At the dawn of morning, the day following the one on which the great battle was fought, the allied armies, after being addressed by their respective caciques, began to advance, with a view to another engagement with Maxtla, for the purpose, chiefly, of securing, if possible, the liberation of the prisoners in his hands. The chiefs, in addressing their warriors, dwelt especially on the capture of tzin Euet, the man—as they expressed it—who had done so grand a work for Tezcuco and the cause of liberty, who, above all others, they felt, should enjoy the fruits of that work, and whose release it was hoped might be brought about by the further discomfiture of the enemy.
Flushed with the stimulus of a great victory, and anxious to again measure strength with the Tepanec hosts, the warriors of the coalited army marched away from their bivouac with a zeal which augured well for them and the confusion of their adversaries, should they meet again in deadly conflict.
The camp of the enemy was known to have been pitched on a plain situated on the further side of a piece of woodland which lay just north of the field of the recent battle. Ixtlilchoatl moved his forces cautiously through this piece of woods, expecting to find Maxtla encamped beyond, in blissful ignorance of their approach. Great was the surprise, then, of the eager and expectant allies, when they came out onto the plain, to find the enemy gone—the bird had flown, though, evidently, only a short time before. A rapid pursuit was immediately ordered, and ere long the retreating foe was overtaken and another great battle fought.
The advantages, in point of numbers and excellence of organization, together with the prestige of former successes, which were on the side of the Tepanec army when it entered the field against the allies, had been swept away by a disastrous defeat, and its warriors, further disheartened and demoralized by a humiliating retreat, which left them wholly unfitted to cope with an equally numerous army, whose members were energized by a consciousness of right, the invigoration of victory, and a determination to overthrow the power which had long been a menace to tribal independence.
The second battle was fought by the Tepanec leaders more on the line of self-preservation and the hope of getting off with a whole skin than with the expectation of doing their opponents material damage. A desperate conflict ensued, however, in which every inch of ground was stubbornly contested by them, but which, as might have been expected, ended in that wicked and tyrannical son of a barbarian despot—Maxtla—being again discomfited and forced to yield to his hated foe. A disastrous retreat followed, and, had not darkness come on to check the avenging hosts of Tezcucans, who pursued with deadly havoc the vanquished horde, the routed army would have been effectually disintegrated, if not wholly annihilated.
The prisoners, with whom Euetzin was supposed to be, were not found, and therefore not liberated. Thus was defeated one of the chief motives which had led to the sudden advance of the allies.
Victory was won, and with it a crown, but at what a cost to Prince Hualcoyotl's mind, in the contemplation of the awful fate which he now felt awaited his best-beloved friend. Great as was the success achieved, he had no heart, in that supreme hour, for exultation. He bowed his head in sorrow for his lost friend, and, leaving the management of affairs to Ixtlilchoatl and his subordinates, retired to a spot where he could be alone, that he might wrestle with his deep mental distress.
Maxtla, realizing that his army was crushed beyond hope of immediate reconstruction, continued his flight by night, to get as far from the victorious allies as possible before the light of day should reveal to the country the crippled and demoralized condition of his army. No stop was made until he had passed around and beyond the city of Tezcuco into his own territory, where a bivouac was established, and his warriors given a rest. So far as it could be done, order in his shattered ranks was restored, and the march to his capital resumed and ended.
No acclamations or demonstrations of approval greeted the return of the imperial army to Azcapozalco. With solemn, funereal tread it entered the royal city, which soon became filled with a wail of woe ascending from the bereaved and stricken inhabitants, who mourned for the missing and slain. How different was its departure!
Maxtla did not despair under the greatly adverse conditions in which he found himself after his short and disastrous campaign, but immediately set about reorganizing his army, with a view to recovering his imperial standing. His domain embraced a thickly populated territory, and was not lacking in material from which to reconstruct his depleted forces. The outcome of it was that, in a very short time, he was better prepared for war than when he went forth to meet the allies.
The prisoners taken in the battles by his warriors were brought safely through, and, as was the custom, placed in confinement to await their doom of sacrifice upon the altars of the Tepanec deities.
Ixtlilchoatl, greatly elated over the successes which had so suddenly been achieved by the armies under him, and, having conceived the idea of giving Hualcoyotl a magnificent reception back to his own, began at once to get things in shape for a grand entry into Tezcuco. Then followed the memorable march to the city, which, we are told, was one continued ovation to the returning prince. "He entered his capital," says the chronicler, "not like a proscribed outcast, but as the rightful heir to a throne, receiving, at the same time, the homage of his joyful subjects." His triumph was complete, but, with it all, there was an aching void in his heart: his enemy had escaped, and carried with him, as he supposed, the best of all his friends.
He was back in his palace, surrounded by the men who had stood with him in the fierce and deadly conflicts through which he was compelled to pass to reach it. Ix, the warrior hermit, whose intelligence and sagacity had directed the army to victory; Macua and his princely consorts; Tezcot, the wise hunter and good friend; Cacami, now a warrior whose undoubted bravery and skill were conspicuously shown in more than one furious encounter, and which were fully appreciated by the prince; and Menke, Oza and Kan, and many others who have held no particular place in our narrative, yet worthy of it when valorous deeds are considered, were there engaged in celebrating, in an enthusiastic manner, the event of their lives—the victorious close of a remarkable conflict.
