Yeah here's a new TL. I told some members about it already, and where the original inspiration came from, even though the idea has taken on considerable more realism of course (and even in that case, DO NOT spoil it for those who don't know about that crazy dream! 
). Anyways, it is in a similar vein as Moiciba Guazabara, but this TL feels more plausible, and has been more fruitful in producing material, and even planning way ahead. I haven't decided if I want to abandon the other TL for this one, but we'll see. My mind is FAR from made up.
Also this not a reaction to the plethora of threads over the past few weeks discussing Mesoamerica or Native American TLs in general. Oddly enough, a few days after I started doing research specifically for this TL all those threads popped up. Y'all can chalk it up to coincidence or fate. I personally found it really weird. But that's it for my little into.
So, here we go...
Update # 0
Thus the dead were addressed,
when they died.
If it was a man, they spoke to him,
ivoked him as a divine being
in the name of the pheasant;
if it was a woman, in the name of an owl;
and they said to them:
“Awaken, already the sky is tinged with red,
already the dawn has come,
already the flame-colored pheasants are singing,
the fire-colored swallows,
already butterflies are on the wings.”
For this reason the ancient ones said,
He who has died, he becomes a god.
They said: “He became a god there,”
which means that he died.
(A poem from Teotihuacan, the birthplace of the gods)
The summer of 1524 Anno Domini.
The jungle stretched onward and onward, brimming with the calls of birds and the buzzing of insects, broken by the settlements of Indians and the mountains that crisscrossed this land christened Nicaragua, which stretched out across a length of the Pacific [1]. Its geography and inhabitants had only become recently known to Spain; and the soldiers of this kingdom, currently marching through it, were in fact hunting for the man who first explored this frontier.
Hernando de Soto, guiding his horse by foot through the thick foliage, removed his helm to wipe his lengthy brow of sweat once again. The leader of the small force was long use to these sweltering conditions, having spent a decade in the New World adding territory and souls to the dominion of his sovereign and one true Church. Though satisfying his most immediate patrón was his primary concern. The adelantado of Castilla de Oro [2], Pedrairias Davila, had dispatched his soldiers to ensure Nicaragua would fall under his rule and not the upstart Gil Gonzalez Davila.
Greedy fool, Hernando thought of his prey. Gonzalez was originally sponsored by Castilla de Oro’s lord, but refused to give proper due, keeping the wealth for himself, in addition to plans of setting up his own governance over the rich cities he claimed to have discovered; though when he landed with the hueste sent to establish settlement, the Castilians had indeed encountered large towns with a level of sophistication that far surpassed the primitives around the isthmus he was use to dealing with, they had yet to witness anything approaching a true metropolis. As for the rogue himself, he was spotted with his own expedition, creeping in from the Fonduran coast [3], landing there after he fled to Hispaniola to escape the adelantado. The task to capture him or at the very least drive him off was handed to Hernando.
Descending into a gully, the sound of a snapping twig brought the entire column to a halt. Their guide, a local Maribios Indian, protected in a breastplate of hardened cotton, was quick to point out its source, coming from their flank. This exposure was followed by a Castilian shout of, “Attack!”
Hernando’s men were already weary from the twig, and formed up before the command even left his lips, awaiting with sharpened steel for the charge of Gonzalez’s men. An exchange of crossbow bolts felled a few on each side, one of which lodged itself into Hernando’s buckler. Fortunately for his force, they were given enough time for the few arquebuses they had to explode forth their round shot in a cloud of black powder, alongside a second volley from the crossbowmen before it descended into a bloody melee. After hacking down several of his opponents with his fine Toledo-forged blade, the battle was done, and he stood victorious as the survivors of the assault retreated off into the jungle.
He approached a captive, who looked quite pained from a blow to the shoulder by the Indian’s flint-tipped macana [4], which despite not piercing his vest of jack plate, left his protection quite torn and dented. After waiting until the kneeling man was fully bound, Hernando asked him, “Did your captain tell you these lands already belonged to Adelantado Davila?” The dazed prisoner didn’t respond, prompting him to put more force in his words, “Listen you fool, you will tell me everything! Where your camp is. How many men are amongst your ranks. Everything. Am I clear?”
He replied with a pained smirk, adding, “My captain is over there.”
Glancing toward where the man nodded, lied a body collapsed upon the hill. Stepping over to the corpse, whose throat was pierced by a crossbow bolt, he indeed recognized Gonzalez. My task is finished, and upon that thought he gave orders to gather up the prisoners and bodies, and send out search parties to track down any stranglers. For the later, he doubted they would pose any more of threat with their leader dead, but wanted to ensure the thought to regroup wouldn’t cross a single survivor’s mind. More than likely a number would turn up seeking employment under his patrón in the coming weeks and months while they harvested Nicaragua’s riches.
As the captive who pointed out Gonzalez was raised to his feet, Hernando overheard him mumble a complaint toward, “That damn butterfly,” and something about it flying in his face and causing him to step on that twig [5]. Hearing this, he couldn’t help but offer a half-amused prayer to God, thanking Him for the small miracle.
May of 1525 Anno Domini.
Cristóbal de Olid, dressed in full armor, rode his horse through the bloody battlefield. The bodies of both Castilians and Indians were strewn about the muddy grounds near a great river that flowed through the wilds of Guaymuras, swollen with the constant rains of the season [6]. The heavens cried even then, washing the blood from his arms. He and his escort came to a halt before a line of corpses that were pulled from the gore and muck for his inspection. The scruffy faced thirty-seven year old self-declared adelantado of Guaymuras and Fondura slid off his mount to get a closer inspection at all the men he recognized. All the men he knew in life.
There was the ever loyal Bernal Díaz del Castillo, who had just entered his thirties, and this fact, along with much of his other distinguishing features was barely recognizable after having half his face sheered off by the razor sharp obsidian blades of the natives’ macanas; his helmet was possibly the only reason the man’s head wasn’t completely severed, knowing personally the deadliness of the weapon when an old mount of his was decapitated by one. Next to him was the Cacique of Tetzcoco [7], one of the principal cities that made up the defeated empire of the Mexicans [8], Coanacoch; though he had taken a proper Christian name for himself after his baptism, adopting that arrogant and bloodthirsty carnuzo Pedro de Alvarado’s. And as the Indians adapt our names, they give us theirs, remembering how the natives dubbed Alvarado ‘Red Sun’ in their language, after their heathen Sun god or something to that effect. The Indian ruler looked to have fallen from his horse and snapped his neck, which wasn’t a surprise given the animal was foreign to the known parts of the New World; and considering he called himself after the cur that had dared to accuse him of cowardice, Cristóbal was quite pleased to see him gone. The final body was of Hernán Cortés himself. The adelantado of New Spain’s death was reported to him as the last embers of conflict burnt out, said to have come about during the cavalry charge led by Cristóbal himself; the man he had followed to conquer Tenochtitlan and the lands beyond, in spite of the insane odds and near defeats at times, was clearly run through by a lance, whose broken shaft was lodged into his chest.
“By the blessed Virgin, that’s my little cousin,” the middle aged Francesco Pizarro declared from atop his ride, glumly stroking his lengthy beard while eying the adelantado. He had been sent north by the ruler of Castilla de Oro to lead the small detachment he could spare, fulfilling his part of the alliance brokered by Cristóbal’s backer, the adelantado of Cuba and bitter rival of Cortés, Diego de Velázquez.
“It would make sense you’d murder your own kin, supporting this Aragonese cabron!” The captured Gonzalo de Sandoval insulted the fact he was born not a Castilian, but of the lands possessed by the other kingdom that constituted Spain. “You’re all honorless marranos,” he spat more venom, slurring them with the term for the cowardly Jews who took up Christ to save their own hides rather than their souls in the wake of the Reconquista [9]; and for that, he would also spit blood after Pizarro back handed the bound man from his horse. The fallen soldier was another comrade who fought side by side with him, Diaz, and Cortés against the Mexicans. Except in his case the fruits of the conquest had bloomed. His eyes were wet from more than the rain or even pain from the blow, brewing tears that were more a mixture of frustration, rage, and grief. Sandoval and Diaz had been particularly close.
