We pass over the ceremonies which made Hualcoyotl a king, except to say that the occasion was of an exceptional character, and one that could take place only under conditions in which barbaric ideas of pomp and splendor are brought into operation in the achievement of a climax at once imposing and ostentatious. Many of the nobility from the surrounding principalities were present to witness the grand pageant, among whom was the Aztec monarch, one of the line from which sprang the first and second Montezumas—possibly Itzcoatl, a son of the first. He was there not only as a witness of the pageantry, but to congratulate his young kinsman, the Prince of Tezcuco, on his accession to the throne of his ancestors; and, also—we may further presume—to seek an immediate alliance with him for the purpose of waging a war of extermination against Maxtla, whose arbitrary and insolent conduct had so wrought upon the feelings of the Mexican prince that he had resolved, with the help of his neighbor, to destroy the power and influence of the Tepanec dynasty forever, by its complete subversion.
Hualcoyotl could not be assured of a continued and uninterrupted reign so long as his powerful and mortal enemy was permitted to exercise his despotic and aggressive disposition, and readily consented to join his royal cousin, of Tenochtitlan, in a crusade against him.
The first business of the new king, however, was the organization of his governmental household—the selection of his chief officials who should comprise his privy council. In filling the most exalted positions, he remembered those who had been his personal friends when friendship was at a premium with him. Itzalmo was made his chief counselor, Ixtlilchoatl his chief war officer, and Euetzin his chief officer of state. In the latter he invested unusual authority, placing in his charge all matters of a tribal character. Cacami was not forgotten, but, by his own expressed wish, assigned to an important position in the army, near the person of Ixtlilchoatl.
Tezcot and Menke, who were in attendance at the ceremony of enthronement, were pressed to unite their destiny with Tezcuco, but, preferring a life in the mountains to one of luxury at the capital of their newly acquired friends, declined to do so. This the appreciative prince regretted, for he was anxious to express his gratitude, in some substantial manner, for the friendship they had shown him when he was an outlawed wanderer—which he could do best by making them favored retainers in his official retinue.
Hualcoyotl was not too busy to think of carrying out his purpose of making Itlza his queen, and now, that he was a king, sought, without delay, an opportunity in which to communicate to her his intentions.
The extensive conservatory, connected with the palace, of which previous mention has been made, was a favorite retreat of Itzla's, which the prince had discovered, and here he determined to find and acquaint her with his designs.
At a certain hour on each day, in the afternoon, it was her custom to go into this pleasant and retired place alone. That she remained unaccompanied while there may be doubted, however, since Cacami spent much of his time at the palace.
On an afternoon only a few days subsequent to the crowning of the prince, Itlza entered the conservatory with light and eager step. Her face was brightened by a joyous gleaming which beamed from her beautiful laughing eyes, and there was upon it an expression of expectancy, as if some pleasurable event was anticipated and near at hand. She hummed, in monotone, a droll little theme of native music, as she moved about the place on pleasure bent.
Although the work of restoration had been commenced, and the erstwhile beauty of the once enchanting resort had begun to reassert itself; still, traces of neglect, which had been permitted to creep over and mar a former perfection of arrangement, were present in the conservatory to disenchant the esthetical beholder. Yet, to a person who might have been suspected of only seeking a means whereby to gain an end, as in Itlza's case, the imperfection was of little consequence.
Presently, and without notice to the happy dreamer, she was brought face to face with Hualcoyotl, who had come upon her unobserved. She greeted him courteously, yet was slightly confused and uneasy, as if a pleasant anticipation had suddenly been broken in on.
"Will you be seated, Itlza?" said he, graciously, directing her to a low bench a little distance away. "I have something of interest—at least of interest to me, and which ought to be to yourself—to say to you."
What could the surprised and disquieted maiden do but comply? A request from Hualcoyotl was to her a command, and she permitted herself to be conducted to the bench. When she was seated, he continued:
"Are you happy, Itlza, in this palace home of mine?"
"Your home is very enjoyable, and will be beautiful and full of pleasantness when you are through with its improvement. I would be very unappreciative not to enjoy it to the extent of being happy," she replied, wondering to what the question would lead.
"Yes, my home will be beautiful; but, Itlza, it will be like the cage of a bird, the one occupant of which is without a mate," he returned, looking at her with an expression of fondness, which, when she raised her eyes inquiringly to his, she did not fail to comprehend. She became much disturbed, but thought she must say something, and spoke as follows:
"The King of Tezcuco need not be long without a mate; for there is many a charmingcihuatl(woman) who would be pleased to come into his palace home to reign as queen. He has only to command, and the most beautiful princesses in all the Anahuac will be his to choose from."
"Itlza, have you forgotten the hours, long ago, when a lad and little lass played and romped over the hills of Zelmonco?" he questioned. "If you have forgotten, I am sorry; for I have not. Blissfully ignorant were we then," he went on, "of the sorrows and griefs of the future; and happy in our innocent simplicity, thinking only of the joys and pleasures of an artless childhood."
