The Fair God; or, The Last of the 'Tzins
“Let them say further,” he continued, “that with my own hand I made him a warrior of the highest grade.” And, bending over the adventurer, he clasped around his neck the collar of the supreme military order of the realm.39 “Nor is that all. Rank, without competence, is a vexation and shame. At the foot of Chapultepec, on the shore of the lake, lie an estate and a palace of which I have been proud. Let it be said, finally, that I gave them to enrich him and his forever.” He paused, and turned coldly to the Tezcucan. “But as to the son of ’Hualpilli, his fine must stand; such pride must be punished. He shall pay the gold, or forfeit his province.” Then, outstretching toward the audience both his arms, he said, so as to be heard throughout the chamber, “Now, O my children, justice has been done!”
The words were simple; but the manner, royal as a king’s and patriarchal as a pontiff’s, brought every listener to his knees.
“Stand up, my lord Hualpa! Take your place in my train. I will return to the palace.”
With that he passed out.
And soon there was but one person remaining,—Iztlil’, the Tezcucan. Brought from Tlacopan by officers of the court, too weak to walk, without slaves to help him, at sight of the deserted hall his countenance became haggard, the light in his hollow eyes came and went, and his broad breast heaved passionately; in that long, slow look he measured the depth of his fall.
“O Tezcuco, Tezcuco, city of my fathers!” he cried aloud. “This is the last wrong to the last of thy race of kings.”
A little after he was upon a bench exhausted, his head covered by his mantle. Then a hand was laid upon his shoulder; he looked up and saw Hualpa.
“How now! Has the base-born come to enjoy his triumph? I cannot strike. Laugh and revile me; but remember, mine is the blood of kings. The gods loved my father, and will not abandon his son. In their names I curse you!”
“Tezcucan, you are proud to foolishness,” said the hunter, calmly. “I came to serve you. Within an hour I have become master of slaves—”
“And were yourself a slave!”
“Well, I won my freedom; I slew a beast and conquered a—But, prince, my slaves are at the door. Command them to Tlacopan.”
“Play courtier to those who have influence; lean your ambition upon one who can advance it. I am undone.”
“I am not a courtier. The service I offer you springs from a warrior’s motive. I propose it, not to a man of power, but to a prince whose courage is superior to his fortune.”
For a moment the Tezcucan studied the glowing face; then his brows relaxed, and, sighing like a woman, and like a woman overcome by the unexpected gentleness, he bowed his head, and covered his face with his hands, that he might not be accused of tears.
“Let me call the slaves, O prince,” said Hualpa.
Thrice he clapped his hands, whereat four tattooed tamanes stalked into the chamber with a palanquin. Iztlil’ took seat in the carriage, and was being borne away, when he called the hunter.
“A word,” he said, in a voice from which all passion was gone. “Though my enemy, you have been generous, and remembered my misfortunes when all others forsook me. Take with you this mark. I do not ask you to wear it, for the time is nearly come when the son of ’Hualpilli will be proscribed throughout the valley; but keep it in witness that I, the son of a king, acknowledged your right and fitness to be a noble. Farewell.”
Hualpa could not refuse a present so delicately given; extending his hand, he received a bracelet of gold, set with an Aztec diamond of immense value. He clasped it upon his arm, and followed the carriage into the street.
BOOK FOUR
CHAPTER I
THE KING GIVES A TRUST TO HUALPA
And now was come the time of all the year most pleasant,—the time when the maguey was greenest, when the cacti burst into flowers, and in every field women and children, with the strong men, went to pluck the ripened maize. Of the summer, only the wealth and beauty remained. The Goddess of Abundance divided the worship which, at other seasons, was mostly given to Huitzil’ and Tezca’;40 in her temples the days were all of prayer, hymning, and priestly ceremony. No other towers sent up such columns of the blue smoke so grateful to the dwellers in the Sun; in no other places were there such incessant burning of censers, presentation of gifts, and sacrifice of victims. Throughout the valley the people carolled those songs the sweetest and most millennial of men,—the songs of harvest, peace, and plenty.
