THE KING BEFORE HIS PEOPLE AGAIN.
Guatamozin's call at the royal palace to see the king, Cuitlahua, had
not been without result. When told that the monarch was too sick of the
plague to be seen, he called for the officer who had charge of the
accounts of tribute received for the royal support.
"Show me," said the 'tzin, "how much corn was delivered to Montezuma for
Malinche."
A package of folded _aguave_ leaves was brought and laid at the
accountant's feet. In a moment he took out a leaf well covered with
picture-writing, and gave it to the 'tzin, who, after study, said to a
cacique in waiting, "Bring me one of the couriers," and to another,
"Bring me wherewith to write."
When the latter was brought, he sat down, and dipping a brush into a
vessel of liquid color, drew upon a clear, yellow-tinted leaf a picture
of a mother duck leading her brood from the shore into the water; by way
of signature, he appended in one corner the figure of an owl in flight.
On five other sheets he repeated the writing; then the missives were
given each to a separate courier with verbal directions for their
delivery.
When he left the palace, the 'tzin laid his hand upon Hualpa's shoulder,
and said, joyfully,--
"Better than I thought, O comrade. Malinche has corn for one day only!"
The blood quickened in Hualpa's heart, as he asked,--"Then the end is
near?"
"To-morrow, or the next day," said the 'tzin.
"But Montezuma is generous,--"
"Can he give what he has not? To-night there will be delivered for his
use and that of his household, whom I have had numbered for the purpose,
provisions for one day, not more."
"Then it is so! Praised be the gods! and you, O my master, wiser than
other men!" cried Hualpa, with upraised face, and a gladness which was
of youth again, and love so blind that he saw Nenetzin,--not the
stars,--and so deaf that he heard not the other words of the 'tzin,--
"The couriers bear my orders to bring up all the armies. And they will
be here in the morning."
* * * * *
In the depth of the night, while Cortes lay restlessly dreaming, his
sentinels on the palace were attracted by music apparently from every
quarter; at first, so mellowed by distance as to seem like the night
singing to itself; afterwhile, swollen into the familiar dissonant
minstrelsy of conch and atabal, mixed with chanting of many voices.
"O ho!" shouted the outliers on the neighboring houses, "O ho, accursed
strangers! Think no more of conquest,--not even of escape; think only of
death by sacrifice! If you are indeed _teules_, the night, though
deepened by the smoke of our burning houses, cannot hinder you from
seeing the children of Anahuac coming in answer to the call of Huitzil'.
If you are men, open wide your ears that you may hear their paddles on
the lake and their tramp on the causeway. O victims! one day more,
then,--the sacrifice!"
Even the Christians, leaning on their lances, and listening, felt the
heaviness of heart which is all of fear the brave can know, and crossed
themselves, and repeated such pater nosters as they could recollect.
And so it was. The reserve armies which had been reposing in the vales
behind Chapultepec all marched to the city; and the noise of their
shouting, drumming, and trumpeting, when they arrived and began to
occupy its thoroughfares and strong places, was like the roar of the
sea.
To the garrison, under arms meantime, and suffering from the influence
of all they heard, the dawn was a long time coming; but at last the sun
came, and poured its full light over the leaguered palace and courtly
precincts.
But the foemen stood idly looking at each other; for in the night,
Cortes, on his side, had made preparations for peace. Two caciques went
from him to the king Cuitlahua, proposing a parley; and the king replied
that he would come in the morning, and hear what he had to say. So there
was truce as well as sunshine.
"Tell me truly, Don Pedro,--as thou art a gentleman, tell me,--didst
thou ever see a sight like this?"
Whereupon, Alvarado, who, with others, was leaning against the parapet
which formed part of the battlements of the eastern gate of the palace,
looked again, and critically, over that portion of the square visible
from his position, and replied,--"I will answer truly and lovingly as
if thou wert my little princess yonder in the _patio_. Sight like this I
never saw, and"--he added, with a quizzical smile--"never care to see
again."
Orteguilla persisted,--
"Nay, didst thou ever see anything that surpassed it?"
Once more Alvarado surveyed the scene,--of men a myriad, in the streets
rank upon rank; so on the houses and temple,--everywhere the glinting of
arms, and the brown faces of warriors glistening above their glistening
shields; everywhere _escaupiles_ of flaming red, and banners; everywhere
the ineffable beauty and splendor of royal war. The good captain
withdrew his enamoured gaze slowly:--
"No, never!" he said.
