The spirit of rebellion among the Tezcucans was now thoroughly aroused, and never did agitators meet with greater success than had those who were working under the direction of tzin Euet. The secret councils, which were to constitute the army of resistance to Maxtla's despotic rule, sprang into existence so rapidly as to surprise even the conspirators themselves. With these encouraging conditions the time arrived when it was deemed advisable to locate the prince, and, if possible, communicate with him. As the royal representative of his people, it was felt that he should be informed of the progress which had been made in his favor; and also be consulted with reference to the future movements of his friends in the valley. This duty very naturally from the tzin's peculiar position and relation to the fugitive devolved upon him, and his next move was to be in the direction of the mountains in search of him.
The prince's friends were assured by the continued silence of the Tepanec soldiery that he was still at large, and hidden somewhere in the mountains; for his capture or death at their hands would have been quickly heralded throughout the valley.
As the immediate neighborhood of the fugitive's hiding place was unknown to the tzin, in starting out to find him he would have to be guided in a great measure by reports coming through the enemy. Notwithstanding this was the case, he felt confident of success and was eager to be on the move. He was just now waiting for Cacami to come in from his home, where he had gone to visit with his people. As his young compatriot, who had become his closest friend, was to accompany him, the time of starting on the expedition depended on his return.
It was the day of all days in the city of Tezcuco, as was a similar one in all the cities of the valley: the people's market day. And here let us digress long enough to acquaint the reader with the exigencies which rendered such a day necessary; and also to briefly notice some of its features.
The business methods of the Anahuacans were peculiar. They had neither shops nor stores of a public character where goods of any description were displayed and sold. Only on thetianguez—great square, or market-place—which every city possessed, were the products of the country exhibited for barter or sale.
The trades were not carried on in the ordinary way, but each particular mechanical pursuit was localized in some suitable portion of the city and placed under the supervision of a chief; and, it may be added, had its tutelary god and attendant celebrations.
Their merchants, who were usually very wealthy, might better be termed merchant traders. They were itinerant in character, and did a transient business, moving through the country at the head of a caravan, composed oftamanes(burden-bearers) and an adequate guard for protection. They visited the larger cities to be present at the weekly fairs, market days, which were conducted on a colossal scale in the great square, the city's tianguez. On these occasions, which occurred regularly once a week (a week in the chronological reckoning of the Anahuacans consisted of five days), every branch of industry was represented separately in suitably arranged booths; and both great and small, from far and near, were present to buy or sell, or more frequently to exchange their produce and wares for needed articles of consumption.
Here was an individual who talked persuasively of the superior finish and beauty of his jewelry—it was not necessary to speak of its genuineness, for spurious goods were presumably unknown to the natives; a condition which no doubt existed, because of the unlimited supply of genuine raw material, and, we may add further, owing to the severe penalties prescribed for fraudulent impositions on the people. Another no less glib talker exploited in appealing voice, and flourished his flaunted featherwork before the eyes of the swarming multitude, all of whom delighted in this beautiful but expensive luxury. Others—dealers in sacred images and silver and earthenware, makers of furnishings and apparel, and last, but not least, the farmer, with his products of the soil, all bent on gathering in the cash, which consisted of quills of gold dust, Ts of tin, and bags of cacao, a kind of money which precluded the possibility of hoarding, leading us to conclude that no misers had a place among the Anahuacans. Blessed money, that gave no encouragement to the avaricious!
The tzin, to while away some of his unemployed time, which was beginning to hang heavily on his hands, had come upon Tezcot'stianguez, and stood silently observing the peculiarities and movements of the people, gathered there from all the country around, many of whom, like himself, were present out of curiosity, though the purpose of nearly all, an army in numbers, appeared to be to trade, buy, or sell.
While thus occupied in contemplating the wonders of the great fair and its heterogeneous patrons, his attention was attracted by a pulling at his mantle. Turning quickly to learn the cause, he stood face to face with Oza, the prince's attendant.
"Oza!" he exclaimed. "Do I dream, or is it indeed you?"
"You do not dream, good master Euet. It is Oza."
"How is it, man, that you are here, and where is your master?" quickly inquired the tzin, somewhat apprehensive.
"I would have much to tell you to answer your question," said Oza in reply; and looking around upon the crowd, he added: "The people might hear."
"True, Oza. We will find a more suitable place to talk. But you look tired and hungry. Have you had anything to eat to-day?"
"Only a little in two days, master."
"Follow me," said the tzin, leading the way to a refreshment stall, where food was procured and Oza's hunger appeased. When this was done, they left thetianguezand went to the tzin's boarding place.
"Now, Oza," said he, when they were comfortably fixed in his private apartment, "tell me about the prince, and why you are here. What has occurred to cause your return to the city? Did he send you?"
"No, master Euet; the prince doesn't know I'm here," replied the servitor, in answer to the tzin's last question.
"The prince does not know you are here!" exclaimed Euetzin in amazement. "How does that happen? Have you not been with him?"
"Yes, master, up to a few days ago, when we lost him in a fight with the soldiers."
