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

“In presence, then, of all the pabas, the sacrifices were begun. I counted the victims,—nine hundred in all. The afternoon and night, and to-day, to the time of our departure, the service lasted. The sound of prayer from the holy men was unintermitted and loud. I looked once to the palace of Axaya’, and saw the azoteas crowded with the strangers and their Tlascalans.”

The king and the lord Cuitlahua exchanged glances of satisfaction.

“At last the labors of the teotuctli were rewarded. I saw him tear a heart from a victim’s breast, and study the signs; then, with a loud cry, he ran and flung the heart into the fire before the altar of Huitzil’; and all there joined in the cry, which was of rejoicing, and washed their hands in the blood. The holy man then came to me, and said, ‘Say to Montezuma, the wise king, that Huitzil’, the Supreme God, has answered, and bids him begin the war. Say to him, also, to be of cheer; for the land shall be delivered from the strangers, and the strangers shall be delivered to him, in trust for the god.’ Then he stood in the door of the sanctuary, and made proclamation of the divine will. And that was all, O king.”

“To Huitzil’ be the praise!” exclaimed the king, piously.

“And to Montezuma the glory!” said Cuitlahua.

And the queens and Tula kissed the monarch’s hand, and at his feet Io’ knelt, and laid his shield, saying,—

“A favor, O king, a favor!”

“Well.”

“Let not my years be counted, but give me a warrior’s part in the sacred war.”

And Cuitlahua went to the suppliant, and laid a hand upon his head, and said, his massive features glowing with honest pride, “It was well spoken, O my brother, well spoken. The blood and spirit of our race will survive us. I, the oldest, rejoice, and, with the youngest, pray; give us each to do a warrior’s part.”

Brighter grew the monarch’s eyes.

“Your will be done,” he said to Io’. “Arise!” Then looking toward the sun, he added, with majestic fervor, “The inspiration is from you, O holy gods! strengthen it, I pray, and help him in the way he would go.” A moment after, he turned to Cuitlahua, “My brother, have your wish also. I give you the command. You have my signet already. To-morrow the drum of Huitzil’ will be beaten. At the sound, let the bridges next the palace of Axaya’ on all the causeways be taken up. Close the market to-night. Supplies for one day more Malinche may have, and that is all. Around the teocallis, in hearing of a shell, are ten thousand warriors; take them, and, after the beating of the drum, see that the strangers come not out of the palace, and that nothing goes through its gates for them. But until the signal, let there be friendship and perfect peace. And”—he looked around slowly and solemnly—“what I have here spoken is between ourselves and the gods.”

And Cuitlahua knelt and kissed his hand, in token of loyalty.

While the scene was passing, as the only one present not of the royal family, Hualpa stood by, with downcast eyes; and as he listened to the brave words of the king, involving so much of weal or woe to the realm, he wondered at the fortune which had brought him such rich confidence, not as the slow result of years of service, but, as it were, in a day. Suddenly, the monarch turned to him.

“Thanks are not enough, lord Hualpa, for the report you bring. As a messenger between me and the mighty Huitzil’, you shall have reason to rejoice with us. Lands and rank you have, and a palace; now,”—a smile broke through his seriousness,—“now I will give you a wife. Here she is.” And to the amazement of all, he pointed to Nenetzin. “A wild bird, by the Sun! What say you, lord Hualpa? Is she not beautiful? Yet,” he became grave in an instant, “I warn you that she is self-willed, and spoiled, and now suffers from a distemper which she fancies to be love. I warn you, lest one of the enemy, of whom we were but now talking, lure her from you, as he seems to have lured her from us and our gods. To save her, and place her in good keeping, as well as to bestow a proper reward, I will give her to you for wife.”

Tecalco looked at Acatlan, who governed her feelings well; possibly she was satisfied, for the waywardness of the girl had, of late, caused her anxiety, while, if not a prince, like Cacama, Hualpa was young, brave, handsome, ennobled, and, as the proposal itself proved, on the high road to princely honors. Tula openly rejoiced; so did Io’. The lord Cuitlahua was indifferent; his new command, and the prospects of the morrow, so absorbed him that a betrothal or a wedding was a trifle. As for Hualpa, it was as if the flowery land of the Aztec heaven had opened around him. He was speechless; but in the step half taken, his flushed face, his quick breathing, Nenetzin read all he could have said, and more; and so he waited a sign from her,—a sign, though but a glance or a motion of the lip or hand. And she gave him a smile,—not like that the bold Spaniard received on the temple, nor warm, as if prompted by the loving soul,—a smile, witnessed by all present, and by all accepted as her expression of assent.

“I will give her to you for wife,” the monarch repeated, slowly and distinctly. “This is the betrothal; the wedding shall be when the war is over, when not a white-faced stranger is left in all my domain.”