"No, I have not forgotten. Those were, indeed, happy times," she replied, a frightened look covering her face.
"In those times, Itlza, I thought of you as my future mate, and now that I am a man, with wisdom to choose, I would verify those boyish dreams by making you my queen. You will fill that place in my heart, as well as in my palace, as no other can, though she were the greatest princess of Anahuac; for, Itlza, I love you." He paused an instant to watch the effect of his declaration. "I would have you come to me," he continued, "not by command, but by choice. Will you be my queen, Itlza?"
The graveness of the situation now dawned upon her mind with a terrible force—Hualcoyotl had chosen her to be his queen. She was dumbfounded, and consternation was depicted on her face. She did not dare to look up. The prince, after waiting a moment for a reply, again spoke:
"You are silent, Itlza; have you nothing to say for the honor I am about to confer upon you?"
Recovering herself sufficiently to speak, she said, in a scared tone of voice:
"Your proposal, O Hualcoyotl, has come upon me so suddenly that I am confused; I was not expecting it. What says Teochma, my mother?"
"That Itlza shall be Queen of Tezcuco," he replied, piquantly, being disappointed and displeased with her reception of his proposal.
"It is all so sudden, so startling, I am overwhelmed with confusion. You will, I'm sure, O noblest of friends, give me time to think?" she questioned, hoping to secure a respite, if only for a little time, that she might become reconciled to the inevitable, if such a thing were possible.
"Yes, I will give you time, Itlza—a few days, but I may not be disappointed, for I have set my heart upon making you Queen of Tezcuco—my queen."
Unobserved by the prince and Itlza, another person, a man, entered the conservatory, hurriedly and expectantly, but, on coming near to where they were, he heard the sound of someone talking, which caused him to stop and listen. His position was screened from observation by foliage, and, had he been so disposed, he might have remained an unseen listener to what followed, but he did not. He recognized the prince's voice, and, although he could not see her, he felt sure it was Itlza he was speaking to. He caught the words, "for I have set my heart upon making you Queen of Tezcuco—my queen," and they fell upon his ear like the crack of a fearful doom. He waited to hear no more, but quickly turned away and left the place as hurriedly as he had entered it.
Itlza gathered herself together for a final plea, and said:
"I would not seem unkind or unappreciative toward the dear friend of my childhood, whom I esteem above all men, and look upon almost as one of my own blood. You are like a brother to me, noble Hualcoyotl, but not like a lover."
"You will yet learn to love me, Itlza. You shall remain in my palace, and I will teach you," he rejoined, persuasively.
"Is there not someone else, O prince, more worthy and lovable than I, who would be pleased to become your queen, whose love might be had for the asking?" she pleaded, paying no attention to his persuasive tones.
Hualcoyotl was inexorable. He had resolved on a purpose, and was not to be dissuaded from pursuing it to the end. He said decidedly:
"The King of Tezcuco may find others to love him, but not another to be his queen. You, O Itlza, my first and only love, shall fill that place. I am king—my word is law. I have said it. Be wise, O Itlza, in this matter, and study to become the chief lady of the nation." As he finished speaking he knelt on one knee, took her hand and pressed it to his forehead—a mode of affectionate salutation, the kiss being reserved for those who were endeared—after which action he turned away, leaving her to the terrible realization of the hopelessness of her love for Cacami, and the certainty of a compulsory marriage with him, which death alone could prevent.
She was now alone, in the saddest sense, with no eye to witness the anguish of soul with which she was stricken, and to which she now gave away. Throwing herself prostrate upon the ground she forgot all else but her crushed hopes, and moaned in the agony of despair. She did not realize the quick approach and presence of the one for the love of whom she was now caused to suffer. He stood over her for a moment, contemplating her agony, while on his face was unmistakable evidence of great distress of mind. Though strong in his manhood, he could not entirely restrain his feelings, and could not have been expected to while his breast was being torn by a tempest of conflicting emotions. He presently kneeled at her side, and called softly:
"Itlza!" At the sound of her name on her loved one's lips she arose, and, throwing herself into his arms, cried in accents of unutterable woe:
"Cacami! Cacami!"
The lovers had arranged for a meeting in the conservatory, and Itlza, happy in the anticipation of an hour of sweet converse with her beloved, had come to fulfill her tryst, and, as we have seen, was met by the prince. Just when the latter, with mind wholly absorbed in the object which had brought him to the conservatory, was becoming impatient and imperative in his language at the unexpected evidence of a disinclination on the part of the former to look with favor upon his proposal to honor her above all other women, and she, too much frightened to think of anything save the terrible fact that her anticipations of a happy future with him she loved were about to be shipwrecked—forever swept away—Cacami, unheard by them, came upon the ground in the joyful expectation of soon meeting the object of his love. On discovering that Hualcoyotl was there ahead of him, talking with Itlza, and learning the significance of his presence from the few words which reached him, he was overwhelmed with amazement at the disclosure. He could not in honor remain to hear another word, so, quickly turning on his heel, withdrew.