The doubtful character of Oza's phraseology, taken in connection with his unexpected and, as yet, unexplained appearance in the city, was sufficient cause for increased apprehension in the tzin's mind of some serious mishap to the prince. He was much disturbed by Oza's clumsily worded reply, and, at its conclusion, exclaimed:
"Lost him? Do you mean to tell me that the prince has been killed or captured?"
"No, master Euet; not so bad as that," Oza quickly rejoined. "The prince got away all right, but we couldn't find him afterward."
"That sounds quite differently, and relieves me greatly," returned the tzin, feeling very much inclined to scold Oza for his awkwardness of speech, but the man was only a slave, and better could not be expected of him. "Who was with you beside the prince when the soldiers made the attack?" the tzin then asked.
"Menke, a hunter."
"I can not understand, Oza, how the prince could evade the soldiers, and, also, become separated from the hunter and yourself, unless it was under cover of darkness," queried the tzin.
"It was dark, master—away in the night; the hunter was taking us to his own home," answered the servant.
"I see," rejoined Euetzin, beginning to comprehend the situation. "That explains the matter more fully. You said you could not find the prince. Did you make much of an effort to do so?"
"Yes, master; for three days we looked for him."
"And failing to find him you returned to the city?"
"Yes."
By continuing to question the vassal at some length, the tzin succeeded in eliciting a fairly good account of Hualcoyotl's experience after leaving Zelmonco villa, confirming, in the one instance, Cacami's supposition that it was the prince he rescued from the Tepanec soldiers on the highway. In concluding he asked:
"Could you conduct us to the place where the soldiers attacked you?"
"Will you go, master Euet?" questioned Oza, omitting, in his eagerness, to answer the inquiry.
"That is our present purpose," was answered.
"It is good; I can lead you," quickly responded the delighted vassal.
"All right, Oza. Your return to the city, just now, is very fortunate for us, though quite the reverse for your master, for it makes his situation still more desolate and trying. It relieves us, however, of a perplexing quandary—the matter of finding the locality in which he is hiding. As our guide, you will help us out of that difficulty, and put us into position to enter upon the search at once. That is an advantage we were not counting on."
After a moment's pause, having noticed the destitute condition of the servant, he continued:
"Your appearance, Oza, is not what it should be; the attendant of a prince ought, at least, to be clothed."
Rising, as if to go, he went on:
"I will go at once to look after your needs. In the meantime you will remain in my apartment," on saying which he withdrew, and returned to thetianguezto procure the necessary articles for Oza's apparel.
Cacami came back to the city that same evening, and Oza's story was repeated to him. Euetzin also informed him as to the course he had decided on pursuing, since a definite knowledge of the prince's whereabouts had been obtained.
After hearing what his friend had to impart, and being asked for his opinion, Cacami said:
"Your plan is good; still, I think there is a better one. Have I your permission to make it known to you?"
"Certainly, Cacami; I desire that you will speak freely; was it not so, I should not have asked for your opinion," was the assuring reply.
"Oza would, no doubt, conduct us to the spot where he last saw his master, and, if necessary, to Menke's," he proceeded to say; "but, tzin Euet, there are other considerations to be taken into account, which make the course I would suggest more preferable. If I get a correct impression from your rehearsal of Oza's report, the prince's disappearance occurred within a few leagues of the mountaineer Tezcot's home, a man with whom I had the satisfaction of spending two very pleasant evenings and one day the last time I was on the mountains. My plan would be to go directly to Tezcot's. If the prince has been discovered he will, very likely, be apprised of it; if not, he can give us any information we may want, for he knows every mountaineer on that range and every foot of ground for leagues around; and, by the way, is the most generous of hosts."
"Master," said Oza suddenly and eagerly, interrupting Cacami, "I heard Menke speak to the prince about a great hunter named Tezcot."
"There, tzin Euet!" exclaimed Cacami; "that certainly strengthens the plausibility of my plan. Then think of the fact that a hospitable reception will be given us, with the added pleasure of meeting two charming maidens."
"Your last information, O Cacami, commends the course you propose to our serious consideration. We will go directly to Tezcot's, as you suggest," said the tzin, facetiously.
The point of destination having been decided upon, preparations for an early departure were begun at once. In two days the party was ready to start. The tzin and Cacami were dressed and equipped as hunters, while Oza, in fresh attire, after a good rest and cleaning up, looked like another person, and accompanied them as an attendant. Hunting parties were a common, every-day sight on the streets and highways, consequently their appearance in leaving the city attracted only a passing notice. They stopped at the villa, on their way out, to refresh themselves and say good-by to Teochma and Itlza. We will not pause to narrate what transpired there, or describe the parting, except to say: Let the reader imagine a mother's deep concern for her son; a sister and sweetheart's pale, sad face as the brother and lover take their leave, the latter showing no signs of the feelings which fill his breast, save those which Itlza alone is permitted to see; an affectionate waving of hands as the young men go out of sight, and the moments of sadly thoughtful silence which follow.
