A series of runners had apprised Horn Lance of Thirteen Sacred Jaguar’s progress as the flotilla of five canoes approached. Now he waited at the canoe landing, aware of the curiosity the entourage he’d assembled was drawing.
The moment had finally come. He watched in appreciation as Thirteen Sacred Jaguar’s lead canoe angled in toward shore, paddles dipping in unison. The Natchez warriors kept the growing crowd from swarming the beach.
Everything had been perfectly orchestrated. Horn Lance had seen to it. Porters had been hired, along with a magnificent litter. Gifts of food and drink were prepared. He’d hired local men to carry the inlaid boxes of gifts and the Itza lord’s personal possessions. Musicians waited with drums and flutes. His Natchez warriors were dressed in full regalia and stood in formation to escort the procession.
Even the weather seemed to cooperate, a morning rain having cooled the air before departing to the east.
Thirteen Sacred Jaguar’s standard bearer, Burning Ant, stood in the bow, the lord’s kukul standard elevated on its pole. Carved in the form of a feathered snake and brightly painted in bright yellow, black, blue, and green the standard pulsed with ch’ulel: the living Spirit of the War Serpent, Waxaklahun Kan. More than Thirteen Sacred Jaguar’s most prized possession, the kukul contained the war god’s presence in this world. The jadeite eyes seemed to burn with a fire of their own. The kukul had carried the Itza lord this far, and in the end, its Power would grant him Cahokia.
Seated behind the standard bearer, Thirteen Sacred Jaguar looked regal.
True to form, the Itza had donned his finest raiment, an ahau nak, or lord’s mask, encased his head. The opulent headdress was intricately carved, painted in bright green, yellow, red, and black; an iridescent green plume of splendid quetzal tail feathers rose from the top and fell to the rear. Giant ear spools covered his ears. A gleaming green quetzal-and-parrot-feather cloak draped down from his shoulders. The kilt he wore had been woven into a masterful checked design from dyed threads. Each crossing of the pattern sported a drilled obsidian disk. In his hand Thirteen Sacred Jaguar held a magnificent fan of splayed scarlet macaw feathers.
Behind him sat his four warriors—all that remained of the party of forty that had left Chichen Itza so long ago on the quest for Cahokia. They, too, wore feathers, armor, and paint, their hard eyes bright with excitement.
After Thirteen Sacred Jaguar’s canoe speared the sand, the standard bearer leaped to the bank, the kukul raised high. A new Power had come to Cahokia. Horn Lance swallowed hard, awed and humbled. Waxaklahun Kan stared out at Cahokia with glittering jade eyes.
He could feel the god’s Power. From this moment forward, nothing would ever be the same. He would talk of this day for the rest of his life, and his souls would be honored in the afterlife.
Two of the Natchez paddlers stepped out, prostrating themselves in the shallow water so that the Itza lord might disembark onto their backs and walk ashore without wetting his feet.
Horn Lance advanced, then dropped to one knee, head bowed as he called, “Ahau Oxlajun Chul B’alam, Cahokia cham aj payal!” Then he translated for the crowd: “Lord Thirteen Sacred Jaguar, Cahokia receives he who leads!”
As he rose, the musicians started to play, and the Natchez warriors rhythmically banged war clubs on their wooden shields. The Itza warriors were grinning at each other as they retrieved their yaotlatquitl, or war equipment, including their shields, atlatls, and the long, bark-sheathed macuahuitl swords. With eager eyes and rapacious smiles they trooped ashore.
As Horn Lance had expected, the crowd cheered.
“How has it gone, Ch’ak Payal?” Thirteen Sacred Jaguar asked, taking in the crowd. He kept his head carefully erect. The mask and headdress might have been stunning, but it severely restricted the wearer’s movements.
“All according to plan, Lord. The city is buzzing about your arrival. Our potential enemies are distracted.”
“This is mighty Cahokia?” He was looking around in dismay.
“River Mounds City, Lord. Cahokia’s main port. We have a distance yet to go before we reach the city center. If you will seat yourself, we’ll be on our way.” Horn Lance indicated the litter; the porters knelt in the sand beside it, their heads bowed.
Burning Ant took his place in front and raised the kukul. Thirteen Sacred Jaguar seated himself regally in the litter, and at a gesture from Horn Lance, the porters lifted him high.
Another shout broke from the crowd. Many, as Horn Lance had predicted, were dancing in step, clapping their hands to the music and the hollow clacking of the warriors’ shields.
Even as they started, the Natchez paddlers were hauling the craft onto shore and shouting orders as the bearers began shouldering boxes, bags, and bedding to follow in line.
The musicians fell in behind, their music adding to the majesty of the proceedings as the entourage wound through the narrow tracks between buildings.
“Do these people not have architects?” Thirteen Sacred Jaguar queried incredulously. “A sacbe, built of proper stone and elevated above the muck, will be one of my first orders of business.”
“Cahokians do have elevated causeways. Their versions of the sacbe are made of earth. The Avenue of the Moon south of the Great Plaza is one such, and many run through marshy areas.” Horn Lance then added, “The task before us, I fear, will be daunting. These people will need to be taught how to quarry and square stone for the construction. Among so many other things.”
“Then we shall be worthy of the challenge the Lords of Sky and Earth have given us.”
“As you order, Lord.”
In fits and starts the warriors beat their way through the confusion of densely packed buildings and out onto the thoroughfare. “This, Lord, is called the Avenue of the Sun. It is the main road leading through Cahokia from the east to the west.”
“Another sacbe to be built. This wouldn’t pass for a farmer’s trail. Though it is an improvement compared to those wretched Natchez.”
“You will find many disappointments, Lord.” Horn Lance smiled as he added, “And, of course, incredible opportunities for one as bold as you.”
“I have always cherished the historic Yucatec lords and envied their divine authority. The multepal council has its advantages, but being on my own, I shall found my dynasty and rule as an ahau. From what you have told me, the Cahokians are used to having a supreme lord to rule them. Have you found a suitable woman for me? One the people and nobles will accept?”
“I have, Lord. And, to your honor, she is young, beautiful, and revered by the Cahokians.”
“I trust her family will be amenable.”
“You can buy her for what would pass as a trifle in Chichen Itza. She is the false god’s sister and antagonistic toward him. He’s of the Sky World; she’s aligned with what you would know as Xibalba, the Lower World. I’ve told you of the similarities in their corrupt myths. Her Spirit Creature is called Piasa here, analogous to jaguar, lord of Xibalba.”
“And her name?”
“Night Shadow Star, Lord.”