LOYALTY OUTWEIGHS GOLD AND FREEDOM
The delight of these humble Tlascalan slaves at discovering, and being
permitted to serve, the son of their country's hero, knew no bounds.
They wept with joy, and would have kissed his feet had he allowed it.
The man provided him with dry clothing from his own scanty stock, while
the woman hastened to make some tortillas, the thin cakes of meal and
water, baked on the surface of a flat stone set at an angle before
the fire, that to this day form the staple bread of all Mexico. They
marvelled at the story of his escape from beneath the very knife of
sacrifice, and listened to it with ejaculations of thankfulness and
amazement at every detail. They spoke with bated breath of Tlahuicol's
brave fight, while the man declared proudly that the like had never
been seen even in that land of battles, and that none but a Tlascalan
could have performed such marvels. More than all were they proud that
Huetzin had entrusted them with his life, and they wondered that he
should have dared place himself at the mercy of strangers.
"No Tlascalan is a stranger to the son of Tlahuicol," answered the
young man, simply.
"But how knew you that we were Tlascalans?"
"By the tongues with which you spoke. The voice of the mountaineer no
more resembles that of a dweller in the valleys than the cry of the
eagle is like that of a raven," replied Huetzin, with a smile.
Then they rejoiced that in all their years of slavery they had not
lost their native accent, and recalled with simple pride how they had
striven and helped each other to preserve this token of their birth,
and sole reminder of their happy youth among the distant mountains.
They told him of their captivity, and how they had been surprised, not
far from their own home, by a party of Aztec slave-hunters, against
whom the man's desperate resistance proved of no avail. "Though there
were but few abler warriors than he in all the land," added the old
woman, proudly, with a fond look at her old husband. They also told him
of their only child, the little girl, Cocotin, who had been left behind
and of whose fate they had gained no tidings in all these years. They
told of their present life with all its toil and hardship, and, when
the tale was ended they rejoiced that the gods had led them over the
thorny paths of slavery to the end that they might be of service to the
son of Tlahuicol, their country's hero.
With all this there was no intimation of the fact, that should they be
suspected of aiding the escape of a victim doomed to sacrifice, or of
having sheltered him for an hour, they would be condemned to death by
torture. Huetzin, however, was well aware of this, and so, when he had
eaten of their frugal fare and dried his wet garments, he would have
taken his departure; but to this his entertainers would not listen.
"It is near morning, and with daylight your capture in this place would
be certain," argued the man. "Tarry with us until the coming of another
night, when I will guide you to a place from which you may reach the
road to Tlascala."
"Would my lord snatch from us the great joy of our lives?" asked
the woman, reproachfully, "and needlessly shorten the only hours of
happiness we have known since last we looked on the face of Cocotin,
our little one?"
"But if I am found here your lives will be forfeit," urged Huetzin.
"That is as the gods will," answered the man. "Our poor lives are as
nothing, while the gods have shown that they are reserving yours for
their own good purpose. Nay, my lord, depart not, but honor us with
your presence yet a while longer, and all shall be well."
Thus urged Huetzin yielded, and, more weary than he was aware of, flung
himself down on a mat of sweet grasses in one corner of the room, where
he almost instantly fell asleep. The old people watched him, sitting
hand in hand and conversing in whispers of the wonderful event by which
the hard monotony of their lives had been brightened. Every now and
then the man went outside and listened. At daylight he was obliged to
report for duty in the fields.
When he had gone the woman took a quantity of the maguey fibre, which
it was her daily task to prepare for the cloth-weavers, and, with
it, completely concealed the sleeping youth. So well was he hidden
that even the prying eyes of a female neighbor, who ran in for a few
moments' gossip while her breakfast was cooking, failed to detect his
presence.
"Have you heard," asked the woman, "of the escape of a victim dedicated
to Huitzil yesterday? In some manner--I have not yet learned the
details--he succeeded in killing several of the holy priests, and
escaping from under the very knife of sacrifice. The gods were so
incensed that they extinguished the sacred fire with a breath. Nor will
they be appeased until he is again brought before them, and his heart
lies on the altar; for so say the priests."
"What is he like?" demanded the other, calmly.
"They say," replied the visitor, "that he is young, and as comely to
look upon as Quetzal himself; but that at heart he is a very monster,
and that his only meat is babes or very young children. I should be
frightened to death were I to catch sight of him, though for the sake
of the reward I should be willing to venture it."
"Is there a reward offered for his capture?"
