Ocelotl

A Viking village come across a foreign stranger in the new land. . .

“Pray to our lord that he may bring you into his light,” Frode said as his cousin Agnar pulled his axe out of the raider’s back. They had worn them off this time.

“Odin works well for me cousin.” He said wiping the blood off his favorite axe. “Not to long ago you would be here on the field of battle honoring the gods that care. Instead of hiding in your hut.”

“It’s a chapel,” Frode said. When the raiders had appeared, he had prayed to God to save them, and he had. They had won the battle and their village was safe.

They came one bright shinny day, emerging from the forest like a strange birds in their colorful feathered headdresses. They stood on the edge, refusing to proceed until Frode volunteered to greet them instead of killing them all as Agnar had suggested.

The strangers, three of them, were of much smaller stature than Frode and his people and wore little in the terms of clothing, a loin cloth to cover their indecent parts, and their skin was of a dark complexion similar to the people Frode had seen occasionally when he sailed far enough east instead of west. These strangers carried spears and colorful shields, and when he approached, several more poked out of the forest bows ready to fire.

Frode raised his hands hoping that they’d understand he meant no harm, yet. Then was completely surprised when their leader spoke and he could completely understand him firmly say, “Leave. Huitzilopochtli has guided me here to this place where we must build a temple here in his name.”

Frode wasn’t pleased, he had enough trouble with his cousin refusing to believe, now these strangers? He said, “We have been living here by god’s good grace before you arrived. We will not leave.”

The stranger seemed to understand him as well but brought his shield closer to his body instead as if getting ready to charge. He might be Christian but Forde would not go easy, never, he had once believed in Odin after all. Who else could save their souls? Instead he said, “I am Frode,” then he motioned to the stranger who raised his shield up signaling the archers to lower.

“Ocelotl,” he said. “We’ve been watching you. You travel on those large walled canoes. How many people fit in them?”

“Our ships? Quite a few,” Frode said looking towards the sea where his cousin had their ships docked and nearly ready for their new journey.

“How far out to sea can they go?” Ocelotl asked.

“A great distance. Oceans away if needed.” Frode said. The stranger looked pensive. He nodded, then spoke to his men before they all vanished back into the forest.

Frode later sent a group to try and find the location of their farm, but it was as if they had vanished into the forest. Frode hoped they wouldn’t return, but a week or so later they returned, this time wearing the fur of an oversized spotted cat on his back. Agnar joined Frode and this time, Ocelotl was the first to speak.

“Of what animal does your weapon come from,” he said pointing to Agnar’s axe.

Frode did his best to explain iron and how it was made. Then made sure to end his statement by saying, "God allowed to know how to make axes. He will make it known to you as well.”

“God? Does he live nearby?”

Agnar laughed. “They don’t know of Christianity. You’ll have a much luck converting them as you do me.” Forde ignored him.

“He lives in each of us. He can hear when we pray to him.”

“Like Huitzilopochtli,” Ocelotl said. “He listens most when blood is shed in his name.”

“So does Odin.” Agnar said.

“Odin?”

“The allfather.” Agnar said. “He gives wisdom.”

“As does Quetzalcoatl, the precious serpent. So great is he that the quetzal gave him his feathers and he is the greatest of all serpents because he is the largest of them all.”

“Jormungandr?”

“No, no,” Frode said cutting in. “There is only God and his son was Jesus Christ.”

They spoke for some time, Ocelotl and Agnar coming to a much better understanding of each other with every question. Frode tried to bring them into Christianity but was mostly ignored. He wondered if God was angry at him for failing to convert either of them. Ocelotl left and came back the next day to speak with Agnar and again every few days. He brought exotic goods, things either of them had eve seen before. Strange fruits either had ever seen before. During one meeting, Agnar took Ocelotl on one of their ships. His men mingled in their village, though they couldn’t speak with each other the way they could with Ocelotl. Frode tried converting them too, taking him to makeshift chapel but to no avail.

Then one day Ocelotl arrived when Agnar was off hunting. He said that the priest had allowed Frode and Agnar to visit their home. Frode saw the opportunity to speak to Ocelotl and his people about having a good Christian faith.

He followed them through the forest. A fog thin fog settled on the forest floor hiding the moss and the trail from view. They came across a bramble of bushes which was guarded on either side by a pair of Ocelotl’s warriors. “Huitzilopochtli himself led us through.” Ocelotl said before through the thick leaves of the vines until they stopped rustling from his movement. One of his warriors motioned for Frode to proceed onward, not giving him much of a choice. He stepped through. Hands forward pulling the branches away he found them giving way before him. He could only see the thickness of the twigs and branches. His fingers felt the heat first, a warm, humid air before Frode emerged on the other side of the brambles in a completely different forest.

The plants and trees were all wrong. There was no trail or ground, just thick vegetation with no discernable path. This didn’t seem to bother Ocelotl who smugly on a large rock. The heat was pervasive.

“What is this place,” Frode said.

“Tenochtitlan,” he answered.

The walked for a few moments before Forde could discern they were descending a mountain. The terrain became wetter and wetter as they came down until they reached the base and came upon a massive lake. There a man, not a warrior like Ocelotl’s men, waited on a long canoe. The warriors barely acknowledged him as they boarded talking idly amongst themselves. The man rowed silently under the hot sun.

In the distance a massive structure began to take form. What he had thought had been a series of hills jutting out of the water where large stone structures on an island. Smaller buildings floated on the water itself around it. Then as they approached, he saw the hordes of people that were amassed there.

Their canoe drifted through the water towards the city slowly and at an angle until it found a canal to enter the city. People waved happily at Ocelotl but stared at Frode as they drifted past. They were all miniscule stature; the women wore long skirts and the men loincloths similar to Oceltol. None wore shoes, not a single boot in sight. As a result, their feet dirty with sand or mud.

They floated down to the center of the city, to the largest of the triangular structures. A crowd had gathered at the base. “You are fortunate Frode, today is a day of celebration.” Ocelotl said as they disembarked.

Atop the pyramid a man was brought out by two warriors dressed similarly to Oceltol. An enemy perhaps or someone very much disliked by the crowd’s reaction to his appearance. Another, more elaborately dressed man appeared from within the temple at its peak and the prisoner was laid upon a stone slab before him. Words were spoken that Frode couldn’t hear before a black knife was plunged into his abdomen. The priest removed his heart through the cut and raised it high for all to see. If he had screamed it could not be heard over the roar of the crowd. The body was then tossed down the steps of the pyramid and landed at the bottom joining the mangled heap of other bodies.

“Yes,” Oceltol said. “You are fortunate to honor Huitzilopochtli today,” the others who had come off their canoe seized Frode by the arms. “I’m sorry friend. I did not wish it to be this way, but the greatest of sacrifices will please the Turquoise Prince the most. You must understand, this was very hard for me.”

Frode struggled but then stopped. What would he do surround by all these vicious people? How to escape without a canoe? He had volunteered to come and this was his reward. They put in a chamber where many other unhappy souls awaited their fate. Forde prayed for forgiveness for all that he had done, for his own soul to join Him in heaven, for his family back home, his children who would grow up without a father.

He saw it then, amidst the fervor of his praying. What the future would bring and that of his children and his children’s children. Growing strong, exploring, conquering, expanding. Then one day upon these shores, a ship larger than any he had ever seen with men, not of his descendants but his people nonetheless, with weapons that any man could wield at the pull of a trigger. He saw it all in that moment, that with these men came the end of this city and its savage people. All fire, blood, chaos and destruction. Only after all that and not before, Christianity would reign.

And that thought, at least, gave him the greatest joy.