bag of skin--stained darkly where his blood had flowed upon it--and then
tenderly and reverently lifted his poor mangled body and laid it before
the altar. And so I came back along the hidden path, safely and
unperceived, to the village: leaving the dead Cacique there in the
solemn solitude of that great mountain-top, whereon the dusk of night
was gathering, alone in death before the altar of his gods.
III.
THE MONK'S MANUSCRIPT.
When Pablo and I started, the day following, upon our return to Morelia,
the village of Santa María was overcast with mourning. The Cacique was
dead, they told us; had fallen among the rocks on the mountain-side,
being an old man and feeble, and so was killed. And I was expressly
charged with a message to the good Padre, begging him to hasten to Santa
María that the dead man might have Christian burial. I confess that I
found this request, though I promised faithfully to comply with it,
highly amusing; for I knew beyond the possibility of a doubt that if
ever a man died a most earnest and devout heathen it was this same
Cacique for whom Christian burial was sought; and I felt an assured
conviction that when the services of the Church over him were ended--and
whatever good was to be had for him from them secured--he would be
buried fittingly with all the fulness of his own heathen rites. But this
matter, lying in what I already perceived to be the very wide region
between the avowed faith and the hidden faith of the Indians, was no
concern of mine; yet I longed, as only a thoroughly earnest
archæologist could long, to be a witness of the funeral ceremony in
which Fray Antonio most conspicuously would not take part. As this was
hopelessly impossible--for only by very slow advances, if ever, could I
reach again by considerate investigation the point that in a moment I
had reached by chance--I came away from Santa María reluctantly, yet
greatly elated by the discovery that I had made.
So jealous was I in guarding the strange legacy that the Cacique had
bequeathed to me that not until I was safe back in Morelia, in my room
at the hotel, with the door locked behind me, did I venture to examine
it. The bag, about six inches square, tightly sewed on all four of its
sides, was made of snake-skin, and was provided with a loop of
snake-skin so that it might be hung from the neck upon the breast like a
scapulary. My hands trembled as I cut the delicate stitching of maguey
fibre, and then drew forth a mass of several thicknesses of coarse
gray-brown paper, also made of the maguey, such as the ancient Aztecs
used. Being unfolded, I had before me a sheet nearly two feet square, on
which was painted in dull colors a curious winding procession of figures
and symbols. My knowledge of such matters being then but scant, I could
tell only that this was a record, at once historical and geographical,
of a tribal migration; and I saw at a glance that it was unlike either
of the famous picture-writings which record the migration of the Aztecs
from Culhuacan to the Valley of Mexico, and then about that valley until
their final settlement in Tenochtitlan. I was reasonably confident,
indeed, that this record differed from all existing codices; and I was
filled with what I hope will be looked upon as a pardonable pride at
having discovered, within three months of my coming to Mexico, this
unique and inestimable treasure.
My natural desire was to carry my precious codex at once to Don Rafael,
that I might have the benefit of his superior knowledge in studying it
(for he had continued very intelligently the investigation of Aztec
picture-writing that was so well begun by the late Señor Ramirez), and
also that I might enjoy his sympathetic enjoyment of my discovery. As I
raised the bag, that I might replace in it the refolded paper--which I
already saw heralded to the world as the Codex Palgravius, and
reproduced in fac-simile in _Pre-Columbian Conditions on the Continent
of North America_--some glittering object dropped out of it and fell
with a jingling sound upon the stone floor. When I examined eagerly this
fresh treasure I found that it was a disk of gold, about the size and
thickness of a Mexican silver dollar, on which a curious figure was
rudely engraved. The engraving obviously represented an Aztec
name-device, the like of which, in the ancient picture-writings,
distinguish one from another the several generations of a line of kings.
This name-device was strange to me; but, as I have said, I had not at
that time studied carefully the Aztec picture-writings, and there were
many names of kings which I would not then have recognized. But that the
gold disk was the token concerning the meaning of which the dying
Cacique had given so strange a hint, I felt assured.
Being still further gladdened by this fresh discovery, I carried my
treasures at once to the Museo; and Don Rafael's enthusiasm over them
was as hearty as I could desire. Being so deeply learned in such
matters, he was able in the course of a single afternoon to arrive at
much of the meaning of my codex; and his rendering of it showed that it
possessed a very extraordinary historical value. In the Codex Boturini,
as is well known, are several important lapses that neither that eminent
scholar, nor any other archæologist whose conclusions can be considered
trustworthy, has been able to supply. All that reasonably can be
imagined concerning these breaks is that the historian of the Aztec
migration deliberately omitted certain facts from his pictured history.