The hopelessness of his suit with Itlza was at once apparent to the astounded lover; a king stood between them, and, according to law—an established fiat, especially favorable to rulers to protect them in their family relations, particularly in the choice of a wife—death would be the consequence should he marry her, or even persist in meeting her clandestinely and be detected in it.
It would have been different had he made Itlza his affianced previous to her coming to the palace, even without the knowledge of the mother and brother; and possibly afterward had he anticipated the prince; but now his chance was gone; and, O, how he regretted the delay. No one, save themselves, knew that they were lovers, so closely had they guarded their secret; and since no pledge of troth had been exchanged, they must bide the result.
How could he give her up? The more he reflected on the matter, the greater became his distress of mind. He did not for a moment think of Itlza as a willing listener to the king's proposal to make her his queen, and he resolved to return to the conservatory so soon as his royal rival should depart from it, to condole with her, which he did, only to find her in the throes of an utter hopelessness. Their discovery of each other, so full of woebegoneness, has been noted.
The despairing maiden clung to her lover, pleadingly, as if he might have saved her from her impending fate. He held her to his breast in a close embrace, and if endearing words and passionate kisses—the first he had dared to bestow—could have effected a relief to her overwrought feelings, they must have found it in his.
"You must not be torn from me thus," he said, passionately, after she had explained, between sobs and moans, how determined the prince was in his purpose. "No, dear, sorrowing Laughing-eyes, death alone shall separate us."
"What, indeed, O Cacami, but death or submission is left for both of us," moaned the hapless maiden.
"You put it well and true, Itlza. I had not thought of death for you; I was thinking only of myself; but, alas! the result will be the same for both of us. I should not ask of you so great a sacrifice. No, my poor, lorne love, I must give you up."
"You shall not give me up, Cacami! Let it be mine to choose whether I will wear a crown, or cleave to you at the risk of death. It will be no fault of yours, then, if I should choose to die," she answered, determinedly.
"What can I say? If I alone were held responsible I could quickly choose; but you, poor darling, must suffer too."
"If you can suffer for the love of me, why not I for a like reason? Is my love less powerful than yours, that I am a woman? Cacami, you shall not choose to cast me off, even if it be to save my life. The choice, I pray you, shall be mine."
"Then, if you will, choose wisely, Laughing-eyes; remembering that a crown and the love of a noble man are on one hand, while on the other are only Cacami and death."
"Yes, I will choose between you—the good king and Cacami—but it will not be to trample on my love—my heart. No, not for a crown at the hands of so good a man as Hualcoyotl," she answered, earnestly. Continuing, she said: "I would not lead you to death, O Cacami, my love; yet, I choose to go with you, even to that end."
"Then be it so; we will stand or fall together," he returned, holding her in a closer embrace.
An idea at this instant occurred to Itlza, and, gathering a little courage from it, she said:
"Why may we not escape to another country, Cacami, or to the mountains—anywhere, so we be not separated?"
"Hualcoyotl would find us though we were hidden in the fastness of the farthest mountain. No, Laughing-eyes, there is hope only in marriage, and the kindness of the court which shall try us; otherwise it must be separation or death," he replied, despondingly.
"Then, let us wed. I will be your bride, though it be unto death," she said, creeping closer to him.
"If you so decide, thus it shall be, my brave Laughing-eyes. We will wed, and, if need be, die together."
"I vow to you, O Cacami, that naught but death shall part us, and, since thus to you I give my pledge, I pray you bind it with the seal of troth," she said, trustingly, putting up her carmine-tinted lips to receive the kiss which was to seal the sacred compact. Their lips met, and two souls were united unto death by one prolonged, loving embrace, from which they drew calmness—the calmness which is found in the strength of a plighted faith, made enduring by the kiss, which, to them, was a seal, indissoluble except by death.
An alliance between the Mexican and Tezcucan kings, for the purpose of engaging in a crusade against the Tepanec monarch, was duly effected, and the usual preliminaries—a declaration of war, etc.—were gone through with, preparatory to the opening of hostilities.
Maxtla had reconstructed his imperial army, and his faith in its ability to cope with the combined armies of his adversaries led him to meet the demands made upon him with reckless defiance. He reckoned on having all the advantages of a defensive warfare on his side in which his opponents would be compelled to meet him on ground of his own choosing—a situation which would put him in a position of vantage not to be contemned.
Hualcoyotl, meanwhile, made many kindly advances with a view to reconciling Itlza to their contemplated union. She received his attentions with due respect, and at the same time tried to be affable, but there was that in her conduct which was not natural—a lack of spontaneity of manner, so marked in her former naive, unaffected bearing. The prince saw that he was not succeeding to any appreciable degree, and decided to let matters rest as they were, for the present, hoping that time, and a proper consideration of the advantages held out to her in a marriage with him, would work a favorable change in her inexplicable attitude, thus avoiding a resort to compulsory measures. Having decided on this course, he turned his attention wholly to state affairs, and the necessary preparations for leading his army to the field against his old enemy.
