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Part 11: Empire of Hummingbirds
Purépecha-Mexica border
September 8, 1521
Not for the first time, Cristóbal de Olid found himself wondering if he made the right choice in fleeing from his captors in Tenochtitlan. How many months had passed since that fateful night, the night he snuck out of his luxurious prison and slipped away from the men Moctezuma assigned to guard him under the cover of darkness (1)? Though he didn't bother counting anymore, he still couldn't forget the similarities between his course of action and what the tlatoani did even longer ago, back when Hernán Cortés, whom the conquistador-turned-fugitive served as his quartermaster, seemed to be almost literally at the top of the world. There was only one difference, of course: Moctezuma returned to his place as ruler and was hailed by his subjects, Olid had been living in the Mesoamerican wilderness for so long he was barely distinguishable from a wild animal at this point, driven only by the instinct to survive. Which, in the end, involved finding someone - anyone - who could protect him, not only from the elements but also the Mexica.
Assuming they didn't think he was already dead, an assumption that inched ever closer to reality with each passing day. Though Olid managed to live on a diet of native plants and animals (mostly insects) so far, he still lost a great deal of weight in the last few months, while his clothes were reduced to a collection of rags which barely covered his unmentionables. The only thing he was sure of was that was traveling westward, following the sunset, and that was enough. For the Spaniard, during his time as a prisoner, had learned of a mighty empire lying just beyond the Triple Alliance's western border, one which delivered them great defeats in the past, and he'd be damned if he died before he could offer them his services. He was more than ready to submit himself to whatever conditions they could choose to put him under - though he doubted they could come up with something worse than being forced to live in this environment all alone - so long as they gave him a chance to have his revenge.
As it would turn out, however, they'd find him first. And they had many, many questions to ask.
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The history of the Purépecha and the empire they built is, in many ways, a singular case in Mesoamerica. Their language, for example, is unrelated to those which belong to the Oto-Manguean and Uto-Aztecan families, spoken by neighboring peoples like the Matlatzinca and the Nahuas, respectively, in spite of hundreds if not thousands of years of intermingling. Because of this, some researchers instead try to establish a connection between Purépecha and languages spoken in the Andes, using archeological findings, like pottery and knives, similar to those fabricated by the Moche and even the Quechua, as evidence of contact between these peoples in spite of the great distances separating them from one another. But that wasn't the only similarity between the people who laid the foundations of an empire on the fertile volcanic soils surrounding Lake Pátzcuaro and those who, almost simultaneously, did the same on the one of the highest mountain ranges in the world.
First, their metallurgy was without equal in Mesoamerica. While other peoples, including the Mexica, worked only with copper and precious metals by the time the Spanish arrived in force in the 1520s, the Purépecha were able to create bronze, which they used to manufacture various objects, practical and ceremonial alike, and even some weapons - though these were few and far between, with obsidian weapons dominating their military thanks to the sheer abundance of it. Secondly, their political system was far more centralized than that of their neighbors, with an organized bureaucracy centered in the capital of Tzintzuntzan (home to at least 30.000 souls, not counting the hundreds of surrounding villages, before smallpox reared its ugly head) and provincial governors who were directly appointed by the irecha (king) and delivered a steady stream of taxes every year. This was nothing like the confederations which dominated the rest of Mesoamerica, in which the various altepeme retained a great deal of autonomy as well as their native dynasties, as long as they fulfilled their tributary obligations (2).
It was in no small part due to these peculiarities the that the Purépecha state not only maintained its independence when the Triple Alliance (then led by Axayacatl, father of Moctezuma II) first waged war upon it in the 1470s, but delivered them a defeat which humiliated the tlatoani so thoroughly he died of grief at the age of 31. Decades of conflict ensued, the Purépecha fortifying most of their eastern border to protect the core of their territory from Mexica incursions, but the cost of maintaining these defensive works took its toll on the empire: its attempt to subdue the kingdoms of Xalisco and Colima, located to the northwest and southwest of it respectively, failed, halting its territorial expansion for decades. Still, having a (relatively) cohesive, compact state did have its advantages, which became especially clear once Europeans started to set foot on Mesoamerican soil in large numbers, bringing their knowledge and, most importantly, their diseases along with them.
The Purépecha Empire at the very beginning of the Nepantla Period (1520).
Smallpox cleaved its way through the Iréchikwa Tzintzuntzani (the empire's official name, which translates to "Kingdom of Tzintzuntzan" (3)) in 1520 like a hot knife through butter, claiming tens (if not hundreds) of thousands of lives as it lumbered its way to the north and west. Much like in the other kingdoms it struck, the diesase didn't discriminate by class, with one of its victims being the then current irecha, Zuangua, who held the post since 1486. Fortunately for the empire, Zuangua had a clear successor in the form of his son, Tangaxuan (or Tangáxoan) II, saving it from the horrors of a civil war at a critical time. Though trade along the eastern border, already a trickle thanks to repeated Mexica raids, was practically halted, stories about men clad in shining armor that made them almost invincible and who carried weapons which breathed fire and sounded like thunder still slithered their way into Tangaxuan's inner circle in Tzintzuntzan.
