CHAPTER 1

Becoming a man is hardly worth the effort!

That was Ahuatzi’s thought as the sun beat down and his feet and toes squelched in the fresh mud of the chinampa.  Built by his village just last year, it was essentially a large island of collected earth and lake plants floating in the water, bounded on all sides by wooden posts driven deep into the lakebed below.   Normally, he would have been surrounded by his family, friends, and neighbors all working alongside.  But Ahuatzi was nearing seventeen, the age of manhood in the Butterfly Tribe, and one did not become a man of the tribe by merely getting older.  It was up to Ahuatzi to show he was ready, and for a Butterfly there were two things that made a man a man: farming, and the Pledge.  Ahuatzi had been tasked with planting this chinampa by himself so the council could evaluate his work.

Probably the largest chinampa in the Empire, he thought sullenly.  He knew that was not true, but right now he was having trouble believing what he knew. 

Ahuatzi gouged the soil with his stick and stooped to gently lay kernels of corn from his heavy hemp bag into the small hole.  He stopped to wipe sweat from his brow with the back of a mud-caked hand.  Then another step, another gouge into the soft mud, and another few kernels planted.  He wiped his brow again.  Then he took another step.  And so on.  And so on.  He’d been at it since before dawn, and now the sun was climbing to midday.  Another hour or so and it would be vacac, the sixth hour past sunrise, when he could eat and sleep during the hottest time of day.  Then he would wake and be back at it again, until long after dark.

And again the next morning, he thought grimly.  Ahuatzi straightened and looked back at his planting.  And maybe the next. 

At his current pace, Ahuatzi doubted he would have even a third of the chinampa planted before he went to bed.  That was bad.  Speed mattered; it was one of the things the council would consider in evaluating his performance.  A farmer had to be able to work fast.  The corn had to come first and be down quickly so the beans and squash could also be planted before the heavy rains came.  The sturdy corn stalks would give the beans something to use as they climbed to the heavens, seeking the light.  The squash would spread down below and shade the roots from too much water and sun. 

Yes, he would need to work much faster if he wanted to prove himself.  However, he did take some comfort knowing his rows were very straight, his holes evenly spaced, and the right depth.  Neatness counted too; bad work done quickly fed no one at harvest.   Ahuatzi personally preferred neatness to speed in most things. 

He straightened and stretched his back.  He unstopped the deerskin bottle that hung around his neck from a twisted leather cord.  Ahuatzi drank just enough to take the edge of his thirst.  Meanwhile, his feet sank down further into the mud.  Xichán, his older brother, said that if one held still too long on a newly built chinampa he would sink to the bottom.  Ahuatzi did not believe that but he shifted his feet anyway.  No point in taking chances.  Even Xichán could be right now and then.

Ahautzi stoppered the bottle and went back to his work.  He tried to work faster.  He was not successful.  He settled for neatness and just kept at it.  At least it was a pace he knew he could maintain. 

Maybe he would not sleep during vacac, just eat corn cakes in the shade and then work during the afternoon heat.  Just thinking about it made him feel tired all over.  But then he thought about the council and his slow start today, which woke him back up.  He kept on working, sowing more corn as the sun climbed higher and higher.  Stab, stoop, straighten, and again. 

Finally, he knew he had had enough.  He felt himself stagger as he dug the stick into the mud, and more than once the kernels spilled out of his hand before reaching the hole.  It was time.  Time spent resting now would make him work better later.  He looked at a stand of jacaranda trees near the far shore, their purple spring blossoms waving invitingly in a high breeze.  Ahuatzi could sit in their shade and rest his feet in the water.  He slowly made his way across the chinampa and back to solid ground.  He retrieved his sandals, bound them around his feet, and began walking.

He soon arrived at his destination.  He dug into his bag for his corn cakes.  Wrapped in leaves to keep them soft and fresh, his sister had flavored them with honey.  With a prayer to Kukulkán he began to eat.  He drank some more and sat with his feet in the small streamlet that fed the lake. 

The chinampa did not look so very big from here.  Above, the wind sighed and shook the branches.  Jacaranda blossoms fell around him.  He leaned back against one of the tree trunks.  He would not sleep during the vacac; just close his eyes and listen to the sounds: wind in the trees, water lapping at his feet.  That would be enough.  His eyes closed.  He drifted in and out, letting it all wash over him. 

That was when the attack came.

 

Dialogue sample:  

 

“Ahuatzi!”

Xochi ran over to where Ahuatzi was slinging a heavy pack across Kilca’s back.  One of two llamas kept by the village, Kilca was a gentle soul and a sure-footed friend on any journey.  She waited patiently as Ahuatzi finished securing the load, then bent her long, graceful neck to pluck up some grasses. 

Task done, Ahuatzi turned to his sister and greeted her. “Health, Xochi.”

“Papa said you were not going to the chinampa again today.  He said you go to trade with the Turtle tribe.”

