 | CHAPTER I. Centeola |  |
1. CHAPTER I.
I dip deep into the shadowy past. I write of an age,
since which the suns of seven hundred summers have
wheeled over the broad and beautiful prairies of the West.
I narrate the events of an era in the primitive history of
that prolific garden of the continent, which was marked
by the compulsory exodus of one of the different great
races of the Red Men, who have there lived, fulfilled the
periods of their respective destinies, and successively
passed away before the influx of the ruder and stronger
peoples of the North, each appearing and disappearing in
turn — waves in the ocean of Time.
At the northerly extremity of a romantic valley,
lying along the banks of a noble river, and situated then,
as now, about midway between the most south-westerly
of the great lakes and the great river of the West, there
sat on a mossy bank, on the day and hour chosen for the
and seer of his tribe, gazing out wistfully over the
broad expanse stretching away as far as the eye could
reach before him. It was a bright mid-summer morning.
A wide sea of waving verdure everywhere overspread
the flowery prairie. The long chain of encircling
hills, as clothed with its deepest tinted forest foliage;
while beneath coursed the glittering rivers, like cords
of silver thrown around the valley to mark it off
from the bold mountain margin, which everywhere enclosed
it. Prairie, grove and hill-side, were all vocal
with the varied music of the myriad birds, that were gaily
disporting within and around them, and waking their
solitudes to seeming mirth and melody, and all nature
appeared to be rejoicing in the perfection of her young
life and beauty.
But the Sage heeded none of these. His troubled
thoughts were engrossed by the portents of the times
connected with the destinies of his nation, which embraced
the seven confederate tribes of the noted Azatlan and its
proud capital, called the Imperial City; while ever and
anon he sent searching glances over the prairie, expectant
of the appearance of one who had become the light
and hope of his life, and who would, he believed, if any
one could still prove so, become the saviour of her country.
While thus musing his attention was arrested by the
sound of approaching footsteps, and turning, he beheld
him.
“Venerated Sage,” meekly said the young warrior
in reply to the enquiring looks of the other, although “I
have crossed your path unwittingly, I can scarcely say
I regret it, for I find myself in the presence of one
who can impart lessons of wisdom to all, who, like myself,
would gladly receive them.”
“Thou hast seen and heard of me, then?” slowly
responded the old man, fixing a scrutinizing look on the
face of the handsome young warrior.
“Ay; and where shall we find one who has not heard
of the good Alcoan, the Sage and Seer of the Feathered
Serpents, the wisest of the seven tribes that do fealty to
the king of the Imperial City?”
“By that token, young warrior, and the knowledge
that I am now in the vicinity of the place thou hast
named, as well as by thine outward equipment, I judge
thee to be from thence.”
“The Sage has judged rightly, I am from the great
city.”
“Thou mayest, then, be the son of a noble — perchance
of a chief?”
“Again hast thou conjectured correctly, Sage. I am
the son of a chief. My name is Tulozin, and I am the
only heir to the chiefdom of my tribe.”
“Of the chiefdom of what tribe dost thou speak?”
“That of the warlike tribe of the Buffalos, whose
broad lands and hunting grounds, as Alcoan well knows,
extend from the great river on the west, till they meet the
lands of the Feathered Serpents on the East.”
“Ay, and it is a tribe of which thou needest not be
ashamed, young Chief. But what doest thou in the Imperial
City?”
“Not much at present; but Alcoan knows that the
chiefs of the seven tribes and a select number of their
nobles, are required to reside mainly in the Imperial City
to make up the Court and Council of the King. My
father's head has become white with the frosts of years.
He begins to sigh for the tranquility of his old lodge
among the quiet retreats of his trusty and loving people,
and he lately sent for me, that, before he retires, I may
receive his instructions touching the duties of the high
post of honor at Court which he is now soon to vacate
in my favor.”
