HUETZIN IN THE POWER OF THE CHIEF PRIEST
Thus far Huetzin had felt almost certain that he had escaped
recognition in Tenochtitlan. By the Spaniards he was invariably
addressed as Don Juan, while his own followers spoke and thought of him
only as their chieftain, giving him always the title of his office.
Although, under the circumstances of his present appearance in the
city, he did not fear any evil consequences to himself from being
identified with the prisoner who had escaped from Huitzil's altar only
three months before, he thought it best, for Tiata's sake, to remain
unknown as long as possible. Nor did he esteem this a difficult matter.
While the personality of the Spaniards was of great interest in the
court of Montezuma, that of their despised Tlascalan allies was not
deemed worthy of consideration. Who, then, would concern himself as to
the name, title, or previous history, even of their chief? As Huetzin
answered to himself "No one," he forgot that the anger of a baffled
priest never slumbers, forgives, nor forgets. He forgot Topil.
Thus, when the young Toltec finally discovered a shadowy form, that
seemed to move when he moved, and to halt when he halted, though always
at a distance from him, he became interested rather than apprehensive,
and wondered for whom he was mistaken. In his efforts to obtain a
closer view of his shadow, he tried disappearing around corners and
then quickly retracing his steps, hiding in dark angles, and various
other plans, but always without success. At length he lost sight of
the figure, and was beginning to think he must be mistaken in his
suspicions, when he was startled by a whisper in his ear: "If you would
know of Tiata, follow me!" Then a dark form moved swiftly ahead of him.
For a moment the young Toltec stood irresolute. The utterance of his
sister's name showed that he was indeed recognized. He longed above all
things for news concerning her, but should he, for that reason, throw
prudence to the winds and follow the first stranger who bade him do so?
Certainly not. At the same time his curiosity was so aroused that he
determined to overtake the mysterious person, if possible, and force
an explanation from him. The shadow was still in sight, though at some
distance, and, under the impulse of the resolve just made, Huetzin
started swiftly after it. As he ran, so it fled, always almost, but
not quite, within reach. A touch of its fluttering garments led him
to believe that the chase was nearly ended, and in his exultation he
failed to notice that he had passed through a wide gateway. Again, as
he was about to grasp the figure, it darted through an open door; but
here the pursuer paused. He would follow no further.
At that moment there came a shrill scream from within. It was a woman's
voice, and it seemed to cry: "Huetzin! oh, Huetzin!" Impulsively the
young man sprang forward. He had hardly passed the dark portal, when
he was seized by several pairs of strong hands and thrown to the
ground. A minute later he was led away, helplessly bound, through the
darkness. At length he was rudely thrust into a wooden cage, such as
were used for captives destined for sacrifice, and there left to his
own sorrowful reflections.
He could no longer doubt that he had been recognized, his every
movement watched, and his capture devised by means of the simple trap
to which he had fallen so easy a victim. Fortunately for him, Topil,
the chief priest, had that day gone on a secret mission to Tezcuco.
He did not return until near noon of the following day. As soon as he
reached the temple he was informed that the young Tlascalan, upon whom
he had so long desired to lay hands, once more awaited his pleasure.
Topil's eyes lighted with a fierce gleam as he muttered, "Ha! son of
Tlahuicol, and avowed enemy of the holy priesthood, thou shalt not
escape me now!" Then, aloud, he said: "Away with him to the altar of
Huitzil, to which I will shortly follow. With this sacrifice shall
the anger of the gods be averted, and all shall once more go well with
Anahuac."
In obedience to this order, Huetzin was dragged from his cage, to
which no ray of light had penetrated since he was thrust into it, was
blindfolded, and bound to the back of a sturdy tamane, or porter of the
temple. In this manner, and surrounded by a strong guard of priests,
he was borne for a long distance, and, as he could distinguish from
the motion, up many flights of stairs. When he was at length set down,
although the bandage was not removed from his eyes, he felt certain
that he once more stood on the horrible platform crowning the great
teocal of Huitzil.
As he stood there, feeling that now his last hour had indeed come,
he vaguely calculated the chances of a desperate plan for wrenching
himself free, at the last moment, seizing the chief priest, who he was
sure would conduct the sacrifice in person, and leaping with him from
the giddy height. All at once he became conscious of a mighty hum of
voices rising from far below, and gradually swelling into acclamations.
