The laws by which the nations of Anahuac were governed were comprehensive as well as very severe. Every subject was expected to have knowledge of them, and the people were, accordingly, instructed in them by means of hieroglyphical paintings.
Crimes against society were punished with slavery or death, according to the magnitude of the offense. Theft and robbery were placed in this category, and met with the severest punishment. If the accused was found guilty, his fate was sealed; there was no escape from the penalty, so rigidly were the laws enforced.
These conditions, together with the strict surveillance of the military police, made it hazardous for any one to be abroad at night, unless adequate reason for it could be made apparent.
Protected in this thorough manner, the people had no fear of depredators, and took no precautions against them. No bolts, bars or other fastenings, as a protection, were to be found on their doors, when doors were used; in fact, more times than otherwise, only a curtain shielded the privacy of a home from the outside world. They felt as secure with an open door as the most enlightened Christian citizen would amid the highest order of civilization, behind his locks and bolts, supplemented by the latest improved burglar-alarm.
We now return to Zelmonco villa. We find it wrapped in deepest silence; the inmates are lost in the oblivion of sleep; the birds that make glad its environs under the light of day are perched in confidence and security on their chosen limb. The hour is that in which Nature wraps with sleep her children closest 'round about—the midnight hour, silent and solemn.
At this unseemly time two shadowy forms steal noiselessly into the park at the foot of the hill, and pause in an attitude of listening. No sound is heard, save the beating of a heart by each. After satisfying themselves that no living thing is astir within their hearing, they move cautiously up toward the house; and presently, when near its entrance, pass within the protecting shadow of a thickly foliaged tree and stop.
Before leaving the weaver's cottage, Hualcoyotl had decided to stop at Zelmonco villa, where he purposed remaining over one day, while Oza would be sent on to communicate with a good friend—a loyal Tezcucan who lived a short day's journey toward the mountains—to inform him of the prince's perilous situation and desire to find shelter and concealment with him for a few hours.
The night was not dark, for the stars were shining very brightly, as they always seem to in the clear sky of that sunny clime. To the fugitives their luster appeared to be remarkably brilliant, causing them to shun the roadways for fear of discovery and arrest; as a consequence, halts and frequent change of course made their progress slow, and the hour of their arrival at the villa late.
The reader has, no doubt, guessed who it was that entered Zelmonco park at midnight, and, passing up to the villa, paused in the shadow of a tree near its entrance.
The prince's breathing, when they stopped—for it was he and his attendant—was somewhat labored. The long and arduous walk from the city, and the effort required to gain the summit of the hill on which the villa stood, had severely tested the strength of his wind; which, from long confinement and inactivity, had become, in some degree, ennervated. He quickly regained his composure, and, while they yet stood within the tree's shadow, his thoughts turned upon himself and his peculiarly discouraging situation. He mentally soliloquized: "Like a rudderless boat on yonder lake, left to the caprice of the elements, tossed hither and thither by wind and wave, I am out in the world, a fugitive, condemned, driven, I know not whither! Oh, would that I could forecast my destiny and know it, though the worst should be revealed!" After a moment's pause he continued: "Yet, perhaps, it is better as it is: The Great Unseen will keep me if there is a purpose in my life!" Turning to Oza he said, in a subdued voice:
"There is safety in this house, the home of Euetzin, for a short time, if we might enter. Stand you here, while I endeavor to secure the attention of someone." He cautiously advanced to the door, which he found ajar, and gave two or three raps. No answer being obtained, the raps were repeated a little louder.
"Who raps?" suddenly inquired a voice from within.
"A friend of tzin Euet, who would communicate with Teochma, his mother," answered the prince, with caution.
"Stand inside, I will call her," returned the voice, and its owner, as the prince entered, went to summon his mistress.
The person who answered the prince's knock was a slave, whose sleeping-place, for convenience, was near the door.
In a few minutes the tzin's mother appeared, bearing a lighted taper. When she saw the muffled figure near the entrance, she paused and inquired:
"Who seeks to communicate with Teochma?"
"One who is a fugitive, with a price upon his life, comes to ask of Teochma shelter for a short time, until the way is made clear for him to go on," was answered.
"Prince Hualcoyotl!"
"Sh! Have a care, O Teochma; speak not that name so loud, even here, beneath this friendly roof. Walls do not always confine the voice's sound, and the winds are treacherous. Should that name be borne to traitorous ears, and my presence in your house be made known to my pursuers, desolation would surely come upon it, and distress to those it shelters."
The prince had dropped the mantle from about his face, and while he yet spoke Teochma saw that it was indeed the royal friend of her son. From custom she was about to offer him obeisance, but he quickly interposed, and said entreatingly:
"No, Teochma, do not so. Let the good mother of Euetzin treat as a servant, rather, him who stands in her presence. When the winds cease to bear upon their wings the cry of my enslaved and degraded people for deliverance, which rises hourly from a thousand homes, then, and not till then, may he to whom you would do honor receive the homage due his station!" He bowed himself before her in salutation, and continued: "Thus may it be in this hour, good mother of my friend—and mine, I could wish, O Teochma!"