Now, indeed, was Tezcuco free from Tepanec enthrallment, her people restored to their ancient privileges, and her prince brought back from an outlawed condition to the enjoyment of his inherited rights.
The power of the military immediately supervened, but its rule was not oppressive, for Ix, the hermit, was not a tyrant.
The greatest activity in all things suddenly became apparent. The king's palace quickly became a scene of rustling animation. While artisans were laboring to restore it to its ancient splendor, the prince and his attendants were busily engaged in bringing order out of chaos. Ah, how he missed his two best friends, Euetzin and Itzalmo, in that hour of incipient well-being and future greatness!
The teocallis were receiving needed attention, after years of neglect and waste, in anticipation of the coming rites, which were to be celebrated in honor of the prince's coronation.
The spirit of self-interest and industry, which had lain dormant in the hearts of the enslaved Tezcucans since the subversion of their government, was revived with their restoration to liberty, and activity prevailed where only a few days before was lethargy and inaction. Wonderful transformation! The people were free!
We will turn once more to Zelmonco villa, on which sorrow has again fallen through the afflicting hand of war.
It is a beautiful evening, an hour after the night-shades have swept away the last gleam of day. The moon's golden-hued disc is beaming refulgently down upon the glowing face of Anahuac. The unruffled foliage of shrub and tree is overcast with a silvern tinge, the reflection of Luna's mellow light on Nature's inimitable green, while, like groups of twinkling stars from afar, are seen in the distance the sacred fires which light up every temple's summit, and which are never permitted to go out. At such an hour, in which inanimate Nature, superbly robed and serenely smiling, wholly unresponsive to the sorrow which saddens her animate sister, as represented in the grief-stricken inmates of the villa home, we are privileged, as visitors, to stroll in the direction of the old oak tree, under which, in the past, the now mourning Itlza has found her chief pleasure in idle moments. As we approach the spot the first object to attract our attention is the flowerlike appearance of the beautiful fountain. We pause for a moment to view with delight the graceful turn and fall of its translucent waters, which resemble in the moon's soft rays a great white lily. In the excitement of our admiration we are led to repeat, mentally:
"Into the moonlight, whiter than snow,Beautiful, flower-like, ceaseless thy flow.Glorious fountain——!"
"Into the moonlight, whiter than snow,Beautiful, flower-like, ceaseless thy flow.Glorious fountain——!"
"Into the moonlight, whiter than snow,
Beautiful, flower-like, ceaseless thy flow.
Glorious fountain——!"
What sound is that which breaks in upon our reflection, scarcely louder than a murmur, rising in gentle undulations above the ripple of the fountain's flow as it falls into the effervescing pool below?
"My heart is sad—very, very sad, and were it not for your safe return, O Cacami, desolation would, indeed, overwhelm me."
It was Itlza's voice, low and sorrowful, addressing her lover, who had improved the first favorable moment, after the army became settled in Tezcuco, to visit the villa, where he found Teochma prostrated with grief, and Itlza very sad, though supported by the expectation of an early visit from him.
"Despair not, O Laughing-eyes; Euetzin may yet find favor with the gods. He is not dead, or his body would have been found upon the battle field."
"It were better, Cacami, if he were dead; for, oh, what a fate awaits him, if he is a prisoner!" she replied, sorrowfully.
"Let us not think of that, but rather hope against such a fate, and for a little while rejoice that we are once more brought together."
"I do rejoice, Cacami, in your preservation, and that I have you with me again; but how can I forget, for one moment, my poor, unfortunate brother?"
"Do not forget him, Laughing-eyes, but be cheered by the hope that he is not lost."
"I will try, and you will help me by recounting of yourself. How do you rank in this hour of our people's triumph?" she questioned, with a supreme effort at rallying from her dejection.
"I have no particular rank as yet, Laughing-eyes, more than that of one of the prince's chief attendants. I stood with him through both battles, and we have come to be very good friends."
"I see that you have been decorated, but do not know the significance of the badges you wear. Tell me about them, Cacami."
"This decoration," he said, directing her attention to a beautifully constructed and highly ornamental badge, "was awarded me by Hualcoyotl for doing my duty—he called it valorous conduct in battle. I prize it above all else, for it tells me I am no longer unworthy of your love." Looking up at her fondly.
"Who but yourself ever thought you unworthy?" she quickly answered.
"It was enough that I should think so, Laughing-eyes, without consulting the thoughts of others."
"Well, I'm glad you have changed your mind, at any rate," she rejoined, in quite a happy vein. "But this other one, Cacami, what deed of bravery brought you that?" she continued, lifting from his breast a superbly finished medal.
"No deed of bravery brought me that, Itlza. It was won by skill; and is the price of a man's life."
"O, why did you tell me that?" interrupted she, dropping the blood bought bauble.
"Wait, Laughing-eyes, until you have heard the story; then you will not think so badly of it," he replied, in answer to her repellantly ejaculated question. "It was given me by Macua, king of Tlacopan, at the great tourney in token of his appreciation of my skill in throwing the javelin. I was not a contestant, but, notwithstanding, had occasion to use my weapon. It happened in this wise: In a bout between lancers a Tepanec warrior was bent on murdering his opponent after he had struck him down. When I saw his purpose I sprang to the defense of the fallen man, killing the would-be assassin with my javelin before he accomplished the foul deed. And know, O Laughing-eyes, the defeated lancer was a Tezcucan. Can you blame me for doing what the people applauded, and Macua rewarded?"
