TWO SLAVES OF IZTAPALAPAN
Following the mysterious priest, who bore the torch that illuminated
their way, Huetzin was conducted through bewildering ranges of
galleries, passages, and halls, until finally Halco paused, saying:
"Farther than this I may not go. It is high time that I showed myself
among the priests, that my absence may not cause suspicion. Follow this
passage to its end, where thy way of escape will be made plain. Now
fare thee well, son of Tlahuicol, and may the god of the Four Winds
guide and protect thee."
With these words, and without waiting for a reply, the priest turned
abruptly away, and in another moment both he and the light of his torch
had disappeared. For a minute or so Huetzin stood motionless where
he had been left, but as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness,
he imagined that a faint light came from the direction he had been
told to take. Walking cautiously toward it his ear caught the sound
of lapping waters, and in a moment later he stood in the opening of
a low water-gate that looked out on the broad lake of Tezcuco. The
storm had passed and the stars shone brightly. The cool night air was
delightfully refreshing, and Huetzin inhaled it with long breaths. As
he looked out beyond the wall of the gateway, he saw a shadowy form
of a canoe containing a single occupant, who appeared to be waiting.
Believing this to be the means of escape indicated by the priest, he
uttered a slight cough.
Instantly there came a whisper of: "Art thou he who would be set
across?"
To which Huetzin replied, without hesitation: "I am he."
As the canoe moved to where he stood, he stepped in, and it instantly
shot away toward the farther side of the star-flecked waters. Many
boats, with twinkling lights, were seen, but all of them were skilfully
avoided, until the canoe was among a cluster of little floating islands
of artificial construction. Some of these were used as resorts by
pleasure-loving Aztecs, and others as small gardens on which were
raised vegetables and flowers for the near-by city market. As the canoe
which bore Huetzin and his silent companion passed swiftly by one of
these, a stern voice hailed them, demanding to know their business and
whither they were bound. Receiving no reply, the voice commanded them
to halt, in the king's name.
"What shall I do?" asked Huetzin's companion, irresolutely.
"Do as he commands, and when his curiosity is satisfied so that
thou art allowed to depart, come for me to yonder chinampa," replied
Huetzin, in a whisper. As he spoke he pointed to one of the floating
islands dimly outlined not far from them, and at the same time quietly
slipped into the water. He swam noiselessly, but with such powerful
strokes that a dozen of them placed him beside the tiny islet he had
indicated to his companion. He made as though he would land on it, and
then, with a sudden change of plan, the motive of which he could not
have explained even to himself, he slipped back into the water and swam
toward another chinampa that he could barely discern in the distance.
It was well for him that he obeyed the instinct forbidding him to land
on the first island; for, as he drew himself out on the second, and
lay hidden in the tall grasses that fringed its edge, he heard the
quick dip of paddles, and the sound of suppressed, but excited, voices
coming from the direction of the other. He was startled by hearing his
own name coupled with that of his father. It was borne distinctly to
him over the still waters, and gave him a certain intimation that the
bloodhounds of the chief priest were already on his trail.
Without waiting a further confirmation of his fears, Huetzin hastily
crossed to the other side of the island on which he had taken refuge,
almost stumbling against the tiny, grass-thatched hut of its proprietor
as he did so. The man heard him, and shouted to know who was there. As
Huetzin quietly entered the water and swam away, the man emerged from
his hut, keeping up the angry shouting that the young Toltec would so
gladly have silenced. He soon gained another island, fastened to which
he discovered a canoe. Even as he clambered into it and shoved off,
its owner, aroused by the distant shouts, came hurriedly to the place
where it had been. In another moment his outcries were added to the
others, as he discovered his loss. Fortunately the canoe had drifted so
far under the impetus of Huetzin's vigorous shove, that it was hidden
by the darkness from the eyes of its owner, so that he could form no
notion of who had taken it, nor why it had been stolen.