"Rise, my son; it is not fit that you should humble yourself in this manner. Teochma is grateful for your condescension, and is pleased to welcome you to a shelter in her home." Hualcoyotl arose, and she continued: "But come, enter here and be seated," saying which, she motioned for him to pass to an adjoining room.
"Give me yet a moment, good Teochma. There is one without, an attendant, who waits to be called. If it please you, I will bid him come in."
"Assuredly, my son, bid him come."
The door, which the prince had closed, was quietly opened, and Oza directed to enter.
The Anahuacans of the fifteenth century were well skilled in art, both mechanical and decorative. With tools of bronze, made from an alloy of tin and copper, they were enabled, by the use of a flinty powder, to shape the hardest substances into articles of use and adornment.
Vessels of gold and silver were moulded and fashioned by them, having upon them representations of birds, animals, flowers, and other objects; and it is said of their goldsmiths that they could blend the metals in such a manner as to represent the feathers of a bird or the scales of a fish, alternately, in gold and silver.
With their natural fondness for display, and the inexhaustible supply of material for its indulgence at their command, it is not surprising that the homes of the nobility and wealthy were gorgeously magnificent in furnishment, especially in the matter of adornment. And, withal, though none of the modern appliances for the promotion of elegance and ease, which now distinguish the mansions of the opulent, were then at hand, their abodes were not without comfort for the physical man.
As in this age, a reception, or drawing-room was an indispensable apartment in the dwellings of the higher classes, and the completeness of its design and arrangement usually indicated not only the wealth and position of the owner, but, also, the taste and accomplishments of the occupants.
The room into which the prince and his attendant were conducted was a model apartment of its kind, and deserves from us at least a passing notice.
The floor was almost hidden under a profusion of mats and gaily wrought rugs. Fancy stools and comfortable divans were placed about the room in a kind of orderly disorder, relieving it from any appearance of disuse or exclusiveness. Across one corner of the room stood an especially attractive divan, over which was a glittering canopy, suspended from the beak of a deadquanhtli(eagle.) From its elevated perch the bird's appearance was so natural that the first glance at it would cause the observer to hesitate before taking a seat beneath it. A second thought, however, would dispel the momentary delusion. Spread out on this divan was the preserved and decorated skin of a Mexican tiger-cat.
The walls were adorned with gorgeous and beautiful hangings, the scintillating glimmer of the reflected light of the taper upon them, as they were gently moved by the force of a passing draught of air, producing a very agreeable effect.
In every nook and corner were to be seen vases of odorous flowers, and images of animals or birds.
On a wall-shelf, at one side of the room, was a peculiarly attractive pot of flowers, over which, suspended by a thread of gold so fine that it required a sharp eye to detect it, was poised a golden-hued hummingbird, apparently about to thrust its prying nib into the unexplored recesses of a half opened flower just below it.
In a conspicuous place on the wall was a showy piece of feather-work, in which was blended the plumage of many birds. There were in it the changeful hues of the parrot, the brilliant colors of the pheasant, and others less attractive, all woven into a perfect representation of beautiful mosaic.
As the prince took a seat his quick eye observed the exquisite surroundings; and through it all he saw Teochma's experienced hand. His mind reverted quickly to other times—his boyhood, and the home where once ruled a beloved mother, not less accomplished than Teochma. After a moment's silent contemplation of the apartment and its attractions, some of which were still familiar to him, he turned to his hostess and said:
"The span of years which separate this hour from the past, when—a joyous, happy boy—I stood within this room, with no visible cloud upon the bright horizon of my future to warn me of the approaching storm and subsequent night of sorrow and despair which has followed, seems but a delusion—a horrible dream, from which I have only this moment awakened. And yet, O Teochma, my waking may be likened to a lucid interval in the mind of one crazed by delirium or the confusion of reason; for soon the gloom of my impending doom will hold and wrap me about, and this sweet reflection of the happy past be obscured in the blackness of darkness again."
He paused, and, taking advantage of the pause, Teochma said:
"Your presence here at this hour, and the purport of your words, tell me that you are in trouble. Hualcoyotl the boy is lost in Hualcoyotl the stately prince; and our love for the former in profound esteem and respect for the latter. Teochma is your loyal subject and friend; no assistance which is within her power to render shall be withheld from you. Speak, good friend, as would my own son Euet, and make your wants known, that we may serve you."
"I was sure of your sympathy and assistance, else I had not come this way. The fidelity of Teochma, and hers, to the cause of the unfortunate Hualcoyotl is a source of deepest gratitude to him. May the hour come when he can express his gratitude more fittingly than by weak words!"
Here followed a narration of as much of his late experience as was necessary to make his situation known.
Teochma's sympathies were much excited, and the prince was assured of a welcome shelter and concealment at the villa for as long a time as he desired.