"No, Cacami, I can not blame you. I should have judged you better. The badge becomes you; wear it where Macua placed it, but only as his gift, forgetting it was won at such a cost."
"I felt sure you would not blame me for defending a fallen countryman, even at the cost of a foeman's life. He was a foeman, Laughing-eyes, a foeman of Tezcuco's, or why his bitter hatred for the warrior whom he had fairly defeated?"
"Yes, it must have been hatred that lead him on to his death; but, Cacami, such scenes are best forgotten; let us talk of something else."
"Shall we talk of love, then, Laughing-eyes?"
"Better that than of scenes of blood. Yes, let us talk of love. What of the troth, O Cacami, which was left unpledged until you, with your sword, should win honor and fame? Are you not a decorated warrior now?"
"Yes, Laughing-eyes, I am; but is it well to talk of pledges now? Had we not better wait? I am not less desirous than yourself to seal our love with the sacred kiss of troth; but, Itlza, your brother, the best friend I ever had, may yet be saved; and, should he be, I want him to know, and Teochma, your mother, too, before our pledge is sealed. Our love will keep, as it has in the past. Who knows, but ourselves, that we are lovers? And, since this is so, who may come between us?"
Ah, Cacami! if you had only known what lay beyond, we think you would hardly have plead for delay, though in doing so you showed an honorable disposition.
"Who, indeed, may come between us?" returned Itlza, in a spirit of concession. "It were honorable in you, Cacami, to be considerate of my mother and brother's pleasure in the matter of our troth. I should not be the one to urge it against your reason, nor will I. No; as you say, our love will keep."
While Cacami and Itlza, secure in their own minds as to a final and happy consummation of their dreams, were felicitous—though sad—in each other's society, Hualcoyotl sat alone in his palace apartments laying plans, which, if successfully carried out, would bring about their separation, and the frustration of their cherished hopes. And yet, he was ignorant of the fact that two lives were to be made unspeakably wretched by the course he was planning to pursue. He loved Itlza, but never stopped to think that she might love another; and, possibly, did not consider such a contingency of sufficient importance to require a serious thought; for was he not soon to be made a king, whose will would be law, even in the choice of a wife? His affection for his lost friend, and the sympathy he felt for the bereaved mother and sister awakened in his already predisposed mind thoughts of an immediate union with the latter, and he planned accordingly.
It was the custom of the ruling princes of the Anahuac, when a queen was to be chosen, to have the intended royal consort brought to the palace of the prospective royal groom, to receive such instructions as would fit her for the high position she would be called to fill. With this end in view, the prince decided that Itlza, with her mother as a chaperon, should be transferred to his palace at once. He was not yet a king, and had no authority to issue a command. What he did at this time was necessarily done by courtesy. When the power to command should be placed in his hands he would be less persuasive; before, however, his ends would have to be reached by the milder methods. The mother was accordingly apprised of his wishes, and asked to give them her immediate and favorable consideration.
Teochma was not aware, as the reader knows, that matters had gone so far with Itlza and Cacami as to reach an avowal of their attachment for each other; although she felt they were more devoted than they should be, since in her mother-heart had been fostered a hope that Itlza might yet fill the exalted position of Queen of Tezcuco. Attributing the prince's proposal to the right motive, she saw in it the possible consummation of her aspirations, and would not have been human had she not experienced a certain degree of elation at the prospect. She acceded to the proposition, and looked forward to her temporary establishment in the palace as but the entrance to her future exalted position of mother to the queen.
The ready acquiescence of Teochma to his wishes was very gratifying to the prince, and preparations for receiving his intended at the palace immediately followed.
After reaching the woods, and fixing himself as comfortably as he could, the tzin tried to get some sleep, but could not succeed in wooing to himself the coveted forgetfulness. The signs in his condition were not at all favorable; he was feverish, and his wound quite painful. Hualla showed much concern, and, when it grew light enough to see, insisted on being permitted to redress his wound. The tzin was not disposed to allow him to undertake it, fearing he would do him more harm than good, but, growing rapidly more distressed and restless, finally yielded, and the lad proceeded with the dressing. Euetzin was agreeably surprised at the handy manner in which it was done. The relief to him, which followed, was so marked, and the result so soothing, that he quickly dropped off to sleep. When Hualla saw that he slept, he laid himself on the ground near by, and was soon sleeping soundly, from a head to foot weariness.
The sun was well up toward the zenith when the lad awoke. He arose and approached the sleeping tzin, who appeared to be suffering even while slumbering. His breathing was heavy, and accompanied by a sound very much like a moan. After looking at him searchingly for a moment, the youth turned away with an anxious expression on his face, and went to the border of the woods to ascertain if the Tepanec army was still on the plain. Discovering that it was not, he returned to find Euetzin just waking. On attempting to rise to a sitting posture, the tzin found that he could not, and fell back with a groan. Seeing his failure to get up, and the evident suffering the effort caused him, Hualla went quickly to his side and said:
"Let me help you, tzin."
"No, Hualla, it is not for want of strength, but in consequence of pain, that I can not rise. I fear your assistance will no longer avail, since I am so sore and stiff."
"I am willing to do anything to serve you, tzin Euet. Can't you advise me?" questioned the lad, anxiously.
