THE ARISING OF PAPANTZIN
On the morrow Papantzin died, and was buried with great pomp that same
evening in the burial-ground at Chapoltepec, by the side of the
emperor’s royal ancestors. But, as will be seen, she was not content
with their company. On that day also, I learned that to be a god is not
all pleasure, since it was expected of me that I must master various
arts, and chiefly the horrid art of music, to which I never had any
desire. Still my own wishes were not allowed to weigh in the matter,
for there came to me tutors, aged men who might have found better
employment, to instruct me in the use of the lute, and on this
instrument I must learn to strum. Others there were also, who taught me
letters, poetry, and art, as they were understood among the Aztecs, and
all this knowledge I was glad of. Still I remembered the words of the
preacher which tell us that he who increaseth knowledge increaseth
sorrow, and moreover I could see little use in acquiring learning that
was to be lost shortly on the stone of sacrifice.
As to this matter of my sacrifice I was at first desperate. But
reflection told me that I had already passed many dangers and come out
unscathed, and therefore it was possible that I might escape this one
also. At least death was still a long way off, and for the present I
was a god. So I determined that whether I died or lived, while I lived
I would live like a god and take such pleasures as came to my hand, and
I acted on this resolve. No man ever had greater or more strange
opportunities, and no man can have used them better. Indeed, had it not
been for the sorrowful thoughts of my lost love and home which would
force themselves upon me, I should have been almost happy, because of
the power that I wielded and the strangeness of all around me. But I
must to my tale.
During the days that followed the death of Papantzin the palace and the
city also were plunged in ferment. The minds of men were shaken
strangely because of the rumours that filled the air. Every night the
fiery portent blazed in the east, every day a new wonder or omen was
reported, and with it some wild tale of the doings of the Spaniards,
who by most were held to be white gods, the children of Quetzal, come
back to take the land which their forefather ruled.
But of all that were troubled, none were in such bad case as the
emperor himself, who, during these weeks scarcely ate or drank or
slept, so heavy were his fears upon him. In this strait he sent
messengers to his ancient rival, that wise and severe man Neza, the
king of the allied state of Tezcuco, begging that he would visit him.
This king came, an old man with a fierce and gleaming eye, and I was
witness to the interview that followed, for in my quality of god I had
full liberty of the palace, and even to be present at the councils of
the emperor and his nobles. When the two monarchs had feasted together,
Montezuma spoke to Neza of the matter of the omens and of the coming of
the Teules, asking him to lighten the darkness by his wisdom. Then Neza
pulled his long grey beard and answered that heavy as the heart of
Montezuma might be, it must grow still heavier before the end.
“See, Lord,” he said, “I am so sure that the days of our empire are
numbered, that I will play you at dice for my kingdoms which you and
your forefathers have ever desired to win.”
“For what wager?” asked Montezuma.
“I will play you thus,” answered Neza. “You shall stake three fighting
cocks, of which, should I win, I ask the spurs only. I set against them
all the wide empire of Tezcuco.”
“A small stake,” said Montezuma; “cocks are many and kingdoms few.”
“Still, it shall serve our turn,” answered the aged king, “for know
that we play against fate. As the game goes, so shall the issue be. If
you win my kingdoms all is well; if I win the cocks, then good-bye to
the glory of Anahuac, for its people will cease to be a people, and
strangers shall possess the land.”
“Let us play and see,” said Montezuma, and they went down to the place
that is called _tlachco_, where the games are set. Here they began the
match with dice and at first all went well for Montezuma, so that he
called aloud that already he was lord of Tezcuco.
“May it be so!” answered the aged Neza, and from that moment the chance
changed. For strive as he would, Montezuma could not win another point,
and presently the set was finished, and Neza had won the cocks. Now the
music played, and courtiers came forward to give the king homage on his
success. But he rose sighing, and said:
“I had far sooner lose my kingdoms than have won these fowls, for if I
had lost my kingdoms they would still have passed into the hands of one
of my own race. Now alas! my possessions and his must come under the
hand of strangers, who shall cast down our gods and bring our names to
nothing.”
And having spoken thus, he rose, and taking farewell of the emperor, he
departed for his own land, where, as it chanced, he died very shortly,
without living to see the fulfilment of his fears.