"I can only risk a stop of a few hours," said he; "just long enough for my attendant to make arrangements for me a few leagues ahead. The emissaries of Maxtla may yet consider it worth while to pay you a visit in their search for me. Should they do so, no knowledge of my having been here at this time must reach them; for they are heartless, and might cause you serious trouble, if nothing more."
He turned to Oza, and gave him the necessary instructions regarding what he was expected to do; and told him to go at once, and perform the mission quickly as possible. The man cheerfully acquiesced in his master's plans, and, after partaking of refreshments, set out on his journey.
The prince was conducted to an apartment in a retired portion of the villa, where he soon found forgetfulness in sleep.
The morning broke over the beautiful Anahuac in loveliness and splendor. Nature, in all her forms, sent forth anthems of praise to the Almighty Creator. The forests rang with a medley of happy sounds, which rose from myriads of living things—the warbling of the inimitable mockingbird, and the trill and coo of its less melodious neighbors; the chirp and bark of the frisking little animals, together with the incessant whir and hum of the insect hosts—a grand chorus of thanksgiving, spontaneously rendered by an indiscriminate multitude of God's inferior creatures, all filled with the unalloyed happiness of an unconsciousness of evil, an unconsciousness which is denied to man, who is created in the image of his Maker, and endowed with that supreme attribute, the power to reason.
Such was the morning, and the waking it brought, of the day which followed the arrival of Hualcoyotl at Zelmonco villa.
The summons of a servant awoke the prince to a realization of his surroundings. Sounds of joy and life fell upon his ear from without, and stirred his soul with an emotion of sadness.
"Why should I be so environed," he soliloquized, "while all the rest of the world are happy and free? No, not all; my people are neither," he quickly added, as they rose up before his mind's eye in reproval. "Yet," he further added, "their lot is preferable to mine."
Shaking off his unhappy feelings, he performed his morning ablutions and clothed himself preparatory to going into the presence of his hostess.
When he appeared at the door of his apartment he found a servant there, who had been sent to conduct him to the eating-room, where breakfast was waiting, and, better still, the little girl, now grown to woman's stature, with whom he had romped and raced the hillsides over a hundred times in the years of his happy boyhood, also waiting to receive him. But how different were their positions and circumstances at this meeting. Not children, but man and woman, stood face to face.
"Itlza!" exclaimed he, with surprise and admiration depicted on his countenance and expressed in his voice, advancing toward her at the same time.
A momentary confusion came over the maiden, and she stood undecided how to act. The last time she saw him he was only a youth and she scarcely more than a child. Now he was a great, strong man, with intellectual superiority stamped on every feature, and dignity in every motion, while she had bloomed into a coy and blushing young woman, a sufficient cause for confusion in one so little acquainted with the world as she. He saw her embarrassment, and coming close to her, said:
"Has the little girl I once knew so well, and for whom I held a most tender regard, but who has now grown away from me, no word of welcome for her childhood friend?"
This gave Itlza time to recover, and she began a reply by saying:
"Our noble prince—"
"No, no; Itlza! address me not thus," he said, quickly interrupting her, and speaking earnestly. "I pray you, call me anything but that in this hour of a renewal of our friendship. I like it not, coming from your lips."
"Hualcoyotl, then, if it please you," she replied, smiling at his earnestness.
"That is better, for it has in it the echo of a friendship I do not forget," said he, interrupting her again; "a friendship, the memory of which is very dear to me."
"You are very good, not to have forgotten your little friend after so long a time," she replied. "Since I realize the change which has come to both of us, it seems like a dream to have known you. Hualcoyotl, who stands before me now, is not the Hualcoyotl I remember; he was only a boy. When I saw you enter, confusion came upon me; I knew not whether I should salute you as our prince, or greet you as an old friend."
She had recovered her composure, and spoke with ease.
"Your surprise was not greater than my own when I beheld, not my little girl friend of other years, but a pretty young woman waiting to receive me," was his gallant reply.
"There, now, don't let the breakfast spoil because of too many fine words. Come, sit you down, my son; and you, my daughter, order the chocolate," said the mother, not at all displeased at the gallantry shown her child by the distinguished guest.
"Yes, mother," returned Itlza, going to execute the command, at the same time looking very happy.
The eyes of the prince followed her admiringly as she left the room, and he remarked:
"The years have, indeed, wrought changes in us all, but in Itlza the greater. She has grown into an admirable woman."
"Yes," replied the gratified mother. "She has changed much in the last few years."
The return to the room, at this moment, of the object of their remarks, cut off further allusion to her. She took her seat at the board, and, after customary formalities, the morning repast was begun.
The prince had made no reference to his friend, the tzin; but was, nevertheless, much concerned about him, and, without further delay, inquired:
"Teochma, I would hear something of Euetzin. Have you any knowledge of his whereabouts?"
"Not of a certainty. He expected to be in Tlacopan about this time, if nothing should occur to occasion delay."
"I wish that I might see him; but driven, as I am, to hasten on, I can not hope to be so fortunate." After a short pause he continued: "How long did he stop with you on his way out?"
"Only one evening—a brief stay, indeed; too brief to satisfy a mother's heart," answered Teochma.