The voice in which these words were spoken was so like something he had heard before, that Euetzin looked sharply at the speaker. He could discover nothing, however, in his appearance, which would justify the thought inspired by the seemingly familiar sound, and allowed it to pass as a possible similarity, or, perhaps, only a freak of the imagination.
"Will you learn if Maxtla's army is still on the plain, Hualla?" he said.
"It has gone, tzin Euet. I have only just come from looking."
"Then, Hualla, you must go, at once, to Hualcoyotl for help. I will remain where I am until you return. Please to hasten."
The lad started immediately on his fruitless errand, from which he returned soon after noon, with the discouraging intelligence that the allies had also gone. Euetzin groaned under the weight of a helpless discouragement at the announcement.
"What am I to do, my lad, now that I am helpless?" he said, showing much mental distress.
Hualla tried to comfort him, and proposed to go still farther in search of help. It was the only course left them, under the circumstances. After eating some of the food which he had procured at the deserted camp, the lad started off in the direction of the lake, hoping to find someone there, a fisherman or boatman, who might be induced to come to their assistance. He was most fortunate, and correspondingly elated, in finding a party of boatmen who had just landed at the beach, with whom he succeeded in making arrangements for the tzin's conveyance to a small town, which was situated on the lake, a league or so away.
Having succeeded so well, Hualla was now greatly encouraged at the prospect of soon getting his charge to a place where he could have the immediate attention of a doctor. One thought, however, gave him considerable anxiety; it was of the suffering the wounded tzin would be compelled to undergo while being transferred to the beach. The distance was more than a mile, and the trip, he feared, would prove very distressing to him, should it be necessary for the men to carry him on their arms. This difficulty was quickly overcome by the boatmen, whose native cleverness soon put them in possession of a roughly constructed litter, on which he was borne to the beach with but little trouble, and only a slight addition of discomfort.
When Euetzin learned that Hualla had found assistance to relieve him from his discouraging situation, he could hardly find words strong enough to express his gratitude. His appreciation of the lad's services was hourly growing more and more heartfelt, and he could not but marvel at the exhibition of interest manifested by him for his comfort and safety. It was, apparently, a phenomenal manifestation of disinterested kindness.
The tzin bore his distress bravely, and helped, by an occasional cheerful expression, to relieve the transit of some of its wearisomeness.
When the beach was reached he was carefully borne to a boat, on which he was placed, and in due time safely landed at the little Tezcucan town, where suitable quarters were secured for him, and the attention of a physician obtained, who soon had him feeling quite comfortable.
So soon as it became known that a wounded Tezcucan cacique had escaped from Maxtla's army, and found his way to the little town, everybody became interested, and nothing was too good with which to provide him.
Hualla received his due in praises for his brave conduct, as represented by Euetzin. He, however, did not seem to relish it, receiving it with a good deal of embarrassment.
Proof of the lad's cleverness in the matter of wound dressing had been furnished the tzin in two instances, and, by his request, he was installed as his nurse. The youth was provided with an apartment of his own, from which he was seldom seen except when at the bedside of the tzin.
In less than a day after his arrival at the town, Euetzin became quite ill. The exhaustive efforts which he had made to get away from the camp of the enemy, and the unavoidable aggravation and neglect of his wound, were followed by very serious consequences. A fever set in, and, owing to the dangerous character of his injury, a complication was brought on which, but for the careful administrations of his two faithful nurses and a vigorous constitution to aid them, might have terminated fatally.
Who was the second nurse? we imagine the reader will wonder. We answer, none other than the good old Itzalmo.
The old preceptor, soon after his flight from Azcapozalco, came to this town for better security; and, being too old to take part in the struggle for liberty, had remained there in concealment, waiting the result. Having no intercourse with the people of the town, he did not learn of the wounded cacique's arrival until the following day. He had, however, in the meantime learned of the great victory which had been won by the allies, and the retreat of Maxtla's army. This emboldened him, and he left his seclusion to rejoice with his brethren over the good news. By doing so he quickly learned of the presence of the wounded chief, and at once decided to make him a visit, thinking he might, in some way, be of service to him. The old man was not informed as to the tzin's identity, and made his visit from purely humane and patriotic motives. On presenting himself at his apartments he was greatly surprised at discovering in the supposed stranger his young friend and pupil, tzin Euet; and as a serious turn in the tzin's condition was just then evident, he became deeply concerned about him, and immediately gave his whole attention to the case, proving himself to be a most devoted and skillful attendant. When he fully realized the dangerous condition of his young friend he insisted upon notifying the prince regarding him, to which, for some reason, the tzin objected.
"Wait a few days," said he, "when I will be well enough to go to Tezcuco by boat." Thus were his friends kept in ignorance of his escape and whereabouts. The few days were more than doubled before his consent could be obtained, because of the unconscious condition into which he suddenly passed, and in which he remained for several days. A messenger was finally dispatched with particulars of his situation, the communication being signed by Itzalmo, with the simple statement that the writer was with him.
Hualla was always at the bedside of the tzin when Itzalmo was not, and appeared anxious and watchful for encouraging signs in the patient's condition. When a change for the better was at last discovered, he was wonderfully elated for a youngster like him, and especially one who had so lately entered into the endangered life.
One day, while the tzin slept, the youthful nurse leaned over the bed to listen to his breathing; possibly to learn if any change had taken place in the condition of it. Suddenly, as if from an irresistible impulse, he pressed a kiss upon the sick man's brow. As he did so the word "Mitla" might have been distinctly heard coming from the sleeper's lips. Hualla drew back quickly, and could his face have been seen in that moment, the observer would have been astonished at the singularly happy expression upon it. The word uttered carried with it a revelation.
