University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.
THE PURSUIT BEGINS.

IN the afternoon the king Cuitlahua, whose sickness had
greatly increased, caused himself to be taken to Chapultepec,
where he judged he would be safer from the enemy
and better situated for treatment by his doctors and nurses.
Before leaving, however, he appointed a deputation of ancients,
and sent them, with his signet and a message, to
Guatamozin.

The 'tzin, about the same time, changed his quarters
from the teocallis, now but a bare pavement high in air,
to the old Cû of Quetzal'. That the strangers must shortly
attempt to leave the city he knew; so giving up the assault
on the palace, he took measures to destroy them, if possible,
while in retreat. The road they would move by
was the only point in the connection about which he was
undecided. Anyhow, they must seek the land by one of
the causeways. Those by Tlacopan and Tepejaca were
the shortest; therefore, he believed one or the other of
them would be selected. Upon that theory, he accommodated
all his preparations to an attack from the lake, while
the foe were outstretched on the narrow dike. As sufficient
obstructions in their front, he relied upon the bridgeless
canals; their rear he would himself assail with a force
chosen from the matchless children of the capital, whose
native valor was terribly inflamed by the ruin and suffering
they had seen and endured. The old Cû was well located
for his part of the operation; and there, in the sanctuary,
surrounded by a throng of armed caciques and lords, the
deputies of the king Cuitlahua found him.

If the shade of Mualox lingered about the altar of the
peaceful god, no doubt it thrilled to see the profanation of
the holy place; if it sought refuge in the cells below, alas!
they were filled by an army in concealment; and if it went
further, down to what the paba, in his poetic madness, had
lovingly called his World, alas again! the birds were dead,
the shrubs withered, the angel gone; only the fountain
lived, of Darkness a sweet voice singing in the ear of
Silence.

So the 'tzin being found, this was the message delivered
to him from the king Cuitlahua: —

“May the gods love you as I do! I am sick with the
sickness of the strangers. Come not near me, lest you be
taken also. I go to Chapultepec to get ready for death.
If I die, the empire is yours. Meantime, I give you all
power.”

Guatamozin took the signet, and was once more master, if
not king, in the city of his fathers. The deputies kissed his
hand; the chiefs saluted him; and when the tidings reached
the companies below, the cells rang as never before, not
even with the hymns of their first tenants.

While yet the incense of the ovation sweetened the air
about him, he looked up at the image of the god, — web of
spider on its golden sceptre, dust on its painted shield, dust
bending its plumes of fire; he looked up into the face, yet
fair and benignant, and back to him rushed the speech of
Mualox, clear as if freshly spoken, — “Anahuac, the beautiful,
— her existence, and the glory and power that make it a
thing of worth, are linked to your action. O 'tzin, your fate
and hers, and that of the many nations, is one and the
same!” and the beating of his pulse quickened thrice; for
now he could see that the words were prophetic of his
country saved by him.

Then up the broad steps of the Cû, into the sanctuary,

and through the crowd, rushed Hualpa; the rain streamed
from his quilted armor; and upon the floor in front of the
'tzin, with a noise like the fall of a heavy hammer, he
dropped the butt of a lance to which was affixed a Christian
sword-blade.

“At last, at last, O 'tzin!” he said, “the strangers are in
the street, marching toward Tlacopan.”

The company hushed their very breathing.

“All of them?” asked the 'tzin.

“All but the dead.”

Then on the 'tzin's lip a smile, in his eyes a flash as of flame.

“Hear you, friends?” he said. “The time of vengeance
has come. You know your places and duty. Go, each one.
May the gods go with you!”

In a moment he and Hualpa were alone. The latter bent
his head, and crossing his hands upon his breast said, —

“When the burthen of my griefs has been greatest, and
I cried out continually, O 'tzin, you have held me back,
promising that my time would come. I doubt not your better
judgment, but — but I have no more patience. My
enemy is abroad, and she, whom I cannot forget, goes with
him. Is not the time come?”

Guatamozin laid his hand on Hualpa's: —

“Be glad, O comrade! The time has come; and as
you have prepared for it like a warrior, go now, and get the
revenge so long delayed. I give you more than permission,
— I give you my prayers. Where are the people who are to
go with you?”

“In the canoes, waiting.”

They were silent awhile. Then the 'tzin took the lance,
and looked at the long, straight blade admiringly; under its
blue gleam lay the secret of its composition, by which the
few were able to mock the many, and ravage the capital and
country.

“Dread nothing; it will conquer,” he said, handing the
weapon back.

Hualpa kissed his hand, and replied, “I thought to
make return for your preferments, O 'tzin, by serving you
well when you were king; but the service need not be put
off so long. I thank the gods for this night's opportunity.
If I come not with the rising of the sun to-morrow,
Nenetzin can tell you my story. Farewell!”

With his face to his benefactor, he moved away.

“Have a care for yourself!” said the 'tzin, regarding him
earnestly; “and remember there must be no sign of attack
until the strangers have advanced to the first causeway. I
will look for you to-morrow. Farewell!”

While yet the 'tzin's thoughts went out compassionately
after his unhappy friend, up from their irksome hiding in the
cells came the companies he was to lead, — a long array in
white tunics of quilted cotton. At their head, the uniform
covering a Christian cuirass, and with Christian helm and
battle-axe, he marched; and so, through the darkness and
the storm, the pursuit began.