city for war. Take the warriors away with you, so that they don't start an uprising. While you are away, Atotoztli will be able to deal with the affairs of the courts and trade."

After finishing his speech, Cihuacoatl looked at the woman on the blankets. Only now she was able to pull the blanket over herself to cover her naked body. The pain on her face was replaced by despair. The drunk lying next to the woman muttered something, rolled over, and began to snore again. Moctezuma looked at him with hatred.

Meanwhile, the ticitl cleaned the newborn's body and wrapped her in a piece of clean cloth. She wasn't crying or screaming anymore. Her eyes did not look in different directions, as happens with ordinary newborns. The girl's gaze was focused on the ticitl's face. She was smiling. Her little nose twitched curiously as if the child was trying to smell new smells. The ticitl had never met such a calm newborn.

"Axayacatl can start helping Atotoztli," Cihuacoatl continued. "Axayacatl is already quite a mature young man. As you know, our priests have already agreed that they will support him as the next Weyitlatoani of Tenochtitlan. He is the youngest son of Atotoztli and will rule longer. He can start learning how to rule our lands now."

The young man stepped up to Moctezuma and, boldly looking into his eyes, said, "I promise that I will do my mother's will in everything!" With that, he sheathed his blue dagger.

Moctezuma looked at the ticitl, then he looked at Cihuacoatl. The last nodded. The newborn girl and the ticitl must be killed.

"No!" Atotoztli shouted. Her voice was authoritative, and her aging face, illuminated by the glare of the flames, was stern but still beautiful. Cihuacoatl, who was about to call the guards, froze. Moctezuma looked at his daughter with a surprised look. "After the priests made their choice of the next weyitlatoani, I became a cihuatlatoani," Atotoztli continued resolutely. "And I forbid you to kill my daughter. She will live! My word is also law now. The only person, not from our altepetl, who will know about this secret will be the ticitl, and I oblige him to raise the girl until there is a need for her. Then, the ticitl will also witness how everything happened." After finishing her speech, the woman looked at Axayacatl with apprehension.

He felt his mother's gaze but did not respond to it and continued to stare at Moctezuma. Moctezuma sensed and understood Atotoztli's anxiety. Because of Axayacatl, she feared for the child's life. Moctezuma looked questioningly at Cihuacoatl. He shrugged his shoulders. Atotoztli did not wait for their verdict. "Ticitl, what's your name?" she asked.

"Chimalli," the ticitl replied.

"Chimalli, you will hide the newborn at home. You will raise her as your daughter. I will immediately send you a reward for taking care of me and my child, as well as a wet nurse and necessities for the care of the girl." For the sake of the child's safety, Atotoztli decided to settle them in another city, and even in the presence of the cihuacoatl and Axayacatl, she would not talk about it openly.

Atotoztli gave Moctezuma an imperious look. He waved his hand and started to go into another room but paused for a moment. He thought it would be better to take the young man away so that he would not harm his mother. The warriors and citizens of the city should also be sent away, so that they could not ignite unrest among the townspeople, incited by dissatisfied priests. After all, they all have been wanting to get rid of him for a long time. He understood this from their looks during meetings and festivals.

Moctezuma said to Axayacatl softly: "You will help me deal with the Totonac and Zapotec tribes who don't want to celebrate our festivals with us. They are in the land where the large stone head the size of a house is buried. Beyond their land lies Big Water, stretching into the sky. From there, Huitzilopochtli comes to us. There we will build a new city. It will be a city on the water, similar to Tenochtitlan. And one day this city will meet Huitzilopochtli. Get ready. In this campaign, you will be my tlacochcalcatl." Moctezuma's beautiful deep voice matched the look of his expressive, intelligent eyes.

No matter how hard Axayacatl tried to keep a serious face, he could not restrain from breaking into a joyful smile. Bowing to Moctezuma, he quickly left the bedroom.

"Thank you, Father," Atotoztli said to Moctezuma.

"We don't have much time left," Moctezuma replied, looking after his grandson who had just left. "A few years maybe. And they will fly by quickly, like the flow of drops in a waterfall. And when Axayacatl becomes the weyitlatoani, there will be no one to protect you." Moctezuma again looked at the man snoring on the floor with a look full of hatred and then left the room.