Huetzin lay motionless in the bottom of the frail craft so long as
it continued to move. Then he raised himself cautiously and began to
feel for a paddle. To his dismay there was none. The careful owner
had carried it to his hut, and now the fugitive, though possessed of
a boat, had no means of propelling it. Yes, he had his hands! and,
kneeling in the bottom of the canoe, he began to urge it forward by
paddling with them. It was slow and tedious work. Moreover, it was
accompanied by a certain unavoidable amount of splashing. This sounded
so loud to the strained senses of the poor lad, that he felt convinced
it must reach the ears of his pursuers.
He had made considerable progress and was well-nigh exhausted by
the unaccustomed nature of his efforts, but still hopeful of escape.
Suddenly he heard voices behind him, evidently approaching rapidly,
and his heart failed him as he realized the utter helplessness of his
position. He listened fearfully to the approaching sounds, which were
coming so directly toward him that discovery was inevitable if he
remained in the canoe. All at once his ear detected something which
caused such a sudden revulsion of feeling that he could have shouted
for joy. The voices were those of a man and a woman, who were talking
in the familiar Tlascalan dialect.
"Ho, slaves!" he called in an imperious tone, as the other canoe
approached close to his own.
The paddling ceased and the man's voice, couched in submissive accents,
answered, "Yes, my lord."
"Have you an extra paddle? Mine is broken and I am a King's messenger
on a service that admits of no delay."
"We have but two, both of which are in use. But if your lordship
desires one of them, and will make good its loss to our master----"
"Hand it to me at once," interrupted Huetzin, in as stern a tone as he
could command. "Or better still," he continued as the other craft drew
alongside, "I will come into your canoe, and you shall carry me to the
further side of the lake. In that way I shall get on more quickly, and
you will run no risk of losing your precious paddle."
Thus saying, Huetzin stepped lightly into the other boat, and
peremptorily ordered its occupants to hasten forward with all speed, as
his mission could not longer be delayed.
With an obedience born of long servitude, they resumed their paddles
and labored to fulfil his wishes, without question. For some time they
proceeded in silence. Then Huetzin's curiosity got the better of his
prudence, and he asked the slaves what they were doing on the lake at
so late an hour of the night.
"We carried a load of flowers from our master's garden, near
Iztapalapan, to the market of Tenochtitlan," answered the man, "and
delayed to witness the festivities until overtaken by the storm. When
it abated so that we might put forth, it was near the middle watch.
Since then we have been stopped and examined three different times by
boats of the lake patrol."
"What sought they?" demanded Huetzin.
"An escaped prisoner."
"Heard you his name?"
"They said----," began the woman, timidly.
"No," interrupted her husband, sharply, "we heard it not. Where will my
lord that we should land him?"
"Anywhere," answered Huetzin, carelessly. Then, correcting himself, he
added: "That is, you may land me at the place to which you are going.
I would not that you should incur your master's displeasure by further
delay. You have a hut of your own, I suppose?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Then take me to it, for my garments are wet, and I would dry them
before proceeding on my journey."
Although such a proposition from one who had recently claimed to be in
the greatest haste, struck both the Tlascalans as peculiar, they were
too wise to pass remarks on the actions of a king's messenger, and so
received it in silence.
Guiding their course by the stars, they soon brought the canoe to land,
and led the way to their humble hut of rushes, plastered with lake mud,
that stood not far from the water's edge.
As the three entered it, the woman knelt to blow life into some coals
that smouldered in a bed of ashes, on a rude hearth, while the man
brought a bundle of twigs to throw on them. As a bright blaze sprung
up, both turned to look at the stranger who had so unceremoniously
thrust himself upon their hospitality. The firelight fell full on his
face, and as the man caught sight of it, a startled cry burst from his
lips. It was echoed by the woman.
"It is Huetzin the Tlascalan!" gasped the former.
"The son of Tlahuicol, our war chief!" cried the woman, with a great
sob, and, seizing the young man's hand, she kissed it passionately.