HOW PEACE WAS BROUGHT ABOUT
When Huetzin was left alone on the night of the Tlascalan attack, and
knew, by the sounds from outside, that the entire Spanish garrison had
gone to repel it, he conceived the idea of leaving the unguarded camp,
making his way to that of Xicoten, and of endeavoring to persuade that
impetuous war-chief to put an end to fighting. Although still weak, he
felt that his will would carry him through the undertaking. Making his
cautious way to the outer door of the temple, he was there confronted
by Marina, who was just entering. Alarmed at the sight of a patient
thus disobeying her command to rest quietly until he had recovered his
strength, she at once ordered him back to his bed.
Smiling, but resolutely disregarding the stern command of this gentle
mistress, Huetzin led her outside and there unfolded his plan.
Marina replied that while it was a noble one, and met with her full
approbation, he had not yet the strength to carry it out. Whereupon
Huetzin suddenly threw his arms about her, lifted her lightly from the
ground, kissed her full on the lips, and set her gently down again.
Springing to a safe distance, the girl, with burning cheeks and a
well-assumed anger, abused him soundly for so shameful an act, and
indignantly bade him be-gone, with the hope that she might never set
eyes on him again. As he turned to obey her, she added that, if he
ever dared to return, except as an ambassador of peace from Tlascala,
she should certainly refuse to recognize him in any way. Then hurrying
to the top of the temple, where, by the bright moonlight, she could
discern something of what was taking place below, she prayed to the
gods for the safety of the youth whom she had but now so bitterly
denounced.
In the meantime Huetzin, filled with other thoughts than those of
wounds or weakness, hurried down the hillside, on the opposite side
from that on which the fighting was taking place, and, making a great
circuit, gained the camp of the Tlascalans, who had just returned,
filled with sullen rage, from the scene of their fourth defeat. Here he
found it impossible to pass the guards, who, to his plea that he bore a
most important communication for their general, replied that the latter
would see no one that night.
Thus it was not until late on the following day that Huetzin gained
audience of his haughty cousin, who, smarting under his reverses, was
in much the temper of a caged lion recently deprived of its liberty.
Although he recognized the son of Tlahuicol he refused to admit that
he did so. When the latter ventured to speak of the mission on which
he had come, the irate war-chief broke forth in a tirade of abuse, not
only against the Spaniards, who, he declared, he would yet sweep from
the face of the earth, but against all Tlascalan traitors, who, if
they had escaped the sacrifice they so well deserved, should no longer
escape from the just wrath of their patriot countrymen. Then, calling
in the officer of his guard, Xicoten commanded that the young rebel, as
he designated Huetzin, be seized, conveyed to the city, and thrown into
the deepest dungeon of the temple.
As resistance to this cruel mandate would have been worse than useless,
Huetzin suffered himself to be led quietly away by a file of soldiers,
and, on the following morning, was taken to the city of Tlascala. Here,
as he was hurried through the narrow streets, seeking in vain for a
friendly face among the multitudes who thronged them, his heart was
filled with such bitterness that he almost regretted not having turned
traitor to his country and remained to share the fortune or fate of the
white conquerors.
While he was thus sorrowfully reflecting, and walking mechanically
between his stolid guards, there came an obstruction in the street
that compelled them to halt. Looking up Huetzin caught sight of that
which caused his heart to beat with a new hope. A silver-haired old
man, evidently blind, was being borne past in a splendidly appointed
litter. Above it waved a panache of heron's plumes, and its bearers
wore the yellow and white livery of the house of Titcala. It was his
own grandfather, the aged chieftain of Titcala, on his way to a meeting
of the Great Council of the republic.
Freeing himself from his guards with a sudden movement, the young man
sprang to the side of the litter, crying:
"My lord! oh, my lord! I am Huetzin, son of Tlahuicol, and of
thy daughter! I am, moreover, in sore distress! Extend to me thy
protection, I pray thee!"
Thus suddenly aroused from a deep reverie, the old man at first failed
to comprehend what was said or who was speaking; but, on a repetition
of the words, he commanded Huetzin to approach that he might identify
him. This he did by slowly passing his sensitive fingers over the young
man's face, as he had been used to do in former years. Finally he
exclaimed, in trembling tones:
"It is indeed Huetzin, son of my son, and blood of my blood! But how
camest thou here? Did I not hear that thou wert dead? They told me that
thou, and thy noble father, mine own sweet child, and the little Tiata,
had all been sacrificed on the bloody altars of Huitzil. How is it? Do
Tlahuicol and his still live?"
"No, my lord," answered Huetzin. "Both my brave father and my beautiful
mother have departed to the realms of the sun. As for Tiata I know not
if she still lives. I myself have thrice escaped; once from the altars
of Tenochtitlan, once from the camp of the white conquerors, and even
now from the soldiers of Xicoten, who would lead me to a Tlascalan
dungeon. But my story will keep for a later telling. First, I must
deliver the last message of Tlahuicol, which is of vital importance to
the republic for which he gave his life. Is there no place other than
this street where I may entrust it to thy ears?"