I have before said that Tezcuco, the lake, was the especial pride of the Aztecs. When the sky was clear, and the air tranquil, it was very beautiful; but when the king, with his court, all in state, set out for the hunting-grounds on the northern shore, its beauty rose to splendor. By his invitation great numbers of citizens, in style suited to the honor, joined their canoes to the flotilla composing the retinue. And let it not be forgotten that the Aztec loved his canoe as in Christendom the good knight loves his steed, and decorated it with all he knew of art; that its prow, rising high above the water, and touched by the master sculptors, was dressed in garlands and fantastic symbols; that its light and shapely canopy, elegantly trimmed within, was shaded by curtains, and surmounted by trailing streamers; and that the slaves, four, six, and sometimes twelve in number, dipped and drew their flashing paddles in faultless time, and shone afar brilliant in livery. So, when the multitude of vessels cleared the city walls, and with music and songs dashed into the open lake, the very water seemed to dance and quiver with a sensuous pleasure.
In such style did Montezuma one pleasant morning leave his capital. Calm was the lake, and so clear that the reflection of the sky above seemed a bed of blue below. There were music, and shouts, and merry songs, and from the city the cheers and plaudits of the thousands who, from the walls and housetops, witnessed the pageant. And his canoe was the soul of the pomp, and he had with him his favorite minstrel and jester, and Maxtla; yet there was something on his mind that made him indifferent to the scene and prospective sport. Some distance out, by his direction, the slaves so manœuvred that all the flotilla passed him; then he said to Maxtla, “The will has left me. I will not hunt to-day; yet the pastime must go on; a recall now were unkingly. Look out for a way to follow the train, while I return.”
The chief arose, and swept the lake with a bright glance. “Yonder is a chinampa; I can take its master’s canoe.”
“Do so. Give this ring to the lord Cuitlahua, and tell him to conduct the hunt.”
And soon Maxtla was hurrying to the north with the signet, while the monarch was speeding more swiftly to the south.
“For Iztapalapan,” said the latter to his slaves. “Take me there before the lords reach the hunting-grounds, and you shall have a feast to-night.”
They bent to the paddles, and rested not until he saw the white houses of the city, built far into the lake in imitation of the capital.
“Not to the town, but the palace of Guatamozin,” he then said. “Speed! the sun is rising high.”
Arrived at the landing, Montezuma set forward alone to the palace. The path led into a grove of cedar and wild orange-trees, interspersed with ceibas, the true kings of the forests of New Mexico. The air was sweet with perfume; birds sang to each other from the coverts; the adjacent cascades played their steady, muffled music; and altogether morning on the lake was less beautiful than morning in the tzin’s garden. In the multitude of walks he became bewildered; but, as he was pleased by all he beheld, he walked on without consulting the sun. At length, guided by the sound of voices, he came to the arena for martial games; and there he found Hualpa and Io’ practising with the bow.
He had been wont to regard Io’ as a child, unripe for any but childish amusements, and hardly to be trusted alone. Absorbed in his business of governing, he had not observed how increase of years brought the boy strength, stature, and corresponding tastes. Now he was admonished of his neglect: the stripling should have been familiarized with bow, sling, and maquahuitl; men ought to have been given him for comrades; the warrior’s school, even the actual field, had been better for him than the nursery. An idea of ambition also occurred to the monarch. When he himself was gathered to his fathers, who was to succeed him on the throne? Cuitlahua, Cacama, the lord of Tlacopan? Why not Io’?
Meanwhile the two diligently pursued their sport. At the moment the king came upon them, Hualpa was giving some directions as to the mode of holding the brave weapon. The boy listened eagerly,—a sign that pleased the observer, for nothing is so easy as to flatter the hope of a dreamy heart. Observing them further, he saw Io’ take the stand, draw the arrow quite to the head, and strike the target. At the second trial, he pierced the centre. Hualpa embraced the scholar joyously; and thereupon the king warmed toward the warrior, and tears blinded his eyes. Advancing into the arena, the clanging of his golden sandals announced his presence.
And they knelt and kissed the earth.
“Stand up!” he said, with the smile which gave his countenance a womanly beauty. And to Hualpa he added, “I thought your palace by Chapultepec would be more attractive than the practice of arms; more credit should have been given the habits of a hunter. I was right to make you noble. But what can you make of Io’?”
“If you will give the time, O king, I can make him of excellent skill.”
“And what says the son of Tecalco?”
Io’ knelt again, saying, “I have a pardon to ask—”
“A pardon! For wishing to be a warrior?”