Almost two days of continued walking, much of the journey over a rough and hilly way, found Euetzin and his party nearing their destination. The sun of the last afternoon seemed, to the tired wayfarers, to move reluctantly away from the meridian, and to finally approach, at a snail's pace, the western horizon. Time may appear to pass quickly or slowly, yet it is unchangeable, and Old Sol, its mighty keeper, marks, with unerring regularity, the recurring periods of morning and evening. So, on this day, the latter came in due season, and with it, stealing softly over the scene, the gray and sombre light which precedes the slowly falling night-shades in the mountains, followed by the inharmonious and strikingly dismal croaking of the multi-vociferous heralds of night, rising from mountain pools and gorges, with an added gloom from the doleful notes of the whippoorwill. Such were the last hours and ending of the journey, which our friends had accomplished, when Cacami suddenly exclaimed:
"We are through at last, for yonder house is the mountaineer's home."
Then, falling behind, he continued:
"You take the lead, tzin Euet, and make such inquiries as may please you."
They soon stood before the hunter's dwelling, and the tzin, passing under the porch, was met at the door by Mitla, who, in answer to his inquiry if that was Tezcot's, said:
"Yes, this is Tezcot's. Will you come in?"
"We will, if refreshments may be obtained," he replied.
"Our evening meal is now being prepared. When it is ready you will be welcome to share it with us."
This was said with so much cordiality that Euetzin led the way into the house without farther questioning.
"Cacami!" exclaimed Mitla, when she recognized him. "You here, and allow your companion to ask if this is Tezcot's?" inquiringly. "But, I see, you wished to surprise us. Well, at any rate, I am glad to bid you welcome, and your companions as well."
Cacami presented the tzin, formally, who was struck with wonder and astonishment at meeting, under such surroundings, a girl so bright and charming. His feelings would have been very different had he known that from childhood Mitla had been schooled by the presence, in her father's home, of many of the best-mannered and most intelligent men of the Anahuac, who came to the range on excursions, and who always made it a point to have a meal, if nothing more, with Tezcot. Ignoring sentiment, however, he proceeded at once to the prosecution of his mission by inquiring if the hunter was at home.
"Yes, I am here; what would you have of me?" answered Tezcot himself, who at that instant entered the room through an inner door.
"Meat and drink, and, in addition, important information," replied Euetzin.
"Meat and drink you shall have, but the information will depend on the nature of it."
At this moment he discovered in Cacami his former hunter guest, and exclaimed:
"Well, well, my Tezcucan friend; you may give me a prey to ocelotls if I'm not glad to see you! Your coming here at this time augurs well for me. Who are these, your companions?" he asked, looking first at the tzin and then at Oza.
"That is Euetzin, better known as tzin Euet; and this other person, Oza, our attendant," answered Cacami, designating each.
Tezcot's countenance fairly shone with satisfaction and pleasure as he said, addressing Euetzin:
"Tzin Euet, I am very, very glad to meet you just now. The discovery of Cacami, joined to your inquiry for important information, led me to surmise that you might prove to be Euetzin or some other person who would meet an exigency which has this day arisen; and I am more than gratified to learn that it is yourself. Oza's presence here with you explains your errand. You are in search of Hualcoyotl?" he said, questioningly. "Your arrival at my house to-night is most opportune, for it makes easy, or rather relieves me of, an important and perplexing duty. The morning's dawn would have found a messenger on his way to Tezcuco to find and inform you of the prince's safety; also to request you to come here immediately."
"Are we to understand that Hualcoyotl is safe, and that you know where he is?" interrupted the tzin.
"Yes, I know where he is; and farther, that he is safe so long as Maxtla is kept in ignorance of his hiding place. An army might reach him, but never a band of soldiers."
"Your information is most cheering. We came here thinking you might know something of him; and that we did so is fortunate indeed," replied the tzin; and forgetting for the moment his tired condition in his desire to see his friend, he said: "With your permission we will go to him at once."
"No, not to-night; you shall see him to-morrow," replied Tezcot firmly. "At present he is needing rest. I would not disturb him at such an hour."
"You say well, friend, and we cheerfully defer to your wisdom. But will you not explain how the prince came to be so well secured?"
"Yes, after supper, which I see is waiting for us."
After disposing of their equipments the young men were conducted to the eating room, where an excellent repast was spread for them, to which, after ablution, they did ample justice.
During the meal Mitla's eyes frequently encountered those of the tzin; and as often as they did she felt that subtle influence, call it magnetism, if you please, which impresses itself so forcibly and mysteriously upon the susceptible mind, awakening suddenly and unconsciously feelings that may be described by only one little word. So it was in this supreme moment with Mitla, when for the first time she stood face to face with her fate.
In the conversation which followed during the meal Euetzin addressed her several times, and was so well pleased with her charming manner that he resolved to know her better.
When the meal was finished the men were reconducted to the family room, where Tezcot proceeded to give an account of the prince. He related what he knew of his experience after becoming separated from Menke and Oza, up to the time of his concealment by Mitla under the pile of chia-plant, which resulted in saving him from capture. At this juncture the tzin became intensely interested, and when he fully comprehended the invaluable service rendered his royal master by the beautiful girl, he interrupted the hunter by saying:
"Your daughter did that?"
