but who would interrupt a Revered Speaker in conference? Even if we are spotted from the palace, I doubt if anyone will come close enough to identify you. Besides, we have the sworn word of Lord Ahuitzotl there will be no retribution against us.”
Huactli was not as enthralled over this as the minister. “I do not trust him. The priests say he does not show the gods proper reverence.”
“He will keep his word.”
“Then I must believe you. Still, it is better if we were not seen. Even as Revered Speaker, he could not keep the justices from us if we were positively identified.”
“I tell you this opportunity is god-sent. They must surely approve and will protect us. We shall not get a chance like this for a long time if we fail to act on it.”
Huactli was agreed that they could ill afford to lose such an auspicious moment. Further delay posed dangers as it might present Tizoc with favorable circumstances in which he could redeem himself and regain the people’s good graces, and each day lost meant more trade losses for his merchants on the road. “Very well,” he determined, “I shall gather my partners and proceed to the garden with them. It will not take long.”
Cihuacoatl left the trading center shrugging off the last doubts that resurfaced to plague him. The time was beyond possessing any reservations about this scheme, he said to himself. The machinery had been set into motion and was now rolling ahead under its own inertia. Still, there was considerable tension in the minister as the moment drew near; he felt his heart pulsating in his jugulars when he entered the garden through its main portal. He saw Tizoc at its farthest extremity apparently engrossed with some of his flowery plants. The monarch stood by himself, and as Cihuacoatl approached him, he looked about and noticed that no-one else was in the vicinity—another indication for him that providence guided him to this climactic conclusion.
“You sent for me, Lord?” said Cihuacoatl on arriving.
“Ah yes,” Tizoc acknowledged, still absorbed in his flowers. “Look at this delicate plant here. Have you ever seen a more magnificent bloom?”
It was typical of him to seek an agreement from his visitors on things he admired, and for the minister, who cared little about plants, it amounted to a meaningless diversion. Had he exhibited as much interest in maintaining the realm as he did in his garden, Cihuacoatl conjectured, there would have been no necessity for this conspiracy.
“Indeed not, Lord,” Cihuacoatl said in a strained attempt at showing some fascination. “It has a brilliant luster.”
“Also a remarkably soft texture. I should send Nezahualpilli one of these lovelies.”
Cihuacoatl was too tense to share in the adoration, and Tizoc sensed his impatience. “I had forgotten,” he said, “you don’t have any enthusiasm for gardening—a pity; there are enormous pleasures to be derived from it. I summoned you so that we might discuss the Xiquipilco situation. It’s worsening and I think some sort of remedial action is in order. What’s your assessment?”
Cihuacoatl was by this time in such a state of strained agitation over his next anticipated move that he could not focus on anything said to him. He felt a weakness in his knees.
“What’s wrong?” Tizoc voiced his concern when he noticed the minister’s discomfort. “You are quite pale, and you sweat profusely. Are you ill?”
“I feel a dizziness. Do you have something to drink?”
“No, but let me call my servants.”
“No!” Cihuacoatl sharply reacted. “Perhaps if I rest for a moment, it will go away.”
“It’s no problem. I shall call them.”
“It’s not necessary!” the minister exclaimed, then wiped the perspiration from his brow.
He gave the signal. Huactli and three other associates, who had arrived only a short time ago, were concealed behind a thicket of bushes a few paces away when they saw it. They broke from their foilaged cover and, carrying a goblet and pitcher of water with them, proceeded for Tizoc and the minister. Tizoc saw them coming.
“Why are they here? I called no meeting.”
“They come at my request, Lord!”
Apprehension came over Tizoc who had never known his minister to take on this kind of prerogative without his consent. “What does this mean?” he said in his consternation.
“Your end!” Cihuacoatl grimly informed the startled monarch.
“What!”
“Do not yell out! Listen to all I tell you and obey my instructions. If you do not, Tlalalca, your sons, and your daughters will perish this day. Do you understand?”
Dazed, Tizoc stared unbelievingly at his minister whose words struck him with devastating impact. When at last he regained some composure, he was surrounded by the other conspirators.
“You must be mad!” Tizoc gasped.
“Mad you say? Oh no, Lord. Not at what I’m doing now, but perhaps I was mad when I appointed you to succeed your worthy brother Axayacatl. You have disgraced your office, and I have stood by to observe it happen, doing nothing, and all the while seeing our realm deteriorating under your spineless rule. Indeed I was mad, Lord—mad at not having sought this solution earlier!”
“I did not ask to be the Revered Speaker!” Tizoc angrily retaliated. He now grasped the severity of his situation and fully understood that the steps taken by the minister and his accomplices were irreversible. He was fighting for his life. “You apppointed me,” he raged on, “with no regard whether I wanted the title or not. Now you want me to bear the brunt of your erroneous judgment. The blame rests with you!”
“So does this remedy we now seek. We must put an end to you if we are to reverse the realm’s decay—the rot from within.”
Tizoc’s nervousness increased, and his knees were shaking so badly that his tilmantli could be seen quivering. His heart pounded at a frightening pace. “I knew I wasn’t meant to be Revered Speaker soon after having assumed those duties,” he whimpered now. “But how could I abdicate? The priests would never permit it—nor would you!”
“You could have refused the appointment. Surely you must have had some indications even then about your abilities to run a state.”
“How was I to know? I did not comprehend the demands of this office.”
Cihuacoatl was not impartial to Tizoc’s impassioned defense and for an instant even wished that he could somehow overturn the events which carried him to this point. He had certainly been most responsible for Tizoc being named Revered Speaker and now he doomed the young man over this misjudgment—not an easy thing to dismiss.
“It’s most unfortunate, Lord,” Cihuacoatl sympathized. “Perhaps you can take comfort in that we undertake this at the peril of offending the gods and may suffer greatly for it. Such is the distress you have driven us to.”
Tizoc understood. Somehow he had suspected that this was the only possible way it could have ended, and his lamentation was more over the dismal circumstances, including his own woeful inadequecy, which directed him to this fate than out of any resentment for his minister.