Even he, the prince of gibes and strange oaths, forgot his tricks in
presence of the pageant.
While the foemen looked at each other so idly, up the beautiful street
came heralds announcing Cuitlahua. Soon his palanquin, attended by a
great retinue of nobles, was brought and set down in front of the
eastern gate of the palace. Upon its appearance, the people knelt, and
touched the ground with their palms. Then there was a blare of Christian
trumpets, and Cortes, with Olmedo and Marina, came upon the turret.
The heralds waved their silver wands: the hush became absolute; then the
curtains of the palanquin were rolled away, and the king turned his head
languidly, and looked up to Cortes, who raised his visor, and looked
down on him; and in the style of a conqueror demanded peace and quick
return to obedience.
"If thou dost not," he said, "I will make thy city a ruin."
The shrill voice of Marina, interpreting, flew wide over the space, so
peopled, yet so still; at the last word, there was a mighty stir, but
the heralds waved their wands, and the hush came back.
On Cuitlahua's face the pallor of sickness gave place to a flush of
anger; he sat up, and signed to Guatamozin, and upon his shoulder laid
his hand trustingly, saying,--
"My son, lend me your voice; answer."
The 'tzin, unmindful that the breath he drew upon his cheek was the
breath of the plague, put his arm around the king, and said, so as to be
heard to the temple's top,--
"The king Cuitlahua answers for himself and his people. Give ear, O
Malinche! You have desolated our temples, and broken the images of our
gods; the smoke of our city offends the sky; your swords are
terrible,--many have fallen before them, and many more will fall; yet we
are content to exchange in death a thousand of ours for one of yours.
Behold how many of us are left; then count your losses, and know that
you cannot escape. Two suns shall not pass, until, amidst our plenty, we
shall laugh to see you sick from hunger. For further answer, O Malinche,
as becomes the king of his people, Cuitlahua gives you the war-cry of
his fathers."
The 'tzin withdrew his arm, and snatching the green _panache_ from the
palanquin, whirled it overhead, crying, "Up, up, Tlateloco! Up,
Tlateloco!"
At sight of the long feathers streaming over the group, like a banner,
the multitude sprang to foot, and with horrible clamor and a tempest of
missiles drove the Christians from the turret.
And of the two bolts in Cortes' quiver, such was the speeding of the
FIRST ONE!
* * * * *
An hour passed,--an hour of battle without and dispute within the
palace.
To Cortes in his chamber then came Orteguilla, reporting.
"I gave the king the message, Señor; and he bade me tell thee thy
purpose is too late. He will not come."
The passion-vein[50] on Cortes' neck and forehead rose, and stood out
like a purple cord.
"The heathen dog!" he cried. "Will not! He is a slave, and shall come.
By the holy blood of Christ, he shall come, or die!"
Then Olmedo spoke,--
"If thou wilt hear, Señor, Montezuma affects me and the good Captain Oli
tenderly; suffer us to go to him, and see what we can do."
"So be it, so be it! If thou canst bring him, in God's name, go. If he
refuse, then--I have sworn! Hearken to the hell's roar without! Let me
have report quickly. I will wait thee here. Begone!"
Olmedo started. Cortes caught his sleeve, and looked at him fixedly.
"_Mira!_" he said, in a whisper. "As thou lovest me do this work well.
If he fail--if he fail--"
"Well?" said Olmedo, in the same tone.
"Then--then get thee to prayers! Go."
The audience chamber whither Oli and the priest betook themselves, with
Orteguilla to interpret, was crowded with courtiers, who made way for
them to the dais upon which Montezuma sat. They kissed his hand, and
declining the invitation to be seated began their mission.
"Good king," said the father, "we bring thee a message from Malinche;
and as its object is to stay the bloody battle which is so grievous to
us all, and the slaughter which must otherwise go on, we pray thy pardon
if we make haste to speak."
The monarch's face chilled, and drawing his mantle close he said,
coldly,--
"I am listening."
Olmedo proceeded,--
"The Señor Hernan commiserates the hard lot which compels thee to listen
here to the struggle which hath lasted so many days, and always with the
same result,--the wasting of thy people. The contest hath become a
rebellion against thee as well as against his sovereign and thine.
