University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
THE CONQUEROR WILL COME.

A FEW weeks more, — weeks of pain, vacillation, embassies,
and distracted councils to Montezuma; of
doubt and anxiety to the nobles; of sacrifice and ceremonies
by the priests; of fear and wonder to the people.
In that time, if never before, the Spaniards became the one
subject of discourse throughout Anahuac. In the tianguez,
merchants bargaining paused to interchange opinions about
them; craftsmen in the shops entertained and frightened
each other with stories of their marvellous strength and
ferocity; porters, bending under burdens, speculated on

their character and mission; and never a waterman passed
an acquaintance on the lake, without lingering awhile to ask
or give the latest news from the Holy City, which, with the
best grace it could, still entertained its scourgers.

What Malinche — for by that name Cortes was now
universally known — would do was the first conjecture;
what the great king intended was the next.

As a matter of policy, the dismal massacre in Cholula
accomplished all Cortes proposed; it made him a national
terror; it smoothed the causeway for his march, and held
the gates of Xoloc open for peaceful entry into Tenochtitlan.
Yet the question on the many tongues was, Would
he come?

And he himself answered. One day a courier ran up the
great street of Tenochtitlan to the king's palace; immediately
the portal was thronged by anxious citizens. That
morning Malinche began his march to the capital, — he was
coming, was actually on the way. The thousands trembled
as they heard the news.

After that the city was not an hour without messengers
reporting the progress of the Spaniards, whose every step
and halt and camping-place was watched with the distrust of
fear and the sleeplessness of jealousy. The horsemen and
footmen were all numbered; the personal appearance of each
leader was painted over and over again with brush and
tongue; the devices on the shields and pennons were described
with heraldic accuracy. And though, from long
service and constant exposure and repeated battles, the
equipments of the adventurers had lost the freshness
that belonged to them the day of the departure from
Cuba; though plumes and scarfs were stained, and casques
and breastplates tarnished, and good steeds tamed by strange
fare and wearisome marches, nevertheless the accounts that
went abroad concerning them were sufficiently splendid

and terrible to confirm the prophecies by which they were
preceded.

And the people, made swift by alarm and curiosity, out-marched
Cortes many days. Before he reached Iztapalapan,
the capital was full of them; in multitudes, lords and slaves,
men, women, and children, like Jews to the Passover, scaled
the mountains, and hurried through the valley and across
the lakes. Better opportunity to study the characteristics of
the tribes was never afforded.

All day and night the public resorts — streets, houses,
temples — were burdened with the multitude, whose fear,
as the hour of entry drew nigh, yielded to their curiosity.
And when, at last, the road the visitors would come by was
settled, the whole city seemed to breathe easier. From the
village of Iscalpan, so ran the word, they had boldly plunged
into the passes of the Sierra, and thence taken the directest
route by way of Tlalmanalco. And now they were at
Ayotzinco, a town on the eastern shore of lake Tezcuco;
to-morrow they would reach Iztapalapan, and then Tenochtitlan.
Not a long time to wait, if they brought the vengeance
of Quetzal'; yet thousands took canoes, and crossed
to the village, and, catching the first view, hurried back, each
with a fancy more than ever inflamed.

A soldier, sauntering down the street, is beset with citizens.

“A pleasant day, O son of Huitzil'!”

“A pleasant day; may all that shine on Tenochtitlan
be like it!” he answers.

“What news?”

“I have been to the temple.”

“And what says the teotuctli now?”

“Nothing. There are no signs. Like the stars, the hearts
of the victims will not answer.”

“What! Did not Huitzil' speak last night?”

“O yes!” And the warrior smiles with satisfaction.
“Last night he bade the priests tell the king not to oppose
the entry of Malinche.”

“Then what?”

“Why, here in the city he would cut the strangers off to
the last one.”

And all the citizens cry in chorus, “Praised be Huitzil'!”

Farther on the warrior overtakes a comrade in arms.

“Are we to take our shields to the field, O my brother?”
he asks.

“All is peaceful yet, — nothing but embassies.”

“Is it true that the lord Cacama is to go in state, and invite
Malinche to Tenochtitlan?”

“He sets out to-day.”

“Ha, ha! Of all voices for war, his was the loudest.
Where caught he the merchant's cry for peace?”

“In the temples; it may be from Huitzil'.”

The answer is given in a low voice, and with an ironic
laugh.

“Well, well, comrade, there are but two lords fit, in time
like this, for the love of warriors, — Cuitlahua and Guatamozin.
They still talk of war.”

