Aztec Gold

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The boy perched on the highest point of the highest hill, watching. His name was Acalan, meaning ‘canoe’. He had no idea why a boy named so would fare particularly badly at watery pursuits nor why his parents, artisans both, had named him after a water going vessel. Even the tiacotin, the slaves of his household, questioned it though not knowingly within earshot.

His eyes swept the gleaming city below. The Spanish were everywhere, their conquistadors prancing in full armor atop their horses, already conquerors in mind if not in reality. And though their leader, the one called Cortés, had departed days ago, it was later said, to fight off fellow Spaniards that were coming to arrest him, there was still another in charge tonight — one they called Alvarado.

This preening deputy governor had finally consented to the Aztecs’ many requests to allow them to celebrate the festival of Toxcatl, granted after the imprisoned leader of the Aztecs, Montezuma himself, made an impassioned plea. They were all down there now, almost a thousand men gathering in the Patio of the Gods, mostly lords and nobles, naked except for their glittering jewels and feathered headdresses, surrounded by singers and drummers, readying themselves for the festival’s beginning.

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