“I see, young chief, I see. The objects of thy ambition
for place and power are about to be realized; and in
the realization, thou doubtless countest on a bright career
of honor and happiness. So ever calculate the ardent and
aspiring young. They see only brightness in their path,
and that brightness is to last forever. It may be that their
visions of pleasure and power will all be fulfilled. But
hast thou not heard of the black cloud that is rising in
the north?”
“I have; and I know also the uneasiness it is creating
among the people and rulers of the Imperial City. But
still it creates no serious alarm, and why should it, good
Alcoan? Thou doubtless rememberest how ten summers
ago, a similar cloud of war appeared in the same direction,
how greatly were the people alarmed, and how the King
and Council promptly ordered not only their own city to
be fortified, but that all the confederate tribes should provide
against the common danger by raising strong defensive
works in the form and fashion of the Totemic emblems
of their respective tribes, and how all this was
accordingly done, the Buffalos fashioning the defensive
works around their village in the form of a buffalo — the
Panthers theirs in the shape of a panther, the Feathered
Serpents in the shape of a coiled serpent, and thus
through all the seven tribes. And thou also rememberest,
Sage, how then that threatening war cloud suddenly ceased
rolling towards us.”
“I remember it all, Tulozin.”
“And are not all those defensive works still existing,
and even made stronger than before by recent repairs?”
“It may be so, young chief.”
“And again, O Sage, are not our people stronger now
than theirs?”
“In some respects, perhaps; but in the meanwhile have
not the countless horde of our barbarian foes probably
grown stronger in all respects? At their former show of
of the great lake of the North from some cold and sterile
region far beyond. They were then doubtless sadly wayworn,
and without the food and equipments necessary for
offensive campaigns; and they paused and spread themselves
out over that land which divides the rivers running
North, from those running South, to supply their wants,
and gather strength for the onward march for the milder
regions hereabouts, at which they were aiming. And
that needed strength they have doubtless gathered in the
ten years interval which has since elapsed. So at last
they must believe; for they are again concentrated, and in
motion towards us, having already nearly reached, it is
said, the borders of our fair and fertile domains, which
they are intent on seizing. Yes, Tulozin, they are
moving down upon us with the stern resolve of our subjugation,
and with a prospect of success which may well
make us tremble for the result.”
“The infirmities of age, good Alcoan, may have made
you timid and prone to magnify the danger. Even if it
be as you say about the determination of the foe to invade
us, we are prepared for the onset. All the tribes have
their sufficient defenses; while the Imperial City has been
doubly fortified. And besides all this, ever since the former
menaced advance of the enemy, the King and Council
have been propitiating the god of war, the great
Mexitlo, by the yearly sacrifice of a virgin to his honor;
this crisis, and present him an offering which shall be
adequate to his greatest possible requirements, it is proposed,
at the sacred festival, which as you may be aware,
is to be held in his name to-morrow and next day, to sacrifice
to him a whole score of the fairest virgins of the
land.”
“Ah, Tulozin, blinded Tulozin! In the strength on
which thou thus countest for the Imperial City, will lie,
according to my light, its greatest weakness and danger.
There is but one God who has any control over the affairs
and destinies of men. He created all — governs all.
He is the only true and Supreme God; and if there be
any such bloody gods as thou hast named, they have no
power to hurt or help us, for they are all subject to his
will. He is also a just God, prospering or punishing men
and nations according to their deserts, and He, too, is a
good God and cannot but be offended by the sacrifice of
any of his earthly children, all of whom are the objects
of his love, his care and protection.”
“Alcoan, I know, is a wise man, and among the Seers
of the land; but he does not talk like the Seers of the
Imperial City, with whom till now, I had supposed he
agreed. Has he seen and consulted with any of them?”
“Ay, young chief, I have. Not many moons ago, a
deputation of their number, or of higher officials, it may
be, acting for and with them, came to his lodge at the village
beautiful river, where it begins to turn to the west. After
disclosing their own views, they demanded his. He gave
them. But they would heed none of his words of truth
and warning; and they turned scornfully away from his
auguries. Much less would they listen to those of one
to whom he referred them — of her whose light, compared
with his, is as the light of the sun to the torch of
the night-hunters.”