While yet he spoke, Nenetzin ran to her mother, and hid her face in her bosom.

“Listen further, lord Hualpa,” said the king. “In the great business of to-morrow I give you a part. At daylight return to the temple, and remain there in the turret where hangs the drum of Huitzil’. Io’ will come to you about noon, with my command; then, if such be its effect, with your own hand give the signal for which the lord Cuitlahua will be waiting. Strike so as to be heard by the city, and by the cities on the shores of the lake. Afterwards, with Io’, go to the lord Cuitlahua. Here is the signet again. The teotuctli may want proof of your authority.”

Hualpa, kneeling to receive the seal, kissed the monarch’s hand.

“And now,” the latter said, addressing himself to Cuitlahua, “the interview is ended. You have much to do. Go. The gods keep you.”

Hualpa, at last released, went and paid homage to his betrothed, and was made still more happy by her words, and the congratulations of the queens.

Tula alone lingered at the king’s side, her large eyes fixed appealingly on his face.

“What now, Tula?” he asked, tenderly.

And she answered, “You have need, O king and good father, of faithful, loving warriors. I know of one. He should be here, but is not. Of to-morrow, its braveries and sacrifices, the minstrels will sing for ages to come; and the burden of their songs will be how nobly the people fought, and died, and conquered for you. Shall the opportunity be for all but him? Do not so wrong yourself, be not so cruel to—to me,” she said, clasping her hands.

His look of tenderness vanished, and he walked away, and from the parapet of the azoteas gazed long and fixedly, apparently observing the day dying in the west, or the royal gardens that stretched out of sight from the base of the castled hill.

She waited expectantly, but no answer came,—none ever came.

And when, directly, she joined the group about Nenetzin and Hualpa, and leaned confidingly upon Io’, she little thought that his was the shadow darkening her love; that the dreamy monarch, looking forward to the succession, saw, in the far future, a struggle for the crown between the prince and the ’tzin; that for the former hope there was not, except in what might now be done; and that yet there was not hope, if the opportunities of war were as open to the one as to the other. So the exile continued.

CHAPTER VIII

THE IRON CROSS COMES BACK TO ITS GIVER

Admitting that the intent with which the Spaniards came to Tenochtitlan took from them the sanctity accorded by Christians to guests, and at the same time justified any measure in prevention,—a subject belonging to the casuist rather than the teller of a story,—their situation has now become so perilous, and possibly so interesting to my sympathetic reader, that he may be anxious to enter the old palace, and see what they are doing.

The dull report of the evening gun had long since spent itself over the lake, and along the gardened shores. So, too, mass had been said in the chapel, newly improvised, and very limited for such high ceremony; yet, as Father Bartolomé observed, roomy enough for prayer and penitence. Nor had the usual precautions against surprise been omitted; on the contrary, extra devices in that way had been resorted to; the guards had been doubled; the horses stood caparisoned; by the guns at the gates low fires were burning, to light, in an instant, the matches of the gunners; and at intervals, under cover of the walls, lay or lounged detachments of both Christians and Tlascalans, apparently told off for battle. A yell without or a shot within, and the palace would bristle with defenders. A careful captain was Cortes.

In his room, once the audience-chamber of the kings, paced the stout conquistador. He was alone, and, as usual, in armor, except of the head and hands. On a table were his helm, iron gloves, and battle-axe, fair to view, as was the chamber, in the cheerful, ruddy light of a brazen lamp. As he walked, he used his sword for staff; and its clang, joined to the sharp concussion of the sollerets smiting the tessellated floor at each step, gave notice in the adjoining chamber, and out in the patio, that the general—or, as he was more familiarly called, the Señor Hernan—was awake and uncommonly restless. After a while the curtains of the doorway parted, and Father Bartolomé entered without challenge. The good man was clad in a cassock of black serge, much frayed, and girt to the waist by a leathern belt, to which hung an ivory cross, and a string of amber beads. At sight of him, Cortes halted, and, leaning on his sword, said, “Bring thy bones here, father; or, if such womanly habit suit thee better, rest them on the settle yonder. Anyhow, thou’rt welcome. I assure thee of the fact in advance of thy report.”

“Thank thee, Señor,” he replied. “The cross, as thou mayst have heard, is proverbially heavy; but its weight is to the spirit, not the body, like the iron with which thou keep’st thyself so constantly clothed. I will come and stand by thee, especially as my words must be few, and to our own ears.”