On the morrow of his departure came further accounts of the doings of
the Spaniards that plunged Montezuma into still greater alarm. In his
terror he sent for an astronomer, noted throughout the land for the
truth of his divinations. The astronomer came, and was received by the
emperor privately. What he told him I do not know, but at least it was
nothing pleasant, for that very night men were commanded to pull down
the house of this sage, who was buried in its ruins.
Two days after the death of the astronomer, Montezuma bethought him
that, as he believed, I also was a Teule, and could give him
information. So at the hour of sunset he sent for me, bidding me walk
with him in the gardens. I went thither, followed by my musicians and
attendants, who would never leave me in peace, but he commanded that
all should stand aside, as he wished to speak with me alone. Then he
began to walk beneath the mighty cedar trees, and I with him, but
keeping one pace behind.
“Teule,” he said at length, “tell me of your countrymen, and why they
have come to these shores. See that you speak truth.”
“They are no countrymen of mine, O Montezuma,” I answered, “though my
mother was one of them.”
“Did I not bid you speak the truth, Teule? If your mother was one of
them, must you not also be of them; for are you not of your mother’s
bone and blood?”
“As the king pleases,” I answered bowing. Then I began and told him of
the Spaniards—of their country, their greatness, their cruelty and
their greed of gold, and he listened eagerly, though I think that he
believed little of what I said, for his fear had made him very
suspicious. When I had done, he spoke and said:
“Why do they come here to Anahuac?”
“I fear, O king, that they come to take the land, or at the least to
rob it of all its treasure, and to destroy its faiths.”
“What then is your counsel, Teule? How can I defend myself against
these mighty men, who are clothed in metal, and ride upon fierce wild
beasts, who have instruments that make a noise like thunder, at the
sound of which their adversaries fall dead by hundreds, and who bear
weapons of shining silver in their hands? Alas! there is no defence
possible, for they are the children of Quetzal come back to take the
land. From my childhood I have known that this evil overshadowed me,
and now it is at my door.”
“If I, who am only a god, may venture to speak to the lord of the
earth,” I answered, “I say that the reply is easy. Meet force by force.
The Teules are few and you can muster a thousand soldiers for every one
of theirs. Fall on them at once, do not hesitate till their prowess
finds them friends, but crush them.”
“Such is the counsel of one whose mother was a Teule;” the emperor
answered, with sarcasm and bitter meaning. “Tell me now, counsellor,
how am I to know that in fighting against them I shall not be fighting
against the gods; how even am I to learn the true wishes and purposes
of men or gods who cannot speak my tongue and whose tongue I cannot
speak?”
“It is easy, O Montezuma,” I answered. “I can speak their tongue; send
me to discover for you.”
Now as I spoke thus my heart bounded with hope, for if once I could
come among the Spaniards, perhaps I might escape the altar of
sacrifice. Also they seemed a link between me and home. They had sailed
hither in ships, and ships can retrace their path. For though at
present my lot was not all sorrow, it will be guessed that I should
have been glad indeed to find myself once more among Christian men.
Montezuma looked at me a while and answered:
“You must think me very foolish, Teule. What! shall I send you to tell
my fears and weakness to your countrymen, and to show them the joints
in my harness? Do you then suppose that I do not know you for a spy
sent to this land by these same Teules to gather knowledge of the land?
Fool, I knew it from the first, and by Huitzel! were you not vowed to
Tezcat, your heart should smoke to-morrow on the altar of Huitzel. Be
warned, and give me no more false counsels lest your end prove swifter
than you think. Learn that I have asked these questions of you to a
purpose, and by the command of the gods, as it was written on the
hearts of those sacrificed this day. This was the purpose and this was
the command, that I might discover your secret mind, and that I should
shun whatever advice you chanced to give. You counsel me to fight the
Teules, therefore I will not fight them, but meet them with gifts and
fair words, for I know well that you would have me to do that which
should bring me to my doom.”
Thus he spoke very fiercely and in a low voice, his head held low and
his arms crossed upon his breast, and I saw that he shook with passion.
Even then, though I was very much afraid, for god as I was, a nod from
this mighty king would have sent me to death by torment, I wondered at
the folly of one who in everything else was so wise. Why should he
doubt me thus and allow superstition to drag him down to ruin? To-day I
see the answer. Montezuma did not these things of himself, but because
the hand of destiny worked with his hand, and the voice of destiny
spoke in his voice. The gods of the Aztecs were false gods indeed, but
I for one believe that they had life and intelligence, for those
hideous shapes of stone were the habitations of devils, and the priests
spoke truth when they said that the sacrifice of men was pleasing to
their gods.