“Who is that of whom thou so highly speakest, good
Alcoan?”
“It is Centeola — the young, the beautiful and the
greatly gifted.”
“Is she not thy daughter, O Sage?”
“Only in the spirit, young chief.”
“What then is her lineage? One so gifted as thou claimest
her every way to be, should surely be of noble blood.”
“She is more than that; but of her lineage I may not
speak. I may have some knowledge on the subject, but
the time has not yet arrived for disclosing the secret,
though it may not now be far distant.”
“Is she not an inmate of thy lodge?”
“It is even so.”
“And has she not always been with thee?”
“Nay — many years, but not always.”
“Whence came she, then?”
“Thou pressest me more closely in this matter, young
tell thee, perhaps, which many others of my tribe know,
that she was left at the door of my lodge, when she was
too young to know whence she came, or of whom she was
the offspring.”
“But hadst thou not thyself means of forming a conjecture
respecting her origin?”
“Yea, young chief, I soon believed I had. Though
the child's outer garment was a coarse one, put on, doubtless
as a disguise, yet her inner garments were of fine and
peculiar texture, which I thought significant of the character
of her parentage. This alone, however, was not
conclusive, but I soon discovered an article which gave
me a direct clue to the mystery. It was a small silver
amulet, marked with a particular device, which being suspended
from her neck beneath all her clothing, had not,
through some inadvertence probably, been removed.
This clue I followed up till I had discovered all; but I
locked up the secret in the deepest recesses of my bosom,
for I believed that to be the better wisdom, and
the better course for the welfare of the child. I knew
she was a castaway, for whom no one had a thought
except to get rid of her. But my philosophy taught me
that the good Providence who must condemn, while
it, for wise purposes, permitted the wrongs she had
unconsciously suffered, would bless the lodge where
she was kindly received. I therefore took her in
in the result. She had come to me as a white-winged
dove, bringing peace and blessings to my lodge. Every
thing began to prosper with me as never before. I
knew the cause, and was anxious for the continuance of the
blessings, and the happiness which the performance of
this duty brought me. I redoubled my efforts for the
welfare and improvement of the beautiful child.”
“And did she improve so as to reward all thy exertions,
good Alcoan?”
“She did, as thou shalt hear, Tulozin. I had ever been
a worshiper of intellect. And why should I not be; for it is,
when not perverted by passion, a part of God himself. And
thus regarding this spark of divinity within us, what wonder
that I should delight to see it developed in one who had
become so dear to me. Having early perceived in her the
marks of an extraordinary mind, I resolved to go on polishing
the gem assiduously and unremittingly, to see to
what degree of brilliancy it might be made to attain. I
therefore trained her mind with the most anxious care, imparting,
as fast as she could be made to receive and comprehend
it, all the learning of which I myself was master, and
then toiled seeking out new treasures of knowledge that
I might add still further to the wondrous progress she
was so obviously making. And by the time she began to
approach the confines of womanhood, I found myself communing
with one, who, as I was daily made conscious, had
Then when she had grasped all the knowledge which men
are generally permitted to possess, she began to soar still
higher and pierce into the mystic future. And it was
then, also, that a great marvel began to appear in the
mind-power of each of us. In proportion as her light increased
in strength and brightness, mine seemed to diminish
and gradually to withdraw itself from the events of
the future into the limits of the present and past; so that
now, as regards us two, she has become the Seer and I
only the Sage.”
“Your words fill me with wonder and admiration.
But is it indeed true that Alcoan, whose fame for auguries
is known throughout all Azatlan, can no longer claim
to be among the Seers of the land?”
“No longer, young chief; his light is absorbed in the
brighter one.”
“I will then ask of him as a Sage what I had thought
to ask of him as a Seer — has he any fears that our proud
and populous Azatlan can ever be overrun and conquered
by the hostile horde now threatening us at the North?”
“He has such fears, Tulozin.”
“Wherefore can such fears arise? Alcoan cannot reason
from anything that can now be discerned by others.”