“Cuitlahua, Cuitlahua!” And the laugh rises to boisterous
contempt. “Why, he has consented to receive Malinche in
Iztapalapan, and entertain him with a banquet in his palace.
He has gone for that purpose now. The lord of Cojohuaca
is with him.”

“Then we have only the 'tzin!”

The fellow sighs like one sincerely grieved.

“Only the 'tzin, brother, only the 'tzin! and he is banished!”

They shake their heads, and look what they dare not
speak, and go their ways. The gloom they take with them
is a sample of that which rests over the whole valley.

When the Spaniards reached Iztapalapan, the excitement
in the capital became irrepressible. The cities were but
an easy march apart, most of it along the causeway. The
going and coming may be imagined. The miles of dike
were covered by a continuous procession, while the lake, in
a broad line from town to town, was darkened by canoes.
Cortes' progress through the streets of Iztapalapan was
antitypical of the grander reception awaiting him in Tenochtitlan.

In the latter city there was no sleep that night. The tianguez
in particular was densely filled, not by traders, but by
a mass of newsmongers, who hardly knew whether they
were most pleased or alarmed. The general neglect of business
had exceptions; at least one portico shone with unusual
brilliancy till morning. Every great merchant is a
philosopher; in the midst of calamities, he is serene, because
it is profit's time; before the famine, he buys up all the corn;
in forethought of pestilence, he secures all the medicine:
and the world, counting his gains, says delightedly, What a
wise man! I will not say the Chalcan was of that honored
class; he thought himself a benefactor, and was happy to
accommodate the lords, and help them divide their time
between his palace and that of the king. It is hardly necessary
to add, that his apartments were well patronized,
though, in truth, his pulque was in greater demand than
his choclatl.

The drinking-chamber, about the close of the third quarter
of the night, presented a lively picture. For the convenience
of the many patrons, tables from other rooms had
been brought in. Some of the older lords were far gone in
intoxication; slaves darted to and fro, removing goblets, or
bringing them back replenished. A few minstrels found listeners
among those who happened to be too stupid to talk,
though not too sleepy to drink. Every little while a newcomer

would enter, when, if he were from Iztapalapan, a
crowd would surround him, allowing neither rest nor refreshment
until he had told the things he had seen or heard.
Amongst others, Hualpa and Io' chanced to find their way
thither. Maxtla, seated at a table with some friends, including
the Chalcan, called them to him; and, as they had
attended the banquet of the lord Cuitlahua, they were
quickly provided with seats, goblets, and an audience of
eager listeners.

“Certainly, my good chief, I have seen Malinche, and
passed the afternoon looking at him and his people,” said
Hualpa to Maxtla. “It may be that I am too much influenced
by the 'tzin to judge them; but, if they are teules, so
are we. I longed to try my javelin on them.”

“Was their behavior unseemly?”

“Call it as you please. I was in the train when, after the
banquet, the lord Cuitlahua took them to see his gardens.
As they strode the walks, and snuffed the flowers, and
plucked the fruit; as they moved along the canal with
its lining of stone, and stopped to drink at the fountains, —
I was made feel that they thought everything, not merely my
lord's property, but my lord himself, belonged to them; they
said as much by their looks and actions, by their insolent
swagger.”

“Was the 'tzin there?”

“From the azoteas of a temple he saw them enter the city;
but he was not at the banquet. I heard a story showing
how he would treat the strangers, if he had the power. One
of their priests, out with a party, came to the temple where
he happened to be, and went up to the tower. In the sanctuary
one of them raised his spear and struck the image of the
god. The pabas threw up their hands and shrieked; he
rushed upon the impious wretch, and carried him to the sacrificial
stone, stretched him out, and called to the pabas,

“Come, the victim is ready!” When the other teules
would have attacked him, he offered to fight them all. The
strange priest interfered, and they departed.”

The applause of the bystanders was loud and protracted;
when it had somewhat abated, Xoli, whose thoughts, from
habit, ran chiefly upon the edibles, said, —

“My lord Cuitlahua is a giver of good suppers. Pray,
tell us about the courses —”

“Peace! be still, Chalcan!” cried Maxtla, angrily.
“What care we whether Malinche ate wolf-meat or
quail?”

Xoli bowed; the lords laughed.

Then a gray-haired cacique behind Io' asked, “Tell us
rather what Malinche said.”