The astonishing discovery that Don Rafael made in regard to my codex was
that it unquestionably supplied the facts concealed in one of the
longest of these unaccountable blanks. This was not a mere guess on his
part, but a demonstrable certainty. On a fac-simile of the Codex
Boturini he bade me observe attentively the pictures which preceded and
which followed the break in question; and then he showed me that these
same pictures were the beginning and the ending of my own
codex--obviously put there so that this secret record might be inserted
accurately into the public record of the wanderings of the Aztec tribe.
Further, the geographical facts set forth in the Codex Boturini having
been very solidly established, it was easy to determine approximately
the part of Mexico to which the beginning and the end of my codex
referred. But the migration here recorded was a very long one, and all
that Don Rafael could say with certainty concerning it was that it told
of far journeyings into the west and north. He was much puzzled,
moreover, by a picture that occurred about the middle of the codex, and
that seemed to be intended to represent a walled city among mountains.
To my mind this picture tallied well with what the dying Cacique had
told me touching the hidden stronghold of his race. But Don Rafael
attached very little importance to the Cacique's words; and on
archæological grounds maintained that a walled city was an impossibility
in primitive Mexico--for while walls were built in plenty by the
primitive Mexicans, and still are to be found in many places, no mention
of a walled city is made by the early chroniclers, and of such a city
there never has been found the slightest trace.
In regard to the engraved disk of gold, Don Rafael said at once and
positively that it represented a name-device which never had been
figured in any known Aztec writing; and he was of the opinion--being led
thereto by consideration of certain delicate peculiarities of the figure
which were too subtle for my uninstructed apprehension to grasp--that
the name here symbolized was that of a ruler who was both priest and
king. That the piece of gold was found associated with picture-writing
unquestionably belonging to the theocratic period lent additional color
to this assumption. The sum of our conclusions, therefore, was that we
had here the name-device of a priest-king who had ruled the Aztec tribe
during some portion of the first migration. And, assuming that he had
lived during the period to which my codex referred, and accepting the
system of dates tentatively adopted by Señor Ramirez, we even fixed the
ninth century of our era as the period in which he had lived and ruled.
During two whole days Don Rafael and I worked together over these
matters in the Museo; and it was not until our investigations were
ended--so far, at least, as investigations could be said to be ended
while yet no definite conclusions were reached--that my thoughts
reverted to Fray Antonio, and to the requirement of courtesy that I
should report to him the result of my course of study in the Indian
tongues. It is but justice to myself to add that, knowing him to be gone
to Santa María to attend to the Cacique's burial, I had temporarily
dismissed this matter from my mind.
But when I was come to the Church of San Francisco--carrying with me the
Codex Palgravius and the engraved disk of gold, in both of which I knew
that he would take a keen interest--I had no immediate opportunity of
exhibiting to him my treasures.
As I pushed open the sacristy door, when I had knocked upon it and he
had called me to enter, he came towards me at once in excitement so
eager that his face was all lit up by it; and almost before I could
greet him he exclaimed: "You are most happily come, my friend. At this
very moment I was about to send for you; for I have found that which
will stir your heart even as it has stirred mine. Yet perhaps," and he
spoke more gravely, "it will not stir your heart in the same way that
mine is stirred by it--for if I can but find the key that will unlock
the whole of the mystery that here partly is revealed, I see before me
such opportunity to garner the Lord's vintage as comes but seldom to His
servants in these later ages of the world."
So strange was Fray Antonio's manner, and so wayward seemed his speech,
that I was half inclined to think his religious enthusiasm fairly had
landed him in religious madness; which thought must have found utterance
in my look of doubtfulness, for he smiled kindly at me, and in a quieter
tone went on:
"My wits still are with me, Don Tomas; though I do not wonder at your
thinking that I have lost them. Sit down here and listen to the story of
my discovery; and when it is ended you will perceive that I very well
may be excited by it and still be sane."
Being assured by this calmer speech that Fray Antonio had not taken
leave of his senses, I made a weak disclaimer, that he smilingly
accepted, of my too clearly expressed doubts in that direction; and so
seated myself to listen.
"You know, señor," he began, "that common report has declared that
beneath this Church of San Francisco is a secret passage that extends
under the city and has its exit in the outlying meadow-lands. I may
confide in you frankly that this passage does exist, and that I, in
common with all members of my Order who have dwelt here, know precisely
where its entrance is and where its outlet. These matters need not be
exposed, for they are not essential to my purpose. But you must know
that in the midst of this passage I found on the day preceding your
return from the mountains a little room of which the door was so well
concealed that my finding it was the merest accident. And in the room,
with other things which need not here be named, I found a chest in which
are certain ancient papers of which I have been long in search. In the
archives are frequent references to these papers--they are of much
importance to our Order--but as with all my search I never could
discover them, I had decided in my mind that in one or another of the
troublous periods that our Church has passed through they had been
destroyed. It is plain to me now that in one of these periods of danger
they were hidden in this safe place.