The renegade captain thought back on how this so called treason had all began, landing in Cuba to resupply before going forth to bring the lands east of the Yucatan under New Spain’s control. Docked on the island that had been his home since a boy, he paid his respects to Adelantado Velázquez, the man who fostered him. His aging second-father vowed he would back him if he conquered the lands for himself, to declare a cabildo - forming a governing council of land owners whom reported directly to the crown - and claim Guaymuras and Fondura in the same manner as he had done in Cuba to spite Diego Colon’s rule over the Indies, and as Cortés had repeated against him for his own grand slice of Spain’s empire. Why not? I certainly earned it. Why should I not have my own glory and wealth? Was he rewarded with rich ecomiendas after the fall of the Mexicans; or after he had led the expedition to bring their northern rivals of the Tarascans to heel?
Cristóbal knew there would be violence if he took this course, but made a gamble that being so far from New Spain’s power center would ensure his former patrón couldn’t bring his full force to bare. This would be in addition to Velázquez’s influence over the Council of Indies and the royal court, who were already growing tired of Cortés’s audacity. When reprisals came in the form of Cortés’s cousin, Francisco de las Casas, repeating his voyage across the Sea of Antillas, he was ready to meet him in battle where he landed. Driving Las Casas to retreat back into the waters, a storm finished the job of smashing what remained of his fleet against the rocks [10]. Victory in hand, he wasted no time preparing for any further aggression by his former adelantado, aided by the giddy Velázquez’s success to ally Davila to their cause. His support was bought with recognizing Castilla de Oro’s claim over the newly explored Nicaragua and a vow to keep out any who would challenge these rights. The Emperor won’t care as long as his treasury is kept full. [11]
Giving the bodies one last look, letting himself feel his regret over the deaths of Cortés and Diaz, men he once considered brothers in arms, he reared his mount away and ordered his attendant to, “Have the bodies collected and make preparations for burial. All honors will be given to them, particularly the Adelantado.”
An overland offensive was not the further response Cristóbal expected. Apparently once Cortés heard of his cousin’s defeat, he summoned up the hueste the rogue captain had routed at the river. From what he heard before the battle, it was a grand host, including a train of servants and entertainers that would allow him to maintain the vanity of a court as they camped. Obviously, spending the better part of a year traveling through the wilderness of swamps, jungles, and mountains between Tenochtitlan and Guaymuras had seen them all perish, along with a good chunk of the soldiers. It was more than the assault he launched as they crossed the flooded banks that allowed Cristóbal’s triumph, but the fact his opponents were starved and utterly exhausted wretches, numbering only a few hundred. One could almost consider it a mercy to finish them off. Oh Hernán, you had such a brave heart, but it blinded you to all folly. At least he gave him an honorable death, which was the rain’s gift to him, preventing the use of their arquebuses and falconets.
“So who else came with you, Gonzalo?” Cristóbal asked Sandoval as he was aided back atop his horse. “I saw some of the Indians retreat back across the river. Hernán brought Tetzoco’s cacique. Who else?” The captive only answered with a searing glare. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s not as if they fight for us out of love, right? More than likely hunger will finish them off.”
What he spoke of the natives was true enough. For all the talk the priests made about making them loyal Christians - with those like Cortés’s interpreter and lover, Dona Marina, and his own Tlaxcalan wife serving as examples - the Indians were a conquered people whose freedom was still fresh in their hearts. They served out of fear. It was the same for the Tlaxcalan warriors who accompanied him to Guaymuras as it was for the Ch'orti people of Naco – the small city he made his capital, lying in the abundant valley neighboring the battlefield – who reinforced his hueste with their own fighters. As for the ones of Cortés’s expedition that escaped, they would either die in the wilds as he predicted or trouble someone else. He possessed no worry they would attempt to avenge the man who originally brought them low.
Cristóbal had more pressing concerns on his mind anyways. The foremost was to secure his position, which had become only stronger with Cortés gone off to face his final judgement. So he set off to make preparations for their return to Naco, where such plans could be made comfortably and word sent to his far off supporters of this unexpected victory.
Month of the Toxcatl, in the Seventh Year of the Calli.
The scout returned, deliberately coated in mud to camouflage his presence as he kept an eye on the rebellious army of Olid. Truthfully, the rest of the survivors weren’t much cleaner. After showing respect by performing the traditional tlalqualíztli – going down on one knee, and then touching a finger to the earth before placing it upon his lips – he reported, “Huetlatoani, the Caxtilteca are leaving. They are going away from us, moving east with the prisoners.”
Cuauhtemoc, the huetlatoani or Great Speaker of the Mexica and the Triple Alliance they once dominated, let loose a sigh of relief. “Did you see Malintzin amongst them?” He asked of Cortes, calling him by the same name given to that traitorous whore of his, Dona Marina, whom he always spoke through out of ignorance of Nahuatl. He wanted to know if the bastard still walked the tonacayotl, the spiritual fleshhood of the living lands, or had his tonaistli, his heart-fire, what the invaders called a soul, gone off to Heaven.
“I am sorry, Hernandoztlin,” the scout added the ztlin to his Christian name out of respect for his station, as much as that remained,” but I didn’t see him amongst the dead or the captives. I’m not sure.”
A sob that followed the report caused the huetlatoani to give a glance toward his prisoner, the actual Malintzin herself, bound and bleeding from when she was torn from her horse. She had been about to ride over the makeshift bridge they built to cross the river with the rest of the baggage train, when the rebels descended upon them. After her Tlaxcalteca bodyguard fled, she was immediately taken.
He scornfully looked upon the youthful traitor, who had been a tlacotin [12], a slave before the one she spoke through arrived and made Cuauhtemoc effectively a tlacotin to him. Swallowing his desire to kill her right there, he returned to his warrior, “Call me by my real name from now on, yaoquizqui.”
The scout was one of many yaoquizqueh who currently surrounded him; but quite a few were also simple servants to help with the supplies and other tasks, many of them women for there was too few of his people left after the plagues and war. A mixed group of maybe sixty Mexica, Acolhua, and Tepaneca – the three nations that had taken up the legacy of the mighty Toltecs and brought much of the known Cemanahuac, the Land between the Waters, under their rule. All had survived by the luck of not yet crossing the river or managing to reach the shore before the currents gripped them. Of the later, they numbered few given how shriveled they were from hunger and fatigue. The lord of the Tepaneca, Tetlepanquetzal, had sadly been one of those too weak to make the swim. Cuauhtemoc had watched him get pulled away, and soon disappear beneath the surface, not possessing enough strength to keep himself afloat for more than a few heartbeats.
Once, such a death would have earned Tetlepanquetzal entry into Tlalocan, which was a paradise of endless spring, whose sweet waters gave rise to ceaseless groves of food. It was the first layer of the Upperworld, domain of the concentration of Teotl - the divine force of the universe, the breath of the two-faced creator, Ometeotl - that shaped itself as the Precider over Water and Holder of the Four Directions, Tlaloc, who took in those who died of drowning and storms. Caxtilteca’s priests claimed there were only two destinations for the tonaistli, no matter the manner of one’s demise, either the utopia of Heaven where good Christians went to live in the light of the creator or the roasting fires of Hell where the unbelievers and sinful were condemned.
Such devastating changes were a constant reminder to how far the Mexica had fallen. It had been nearly six turnings of the Tonalpohualli, the sacred Day-Count [13], since the heart of the waters and earth, Tenochtitlan, had been uprooted and his people made to submit to the invaders’ Emperador and Papa across the waves of the Eastern Sea. Yet because of the ruin the Caxtilteca unleashed, he couldn’t tell accurately any longer. The honoring of the Tonalpohualli and the great ceremonies marked upon its wheel to give strength to the divinities of the Teotl, so the world would continue, had been banned and replaced with their seven day weeks that ended with a mass to praise Dios – their name for the sustainer of the Teotl, or the espiritu as they named the cosmic mystery. Their priests said Dios needed no offerings of blood and tonaistli to feast off, only prayers of gratitude for making humanity and all of creation. Everything else were lies of the Diablo, the Lord of Sin, and needed to be purged, ranging from the shattering of any imagery and temples that honored the entities of the Teotl, to the burning of their records and teachings, along with any woman, man, or child who dared to keep to them. The ‘Indians’ as they named all the inhabitants of Cemanahuac, which was also retitled as ‘New Spain’, needed to be further punished for their generations of idolatry by working as something worse than tlacotin, for Cuauhtemoc had never known those who paid off their debts and crimes through labor to be treated so lowly, to be beaten and raped at a whim. It was atrocious.
Ayya, what can I do? They already defeated me…and let him live to rule over the Mexica who survived the fall of Tenochtitlan. Just as long as he recognized Spain’s dominance and agreed to be baptized in their faith. It was beyond surreal to be brought so low, to have everything turned upside down. He swore they must have failed to nourish the Teotl, and this was the punishment, and if they’re right about the endless torments of Hell than this must be it.
