Coming Home
The Aztec Jaguar warrior was home from a long stretch of war. Now that the rains had arrived, he could perhaps remain home till the maize was harvested. He would then feel safe to go back to his peers protecting the borders of their empire, and he could do so with the confidence that his village and city were properly provisioned for the year ahead. Though, if he was being honest with himself, he knew this was just wishful thinking on his part. It had already been many days of continuous skirmishes and sizable battles. Almost a full year actually. Yet for 13 days all was quiet and the constant raids had stopped. The sacred number 13. Was that a coincidence? He knew with certainty that it was no coincidence and instead was an omen, but whether good or bad he did not know. He did know that this lull in the struggle was only because most of the other warbands were doing the same thing he was; going back to their homes to help ensure that the harvest was brought in successfully.
It seemed as if the triple alliance that had existed for as long as he could remember, between Tlacopan, his city-state, and his people’s ostensible allies at the city-states of Tenochtitlan and Tetzcoco was coming apart at the seams. Various outbursts of violence had broken out across the region. First between close neighboring villages, and then those had grown into full rebellions across entire regions of the empire. There had been no rhyme or reason for these conflicts. No clear pattern as to who was fighting who and why. He himself knew that he was simply fighting to defend his territories.
He had become increasingly concerned over the past two years as more and more dark omens kept coming from almost every single of his city’s cadre of High Priests. Everliving and Everchanging creatures he had only heard of in fireside tales told by his local High Priests and Soul Walkers when he was a child, were now seen openly roaming the hills and valleys around his city. Over a year ago, in response to these dark warnings, he had begun to speak with other local leaders, and together they had begun reinforcing their borders and getting the people armed and ready for open conflict. They didn’t have to wait long before the first raid took place. That was less than a year ago, and from that first raid the battles had been constant. Until now.
The city elite were always ready for battle. This was simply the way it had to be, since one never knew where an attack would come from. There were ruins scattered all around the region of the many city states from years past, which had naively thought that periods of long-lasting peace meant a new age of harmony and prosperity had dawned. Those city-states had paid for their foolish thinking with extinction.
There were even rumors of Incas coming up north on some type of quest. Prisoners he had encountered blabbered on about the Eternal Balance having been upset, and that Mother Earth was going to punish all of the Children one last time. Punishment was well deserved, as he thought of all of the scenes of desecration of her sacred body during his time on campaign. Deep mines in the soil searching for gold, human-waste polluted waters flowing into her previously pure streams and rivers, even the oceans were getting depleted of fish life by the greedy fishing practices of the ever-growing fleets that roamed up and down the eastern shores of the gulf. Yeah, he could certainly agree with the Inca prisoners that Mother Earth was about to set her abusive and unruly children straight. And that, he knew, would not be a pretty picture and would not spare any of them. Even his own family, who had always revered Mother Earth and thanked her daily for the bounties she provided him, his people and his family. He had a growing family. Now seven children strong. He was blessed by the gods. This he knew without any shadow of a doubt.
His spouse had not only bore him seven strong children, four boys and 3 girls. But she also was an incredible manager of their growing farm and hunting grounds. Like most of the local gentry women, Alix was the one who managed their trade and other affairs. She was adroit at ensuring there was no wasted resource or efforts by the local farm hands. For the past 10 years she had helped his family prosper and blessed it with food independence. Her surplus of maize always sold at high prices in the capital city. This talent at management had even earned her an invitation by the ruling families’ women to sit on the Council of the Sun, the crop-growing management group which oversaw production of all food supplies for the entire empire.
Aztec women had been managing the empire behind the scenes for as long as he could remember, and the men had been exclusively doing all of the fighting on countless battlefields from the beginning of Aztec culture to this day.
When he finally crossed the border of his lands, he was greeted by a group of his peasant guards. As always, they avoided making eye contact with him. He was happy to see that all three were battle ready. Their weapons seemed to be in good condition. Their bodies looked toned and fit. That likely meant that they had experienced a sustained period of fighting. These would be the surviving guards. The weak ones having been punished by the gods
for their weakness with capture or death. This is as it should be. This is The Way.
As he got closer to his compound and long-house some of his children walked towards him. The boys only of course. None of the girls would dare show themselves outside of their long-house without their mother in tow. And she was not likely to be at home as he knew that at this time of the year, she would likely be in the capital participating in a Council of the Sun gathering.
The boys were also looking fit. Strong and eager for action. Their strong limbs and macuahuitl short swords looked deadly and ready for battle.
As he approached the three young men on the road, he noticed that the oldest boy held his ground and the other two took flanking positions guarding their side and rears in case of unexpected attacks from those directions. He stopped in front of the trio of young warriors, and after a moment of hesitation his eldest son took a few steps toward him, stopped and made a low bow to him, addressing him in the proper greeting “honored father, taker of many skulls, we are blessed that you have returned to us wreathed in great glory. You are one of Mother Turtle’s most-blessed Children.” The young man stood straight now and looked him in the eyes, without any sign of fear. “It is good to see you Young Jaguar. You have grown.” He looked to the younger boys “as have you Thunder Serpent and you Crocodile Spirit”. Both boys responded not with words but with short bows in the direction of their father.
Here stood two generations of Aztec warriors. From now on, young and old would be tested by the most extreme of events and circumstances. The Way demanded that they never flinch, even if Cizin and the gods of death came and took them all to the underworld. And if this was to happen, then he wished that it would take place far away from one of the many power-hungry High Priests now roaming around the empire. Any of whom would likely as not raise them again from the grip of death and force them into eternal servitude as Tlalocan-bound dead. So many Aztec High Priests now a days had come to rely on such poor troops. He knew this was partly due to the desire of some High Priest’s to gain power over death itself (even if such power was only temporary at best), but also because of necessity.
The truth was that the ongoing wars were talking a heavy toll on the best troops from all of the city-states in the area. It still galled him to think that the constant fighting had reduced so many of the city states’ forces to take up the dead as the main strength of their warbands. Not for his warband. Not if he could help it. Only the very best would do. Jaguar and Eagle warriors. But perhaps even he would still need to change his tune in the future, if and when most of his better troops got ground down into the mire of the battle field by the bigger conflicts he feared were yet to come.
At the moment, as he looked into the eager and youth-filled eyes of his sons, he prayed to the gods that they would be spared such ignominy. But if it came to pass, then perhaps this would be their small sacrifice which might help restore the Eternal Balance. Not much consolation. But this after all is The Way.