"Some of these papers, dealing with mere matters of history, you will
have pleasure in examining in due time. But that which I shall show you
now, and which has so excited me that you not unnaturally thought that I
had gone mad over it, has got among the rest, as I verily believe, by
simple accident. Among the books and papers in the chest was a parchment
case on which was written 'Mission of Santa Marta,' and the date '1531.'
Within it were some loose sheets of paper on which were records of
Indian baptisms, as is evident by the strange mixing of Christian and of
heathen names. Plainly, this was the register of some mission station of
our Order in that far-back time. But as I pried into the case more
closely, I found, within a double fold of the parchment--yet not as
though intentionally hidden, but rather as though there placed for
temporary safety--a sealed letter directed to the blessed Fray Juan de
Zumárraga, who was of our Order, and who, as you know, was the first
bishop of our holy Church in this New Spain. As I drew forth the
letter, the seal, that time had loosened, fell away and left it open in
my hand. That this letter never until now has been read I am altogether
confident, for the prodigy of which it tells would have made so great a
stir that ample record of it would have been preserved. Nor is it
difficult to account for the way in which it missed coming to the eye
for which it was intended. In that early time many and many of our
Order, going out to preach God's Word among the barbarians, came happily
to that end which is the happiest end attainable in God's service: a
blessed martyrdom." Fray Antonio's voice trembled with deep feeling as
he spoke, and I remembered that Don Rafael had told me that this good
brother, it was believed, himself longed for a death so glorious. "And
being thus slain," Fray Antonio in a moment continued, "the mission
stations which they had established were left desolate, with what they
held--save such few things as might be cared for by the savage
murderers--remaining there within them. In later times, as the
conquering Spaniards overspread the land, many of these stations were
found, with nothing to tell save nameless bones of those who had died
there that God's will might be done.
"It is my conjecture, therefore, that this parchment case was found--how
many years after the death of him who owned it, who can tell?--in one of
the many stations that the savages thus ravaged; that the soldiers, or
whoever may have found it, brought it hither, the nearest important
abiding-place of our Order; and that, being carelessly examined, it was
carelessly thrown aside when found to contain, apparently, only the
little record of the work which our dead brother accomplished before God
granted him his crown of earthly martyrdom and so made quick his way to
heaven. Had the letter ever reached that 'first hand' for which the
writer says he waits to send it by, it assuredly would have come to the
knowledge of the gold-loving Spanish conquerors, and armies would have
gone forth to answer it. But our dead brother, having written it and
placed it in this fold of the parchment for safety until the chance to
send it southward should come, was cut off from life suddenly; and so,
of the prodigious marvel of which knowledge had so strangely come to
him, only this mute and hidden record remained."
"But the letter itself?" I asked, with more energy than politeness.
"What _is_ the story that it contains? What is this mystery? Tell me of
it first, and then explain as much as you please afterwards."
Fray Antonio smiled at me kindly. "Ah, you too are becoming excited," he
said. "But, truly, it is not fair that I should thus have kept you
waiting. Indeed, I am so full of it all that I forgot that as yet you
know nothing. Come out with me into the court-yard, where the light is
stronger--for the writing is very faint and pale--and I will read you
this letter in which so wonderful a story is set forth."
Together we passed out through a little door in the rear of the sacristy
into what had been the inner and smaller cloister court-yard of the old
convent--a lovely place in which a fountain set in a quaint stone basin
sparkled, and where warm sunshine fell upon the rippling water and upon
beds of sweet-smelling flowers. And here it was, standing among the
flowers in the sunshine, beside the quaint fountain, that Fray Antonio
read to me the letter--that in this strange fashion had come to us from
a hand dead for much more than three centuries, and that yet brought to
us two a vital message that wholly was to shape our destinies.
IV.
MONTEZUMA'S MESSENGER.
The letter was without date, but, being addressed to the Bishop
Zumárraga, the phrase that occurred in it--"this New Spain, wherein,
Very Reverend Father, you have labored in God's service this year and
more past"--showed that 1530 was the year in which it was written. As to
place, there practically was no clew at all. The writer referred
repeatedly to "this mission of Santa Marta, in the Chichimeca
country"--but the mission had perished utterly but a little while after
it was founded; and at that period the term Chichimeca country was used
by the Spaniards in speaking of any part of Mexico where wild Indians
were.
Being shorn of a portion of its pious verbiage, and somewhat modernized
in style, the ancient Spanish of this letter contained in effect these
English words:
[Illustration: THE LETTER FROM THE DEAD.]
