THE CROWNING OF GUATEMOC
Our business with the people of the Otomie being ended for a while, we
returned to the city of Tenoctitlan, which we reached safely, having
been absent a month and a day. It was but a little time, and yet long
enough for fresh sorrows to have fallen on that most unhappy town. For
now the Almighty had added to the burdens which were laid upon her. She
had tasted of death by the sword of the white man, now death was with
her in another shape. For the Spaniard had brought the foul sicknesses
of Europe with him, and small-pox raged throughout the land. Day by day
thousands perished of it, for these ignorant people treated the plague
by pouring cold water upon the bodies of those smitten, driving the
fever inwards to the vitals, so that within two days the most of them
died.[7] It was pitiful to see them maddened with suffering, as they
wandered to and fro about the streets, spreading the distemper far and
wide. They were dying in the houses, they lay dead by companies in the
market places awaiting burial, for the sickness took its toll of every
family, the very priests were smitten by it at the altar as they
sacrificed children to appease the anger of the gods. But the worst is
still to tell; Cuitlahua, the emperor, was struck down by the illness,
and when we reached the city he lay dying. Still, he desired to see us,
and sent commands that we should be brought to his bedside. In vain did
I pray Otomie not to obey; she, who was without fear, laughed at me,
saying, “What, my husband, shall I shrink from that which you must
face? Come, let us go and make report of our mission. If the sickness
takes me and I die, it will be because my hour has come.”
[7] This treatment is followed among the Indians of Mexico to this
day, but if the writer may believe what he heard in that country, the
patient is frequently cured by it.
So we went and were ushered into a chamber where Cuitlahua lay covered
by a sheet, as though he were already dead, and with incense burning
round him in golden censers. When we entered he was in a stupor, but
presently he awoke, and it was announced to him that we waited.
“Welcome, niece,” he said, speaking through the sheet and in a thick
voice; “you find me in an evil case, for my days are numbered, the
pestilence of the Teules slays those whom their swords spared. Soon
another monarch must take my throne, as I took your father’s, and I do
not altogether grieve, for on him will rest the glory and the burden of
the last fight of the Aztecs. Your report, niece; let me hear it
swiftly. What say the clans of the Otomie, your vassals?”
“My lord,” Otomie answered, speaking humbly and with bowed head, “may
this distemper leave you, and may you live to reign over us for many
years! My lord, my husband Teule and I have won back the most part of
the people of the Otomie to our cause and standard. An army of twenty
thousand mountain men waits upon your word, and when those are spent
there are more to follow.”
“Well done, daughter of Montezuma, and you, white man,” gasped the
dying king. “The gods were wise when they refused you both upon the
stone of sacrifice, and I was foolish when I would have slain you,
Teule. To you and all I say be of a steadfast heart, and if you must
die, then die with honour. The fray draws on, but I shall not share it,
and who knows its end?”
Now he lay silent for a while, then of a sudden, as though an
inspiration had seized him, he cast the sheet from his face and sat
upon his couch, no pleasant sight to see, for the pestilence had done
its worst with him.
“Alas!” he wailed, “and alas! I see the streets of Tenoctitlan red with
blood and fire, I see her dead piled up in heaps, and the horses of the
Teules trample them. I see the Spirit of my people, and her voice is
sighing and her neck is heavy with chains. The children are visited
because of the evil of the fathers. Ye are doomed, people of Anahuac,
whom I would have nurtured as an eagle nurtures her young. Hell yawns
for you and Earth refuses you because of your sins, and the remnant
that remains shall be slaves from generation to generation, till the
vengeance is accomplished!”
Having cried thus with a great voice, Cuitlahua fell back upon the
cushions, and before the frightened leech who tended him could lift his
head, he had passed beyond the troubles of this earth. But the words
which he had spoken remained fixed in the hearts of those who heard
them, though they were told to none except to Guatemoc.
Thus then in my presence and in that of Otomie died Cuitlahua, emperor
of the Aztecs, when he had reigned but fifteen weeks. Once more the
nation mourned its king, the chief of many a thousand of its children
whom the pestilence swept with him to the “Mansions of the Sun,” or
perchance to the “darkness behind the Stars.”
But the mourning was not for long, for in the urgency of the times it
was necessary that a new emperor should be crowned to take command of
the armies and rule the nation. Therefore on the morrow of the burial
of Cuitlahua the council of the four electors was convened, and with
them lesser nobles and princes to the number of three hundred, and I
among them in the right of my rank as general, and as husband of the
princess Otomie. There was no great need of deliberation, indeed, for
though the names of several were mentioned, the princes knew that there
was but one man who by birth, by courage, and nobility of mind, was
fitted to cope with the troubles of the nation. That man was Guatemoc,
my friend and blood brother, the nephew of the two last emperors and
the husband of my wife’s sister, Montezuma’s daughter, Tecuichpo. All
knew it, I say, except, strangely enough, Guatemoc himself, for as we
passed into the council he named two other princes, saying that without
doubt the choice lay between them.