"Yes. Have you not heard? It is proclaimed everywhere, that, to any
free man who shall produce him dead or alive, or tell where he may be
found, shall be given a hundred quills of gold and a royal grant of
land. If any slave shall be the fortunate one, he and his shall be
given their freedom, and twenty quills of gold. Oh! I would my man
might set eyes on him. He is already searching, as are many of the
neighbors, for it is said that the escaped one crossed the lake in
this direction last night, after overturning several boats that were
in pursuit of him, and leaving their occupants to perish in the water.
Besides that, he killed or wounded near a score of chinampa owners, and
set their canoes adrift. I know this to be so, for my man picked up one
of the canoes on the lake shore, not an hour ago, and has informed the
officers."
"Never did I hear of anything so terrible!" cried the Tlascalan woman,
professing an eager sympathy with her neighbor's gossip. "We are all in
danger of our lives."
"Yes," continued the other, "but he must be taken soon, for soldiers
are scouring the country in all directions, and every house is to
be searched. They will not find him in a dwelling, though, for the
penalty is too terrible. The proclamation says that whoever shall
give him a crust of bread, or a sup of water, or a moment's shelter,
shall be burned to death, he and every member of his family. So the
monster will get no aid, I warrant you. Well, I must go. I am glad you
know nothing of him," she added, casting a searching glance around
the interior of the hut, "for I should hate to be compelled to inform
against a neighbor. What a fine lot of fibre you have prepared!"
"Yes," answered the Tlascalan woman, calmly, "and I am just about to
take it out in the sun to bleach."
As the steps of the departing gossip died away, Huetzin, who had been
aroused by her shrill tones, and had overheard all that she said, shook
off his covering of fibre and rose to his feet, looking very pale and
determined.
"I can no longer remain here," he said; "my presence would be
discovered by the first who searched this dwelling, and I should only
have devoted you and your husband to an awful fate. It is better that
you should give me up and claim the reward."
At these words the woman gave him a look so reproachful and full of
entreaty, that he hastened to recall them. "No," he exclaimed, "you
could not! To a Tlascalan such baseness would be impossible! But you
can at least let me depart."
"Yes," said the woman, "you must go, for you can no longer remain here
in safety; but I am minded of another hiding-place in which, for a time
at least, you can remain undiscovered. Come with me, and I will show it
you."
So they left the hut together, Huetzin almost creeping on his hands
and knees through the tall grasses which formed the only shelter from
observation, and the woman bearing a great bundle of maguey fibre. This
answered a fourfold purpose. The pretense of bleaching it gave her an
excuse for going abroad. Its weight would account for the slowness with
which she walked. She carried it so as partly to shield her companion
from sight, and, had anyone approached, she would have dropped it over
him while pretending to rest.
Thus the two proceeded slowly and fearfully until they reached the
ruins of an ancient aqueduct, that had once brought water for the
garden fountains of some long-forgotten Toltec noble. The aqueduct,
which was a sodded dike enclosing a great earthen pipe, had been
gullied by some short-lived but furious torrent, and its pipe was
broken at the place where Huetzin and the Tlascalan woman now halted.
There was an opening just large enough for a man to squeeze through;
but, once inside the pipe, he could neither turn himself about nor
assume any position save that of lying at full length. The bottom
of the pipe was covered thickly with a slimy sediment suggestive of
all manner of creeping and venomous things. It was indeed a dismal
place, but it offered a chance for life which Huetzin accepted. As he
disappeared within its dark recess, the woman resumed her burden of
fibre and retraced her steps to her own dwelling.
Not long after her return to it, she was startled by the approach of a
squad of Aztec soldiers, guided by her husband, with anguish-stricken
face. Entering the hut they searched it carefully, thrusting their
spears into every suspected place, including the heap of maguey fibre
on the floor, which they thoroughly prodded. The Tlascalan was amazed
at his wife's calmness during these proceedings, as well as at the
absence of the fugitive. He had been certain that the latter would be
discovered there, even while he stoutly denied any knowledge of him or
his whereabouts to the soldiers, who had forced him to accompany them
to the search of his own dwelling. When they left to hunt elsewhere
he was compelled to go with them. Thus it was not until nightfall,
when he returned from his day's labor, that he learned of the safety
of their beloved guest, and of the hiding-place found for him by the
quick-witted Tlascalan woman. She had not dared go near him during the
day, and it was not until after their usual hour for retiring, when
all men were supposed to be asleep, that the brave old couple ventured
forth to release the prisoner from his painful position in the ancient
water-pipe.