"Yes, it was she who saved the prince from his pursuers," answered he, proud of his favorite's conduct.
"Noble girl!" passionately exclaimed the tzin. "All loyal Tezcucans will bless her name." Then to the hunter, earnestly: "As the nearest friend of Hualcoyotl, I would like to express to her the profound gratitude of a Tezcucan. Will you kindly request her to come here?"
Tezcot, appreciating the high estimation in which Mitla's conduct was regarded by a Tezcucan lord, especially by the first friend of the prince, bade her come into the room as requested.
Euetzin rose to his feet as Mitla entered, and, looking admiringly at her, said:
"Your father has just informed us that to you we are indebted, as Tezcucans and friends of Hualcoyotl, for his continued existence. My life is pledged to his service; the hand that strikes at him strikes at me; the hand that reaches out to save him I would bless. As the rescuer of Hualcoyotl, your name will be long and kindly remembered by Tezcucans everywhere, and, as one of them, I would here and now express to you the grateful thanks of my people; and farther, as a pledge of my sincerity, I desire that you will accept from me this little token, a souvenir of the great service you have rendered a deeply stricken nation, and also as a mark of my personal appreciation." As he concluded, the tzin placed in her hand a beautifully wrought miniature shield of gold, on which were engraven the armorial emblems of the royal family of Tezcuco. It was a highly prized keepsake which he had long carried on his person, and it required more than mere sentiment to cause him to part with it.
While Euetzin was speaking, Mitla stood with eyes cast down, but when he was done, raised them to his face. A glistening moisture was seen to gather on her beautiful, dark lashes as she said:
"Your great kindness has filled my heart with a strange feeling. My tongue refuses to utter the words I would speak. I can only thank you for your beautiful gift, and for thinking well of what I did for the prince."
"No words which you might utter would add to the favor and esteem to which you are entitled, and which you will have, from the friends of Hualcoyotl," said the tzin, earnestly.
Tezcot, observing the embarrassment under which Mitla was placed, motioned for her to withdraw, which she was glad to do.
The account of the prince's rescue was continued to a conclusion, and the young men, glad of an opportunity to lie down, were disposed of for the night.
Munificent Old Sol, never more brilliant, had covered fully half his ascending course from horizon to zenith, when Tezcot led the three Tezcucans into the hermit's cave.
Ix's deep and sombre-toned voice, always a source of wonder and astonishment when heard for the first time, struck the tzin and his companions as something marvelous, coming, as it did, from the depths of the cavern, in answer to the hunter's signal.
After the customary salutations between the hunter and hermit, the former requested that Hualcoyotl should come from his retreat, which he promptly did. He was permitted to look the party over, while the hunter addressed him, and, designedly, took up a little time in apologizing for the liberty he had taken in bringing strangers to the hermitage. The cavern's dim light, together with the dress worn by the visitors, made it quite impossible for the unsuspecting prince to recognize him. When Tezcot realized this fact he said:
"Euetzin, salute Prince Hualcoyotl."
The tzin stepped forward and dropped on one knee in salutation.
Hualcoyotl, recovering from the astonishment which the sudden discovery of his friend caused him, exclaimed:
"Euetzin, my brother! This is, indeed, a glad surprise. Rise, that I may greet you as an equal—not as a vassal."
The tzin arose to his feet, and the prince embraced him affectionately. He then inquired:
"Who are these that accompany you?"
"Oza, salute your master," was the tzin's response.
"Oza here, too!" exclaimed, again, the now delighted prince. "I see through it all, Oza; to you it is that I am indebted for this most happy moment. You have my blessing, and more—your freedom, from this hour!"
The slave had prostrated himself before his master, who now bade him rise.
"I would not be free, master, if it will take me from you," said the devoted vassal, in reply.
"It shall not take you from me, Oza, except to permit you to march with the army of liberation. You shall be an honored soldier."
The moment was a happy one for the ever faithful slave, and the change in his condition would only make him a more willing servitor.
"Here, O Prince, is a friend whom you will be pleased to greet, I am sure; for in him you see Cacami, the hunter, who delivered you from the Tepanec soldiers on the highway," said Euetzin, turning to his friend, who stood waiting to be presented.
Cacami saluted the prince, who, in return, gave him a cordial greeting, and said:
"Yes, Euetzin, I am more than pleased to know and greet the valiant hunter Cacami; for it is a hope realized, an opportunity I have truly wished for. More than gratitude is due from us to him, and when we are in position to requite his service he will find us not unmindful of the fact."
Passing over Cacami's reply, except to say that he deprecated an allusion to the occurrence, which he regarded as a very little thing for him to do, and, with the presentation of the party to the hermit, who found in the occasion another opportunity in which to be profoundly impressive, we leave the friends to engage in explanations and consultation, and return to Tezcot's.
Mitla was not so bright as was her wont, all through the morning hours. She was inclined to avoid conversation, and sought, more than was her practice, to be alone. After the mid-day meal she took her archer's outfit and sauntered off along the plateau, around the mountain. She was heedless, alike of time and distance. Her bow was seldom brought into use. A parrot or pheasant seemed to have no attraction for her. In one or two instances, however, when the mark was so conspicuous that the attention of a less interested person would have been drawn to it, she let go an arrow with good effect, but showed no animation at the result; she was manifestlydistrait.