Finally there will be no one left to govern,--nothing, indeed, but an
empty valley and a naked lake. In pity for the multitude, he is disposed
to help save them from their false leaders. He hath sent us, therefore,
to ask thee to join him in one more effort to that end."
"Said he how I could help him?" asked the king.
"Come and speak to the people, and disperse them, as once before thou
didst. And to strengthen thy words, and as his part of the trial, he
saith thou mayst pledge him to leave the city as soon as the way is
open. Only let there be no delay. He is in waiting to go with thee, good
king."
The monarch listened intently.
"Too late, too late!" he cried. "The ears of my people are turned from
me. I am king in name and form only; the power is another's. I am
lost,--so is Malinche. I will not go. Tell him so."
There was a stir in the chamber, and a groan from the bystanders; but
the messengers remained looking at the poor king, as at one who had
rashly taken a fatal vow.
"Why do you stay?" he continued, with a glowing face. "What more have I
to do with Malinche? See the state to which my serving him has already
reduced me."
"Remember thy people!" said Olmedo, solemnly.
Flashed the monarch's eyes as he answered,--
"My brave people! I hear them now. They are in arms to save themselves;
and they will not believe me or the promises of Malinche. I have
spoken."
Then Oli moved a step toward the dais, and kissing the royal hand, said,
with suffused eyes,--
"Thou knowest I love thee, O king; and I say, _if thou carest for
thyself_, go."
Something there was in the words, in the utterance, probably, that drew
the monarch's attention; leaning forward, he studied the cavalier
curiously; over his face the while came the look of a man suddenly
called by his fate. His lips parted, his eyes fixed; and but that battle
has voices which only the dead may refuse to hear his spirit would have
drifted off into unseemly reverie. Recalling himself with an effort, he
arose, and said, half-smiling,--
"A man, much less a king, is unfit to live when his friends think to
move him from his resolve by appeals to his fears." And rising, and
drawing himself to his full stature, he added, so as to be heard
throughout the chamber, "Very soon, if not now, you will understand me
when I say I do not care for myself. I desire to die. Go, my friends,
and tell Malinche that I will do as he asks, and straightway."
Oli and Olmedo kissed his hands, and withdrew; whereupon he calmly gave
his orders.
Very soon the 'tzin, who was directing the battle from a point near the
gate of the _coatapantli_, saw a warrior appear on the turret so lately
occupied by Cortes, and wave a royal _panache_. He raised his shield
overhead at once, and held it there until on his side the combat ceased.
The Christians, glad of a breathing spell, quit almost as soon. All eyes
then turned to the turret; even the combatants who had been fighting
hand to hand across the crest of the parapet, ventured to look that way,
when, according to the usage of the infidel court, the heralds came, and
to the four quarters of the earth waved their silver wands.
Too well the 'tzin divined the meaning of the ceremony. "Peace," he
seemed to hear, and then, "Lover of Anahuac, servant of the
gods,--choose now between king and country. Now or never!" The ecstasy
of battle fled from him; his will became infirm as a child's. In the
space between him and the turret the smoke of the guns curled and
writhed sensuously, each moment growing fainter and weaker, as did the
great purpose to which he thought he had steeled himself. When he
brought the shield down, his face was that of a man whom long sickness
had laid close to the gates of death. Then came the image of Tula, and
then the royal permission to do what the gods enjoined,--nay, more than
permission, a charge which left the deed to his hand, that there might
be no lingering amongst the strangers. "O sweetheart!" he said, to
himself, "if this duty leave me stainless, whom may I thank but you!"
Then he spoke to Hualpa, though with a choking voice,--
"The king is coming. I must go and meet him. Get my bow, and stand by me
with an arrow in place for instant use."
Hualpa moved away slowly, watching the 'tzin; then he returned, and
asked, in a manner as full of meaning as the words themselves,--
"Is there not great need that the arrow should be very true?"
The master's eyes met his as he answered, "Yes; be careful."
Yet the hunter stayed.
"O 'tzin," he said, "his blood is not in my veins. He is only my
benefactor. Your days are not numbered, like mine, and as yet you are
blameless; for the sake of the peace that makes life sweet, I pray you
let my hand do this service."
And the 'tzin took his hand, and replied, fervently,--
"There is nothing so precious as the sight that is quick to see the
sorrows of others, unless it be the heart that hurries to help them.