Ixtlilchoatl was again placed where he could exercise his wonderful genius as a leader of armies, by being put in command of the combined forces of Mexico and Tezcuco, leaving the kings to lead their respective warriors. The great aggregation, with the hermit chief at its head, was soon on the move, and the fight began. The campaign was a vigorous one, which, after a series of hard-fought battles, ended in Maxtla being forced back behind the walls of his capital, where he was encompassed and a close siege of the royal city entered upon.
In his confidence of being able to repel the invaders of his imperial domain the Tepanec monarch had neglected to provide against such an emergency as a siege, and was, therefore, wholly unprepared for it. Under such conditions it became, in due time, a question of surrender, or marching out and giving the beleaguerants battle. The result was a mass sally, and the ensuance of a desperate and bloody struggle, which terminated in the complete rout and dispersion of the beleaguered army, and Maxtla's undiscovered flight for personal safety.
The proud city of Azcapozalco was totally destroyed, and those of its inhabitants who were not killed, or did not get away, were doomed to a life of slavery, or death by sacrifice, while the territory of the once dominant empire was converted into a great slave mart—which, in after years, became the central market for that nefarious traffic for the whole of Anahuac.
Maxtla was hunted down, captured and turned over to the mercies of the Aztec king, who condemned him to death at the hands of the priests—a victim of sacrifice to the Mexican gods. Thus perished the most cruel and despotic of all the named princes of Anahuac, and was avenged one who proved himself to be the peer of the noblest.
In the destruction of the Tepanec domination was removed the only cause of apprehension to the new king of Tezcuco. He returned to his capital in the confidence of a perfect security, and engaged in his kingly duties with a mind free from the fear of invasion or opposition, and with the determination to make his reign a successful and brilliant one, which he did, as history records; in fact, it excelled in wisdom and grandeur that of any known prince of Anahuac, not excepting the Montezumas.
The king was again brought into daily intercourse with his household, a member of which Itlza continued to be. She had kept her own counsel, so far as her affairs with the prince and Cacami were concerned, leaving her family in ignorance of what had transpired. There had come a settled purpose in the expression of her face, which was careworn and deeply thoughtful.
Feeling secure in his rights as the king of Tezcuco, Hualcoyotl now felt that his palace should have a queen, and he resolved to bring matters between himself and Itlza to a crisis. So the first opportunity which should offer itself was to be improved to inform her that the marriage must take place at an early day. He had gone too far to recede from his purpose of making her his wife. He was a man of firmness, and would not be defeated in the accomplishment of designs so closely affecting his honor. He was a king, and the wish of a king was law.
It so happened that he met Itlza at the entrance to the conservatory, and, deeming it a favorable opportunity to make known his wishes, he requested her to accompany him within. He conducted her to the same bench on which she was seated at their former meeting.
Itlza divined the object he had in asking her to go with him to that sadly memorable spot, and her soul was filled with apprehension as to what would follow. When she was seated, Hualcoyotl, who continued to occupy a standing posture before her, began by saying:
"Itlza, you no doubt understand why I have brought you here. It is to talk with you about our marriage. You asked me for time. I have granted it to you to an extent which should satisfy you that I am desirous of showing you the greatest consideration. I have chosen to exalt you by making you my queen; in doing which I feel that I am conferring honorable distinction upon a most worthy family, as well as gratifying the fondest wish of my heart. I now ask that you will prepare to wed me at an early day. Let us have done with pleadings and expostulations, and look forward to our union with that happy anticipation which should mark the period of an approaching coronation of a lovely queen."
"You and yours, O King, have ever been friends of my people. From time immemorial my ancestors have served yours, and will doubtless continue to do so, faithfully and loyally. May I not ask, as the child of Euzelmozin, O Hualcoyotl, and, still, as the sister of your loyal servitor and friend, Euetzin, that you will deal kindly with us—me and mine, in this hour of my distress? I am sorely troubled, yes, even unto death."
Her pleading look and words were strangely at variance with the subject of marriage which the king had introduced, and he looked deeply perplexed—dazed—in consequence.
"Those are strange words, Itlza, very strange, indeed, coming from you, whom it is proposed to raise to the highest place a woman can fill in our country. What is the matter? It can not be that I am so repulsive, so repellant. Speak, Itlza, tell me; is this so?"
"O, no! no! You are the peer of the greatest and best, and worthy to wed whom you will; but, Hualcoyotl, I can not be your queen. I throw myself at your feet, and upon your compassion, imploring that you will send me away—forget me." She had dropped upon her knees in front of him, and was looking beseechingly up into his face. He gazed at her in confused amazement, and presently said:
"What have I done, O Itlza, to merit this remarkable rejection of my proposal?"
"You have done nothing, O best of friends. It is all my own doing; I have put an impassable barrier between us," she answered, dropping her head as if to hide her face from an expected blow.