"Yes, the time, no doubt, seemed very short to you," returned Hualcoyotl, "but the errand on which he has gone is of too great importance to admit of delay, and no one realizes it more than he."
"We do not underrate his mission, noble friend, yet feel our deprivation none the less," replied the mother.
"I believe you, good Teochma; and, be assured, if our cause is triumphant, the reward shall be commensurate."
"Why should a reward be looked for by anyone in a revolt against Tepanec oppression, save the deliverance of our people? The hope of freedom for Tezcuco, and the privilege of helping to gain it, ought to be a sufficient reward, and I am sure it would be for my brother Euet," said Itlza with a fervency which was a surprise to the prince. He looked at her well pleased, and said:
"You are a true and loyal daughter of Tezcuco, Itlza, and I thank you for your patriotic words. They are as pure gold, and could only emanate from the heart of a child of Zelmozin and Teochma." As he spoke the prince's eyes were fixed upon her with an expression of admiration and deep sincerity.
"Hualcoyotl gives me entirely too much credit for my bit of enthusiasm. It is not deserving of so much praise as he has seen fit to bestow upon it," replied she, somewhat confused by the earnestness of his language.
"Your feelings, which prompt you to depreciate the very laudable sentiment which you so forcibly expressed, and of which I could not withhold my approval, are only natural; they could not be otherwise, yet do not alter the case. I am glad the words were spoken in my presence, and I shall remember them because they were yours," he gallantly responded.
The prince was deeply and favorably impressed with the artlessness and womanly bearing of his young friend, and had circumstances permitted him to follow the lead of the thoughts which at that moment filled his mind he would certainly have studied to win her love. The affections which held the heart of the boy for the little girl had not died out. His hungry heart was quickly ablaze from the smouldering spark when fanned by the coy and winsome smile of Itlza, but he would not, then, situated as he was, build on a hope which in all probability could never be realized; still, he made a mental resolve, should fortune favor his cause, to claim the charming Itlza for his queen.
In the conversation which followed, the prince appreciating the danger which menaced his peace of mind, and which he felt was already yielding to the subtle influence of Itlza's presence, gave his attention more closely to Teochma. The topics of conversation varied, but finally reverted to the tzin. As they arose from their seats at the conclusion of breakfast, the prince said:
"I have faith in your noble son, good Teochma, and believe he will yet occupy a high place among the warriors of his people. Considering him a born leader of men, I have entrusted my future interests to his hands with a perfect confidence. If he should fail, it will be because he has undertaken an impossibility. But, Teochma, good mother of my friend, do not be discouraged; he will not fail."
"Your faith in my son is very gratifying. We will hope, with you, for the best," she replied.
The prince retired to his room, where he sat long, meditating on the possibilities of the future; and as the panoramic pages of fantasy passed athwart his brain, a picture not unlike the laughing face of Itlza beamed upon him from everyone.
The day passed in solitude to him. He would not risk exposure, and, therefore, remained in close seclusion.
Night and darkness came at last, and soon after Oza made his appearance.
At an early hour the fugitives took their departure from the villa.
When about to leave, the prince said, as a further encouragement to his friends:
"Have courage, good Teochma." Then turning to Itlza, he continued with a fervency he did not try to conceal: "And you, my boyhood's sweet child friend, continue faithful to the cause for which, in golden words, you have proven your devotion."
Addressing both, he spoke hopefully: "The darkness of the night is but the obscurance of the sun, the giver of light; so the darkness of this hour in our country's enthrallment, let us hope, but precedes the dawn of a bright and glorious day for her. Farewell, dear friends. May the gods of our fathers shield and keep you!"
He turned away, and a moment later was gone.
The mother and daughter were again alone; and thus we leave them to contemplate, in sad silence, the rapidly changing conditions of their lives.
The close and intimate relation of tutor and pupil, which was sustained between Itzalmo and Hualcoyotl for so long a period, gives the character of the former a certain degree of prominence. We, therefore, at this point, return to the Tezcucan palace to follow for a brief time the fortunes, or more fittingly the misfortunes, of the old servitor.
By reason of the peculiar and unfortunate circumstances which surrounded him, the old preceptor was brought under the malicious displeasure of the king, and caused to suffer for his fidelity to his young master. Before entering on an account of what befell him, a few preliminary references will be necessary.
The king's officer, after reporting the failure of the expedition sent out to destroy Hualcoyotl, returned to Tezcuco and established himself in the palace with a view to prosecuting the search for him.
The attendants of the prince's limited household were not disturbed, except being required to serve the officer and his men.
Itzalmo retired to his apartment, out of which he was seldom seen.
The idea that the prince was concealed somewhere in the palace was soon abandoned, and for a few days nothing occurred to cause commotion or interrupt the quiet of the place. Thus matters stood, when one morning a soldier accidentally came upon the secret door through which the prince made his escape. The discovery was reported to the officer, who, after making a thorough investigation, in turn reported it to the king.