Except little did he know the days that he would become even more intimate with that Caxtilteca concept lied ahead. At the beginning of the Dry Season, near the time of the ceremonies once offered to the Lady of the Dead, Mictecacihuatl, which were celebrated as Hallowmas by the invaders, Malintzin ordered him to summon up his remaining yaoquizqueh. They were to aid in putting down a rebellion of his own warriors, pooling together into a great army with those of Tetlepanquetzal and Coanacoch, and the cursed warriors of the Tlaxcalteca who guaranteed Malintzin’s triumph. They set out down the ancient southern trade routes to what was politely called the Tililan-Tlapalan, the ‘Lands of Red and Black’ [14], but more commonly known as Nonoucalcat – the ‘Land of the Dumb’, for the Mayatlahtolli inhabitants did not speak Nahuatl. Cuauhtemoc had long been entertained by stories of the fierce feuding kingdoms of the region, told to him by the Triple Alliance’s mercantile Pochteca, who returned from their trade expeditions with the Mayatlahtolli’s fine goods. Yet none of those tales prepared him for the arduous journey through the thick jungles and swamps that reigned supreme between their settlements. As a result the casualties mounted, mirroring the growing paranoia and frustration of Malintzin. It would explode into murderous intent once they finally reached a brief sanctuary from the wilds in the capital of the Mayatlahtolli domain of Acalan. There he accused the three Speakers of plotting to assassinate him so they could seize control of the army and raise a rebellion; in fact, all three had suspected the tyrant had ordered them to accompany the excursion in the first place to prevent such a revolt during his absence. Ayya, how I wished I could have, back home or here; but none of us had any plans to kill him. We just wanted to turn back.
They were only saved when one of his principal warriors, Diaz, raised his voice in defense of them. Cuauhtemoc still only knew fragments of their tongue, and made out, “Hernán, stop this madness…Blessed Virgin…no proof…We need them with Davila and Velázquez …!” Despite him being just as ruthless as the other pale men, the Mexica ruler found he could grudgingly respect Diaz; not as treacherous or cruel as his master or Malintzin’s pet, Red Sun. [15]
The journey onward only grew worse, especially as the rains of the Wet Season engulfed them. And as the Moon, Metzli, turned and turned, more lives were spent plodding through the drowned and seemingly endless terrain. Cuauhtemoc figured it wouldn’t be long before death claimed him too, so shrunken by hunger; wondering if he mirrored how the divinities of the Teotl felt, famished for no sacrifices were sent to nourish them after so long, Maybe they are dead, just like my nation. So resentful and miserable by it all, witnessing several more thousand senseless deaths, he was sorely tempted to make Malintzin’s fears come true. However, he feared even thinking such thoughts, knowing spies buzzed about as thickly as the moyomeh that never ceased trying to drink his blood; even suspecting Coanacoch was ready to lie about a plot to ensure his own life. He almost welcomed the bloodbath that ended it, as the thunderous hooves of their mounts charged, followed by the rush of the warriors who only had their own two feet to carry them into battle, and he himself was knocked into the waters by his panicked yaoquizqueh in their retreat back across the bridge. It didn’t matter to him either if his tonaitsli went to the Caxtilteca’s Heaven or Hell, or onto Tlalocan, just desiring the torture of this march, the torture of his existence since the invaders stepped onto the shores of Cemanahuac to end. The huetlatoani only survived by the intervention of one of his men, a nearly shaven headed veteran Cuachic or ‘Shorn One’ named Tlanextic, who dragged him ashore before the raging currents yanked him away like they did with the Tepaneca’s Speaker. The Cuachic then rallied the survivors to push their crossing into the river before they were slaughtered like the rest of the army trapped on the opposite bank.
And this was how Cuauhtemoc ended up down river with the survivors, hiding amongst the trees. Though the haggard filth covered women and men hardly looked a threat to boys still undergoing military training at the old telpochcalli schools [16]. Still, two things occurred to him. The first was they had the scant remains of the baggage train, looting what they could carry; and the other, more important realization, We’re free…
“We still need to put as much distance between us and the Caxtilteca as possible,” he ordered with a bit of the gusto he felt at his epiphany. “So everyone on their feet and let’s move.”
Tlanextic asked him, “But Cuauhtemotzin, where are we to go? Even if we manage to cross this land again, they’ll certainly place the blame on you for this, and claim it as tlatlacolli against them and their Dios,” stating their conquerors would see it as a grave ‘sin’ or ‘insult’, a betrayal that would taint the Teotl, and of which only their blood could cleanse.
Ayya, he’s right. Where are we to go? We are too few and far to free our home. Maybe one of the Mayatlahtolli Speakers would take us in…We’re so weak they’d probably just makes us tlacotin. His thoughts also went to his family, to his wife Tecuichpo and their children. I can’t save them either…and they’ll probably take my place to suffer, grinding his teeth in outrage and despair.
Then his eye caught a break in the clouds, far to the south of their position, where he saw the briefest glimpse of the sun’s light squeeze through, the light of Tonatiuh. Thank you Mover of the Heart Soul for showing me how to climb back upon the tlalticpac, and witnessing that divine sight, he knew where to go, how to reach the ‘slippery summit of life’ again. “Tonatiuh has pointed the way. We’ll follow the river. I remember seeing on the maps, Cuauhtemallan is south of here,” naming the ‘Place of Many Trees’ [17], “and we can take shelter amongst the Mayatlahtolli there. The Caxtilteca are making war on them now, and they’ll surely welcome a mutual enemy, especially one that can convince the army fighting for the invaders to rebel.”
Those words put some fire in the eyes of the yaoquizqueh, prompting them to rise. Cuauhtemoc wasn’t sure they would live to see this aim, but even this slim hope sparked a desire to fight once again. It was that same burning will, matching the flames that engulfed Tenochtitlan in the final days of his people’s freedom, that kept him fighting even when his defenders’ ranks were mostly women and children battling the invaders and rebels street by street. It was the fire of Tonatiuh’s face of war, Huitzilopochtli, the protector of existence and patron of the Mexica, and the huetlatoani could feel it raging in his heart once again.
He turned to Malintzin as she was forced to her feet, “The only reason you still breath, Malinalli,” dropping the respectful ztlin for she deserved none, “is because it is my turn to speak through you to the Mayatlahtolli, tlacotin,” letting her know the obvious fact she had been returned to her former position. The declaration caused her shoulders to slump in defeat, bringing a slight grin to Cuauhtemoc’s face.
[1] Nicaragua started out as a term for the western highlands along the Pacific Ocean of this future nation. It was named after a powerful Native leader called Nicatlnauac, which was rendered Nicarao by the Spanish; and combined with their word for water, agua, after Lake Managua.
[2] This was the original name for the Spanish fiefdom stretching along what would become Panama, Costa Rica, and the northern coast of Colombia.
[3] This is in what becomes Honduras, and a possible origin of the country’s name. The common tale of why Honduras is named as such comes from the Spanish/Castilian word for ‘depths’ or honduras, because of the deep harbors found along its coast; but the story attributed to this doesn’t come from any of the primary documentation of the period and doesn’t appear until nearly a century after the initial Conquista either. On older maps, the Leonese word (another Iberian language) for ‘Anchorage’, Fondura, appears. Often the ‘F’ sound was dropped in Castilian, leaving it replaced with an ‘H’, which would lead to the name being spelled as ‘Honduras’. This is the most likely origin of how the story of it being named after ‘depths’ appeared, a simple coincidence. Also, Fondura/Honduras was originally applied to only the area around the Bay of Trujillo and the eastern half of the nation. The western half was called Higueras, which probably arose from the name of a Maya polity, Guaymuras or Guaimura. There are debates over all of this, but my own research has led me to these conclusions, which I’m going to use for TTL.
[4] Macana was originally the name for a wooden war club/sword used by the Caribbean’s Taino Natives. Like many words of their language, its definition was expanded, and in this case was applied to a similar weapon used throughout Mesoamerica that the Nahua speaking peoples called a macuahuitl. They were edged with shards of obsidian or flint, which were known to pierce right through the Spaniards’ plate armor, but would shatter in the process.
[5] Here is the POD. In OTL Gonzalez would successfully ambush DeSoto’s patrol, but they would manage to fight off the rogue conquistador. The two would come to a truce afterward, but Gonzalez tricked his opponent, later capturing him with reinforcements. Yet, he would release him for DeSoto’s superior had a much larger force in the area. Gonzalez would also hear of Cristóbal de Olid’s landing in Honduras, further motivating him to abandon Nicaragua to defend his claims there.