The afternoon wore on, and Mitla was far from home ere she took account of where she was, or the distance she had gone. She was in the act of facing about to retrace her steps when she noticed, for the first time, three men approaching from the opposite direction. She did not wish to meet them, and, turning, walked briskly in the direction from which she had come. She did not look back for fear of attracting their attention, but, gradually increasing her step, hastened homeward. The first intimation she had that the men were following, with a view to overtaking her, was when one of them called:
"Not so fast, pretty maiden; we would keep you company."
Mitla turned quickly, in surprise, and discovered that the men had nearly overtaken her.
Three Tepanec soldiers, not more than a dozen steps away, showing a menacing disposition, was a sight to strike terror to the stoutest woman's heart. Mitla was terribly frightened at seeing them, and her heart instantly leaped into her throat. There was not a house within a mile of where she was, and, if the men meditated harm to her, her situation was indeed alarming. Her bow could hardly be deemed a means of defense against the soldiers, who were now close upon her. What should she do? was a question that called for prompt decision. She was quick of foot and in vigorous health; she might get away from them by running. It was worth trying. From the impulse of the thought she gave a bound forward, and shot away from her menacing pursuers like a frightened fawn. The soldiers immediately entered on a determined chase, and, to her, it now became a run for self-preservation. She kept up well for a short distance, and then began to flag. The shock from her fright, together with the awful sense of dread which filled her heart, unnerved her, and a growing weakness followed. She thought of her friends: if some of them were only near to come to her relief! But they were not, and her heart sank lower and lower. By an occasional glance over her shoulder she could see that her pursuers were rapidly closing the intervening distance between them, and would surely overtake her. It was a terrible moment to the fleeing maiden, who was naturally courageous and brave under ordinary circumstances, but, in her present desperate dilemma she became an impotent, helpless thing, about to sink to the earth from exhaustion. The foremost soldier was within an arm's length of her, and in another moment she would be at their mercy.
When the hunters' chief and his Tezcucan companions returned from the hermit's cave, about the middle of the afternoon, the first thought of the tzin was of Mitla. On being informed that she had gone around the mountain, presumably to do some shooting, he determined to go in search of her. He saw in the circumstance an opportunity to further his acquaintance, which he would not fail to improve. He accordingly threw his hunting outfit across his back, and started off in the direction she had gone.
Quite a distance had been covered by the tzin when his attention was attracted to a beautiful golden pheasant which flew into the wood just ahead of him. He turned aside to get a shot at it, hoping to secure it for Mitla. It escaped him, however, and, disappointed, he returned to the plateau. As he emerged from the bushes he was startled and horrified at what he saw. Only a few steps away Mitla was struggling to free herself from the hands of the Tepanec soldiers, who had only just overtaken and seized her. The tzin was upon them in an instant, and, sending an arrow into one and his javelin at another, they were quickly made to desist. His sword, which he carried more as a weapon of defense than to be used in the pursuit of game, was raised to strike, but before he could use it the villains drew off. He could not follow them; for when Mitla was released she staggered, and would have fallen to the ground had he not caught her in his arms, thus saving the miscreants from his deadlymaquahuitl. Mitla had swooned, and he could only vent his indignation and wrath in words. He exclaimed:
"Beasts, ocelotls, in the guise of soldiers! Were I free to do it, I would punish you as you deserve. Go, if you would escape a just retribution for your iniquitous conduct."
One of the soldiers was badly wounded, and they were only too glad to get away, knowing they merited all the punishment and denunciation Euetzin had meted out to them; and more—should they fall into the hands of the mountaineers, they would be summarily dealt with. They did not wait to be addressed the second time, but moved off as rapidly as they could with the wounded man to look after.
It was some minutes before Mitla recovered sufficiently to free herself from the tzin's arms. During the time of her unconsciousness he used every convenient means known to him to restore her, and succeeded very well in his efforts. When he saw that she was conscious, he inquired:
"Have you received personal injury?"
Mitla answered by a shake of the head, at the same time giving him a look of trustful helplessness. The look spoke more than words could have expressed, and told how grateful she was for the deliverance his coming had brought her, from a fate too terrible for contemplation.
When Euetzin's support was no longer required, he conducted her to a place where she could be seated, and waited for her to speak. After a moment's pause she turned her eyes, beaming with gratitude, full upon him, and said:
"It is now Mitla's turn to be grateful. If I have done aught to place a debt upon the prince, or his friends, you have paid it a hundredfold. I shall never cease to regard you as my preserver from a fate against which death would be a welcome deliverance."
"Any true man, in my place, would have done the same for you," he answered. "I am entitled to no especial gratitude for doing my duty, I would assure you. Because I happened to be here at the right moment to rescue you from the hands of those villainous soldiers, the act should not make a hero of me."
He spoke jocularly, hoping to impart cheerfulness by a cheerful manner.
