Within the Imperial Palace grounds in the capital city of Tenochtitlan, is a well kept garden. Plots of different flowering plants and trees were planted on the day Great Prince Montezuma II was born, a recreational enclosure for his very own. After all these years, the garden now has the look of an exotic jungle. It is covered with ferns and different colored flowering plants, some with roots attached to tree trunks, competing space with thick vines that snake upwards towards the thick canopy above.
A single cloth-covered meandering path cuts through this exclusive forested paradise. It is kept clean by servants who go over it constantly, sweeping and picking up dead leaves or other debris. The covering is necessary because Ruler must never touch bare ground with his sandled feet. Shortly before sunrise, servants carry bundles of clean colorful woven squares for this purpose, and in the evening are taken back to be washed.
The daily walk is a customary practice and no one dares venture outside and disturb his private stroll. For some reason, today feels more different for him as he views his own future with anxiety. He always practices self-control, just like he was taught from childhood, but now senses his is losing his mind; his head about to explode.
There is loud squawking noise and chirping from birds and squeals and howls from his private zoo. Since it is located a short distance away, he is used to hearing it and no longer notices it. No, he senses something else. Then there is that rushing sound inside his head that comes and goes. The fame of the bearded ones’ victory had spread quickly. According to his spies, the strangers are invincible and very courageous. The bad news brought in yesterday had ruined completely his entire day. Insignificant in numbers, the small fighting unit had succeeded in bringing to their knees the larger forces of Tlaxcayan.
He shakes his head as if unwilling to accept what is going through his mind. He looks up, and wild, colorful talking birds look down at him. Then he begins walking in tight circles within one of the cloth squares, trembling uncontrollably. Who are they? Is it truly Quetzalcoatl? Gods, give me a sign, I beg of you. He stops walking as his throat tightens. He can hardly breathe and his head feels like it is spinning. Then the moment passes and a more soothing feeling reaches him. Looking around quickly the great prince sees that his is still alone, and this is how he feels, alone and afraid.
The great prince starts walking again. Following the cloth covered patterns moving backwards with every forward step he takes. A long time ago, he had personally chosen the design woven in each one of the cloth squares, a flashing thought of those happy times. Tlaxcayan! Those pigs even have their own name, Tlaxcala. In a flash of anger, he spits to the side of the path, quickly looking around to see if anyone saw him.
The victory of the bearded strangers over Tlaxcayan is so difficult to believe. Their achievement of success is something he and his father, Montezuma I, and his predecessor before had failed to accomplish. He remembers hearing about it when he was young. One hundred years! They had all tried for over one hundred years! He notices something. He looks up again, and through an opening of the tree canopy, sees a large dark cloud covering the sun. There is that rushing sound again.
Another sign! Now he feels deathly afraid of the bearded ones, of what they might do if they force themselves against his grand city of Tenochtitlan. He needs to appease them somehow.