"If it concerns the republic," answered the aged chieftain, "then it is
for the senate, who even now await my presence. Come thou with me, and
deliver it directly to those who must judge of its importance."
In that city the will of its most honored councillor was supreme, and
not even the soldiers of Xicoten dared dispute it. Therefore Huetzin's
guard allowed him to accompany his aged grandfather to the senate
chamber, making respectful way for them to pass, but following closely
behind in readiness to prevent any further escape of their prisoner.
The councillors of the republic, assembled to discuss the momentous
question of war or peace with the terrible white conquerors, whose
coming had shaken the nation to its foundations, rose and stood with
bowed heads as their aged president appeared and was led to the seat of
honor. As he passed them, they gazed with surprise at the meanly clad
youth who walked beside him with a bearing as proud as that of any
prince, and marvelled as to who he might be.
When the lord of Titcala faced them with his sightless eyes, and
announced that this same youth was his grandson, the son of Tlahuicol,
and that he had but now escaped from Tenochtitlan, bringing them a
message from his dead father, a murmur of recognition and amazement
swept over the assembly.
Then Huetzin, standing before them in his robe of tattered and
blood-stained nequen, told, in the simple language with which oratory
is made most effective, his story of the past year. He told of
Tlahuicol's unswerving loyalty to his adopted country, despite the
splendid offers of Montezuma to desert her and enter his service. He
repeated his father's last words in a voice that trembled with emotion,
and described with thrilling effect the final battle of the great
Tlascalan war-chief. He told of his own escape, through the direct
interposition of the gods, from the very knife of sacrifice, and of
his experience in the camp of the white conquerors. He described his
leaving it and his reception by Xicoten. Finally, he concluded with so
strong an argument in favor of a Tlascalan alliance with the powerful
strangers, against the hated Aztec, that none who heard him could
resist his eloquence; and, when he finished, he was greeted with such a
storm of applause as had never before swept over that solemn chamber.
As Huetzin stepped back to his grandfather's side the aged chieftain
embraced and blessed him, while tears streamed from his sightless
eyes. Then, declaring that his vote should, now and always, be for
an alliance with the Spaniards, and begging to be excused from the
deliberations of that day, the lord of Titcala retired, taking Huetzin
with him, to his own palace. Here the young man was bathed in perfumed
waters and clad as became his rank, and here he rested, recovering
his strength, during all of that day. In the meantime the news of his
return had spread through the city, and was received with such joy
that, the next morning, when he appeared in the streets, on his way to
the senate chamber, to which he had been summoned, he was greeted with
universal enthusiasm.
By the councillors of the republic the dignity of the command of a
division of the Tlascalan army was conferred upon the young warrior;
also, in consideration of the life services of his father, he was
presented with the most valuable weapon in all Tlascala, the sword of
Toledo steel that Cortes had sent as a gift to the republic. Last and
best of all, the newly made chieftain was commissioned to proceed at
once to the camp of the white conquerors, and invite them, in the name
of the republic, to visit the capital city, there to settle upon the
terms of an everlasting peace and alliance.
Thus was Huetzin's cup of happiness filled to overflowing. There was
but one drop of bitterness mingled with it. He was instructed to visit
his cousin, Xicoten, on his way to the Christian camp, convey to that
arrogant general the command of the senate that there must be no more
fighting, and invite him, as the war-chief, to head, in person, the
embassy to Cortes.
So the son of Tlahuicol, who had entered his native city a despised
prisoner, clad in rags, left it, the next day, an honored chieftain,
robed with the gorgeousness of his rank, and heading the most important
embassy the New World had ever seen.
When he reached Xicoten's camp that hot-headed warrior, while not
daring to openly oppose the messenger of the senate, yet managed to
delay him for a whole day, while he secretly despatched spies to
discover the condition of the Spaniards. If their report should prove
favorable he was resolved on another attack, with the splendid army
he had gathered, in spite of all the senators in Tlascala. Had this
attack been made, the Spaniards, weakened by their previous losses,
would undoubtedly have been destroyed, and all history would have been
changed.
As it was, Cortes detected the spies, cut off their thumbs, and sent
them back to their master with the message, that while the Christians
never slept, and were ready for him at all times, they were also weary
of waiting. Therefore, if he had not tendered his submission inside of
twenty-four hours, they would desolate the land of Tlascala with fire
and sword, until no living thing remained within its borders.
Thus was Xicoten's proud spirit humbled, and though he preferred to
follow, rather than to accompany, Huetzin on his mission, the latter
was no longer hindered from carrying it into effect.