"Your words do not affect the sense of obligation which fills my heart, and that it is so I am glad, for I could not be generous were I ungrateful," she returned, still deeply affected.
"I shall certainly bear in mind, with no little satisfaction, Mitla, that I have earned a place in your remembrance. Let that suffice to reward me for the service done, and think no more about it," he replied, endeavoring to dispose of the matter by depreciation, in which he failed, for Mitla said:
"I am sure you are generous. Will you not, then, permit me to be so, too? Would you have me stifle the feeling which fills my heart—the feeling of immeasurable gratitude which goes out to you, my deliverer?"
Her eyes shone with intense brightness as she spoke, showing how deep were the fires of passion in her nature, which only required stirring to become irresistible. The passionate vehemence with which her words were uttered was affective. The tzin was human, though a young man with the profoundest sense of right; for the nonce, however, he allowed himself to yield to impulse, and replied to her impassioned appeal with the warmth, almost, of a lover:
"I am reproved. I would not that you stifle one generous impulse of your peerless woman's heart. I shall not soon forget the glowful expression which but now lighted up your beautiful face—so earnestly fixed in kindness upon me. The recollection of it will be an ever-present reminder of the noble girl I rescued from peril, and whose friendship I shall always prize."
For these words she bent on him an expression which carried with it more than gratitude. It recalled him to himself, and he discovered, all too late, that he had said too much. He was honorable in a high degree, and held it a discreditable act to encourage in a maiden a sentiment he could not fully reciprocate. Her passionate utterances had caused him, for the moment, to forget his conscientiousness, and he overstepped the bounds of propriety. He was not in position to play the role of lover, and, recalling what he had said, he became greatly disturbed.
A silence ensued, until, presently, Mitla moved as if to rise, which the tzin anticipated by lifting her to her feet. She was sufficiently recovered to go home, and, leaning on the arm of her escort, she was conducted from the scene of her terrible struggle with the villainous Tepanec soldiers.
A week had elapsed since the tzin and his party arrived at Tezcot's so opportunely, much of which time had been spent at the cavern in formulating plans and instructions for the direction and government of the prince's friends, in the operations which would follow Euetzin's return to the valley.
The final consultation had been held, and the instruments of authority, which made the tzin the accredited representative of Hualcoyotl, were in his possession; and Cacami and he, it was decided, would start for the scene of their future labors the next day, leaving Oza to attend his master.
The blessings of the gods had been invoked upon the young men and the cause they were engaged in promoting; a final leave had been taken of the prince and hermit, and they were now at Tezcot's waiting for the advent of to-morrow to speed them on their way to Tlacopan, their first point of destination.
It was in the last hour of day—an hour on the mountains which brings with it a peculiar sense of subduedness—that Euetzin and Mitla strolled away from the house to find a spot where they could be alone for a short time to have a final talk before his departure, which he purposed taking at an early hour the next morning.
After the adventure with the Tepanec soldiers, when the tzin inadvertently allowed himself to say more than he should have said, he was very careful to avoid giving further encouragement to Mitla's evident regard for him; matters, therefore, had not progressed in that direction to any appreciable extent.
"Has it been well with my friend, to-day?" he inquired casually, by way of saying something as they sauntered along together.
Mitla glanced up at her companion doubtfully with her large, full eyes, looking very sorrowful. Friend is a very cold sounding word when applied by a loved one to the one who loves, and thus it sounded to her, coming from Euetzin.
"Yes, it has, thanks to you, my preserver," she answered dispiritedly. She could not forget for a moment, when in his presence, the great service he had rendered her. Thoughts of it seemed to dispossess all else in her mind, and she continually referred to it in their conversations. Her voice, sad and low, attracted Euetzin's notice, and, looking at her, he caught her eyes as they were raised to his seemingly almost ready to weep, and he said concernedly:
"You are not happy; your eyes look too sadly appealing for that. Are you in trouble?"
"My eyes reflect the sadness which is in my heart." She could say no more; and the tears were seen to start, which she tried to conceal, but could not.
"Why, Mitla, you are surely ill! Why do you weep?" the tzin asked solicitously.
"Can you not guess? Is it not enough to sadden my heart to know that you are going away, perhaps never to return?" was her tearful reply.
"Am I, indeed, so much to you that my going should affect you thus?" he asked, not only surprised, but deeply moved by her evident distress.
"You will never know, because you can not realize it, how much you are to her whose honor you preserved inviolate. I will never see you again; it is for this that my heart is filled with sadness and my eyes with tears," she said sorrowfully.
Coming to a little shaded mound they sat down, and the tzin said:
"When I am gone you will soon forget, and only remember me as the friend of Hualcoyotl." Her answer to this was a reproachful look. An expression of pain passed over her countenance, and her eyes suddenly became suffused again with tears. Euetzin saw that her feelings were deeply wounded by his words, and, taking her hand, he hastened to say, repentantly:
"I have hurt you by my careless expression. May I not recall my words, and assure you of my great sorrow for having spoken them? I will come again, if only to learn more of the beautiful mountain girl who holds for me so much of kindly feeling. Yes, I will come again. You will forgive me now, I'm sure, for having caused you pain." He spoke rapidly, and his voice grew almost impassioned in his earnestness.