"A barrier between us! What do you mean? Speak, I beseech you, and end this unparalleled and humiliating scene," spoke the patience-tried prince.
With head bowed down, the kneeling maiden answered in a shrinking voice:
"I mean, O king, that I am the wife of another."
Now, indeed, was Hualcoyotl dumbfounded. Had the earth opened at his feet he could not have been more astounded. He finally said, becoming angry and excited:
"Who has dared to come between the king and his chosen—his intended queen?"
Itlza was almost prostrated from the strain upon her feelings; and now, at hearing the prince's angry tones, began to sink, but managed, in a hoarse whisper, to say "Cacami," and then fell to the ground insensible.
Hualcoyotl was staggered as by a blow when he heard the name of Cacami fall from Itlza's lips. That estimable young warrior, counted among his closest friends, had deceived him. He turned away for a moment to strive with his rising anger and feelings of resentment; then back to where Itlza was lying. He looked at her in a commiserating manner, and exclaimed in a hard, pained voice:
"Itlza! Itlza! this from you, whom Hualcoyotl would have delighted to honor, and been so proud!" Her appearance seemed to stir the nobler impulses within the man, for he knelt down and began trying to bring about her resuscitation. While thus engaged he was suddenly made aware of the presence of Itzalmo, who, in passing through the conservatory, had discovered him striving with the unconscious maiden, and, becoming alarmed, cried out:
"Father of Light! what is the meaning of this? Is the child dead?"
"She is not dead, but 'twere better if she was," returned the prince, without pausing in his efforts to restore her to consciousness.
"Your words, O King, are very strange. Why do you speak thus?"
"I can not explain to you now, Itzalmo. You will retire, and at the instance of the king have Cacami arrested immediately. Go at once, and seek not to know more at present," returned he, showing great but restrained excitement.
Itzalmo left the conservatory in a state of wonderment at what he had seen and heard, and went immediately to execute the command of the king.
Itlza gradually returned to consciousness, through the endeavors of the prince, and, when sufficiently recovered to walk, was conducted in silence to her mother, who was told that she had fainted.
In a semiconscious condition she was taken charge of by her attendants, while the king passed to his private apartments to compose, if possible, his overwrought feelings.
In obedience to the king's fiat, Itzalmo had Cacami arrested and placed in confinement, to await the further action of his royal master.
Cacami was not surprised at his apprehension. He felt quite certain that a disclosure of his secret marriage would take place, should the king persist in pressing his suit with Itlza, which he did not doubt he would do, and which would be followed by his arrest and committal. He had taken the fatal step, knowing the consequences which would in all probability ensue, and now met them as became a man of courage, which he had on more than one occasion proven himself to be.
The king was distracted to the verge of madness at what he considered his humiliation, and in the heat of passion could think of nothing but punishment for the man who had brought it upon him. He therefore permitted no delay to occur in entering his charge against Cacami. In placing his charge, he put the case beyond his authority, and at the absolute disposal of a Tezcucan court of justice.
Hualcoyotl, in reestablishing the Tezcucan government, among other things, we may presume, adopted the laws and means of enforcing them which had prevailed at the close of his esteemed father's reign.
Although the governments of Anahuac were to a certain extent despotic, there was to be found much in them that was commendable; especially was this true of Tezcuco.
The enforcement of the laws was vested in a tribunal of justice, composed of judges appointed by the king, an appeal from which might be taken to a supreme magistrate, the highest authority in the government, from whose decision there was no appeal, not even to the king himself, though he had the power to make or unmake the court. We infer that, under certain circumstances, these courts were combined, forming a court whose findings were final. In the hands of such a tribunal rested the fate of Cacami and Itlza, the latter depending on the result of the former's arraignment.
We are told that the court proceedings were conducted with the greatest decorum. The judges wore a peculiar and appropriate dress, and were attended by officers whose duty it was to preserve order, while others summoned and brought the parties into court.
The court records were portrayed in hieroglyphical paintings, from which the decision of the judges was made. If the sentence proved to be capital, it was indicated by a line traced with an arrow across the portrait of the condemned, which was always a part of the record.
When the lovers determined to stake their lives on their fidelity to each other, they proceeded to settle the matter, at once and for all, by uniting themselves in marriage, which they did just before the armies of Mexico and Tezcuco marched against Maxtla, in which campaign Cacami bore a brave and honorable part. The ceremony of marriage was performed by a priest, in the prescribed form, and no earthly power could nullify its force, except a due process of law, and then only on just grounds for divorce, so strict was the law of marriage among these semicivilized people.
When Euetzin and his mother learned the true situation of affairs, the latter was horrified at the terrible dilemma into which her child had been brought, and was entirely overcome and prostrated from the effects of it. Euetzin was greatly troubled, dividing his sympathy between his friends. Having so lately experienced the power of love in his own case, with Mitla, he was deeply moved with compassion for his much-loved sister, and also felt a deep, friendly interest for Cacami. He was more hopeful of a favorable termination of the matter than anyone else, if, as he suspected, there was reason in the mad step they had taken. He resolved to enter the case, and, if in his power, clear the good name of his beloved sister, and that of his friend, from all opprobrium, and restore to them their freedom and their love.