“If the king will hear me,—I have heard you say that in your youth you divided your days between the camp and the temples, learning at the same time the duties of the priest and the warrior. That I may be able some day to serve you, O king, I have stolen away from Tenochtitlan—”
Montezuma laid his hand tenderly on the boy’s head, and said, “No more. I know all you would say, and will ask the great Huitzil’ to give you strength and courage. Take my permission to be a warrior. Arise, now, and give me the bow. It is long since I pulled the cord, and my hand may have weakened, and my eyes become dim; but I challenge you both! I have a shield wrought of pearl and gold, unfit for the field, yet beautiful as a prize of skill. Who plants an arrow nearest yon target’s heart, his the shield shall be.”
The challenge was accepted, and after preparation, the monarch dropped his mantle, and took the stand. He drew the shaft to his ear with a careless show of skill; and when it quivered in the target about a palm’s breadth below the mark, he said, laughing, “I am at least within the line of the good bowman. A Tlascalan would not have escaped scarless.”
Io’ next took the bow, and was so fortunate as to hit the lower edge of the heart squarely above the king’s bolt.
“Mine is the shield, mine is the shield!” he cried, exultantly. “O that a minstrel were here! I would have a song,—my first song!”
“Very proud!” said the king, good-humoredly. “Know you, boy, the warrior counts his captives only when the battle is ended. Here, lord Hualpa, the boaster should be beaten. Prove your quality. To you there may be more in this trial than a song or a golden shield.”
The hunter took the vacant place; his arrow whistled away, and the report came back from the target. By a happy accident, if such it were, the copper point was planted exactly in the middle of the space between the other two.
More joyous than before arose the cry of Io’, “I have beaten a king and a warrior! Mine is the shield, mine is the shield!”
And the king, listening, said to himself, “I remember my own youth, and its earliest victory, and how I passed from successes at first the most trifling. Ah! who but Huitzil’, father of all the gods, can tell the end? Blessed the day when I can set before him the prospect of a throne instead of a shield!”
The target was brought him, and he measured the distance of each arrow from the centre; and when he saw how exactly Hualpa’s was planted between the others, his subtile mind detected the purpose and the generosity.
“The victory is yours, O my son, and so is the shield,” he said, slowly and thoughtfully. “But ah! were it given you to look with eyes like mine,—with eyes sharpened by age for the discovery of blessings, your rejoicing would be over a friend found, whose love is proof against vanity and the hope of reward.”
Hualpa understood him, and was proud. What was the prize lost to Montezuma gained?
“It grows late; my time is sacred,” said the king. “Lord Hualpa, stay and guide me to the palace. And Io’, be you my courier to the ’tzin. Go before, and tell him I am coming.”
The boy ran ahead, and as they leisurely followed him, the monarch relapsed into melancholy. In the shade of a ceiba tree he stopped, and said, “There is a service you might do me, that lies nearer my heart than any other.”
“The will of the great king is mine,” Hualpa replied, with a low reverence.
“When I am old,” pursued Montezuma, “when the things of earth begin to recede from me, it would be pleasant to have a son worthy to lift the Empire from my shoulders. While I am going up the steps of the temple, a seeker of the holy peace that lies in worship and prayer, the government would not then be a care to disturb me. But I am sensible that no one could thus relieve me unless he had the strong hand of a warrior, and was fearless except of the gods. Io’ is my only hope. From you he first caught the desire of greatness, and you can make him great. Take him as a comrade; love him as a brother; teach him the elements of war,—to wield spear and maquahuitl; to bear shield, to command, and to be brave and generous. Show him the ways of ambition. Above all,”—as he spoke he raised his head and hand, and looked the impersonation of his idea,—“above all, let him know that a king may find his glory as much in the love of his people as in his power. Am I understood?”
Hualpa did not look up, but said, “Am I worthy? I have the skill of hand; but have I the learning?”
“To make him learned belongs to the priests. I only asked you to make him a warrior.”
“Does not that belong to the gods?”
“No: he derives nothing from them but the soul. They will not teach him to launch the arrow.”
“Then I accept the charge. Shall he go with me?”
“Always,—even to battle.”
O mighty king! was the shadow of the coming fate upon thy spirit then?
CHAPTER II.