A happy smile lit up the weeping Mitla's face, for she read in the tzin's fervent manner that he was not wholly indifferent toward her. She said in reply:
"If you have said aught for which forgiveness might be asked, you are forgiven. I am a foolish girl, Euetzin, to weep and laugh almost in the same moment. But I can not help it: your words give me pain or joy, just as they impress me. I am a child; do not mind me," she replied meekly.
The tzin saw that the girl's gratitude, which was very great, had changed to love, a love that knows no bounds, and he was greatly troubled. It was by no means displeasing to him, for he was a man; yet, he felt it to be most inopportune. In the few days he had been at Tezcot's Mitla had won his profound respect—possibly more, which he was not ready to admit—and he was truly sorry that he was compelled to go away so soon. There was something about the beautiful mountain girl which pleased and charmed him; and it was with difficulty he restrained himself from giving vent to feelings in which he felt he could not afford to indulge; still, notwithstanding his efforts to refrain from doing so, he had once or twice, and but now, permitted his feelings to get the better of him. He was not sure, therefore, of his disinterestedness: the feelings with which he regarded her, he thought, might be awakening love, or might prove to be only fancy. He would wait and see before committing himself. But what of Mitla's loving heart, should it prove to be the latter? This was the thought which gave him pain, and which would have much to do with moulding the impressions which would move him later.
The tzin's promise that he would come again had a cheering effect upon Mitla, and she became quite animated.
After a half hour of more cheerful conversation they went back to the house, one of them, at least, feeling much brighter for their talk.
The sun had just dropped behind the western horizon; that conscious impress of loneliness which affects the mind in the twilight of evening, especially in the open country, was beginning to pervade not only the animate, but the inanimate. The animals showed by their actions that they felt it; so, also, did the fowls and birds, by seeking their accustomed roosts. The unwonted stillness of the leaves, the drooping of the flowers, the gentle purling of the running brook, and the placid surface of the lake's waters, all gave evidence of the near approach of Nature's resting time.
Two men, hunters, from their appearance, were trudging along the highway, going in the direction of Tlacopan, which lay just ahead of them. The tired motion of their limbs—of one of them, at least—accorded well with the silent voice around them, and told, in language mute but distinct, how welcome to them would be the rest which comes with the night.
In those travel-worn pedestrians we would have recognized the young Tezcucans, Euetzin and Cacami, who were nearing the end of their return journey from the mountains, which, owing to the fact that the tzin was a slow traveler, had taken nearly two full days to accomplish. Their destination, as has been intimated, was Tlacopan, which they were making strenuous efforts to reach before dark.
"You are much the better traveler, Cacami," the tzin was saying. "While my steps are flagging, yours are light and firm."
"You have not been trained, like myself, to physical toil; to work the ground for bread, and climb the hills in quest of meat. Yours has been a life of seclusion, and, I might add, luxury—a life which little fits one for enduring long journeys," replied Cacami.
"That is true," returned the tzin. "However, our journey will soon be ended, and, with a good night's rest in Tlacopan, the morning will find us fresh as ever."
The city of Tlacopan, with its grandteocallis, magnificent palace, and ampletianguez—of the latter more will be said later—and other objects of interest, has long since disappeared from the earth, and in its stead now stands Tacuba, an unimportant Mexican village. The city of Tlacopan, in the "Golden Era" of Anahuac, was the capital of a small tribe of people who were kindred to the Tepanecs, but not in accord with them. Mäc-ū-ā, the ruling prince, stood high among the nations, and was thought worthy to be associated with the greatest. The city was situated about two leagues southwest of Tenochtitlan, off from the lake, high and dry, and was constructed, chiefly, of stone, which was convenient and abundant.
At the time of the conquest its people had become a part of the great empire of the Aztec monarch, Montezuma, and subsequently became absorbed in the race revolution which wiped away all distinction between the native tribes, resulting in the present mixed and degenerate race condition of to-day in Mexico.
The reckless disregard of the rights of others by the emissaries of Maxtla, and the new king's evident purpose to extend his empire by conquest and subjugation, as his father before him had done, so alarmed some of the lesser ruling caciques that a coalition, for self-defense and a better security, was being seriously considered by them, and a secret council had been determined on.
The times were propitious for the cause of Tezcuco.
The tzin's object in visiting Tlacopan at this time was to have audience with Macua, and, if possible, effect an alliance with him. He was not yet aware of the uneasy feeling which had been aroused by Maxtla's conduct, for the disquieted chiefs were very close-mouthed in such matters; yet he believed the king of Tlacopan would not be unfavorable to an alliance, if he could be convinced of the advantage which would accrue from such a step.
Thus circumstanced, the tzin's visit to Tlacopan just now could only be considered a venture in the line of his mission.
The day following their arrival in the city found Euetzin and his companion early at Macua's palace, seeking admission to his presence. In due time they were gratified by being conducted to his audience chamber.