"VERY REVEREND FATHER,--This present letter will be sent
forward to you by the first hand by which it may be hence
transmitted; and in your wisdom, with God's grace also guiding you,
I doubt not that you will take measures for sending missionaries of
our Order to the great company of the heathen whose whereabouts I am
to disclose to you. And also, no doubt--keeping the matter secret
from the pestilent Oidores of the Audiencia--you will communicate
this strange matter through safe channels to our lord the King: that
with our missionaries an army may go forth, and that so the great
treasure of which I give tidings may be wrested from the heathen to
be used for God's glory and the enriching of our lord the King.
"Know, Very Reverend Father, that a month since, I being then
abroad from this mission of Santa Marta, preaching God's word in a
certain village of the Chichimecas that is five leagues to the
northward, was so strengthened by God's grace that many of the
heathen professed our holy faith and were baptized. And of these
was one who among that tribe was held a captive. Which captive, as
I found, was of the nation that dwelt in Tenochtitlan before our
great captain, Don Fernando Cortés, reduced that city to
submission. But little of earthly life remained to this poor
captive when I, unworthily but happily, opened to him the way to
life glorious and eternal; for in the fight that happened when he
was captured--of which fight he alone of all his companions had
survived--he was sorely wounded; and though in time his wounds had
healed he remained but a weakly man, and the service to which his
captors forced him was hard. So it was that I had but little more
than time to put him in the way leading to heaven before his spirit
gladly forsook its weary body and went thence from earth.
"That he truly was a convert to our holy faith I am well assured,
by the signs of a spirit meet for repentance which he showed in his
own person; and still more by his strong longing, most earnestly
expressed, that this same glorious faith of freedom should be
preached to a certain great company of his people, whereof he most
secretly told me, who still remain bound in the bondage of
idolatry. And it is what he told me of these, Very Reverend Father,
and of the marvellous hidden city wherein they dwell, and of the
mighty treasure which there they guard, that I desire now to bring
to your private knowledge, before it shall be known of by the
Oidores, and through you to our lord the King. Here now is the
whole of the mystery that he recited:
"In very ancient times, he said, his people came forth from seven
caves which are in the western region of this continent, and
wandered long in search of an abiding-place. And in the course of
ages it came to pass that a certain wise king ruled over them to
whom was given the gift of prophecy. Which king, by name
Chaltzantzin, foretold that in the later ages there should come an
army of fair and bearded men from the eastward, who would prevail
over the people of his race: slaying many, and making of the
remainder slaves. Being sorely troubled by thought of what he thus
foresaw, he set himself to provide a source of strength whereon his
descendants in that later time might draw in the hour of their
peril--and so save themselves from cruel death and from yet crueler
slavery. To which end, in a certain great valley that lies securely
hidden among the mountains of this continent, he caused to be built
a walled city; and this city he then peopled with the very bravest
and strongest of his race. And he made for those dwelling there a
perpetual law that commanded that all such as showed themselves
when come to maturity to be weak or malformed in body, or coward of
heart, then should be put to death; to the end that their natural
increase ever should be of the same stout stuff as themselves, and
also that there might be no lack of victims for the sacrifices
which are acceptable to their barbarous gods. And thus he provided
that in the time of need there should be here a strong army of
valiant warriors, ready to come forth to fight against the
fair-faced bearded men, and by conquering them to save safe the
land.
"And yet more provision did King Chaltzantzin make for the
strengthening and the saving of his race in the later ages. Within
this walled city of Culhuacan he caused to be builded a great
treasure-house, wherein he garnered such store of riches as never
was gathered together in one place since the beginning of the
world. And his order was that if even the power of the army which
should go forth from that city sufficed not to conquer the foreign
foemen, then should this vast treasure be used to buy his people's
ransom, that they might not perish nor be enslaved.
"Having set all which great matters in order, King Chaltzantzin
came forth from the Valley of Aztlan, leaving behind him the noble
colony that he had there founded; and so with his people wandered
vagrant--even as their gods had commanded that they should go until
by a sign from heaven they should be shown where was to be their
lasting home. And that the fulfilling of his purpose might be made
the more sure, he brought his people forth from that valley by most
perilous passes and through strait ways so that they might not
return thither; and that they who remained might not follow, he
closed the way behind him with mighty bars.
"In the fulness of time this wise king died, and others reigned in
his stead; and at last the ages of wandering of the Aztec tribe
were ended by the sign coming from heaven whereby they knew that
the Valley of Anahuac was to be their abiding home. There built
they the city of Tenochtitlan: which city the valiant captain, Don
Fernando Cortés, conquered this short time since--and by conquest
of it verified precisely the prophecy that King Chaltzantzin
uttered in very ancient times.