The court (or what was left of it, at least) didn't believe these tales at first since they had more urgent matters to deal with - matters like enforcing a proper quarantine and not dying in the process. This was another task in which their unusually centralized political system helped, since it allowed the government to receive information on what provinces had to be closed off to stop or slow down smallpox's advance more effectively, and which ones could be kept open to prevent a famine from taking place. Everything changed, however, when a small group of warriors patrolling the outskirts of Taximaroa (a city at the very edge of the Iréchikwa's eastern border) in search of bandits instead encountered the dishelved, filthy, emaciated and just barely living body of Cristóbal de Olid in September 8 1521. Barely hanging on to sanity, he, according to official records, kept babbling in Nahuatl and "a tongue we never heard of" (almost certainly Spanish) about how he was once on the edge of eternal glory, only for the Mexica to take everything he had away and slaughter his comrades. The commander of the local garrison supposedly almost killed him out of both annoyance and mercy, but settled for making him a prisoner instead.
Months later, after being nursed back to (physical) health by his saviors-turned-captors, Olid was taken to Tzintzuntzan and brought before Tangaxuan and the court, who demanded him to tell everything he knew and if he was responsible for the plague ravaging the Iréchikwa in any way. The Spaniard, much more eloquent and presentable than before, repeated the exact same story he told the men who found him in Taximaroa with the best Nahuatl he could muster, only for the Purépecha nobles, priests, generals and bureaucrats to laugh at his face - how could they possibly believe that a thousand or so foreigners could make the mighty Moctezuma II a prisoner? And even if they did, how could they have let him slip through their fingers and turn the tables on them so easily? Refusing to entertain this tale even a second longer than he had to, Tangaxuan signaled for his guards to arrest Olid to interrogate him more thoroughly later.
More than two years passed after that fateful meeting, two years in which the Purépecha, with great effort, put their house back in order: the first (and worst) outbreak of smallpox finally subsided, giving them a chance to lick their wounds and look beyond their borders for the first time in years. The information collected by the government's agents in the west was most appetizing, since their words, if accurate, meant that Colima and Xalisco were mere shadows of their former selves, weakened to an irreversible degree by disease and infighting - ripe targets for conquest. The reports about European weapons and armor - coinciding with Narváez's arrival and the events that led to the Treaty of Tlatelolco - also became more frequent, accurate and ominous, but Tangaxuan paid no attention to them and mustered his army to conquer his western neighbors, subduing them with little difficulty (4). Had the Triple Alliance struck at that moment, in 1524, the Iréchikwa Tzintzuntzani would've folded like a wet paper towel.
But they didn't, and that would cost them very, very dearly, for the Purépecha received a warning they could not ignore.
The shipwreck that changed Purépecha history.
On November 7, 1526, a Spanish ship belonging to Ferdinand Magellan's second expedition, the same that asserted Madrid's control over the Carolines and the Moluccas (and made contact with the Tawantinsuyu before all that (5)), was separated from the rest of its fleet by a storm and wrecked near the mouth of the Atoyac River (6). Those of the crew who survived, some 40 men in total, were found and promptly pounced upon by a detachment of Purépecha troops, but although they were eventually captured they still killed or wounded dozens of their opponents before finally laying down their arms and surrendering. Their vessel was stripped of what remained of its cargo, which among other things included gunpowder, firearms, swords and steel armor and trade goods like various fabrics, sugar and a small amount of gold and silver from the Andes. The Spaniards were then taken to Tzintzuntzan to be interrogated, and the information they possessed confirmed shook the Purépecha court to its core: every single word of Cristóbal de Olid's testimony was true, and it was only a matter of time before the Triple Alliance unleashed its new weapons upon them.
Though the exact circumstances of what happened are still a mystery (and extremely romanticized), what is known is that Olid was freed from his house arrest and quickly became one of Tangaxuan II's closest advisors. He had no problem sharing everything he knew, from how to ride a horse to wielding a sword to wearing a suit of armor, as well as how to counter the weapons and tactics the Mexica now possessed. Though it took some time, many of the Iréchikwa Tzintzuntzani's famous blacksmiths gradually specialized themselves in smelting bronze exclusively, bronze with which they crafted an ever growing number of swords, spears, shields and armor. Their fortresses, meanwhile, were reinforced with ramparts and ditches that would make a frontal assault much more difficult, and their garrisons regularly practiced how to sally forth from them in the dead of night. While Cuauhtémoc entangled himself with the Maya in the distant jungles of Chiapan and Guatemala, the Purépecha prepared for war.
And Cristóbal de Olid would have his revenge, no matter the cost.
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Notes:
(1) For those who may not remember, Olid's escape is briefly mentioned in Part 4.
(2) And didn't rebel against their overlords.
(3) Fun fact, Tzintzuntzan means "place of hummingbirds" in the Purépecha language. Which is why I gave this chapter the name it has.
(4) This is why the Purépecha Empire looks the way it does in the map I made.
(5) That will be addressed in a future chapter, I promise.
(6) OTL's Balsas River, which makes up much of the border of the Mexican states of Guerrero and Michoacán.