The officer, in advising the king of the discovery, also reported Itzalmo as, in his opinion, having knowledge of the prince's whereabouts. Maxtla instructed him to question the old man with a view to gaining such information as would lead to the capture of the fugitive. If he refused to impart the desired information, the officer was ordered to bring him before his majesty.
Itzalmo was kept posted with reference to the prince's movements, and was aware of his having gone to seek refuge in the mountains. He was sorely troubled because of the perils to which hisprotégéwould be exposed, and he no longer at hand to advise and assist him. No thought of impending danger to himself had entered his mind. His concern for his young master had caused him to entirely overlook such a contingency.
It was about noon of the day following that on which Hualcoyotl left the weaver's cottage that the old Tezcucan received a summons to appear before the king's officer. He was at once aroused to a realization of the fact that peril might be threatening him. The impression that such was the case came with so much force that he hesitated for a moment, in indecision, as to what course he should pursue. It was only for a moment, for, on second thought, he decided to answer the summons, but did so with the gravest apprehension. When he entered the officer's presence, that individual said:
"You are Itzalmo, Prince Hualcoyotl's instructor and adviser, are you not?"
"I have been, for many years, the prince's preceptor," he replied.
"You have been more than a preceptor to him; you have not only taught, but directed him by your counsel, and have at all times stood sentinel over his person. It was you who effected his escape, thus placing yourself in opposition to the king, in defiance of his authority. Further than this, I am of opinion that you know where he is concealed, and have so reported to the king. The secret of his sudden disappearance is at last in our possession. The hidden door through which he quit the palace has been disclosed, and the concealed passageway explored, leaving no doubt as to how he eluded us. As yours was the directing hand, we advise you to secure immunity from the penalty of your conduct by revealing to the king the prince's hiding place. By doing so you will remain undisturbed in your present quarters; otherwise, the orders are to take you before the king."
"If such are your orders, your duty is plain; perform it. I am in your power," was Itzalmo's calm reply.
"You refuse to impart the information, do you?" questioned the officer.
"You are answered, for you have said it."
"Such being your decision, you will get ready to accompany me to the king's palace at once. Here, soldier," he called to one of his men, "attend Itzalmo to his apartment, and when he is ready, return with him to this room. Do not tarry, old man," said he, again addressing Itzalmo. "There is no time to lose, for the day is already more than half gone."
Guarded by the soldier, Itzalmo went to his room, where he made a hurried preparation to go to Azcapozalco, before the king. When he was ready he was reconducted to the officer's presence, and after a short delay placed in charge of two men, who, with him between them, followed the officer from the palace.
The distance from Tezcuco to the Tepanec capital was not great, and yet, to a pedestrian, quite a journey. While to the soldiers it was only pastime to travel it, to Itzalmo, who was unaccustomed to walking, it was long and tiresome.
The day was well spent when the party set out, and only a few leagues were covered when darkness overtook them. The officer was not disposed to do any traveling after night came on, so on coming to a station where persons going to and from the capital were wont to stop, he put up. This was a great relief to Itzalmo, for it divided the journey and gave him a full night's rest.
They were on the road again at an early hour the next morning, and arrived at their destination late in the afternoon, after a hard day's travel. On arriving at the palace grounds, the officer led the way through a spacious court into the building, going directly to the audience hall, which was found closed, the king and his council having retired.
A messenger was dispatched to inform the king of the arrival from Tezcuco of the officer with Itzalmo.
Maxtla was found in his private apartments, walking back and forth across the floor in a disturbed and agitated state of mind. It might well have been said of him: "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." He was beginning to realize that his course would prove disastrous to his authority should he fail in his designs upon the life of his rival. He was angered to the verge of desperation by the humiliation and chagrin he felt in consequence of the failure of all his attempts to destroy the prince. The good Itzalmo had, indeed, fallen under calamitous circumstances, and could expect only the direst consequences because of his loyalty to his royal pupil.
The king's slaves were near at hand, listening for his slightest command, ready to execute it instantly.
The messenger was announced, and, on coming into the presence of his master, prostrated himself before him, at the same time delivering the message.
"Arise," said Maxtla, "and return; say that the king will attend."
The messenger withdrew, and the king, after summoning his council, followed. He entered the audience hall, and ascended to his seat on the throne. A moment later his advisers filed in, and took their accustomed places about him. Itzalmo's official conductor now advanced before the throne, and, making his obeisance, said:
"The orders of the king, with reference to the old instructor of the Tezcucan prince, have been obeyed. He has refused to impart to your servant the information asked for, and has been brought here to appear before your majesty. What is my master's pleasure, concerning him?"
"We would question the old Tezcucan. You will present him before us."
When Itzalmo's official conductor went forward to learn the king's pleasure with reference to the disposal of his charge he left him in care of the two soldiers. While awaiting the officer's return the tired prisoner was permitted to sit down. The journey had left its impress of weariness upon him, and even a moment off his feet was a welcome relief.