Then, although he could not see him, a priest came running breathlessly
up the stairway that led to the platform. Huetzin did, however, hear
the words, "They are coming here! Away with him! Another time will do
as well! Even his dead body must not be discovered!" Then the prisoner
was seized and dragged into a building, which, by the horrible odor
pervading it, he recognized as the shrine of the god. Here he was
thrust into some sort of a room or closet, and its door was closed
behind him.
In the meantime, Huetzin's former preserver, Tlalco, the Toltec priest,
had been well aware of his arrival in the city, but had not yet found
an opportunity to communicate with him. With all his secret means
of acquiring information, he had not known of the young chieftain's
capture and imminent peril until Topil's return from Tezcuco. Then he
overheard the communication made to the chief priest, and, without
an instant's delay, hastened to the king's palace. Montezuma was not
there, nor were his attendant nobles. They were escorting the Spaniards
on a visit to the places of greatest interest within the city.
Sandoval had been greatly concerned to learn, upon inquiring for his
friend Don Juan, just before setting forth on this excursion, that the
young Tlascalan had not returned to his quarters since leaving them
late on the previous evening. He would have instituted an immediate
search for the missing youth, had not the arrival of the king at that
moment demanded his service. Filled with an ever-increasing uneasiness,
the young Spaniard was compelled to visit, with his commander and the
other cavaliers, the great market-place of Tlateloco, where not even
the thousand strange sights, that so interested the others, could
distract his mind from its one all-absorbing thought. What had become
of the friend whom he had learned to love as a brother? Was he in
danger? If so, what was its nature?
He rejoiced when the tedious inspection of the market-place was ended,
and the Spaniards were conducted toward the great temple, which Cortes
was especially desirous of visiting. They were still some distance from
it, when a page from the palace, mingling unnoticed with the throng,
managed to attract the attention of Marina, who accompanied the party
as interpreter, and delivered to her a whispered message. She turned
pale as she gathered its import, and beckoning Sandoval to the side of
her litter, said, in a low but thrillingly earnest tone:
"I am just told to inform the lord Sandoval that, if he would save
his brother's life, he must make all speed to the summit of the great
temple."
For a moment Sandoval was bewildered. His brother? Then it flashed into
his mind that Huetzin, the missing one, must be meant. He also recalled
the dread fate already escaped once by the young Toltec on the summit
of that same pyramid of horrors. Huetzin had never been very clear in
his account of how he escaped on that occasion, but it was likely that
a similar method was well guarded against this time, if, indeed, he
were in a similar danger.
While thus thinking, the young captain, saluting his commander, and
obtaining leave to take a handful of men and act as an advance guard in
clearing the streets, clapped spurs to Motilla and dashed away with a
haste that occasioned general surprise. It was his impetuous arrival at
the foot of the teocal that had occasioned such consternation on its
summit, and the chief priest was but one flight of stairs ahead of him
as he made his way, with all speed, up the long ascent. He was reckless
of the fact that he had far outstripped his followers and was alone.
Even when he gained the summit and found himself in the presence of a
large body of scowling priests, he had no thought of his own danger.
Drawing his sword, he advanced toward them with such a threatening air
that they instinctively fell back at his approach.
"Where is he? What have you done with him? Answer me, dogs, ere I
loosen thy false tongues with a taste of Spanish steel!" he cried, in
savage tones, forgetting that they could understand no word of what he
said.
As the priests retreated, so that his eyes could take in the whole
of the broad platform, he saw that the object of his search was not
there, nor was there any appearance of blood having been spilled that
morning. Still he was not satisfied, and as his followers joined him,
he led them, careless of the protests of the chief priest, into the
foul shrine, where, in spite of its sickening odor, he searched every
nook and corner, feeling with his sword in all places that he could not
otherwise reach.
When the rest of the visiting party gained the summit of the teocal,
the priest made such bitter complaint, to Montezuma, of the insult thus
offered to their god that, for the first time during his intercourse
with the whites, the king expressed anger at their proceedings, and
declared that he himself must do penance for their sacrilege.