[6] This would be the Motagua River of Guatemala, located near the country’s border with Honduras.
[7] Cacique is another Taino term, used for the leaders of their villages and chiefdom throughout the Caribbean islands they controlled. The Spanish came to use it as a term for any indigenous leader. Its general application had the side effect of equalizing many of the Mesoamerican elite in colonial law. When applied to the Triple Alliance/Aztec Empire, which was actually more of a confederation and network of semi-autonomous tributaries than a centralized imperial state, this web of allegiances was rendered useless. All were gradually reduced to more and more localized control, leaving them squabbling for Spanish favor to hold onto their shrinking domains, and thus increasing assimilation into Mexico’s future mestizo culture.
[8] The modern use of 'Aztec' - defining the Mexica people, Nahua people in general, and the Triple Alliance itself - did not come into use until the 19th century. In Nahuatl, Aztecatl, existed as an umbrella term for several Nahua and non-Nahua speaking groups who originated in the semi-mythical land of Aztlan. During the Conquistia and after, Mexican (or more properly Mexicano) was used as a name for the inhabitants of the Triple Alliance. The modern nation of Mexico preferred this new use of 'Aztec' to differentiate themselves from the indigenous state.
[9] The Jews forced to convert in the wake of the Reconquista were often seen by many Christians to still be practicing their original faith in secret. There were of course many who did, but this sadly became the excuse for further persecution no matter their actual devotion. An example was outright legal definitions of Old and New Christians. New Christians were often excluded from holding offices and suffered the brunt of the Spanish Inquisition’s terror.
[10] In OTL, Olid had to divide his force to fend off Gonzales as well as De las Casas. He managed to capture both, but in De las Casas’s case it was through luck. Olid tried to challenge him by sea, and was defeated; the two former comrades decided to come to a truce, but a storm smashed his fleet that night. The survivors would turn over De las Casas to Olid to save themselves. There’s disputes on what happen next. Some accounts say a mutiny occurred and killed Olid or De las Casas escaped and did the deed, but in either case the rebellion ended. Due to the POD, Olid never had to split his men to fight Gonzalez and could bring his whole force to bare against De las Casas, leading to the further divergences of TTL.
[11] The reigning king of Spain, during this period, was also the Holy Roman Emperor.
[12] She was born Malinalli, to a family that lived on the frontier of the Triple Alliance and the Yucatan, and sold to the Chontal Maya there after her mother remarried in the wake of her father’s death; it is said her mother lied about her death, and claimed Malinalli was actually a slave of hers. When the Spaniards arrived and defeated the Chontal, she was amongst a dozen women handed over to them as servants, and baptized with the Christian name of Marina. From there she would rise to become Cortes’s interrupter and mistress, resulting in the ztlin being added to her name by the Tlaxcalans.
[13] The Day-Count of the Mexica Calendar measures 260 days, and is the second more religious aspect to their two cycled system (the other is an agricultural Lunar calendar for measuring a 365 day year). This is why it’s been about 6 cycles of the Day-Count, while it has been four years since the fall of the Triple Alliance.
[14] The name for Maya lands (Mayatlahtolli is the demonym for the Maya in Nahuatl) comes from their use of black ink with red highlights when writing their codices.
[15] More butterflies. In OTL’s equally disastrous expedition by Cortes to Honduras, when they arrived at the Chontal Maya city of Itzamkanac (Acalan is the Nahuatl name for the domain it controlled, and is located in what would become the Mexican state of Campeche), Cotes did accuses Cuauhtemoc and the other two Tlatoani/Speakers of the same plot. They would all be hung for treason. Diaz states in his personal accounts that there wasn’t a shred of proof, and the guilt haunted Cortes to the point of hurting himself. In TTL, Diaz spoke up for the native lords, due to the fact they’ve heard of Velázquez and Davila’s open support for Olid, and feared their deaths could bring about a mutiny given the graver situation they faced. Diaz is also on record for greatly respecting Cuauthemoc, adding more to his actions in TTL.
[16] The Triple Alliance had a compulsory education system for both genders, but there were institutional divisions over social classes. The telpochcalli were where the bulk of the commoners went to receive military training and basics on history, religion, and either agricultural or craft skills. The calmecac were the institutions attended by the nobility and the more intellectually gifted and/or politically connected commoners; advanced studies of religion, arts, and leadership took place, in addition to military skills.
[17] Guatemala was corrupted from this Nahuatl name, which in turn is taken from the K’iche Maya term, K’iche, also meaning ‘Place of Many Trees’.
). Anyways, it is in a similar vein as Moiciba Guazabara, but this TL feels more plausible, and has been more fruitful in producing material, and even planning way ahead. I haven't decided if I want to abandon the other TL for this one, but we'll see. My mind is FAR from made up. Also this not a reaction to the plethora of threads over the past few weeks discussing Mesoamerica or Native American TLs in general. Oddly enough, a few days after I started doing research specifically for this TL all those threads popped up. Y'all can chalk it up to coincidence or fate. I personally found it really weird. But that's it for my little into.
So, here we go...
Update # 0
Papalomeh
Thus the dead were addressed,
when they died.
If it was a man, they spoke to him,
ivoked him as a divine being
in the name of the pheasant;
if it was a woman, in the name of an owl;
and they said to them:
“Awaken, already the sky is tinged with red,
already the dawn has come,
already the flame-colored pheasants are singing,
the fire-colored swallows,
already butterflies are on the wings.”
For this reason the ancient ones said,
He who has died, he becomes a god.
They said: “He became a god there,”
which means that he died.
(A poem from Teotihuacan, the birthplace of the gods)
The summer of 1524 Anno Domini.
The jungle stretched onward and onward, brimming with the calls of birds and the buzzing of insects, broken by the settlements of Indians and the mountains that crisscrossed this land christened Nicaragua, which stretched out across a length of the Pacific [1]. Its geography and inhabitants had only become recently known to Spain; and the soldiers of this kingdom, currently marching through it, were in fact hunting for the man who first explored this frontier.
Hernando de Soto, guiding his horse by foot through the thick foliage, removed his helm to wipe his lengthy brow of sweat once again. The leader of the small force was long use to these sweltering conditions, having spent a decade in the New World adding territory and souls to the dominion of his sovereign and one true Church. Though satisfying his most immediate patrón was his primary concern. The adelantado of Castilla de Oro [2], Pedrairias Davila, had dispatched his soldiers to ensure Nicaragua would fall under his rule and not the upstart Gil Gonzalez Davila.
Greedy fool, Hernando thought of his prey. Gonzalez was originally sponsored by Castilla de Oro’s lord, but refused to give proper due, keeping the wealth for himself, in addition to plans of setting up his own governance over the rich cities he claimed to have discovered; though when he landed with the hueste sent to establish settlement, the Castilians had indeed encountered large towns with a level of sophistication that far surpassed the primitives around the isthmus he was use to dealing with, they had yet to witness anything approaching a true metropolis. As for the rogue himself, he was spotted with his own expedition, creeping in from the Fonduran coast [3], landing there after he fled to Hispaniola to escape the adelantado. The task to capture him or at the very least drive him off was handed to Hernando.
Descending into a gully, the sound of a snapping twig brought the entire column to a halt. Their guide, a local Maribios Indian, protected in a breastplate of hardened cotton, was quick to point out its source, coming from their flank. This exposure was followed by a Castilian shout of, “Attack!”
Hernando’s men were already weary from the twig, and formed up before the command even left his lips, awaiting with sharpened steel for the charge of Gonzalez’s men. An exchange of crossbow bolts felled a few on each side, one of which lodged itself into Hernando’s buckler. Fortunately for his force, they were given enough time for the few arquebuses they had to explode forth their round shot in a cloud of black powder, alongside a second volley from the crossbowmen before it descended into a bloody melee. After hacking down several of his opponents with his fine Toledo-forged blade, the battle was done, and he stood victorious as the survivors of the assault retreated off into the jungle.
He approached a captive, who looked quite pained from a blow to the shoulder by the Indian’s flint-tipped macana [4], which despite not piercing his vest of jack plate, left his protection quite torn and dented. After waiting until the kneeling man was fully bound, Hernando asked him, “Did your captain tell you these lands already belonged to Adelantado Davila?” The dazed prisoner didn’t respond, prompting him to put more force in his words, “Listen you fool, you will tell me everything! Where your camp is. How many men are amongst your ranks. Everything. Am I clear?”
He replied with a pained smirk, adding, “My captain is over there.”