The old man entertained no hope of clemency, for it was not in his nature to be else than loyal to his young master, which would bring upon him the infliction of a most terrible doom—a death of purposely protracted agony. Yet, as he sat there dumb and motionless, he presented a perfect picture of stoicism. If a thought in anticipation of his impending fate disturbed his mind he did not show it. Such a mind as his, however, could not possibly avoid dwelling upon the possibilities of the hour; and it naturally followed that, under the exhibition of supreme indifference which he presented, there was an active intelligence present, the run of which no move or sign attested.
The officer presently returned, and Itzalmo was told to arise and follow. A few steps brought him to the throne, where he was presented before the king and his council. He appeared haggard and worn, yet his bearing was firm and dignified. He did not forget his duty as a subject, though an unwilling one, but saluted the king in the usual manner.
Maxtla bade him rise, and said:
"We are told that you are Itzalmo, the person who has been tutor and counselor to the prince of Tezcuco. Are we correctly informed?"
"Itzalmo is before the king. He has been the preceptor and servant of Hualcoyotl, the prince," he answered, decorously.
"We know what your relation to the prince has been, and think you have served him well," replied Maxtla, rather mildly for him. He had an object, however, in dealing thus with his prisoner. "We also have reason to believe that his present place of concealment is known to you," he continued. "Your presence here is by our order, and the council's approval. We would obtain from you information which will lead to the royal fugitive's apprehension. Will you give it?" he concluded, a little more firmly.
"I am before your majesty because your officer failed to gain the information you want. Itzalmo is not a woman. Let that suffice for his answer," he replied fearlessly.
"You will give us the information we want, or suffer the consequence of your obstinacy," returned the king, his anger rising. "Your hand, old man, has been the one to defeat, in every instance, the efforts made to destroy the disturber of our peace. You have forfeited our clemency; yet if you will tell us where the prince may be found, your life shall be spared; you shall go free, and have great riches beside. Will you speak the words which shall give you life, liberty, and wealth, or will you persist in being obstinate, and bring upon yourself the consequences of your treasonable conduct?"
"Maxtla is a mighty king; Itzalmo an old man, whose life is of little account to anyone, least of all to himself. Was his life a thousand times more valuable than it is, it would yet be as many times too small a price to purchase that which you ask. Itzalmo has lived true to his prince, and will die as he has lived. Let Maxtla do his worst; I have spoken," was the heroic reply of the old Tezcucan.
"You forget, old man, in whose presence you are, and to whom you speak. Know you, that a word from us would consign you to the sacrifice? Have a care, or your age may not save you," said the tyrant, his face darkening with suppressed passion. He paused and looked with an angry scowl upon the brave and silent man before him. "Hark you, Itzalmo," he continued, "and mark well what I say; if you give us not the information we have asked for, it is our decree that you shall starve; yes, rot, in the lowest and foulest dungeon at our disposal. For the last time I ask, will you divulge the prince's hiding place?" The rising wrath of the tyrant was fearful to behold, and would have shaken the firmness of a less courageous man than Itzalmo; but his answer was in keeping with his character.
"The threats of Maxtla are to Itzalmo as the play of the idle winds," said he. "The king may kill, but he can not force Itzalmo to turn traitor to his prince. Clemency I do not expect, but death. I am done."
"Take the insolent traitor hence, and put him where the light of the sun will never reach him. There let him die the death, if he will, inch by inch. Away with him ere in our wrath we strike him dead," fairly roared the infuriated and disappointed despot.
Itzalmo was half dragged from the presence of the king and his council, out of the audience chamber, and down a massive stairway to a wide hall below; thence back to a narrow, paved court at the rear of the palace. A flight of stairs led from this court to a hallway below, which ran far back under the building. The old Tezcucan was hurried down these stairs and along the hall to another stairway, which led still lower down to a subterranean passage. Here a light was obtained, and the party descended. When the passageway was gained, a turn to the left was made, and directly another. They went quite a distance before changing their course again, when they entered a narrow avenue leading to the right, at the end of which were located a number of dungeon cells. Into one of these Itzalmo was thrust, and informed that nothing but death or a compliance with the king's demands would deliver him from it.
The prince left Zelmonco villa with an added weight to the gloom which burdened his soul and saddened immeasurably his heart. A new feeling possessed him—a feeling which had been awakened by the charm of a contact with the object of his boyhood's affections. It seemed to have suddenly become a part of his being, arousing within him almost a sense of bitterness at his unhappy lot. His good sense, however, came to his support. While the sentiment which had aroused the disturbing feelings that oppressed him was not adverse to his sensibilities, but, on the contrary, one that he would have gladly encouraged; still, to yield to it at such a time, he felt, was unworthy of his manhood. He accordingly set his face toward the mountains, and turned his back upon the attractions which lured him from his purpose, and went forward to achieve the object for which he had started out—the present security of his person and life, and the ultimate liberation of his people.
It was several leagues from the villa to the home of the loyal Tezcucan; yet, under ordinary circumstances, the distance could have been covered easily before morning, with time to spare; for the natives were a people who traveled very rapidly when the occasion required it. But the prince was a fugitive, fleeing from the emissaries of his relentless foe, and had to be continually on his guard against surprise. As a consequence his progress was greatly impeded, and daylight found him still on the road. However, he was not discovered, and his journey of the night finally ended in safety.