THE KING AND THE ’TZIN
The visit was unexpected to Guatamozin, and its object a mystery; but he thought only of paying the guest meet honor and respect, for he was still the great king. And so, bareheaded and unarmed, he went forth, and meeting him in the garden, knelt, and saluted him after the manner of the court.
“I am glad to say the word of welcome to my father’s brother. Know, O king, that my house, my garden, and all you behold are yours.”
Hualpa left them; then Montezuma replied, the sadness of his voice softening the austerity of his manner,—
“I have loved you well, Guatamozin. Very good it was to mark you come up from boyhood, and day by day grow in strength and thought. I never knew one so rich in promise. Ours is a proud race, and you seemed to have all its genius. From the beginning you were thoughtful and provident; in the field there was always a victory for you, and in council your words were the soul of policy. O, ill was the day evil came between us, and suspicion shattered the love I bore you! Arise! I have not crossed the lake for explanations; there is that to speak of more important to us both.”
The ’tzin arose, and looked into the monarch’s face, his own suffused with grief.
“Is not a king punished for the wrong he does?”
Montezuma’s brows lowered, chilling the fixed look which was his only answer; and the ’tzin spoke on.
“I cannot accuse you directly; but this I will say, O king: a just man, and a brave, never condemns another upon suspicion.”
The monarch’s eyes blazed with sudden fire, and from his maxtlatl he drew a knife. The ’tzin moved not; the armed hand stopped; an instant each met the other’s gaze, then the weapon was flung away.
“I am a child,” said the king, vexed and ashamed. “When I came here I did not think of the past, I thought only of the Empire; but trouble has devoured my strength of purpose, until my power mocks me, and, most miserable of men, I yearn to fly from myself, without knowing where to find relief. A vague impulse—whence derived, except from intolerable suffering of mind, I know not—brought me to you. O ’tzin, silent be the differences that separate us. Yours I know to be a tongue of undefiled truth; and if not for me now, for our country, and the renown of our fathers, I believe you will speak.”
The shame, the grief, and the self-accusation moved the ’tzin more than the deadly menace.
“Set my feet, O king! set my feet in the way to serve or save my country, and I will tread it, though every step be sown with the terrors of Mictlan.”
“I did not misjudge you, my son,” the king said, when he had again perfectly mastered his feelings.
And Guatamozin, yet more softened, would have given him all the old love, but that Tula, contracted to the Tezcucan, rose to memory. Checking the impulse, he regarded the unhappy monarch sorrowfully.
And the latter, glancing up at the sun, said,—
“It is getting late. I left the train going to the hunting-grounds. By noon they will return, and I wish to be at the city before them. My canoe lies at the landing; walk there with me, and on the way I will speak of the purpose of my visit.”
Their steps as they went were slow, and their faces downcast and solemn. The king was first to speak.
“As the time requires, I have held many councils, and taken the voice of priest, warrior, and merchant; and they agree in nothing but their confusion and fear.”
“The king forgets,—I have been barred his councils, and know not what they considered.”
“True, true; yet there is but one topic in all Anahuac,—in the Empire. Of that, the tamanes talk gravely as their masters; only one class asks, ‘Who are the white men making all this trouble?’ while the other argues, ‘They are here; they are gods. What are we to do?’”
“And what say the councils, O king?”
“It could not be that all would speak as one man. Of different castes, they are differently moved. The pabas believe the Sun has sent us some godly warriors, whom nothing earthly can subdue. They advise patience, friendship, and peace. ‘The eye of Huitzil’ is on them, numbering their marches. In the shade of the great temple he awaits, and there he will consume them with a breath,’—so say the pabas. The warriors are dumb, or else borrow and reassert the opinions of the holy men. ‘Give them gold, if they will depart; if not that, give them peace, and leave the issue to the gods,’—so they say. Cuitlahua says war; so does Cacama. The merchants and the people have no opinion,—nothing but fear. For myself, yesterday I was for war, to-day I am for peace. So far I have chosen to act upon the advice of the pabas. I have sent the strangers many presents and friendly messages, and kept ambassadors in their camp; but while preserving such relations, I have continually forbade their coming to Tenochtitlan. They seem bolder than men. Who but they would have undertaken the march from Cempoalla? What tribes or people could have conquered Tlascala, as they have? You have heard of their battles. Did they not in a day what we have failed to do in a hundred years? With Tlascala for ally, they have set my word at naught, and, whether they be of the sun or the earth, they are now marching upon Cholula, most sacred city of the gods. And from Cholula there is but one more march. Already from the mountains they have looked wistfully down on our valley of gardens, upon Tenochtitlan. O ’tzin, ’tzin, can we forget the prophecy?”