As the days went by, Hualla became more devoted to the afflicted tzin, and actions expressive of ardent attachment were of frequent occurrence on his part.
The patient was rapidly recovering; the nurses, however, had not relinquished their posts of duty, but continued careful of his every want. It was in Hualla's watch that we find him quietly dozing, or apparently so, while the young nurse sat in his accustomed place near the bed. Presently the latter rose from his seat and approached the bedside, and, as he frequently did, leaned over the sleeper and gazed intently into his face. As he was thus occupied Euetzin suddenly opened his eyes to encounter an earnest, loving expression, which the watcher was unconsciously revealing. Only a pair of undisguised eyes were seen by the tzin, in which he beheld, not Hualla, but one with whom he had at last come to realize he was in love, and, quick as the thought which impelled him, he caught the watcher's form, and drew it to him, while he exclaimed:
"Mitla, my own true love! How is it that you are here?" and, when he had said this, imprinted a fervent kiss upon Hualla's lips.
"The assurance that you love me brings a great joy to my heart. I am repaid for all that I have endured for love's sake. But, Euetzin, you must not forget that you are ill. Excitement might do you harm," returned the young nurse in surprising language.
"Such excitement will make me well," replied the tzin. "But, Mitla, you have not told me how you came to be here," still holding the form in his close embrace.
"Have you forgotten Hualla?"
"No, no! I have not forgotten Hualla, nor will I ever; but, my dear girl, what has he to do with your presence here?"
"Hualla has everything to do with my presence here; for Hualla and Mitla are one and the same, Euetzin," was the answer which fell with surprising effect upon the tzin's ears. In astonishment he let go his hold of the yielding form, and held it off at arms' length. There was no mistake; what he had just heard was, indeed, true; for it was certainly Hualla who stood, smiling and happy, before him. He looked at the metamorphosed Mitla for a moment, and then, as if suddenly realizing the wonderful depth of devotion she had shown for him, he said in a voice exhibiting profound emotion:
"Never love more ardent and powerful moved the heart of woman than that which has inspired you to do what you have done! The devotion of Hualla, and the familiar tone of his voice, which has often startled me, are now explained. From the horrors of an awful death the hand of Hualla—your hand, O best beloved of my heart—hath rescued me. What do I not owe you?" He paused, and, drawing Mitla to him, kissed her fondly.
"Let this be my pledge of troth," he said impressively; "my pledge that she who has risked and done so much for me shall be my wife."
Mitla's devotion to the man she loved so wildly, and the brave heart which had struggled through so great dangers and fatigue for his sake, were rewarded at last, and she made unspeakably happy. Her joy was so great that she could have rested indefinitely in his embrace, but Itzalmo must not know that Hualla was other than he seemed. She disengaged herself from Euetzin's arms, and when the old man came he found his fellow attendant in his accustomed place, and the patient looking unusually bright and cheerful.
The object of the coalition against Maxtla having been achieved, and Tezcuco once more in position to defend herself, the league was dissolved. The foreign armies quietly withdrew from the city, and returned to their respective capitals—the hunter-guard having early gone back to their mountain homes.
The parting between the old warrior chieftain, Ix, and his friend Tezcot, was expressive of a deep and lasting regard. The latter promised, at leaving—to please his hermit friend—that, providing his affairs at home would admit of it, he would return to witness the prince's coronation, which event was then paramount to everything else in the minds of the disenthralled and happy people, who were bent on making it a memorable occasion—a day on which not only the crowning of their new king should take place, but a grand celebration, also, in honor of Tezcuco's independence and their liberation from an enforced vassalage.
It was customary, when an event not down on their calendar was to be observed, to select one of their festal days on which to celebrate it, of which they had a great number, every deity having one especially set apart for its service. One of the most prominent on their calendar was, accordingly, chosen for the occasion—prominent because of the latitude which would be afforded the priesthood, in it, to exercise its peculiar functions, not omitting the revolting ceremony of human sacrifice, in which its members seemed to delight. Not since the subversion of their government had a festival so impressive in character been celebrated in Tezcuco, and the priests, awake to the importance of an occasion which would restore to them privileges so long withheld, were active in its promotion, and a great number of victims—chiefly prisoners of war—were selected for sacrifice.
Hualcoyotl was greatly averse to the shocking scenes of blood and agony, which always attended the sacrificial ceremony, but had no power—not even as a king—to stop it, for the authority of the priesthood in such matters was supreme.
We have it from fairly reliable sources—mostly traditional, to be sure, yet worthy of credence—that he made it an especial effort of his long and prosperous reign to have the inhuman practice abolished, and bring his people to worship according to the belief which he had early conceived to be the correct one—which, in the light of his surroundings, was truly remarkable. He believed in "One unseen Cause of Causes"—"One all-powerful God"—a unity, to whom appeals should be made direct. In this particular he showed a high order of intelligence, for it is an established opinion, if not a fact, that the simplicity of the idea of one God, who has no need of inferior representatives to execute his will, is too vast for the conception of narrowed understandings, and, as a consequence, resort to a multiplicity of deities follows.