Glancing toward where the man nodded, lied a body collapsed upon the hill. Stepping over to the corpse, whose throat was pierced by a crossbow bolt, he indeed recognized Gonzalez. My task is finished, and upon that thought he gave orders to gather up the prisoners and bodies, and send out search parties to track down any stranglers. For the later, he doubted they would pose any more of threat with their leader dead, but wanted to ensure the thought to regroup wouldn’t cross a single survivor’s mind. More than likely a number would turn up seeking employment under his patrón in the coming weeks and months while they harvested Nicaragua’s riches.
As the captive who pointed out Gonzalez was raised to his feet, Hernando overheard him mumble a complaint toward, “That damn butterfly,” and something about it flying in his face and causing him to step on that twig [5]. Hearing this, he couldn’t help but offer a half-amused prayer to God, thanking Him for the small miracle.
Cristóbal de Olid, dressed in full armor, rode his horse through the bloody battlefield. The bodies of both Castilians and Indians were strewn about the muddy grounds near a great river that flowed through the wilds of Guaymuras, swollen with the constant rains of the season [6]. The heavens cried even then, washing the blood from his arms. He and his escort came to a halt before a line of corpses that were pulled from the gore and muck for his inspection. The scruffy faced thirty-seven year old self-declared adelantado of Guaymuras and Fondura slid off his mount to get a closer inspection at all the men he recognized. All the men he knew in life.
There was the ever loyal Bernal Díaz del Castillo, who had just entered his thirties, and this fact, along with much of his other distinguishing features was barely recognizable after having half his face sheered off by the razor sharp obsidian blades of the natives’ macanas; his helmet was possibly the only reason the man’s head wasn’t completely severed, knowing personally the deadliness of the weapon when an old mount of his was decapitated by one. Next to him was the Cacique of Tetzcoco [7], one of the principal cities that made up the defeated empire of the Mexicans [8], Coanacoch; though he had taken a proper Christian name for himself after his baptism, adopting that arrogant and bloodthirsty carnuzo Pedro de Alvarado’s. And as the Indians adapt our names, they give us theirs, remembering how the natives dubbed Alvarado ‘Red Sun’ in their language, after their heathen Sun god or something to that effect. The Indian ruler looked to have fallen from his horse and snapped his neck, which wasn’t a surprise given the animal was foreign to the known parts of the New World; and considering he called himself after the cur that had dared to accuse him of cowardice, Cristóbal was quite pleased to see him gone. The final body was of Hernán Cortés himself. The adelantado of New Spain’s death was reported to him as the last embers of conflict burnt out, said to have come about during the cavalry charge led by Cristóbal himself; the man he had followed to conquer Tenochtitlan and the lands beyond, in spite of the insane odds and near defeats at times, was clearly run through by a lance, whose broken shaft was lodged into his chest.
“By the blessed Virgin, that’s my little cousin,” the middle aged Francesco Pizarro declared from atop his ride, glumly stroking his lengthy beard while eying the adelantado. He had been sent north by the ruler of Castilla de Oro to lead the small detachment he could spare, fulfilling his part of the alliance brokered by Cristóbal’s backer, the adelantado of Cuba and bitter rival of Cortés, Diego de Velázquez.
“It would make sense you’d murder your own kin, supporting this Aragonese cabron!” The captured Gonzalo de Sandoval insulted the fact he was born not a Castilian, but of the lands possessed by the other kingdom that constituted Spain. “You’re all honorless marranos,” he spat more venom, slurring them with the term for the cowardly Jews who took up Christ to save their own hides rather than their souls in the wake of the Reconquista [9]; and for that, he would also spit blood after Pizarro back handed the bound man from his horse. The fallen soldier was another comrade who fought side by side with him, Diaz, and Cortés against the Mexicans. Except in his case the fruits of the conquest had bloomed. His eyes were wet from more than the rain or even pain from the blow, brewing tears that were more a mixture of frustration, rage, and grief. Sandoval and Diaz had been particularly close.
The renegade captain thought back on how this so called treason had all began, landing in Cuba to resupply before going forth to bring the lands east of the Yucatan under New Spain’s control. Docked on the island that had been his home since a boy, he paid his respects to Adelantado Velázquez, the man who fostered him. His aging second-father vowed he would back him if he conquered the lands for himself, to declare a cabildo - forming a governing council of land owners whom reported directly to the crown - and claim Guaymuras and Fondura in the same manner as he had done in Cuba to spite Diego Colon’s rule over the Indies, and as Cortés had repeated against him for his own grand slice of Spain’s empire. Why not? I certainly earned it. Why should I not have my own glory and wealth? Was he rewarded with rich ecomiendas after the fall of the Mexicans; or after he had led the expedition to bring their northern rivals of the Tarascans to heel?
Cristóbal knew there would be violence if he took this course, but made a gamble that being so far from New Spain’s power center would ensure his former patrón couldn’t bring his full force to bare. This would be in addition to Velázquez’s influence over the Council of Indies and the royal court, who were already growing tired of Cortés’s audacity. When reprisals came in the form of Cortés’s cousin, Francisco de las Casas, repeating his voyage across the Sea of Antillas, he was ready to meet him in battle where he landed. Driving Las Casas to retreat back into the waters, a storm finished the job of smashing what remained of his fleet against the rocks [10]. Victory in hand, he wasted no time preparing for any further aggression by his former adelantado, aided by the giddy Velázquez’s success to ally Davila to their cause. His support was bought with recognizing Castilla de Oro’s claim over the newly explored Nicaragua and a vow to keep out any who would challenge these rights. The Emperor won’t care as long as his treasury is kept full. [11]
Giving the bodies one last look, letting himself feel his regret over the deaths of Cortés and Diaz, men he once considered brothers in arms, he reared his mount away and ordered his attendant to, “Have the bodies collected and make preparations for burial. All honors will be given to them, particularly the Adelantado.”
An overland offensive was not the further response Cristóbal expected. Apparently once Cortés heard of his cousin’s defeat, he summoned up the hueste the rogue captain had routed at the river. From what he heard before the battle, it was a grand host, including a train of servants and entertainers that would allow him to maintain the vanity of a court as they camped. Obviously, spending the better part of a year traveling through the wilderness of swamps, jungles, and mountains between Tenochtitlan and Guaymuras had seen them all perish, along with a good chunk of the soldiers. It was more than the assault he launched as they crossed the flooded banks that allowed Cristóbal’s triumph, but the fact his opponents were starved and utterly exhausted wretches, numbering only a few hundred. One could almost consider it a mercy to finish them off. Oh Hernán, you had such a brave heart, but it blinded you to all folly. At least he gave him an honorable death, which was the rain’s gift to him, preventing the use of their arquebuses and falconets.
“So who else came with you, Gonzalo?” Cristóbal asked Sandoval as he was aided back atop his horse. “I saw some of the Indians retreat back across the river. Hernán brought Tetzoco’s cacique. Who else?” The captive only answered with a searing glare. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s not as if they fight for us out of love, right? More than likely hunger will finish them off.”
What he spoke of the natives was true enough. For all the talk the priests made about making them loyal Christians - with those like Cortés’s interpreter and lover, Dona Marina, and his own Tlaxcalan wife serving as examples - the Indians were a conquered people whose freedom was still fresh in their hearts. They served out of fear. It was the same for the Tlaxcalan warriors who accompanied him to Guaymuras as it was for the Ch'orti people of Naco – the small city he made his capital, lying in the abundant valley neighboring the battlefield – who reinforced his hueste with their own fighters. As for the ones of Cortés’s expedition that escaped, they would either die in the wilds as he predicted or trouble someone else. He possessed no worry they would attempt to avenge the man who originally brought them low.
Cristóbal had more pressing concerns on his mind anyways. The foremost was to secure his position, which had become only stronger with Cortés gone off to face his final judgement. So he set off to make preparations for their return to Naco, where such plans could be made comfortably and word sent to his far off supporters of this unexpected victory.
The scout returned, deliberately coated in mud to camouflage his presence as he kept an eye on the rebellious army of Olid. Truthfully, the rest of the survivors weren’t much cleaner. After showing respect by performing the traditional tlalqualíztli – going down on one knee, and then touching a finger to the earth before placing it upon his lips – he reported, “Huetlatoani, the Caxtilteca are leaving. They are going away from us, moving east with the prisoners.”