“That may partly be so, young chief. But Alcoan has
deeply studied the general course of human events, and
seen what constitutes the strength, and what the weakness
their youth, their manhood, their age, and their death or
dispersion. One after another, in the long course of time,
they appear in some goodly land, like this of ours, grow
strong and flourish, till, at length becoming weak or wicked,
they fade away and give place to some stronger race.
They are born and grow hardy in the North, to prepare
them for brighter and perhaps stouter careers in the milder
regions. They appear always to come from the North
and move towards the South, and never in the contrary
directions. And thus, in their different periods, they successively
sweep over the land, like the billows that chase
each other over the great lakes of the North. We know
by tokens we find in the earth, as well as from the traditions
of our fathers, that in early times — the times beginning,
perhaps, soon after Azatlan rose from the broad
waste of waters once extending from our great lake at the
North to the great sea at the South — we know that a
great nation lived here in the land now occupied by us,
fulfilled its period and disappeared. Our nation is here
now, but is it destined long to remain so? The history
of the past bids me to say no! The condition of our
over-ripe nation says no; and finally the portents of the
times all echo back the answer, no! Are not these things
so, Tulozin? Is not the black storm-cloud already throwing
its portentous shadow across our borders in its approach?
And when was such a cloud ever turned back
in its course?”
“Sage, I am sorely perplexed by your strange and boding
discourse. But surely our nation cannot come within
your meaning. Its destiny cannot yet be fulfilled. It
should be still in the strength of the middle age.”
“Ay, should be, but is not. If the head of a middle
aged man becomes diseased, will his body and limbs remain
healthy and strong, or will they become weak and
paralyzed?”
“I know not that I understand thee, Sage. The head
of our nation is the Imperial City; does the Sage deem
that to be diseased?”
“Young chief, I might well say more, but thou art not
prepared to hear it now. Be content with what I have
spoken, and ponder it well.”
“For thy own opinions, then, Sage, I will not now further
press thee. But thou mayst, perhaps, give me those of
another. I would know what is reflected from that bright
light of which you have so warmly spoken. I would
know more of the fair and gifted Centeola. Thou wast
expecting to meet her here about this time, it may be?”
“And, may be, so wast thou, young chief.”
“Sage, thou hast read me closely.”
“Confess thyself freely then. Tell me why thou hast
enquired of me so particularly concerning her, and what
were thy reasons for supposing her to be on her way
hither?”
“I had not foreseen this turn in our communings, wise
now askest me. But as I have pressed thee to tell me
more, perchance, than I had just right to require of thee,
I cannot now, it may be, well refuse to respond to thy
questions. I will therefore tell thee frankly.”
“It were better for thee to do so, young chief.”
“The Sage, doubtless, knows how to make allowances
for the errors of youth, if in me such errors be found.
Let him hear me then forbearingly; forgive, if he cannot
approve, and he shall be told the truth, though it may demean
me in his sight.”
“Alcoan never judges harshly of a man, when he perceives
that truth and sincerity are at the bottom of his
heart.”
“I proceed then, Sage. About twelve moons ago, while
living with my tribe, the spirit of adventure was strong
upon me. It took various shapes, but of one only have I
need to speak. The fame of the great beauty of Centeola,
the marvellous maid of the Feathered Serpents, had
reached me; and I at length resolved to go to her village,
that with my own eyes I might judge of one whose name
had been on so many tongues. And disguised as a poor
vender of female ornaments, I travelled to your favored
village, and called at the door of thy lodge, saw and
had slight speech with thee. But learning from thee that
the one I thought must be her whom I sought, was out
with her maiden companions in the borders of a neighboring
I soon came upon a merry group of maidens, some gathering
wild flowers, some warbling in chorus with the feathered
songsters, and some trying to snare small birds of
rich plumage for their feathered embroidery. They were
all beautiful; but one of them was of such surpassing
loveliness and womanly dignity, that I became as one suddenly
transfixed in speechless admiration before some
bright vision. I knew it was Centeola; for her maiden
companions, gathering round her as if for protection, called
her so. She cast on me a look of mingled rebuke and
inquiry. But such was my confusion that I forgot all
about the excuse of offering my wares, could make no explanation
or apology for my intrusion, and retired abashed
from her presence, at once setting out on my return to my
tribe, but carrying with me the deeply impressed image
of her whose appearance had so overpowered my senses.
