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Sam said, “You mean that it was dictated to Orizaga by the last king of the Aztecs?”
“That and more. I have to admit, the upper part has me stumped. As for the lower part . . . Here’s what strikes me: The scene in the middle of the parchment clearly depicts a sea voyage of a great number of vessels. On the lower left side of the parchment is, I think, a depiction of the Aztecs’ arrival in the area that would become their capital city of Tenochtitlán.”
SEEING THEIR STUNNED EXPRESSIONS, Dydell chuckled and went on: “Let me refresh your quintessential Aztec imagery. Legend has it that the Aztecs knew they’d found their homeland when they came across an eagle perched atop a cactus while eating a snake. The image on your codex is depicting essentially the same thing. The bird is different and the flora is different and there’s no snake, but the theme is present.”
“Why wouldn’t it be identical?” asked Sam.
“My guess: It’s a case of what I like to call MDI—Migrational Displacement Iconography. It’s a theory I’ve been toying with for some time. Essentially, it’s this: As ancient peoples migrated, they tended to change their myths and imagery to suit their new geography. It’s quite common, actually.
“If these Old World Aztecs—for lack of a better term—arrived in Mexico nine centuries before the Aztec Empire rose, it’s perfectly reasonable to think their original iconography would have changed drastically—not to mention their appearance as they interbred with the locals.”
Sam and Remi looked at each other. Sam said, “I can buy that.”
“Well, that’s good, because that was the easy part,” Dydell said. “The image in the lower right-hand corner, the one clearly meant to represent Chicomoztoc, is where the real wow factor is. How closely did you examine the image, Remi?”
“Not very,” she admitted.
“Well, there are a number of differences between the traditional depiction of Chicomoztoc and the one you have. First of all, there’s no high priest at the entrance, and the faces you usually find clustered in each of the seven caverns are missing.”
“I can’t believe I missed that.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself. In class, we barely touched on Chicomoztoc. That aside, it is what’s in the center of the cavern I find so fascinating. I took the liberty of enlarging the scan you sent me.” Dydell looked off camera and said, “Gloria, would you mind . . . Okay, good, thanks.” He faced the camera again. “This image is enlarged four hundred percent. Gloria says it should be on your screen now. Do you have it?” Dydell asked.
“We have it,” replied Sam.
“The first thing you’ll probably notice is the creature between the two male figures in the middle of the cavern. The placement suggests it is a focus of reverence. The lower half of the creature appears to be Quetzalcoatl. The upper half, though, is hard to make out. It could be the tail, or something else altogether.”
Sam said, “One of the figures is standing, the other kneeling. That has to mean something.”
“Indeed. It suggests supplication. Also, did you notice that the figure on the right is holding something?”
“It’s the Nahuatl symbol for flint,” Remi said.
“Right you are. Normally, I would classify this scene as a sacrificial ceremony of some kind, but you have to remember that the Aztecs were highly metaphorical in their ‘written’ language. Flint can also represent separation and the breaking of old ties.
“Now, here’s the kicker: In traditional drawings of Chicomoztoc, you’ll find two sets of footprints: one set going into the cave and one set going out. In your drawing, there is only one set.”
“And they’re going out,” Sam said.
“When you combine all of this—the supplicant figure, Quetzalcoatl, the flint, the footprints—you get what I believe is a ceremony of exile. The figure on the left, along with all of his followers, was banished. Based on the rest of the codex, they left Chicomoztoc, boarded their armada, headed west, and ended up in Mexico to become what history considers the Aztec people.”
Remi asked, “Professor, do we know what became of Orizaga’s original codex? Did the Church destroy it or is it tucked away in some archive somewhere?”
“Neither, but I’m sure they’d intended that it never see the light of day. In 1992 the Church held an auction of old but generally mundane artifacts—letters, illustrations, etcetera. Apparently someone messed up, and the Orizaga Codex was included in the lot. It was purchased by a Mexican millionaire, I believe. A coffee magnate.”
“What was his name?” asked Sam.
Dydell hesitated, thinking. “Garza. Alfonso or Armando, I can’t remember which.”
THEY TALKED WITH DYDELL for a few more minutes, then disconnected. As they often were, Sam and Remi were on the same wavelength. Almost in unison they said to Wendy, “Do you think you can do something to clean up the—”
“I know . . . the Quetzalcoatl image. I’m on it.”
Next, Sam and Remi turned to Selma, but she was a step ahead of them, already seated at her computer, typing. “Got it. Alfonso Garza, father of Cristián Garza. Currently known as Quauhtli Garza, president of Mexico and leader of the Mexica Tenochca Party.”
Sam and Remi shared a smile. “That’s where it all started,” he said. “Just like Blaylock, Garza got ahold of the codex and caught the bug. It consumed him.”
Remi nodded. “And took him somewhere he didn’t expect.”