The presence of the pseudo hunters in the hall, showing so great a dissimilarity in their manners and dress, caused quite a flurry of speculation and comment. Hunters, as a rule, were not a cultivated class; and the marked exception to the common, in the case of our friends, was so plainly shown that the attention of those present was attracted to them.
Macua, king of Tlacopan, was a young man of pleasing address, who was highly regarded by his subjects. He was easily approached, and, though firm in his purposes, was kindly disposed. He received the strangers very cordially, and, when informed that they desired an audience with him, said:
"We will hear what you have to say, but ask that you will be brief, for our time is much occupied."
"The king of Tlacopan is very gracious," spoke the tzin, with an obeisance. "What we have to say must be communicated in the presence of Macua, the king, and his chief counselor, alone. Will it please your majesty to hear us?"
"Your communication must be of very great importance, indeed, to require a proceeding so unusual as a private audience," replied Macua, a little severely.
"It is a matter of not only great but grave importance, of which we desire to speak, and it should be communicated privately to the king," returned Euetzin with dignity.
"Such being the case, if you will wait the departure of our subjects you shall have private audience," the king answered, urbanely.
"Macua, the king, is most generous. We will wait," said the tzin, saluting him and turning away to be conducted to a seat.
When the king's business with his vassals was disposed of he dismissed his advisors, excepting his chief counselor, a man of advanced years, and, addressing the tzin, said:
"We are ready to hear what you have to say; proceed."
"Before your majesty are two Tezcucans—Cacami and Euetzin. Macua, the king, has no doubt heard of Hualcoyotl, our prince, whose life Maxtla, the Tepanec monarch, seeks to destroy," said the tzin, pausing for a reply.
"Yes; we have heard of the young prince, who is now a fugitive," the king answered, looking wonderingly at Euetzin, and in turn waited for him to proceed.
"We are friends of Hualcoyotl and Tezcuco. We desire that the emissaries of Maxtla be driven from our city and country, and that Hualcoyotl be put upon the throne of his fathers. To accomplish this, Tezcuco must have help from other states. We appear before you, O King, as the representatives of Hualcoyotl, seeking friendship and coalition." Spoken with due deference and self-respect.
"What assurance can you give that you are friends and representatives of Hualcoyotl?" questioned the king.
"Relying on the honor of your majesty, we offer as evidence of our truthfulness this writing. Will you examine it?" replied the tzin, handing to the king a paper which was covered with hieroglyphics. Macua received and scrutinized it carefully, then passed it to his chief, who also examined it. After a short consultation between king and counselor the former said:
"We are satisfied that you are Tezcucans, and that you come from Hualcoyotl, or some other person who has been highly honored by our knightly order. Can you inform us as to the number of soldiers Tezcuco can furnish in the event of a coalition?"
"There is an army of men in the valley, composed principally of Tezcucans, who are waiting to be led against the Tepanec king, numbering twice that of Tlacopan," replied Euetzin, confidently.
"How know you that?" asked Macua, with a shade of resentment in his voice.
"When Tlacopan has shown her willingness to join Tezcuco in a war with Maxtla of Azcapozalco, the proofs of what we declare shall be placed in Macua's hands," rejoined the tzin, decisively.
"The friend of Hualcoyotl is shrewd. It is well. The matter shall have consideration. When the fifth sun is on its upward course, if you will come again, you shall have our answer," said the king.
"How may we be assured that Macua will be faithful to the confidence which we have reposed in him?" asked the tzin, with the object of securing some pledge from the young king.
"By the kingly honor of Macua, and this," he answered haughtily, handing the tzin a ring on which was the king's sign of distinction, the possession of which made the holder an accepted embassador, and gave him a pledge which the tzin well knew would be respected.
The position and person of an embassador was sacredly regarded among the nations of Anahuac. "They were lodged and entertained in the great towns," says the historian, "at the public charge, and were everywhere received with courtesy, so long as they kept within certain prescribed bounds." The king's signet was, therefore, a passport to the tzin in any part of Macua's kingdom, securing him the hospitality of the people, and free entertainment; it was not his purpose, however, to take advantage of it. The signet was to him only a pledge of Macua's faith.
On receiving the ring Euetzin said:
"The king's pledge is more than satisfactory to the friends of Hualcoyotl. When the fifth sun is on its upward course we will come for Macua's answer, and bring with us proofs of what Tezcuco can do." This ended the interview, and, saluting his majesty very profoundly, the young men withdrew.
The tzin was well pleased with the result of his audience with Macua, and was much encouraged by it. He felt certain that he was about to secure an important ally for Hualcoyotl in the king of Tlacopan, and went about his business with the added stimulus of a stronger confidence.
Euetzin had much to engage his attention in the time which would intervene before the advent of the day fixed for the second meeting with Macua. He decided first of all to visit a few of the chief cities for the purpose of securing data from which to proceed in carrying out the prince's instructions; and also to enable him to present an approximate estimate of Tezcuco's undiscovered but existent oath-bound hosts to the king of Tlacopan, in support of his declaration. Also to offer a word of explanation and encouragement to his coadjutors.
After calling on the leading Tezcucans in Macua's capital, he and Cacami crossed over to Tenochtitlan.