Gary Jennings's Aztec is the extraordinary story of the last and greatest native civilization of North America. Told in the words of one of the most robust and. Gary Jennings was known for the rigorous and intensive research behind his Aztec Fire. Aztec (Series). Book 5. Gary Jennings Author Robert Gleason Author. Gary Jennings - [Aztec 02] - Aztec Autumn (retail) (epub) - dokument [*.epub] Praise for Aztec Autumn 'Fascinating.,,, Guided by exhaustive research into.
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Aztec Rage (Aztec). byGary Jennings; Robert Gleason; Junius Podrug. Publication date Borrow this book to access EPUB and PDF files. Gary Jennings' Aztec fire the colony's finest gunmaker and hides the truth about his native Aztec heritage Borrow this book to access EPUB and PDF files . Read "Aztec" by Gary Jennings available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first download. Gary Jennings's Aztec is the extraordinary story of.
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I and my mother and my uncle were among the vast crowd commanded by the city's Spanish soldiers to attend the ceremony, so I supposed that this event was intended to be some sort of object lesson to all of us non-Spaniards.
Indeed, the soldiers collected and prodded and herded so many of us into the city's central square that we were crammed shoulder to shoulder. Within a space kept clear by a cordon of other soldiers, a metal post stood fixed into the flagstones of the square.
To one side of it had been built a platform for the occasion, and on it sat or stood a number of Spanish Christian priests, all clad in flowing black gowns, as are our own priests. Two burly Spanish guards brought the condemned man and roughly shoved him into that cleared space. When we saw that he was not a Spaniard, pale and bearded, but one of our own people, I heard my mother sigh, "Ayya ouiya ,,," and so did many others in the crowd.
The man wore a loose, shapeless and colorless garment and, on his head, a scraggly crown made of straw. His only adornment that I could see was a pendant of some kind-it flashed when it caught the sun-hanging from a thong about his neck.
The man was quite old, even older than my uncle, and he put up no struggle against his guards. The man seemed, in fact, either resigned to his fate or indifferent to it, so I do not know why he was immediately encumbered by a heavy restraint. A tremendous piece of metal chain was hung upon him, a chain of such dimensions that a single link of it was big enough to be forced over his head to pinion his neck.
That chain was then fixed to the upright post, and the guards began piling about his feet a heap of kindling wood. While that was being done, the oldest of the priests on the platform-the chief of them, I assumed-spoke to the prisoner, addressing him by a Spanish name, "Juan Damasceno. But a younger priest, dressed in slightly different vestments, translated his chief's words-to my considerable surprise-into fluent Nahuatl.
This enabled me to comprehend that the old priest was reciting the charges against the condemned man, and also that he was-in a voice alternately unctuous and angry-trying to persuade the man to make amends or show contrition or something of the sort. But even when translated into my native language, the terms and expressions employed by the priest were a bafflement to me.
After a long and wordy while of this, the prisoner was given leave to speak. He did so in Spanish, and when that was translated into Nahuatl, I understood him very clearly: "Your Excellency, once when I was still a small child I vowed to myself that if ever I were selected for the Flowery Death, even on an alien altar, I would not degrade the dignity of my going. As is well known, the gods and goddesses take mischievous delight in perplexing us mortals.
They frequently confound our best intentions and complicate our most straightforward plans and thwart even the least of our ambitions. Often they can do such things with ease, simply by arranging what appears to be a matter of coincidence. And if I did not know better, I would have said that it was mere coincidence that brought us three-my uncle, Mixtzin, his sister Cuicani and her son, myself, Tenamaxtli-to the City of Mexico on that particular day.
Fully twelve years previous, in our own city of Aztlan, the Place of Snowy Egrets, far to the northwest, on the coast of the Western Sea, we had heard the first startling news: that The One World had been invaded by pale-skinned and heavily bearded strangers. It was said that they had come from across the Eastern Sea in huge houses that floated on the water and were propelled by immense birdlike wings.
I was only six years old at that time, with a whole seven years to wait before I could don, beneath my mantle, the maxtlatl loincloth that signifies the attainment of manhood.
Hence I was an insignificant person, of no consequence at all. Nevertheless, I was precociously inquisitive and very sharp of ear. Also, my mother Cuicani and I did reside in the Aztlan palace with my Uncle Mixtzin and his son Yeyac and daughter Ameyatl, so I was always able to hear whatever news arrived and whatever comment it provoked among my uncle's Speaking Council.
As is indicated by the -tzin suffixion to my uncle's name, he was a noble, the highest noble among us Azteca, being the Uey-Tecutli-the Revered Governor-of Aztlan.
Some while earlier, when I was just a toddling babe, the late Uey-Tlatoani Motecuzoma, Revered Speaker of the Mexica, the most powerful nation in all The One World, had accorded our then-small village the status of "autonomous colony of the Mexica. So, although we were exceedingly far distant from the capital city of Tenochtitlan-The Heart of The One World-Motecuzoma's swiftmessengers routinely brought to our Aztlan palace, as to other colonies, any news deemed of interest to his undergovernors.
Of course, the news of those intruders from beyond the sea was anything but routine.
It caused no small consternation and speculation among Aztlan's Speaking Council.