“Yes,” Ahuatzi said.  “It was decided last night.”  He yawned.  After Ahuatzi’s decision to forbear the Pledge, there had been no reason to not have everyone pitch in.  Yesterday the men of the village had come and together finished working Ahuatzi’s chinampa.  They had worked late, but now the last of the corn was all planted. It would be a few days before the beans would follow. The village could work on other chores now like thatching roofs and digging trenches before the rainy season.  Nopaltzín had suggested Ahuatzi be the one to take the trade.  Ahuatzi was excited, he had never been so far in his life. 

“Acahuatl is doing the trade,” Ahuatzi said.  “I just go to help with the animals.” 

“The Medicine goes with you?” she asked, surprised.

“He has the respect of the Turtle Tribe, and they honor his trades.  He also speaks a little of their tongue.”

“Do you think he will tell any stories as you go?”

“I hope so.  It would seem a waste otherwise.”

“What do you trade?”

“Cacao, mostly,” Ahuatzi said.  “They are mad for it in the islands.  We also take the leftover chilis planted after last year’s rains.  We have a few metal tools, including a copper hatchet.”

Xochi whistled.  Copper tools were valuable indeed, worth many, many cacao.  “Who else goes with you?” she asked.

“Acahuatl says we shall have a few men from the Kinkajou tribe to go with us, for protection.”

“Kinkajou?  Why would they protect Butterflies?” 

“They are well paid, one xum for every lim’nah of the trade that we return to the village with.”  A lim’nah was the worth of seven xums, which meant the Kinkajou would make one seventh of the trade’s value without growing or gathering anything.

“I do not like Kinkajous, not after what they did to you,” she said.  “It is said they can go backwards as easily as they go forward.”

“They have never broken faith on a trade,” Ahuatzi said.  “They would only get to do so once.  Ruining us is one thing, but they do not wish to ruin themselves.”  But inside he agreed.  The idea of walking to and from the place of trade surrounded by Kinkajous was not pleasing.

Xochi paused for a while, scratching Kilca’s soft ears.  Then she asked, “May I go with you?”

“To the place of trade?”

“Did you intend to go anywhere else today?” Xochi asked.

“No.”

“Then obviously yes, I wish to go to the place of trade.”

Ahuatzi looked at her.  Several questions flooded in, the first being, “Why?”

“Why do you wish to go?”

“Ah,” Ahuatzi said.  “I suppose,” he said thoughtfully, “because it is different.  It will be interesting to see Turtles up close, to see what they bring, and to watch the trade.  I also wished to swim in the ocean for a while, maybe collect a token from the beach.”

“Fine reasons.  Need I have others?”

“It is different for girls,” Ahuatzi said.

“It is,” Xochi said.  “And that is another reason for me to go.”

“What of papa?” Ahuatzi asked.

“He has not said no,” Xochi said.

“You did not ask him.”

“No.  But that does not make what I say untrue,” she said with a smile.

“Xochi!”  Ahuatzi threw up his hands.  Nopaltzín and Xichán would be back on the lake, gathering reeds for mats.  There would be no time to go and ask.  “What of Acahuatl?” Ahuatzi asked.

“If he says yes, you will agree?”

“I suppose he would not say yes if it were dangerous,” Ahuatzi allowed. 

“And we will be back long before dark,” Xochi added, pressing her advantage.   “Give over, little brother!  You will surely go again.  For me, this may be my only chance to see it!”

“Unless you marry a Turtle,” Ahuatzi observed.

“I hear they are quite handsome,” Xochi said.

“I hear they are the ones who spread that tale.”  They both laughed.  “Very well, if Acahuatl agrees I agree.  Ay, Xochi, but I cannot deny you anything!”

“And that is why I did not ask papa or Xichán,” Xochi said with a sweet smile.  She kissed his forehead.  “I am grateful, little brother.”

“Grateful?”

Ahuatzi and Xochi started.  They had not noticed Acahuatl approaching even as they spoke.

“Very suspicious, gratitude,” the old Medicine said.  “No one is grateful when they are given what is theirs by rights!”

“My sister wishes to go with us, Medicine,” Ahuatzi said.

“Why would she be grateful?  Do you plan to carry her?”

“No, but-” Ahuatzi caught the Medicine’s eye, and could see the humor there.

“Honored Medicine,” Xochi said, bowing her head.  “I would wish to come to with you.  It would mean much to me.”  She looked up and smiled hopefully at the old medicine. 

His weathered features softened, and he smiled back, a mirroring gesture.  He stretched out a thin arm and gave her an affectionate pat on the head.

“No,” Acahuatl said.

Xochi looked as if she had been fed an uncooked frog. 

“Let us depart.  I do not intend to run, nor do I intend to be late,” Acahuatl said, gesturing to Ahuatzi.  Ahuatzi looked at Xochi, who was still standing and mouthing silent words.  His heart went out to her, but inside he wondered if it was not for the best.  He gently led Kilca away after the old Medicine.