The case of Hualcoyotl against Cacami was one of the first, of a special character, which came up for trial under the new organization of the courts.
The sessions of the court which was to try the case were held in a hall set apart for court purposes, called the hall of justice.
The day set for the hearing was at hand, and the court had convened. The judges, dressed in their court costumes, which gave them a solemn and dignified appearance, were in their seats. The chief officer in attendance had commanded silence, and a hush of expectancy had fallen upon those present. The case was an interesting one in its character, and prominent from the fact that the king was a party to it, and had attracted quite a large audience to witness the proceedings, which were opened by the presiding justice saying, very impressively:
"The keeper of records will read the order of the court for the delivery of one Cacami into its presence."
The official indicated rose up and read, in a manner peculiarly his own, yet native in the nasalized expression with which his delivery was effected:
"It is ordered," he began, scrutinizing with care the hieroglyphical painting, which he held up before him, "that Cacami, a warrior, be brought into the presence of this, the king's highest tribunal of justice, that he may have opportunity to show why he should not suffer the penalty of death for the violation of a sacred and duly established law of the realm."
The keeper of prisoners retired, and, after a few minutes' absence, returned, accompanied by Cacami. The young warrior was looking pale, but resolute. He walked with a firm step to his place in the court; and being a man of superb physique, admirably proportioned, with a bright eye and handsome face, his appearance elicited a murmur of voices, which was evidently an expression of admiration. Directly followed Itlza, in company with Euetzin. She was beautifully but plainly dressed, and never looked more attractive. The audience was perfectly quiet for a moment, while she was being seated, when its tongue again became active and a subdued buzz arose from it.
Itlza was given a seat near her husband, while the tzin occupied one only a short distance off. When she sat down, her hand quickly found its way into Cacami's, the clasp of which seemed to give her courage.
The officer, whose duty it was to observe order, commanded silence, and the chief justice proceeded to say:
"The keeper of records will read the charge under which the prisoner at the bar is held accused."
Again the nasalated twang of the recorder's voice was heard to wring out quite distinctly, as he read:
"It is charged that Cacami, a warrior and subject of the realm, contrary to, and in defiance of, a most sacred law of the same, did hurt and injure the feelings, and spoil the affections of Hualcoyotl, the king, by engaging and marrying with Itlza, a daughter of Euzelmozin, who was the chosen of Hualcoyotl to be his queen; to which charge Cacami shall give satisfactory answer, or stand convicted, and shall, if it be so decided, suffer the penalty therefor, which is death."
"What has the prisoner, Cacami, to say in answer to the charge under which he stands committed?" asked the judge of the accused.
Cacami rose in his place, and calmly replied:
"I will abide the decision of the court. Let the trial proceed."
We are informed by traditional history that the profession and practice of law was not extant among the Anahuacans. No counsel was, therefore, at hand to be employed in the defense of a prisoner or litigant. The parties involved in the trial stated their own case, and won or lost, according to the weight of the evidence furnished through their witnesses. In criminal cases the procedure was necessarily different, charges being preferred and published in open court, which the accused was compelled to refute or stand convicted.
The laws regulating testimony were most liberal. The accused was entitled to give evidence, and, if he so desired, address the court in his own behalf, and the force of what he said was not impaired by the fact that he was on trial.
After a few preliminary matters were attended to, the judge again addressed the accused:
"Cacami, the prisoner, will rise and answer."
Cacami stood up, and the judge continued:
"How long have you been acquainted with Itlza, the daughter of Euzelmozin?"
"I met her first, and made her acquaintance, about the time of Hualcoyotl's escape to the mountains."
"When did the desire to possess the maiden first enter your heart?" continued the judge.
"My heart went out to Itlza the first time I saw her, and I resolved to win her if I could."
"Did Itlza encourage you in this?"
"She certainly did."
"In what manner?"
"By teaching me to love her."
"When did Itlza become your affianced?"
"Only a few days before we were married."
"And when were you married?"
"Just before our army moved against Azcapozalco."
"Was there no understanding between you previous to the time of your betrothal that you were to wed?"
"There was not, except in the fact that we were acknowledged lovers, intending, in due time, to become affianced."
"About what time did you become acknowledged lovers?"
"A short time previous to the tourney at Tlacopan."
"The love was mutual?"
"I believe it was."
"And you said nothing about it to anyone?"
"I did not, and do not think she did."
"You should have informed the mother and brother of your attachment, if only in justice to them. Just here was your first mistake." Continuing, the judge inquired:
"Did you know at the time of your marriage that Itlza had been chosen by Hualcoyotl to be his queen?"
"I did."
"Were you aware of the consequences of such a step, under the circumstances?"