By lying over through one day, and traveling one more night, the fugitives would arrive at a point where discovery by recognition was considered a very remote probability. This being the case, the balance of the journey could then be pursued by daylight with little fear of detection. Accordingly the prince and his companion rested and refreshed themselves at the house of the former's friend, until evening, when their journey was resumed.
Another night on the road was gone through, which carried them well on their way toward the mountains. At the approach of the morning's dawn a secluded spot off from the highway was looked for, where a few hours' sleep could be had without fear of molestation. Such a spot was found, and the tired and travel-worn sojourners gave themselves over to recuperation in the forgetfulness of slumber.
The sun was well up toward the meridian when they awoke from a refreshing sleep and resumed their journey.
At the end of a league or more they came to a small hamlet where much-needed refreshments were procured. Being greatly invigorated by having partaken of a substantial meal, they proceeded on their way with increased confidence.
Several leagues were covered without interruption, and the wayfarers were beginning to feel quite free from anxiety, when, about the third or fourth hour of the afternoon, their fancied security was disturbed and grave apprehension aroused by the appearance, in front of them, of a party of six Tepanec soldiers. They were near a bend in the road, and the approach of the soldiers was not observed until too late to avoid meeting them by turning aside. To have done this after being seen would have aroused suspicion in the minds of the advancing troop, and caused the immediate detention and possible recognition of the fugitives. Their only safety, under the circumstances, lay in going straightforward and taking the chances of discovery. When they came face to face with the soldiers, great was the prince's surprise and perturbation at recognizing in a member of the band one of his guests of the day on which he fled the palace. Should he be recognized he could scarcely hope to escape, as the only, means of defense he carried was a stout walking-stick, while Oza did not have even a stick. He realized fully the peril of the moment, and felt it to be more critical than any he had been called upon to pass through. Walking boldly forward, he passed the soldiers. That strange sense of uneasiness and uncertainty which is produced by the mingling of hope and apprehension—a feeling often experienced by those who are on the border between danger and safety, was upon him.
"Halt!" came the stern command which broke the spell, and caused him to look back. "You are the one addressed," continued one of the soldiers, who appeared to be the leader of the band, in answer to the prince's inquiring look.
"From whom comes the authority for halting a traveler thus on the highway?" demanded the prince, in return.
"That, you shall quickly learn," answered the soldier. "From Maxtla, the king, comes the authority for halting you. You are the fugitive prince, Hualcoyotl, whom we have orders to secure, dead or alive. I now command you, in the king's name, to surrender. If you are not Prince Hualcoyotl, you will be quickly restored to liberty."
"What reason have you for supposing that you now address the person of Prince Hualcoyotl?" inquired he.
"This man," said the soldier, pointing to the one previously recognized by the prince, "is my informant. He saw you at your palace, he says, the day you escaped from the king's officer."
"He is mistaken," returned the prince. "I am a chief, going on important business. You will do well not to detain me."
As he said this, Hualcoyotl turned to move on.
"Halt! or we will make your body a target for our arrows," called the soldier, imperatively, and his men brought their bows to place, to carry the threat into execution. At the same time the speaker advanced in the direction of the prince.
"Stop, soldier!" exclaimed Hualcoyotl, in a voice of command which caused the warrior to pause. "Advance farther at your peril," he continued, swinging his heavy stick into position to defend himself. "The life of him who approaches me with evil intent shall pay the penalty of his temerity."
"You can not escape us, Prince Hualcoyotl. The orders are to secure you, and you will have to yield," said the soldier.
"Never! except by force. If you want me, take me," was the prince's defiant answer.
"Then take you we will; alive if we can, dead if we must. Forward, men!" Two of the soldiers gave their attention to Oza, while the other four advanced quickly but cautiously upon the prince. A determined effort was made to get in on him, but without avail.
Hualcoyotl was a strong man, vigorous and skillful, and being forewarned was not to be taken without a desperate struggle. The stout stick in his trained hand was a weapon to be feared. He succeeded in beating off his assailants, and stood eyeing them like a fierce animal at bay, grim and defiant.
Oza was quickly secured by the two soldiers, who now came to the assistance of their comrades. Another advance was made upon the prince, the soldiers approaching him from every point. He met them with heavy, telling blows, and one of their number went down under his stick to rise no more. It was a fiercely contested struggle, and had the stick in the prince's hand been a more formidable weapon the soldiers would have found in him more than a match. But skill, backed by only a heavy walking stick, though wielded by a strong right arm, could not long hold out against such odds. He saw that he would be compelled to yield, and was about to do so, when, to his great astonishment, and the amazement of his assailants, a shout rang out upon the air at their very ears, which staggered the soldiers for the moment with confusion. Before they could recover they were attacked with the deadly Indian sword, themaquahuitl, in the hands of one who evidently knew how to use it. The struggle was quickly terminated. The suddenness of the onslaught, and its fatal result to two of the party, who were placedhors de combat, filled the survivors with consternation, which caused them to seek safety in flight. A number of arrows were sent after them by the newcomer, which had the effect of facilitating their departure, and they were soon out of sight.