Cuauhtemoc, the huetlatoani or Great Speaker of the Mexica and the Triple Alliance they once dominated, let loose a sigh of relief. “Did you see Malintzin amongst them?” He asked of Cortes, calling him by the same name given to that traitorous whore of his, Dona Marina, whom he always spoke through out of ignorance of Nahuatl. He wanted to know if the bastard still walked the tonacayotl, the spiritual fleshhood of the living lands, or had his tonaistli, his heart-fire, what the invaders called a soul, gone off to Heaven.
“I am sorry, Hernandoztlin,” the scout added the ztlin to his Christian name out of respect for his station, as much as that remained,” but I didn’t see him amongst the dead or the captives. I’m not sure.”
A sob that followed the report caused the huetlatoani to give a glance toward his prisoner, the actual Malintzin herself, bound and bleeding from when she was torn from her horse. She had been about to ride over the makeshift bridge they built to cross the river with the rest of the baggage train, when the rebels descended upon them. After her Tlaxcalteca bodyguard fled, she was immediately taken.
He scornfully looked upon the youthful traitor, who had been a tlacotin [12], a slave before the one she spoke through arrived and made Cuauhtemoc effectively a tlacotin to him. Swallowing his desire to kill her right there, he returned to his warrior, “Call me by my real name from now on, yaoquizqui.”
The scout was one of many yaoquizqueh who currently surrounded him; but quite a few were also simple servants to help with the supplies and other tasks, many of them women for there was too few of his people left after the plagues and war. A mixed group of maybe sixty Mexica, Acolhua, and Tepaneca – the three nations that had taken up the legacy of the mighty Toltecs and brought much of the known Cemanahuac, the Land between the Waters, under their rule. All had survived by the luck of not yet crossing the river or managing to reach the shore before the currents gripped them. Of the later, they numbered few given how shriveled they were from hunger and fatigue. The lord of the Tepaneca, Tetlepanquetzal, had sadly been one of those too weak to make the swim. Cuauhtemoc had watched him get pulled away, and soon disappear beneath the surface, not possessing enough strength to keep himself afloat for more than a few heartbeats.
Once, such a death would have earned Tetlepanquetzal entry into Tlalocan, which was a paradise of endless spring, whose sweet waters gave rise to ceaseless groves of food. It was the first layer of the Upperworld, domain of the concentration of Teotl - the divine force of the universe, the breath of the two-faced creator, Ometeotl - that shaped itself as the Precider over Water and Holder of the Four Directions, Tlaloc, who took in those who died of drowning and storms. Caxtilteca’s priests claimed there were only two destinations for the tonaistli, no matter the manner of one’s demise, either the utopia of Heaven where good Christians went to live in the light of the creator or the roasting fires of Hell where the unbelievers and sinful were condemned.
Such devastating changes were a constant reminder to how far the Mexica had fallen. It had been nearly six turnings of the Tonalpohualli, the sacred Day-Count [13], since the heart of the waters and earth, Tenochtitlan, had been uprooted and his people made to submit to the invaders’ Emperador and Papa across the waves of the Eastern Sea. Yet because of the ruin the Caxtilteca unleashed, he couldn’t tell accurately any longer. The honoring of the Tonalpohualli and the great ceremonies marked upon its wheel to give strength to the divinities of the Teotl, so the world would continue, had been banned and replaced with their seven day weeks that ended with a mass to praise Dios – their name for the sustainer of the Teotl, or the espiritu as they named the cosmic mystery. Their priests said Dios needed no offerings of blood and tonaistli to feast off, only prayers of gratitude for making humanity and all of creation. Everything else were lies of the Diablo, the Lord of Sin, and needed to be purged, ranging from the shattering of any imagery and temples that honored the entities of the Teotl, to the burning of their records and teachings, along with any woman, man, or child who dared to keep to them. The ‘Indians’ as they named all the inhabitants of Cemanahuac, which was also retitled as ‘New Spain’, needed to be further punished for their generations of idolatry by working as something worse than tlacotin, for Cuauhtemoc had never known those who paid off their debts and crimes through labor to be treated so lowly, to be beaten and raped at a whim. It was atrocious.
Ayya, what can I do? They already defeated me…and let him live to rule over the Mexica who survived the fall of Tenochtitlan. Just as long as he recognized Spain’s dominance and agreed to be baptized in their faith. It was beyond surreal to be brought so low, to have everything turned upside down. He swore they must have failed to nourish the Teotl, and this was the punishment, and if they’re right about the endless torments of Hell than this must be it.
Except little did he know the days that he would become even more intimate with that Caxtilteca concept lied ahead. At the beginning of the Dry Season, near the time of the ceremonies once offered to the Lady of the Dead, Mictecacihuatl, which were celebrated as Hallowmas by the invaders, Malintzin ordered him to summon up his remaining yaoquizqueh. They were to aid in putting down a rebellion of his own warriors, pooling together into a great army with those of Tetlepanquetzal and Coanacoch, and the cursed warriors of the Tlaxcalteca who guaranteed Malintzin’s triumph. They set out down the ancient southern trade routes to what was politely called the Tililan-Tlapalan, the ‘Lands of Red and Black’ [14], but more commonly known as Nonoucalcat – the ‘Land of the Dumb’, for the Mayatlahtolli inhabitants did not speak Nahuatl. Cuauhtemoc had long been entertained by stories of the fierce feuding kingdoms of the region, told to him by the Triple Alliance’s mercantile Pochteca, who returned from their trade expeditions with the Mayatlahtolli’s fine goods. Yet none of those tales prepared him for the arduous journey through the thick jungles and swamps that reigned supreme between their settlements. As a result the casualties mounted, mirroring the growing paranoia and frustration of Malintzin. It would explode into murderous intent once they finally reached a brief sanctuary from the wilds in the capital of the Mayatlahtolli domain of Acalan. There he accused the three Speakers of plotting to assassinate him so they could seize control of the army and raise a rebellion; in fact, all three had suspected the tyrant had ordered them to accompany the excursion in the first place to prevent such a revolt during his absence. Ayya, how I wished I could have, back home or here; but none of us had any plans to kill him. We just wanted to turn back.
They were only saved when one of his principal warriors, Diaz, raised his voice in defense of them. Cuauhtemoc still only knew fragments of their tongue, and made out, “Hernán, stop this madness…Blessed Virgin…no proof…We need them with Davila and Velázquez …!” Despite him being just as ruthless as the other pale men, the Mexica ruler found he could grudgingly respect Diaz; not as treacherous or cruel as his master or Malintzin’s pet, Red Sun. [15]
The journey onward only grew worse, especially as the rains of the Wet Season engulfed them. And as the Moon, Metzli, turned and turned, more lives were spent plodding through the drowned and seemingly endless terrain. Cuauhtemoc figured it wouldn’t be long before death claimed him too, so shrunken by hunger; wondering if he mirrored how the divinities of the Teotl felt, famished for no sacrifices were sent to nourish them after so long, Maybe they are dead, just like my nation. So resentful and miserable by it all, witnessing several more thousand senseless deaths, he was sorely tempted to make Malintzin’s fears come true. However, he feared even thinking such thoughts, knowing spies buzzed about as thickly as the moyomeh that never ceased trying to drink his blood; even suspecting Coanacoch was ready to lie about a plot to ensure his own life. He almost welcomed the bloodbath that ended it, as the thunderous hooves of their mounts charged, followed by the rush of the warriors who only had their own two feet to carry them into battle, and he himself was knocked into the waters by his panicked yaoquizqueh in their retreat back across the bridge. It didn’t matter to him either if his tonaitsli went to the Caxtilteca’s Heaven or Hell, or onto Tlalocan, just desiring the torture of this march, the torture of his existence since the invaders stepped onto the shores of Cemanahuac to end. The huetlatoani only survived by the intervention of one of his men, a nearly shaven headed veteran Cuachic or ‘Shorn One’ named Tlanextic, who dragged him ashore before the raging currents yanked him away like they did with the Tepaneca’s Speaker. The Cuachic then rallied the survivors to push their crossing into the river before they were slaughtered like the rest of the army trapped on the opposite bank.
And this was how Cuauhtemoc ended up down river with the survivors, hiding amongst the trees. Though the haggard filth covered women and men hardly looked a threat to boys still undergoing military training at the old telpochcalli schools [16]. Still, two things occurred to him. The first was they had the scant remains of the baggage train, looting what they could carry; and the other, more important realization, We’re free…
“We still need to put as much distance between us and the Caxtilteca as possible,” he ordered with a bit of the gusto he felt at his epiphany. “So everyone on their feet and let’s move.”