Hualpa shook his head. “The conversation was tedious.
Everything was said through an interpreter, — a woman
born in the province Painalla; so I paid little attention. I
recollect, however, he asked many questions about the great
king, and about the Empire, and Tenochtitlan. He said his
master, the governor of the universe, had sent him here. He
gave much time, also, to explaining his religion. I might
have understood him, uncle, but my ears were too full of the
rattle of arms.”

“What! Sat they at the table armed?” asked Maxtla.

“All of them; even Malinche.”

“That was not the worst,” said Io', earnestly. “At the
same table my lord Cuitlahua entertained a band of beggarly
Tlascalan chiefs. Sooner should my tongue have been
torn out!”

The bystanders made haste to approve the sentiment, and
for a time it diverted the conversation. Meanwhile, at Hualpa's
order, the goblets were refilled.

“Dares the noble Maxtla,” he then asked, “tell what the
king will do?”

“The question is very broad.” And the chief smiled.
“What special information does my comrade seek?”

“Can you tell us when Malinche will enter Tenochtitlan?”

“Certainly. Xoli published that in the tianguez before
the sun was up.”

“To be sure,” answered the Chalcan. “The lord Maxtla
knows the news cost me a bowl of pulque.”

There was much laughter, in which the chief joined. Then
he said, gravely, —

“The king has arranged everything. As advised by the
gods, Malinche enters Tenochtitlan day after to-morrow. He
will leave Iztapalapan at sunrise, and march to the causeway
by the lake shore. Cuitlahua, with Cacama, the lord of
Tecuba, and others of like importance, will meet him at
Xoloc. The king will follow them in state. As to the procession,
I will only say it were ill to lose the sight. Such
splendor was never seen on the causeway.”

Ordinarily the mention of such a prospect would have
kindled the liveliest enthusiasm; for the Aztecs were lovers
of spectacles, and never so glad as when the great green banner
of the Empire was brought forth to shed its solemn
beauty over the legions, and along the storied street of Tenochtitlan.
Much, therefore, was Maxtla surprised at the coldness
that fell upon the company.

“Ho, friends! One would think the reception not much
to your liking,” he said.

“We are the king's, — dust under his feet, — and it is not
for us to murmur,” said a sturdy cacique, first to break the
disagreeable silence. “Yet our fathers gave their enemies
bolts instead of banquets.”

“Who may disobey the gods?” asked Maxtla.

The argument was not more sententious than unanswerable.

“Well, well!” said Hualpa. “I will get ready. Advise
me, good chief: had I better take a canoe?”

“The procession will doubtless be better seen from the
lake; but to hear what passes between the king and Malinche,
you should be in the train. By the way, will the
'tzin be present?”

“As the king may order,” replied Hualpa.

Maxtla threw back his look, and said with enthusiasm,
real or affected, “Much would I like to see and hear him
when the Tlascalans come flying their banners into the city!
How he will flame with wrath!”

Then Hualpa considerately changed the direction of the
discourse.

“Malinche will be a troublesome guest, if only from the
number of his following. Will he be lodged in one of the
temples?”

“A temple, indeed!” And Maxtla laughed scornfully. “A
temple would be fitter lodging for the gods of Mictlan! At
Cempoalla, you recollect, the teules threw down the sacred
gods, and butchered the pabas at the altars. Lest they
should desecrate a holy house here, they are assigned to the
old palace of Axaya'. To-morrow the tamanes will put it
in order.”

Io' then asked, “Is it known how long they will stay?”

Maxtla shrugged his shoulders, and drank his pulque.

“Hist!” whistled a cacique. “That is what the king
would give half his kingdom to know!”

“And why?” asked the boy, reddening. “Is he not
master? Does it not depend upon him?”

“It depends upon no other!” cried Maxtla, dashing his
palm upon the table until the goblets danced. “By the
holy gods, he has but to speak the word, and these guests
will turn to victims!”

And Hualpa, surprised at the display of spirit, seconded

the chief: “Brave words, O my lord Maxtla! They give
us hope.”

“He will treat them graciously,” Maxtla continued, “because
they come by his request; but when he tells them to
depart, if they obey not, — if they obey not, —when was
his vengeance other than a king's? Who dares say he cannot,
by a word, end this visit?”

“No one!” cried Io'.

“Ay, no one! But the goblets are empty. See! Io',
good prince,” — and Maxtla's voice changed at once, —
“would another draught be too much for us? We drink
slowly; one more, only one. And while we drink, we will
forget Malinche.”

“Would that were possible!” sighed the boy.

They sent up the goblets, and continued the session until
daylight.