Oza was quickly released from his uncomfortable predicament, and found to have received no personal injury.
Saluting his rescuer in a very humble manner, the prince said:
"To whom are we indebted for our happy deliverance?"
"To a hunter, only," replied the newcomer, who was none other than our recent acquaintance, Cacami, the Tezcucan hunter, whom we left enjoying the hospitality of the mountaineer, Tezcot, and who was nowen routehome. "Seeing you unfairly set upon by a troop of villainous Tepanec soldiers," he went on, "I thought I'd take a hand, and see how quickly fled the cowardly pack, except these three—" He paused to examine the fallen soldiers, to learn what was their condition, and then continued, "who, I fear, are past the aid of man."
"Your coming, friend, was most timely; a moment later and we would have been in their power," said the prince.
"That was about the situation, stranger, as I saw it," returned the hunter.
"You have done us a very great service, and I regret that we are unable to suitably reward you. Words will not do it, which leaves us poor, indeed, at this moment. An expression of our deep gratitude is all we have to offer you. Inadequate as it is, it is sincere," spoke the prince, feelingly.
"There is nothing to reward, friend, nor is there any call for an expression of gratitude. What I did for you I would do for another, under the same circumstances," replied Cacami, who was disposed to depreciate the service he had rendered the prince.
"And yet you would be justified in pronouncing us ungrateful were we silent and unfeeling in the matter," said Hualcoyotl.
"I only did my duty, stranger; that's all. So, say no more about it," persisted the hunter.
"You will at least give us your name," urged the prince. "We would be glad to know and remember it."
Cacami looked at the dead soldiers, two of them victims of his own sword; and realizing the magnitude of his offence against the king, decided not to make himself known. He said, very courteously, in reply to the prince:
"I do not doubt your gratitude, friend, for the service rendered you. It was done impulsively, and with unfortunate result to two of these men, lying here, dead, almost at our feet. I would not be remembered for such service, and beg that you will permit me to pass on unknown."
"We will not press you, hunter, but deeply regret that your feelings lead you to withhold your name. You have done a greater service than you can at present be aware of," pursued the prince in tones which conveyed an impression of mystery. "Should you become known to us, we will, if in our power, reward you for it in a fitting manner."
Cacami looked wonderingly at the prince, because of the hidden significance which was evident in his remark. He was, apparently, on the point of putting an inquiry, but suddenly changed his mind, answering only by a look of depreciation.
The prince, casting his eyes in the direction taken by the retreating soldiers, continued, by saying:
"Our assailants may return with assistance; I think we had better be gone. In parting from you, hunter, we would once more express our gratitude, with a hope that we may meet again, under more auspicious circumstances."
"All right, stranger; I join you in the hope, but have no doubt that this little incident will have been forgotten then," returned Cacami.
"No, that could not be; at least, not by one of us."
With these words the prince turned away, and moved rapidly down the road, followed by his attendant.
Cacami's appearance and outfit bespoke him the citizen hunter. The Indian sword (maquahuitl) he carried marked him as such, for hunters, as a class, did not carry that weapon, on account of its weight. He was undoubtedly a successful hunter if the game secured was taken into account. Standing some distance off from where he was were two men who proved to be his servants. They had charge of a fine collection of birds and small animals, which he had secured since leaving Tezcot's. The men appeared to be awaiting orders from him; for on being signaled to move up they did so promptly.
The dead soldiers were moved to one side of the road by Cacami and his men, and left there to be disposed of by others, or, possibly, to become prey for carnivorous birds and beasts.
So soon as the prince and Oza got beyond the bend in the highway and out of view, they betook themselves to the fields and woods for better protection. Hualcoyotl's confidence in his security was gone, and he again became the anxious and watchful fugitive.
The mountains, in which refuge and safety were sought, were finally reached. In a fastness among the rocks the prince found a fairly comfortable retreat, and preparations were made for a temporary sojourn in it.
The soldiers who escaped the deadly sword of the hunter, instead of returning to look after their unfortunate companions, hurried to the nearest point and reported their adventure to the military.
This was the first information received by the Tepanec authorities of the prince's whereabouts. Troops were dispatched immediately in the direction of the mountains in pursuit of him, and his place of concealment soon became menaced by straggling bands of them, making the matter of procuring food a very serious one. It was hardly safe for the fugitives to venture out on the mountain, leaving out of the question the idea of going from it. For days they had nothing to eat except roots and berries; as a consequence, their situation became very distressing.
The prince insisted that Oza should return to Tezcuco, and leave him to his fate, but the faithful slave would not hear to it.
"Why sacrifice two lives, Oza, when one may be saved?" urged he.
"It is useless to urge me, good master; I would be a base coward to leave you now," was the loyal answer.
"As you please, but remember you are free to go whenever you so desire," said the generous prince.