Tlanextic asked him, “But Cuauhtemotzin, where are we to go? Even if we manage to cross this land again, they’ll certainly place the blame on you for this, and claim it as tlatlacolli against them and their Dios,” stating their conquerors would see it as a grave ‘sin’ or ‘insult’, a betrayal that would taint the Teotl, and of which only their blood could cleanse.
Ayya, he’s right. Where are we to go? We are too few and far to free our home. Maybe one of the Mayatlahtolli Speakers would take us in…We’re so weak they’d probably just makes us tlacotin. His thoughts also went to his family, to his wife Tecuichpo and their children. I can’t save them either…and they’ll probably take my place to suffer, grinding his teeth in outrage and despair.
Then his eye caught a break in the clouds, far to the south of their position, where he saw the briefest glimpse of the sun’s light squeeze through, the light of Tonatiuh. Thank you Mover of the Heart Soul for showing me how to climb back upon the tlalticpac, and witnessing that divine sight, he knew where to go, how to reach the ‘slippery summit of life’ again. “Tonatiuh has pointed the way. We’ll follow the river. I remember seeing on the maps, Cuauhtemallan is south of here,” naming the ‘Place of Many Trees’ [17], “and we can take shelter amongst the Mayatlahtolli there. The Caxtilteca are making war on them now, and they’ll surely welcome a mutual enemy, especially one that can convince the army fighting for the invaders to rebel.”
Those words put some fire in the eyes of the yaoquizqueh, prompting them to rise. Cuauhtemoc wasn’t sure they would live to see this aim, but even this slim hope sparked a desire to fight once again. It was that same burning will, matching the flames that engulfed Tenochtitlan in the final days of his people’s freedom, that kept him fighting even when his defenders’ ranks were mostly women and children battling the invaders and rebels street by street. It was the fire of Tonatiuh’s face of war, Huitzilopochtli, the protector of existence and patron of the Mexica, and the huetlatoani could feel it raging in his heart once again.
He turned to Malintzin as she was forced to her feet, “The only reason you still breath, Malinalli,” dropping the respectful ztlin for she deserved none, “is because it is my turn to speak through you to the Mayatlahtolli, tlacotin,” letting her know the obvious fact she had been returned to her former position. The declaration caused her shoulders to slump in defeat, bringing a slight grin to Cuauhtemoc’s face.
}*{
[2] This was the original name for the Spanish fiefdom stretching along what would become Panama, Costa Rica, and the northern coast of Colombia.
[3] This is in what becomes Honduras, and a possible origin of the country’s name. The common tale of why Honduras is named as such comes from the Spanish/Castilian word for ‘depths’ or honduras, because of the deep harbors found along its coast; but the story attributed to this doesn’t come from any of the primary documentation of the period and doesn’t appear until nearly a century after the initial Conquista either. On older maps, the Leonese word (another Iberian language) for ‘Anchorage’, Fondura, appears. Often the ‘F’ sound was dropped in Castilian, leaving it replaced with an ‘H’, which would lead to the name being spelled as ‘Honduras’. This is the most likely origin of how the story of it being named after ‘depths’ appeared, a simple coincidence. Also, Fondura/Honduras was originally applied to only the area around the Bay of Trujillo and the eastern half of the nation. The western half was called Higueras, which probably arose from the name of a Maya polity, Guaymuras or Guaimura. There are debates over all of this, but my own research has led me to these conclusions, which I’m going to use for TTL.
[4] Macana was originally the name for a wooden war club/sword used by the Caribbean’s Taino Natives. Like many words of their language, its definition was expanded, and in this case was applied to a similar weapon used throughout Mesoamerica that the Nahua speaking peoples called a macuahuitl. They were edged with shards of obsidian or flint, which were known to pierce right through the Spaniards’ plate armor, but would shatter in the process.
[5] Here is the POD. In OTL Gonzalez would successfully ambush DeSoto’s patrol, but they would manage to fight off the rogue conquistador. The two would come to a truce afterward, but Gonzalez tricked his opponent, later capturing him with reinforcements. Yet, he would release him for DeSoto’s superior had a much larger force in the area. Gonzalez would also hear of Cristóbal de Olid’s landing in Honduras, further motivating him to abandon Nicaragua to defend his claims there.
[6] This would be the Motagua River of Guatemala, located near the country’s border with Honduras.
[7] Cacique is another Taino term, used for the leaders of their villages and chiefdom throughout the Caribbean islands they controlled. The Spanish came to use it as a term for any indigenous leader. Its general application had the side effect of equalizing many of the Mesoamerican elite in colonial law. When applied to the Triple Alliance/Aztec Empire, which was actually more of a confederation and network of semi-autonomous tributaries than a centralized imperial state, this web of allegiances was rendered useless. All were gradually reduced to more and more localized control, leaving them squabbling for Spanish favor to hold onto their shrinking domains, and thus increasing assimilation into Mexico’s future mestizo culture.
[8] The modern use of 'Aztec' - defining the Mexica people, Nahua people in general, and the Triple Alliance itself - did not come into use until the 19th century. In Nahuatl, Aztecatl, existed as an umbrella term for several Nahua and non-Nahua speaking groups who originated in the semi-mythical land of Aztlan. During the Conquistia and after, Mexican (or more properly Mexicano) was used as a name for the inhabitants of the Triple Alliance. The modern nation of Mexico preferred this new use of 'Aztec' to differentiate themselves from the indigenous state.
[9] The Jews forced to convert in the wake of the Reconquista were often seen by many Christians to still be practicing their original faith in secret. There were of course many who did, but this sadly became the excuse for further persecution no matter their actual devotion. An example was outright legal definitions of Old and New Christians. New Christians were often excluded from holding offices and suffered the brunt of the Spanish Inquisition’s terror.
[10] In OTL, Olid had to divide his force to fend off Gonzales as well as De las Casas. He managed to capture both, but in De las Casas’s case it was through luck. Olid tried to challenge him by sea, and was defeated; the two former comrades decided to come to a truce, but a storm smashed his fleet that night. The survivors would turn over De las Casas to Olid to save themselves. There’s disputes on what happen next. Some accounts say a mutiny occurred and killed Olid or De las Casas escaped and did the deed, but in either case the rebellion ended. Due to the POD, Olid never had to split his men to fight Gonzalez and could bring his whole force to bare against De las Casas, leading to the further divergences of TTL.
[11] The reigning king of Spain, during this period, was also the Holy Roman Emperor.
[12] She was born Malinalli, to a family that lived on the frontier of the Triple Alliance and the Yucatan, and sold to the Chontal Maya there after her mother remarried in the wake of her father’s death; it is said her mother lied about her death, and claimed Malinalli was actually a slave of hers. When the Spaniards arrived and defeated the Chontal, she was amongst a dozen women handed over to them as servants, and baptized with the Christian name of Marina. From there she would rise to become Cortes’s interrupter and mistress, resulting in the ztlin being added to her name by the Tlaxcalans.
[13] The Day-Count of the Mexica Calendar measures 260 days, and is the second more religious aspect to their two cycled system (the other is an agricultural Lunar calendar for measuring a 365 day year). This is why it’s been about 6 cycles of the Day-Count, while it has been four years since the fall of the Triple Alliance.
[14] The name for Maya lands (Mayatlahtolli is the demonym for the Maya in Nahuatl) comes from their use of black ink with red highlights when writing their codices.
[15] More butterflies. In OTL’s equally disastrous expedition by Cortes to Honduras, when they arrived at the Chontal Maya city of Itzamkanac (Acalan is the Nahuatl name for the domain it controlled, and is located in what would become the Mexican state of Campeche), Cotes did accuses Cuauhtemoc and the other two Tlatoani/Speakers of the same plot. They would all be hung for treason. Diaz states in his personal accounts that there wasn’t a shred of proof, and the guilt haunted Cortes to the point of hurting himself. In TTL, Diaz spoke up for the native lords, due to the fact they’ve heard of Velázquez and Davila’s open support for Olid, and feared their deaths could bring about a mutiny given the graver situation they faced. Diaz is also on record for greatly respecting Cuauthemoc, adding more to his actions in TTL.
[16] The Triple Alliance had a compulsory education system for both genders, but there were institutional divisions over social classes. The telpochcalli were where the bulk of the commoners went to receive military training and basics on history, religion, and either agricultural or craft skills. The calmecac were the institutions attended by the nobility and the more intellectually gifted and/or politically connected commoners; advanced studies of religion, arts, and leadership took place, in addition to military skills.
[17] Guatemala was corrupted from this Nahuatl name, which in turn is taken from the K’iche Maya term, K’iche, also meaning ‘Place of Many Trees’.
