Waddesdon Voice Article – He who fed the gods with his own heart

He who fed the gods with his own heart

18th Toxcatl 1425 – a year before the day

 

Admiring the tree topped peaks in the distance I reminisced about the memories I used to have as a child there. My thoughts ran riot through my head. Scaling trees with friends, collecting oddly shaped rocks, hunting whatever we could find. While my thoughts seemed to get clearer second by second, I was suddenly disturbed by a shout that sounded almost inhuman. My body left the ground as that warning sound never meant anything good. War. Silence engulfed the room.

 

My heartbeat was racing like the jaguar that we killed yesterday. As I moved my body around timidly, I saw the most terrifying sight. Mother. Hair held up by sticks and leaves, with a soft but threatening stare, she towered over everything making everyone she meets shrink in fear. Again, she yelled. And again. I was too stunned. She never left the house unless we were under attack. Finally, she walked over and shouted again, “Nezahualcoyotl , come here right now or you’re not going out for the next month.” Uneasiness flooded my body like the creak in winter. I followed and followed, an odd feeling started rising in my chest, the longer and further we walked.

 

Finally, we entered a place that I thought I would never go in again. Glimmering in the sunlight, the temple was the centre of our village, a home, a funeral, a belief. With 100 bare stone steps that reflected like diamonds in the sunlight, it was the prized possession of every community. Here sacrifices happen. Here death hides. Here my best friend died three years ago. Unsure of where to go next, I was led to a room that was unseen by any but the chosen. Bare, empty, nothing; that’s what was in there, other than a small table in the middle of the room. A mere 10 cm high. Shocked, I had never seen a table like this before it was ornate and hand carved and was surrounded but cushions with the most luxurious cloth.

 

Surrounding the table were faces I knew too well. My family. Unexpectedly, there was also Tonatiuh the leader of our village. He was the one who chose to kill my best friend. I froze. He froze; they all froze. I knew the second I saw his wretched little face that I would be meeting my best friend forever. Tonatiuh started, he broke the silence. He spoke in a weird tone, almost condescending like he didn’t know that I know. With the smuggest smirk he smiled and spoke, “You know how this goes. Your family have signed you up to be our next tribute to Ixiptla. You’re a perfectly fit young man who has the most beautiful looks that will stop anyone in their tracks. You will stun the gods and give us more luck.” I was appalled. My own family. How could they do this to me? How?

 

After an awkward silence Mother finally spoke up, “I hope it’s alright with you?” she whispered, “It’s for the best.” I knew what this meant but I couldn’t accept it. I was going to die. Yet there was no backing up now. Silence, the tension was like ropes holding on by a thread. Life or death. Life or death. Life or death. I either die by sacrifice and keep my family happy or say no and get exiled from the village and then die swiftly in the forest. With my heartbeat increasing, my forehead sweating, my legs starting to feel weak I shook and whispered, “Yes I will do it for all of us.” So, the nightmare began.

 

18th Teotlecl 1425 – six months before the day

 

It’s been half a year now and it has officially been the worst decision of my life. After I agreed. life changed. Lessons started immediately, daily I was forced to practice the flute until I physically couldn’t play. It also got to the point where life became unbearable, and I just wanted to see my friend again. Keeping the sacred tradition alive, I must go out to perform on the flute in the market where the street sellers haggle and the new traders come in on horseback. Nobles stop and stare with praise in their eyes and commoners who never speak finally use their voices in appreciation of my sacrifice. Peace. Paradise. Perfection.

 

Softly, the clay flute moulded to my fingers, playing with timed precision allowing the melody to mix with the wind and bring joy to everyone who could hear my music, finally uniting everyone in the harmony. The market felt different; peaceful and relaxing, calming and cool. Until I snapped back to reality and noticed my ridiculously heavy clothes. Dragging me to the floor, the mesh cotton was unimaginably loose and bulky, decorated with a cotton trim and thousands of gold shells and bells which made the burden a hundred times worse.

 

I felt rigid, my movements rehearsed and planned while my brain wanted to be free and live. To see the sunrise and sunset for the rest of my long life. Flowers that were held onto my outfit released a sweet aroma that followed me everywhere I went releasing sweeter smells the happier I was. With the fragrance wrapping round houses corners and into people’s homes, one by one people started to appear poking their heads around to see the source of the fragrance. Joy spread across my servants’ faces after a day of work they finally get to be free. As the end of day approached and the darkness began to engulf the land once again, I eventually returned home. Following the same old dusty path I always have and entering the exact same door I always feel that sense of being home.