"I was."
"And took the step in the face of such knowledge?" questioned the judge in a severe stress of voice.
"Even so," answered Cacami, undaunted by the sternness of the judge; "rather than see her whom I love the wife of another, though that other was the king."
This answer produced such a commotion and hum of voices that the officer in attendance had to command order.
"Thus did you err a second time, and grievously," said the judge, and the court looked grave and foreboding.
Cacami was now told to be seated.
"Itlza will rise and answer," said the judge, addressing her courteously. When she had risen he continued:
"You are the wife of Cacami, the prisoner at the bar?"
"I am proud to acknowledge myself the wife of Cacami," was her earnest reply, accompanied by an affectionate glance at the object of her adoration.
"Did Cacami persuade you to do so unwise an act as to wed with him under the grave circumstances which existed at the time of your marriage?"
"Cacami did not persuade me. My love was pledged to him, and I was the first to say, let us wed, though it be unto death."
This declaration from Itlza was received by the spectators with evident admiration for her courage and fidelity; and, had it not been for the great respect in which the court was held, would have been followed by a demonstration of approval. The gravity of the judges, on the other hand, deepened, for in her answer, so earnestly and honestly given, she had convicted herself of voluntary complicity with Cacami in the offense against the king. It was not necessary to question her further, and she was told to be seated.
The tzin looked perplexed and troubled, on account of the gravity of the position in which his beloved sister's ingenuous reply had placed her.
"Euetzin will rise and answer," said the judge, at which the witness was not a little surprised, as he was not expecting a call at the moment.
"When did you learn of the marriage of your sister with the prisoner?"
"At the time of Cacami's arrest," he replied.
"Had you no previous knowledge or intimation of the sentiments entertained by the young people for each other?"
"None whatever. I did not even suspect it, though, since the facts have become known, I can see that I might have done so with reason."
"You have been a close and intimate friend of Cacami's, tzin Euet. Will you state to the court what you know of him personally?"
The court, like the audience, had been favorably impressed with the bearing and perfect candor of the young people, who were being tried for their lives, and was evidently seeking palliating conditions relevant to their case. The last quest of the judge could have been made with no other intent. It was just the position in which the tzin desired to be placed; for it gave him the ear of the court, and the liberty to address it in behalf of his friend, without the fear of interruption so long as he observed a due regard for its dignity. He began by saying:
"The court is very kind in conferring upon me the liberty to address it—a privilege I very much desired, for which I am profoundly thankful." Here the tzin made his obeisance to the court, and continued:
"I have known Cacami long enough, and well enough, to be able to speak of him in no doubtful language. Cacami and myself labored side by side for the freedom of Tezcuco, in times that tried the patriotism of her sons. I know him to be a patriot and true friend, which I have proven, not only once, but many times. He is a brave and valiant warrior, to which our noble Hualcoyotl can bear abundant testimony. He is a true man, in that he has staked his life in an issue which involves those emotions and sentiments of the heart which honor a man above all others—a pure, unsullied love for the woman of his choice. He stands to-day, though a prisoner at the bar of justice, a man to whom Tezcuco owes as much as to any one person within or without her borders. Had it not been for the strong right arm of this valiant man, both as citizen and warrior, Hualcoyotl would not be king to-day. You look at me in amazement, and well you may, for the words I speak are the words of truth and soberness; and when this court condemns to die the warrior Cacami, for following the dictates of an attachment stronger than the fear of death, it robs Tezcuco of one of her bravest and best; a man to whom every Tezcucan should give honor and respect, which is his due; for out of his hand came the life of Hualcoyotl, the king, whom all delight to honor." The audience, at this point in the tzin's speech, was like a mine prepared, ready to break out in a storm of approval, from the effect of his impressive eloquence. His heart was in the subject, and his face illumined by the earnestness of his effort to place the character of his friend in the best possible light before the judges. He continued:
"The words of commendation which I am compelled to speak in behalf of the warrior Cacami are not spoken out of sympathy for a friend who is passing through an ordeal, but from a feeling of regard for his personal worth. I admire a man who is brave and fearless in the discharge of his duty, be that duty what it may. Such a man is found in the prisoner at the bar—the man whom you are to liberate or condemn to death. I do not negative the possibility that a feeling of friendship for the accused may influence me to some extent in what I say; it could hardly be otherwise; but, while this may be admitted, there underlies it all an esteem and admiration for the man—as a man—which have developed through daily intercourse and observation, and which would obtain were we less friendly. My language has not been too strong, I would impress upon you, but rather lacking in strength; for the words have not yet been coined that will do justice to the worth of him whom the law would condemn. Were the king to stand in my place at this moment, I believe that he would, in the magnanimity of his noble nature, be compelled to reecho the words I have spoken. If worth, in those attributes which are esteemed above all others in a man's character: honesty, fidelity, courage, and patriotism, may be counted in the prisoner's favor, then I pray the court to give him the benefit of its weight; for, if any man is entitled to it, that man is Cacami, the defendant at the bar."
