The Fair God; or, The Last of the 'Tzins

“Of unknown metal,—a symbol of religion! Where is the marvel now?”

“Around the child’s neck, where I believe it has been since she came from the temple. Once she allowed me to see if I could tell what the metal was, but only for a moment, and then her eyes never quit me. She sits hours by herself, with the bauble clasped in both hands, and sighs, and mopes, and has no interest in what used to please her most.”

The king mused awhile. The power of the strangers was very great; what if the gift was the secret of the power?

“Go, Acatlan,” he said, “and call Nenetzin. See that she brings the charm with her.”

Then he arose, and began moodily to walk. Cuitlahua talked with Tecalco and Tula. The hour was very pleasant. The sun, lingering above the horizon, poured a flood of brilliance upon the hill and palace, and over the flowers, trailing vines, and dwarfed palm and banana trees, with which the azoteas was provided.

Upon the return of the queen with Nenetzin, the king resumed his seat. The girl knelt before him, her face very pale, her eyes full of tears. So lately a child, scarce a woman, yet so weighted with womanly griefs, the father could not view her except with compassion; so he raised her, and, holding her hand, said, “What is this I hear, Nenetzin? Yesterday I was thinking of sending you to school. Nowadays lovers are very exacting; they require of their sweethearts knowledge as well as beauty; but you outrun my plans, you have a lover already. Is it so?”

Nenetzin looked down, blushing.

“And no common lover either,” continued the king. “Not a ’tzin, or a cacique, or a governor; not a lord or a prince,—a god! Brave child!”

Still Nenetzin was silent.

“You cannot call your lover by name, nor speak to him in his language; nor can he speak to you in yours. Talking by signs must be tedious for the uses of love, which I understand to be but another name for impatience; yet you are far advanced; you have seen your beloved, talked with him, and received—what?”

Nenetzin clasped the iron cross upon her breast firmly,—not as a good Catholic, seeking its protection; for she would have laid the same hands on Alvarado rather than Christ,—and for the first time she looked in the questioner’s face straight and fearlessly. A moment he regarded her; in the moment his smile faded away; and for her it came never again—never.

“Give me what you have there,” he said sternly, extending his hand.

“It is but a simple present,” she said, holding back.

“No, it has to do with religion, and that not of our fathers.”

“It is mine,” she persisted, and the queen mother turned pale at sight of her firmness.

“The child is bewitched,” interposed Cuitlahua.

“And for that I should have the symbol. Obey me, or—”

Awed by the look, now dark with anger, Nenetzin took the chain from her neck, and put the cross in his hand. “There! I pray you, return them to me.”

Now, the cross, as a religious symbol, was not new to the monarch; in Cozumel it was an object of worship; in Tabasco it had been reverenced for ages as emblematic of the God of Rain; in Palenque, the Palmyra of the New World, it is sculptured on the fadeless walls, and a child held up to adore it (in the same picture) proves its holy character; it was not new to the heathen king; but the cross of Christ was; and singularly enough, he received the latter for the first time with no thought of saving virtues, but as a problem in metallurgy.

“To-morrow I will send the trinkets to the jewellers,” he said, after close examination. “They shall try them in the fire. Strange, indeed, if, in all my dominions, they do not find whereof they are made.”

He was about to pass the symbol to Maxtla, when a messenger came up, and announced the lord Hualpa and the prince Io’. Instantly, the cross, and Nenetzin, and her tears and troubles, vanished out of his mind.

CHAPTER VII

THE CHRISTIANS IN THE TOILS

“Let the azoteas be cleared of all but my family. You, my brother, will remain.”

So saying, the king arose, and began walking again. As he did so, the cross slipped from his fingers, and fell, ringing sharply upon the roof. Nenetzin sprang forward and picked the symbol up.

“Now, call the messengers.”

When the chief was gone, the monarch stepped to Cuitlahua, and, laying a hand upon his arm, said, “At last, O brother, at last! The time so long prayed for is come. The enemy is in the snare, and he is mine. So the god of our fathers has promised. The messengers bring me his permission to make war.”

“At last! Praised be Huitzil’!” exclaimed Cuitlahua, with upraised hands and eyes.

“Praised be Huitzil’!” cried Tula, with equal fervor.

“Malinche began his march to Tenochtitlan against my order, which, for a purpose, I afterwards changed to invitation. Since that, my people, my army, the lords, the pabas, the Empire, have upbraided me for weakness. I only bided my time, and the assent of Huitzil’. And the result? The palace of Axaya’ shall be the tomb of the insolent strangers.”

As he spoke, the monarch’s bosom swelled with the old warrior spirit.

“You would have had me go meet Malinche, and in the open field array my people to be trodden down by his beasts of war. Now, ours is the advantage. We will shut him in with walls of men as well as of houses. Over them he may ride, but the first bridge will be the end of his journey; it will be raised. Mictlan take our legions, if they cannot conquer him at last!”

He laughed scornfully.

“In the temples are seventy thousand fighting men, gathered unknown to all but Tlalac. They are tired of their prison, and cry for freedom and battle. Two other measures taken, and the war begins,—only two. Malinche has no stores; he is dependent upon me for to-morrow’s bread. What if I say, not a grain of corn, not a mouthful of meat shall pass his palace gate? As to the other step,—what if I bid you raise the bridges? What then? His beasts must starve; so must his people, unless they can fly. Let him use his engines of fire; the material he serves them with cannot last always, so that want will silence them also. The measures depend on my word, which, by the blessing of Huitzil’, I will speak, and”—

“When?” asked Cuitlahua, earnestly.

“To-morrow—”

“The day,—O my kingly brother!—the day will be memorable in Anahuac forever!”

The monarch’s eyes flashed with evil fire. “It shall be so. Part of the invaders will not content me; none shall escape,—not one! In the world shall not one be left!”

All present listened eagerly. Nenetzin alone gave no sign of feeling, though she heard every word.

The couriers now appeared. Over their uniforms was the inevitable nequen. Instead of helms, they wore broad bands, ornamented with plumes and brilliants. At their backs hung their shields. The prince, proud and happy, kissed his mother’s hand, and nodded to the sisters. Hualpa went to the king, and knelt in salute.

“I have been waiting since noon,” said Montezuma, coldly.

“We pray your pardon, O king, good master. The fault was not ours. Since yesterday at noon we have not ate or drank or slept; neither have we been out of the great temple, except to embark and come here, which was with all possible speed.”

“It is well. Arise! What says the god?”

Every ear was strained to hear.

“We followed your orders in all things, O king. In the temple we found the teotuctli, and the pabas of the city, with many from Tezcuco and Cholula.”

“Saw you Mualox, of the old Cû of Quetzal’?”

“Mualox was not there.”

The king waved his hand.

“We presented ourselves to the teotuctli, and gave him your message; in proof of our authority, we showed him the signet, which we now return.”

The seal was taken in silence.