It was a splendid and a solemn sight, that gathering of the four great
lords, the electors, dressed in their magnificent robes, and of the
lesser council of confirmation of three hundred lords and princes, who
sat without the circle but in hearing of all that passed. Very solemn
also was the prayer of the high priest, who, clad in his robes of
sable, seemed like a blot of ink dropped on a glitter of gold. Thus he
prayed:
“O god, thou who art everywhere and seest all, knowest that Cuitlahua
our king is gathered to thee. Thou hast set him beneath thy footstool
and there he rests in his rest. He has travelled that road which we
must travel every one, he has reached the royal inhabitations of our
dead, the home of everlasting shadows. There where none shall trouble
him he is sunk in sleep. His brief labours are accomplished, and soiled
with sin and sorrow, he has gone to thee. Thou gavest him joys to taste
but not to drink; the glory of empire passed before his eyes like the
madness of a dream. With tears and with prayers to thee he took up his
load, with happiness he laid it down. Where his forefathers went,
thither he has followed, nor can he return to us. Our fire is an ash
and our lamp is darkness. Those who wore his purple before him
bequeathed to him the intolerable weight of rule, and he in his turn
bequeaths it to another. Truly, he should give thee praise, thou king
of kings, master of the stars, that standest alone, who hast lifted
from his shoulders so great a burden, and from his brow this crown of
woes, paying him peace for war and rest for labour.
“O god our hope, choose now a servant to succeed him, a man after thine
own heart, who shall not fear nor falter, who shall toil and not be
weary, who shall lead thy people as a mother leads her children. Lord
of lords, give grace to Guatemoc thy creature, who is our choice. Seal
him to thy service, and as thy priest let him sit upon thy earthly
throne for his life days. Let thy foes become his footstool, let him
exalt thy glory, proclaim thy worship, and protect thy kingdom. Thus
have I prayed to thee in the name of the nation. O god, thy will be
done!”
When the high priest had made an end of his prayer, the first of the
four great electors rose, saying:
“Guatemoc, in the name of god and with the voice of the people of
Anahuac, we summon you to the throne of Anahuac. Long may you live and
justly may you rule, and may the glory be yours of beating back into
the sea those foes who would destroy us. Hail to you, Guatemoc, Emperor
of the Aztecs and of their vassal tribes.” And all the three hundred of
the council of confirmation repeated in a voice of thunder, “Hail to
you, Guatemoc, Emperor!”
Now the prince himself stood forward and spoke:
“You lords of election, and you, princes, generals, nobles and captains
of the council of confirmation, hear me. May the gods be my witness
that when I entered this place I had no thought or knowledge that I was
destined to so high an honour as that which you would thrust upon me.
And may the gods be my witness again that were my life my own, and not
a trust in the hands of this people, I would say to you, ‘Seek on and
find one worthier to fill the throne.’ But my life is not my own.
Anahuac calls her son and I obey the call. War to the death threatens
her, and shall I hang back while my arm has strength to smite and my
brain has power to plan? Not so. Now and henceforth I vow myself to the
service of my country and to war against the Teules. I will make no
peace with them, I will take no rest till they are driven back whence
they came, or till I am dead beneath their swords. None can say what
the gods have in store for us, it may be victory or it may be
destruction, but be it triumph or death, let us swear a great oath
together, my people and my brethren. Let us swear to fight the Teules
and the traitors who abet them, for our cities, our hearths and our
altars; till the cities are a smoking ruin, till the hearths are
cumbered with their dead, and the altars run red with the blood of
their worshippers. So, if we are destined to conquer, our triumph shall
be made sure, and if we are doomed to fail, at least there will be a
story to be told of us. Do you swear, my people and my brethren?”
“We swear,” they answered with a shout.
“It is well,” said Guatemoc. “And now may everlasting shame overtake
him who breaks this oath.”
Thus then was Guatemoc, the last and greatest of the Aztec emperors,
elected to the throne of his forefathers. It was happy for him that he
could not foresee that dreadful day when he, the noblest of men, must
meet a felon’s doom at the hand of these very Teules. Yet so it came
about, for the destiny that lay upon the land smote all alike, indeed
the greater the man the more certain was his fate.