After this, I may never doubt your love; but the duty is mine,--made so
by the gods,--and he has asked it of me. Lo, the heralds appear!"
"He has asked it of you! that is enough," and Hualpa stayed no longer.
Upon the turret the carpet was spread and the canopy set up, and forth
came a throng of cavaliers and infidel lords, the latter splendidly
bedight; then appeared Montezuma and Cortes.
As the king moved forward a cry, blent of all feelings,--love, fear,
admiration, hate, reverence,--burst from the great audience; after which
only Guatamozin and Hualpa, in front of the gate, were left standing.
And such splendor flashed from the monarch's person, from his sandals of
gold, tunic of feathers, _tilmatli_ of white, and _copilli_[51]
inestimably jeweled; from his face and mien issued such majesty that,
after the stormy salutation, the multitude became of the place a part,
motionless as the stones, the dead not more silent.
With his hands crossed upon his breast he stood awhile, seeing and being
seen, and all things waited for him to speak; even the air seemed
waiting, it was so very hushed. He looked to the sky, flecked with
unhallowed smoke; to the sun, whose heaven, just behind the curtain of
brightness, was nearer to him than ever before; to the temple, place of
many a royal ceremony, his own coronation the grandest of all; to the
city, beautiful in its despoilment; to the people, for whom, though they
knew it not, he had come to die; at last his gaze settled upon
Guatamozin, and as their eyes met, he smiled; then shaking the
_tilmatli_ from his shoulder, he raised his head, and said, in a voice
from which all weakness was gone, his manner never so kingly,--
"I know, O my people, that you took up arms to set me free, and that was
right; but how often since then have I told you that I am not a
prisoner; that the strangers are my guests; that I am free to leave them
when I please, and that I live with them because I love them?"
As in a calm a wind sometimes blows down, and breaks the placid surface
of a lake into countless ripples, driving them hither and thither in
sparkling confusion, these words fell upon the listening mass; a yell of
anger rose, and from the temple descended bitter reproaches.
Yet the 'tzin was steady; and when the outcry ended, the king went on,--
"I am told your excuse now is, that you want to drive my friends from
the city. My children, here stands Malinche himself. He hears me say for
him that, if you will open the way, he and all with him will leave of
their own will."
Again the people broke out in revilements, but the monarch waved his
hand angrily, and said,--
"As I am yet your king, I bid you lay down your arms--"
Then the 'tzin took the ready bow from Hualpa; full to the ear he drew
the arrow. Steady the arm, strong the hand,--an instant, and the deed
was done! In the purple shadow of the canopy, amidst his pomp of
royalty, Montezuma fell down, covered, when too late, by a score of
Christian shields. Around him at the same time fell a shower of stones
from the temple.
Then, with a shout of terror, the companies arose as at a word and fled,
and, panic-blind, tossed the 'tzin here and there, and finally left him
alone in the square with Hualpa.
"All is lost!" said the latter, disconsolately.
"Lost!" said the 'tzin. "On the temple yonder lies Malinche's last hope.
No need now to assail the palace. When the king comes out, hunger will
go in and fight for us."
"But the people,--where are they?"
The 'tzin raised his hand and pointed to the palace,--
"So the strangers have asked. See!"
Hualpa turned, and saw the gate open and the cavaliers begin to ride
forth.
"Go they this way, or yon," continued the 'tzin, "they will find the
same answer. Five armies hold the city; a sixth keeps the lake."
Down the beautiful street the Christians rode unchallenged until they
came to the first canal. While restoring the bridge there, they heard
the clamor of an army, and lo! out of the gardens, houses, and temples,
far as the vision reached, the infidels poured and blocked the way.
Then the cavaliers rode back, and took the way to Tlacopan. There, too,
the first canal was bridgeless; and as they stood looking across the
chasm, they heard the same clamor and beheld the same martial
apparition.
Once more they rode, this time up the street toward the northern dike,
and with the same result.
"_Ola_, father!" said Cortes, returned to the palace, "we may not stay
here after to-morrow."
"Amen!" cried Olmedo.
"Look thou to the sick and wounded; such as can march or move, get them
ready."
"And the others?" asked the good man.
"Do for them what thou dost for the dying. Shrieve them!"
So saying, the Christian leader sank on his seat, and gave himself to
sombre thought.
He had sped his _second and_--LAST BOLT!
The rest of the day was spent in preparation for retreat.