The great Tezcucan was only partially successful in his efforts, because of the vitiating influence of his Aztec neighbors, who exceeded all the other races of Anahuac in barbaric practices, between whom and his people there existed the closest political relations, almost from the day of his coronation up to the time of the conquest.
The prince's failure to establish his belief in "One Supreme Intelligence" did not abate in the least his personal convictions on the subject, but as the years went by he became more firmly fixed in his faith, which, if not a Christian faith, was so near to it that the difference could only be found in the fact that he was a barbarian, having no knowledge of the Christ; and, yet, who shall say, when ways and means for the acquiring of religious knowledge are considered, that Hualcoyotl's religion was not as acceptable to "Him by whom we live" as was that of the shepherd king?
Itlza and her mother were in due time transferred to the Tezcucan palace, and no royal host was ever more considerate of the wants and comforts of his guests than was he of their's. The mother was elated to a degree which almost made her forget her affliction. In the transfer the first step leading to high honors for her daughter was taken, a sufficient cause for the excitement of a more enlightened intelligence than her's. Itlza, on the other hand, between love for Cacami and sorrow for her lost brother, took no account of the significance which was to be attached to the transfer of her residence from Zelmonco to Tezcuco, and entered upon the change with no suspicion of what it portended.
The prince, in making his proposal to Teochma that she and Itlza should take up their residence in the palace, had put it as near in the form of a command as he could without making it direct. He pressed it upon her as an honor which should not be treated lightly, and being ambitious of her child's advancement she readily complied. As an obedient daughter, who really had no choice in the matter, Itlza acquiesced, and, amid the bustle and confusion with which the city and palace were filled, found the change from quiet Zelmonco very agreeable.
The prince took advantage of the first opportunity offered, after the transfer was made, to have a talk with Teochma regarding Itlza, and his intentions with reference to her. She gave him to understand that his will was her pleasure, but did not deem it politic to make any show of the satisfaction she experienced at having her divinations verified. He directed that the matter should remain a secret between them for the present, as he desired, before revealing to Itlza his purposes, to establish himself in her favor. Thus the matter was left to rest, the prince, the while, using every possible means at his command to gain the affections of his intended queen. Itlza treated him most kindly, accepting his attentions as a matter of course, which encouraged him to persevere.
While seated with Teochma in his family apartments one day, talking in a confidential way, Hualcoyotl was informed by his personal attendant that a strange messenger awaited his pleasure.
"You will ascertain if his business is of a private nature, Oza, and report to me at once," he said, and then turned to resume his conversation with Teochma.
Notwithstanding Oza was a free man, the prince having made good his promise that he should have his freedom, he was still in the latter's service. Their experience together on the mountains had given rise to a warm, mutual attachment between the master and his servant, which resulted in Oza's retention as a special and favored attendant.
The faithful servitor withdrew, and in a few minutes returned, bearing a written message, which he placed in the prince's hand. The latter, after dismissing his man with the injunction to remain near by, proceeded to peruse the writing. On glancing over it he suddenly turned to Teochma, his face beaming with an expression of joyful surprise, and exclaimed:
"Rejoice, O mother of Euetzin, your son lives, and is among friends!"
Teochma was dazed and speechless for a moment, from the sudden and unexpected announcement. Recovering herself, she, in turn, exclaimed:
"My son, my Euet alive, and among friends! O Prince, do not unsay that!"
"I shall not unsay it, Teochma; for it is Itzalmo who writes—Itzalmo, Teochma, who is truth itself," returned he, with a glad emphasis.
"Itzalmo, Prince; is he, too, alive and with my son?"
"Yes, he is with the tzin, but does not explain. It is enough to know, O Teochma, that they are not prisoners. Now, indeed, may we rejoice!" returned the now joyful prince.
The communication was the one sent by the old preceptor, to which allusion was made in the last chapter.
The good news quickly spread, and the cloud of sorrow which had hung like a pall over the friends of the tzin and the old tutor was lifted, and general rejoicing succeeded.
Hualcoyotl immediately sent a summons to Cacami, who was at his home in the country, to come to him at once. The young warrior came promptly, in obedience to the summons, and was not less joyful than the prince at the surprising intelligence. He was ordered to take a sufficient number of men and go to the little town for the purpose of bringing the wounded tzin and his aged companion to the city. The duty, under the circumstances, was a most agreeable one to Cacami, who stood not upon the order of his going, but set off at once to perform it.
From a house of sorrow and mourning the palace was changed to one of joy and gladness by the joyful news. Its halls and corridors rang with the music of happy voices, impressing the royal household as the inhabitant of the winter frozen north is impressed by the glad notes of spring, heard in the songs of the returning forest minstrels, after a long and dreary season of storm and cold—incomparable waking of ecstatic emotions.
In order that the reader may be made acquainted with the circumstances in Mitla's case, which led to her appearance, so opportunely for Euetzin, in the camp of Maxtla's defeated army, it will be necessary for us to go back to the holding of the tournament at Tlacopan, and notice, briefly, a few of the incidents connected with her movements.
When Ix's mountain guard came to that city to join the army, they did so as individuals, and were accompanied by a number of their people, consisting mostly of women and men servants, who came, especially, to witness the tourney. Mitla was of the party, coming at the request of Euetzin to take part in the archers' contest, and whose skill, it will be remembered, proved such an interesting feature of the occasion.