When all was done I hurried to the palace to tell Otomie what had come
to pass, and found her in our sleeping chamber lying on her bed.
“What ails you, Otomie?” I asked.
“Alas! my husband,” she answered, “the pestilence has stricken me. Come
not near, I pray you, come not near. Let me be nursed by the women. You
shall not risk your life for me, beloved.”
“Peace,” I said and came to her. It was too true, I who am a physician
knew the symptoms well. Indeed had it not been for my skill, Otomie
would have died. For three long weeks I fought with death at her
bedside, and in the end I conquered. The fever left her, and thanks to
my treatment, there was no single scar upon her lovely face. During
eight days her mind wandered without ceasing, and it was then I learned
how deep and perfect was her love for me. For all this while she did
nothing but rave of me, and the secret terror of her heart was
disclosed—that I should cease to care for her, that her beauty and love
might pall upon me so that I should leave her, that “the flower maid,”
for so she named Lily, who dwelt across the sea should draw me back to
her by magic; this was the burden of her madness. At length her senses
returned and she spoke, saying:
“How long have I lain ill, husband?”
I told her and she said, “And have you nursed me all this while, and
through so foul a sickness?”
“Yes, Otomie, I have tended you.”
“What have I done that you should be so good to me?” she murmured. Then
some dreadful thought seemed to strike her, for she moaned as though in
pain, and said, “A mirror! Swift, bring me a mirror!”
I gave her one, and rising on her arm, eagerly she scanned her face in
the dim light of the shadowed room, then let the plate of burnished
gold fall, and sank back with a faint and happy cry:
“I feared,” she said, “I feared that I had become hideous as those are
whom the pestilence has smitten, and that you would cease to love me,
than which it had been better to die.”
“For shame,” I said. “Do you then think that love can be frightened
away by some few scars?”
“Yes,” Otomie answered, “that is the love of a man; not such love as
mine, husband. Had I been thus—ah! I shudder to think of it—within a
year you would have hated me. Perhaps it had not been so with another,
the fair maid of far away, but me you would have hated. Nay, I know it,
though I know this also, that I should not have lived to feel your
hate. Oh! I am thankful, thankful.”
Then I left her for a while, marvelling at the great love which she had
given me, and wondering also if there was any truth in her words, and
if the heart of man could be so ungrateful and so vile. Supposing that
Otomie was now as many were who walked the streets of Tenoctitlan that
day, a mass of dreadful scars, hairless, and with blind and whitened
eyeballs, should I then have shrunk from her? I do not know, and I
thank heaven that no such trial was put upon my constancy. But I am
sure of this; had I become a leper even, Otomie would not have shrunk
from me.
So Otomie recovered from her great sickness, and shortly afterwards the
pestilence passed away from Tenoctitlan. And now I had many other
things to think of, for the choosing of Guatemoc—my friend and blood
brother—as emperor meant much advancement to me, who was made a general
of the highest class, and a principal adviser in his councils. Nor did
I spare myself in his service, but laboured by day and night in the
work of preparing the city for siege, and in the marshalling of the
troops, and more especially of that army of Otomies, who came, as they
had promised, to the number of twenty thousand. The work was hard
indeed, for these Indian tribes lacked discipline and powers of unity,
without which their thousands were of little avail in a war with white
men. Also there were great jealousies between their leaders which must
be overcome, and I was myself an object of jealousy. Moreover, many
tribes took this occasion of the trouble of the Aztecs to throw off
their allegiance or vassalage, and even if they did not join the
Spaniards, to remain neutral watching for the event of the war. Still
we laboured on, dividing the armies into regiments after the fashion of
Europe, and stationing each in its own quarter drilling them to the
better use of arms, provisioning the city for a siege, and weeding out
as many useless mouths as we might; and there was but one man in
Tenoctitlan who toiled at these tasks more heavily than I, and that was
Guatemoc the emperor, who did not rest day or night. I tried even to
make powder with sulphur which was brought from the throat of the
volcan Popo, but, having no knowledge of that art, I failed. Indeed, it
would have availed us little had I succeeded, for having neither
arquebusses nor cannons, and no skill to cast them, we could only have
used it in mining roads and gateways, and, perhaps, in grenades to be
thrown with the hand.
And so the months went on, till at length spies came in with the
tidings that the Spaniards were advancing in numbers, and with them
countless hosts of allies.
Now I would have sent Otomie to seek safety among her own people, but
she laughed me to scorn, and said:
“Where you are, there I will be, husband. What, shall it be suffered
that you face death, perhaps to find him, when I am not at your side to
die with you? If that is the fashion of white women, I leave it to
them, beloved, and here with you I stay.”