Fifth Sun: A New History of the Aztecs

by Camilla Townsend

Then would Shield Flower cry aloud from her pyre once again and Itzcoatl reveal the political strategies of a rising altepetl. King Axayacatl and Flamingo Snake might yet dance and play the drum together in a moment of creativity and joy. Moctezuma would walk straight-backed toward a looming pyramid for a grisly ceremony, intent on frightening all others, while Malintzin called out a warning to him from a distance. The Mexicas’ extraordinary efforts to defend their realm would be in vain, for the high king and his people would lose a great war. Then Moctezuma’s daughter Tecuichpotzin would cry bitter tears, some for herself, some for the people running out of their burning houses, some for the newly arrived Africans. The next generation would do the best they could for posterity, doing everything possible to try to fend off the worst results of conquest, including a lasting, grinding poverty. Don Luis Cipac, the last tlatoani, and don Martín Cortés, son of the brilliant slave girl Malintzin, would both meet tragic ends, but their stories would survive and be handed down, albeit in fragmented pieces. Then Tezozomoc of the royal line and Chimalpahin of the conquered altepetl of Chalco would come together to create books of history—books that, contrary to all expectations, would defiantly remain a part of the world of the Fifth Sun for as long as it might last.