 

Mother was always the nosiest. She was constantly reminding me about the honour of dying for our community, but it was never like that. All I thought was the feeling of water rippling against my skin again and the sky smiling back at me every night when life holds still for just a few seconds. When the moon meets the stars and speaks and when you finally realise life will never stop it will just carry on going on no matter what happens. Acceptance. Fear. Betrayal. I had finally accepted that death was imminent and that I was not going to make it to the next year, but I knew that I could make the most of the days I have remaining and finally understand the feeling of living in a moment of complete stillness.

 

 

 

Huey Tozoztli 1426 – Twenty days before the day

Twenty more days. Twenty more days of life. Twenty more days of finally realising what I’ve lost. Today is exactly twenty days till I die. Today I am given four women who they call wives but are also victims of the same thing I am. For the second time I walk up to the palace, regretting all the bad things of my life, the people I should have spoken to and didn’t; the people I should have stayed silent with, but insulted.

 

Still glimmering, still beautiful, the temple stands mighty over the forest canopy. This time I enter a more royal room that is lined with guards around the edges and at the front, the selected set of women are presented before me. With every tender step I took I accepted my life. There they were standing so close but so far. I instantly locked eyes with Xochitl. Xochitl had the most breath catching eyes that shone like stars in the night sky and that gave you a giddy feeling like you were a child. Impressed I was already. Until I moved on. Citali had the most luxurious hair that swayed in the wind like leaves in the trees and could instantly catch your attention. Next, Erindira’s warmth drew me closer. Erindira had the kindest smile, her face a pure work of art that soothed my nerves instantly. Then Yaretzi just blew me away she was just so beautiful everything about her made my life brighten up and my day to get instantly better. Unfortunately, they all had one thing in common: they were forced to be here.

 

Flabbergasted, I wondered to myself how lucky am I to have these people with me. Then I remembered. The sacrifice. The death. My best friend. Everything. Life just froze, my heartbeat raced, my brain flooded, my excitement grew. Yet I could never forget. After being ushered out the room, I stopped outside the temple pondering about it’s true greatness before it becomes my deathbed.

 

18th Toxcatl 1426 – The day

 

With much sorrow and regret I woke up on this day, blurry eyed and tear filled I was hoping this day wouldn’t come but it did. It had to one day. Devastated, I walked into our kitchen for the last time, said good morning for the last time, saw the sun rise for the last time. I tried to enjoy every bit of it. 1 pm, that’s when the ceremony started. I was informed of this the other day and drilled it into my head. Most of my morning was spent apologising to friends and family for all that I have done and what havoc I have caused, where everyone was about to break down with shaking legs and runny noses. From nine am to 11 am was spent paying my last respects to Tenoch while I was alive and crying to him about how much I missed him and how I would be meeting him soon. Hours passed by which I didn’t notice go as the minutes ticked down quickly, I came to peace with myself. Doing the things I loved. Then it was one hour till the ceremony started. The end was near.

 

The temple was being prepared and cleaned ready for me. Slipping through the back door, I was led to my changing room by a guard who showed me where my sacrificial clothing was hanging and where I was meant to start the ceremony. Looking down at the black, obsidian mirror I wondered why do I look like this? Am I really this worthy? Do I deserve this? So much time was wasted to where I had to go, I was late. Internal panic exploded in me like meteors. Walking with a lot of burden, I went out. Clay flutes in my hand and my breath ready to make my last sound. Cheering and screaming, people were excited for today’s sacrifice as it was the first one in ages. There the steps were and I went for it.

 

Step one: I started whistling the tune I had practised millions of times before and I broke flute number one. Then again for number two but this time it was different everyone was silent the heavy burden weighed heavily on my shoulders while I took another step. And again. And again. Minutes or hours I don’t know everything seemed to blur together into one thing all I remember was my friend’s death over and over again. Over and over and over. Priest Itzcoatl was at the top holding the blade that would be the end of my life in his hand. My four wives were waiting up there as well waiting for my arrival. I don’t know how I did it but after one hundred stairs, I reached the top. Looking down I saw the sheer monstrosity of the crowd and how much they needed this sacrifice for a good crop year. So, I did what I was told. The cold stone froze my back as I lay back the clay still on the ground. The priest raised the blade and with everyone watching my family, the leader, strangers, my wives, even my best friend I felt a sharp wound stab my chest. It felt wrong somehow with blood seeping in and my consciousness fading I knew that I would be seeing him soon.

 

It was the end. The end of life. The end of a great year. Life was too short for me, but I died so someone else can live. Over the past year I have finally accepted my death as instead of a tragedy, a great luck so someone else doesn’t have to endure the pain I did. All the emotions, the wishes, the betrayals, the tears. It all comes to an end now. The end with a life where people live freely.

 

I’m coming Tenoch … I’m coming …