Unholy Zeal

 

January 13, 2022

How it was just before the Spanish arrived.
The Mexican I wish I had a better understanding of their history. From what I know, they began their journey to the central highlands of Mexico from what are now the present-day American states of Utah, Arizona, and Nevada. I’m not sure why they migrated south, but if I had to guess, I’d hazard it was a combination of factors: climate change, food scarcity, and possibly interference from the “Gods.” I mention the latter only because we know that the Annage were active in the Americas during the initial migratory period.

We can be reasonably confident that, as the Mexican moved south, they were met with suspicion and hostility. Where they were accepted, it was often in the lowest of capacities—as slaves. And slavery in their context didn’t confer rights or status. It would have seemed unthinkable that one of them might one day become a High King like Coattail (Meet-CO-watl). Yet, through many long years and great effort, that is exactly what happened.

Unfortunately, for this to come to pass, a troubling precedent had to be set—one that would play a major role in how everything later unravelled.

Until recently, I had laboured under the misconception that the Mayan/Aztec world was far more centralized and organized, perhaps resembling ancient Rome with a central government overseeing provincial governors. This, however, was not the case. Their world was composed of independent city-states, much like ancient Shumer or, more recently, classical Greece. And that meant frequent warfare. It was through this constant warfare that the Mexican rose to power, eventually overcoming their former overlords.

This rise is historically fascinating, especially because successful slave revolts are exceedingly rare. Part of the Mexica’s success came through careful subterfuge. As captives and slaves, they were forbidden from participating in celebrations or sacred ceremonies, yet they were expected to maintain their owners’ weapons and ceremonial attire in pristine condition. Being slaves, they were also forbidden from possessing anything that could be used as a weapon. The Mexican, however, were resourceful—they would secretly craft two copies of a weapon: one flimsy and harmless in case of discovery, the other a true and functional replica.

Itzcoatl’s father, Acamapichtli (Ah-cah-mah-PEECH-tli), had died during a time of violence. He had married a noblewoman from Culhuacan. The Mexican supported Itzcoatl’s ascension to the throne because of his mother’s lineage—it would help secure loyalty among the people of Culhuacan. In their volatile political environment, there was no tradition of primogeniture. Leadership was based not on birth order but on strength and capability. Itzcoatl’s rise is a testament to just how fluid their political structure was.

While not entirely unheard of, regicide—the killing of a king or queen—was rare. Noble families tended to remain closely allied, knowing they would be rewarded with high military ranks or positions in the priesthood. Interestingly, deposed kings were not always executed, unlike King Alalu, who was overthrown by King Anu. In many cases, deposed rulers would attempt to remain loyal and persuade their followers to support the new regime—often in vain.

Coattail had not been groomed for kingship. That role had been intended for his half-brother Huitzilihuitl (Hwee-tzee-lee-HWEE-tl). Both were sons of a slave girl from a neighbouring village, Azcapotzalco. She had been a vegetable seller before being handed over to Acamapichtli—likely as a wager, debt settlement, or offering to curry royal favour. She was said to be quite attractive. In Mexican society, the children of slaves were not automatically considered slaves themselves.

Sadly, Aztec civilization has long been misunderstood. Scholars have often labelled them “cannibalistic savages” who killed indiscriminately and believed, mistakenly, that all Aztec slaves were prisoners of war to be sacrificed to the gods. While many prisoners of war—mostly men—were indeed sacrificed, not all slaves were the same. As in the Mediterranean world, slaves could come from any background, even royalty. In fact, Itzcoatl’s mother had been a former princess.

We will return to the world of the Aztecs in later articles. For now, however, our Grail quest continues. In our search for spirituality, we have come to see how the Western world’s primary source of spiritual guidance has been deeply corrupted. When the Aztecs, Mayans, Inca, Toltec, and Olmecs spoke of their gods, they often invoked The Plumed Serpent—Quetzalcoatl—an Annunaki. The Bible, too, speaks of an Annunaki figure: El Shaddai. The biblical story provides archaeological support (see our article “Israel is in the Wrong Place”)Is Israel in the right place?  suggesting that it, like the Mesoamerican pyramids, may reflect real events.

Our Grail bloodline heritage begins with Enki and an unknown hominid, followed by a long list of begats that culminates in the birth of Jesus Christ. After the failed Jewish rebellion, Jesus is said to have gone to India, while his wife and children fled to Europe. There, the bloodline eventually merged with the royal houses of Europe—particularly concentrated in the Royal House of Stewart.

Due to the unholy zeal of the Catholic Church and a friar named Diego de Landa (see our article An Accomplishment), most of Mesoamerican history was deliberately destroyed—lost to us forever. It remains unknown, and possibly unknowable, whether that lost history contained any records of Grail bloodline connections. Mesoamerican creation stories differ from the Ennuma Elish, but they also contain references to a great flood.

Quetzalcoatl and Viracocha were said to be sons of Enki and El Shaddai—a younger generation of deities, it seems, who presided over the entire Mesoamerican world. At this point in our journey, it seems unlikely that Coattail or his family were actual Grail kings. More plausibly, they were warlords—much like the Coburg Saxe-Windsors of the United Kingdom—who fashioned themselves into royalty.