To these devils the king went for counsel through the priests, and now
this doom was on them, that they must give false counsel to their own
destruction, and to the destruction of those who worshipped them, as
was decreed by One more powerful than they.
Now while we were talking the sun had sunk swiftly, so that all the
world was dark. But the light still lingered on the snowy crests of the
volcans Popo and Ixtac, staining them an awful red. Never before to my
sight had the shape of the dead woman whose everlasting bier is Ixtac’s
bulk, seemed so clear and wonderful as on that night, for either it was
so or my fancy gave it the very shape and colour of a woman’s corpse
steeped in blood and laid out for burial. Nor was it my phantasy alone,
for when Montezuma had finished upbraiding me he chanced to look up,
and his eyes falling on the mountain remained fixed there.
“Look now, Teule!” he said, presently, with a solemn laugh; “yonder
lies the corpse of the nations of Anahuac washed in a water of blood
and made ready for burial. Is she not terrible in death?”
As he spoke the words and turned to go, a sound of doleful wailing came
from the direction of the mountain, a very wild and unearthly sound
that caused the blood in my veins to stand still. Now Montezuma caught
my arm in his fear, and we gazed together on Ixtac, and it seemed to us
that this wonder happened. For in that red and fearful light the red
figure of the sleeping woman arose, or appeared to rise, from its bier
of stone. It arose slowly like one who awakes from sleep, and presently
it stood upright upon the mountain’s brow, towering high into the air.
There it stood a giant and awakened corpse, its white wrappings stained
with blood, and we trembled to see it.
For a while the wraith remained thus gazing towards the city of
Tenoctitlan, then suddenly it threw its vast arms upward as though in
grief, and at that moment the night rushed in upon it and covered it,
while the sound of wailing died slowly away.
“Say, Teule,” gasped the emperor, “do I not well to be afraid when such
portents as these meet my eyes day by day? Hearken to the lamentations
in the city; we have not seen this sight alone. Listen how the people
cry aloud with fear and the priests beat their drums to avert the omen.
Weep on, ye people, and ye priests pray and do sacrifice; it is very
fitting, for the day of your doom is upon you. O Tenoctitlan, queen of
cities, I see you ruined and desolate, your palaces blackened with
fire, your temples desecrated, your pleasant gardens a wilderness. I
see your highborn women the wantons of stranger lords, and your princes
their servants; the canals run red with the blood of your children,
your gateways are blocked with their bones. Death is about you
everywhere, dishonour is your daily bread, desolation is your portion.
Farewell to you, queen of the cities, cradle of my forefathers in which
I was nursed!”
Thus Montezuma lamented in the darkness, and as he cried aloud the
great moon rose over the edge of the world and poured its level light
through the boughs of the cedars clothed in their ghostly robe of moss.
It struck upon Montezuma’s tall shape, on his distraught countenance
and thin hands as he waved them to and fro in his prophetic agony, on
my glittering garments, and the terror-stricken band of courtiers, and
the musicians who had ceased from their music. A little wind sprang up
also, moaning sadly in the mighty trees above and against the rocks of
Chapoltepec. Never did I witness a scene more strange or more pregnant
with mystery and the promise of unborn horror, than that of this great
monarch mourning over the downfall of his race and power. As yet no
misfortune had befallen the one or the other, and still he knew that
both were doomed, and these words of lamentation burst from a heart
broken by a grief of which the shadow only lay upon it.
But the wonders of that night were not yet done with.
When Montezuma had made an end of crying his prophecies, I asked him
humbly if I should summon to him the lords who were in attendance on
him, but who stood at some distance.
“Nay,” he answered, “I will not have them see me thus with grief and
terror upon my face. Whoever fears, at least I must seem brave. Walk
with me a while, Teule, and if it is in your mind to murder me I shall
not grieve.”
I made no answer, but followed him as he led the way down the darkest
of the winding paths that run between the cedar trees, where it would
have been easy for me to kill him if I wished, but I could not see how
I should be advantaged by the deed; also though I knew that Montezuma
was my enemy, my heart shrank from the thought of murder. For a mile or
more he walked on without speaking, now beneath the shadow of the
trees, and now through open spaces of garden planted with lovely
flowers, till at last we came to the gates of the place where the royal
dead are laid to rest. Now in front of these gates was an open space of
turf on which the moonlight shone brightly, and in the centre of this
space lay something white, shaped like a woman. Here Montezuma halted
and looked at the gates, then said:
“These gates opened four days since for Papantzin, my sister; how long,
I wonder, will pass before they open for me?”