}*{
Nahuatl Lexicon #0
Nahuatl, specifically the Mexica dialect spoken in Tenochtitlan (Mexicacopa or Classical Nahuatl), was the Lingua Franca of Mesoamerica. I did my best to try and explain them in the narrative, but there’s a lot that was dropped. For those who feel overwhelmed or don’t wish to hunt down their definition for future use here’s a lexicon of all the words, places, and deities used in this update. Hope it helps.
Pronunciation
Vowels
a - ah, e - eh, i - ee, o - oh, u - oo.
Consonants
ch as in chain
j like the h in hard
x like the sh in she
z like s
qu before e or i sounds like k
c sounds like s before e or i, like k everywhere else.
h sounds like a soft h, more a pause than a sound.
Vowels
a - ah, e - eh, i - ee, o - oh, u - oo.
Consonants
ch as in chain
j like the h in hard
x like the sh in she
z like s
qu before e or i sounds like k
c sounds like s before e or i, like k everywhere else.
h sounds like a soft h, more a pause than a sound.
Acolhua, Mexica, and Tepaneca – The three Nahua nations that formed the Triple Alliance (aka the Aztec Empire).
Caxtilteca – Demonym for Spaniard.
Cuauhtemallan – ‘Land of Many Trees’, Nahuatl name of Guatemala. Comes from a direct translation of the K’iche Maya name for the region (which is K’iche).
Cemanahuac – ‘The Land Between Two Waters’, the name of the world/Earth.
Cuachic (Cuachicqueh) - ‘Shorn One’, the most elite of the Mexica warrior societies, who vowed their lives to never take a step back in combat. They would show their status by shaving their heads of all hair, save for a scalp-lock. Cuachicqueh is the plural form.
Huetlatoani (Tlatoani) – Great Speaker of the Triple Alliance, often translated as Emperor. Tlatoani is ‘Speaker’, which ruled individual Nahua cities.
Huitzilopochtli – Patron deity of the Mexica and Tenochtitlan, and the Sun’s aspect of war.
Mayatlahtolli – Demonym for the Maya peoples.
Metzli – An aspect of the Moon who watched over farmers and the night, and patron of the Lunar and agricultural cycle of the Mexica’s calendar.
Mictecacihuatl – Lady of the Dead. She watched over the bones of the deceased. Her ceremonies were combined with the Christian holidays of All Hollows Eve, All Saint’s Day, and All Souls Day to make Mexico’s Dios de los Muertos.
Moyomeh (Moyotl) – Mosquitoes. Moyotl is singular.
Nonoucalcat – ‘Land of the Dumb’, a disparaging term for the Maya lands, specifically the lowlands. Comes from the fact the area is not dominated by Nahuatl speakers.
Ometeotl – The dual-faced androgynous creator of the universe, and the source of the Teotl.
Papalomeh (Papalotl) – Butterflies. Papalotl is singular.
Pochteca – Professional traveling merchants that organized themselves into guilds. They often served as spies for the elites of the Triple Alliance.
Telpochcalli – Schools of the commoners in the Triple Alliance’s public education system.
Teotl - The spiritual force that makes up existence. Deities are more seen as pools of this cosmic energy that preside over aspects of the world.
Tlacotin – A slave. Slavery in their society was not hereditary, and came about through debt and a punishment for crimes. They possessed rights, and could buy themselves out of slavery and even own slaves of their own.
Tlaloc – The god of rains, storms, and waters. He has four aspects representing each of the directions.
Tlalocan – The first level of the Mexica’s thirteen layered conception of the heavens or Upperworld. It is an abundant land of water and vegetation that was the domain of Tlaoc, and the destination of those who died through ways related to water and storms.
Tlalqualíztl – Kissing the Earth. A traditional expression or salute of respect.
Tlalticpac – The slippery summit of life. A view of life as a constant struggle to maintain balance.
Tlatlacolli – A sin or insult that taints the very spiritual nature of person, and can even infect those around them. Purification comes through blood, from blood letting to one’s very life.
Tlaxcalteca – The proper name of the Tlaxcalans in Nahuatl.
Tonacayotl – The spiritual flesh-hood, to be alive in the Middle World of the living.
- Tonaistli - The heart-fire. It’s believed within the heart is a fragment of the sun’s fire, the life force or soul of a person.
Tonalpohualli - The Day-Count of the Mexica calendar, the second ring that designates ceremonial days. It measures cycles of 260 days.
Tonatiuh – The Mover of the Heart Soul, which gives life to the world. The primary aspect of the Sun god, and believed to be the fifth deity to fill this role.
Yaoquizqui (Yaoquizqueh) – ‘Those who have gone to war’. A soldier or warrior, especially if they are a commoner and not a part of the professional military orders. ‘Yaoquizqueh’ is the plural form.
-Ztin – a respectful form of address added to the end of a name. Similar to “My Majesty” or “Sir”.
Caxtilteca – Demonym for Spaniard.
Cuauhtemallan – ‘Land of Many Trees’, Nahuatl name of Guatemala. Comes from a direct translation of the K’iche Maya name for the region (which is K’iche).
Cemanahuac – ‘The Land Between Two Waters’, the name of the world/Earth.
Cuachic (Cuachicqueh) - ‘Shorn One’, the most elite of the Mexica warrior societies, who vowed their lives to never take a step back in combat. They would show their status by shaving their heads of all hair, save for a scalp-lock. Cuachicqueh is the plural form.
Huetlatoani (Tlatoani) – Great Speaker of the Triple Alliance, often translated as Emperor. Tlatoani is ‘Speaker’, which ruled individual Nahua cities.
Huitzilopochtli – Patron deity of the Mexica and Tenochtitlan, and the Sun’s aspect of war.
Mayatlahtolli – Demonym for the Maya peoples.
Metzli – An aspect of the Moon who watched over farmers and the night, and patron of the Lunar and agricultural cycle of the Mexica’s calendar.
Mictecacihuatl – Lady of the Dead. She watched over the bones of the deceased. Her ceremonies were combined with the Christian holidays of All Hollows Eve, All Saint’s Day, and All Souls Day to make Mexico’s Dios de los Muertos.
Moyomeh (Moyotl) – Mosquitoes. Moyotl is singular.
Nonoucalcat – ‘Land of the Dumb’, a disparaging term for the Maya lands, specifically the lowlands. Comes from the fact the area is not dominated by Nahuatl speakers.
Ometeotl – The dual-faced androgynous creator of the universe, and the source of the Teotl.
Papalomeh (Papalotl) – Butterflies. Papalotl is singular.
Pochteca – Professional traveling merchants that organized themselves into guilds. They often served as spies for the elites of the Triple Alliance.
Telpochcalli – Schools of the commoners in the Triple Alliance’s public education system.
Teotl - The spiritual force that makes up existence. Deities are more seen as pools of this cosmic energy that preside over aspects of the world.
Tlacotin – A slave. Slavery in their society was not hereditary, and came about through debt and a punishment for crimes. They possessed rights, and could buy themselves out of slavery and even own slaves of their own.
Tlaloc – The god of rains, storms, and waters. He has four aspects representing each of the directions.
Tlalocan – The first level of the Mexica’s thirteen layered conception of the heavens or Upperworld. It is an abundant land of water and vegetation that was the domain of Tlaoc, and the destination of those who died through ways related to water and storms.
Tlalqualíztl – Kissing the Earth. A traditional expression or salute of respect.
Tlalticpac – The slippery summit of life. A view of life as a constant struggle to maintain balance.
Tlatlacolli – A sin or insult that taints the very spiritual nature of person, and can even infect those around them. Purification comes through blood, from blood letting to one’s very life.
Tlaxcalteca – The proper name of the Tlaxcalans in Nahuatl.
Tonacayotl – The spiritual flesh-hood, to be alive in the Middle World of the living.
- Tonaistli - The heart-fire. It’s believed within the heart is a fragment of the sun’s fire, the life force or soul of a person.
Tonalpohualli - The Day-Count of the Mexica calendar, the second ring that designates ceremonial days. It measures cycles of 260 days.
Tonatiuh – The Mover of the Heart Soul, which gives life to the world. The primary aspect of the Sun god, and believed to be the fifth deity to fill this role.
Yaoquizqui (Yaoquizqueh) – ‘Those who have gone to war’. A soldier or warrior, especially if they are a commoner and not a part of the professional military orders. ‘Yaoquizqueh’ is the plural form.
-Ztin – a respectful form of address added to the end of a name. Similar to “My Majesty” or “Sir”.
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