The real object for which the tournament was gotten up had not become known beyond the circle of close-mouthed projectors of the movement against Maxtla, and Mitla, as one of the public, was therefore ignorant of what was to follow. She was to have returned to her home at the conclusion of the tourney, with her party, but when the excitement, which ensued upon the heels of it because of the unavoidable publicity of the movement, became absorbingly intense, and she learned the true situation of affairs, she determined on pursuing a different course. Her love for the tzin, which had so quickly become an irresistible, absorbing passion, and which had given added fervency by the grandeur of the scene in which he was a conspicuous figure, and she an object of special attention and admiration—together with a longing desire to be near him, which had suddenly taken possession of her—outweighed all other considerations, and she resolved on following him to the field. How to accomplish this, without her presence in the army becoming known to him, was a matter of no little moment—especially to her, an inexperienced mountain girl. However, love knows no barriers too great to be surmounted, and hers was not an exception. She settled the question by procuring the necessary apparel with which to change her appearance to that of a boy, which she carried away with her when she left the city—presumably to return to her home.
The first night out, after leaving Tlacopan, the madly infatuated maiden took advantage of circumstances to quietly slip from among her people, with a view to carrying out her determination to follow the tzin. Getting far enough away from the camp of her friends to feel reasonably secure from discovery, she made the intended transformation, at the same time deepening the color of her complexion by using a stain procured from the bark of a tree. When the disguise was completed, and her discarded clothing carefully concealed where it could be found, should the opportunity ever come around for recovering it, she started on her backward journey.
Mitla was now completely lost in the character she had assumed. Her closest friends would not have recognized her, so perfect was the disguise. Instead of a beautiful young maiden, a stoutly-built, well-appearing lad, with a very dark complexion, moved with hurried step, and eyes peering almost expectantly into the darkness ahead of him, in the direction of Tlacopan.
The adoption of a name for herself, corresponding with her disguise, before reaching her destination, now became a necessary expedient, and Mitla's genius for that kind of invention was for the first time—and, we might add, the last—brought into operation. After calling up all the names within her recollection, and, inventing not a few, she finally settled upon Hualla—very appropriate and well suited, and under it found her way into the allied army.
Fear of detection made the disguised maiden wary of getting into a too close proximity to those who knew her best. This led her to avoid the mountain guard and her Tezcucan friends, and to go in search of the gallant young leader of the Tlacopan army, for whom she had conceived quite a liking, from his genial and kindly disposition. After considerable trouble and worry she found the gracious Macua, and, on being admitted to his presence, told him that she wished to go with the army, and could think of no position which she could fill except that of messenger, in which capacity, she asked, would he kindly allow her to serve him. She made an attractive appearing youth, and readily found favor with the young chief, who immediately installed her a member of his military household. To become an attachee of Macua's official family was not to become a slave, by any means, and our mountain heroine found frequent means for gratifying her peculiar longings.
To be where she could occasionally have a look at the man she so wildly loved, her idol, was the sole object of Mitla's self-imposed masquerading. The tzin's division of Tezcucans was soon located by her, and no move or change was made by it that she was not aware of. Whenever her duty brought her near to where the young cacique—a title the tzin had acquired by virtue of his position as a leader—was stationed, she made it a point to have a good look at him, on several of which occasions he saw her, but, thinking her only an inquisitive lad, paid little attention to her actions.
When the great battle occurred, Mitla stationed herself where every move the tzin made could be watched by her unerring eye of love. When Maxtla made his attack, she saw with bated breath the terrible struggle which ensued, and when Euetzin, at the head of his Tezcucan legion, rushed to the aid of the hard pressed allies, her heart stood still from fear and dread. It was not long after this when it became a difficult matter to distinguish friend from foe, and the tzin passed from her sight to be seen not again until found by her in the enemy's camp. His disappearance relieved the nervous strain the sight of his exposure caused her to experience, yet deepened her anxiety for his safety. The time seemed an age to her in which the opposing forces struggled with each other for the mastery. Victory finally came, however, to crown the efforts of those in whom she was interested, and when it did come she was quickly mingling with the triumphant warriors of the tzin's division, to learn if he were safe or not. When it was discovered that he was missing, her feelings of grief and dread were indescribable. She could be brave while Euetzin was near and safe; but, if lost, what should she do? After learning to a certainty that her beloved was surely a prisoner, as the failure to find his body on the battle field had proven to the satisfaction of the leaders, she resolved to follow the retreating army, and, if he were discovered, to liberate him or die in the attempt. She put her resolution into execution, with the happy result already known to the reader.
Euetzin experienced a good deal of solicitude for Mitla's people after learning what had been her course. Their anxiety and distress at her strange and mysterious disappearance, he thought, could not be other than extreme, and he determined that they should be relieved at the earliest possible moment. He communicated his feelings on the subject to her, and found that she was not a little worried over the matter herself, now that her identity was revealed. It was decided, in view of the unpropitious circumstances, that she should go home so soon as arrangements for a suitable escort could be made. It was at this juncture of the situation that Cacami and his party came upon the scene.
The meeting between the two friends was very cordial, which evidenced the warm feelings of friendship which had grown up between them.
The particulars of the tzin's capture and escape, in which the invaluable services rendered by Hualla in effecting the latter were made a subject of special mention, were detailed to Cacami, who heard the account, especially that portion of it relating to the lad's conduct, with no little astonishment. His astonishment in this connection, however, was not to be compared with that which followed when he was let into the secret of Hualla's identity, and informed by the tzin that it was his purpose to make the brave girl his wife.