As he spoke, the white shape upon the grass which I had seen and he had
not seen, stirred like an awakening sleeper. As the snow shape upon the
mountain had stirred, so this shape stirred; as it had arisen, so this
one arose; as it threw its arms upwards, so this one threw up her arms.
Now Montezuma saw and stood still trembling, and I trembled also.
Then the woman—for it was a woman—advanced slowly towards us, and as
she came we saw that she was draped in graveclothes. Presently she
lifted her head and the moonlight fell full upon her face. Now
Montezuma groaned aloud and I groaned, for we saw that the face was the
thin pale face of the princess Papantzin—Papantzin who had lain four
days in the grave. On she came toward us, gliding like one who walks in
her sleep, till she stopped before the bush in the shadow of which we
stood. Now Papantzin, or the ghost of Papantzin, looked at us with
blind eyes, that is with eyes that were open and yet did not seem to
see.
“Are you there, Montezuma, my brother?” she said in the voice of
Papantzin; “surely I feel your presence though I cannot see you.”
Now Montezuma stepped from the shadow and stood face to face with the
dead.
“Who are you?” he said, “who wear the shape of one dead and are dressed
in the garments of the dead?”
“I am Papantzin,” she answered, “and I am risen out of death to bring
you a message, Montezuma, my brother.”
“What message do you bring me?” he asked hoarsely.
“I bring you a message of doom, my brother. Your empire shall fall and
soon you shall be accompanied to death by tens of thousands of your
people. For four days I have lived among the dead, and there I have
seen your false gods which are devils. There also I have seen the
priests that served them, and many of those who worshipped them plunged
into torment unutterable. Because of the worship of these demon gods
the people of Anahuac is destined to destruction.”
“Have you no word of comfort for me, Papantzin, my sister?” he asked.
“None,” she answered. “Perchance if you abandon the worship of the
false gods you may save your soul; your life you cannot save, nor the
lives of your people.”
Then she turned and passed away into the shadow of the trees; I heard
her graveclothes sweep upon the grass.
Now a fury seized Montezuma and he raved aloud, saying:
“Curses on you, Papantzin, my sister! Why then do you come back from
the dead to bring me such evil tidings? Had you brought hope with you,
had you shown a way of escape, then I would have welcomed you. May you
go back into darkness and may the earth lie heavy on your heart for
ever. As for my gods, my fathers worshipped them and I will worship
them till the end; ay, if they desert me, at least I will never desert
them. The gods are angry because the sacrifices are few upon their
altars, henceforth they shall be doubled; ay, the priests of the gods
shall themselves be sacrificed because they neglect their worship.”
Thus he raved on, after the fashion of a weak man maddened with terror,
while his nobles and attendants who had followed him at a distance,
clustered about him, fearful and wondering. At length there came an
end, for tearing with his thin hands at his royal robes and at his hair
and beard, Montezuma fell and writhed in a fit upon the ground.
Then they carried him into the palace and none saw him for three days
and nights. But he made no idle threat as to the sacrifices, for from
that night forward they were doubled throughout the land. Already the
shadow of the Cross lay deep upon the altars of Anahuac, but still the
smoke of their offerings went up to heaven and the cry of the captives
rang round the _teocallis_. The hour of the demon gods was upon them
indeed, but now they reaped their last red harvest, and it was rich.
Now I, Thomas Wingfield, saw these portents with my own eyes, but I
cannot say whether they were indeed warnings sent from heaven or
illusions springing from the accidents of nature. The land was
terror-struck, and it may happen that the minds of men thus smitten can
find a dismal meaning in omens which otherwise had passed unnoticed.
That Papantzin rose from the dead is true, though perhaps she only
swooned and never really died. At the least she did not go back there
for a while, for though I never saw her again, it is said that she
lived to become a Christian and told strange tales of what she had seen
in the land of Death.[6]
[6] For the history of the resurrection of Papantzin, see note to
_Jourdanet’s_ translation of _Sahagun_, page 870.—AUTHOR.