“Shall I say what I think? Will the king hear me?” asked Guatamozin.
“For that I came. Speak!”
“I obey gladly. The opportunity is dearer to me than any honor. And, speaking, I will remember of what race I am.”
“Speak as if you were king.”
“Then—I condemn your policy.”
The monarch’s face remained placid. If the bluff words wounded him, he dissembled consummately.
“It was not well to go so often to the temple,” Guatamozin continued. “Huitzil’ is not there; the pabas have only his name, his image and altar; your breast is his true temple; there ought you to find him. Yesterday, you say, you were for war; the god was with you then: to-day you are for peace; the god has abandoned you. I know not in what words the lords Cuitlahua and Cacama urged their counsel, nor on what grounds. By the Sun! theirs is the only policy that comports with the fame of a ruler of Aztecs. Why speak of any other? For me, I would seek the strangers in battle and die, sooner than a minstrel should sing, or tradition tell, how Guatamozin, overcome by fear, dwelt in their camp praying peace as the beggar prays for bread.”
Literally, Guatamozin was speaking like a king.
“I have heard your pearl-divers say,” he continued, “that they never venture into a strange sea without dread. Like the new sea to them, this subject has been to your people; but however the declaration may strike your ears, O king, I have sounded all its depths. While your priests were asking questions of speechless hearts; while your lords were nursing their love of ease in the shade and perfume of your palace; while your warriors, forgetful of their glory, indulged the fancy that the new enemy were gods; while Montezuma was watching stars, and studying omens, and listening to oracles which the gods know not, hoping for wisdom to be found nowhere as certainly as in his own royal instincts,—face to face with the strangers, in their very camp, I studied them, their customs, language, and nature. Take heart, O king! Gods, indeed! Why, like men, I have seen them hunger and thirst; like men, heard them complain; on the other hand, like men, I have seen them feed and drink to surfeit, and heard them sing from gladness. What means their love of gold? If they come from the Sun, where the dwellings of the gods, and the hills they are built on, are all of gold, why should they be seeking it here? Nor is that all. I listened to the interpreter, through whom their leader explained his religion, and they are worshippers, like us, only they adore a woman, instead of a great, heroic god—”
“A woman!” exclaimed the king.
“Nay, the argument is that they worship at all. Gods do not adore each other!”
They had now walked some distance, and so absorbed had Montezuma been that he had not observed the direction they were pursuing. Emerging suddenly from a cypress-grove, he was surprised to find the path terminate in a small lake, which, at any other time, would have excited his admiration. Tall trees, draped to their topmost boughs in luxuriant vines, encircled the little expanse of water, and in its midst there was an island, crowned with a kiosk or summer-house, and covered with orange shrubs and tapering palms.
“Bear with me, O king,” said Guatamozin, observing his wonder. “I brought you here that you may be absolutely convinced of the nature of our enemies. On that island I have an argument stronger than the vagaries of pabas or the fancies of warriors,—a visible argument.”
He stepped into a canoe lying at the foot of the path, and, with a sweep of the paddle, drove across to the island. Remaining there, he pushed the vessel back.
“Come over, O king, come over, and see.”
Montezuma followed boldly, and was led to the kiosk. The retreat was not one of frequent resort. Several times they were stopped by vines grown across the path. Inside the house, the visitor had no leisure for observation; he was at once arrested by an object that filled him with horror. On a table was a human head. Squarely severed from the body, it stood upright on the base of the neck, looking, with its ghastly, white face, directly toward the entrance. The features were swollen and ferocious; the black brows locked in a frown, with which, as was plainly to be seen, nature had as much to do as death; the hair was short, and on the crown almost worn away; heavy, matted beard covered the cheeks and chin; finally, other means of identification being wanted, the coarse, upturned mustache would have betrayed the Spaniard. Montezuma surveyed the head for some time; at length, mastering his deep loathing, he advanced to the table.