He went near, and continued in a low voice, and rapidly, “A deputation, appointed to confer with thee, is now coming. I sounded the men. I told them our condition; how we are enclosed in the city, dependent upon an inconstant king for bread, without hope of succor, without a road of retreat. Following thy direction, I drew the picture darkly. Very soon they began asking, ‘What think’st thou ought to be done?’ As agreed between us, I suggested the seizure of Montezuma. They adopted the idea instantly; and, that no consideration like personal affection for the king may influence thee to reject the proposal, the deputation cometh, with Diaz del Castillo at the head.”

A gleam of humor twinkled in Cortes’s eyes.

“Art sure they do not suspect me as the author of the scheme?”

“They will urge it earnestly as their own, and support it with arguments which”—the father paused a moment—“I am sure thou wilt find irresistible.”

Cortes raised himself from the sword, and indulged a laugh while he crossed the room and returned.

“I thank thee, father,” he said, resuming his habitual gravity. “So men are managed; nothing more simple, if we do but know how. The project hath been in my mind since we left Tlascala; but, as thou know’st, I feared it might be made of account against me with our imperial master. Now, it cometh back as business of urgency to the army, to which men think I cannot say nay. Let them come; I am ready.”

He began walking again, thumping the floor with his sword, while Olmedo took possession of a bench by the table. Presently, there was heard at the door the sound of many feet, which you may be sure were not those of slippered damsels; for, at the bidding of Cortes, twelve soldiers came in, followed by several officers, and after them yet other soldiers. The general went to the table and seated himself. They ranged themselves about him, standing.

And for a time the chamber went back to its primitive use; but what were the audiences of Axaya’ compared with this? Here was no painted cotton, or feather-work gaudy with the spoils of humming-birds and parrots: in their stead, the gleam and lustre blent with the brown of iron. One such Christian warrior was worth a hundred heathen chiefs. So thought Cortes, as he glanced at the faces before him, bearded, mustachioed, and shaded down to the eyes by well-worn morions.

“Good evening, gentlemen and soldiers,” he said, kindly, but without a bow. “This hath the appearance of business.”

Diaz advanced a step, and replied,—

“Señor, we are a deputation from the army, appointed to beg attention to a matter which to us looketh serious; enough so, at least, to justify this appearance. We have been, and are, thy faithful soldiers, in whom thou mayst trust to the death, as our conduct all the way from the coast doth certify. Nor do we come to complain; on that score be at rest. But we are men of experience; a long campaign hath given us eyes to see and ability to consider a situation; while we submit willingly to all thy orders, trusting in thy superior sense, we yet think thou wilt not take it badly, nor judge us wanting in discipline and respect, if we venture the opinion that, despite the courtesies and fair seeming of the unbelieving king, Montezuma, we are, in fact, cooped up in this strong city as in a cage.”

“I see the business already,” said Cortes; “and, by my conscience! ye are welcome to help me consider it. Speak out, Bernal Diaz.”

“Thank thee, Señor. The question in our minds is, What shall be done next? We know that but few things bearing anywise upon our expedition escape thy eyes, and that of what is observed by thee nothing is forgotten; therefore, what I wish, first, is to refer some points to thy memory. When we left Cuba, we put ourselves in the keeping of the Holy Virgin, without any certain purpose. We believed there was in this direction somewhere a land peopled and full of gold for the finding. Of that we were assured when we set out from the coast to come here. And now that we are come, safe from so many dangers, and hardships, and battles, we think it no shame to admit that we were not prepared for what we find, so far doth the fact exceed all our imaginings; neither can we be charged justly with weakness or fear, if we all desire to know whether the expedition is at an end, and whether the time hath arrived to collect our gains, and divide them, and set our faces homeward. There are in the army some who think that time come; but I, and my associates here, are not of that opinion. We believe with Father Olmedo, that God and the Holy Mother brought us to this land, and that we are their instruments; and that, in reward for our toils, and for setting up the cross in all these abominable temples, and bringing about the conversion of these heathen hordes, the country, and all that is in it, are ours.”

“They are ours!” cried Cortes, dashing his sword against the floor until the chamber rang. “They are ours, all ours; subject only to the will of our master, the Emperor.”

The latter words he said slowly, meaning that they should be remembered.

“We are glad, Señor, to hear thy approval so heartily given,” Diaz resumed. “If we are not mistaken in the opinion, and, following it up, decide to reduce the country to possession and the true belief,—something, I confess, not difficult to determine, since we have no ships in which to sail away,—then we think a plan of action should be adopted immediately. If the reduction can be best effected from the city, let us abide here, by all means; if not, the sooner we are beyond the dikes and bridges, and out of the valley, the better. Whether we shall remain, Señor, is for thee to say. The army hath simply chosen us to make a suggestion, which we hope thou wilt accept as its sense; and that is, to seize the person of Montezuma, and bring him to these quarters, after which there will be no difficulty in providing for our wants and safety, and controlling, as may be best, the people, the city, the provinces, and all things else yet undiscovered.”