It will be in order here to enlighten the reader relative to the demeanor of the king during the time which elapsed after he entered the charge against Cacami up to the day of his trial.
When too late to recall his action, the sting of mortification and chagrin having subsided sufficiently to permit him to reason, Hualcoyotl became conscious of the fact that he had acted rashly and unwisely. When he recalled the many instances wherein Cacami had stood between him and death, especially when, a stranger to him, he had undoubtedly saved him from the fate which finally overtook his enemy, the Tepanec king, he was filled with remorse for the ungenerous course he had taken. He had promised to remember his deliverer in the future, and how had he done it? By committing him to the mercy of an exacting tribunal of justice, from the decision of which there was no appeal.
The day of trial found the repentant king wrought up to a degree of mental excitement so great that he could not be composed for a minute. He walked the floor of his apartments almost incessantly, and would see no one. He was waiting impatiently for a summons to appear before the court, but no summons came. It came to that point when he could endure the suspense no longer, and he resolved to go to the hall uncalled, where he would listen to the proceedings unobserved. He came to the door of the court-room and paused, just in time to hear Itlza's last answer, which condemned her, in the minds of the judges. When the tzin rose to give in his testimony—which proved to be more in the nature of a speech—he was all attention, and heard every word the speaker said, apparently forgetting his distress of mind in the absorption of the moment, while listening to his friend's eloquent plea.
When Euetzin concluded his address to the court, and was seated, Hualcoyotl entered the hall and walked straight to the spot on which the former had stood, and paused. The court and spectators were astonished alike at the singular conduct of the king. His majesty was laboring under suppressed excitement and, for a moment, after facing the court, appeared unable to speak. He, however, quickly recovered his equanimity, and spoke as follows:
"Well, and true, did my friend, the tzin, speak, when he said the king would be compelled to reecho his words were he standing in his place. I am here to confirm, in the presence of this great tribunal, the words Euetzin has spoken. And, further, to admit that, while overwhelmed with humiliation and chagrin at my defeat, I did err in causing the arrest and committal of the warrior Cacami. Hualcoyotl would better kiss than smite the hand that delivered him from his enemy. The defendant at the bar once saved your king from a terrible death at the hands of Maxtla; and, now, instead of remembering the brave act of his deliverer, as he should, your king so far forgot his obligation as to consign him to a fate hardly less severe than that from which he rescued him. The disposition of the case is in the hands of this tribunal, from the decision of which there is no appeal. If, in the end, Cacami is found guilty, he must die, and with him Itlza, his wife, who is equally liable. Since it was my hand that brought the accused to his present position of a threatened destruction, most willingly would I step into his place, if I might, and bear the penalty of his offense, but that can not be; our laws recognize no substitutions, and the defendant must suffer if found guilty of the charge. If there be extenuating circumstances favorable to the warrior Cacami, your king prays the court to employ them to his advantage. If, by any honorable means, a suspension of action, or mitigation of sentence might be effected, great will be the relief and satisfaction of your sovereign."
The king took a seat near the accused, and at once assumed the relation of an interested friend. Itlza saw him now as the noble and magnanimous prince he had always seemed to her; Cacami felt the weight of his impending doom grow lighter in the friendly attitude of the king, while Euetzin only recognized in the action the generous, forgiving man he knew his royal friend to be.
The judges consulted together for a few minutes, when an adjournment of the court followed.
The court retired to another room for the purpose of holding a private consultation, at which the king was invited to be present. After an absence of quite a half hour it returned and the session was resumed.
Cacami was in his place, with the faithful Itlza beside him.
The presiding judge proceeded to address the prisoner and his friends. After informing them that a decision had been reached by the court, he continued, by saying:
"The case we have been called to consider is an extraordinary one. The accused is represented to be a man of sterling qualities, and worthy of our highest regard. He is charged, however, with a grave offense against his king. The evidence is not wanting to make a case against him, but there have come to our notice, during the trial, conditions which place the court in doubt as to the wisdom of a further prosecution of the defendant. Since this is true, the court has decided, at the instance of the king, who is the injured party, to dismiss the case. The accused is, therefore, honorably discharged from the custody of the court."
Itlza, forgetting all save her great joy, in knowing that Cacami was free, threw herself upon his breast and wept.
Cacami was deeply affected, but he belonged to a race of men who scorned to exhibit a weakness, under any circumstances, and was calm while he held in his strong embrace the weeping Itlza.
Hualcoyotl was the first to speak to them, and, in doing so, assured his now successful rival that he experienced great pleasure in knowing that he was free.
Euetzin was quite rejoiced, and, with a happy smile upon his face, so lately covered by a cloud of anxiety, conducted his now joyful sister and her forever-famous young husband from the court-room, and into the presence of Teochma, the mother, who received them with demonstrations of joy and gladness, forgetting, in the happiness of the moment, her disappointment at not becoming the mother of a queen.