Such, Sage, is my confession, and in it thou wilt read the
interest I have ever since felt in Centeola and the reason
why I have inquired about her so particularly. I have
disclosed this with much misgiving, and hardly hope for
thy approbation. But I may at least claim the merit of
having spoken the words of truth and frankness.”
“That much is certainly thine, young chief. 'Tis not
often that youth can be brought to expose their follies so
frankly. But my other question — how thou camest to
expect Centeola here, at this time, remains yet unanswered.”
“What I have already told thee, Sage, was my own secret
to disclose or withhold, as I chose. But what thou
now askest may perhaps involve some of the secrets of the
council, to which I am beginning to have access, but of
which I am not permitted to speak. And as I cannot
promise the same frankness in answering this as in answering
thy other questions, perhaps thou wilt be content
with the statement that our rulers have many means of
knowing what is passing among the tribes, which is not
generally understood.
“Thou admittest then, that those rulers have their
secret emissaries among the people?”
“They do not call them so, Sage. They consider them
as men sent out to see and report the condition of the
nation.”
“And was it from these that thy knowledge of Centeola's
approach to the Imperial City, to-day, was obtained?”
“Tulozin cannot deny it.”
“What then did they believe to be the object of her
coming?”
“To be present at the coming festival, they supposed;
and it appeared to gratify them, that so famed a beauty
was about to grace the ceremonies with her presence.”
“If they suppose Centeola comes to minister to the lawless
gaze of the young nobles, or even the less questionable
curiosity of the gaping multitude, they reason without
knowledge. Centeola comes on a higher mission.”
“What may that mission be, good Alcoan?”
“I may not tell thee, young chief.”
“Not if I might aid her in her purposes?”
“Nay, nay, young chief. And even were I at liberty
to disclose to thee her objects, the disclosure would be
more likely to displease than gratify thee.”
“I cannot fathom thy words, O Sage. Centeola is as
pure and good as she is beautiful, and she cannot be engaged
in aught which is not right; and with what is right
to be done, Tulozin can never be displeased. I have
proved to thee, Sage, I think, how great is my regard and
reverence for her, and you can readily believe from all
my words and actions, how much I should be gratified to
win her favor.”
“I understand thee, young chief, but cannot encourage
thee. With thy present views and feelings in all the matters
which are now most engrossing our care and anxiety,
and with the approbation thou hast shown of measures
which our rulers propose for averting the calamities now
threatening the country, there is a wall between thee and
Centeola as long as Earth and as high as Heaven. Before
letting thy thoughts stray further in the direction, in
which, it seems, thou hast permitted them unwisely to
wander, wait till thou hast seen her, and heard her speak
of the high duties she has undertaken to perform. She
will now soon make her appearance.”
“How soon, O Sage?” asked the young chief, after dropping
and perplexity.
“Look at the shadows,” returned the Sage. “Thine
eyes are clearer than mine. Watch them closely, a moment,
to see whether they are still shortening, or pausing
before they turn to the lengthening?”
The young chief did so, and soon reported that the
shade of the tree he had been inspecting was stationary.
“The time has arrived, then,” said the Sage. “Centeola
was to be here when the shadows were the shortest.
So now send thy gaze along over the mid line of the prairie,
and tell me what thou seest?”
“I see,” said the young chief, after a long and searching
gaze in the indicated direction — “I see quite a number
of moving specks, far out on the prairie. Ay, and
they are coming this way. They move like a band of
travellers.”
“Ah! it is doubtless Centeola and her train,” exclaimed
the sage with an air of animation, rising and
advancing to obtain a view for himself.
| CHAPTER I. Centeola | |