"I am lost in amazement," he exclaimed, "at the surprises which seem to meet me at every turn! When will they cease?"
"Not until you have found your affinity, Cacami; have made your proposal, and surprised us with a denouement," replied the tzin pleasantly, little dreaming that his friend had already found his affinity in his own dear sister, and that a surprise would come out of it, in comparison with which the surprise of Cacami at his declaration would be as nothing—but we anticipate.
Euetzin was not yet sufficiently recovered to bear moving, and as Cacami would be obliged to wait or return to Tezcuco without him, the latter, on learning of the tzin's desire that Mitla should return quickly as might be to her people, proposed that he and his men should be her escort. Euetzin thanked him for the suggestion, and accepted it as a most opportune way out of a very peculiar dilemma.
A transformation now took place, and Hualla ceased to be, except in the recollections of the tzin, as an inseparable factor in a portion of his experience which he could never forget, and which went to make up the most eventful period of his life; while Mitla, happy in the consciousness of a requited love—though realizing that her beauty was somewhat marred by the unnatural darkness of her complexion—sat by the bedside of her afflicted lover listening to the words of endearment which he was speaking.
"Hualla, the noble lad, to whom I owed so great a debt, is no more," he was saying; "yet he will never be forgotten. He has left a legacy to you, Mitla, in my gratitude for his brave conduct in my behalf. Thus you will have a double portion: my gratitude to him, and my best love for your dear self. Are you not happy, Mitla?"
"Yes, Euetzin, more happy than I can tell," was her reply; still, her actions did not warrant it. The thought that she must part from him at this time pressed heavily upon her heart, and when she had spoken, she dropped her head upon the hand which she was holding; as she did so, a tear trickled down over her cheek and fell upon it.
"Why, Mitla!" exclaimed the tzin, anxiously, "you are in tears! What has disturbed you?"
"They are tears of joy, Euetzin, mingled with sadness—sadness that I am about to leave you, and you so ill. I would remain to nurse you back to health, but you have advised, wisely, no doubt, that I should go; and I feel restrained, against inclination, to do so, that my people may no longer mourn for me as lost."
"Yes, Mitla, it will be better so. I will soon be well—thanks to you—and back in Tezcuco, where you shall early join me, to go away no more; then our happiness will be complete. You must be brave; it were not like Hualla to weep," spoke the tzin, persuasively.
"I will weep no more, Euetzin; you shall see that she whom you love is brave, even as Hualla," she replied, wiping away her tears.
Euetzin realized that the time was close at hand when the escort would come to take his loved Mitla from him, and drawing her to him, he said:
"Your unbounded love, which saved and brought me where I am, is worth more than all else in the world to me; and my life's best effort shall be to make you happy. Go from me with this assurance, and think only of the joy our reunion will bring."
The lover's parting kiss was exchanged, and Mitla disengaged herself from the tzin's embrace—none too soon either; for just then Cacami entered to say that the palanquin awaited her occupancy. A few minutes later she had taken her seat in the chair, and the little procession moved away.
Under Cacami's careful direction Mitla was transported in comfort and safety back to her mountain home. Her arrival there was the return of a loved one given up as lost. The meeting was very affecting, filled as it was with a terrible struggle between love and joy, and a feeling of injured confidence and resentment for the mastery in the hearts of the aggrieved parents. Cacami, fearful that harsh treatment might be in store for the offending daughter, pleaded her cause with earnestness and eloquence:
"Mitla, though blamable from a prudential standpoint, has proven herself a heroine. Had not her hand, O Tezcot, the hand of your child, brought succor and release to Euetzin, he would to-day, if alive, be in the hands of Maxtla, awaiting the awful fate of a prisoner of war. It was her great love that saved to us a noble friend. Such devotion is worthy the reward it has won: Euetzin's plighted troth. They will wed, and the daughter of the wise hunter, the friend of the great Ixtlilchoatl, will become the happy wife of a noble, who will assuredly be among the exalted of the king's household. Forget her imprudence, O Tezcot, O Xochitl, and forgive. Euetzin asks it, and I plead for it."
"Mitla is dear to the hearts of all her people, and we do not forget, while blaming her, that she should have our sympathy, for she was greatly affected by love for the tzin," replied the generous Tezcot. "Yes, we will forget and forgive, for our love's sake, and the sake of our friends. So say you to Euetzin."
After a day of rejoicing and feasting with the family of the hunter, Cacami and his party started on their return journey, the young warrior leader happy and exultant from the success of his efforts as a peacemaker.
In due time the little party was back with the tzin, to find him sufficiently recovered to allow of his transfer to Tezcuco.
Happy, indeed, was the hour in which Euetzin and Itzalmo were set down in the Tezcucan palace, and the little circle of friends, so ruthlessly broken up by the Tepanec despot, was again complete. To emphasize his pleasure, the prince ordered a grand reception and banquet to be given in honor of the restoration of his friends. It was a glorious time of rejoicing, hardly less affecting than were the scenes which followed the prince's return to his joyful people a victorious leader.
"Let joy be unconfined!" Hualcoyotl might have proclaimed in that hour of a happy reunion; and yet, how deep was the mental affliction which, all unknown to him, was then hanging over and threatening not only his own peace of mind, but that of nearly all the chief participants in the pleasurable event.