This double appearance--for Ixtli kept fair pace with his hot-headed
white brother--caused no little stir, and added considerable to the
partial bewilderment which had fallen over that audience.
Prince Hua shouted forth savage threats, but he, as well as the paba,
was fairly demoralised for the moment by the totally unexpected failure
of their carefully laid schemes.
Seeing his chance, Aztotl bade his men escort the Sun Children from the
Hall of Sacrifice back to their own abiding-place, barely noticing his
son, and paying no heed at all to the disguised paleface.
With spears ready for stroke or parry as occasion might demand,
the guard faced about and slowly moved away from the great stone of
sacrifice, rigid of face, cool of nerve, ready to die if must be, yet
never once thinking of disobedience to orders, or of playing cur to save
life.
Almost involuntarily the crowd parted before that measured advance,
giving way until a fair pathway lay open, along which the body-guard
moved with neither haste nor hesitation, outwardly ignorant of the fact
that ugly cries and dangerous gestures were coming thicker and faster
their way.
Scores of other voices caught up the fierce cry given by the head
priest, and now the temple was ringing throughout with demands that
the false Sun Children should pay full penalty, should be haled to the
sacrificial stone, there to purge themselves without further delay!
Others showed an inclination to favour the descendants of Quetzal', and
thus the widely conflicting shouts and cries formed a medley which was
fairly deafening.
For one of his fierce temper the Red Heron showed a marvellous coolness
throughout that perilous retreat, and never more than during the first
few seconds. Then a single injudicious word or too hasty movement might
easily have precipitated a fight, where the vast audience would surely
have brought disaster, whether the majority so willed or not.
Holding his men well in hand, moving only as rapidly as prudence
justified, yet losing neither time nor ground, where both were of
such vital importance; Aztotl forced a passage from the great Hall of
Sacrifice down to the level, then out into the open air, where one could
see and fight if needs be.
Through all this, Bruno Gillespie held the position he had taken, one
hand gripping tightly his maquahuitl, but placing his main dependence
upon the revolver which nestled conveniently within the folds of his
sash, one nervous forefinger touching the curved trigger.
He could not help seeing that the danger was great. He felt certain that
they could not retreat much farther without coming to blows, when the
odds would be overwhelmingly against them. Yet never for an instant did
he regret having taken such a decided step; not for one moment did he
give thought to himself.
Almost within reach of his hand, if extended at the length of his arm,
moved the fair maiden whose face and form had made so deep an impression
upon his mind and his heart. She was in peril. She needed aid. That was
enough!
Then the briefly stunned Tlacopa rushed forth from his desecrated
temple, wildly flourishing his arms, furiously denouncing both the Sun
Children and their body-guard, thundering forth the curses of all the
gods upon the heads of those who refrained from arresting the evil ones.
“The mighty Mother of Gods calls for her own! Seize them! Strike down
the impious dogs who dare attempt to defraud our Mother! Seize them! To
the sacrifice--to the sacrifice!”
Equally loud of voice, the Prince Hua came leaping down to the sandy
level, urging his people to the assault, offering almost fabulous sums
as reward for the brave Aztec whose arm should lay yonder traitorous Red
Heron prone in the dust.
The crisis came, and the dogs of war were let loose.
An arrow whizzed narrowly past the feathered helmet worn by the captain
of the guards. A stone came humming out of sling, to be deftly dashed
aside by Aztotl's shield ere it could fairly smite that gold-crowned
head as, outwardly calm and composed, Victo aided her trembling daughter
on towards the Temple of the Sun God, where alone they might look for
safety.
But would it be found even there?
No! For, at savage howl from lips of the high priest, a strong force of
armed redskins took up position at the teocalli, blocking each one of
the four flights of stone steps in order to intercept the body-guard,
while still closer pressed the yelling, screeching, frantic heathen of
both sexes and all ages.
Aztotl saw how he had been flanked, but made no sign, even while
slightly turning course for another temple at less distance, a single
word being sufficient to post his true-hearts.
So far not a single blow had been struck by the retreating party,
although great provocation had been given them. More than one of their
number was bleeding, yet all were afoot, and still capable of holding
ranks. Then--
Bravest of the brave, a man among men in spite of his tender years,
Ixtli laid down his life in defence of his idolised Victo.
From one of that maddened rabble came a heavy stone, flung with all the
power of a sinewy arm and great sling. Smitten fairly between the
eyes, the poor lad's skull was crushed, as a giant hand might mash an
eggshell.
One gasping sigh, then the lad sunk to earth, dead ere he could fairly
measure his length thereupon.
For a single instant Aztotl seemed as one stupefied, but then an awful
uproar burst from his labouring lungs, and he hurled his heavy javelin
full at yonder murderer, winging it with a father's curses.
Swift flew the dart, but fully as quickly sank that varlet, the head of
the spear scraping his skull, to pass on and smite with death one even
more evil, if that might be.
Full in the throat Tlacopa was stricken, the broad blade of copper
tearing a passage through, and the shaft following after for the greater
portion of its length. Unable to scream, though his visage was hideously
distorted by mingled fear and agony, the high priest caught the wood in
both hands, even as he reeled to partly turn, then fall upon his face,
dead,--thrice dead!
With a wild thrill of grief and horror, Bruno Gillespie saw his red
brother reel in cruel death, and, for the moment heedless of his own
peril, which surely was doubled thereby, he sprang that way, to stoop
and catch that quivering shape in his eager hands.
Too late, save to show his comradeship. That heavy stone had only too
surely performed its grim mission. Dead! Poor lad: dead, while seeking
to save another!
With a fierce cry of angry mourning, Bruno lifted the mutilated corpse
in his arms, trying to toss it over a shoulder, to bear away from risk
of trampling under the heedless feet of the yelling heathen; but it was
not to be. Another stone smote his arm near the elbow, breaking no bone,
yet so benumbing the member as to temporarily disable it, causing that
precious burden to drop to earth once more.
Then came an awful outcry from the people, whom the sight of their
high-priest reeling in death had, for a few fleeting seconds, fairly
stupefied. Cries which meant much to the living, and before which even
that band of true-hearts receded with slightly quickened pace.
With the others fell back Bruno, leaving his hand-wood lying beside the
lifeless corpse of his redskinned brother-at-heart, but drawing forth
the weapon which he knew so much better how to use.
The fierce lust of vengeance now seized upon him, heart and brain. He
shouted forth grim defiance to that howling crew, and as the deadly
missiles came in thickening clouds, carrying death and wounds to the
bodyguard of the Sun Children, he opened fire, shooting to kill.
Entirely without firearms themselves, and in all probability ignorant of
such an instrument of destruction, this might have produced a far more
beneficial result under other circumstances. As it was now, few, if any,
took heed of what they could not hear above that awful tumult, and those
who felt the boring lead never rose up to give their testimony.
Closer crowded the superstition-ridden heathen, showering missiles of
all descriptions upon the body-guard, confounding all with the one to
whose javelin their head priest owed his death,--only to recoil once
more, in fierce awe, as another victim of high rank paid forfeit his
life for the death of Ixtli, sole offspring of Aztotl, the Red Heron.