Kitabı oku: «The Fair God; or, The Last of the 'Tzins», sayfa 13

CHAPTER IV.
THE TRIAL

Hualpa’s adventure in the garden made a great stir in the palace and the city. Profound was the astonishment, therefore, when it became known that the savior of the king and the murderer of the Tezcucan were one and the same person, and that, in the latter character, he was to be taken into court and tried for his life, Montezuma himself acting as accuser. Though universally discredited, the story had the effect of drawing an immense attendance at the trial.

“Ho, Chalcan! Fly not your friends in that way!”

So the broker was saluted by some men nobly dressed, whom he was about passing on the great street. He stopped, and bowed very low.

“A pleasant day, my lords! Your invitation honors me; the will of his patrons should always be law to the poor keeper of a portico. I am hurrying to the trial.”

“Then stay with us. We also have a curiosity to see the assassin.”

“My good lord speaks harshly. The boy, whom I love as a son, cannot be what you call him.”

The noble laughed. “Take it not ill, Chalcan. So much do I honor the hand that slew the base Tezcucan that I care not whether it was in fair fight or by vantage taken. But what do you know about the king being accuser to-day?”

“So he told the boy.”

“Incredible!”

“I will not quarrel with my lord on that account,” rejoined the broker. “A more generous master than Montezuma never lived. Are not the people always complaining of his liberality? At the last banquet, for inventing a simple drink, did he not give me, his humblest slave, a goblet fit for another king?”

“And what is your drink, though ever so excellent, to the saving his life? Is not that your argument, Chalcan?”

“Yes, my lord, and at such peril! Ah, you should have seen the ocelot when taken from the tank! The keepers told me it was the largest and fiercest in the museum.”

Then Xoli proceeded to edify his noble audience with all the gossip pertaining to the adventure; and as his object was to take into court some friends for the luckless hunter more influential than himself, he succeeded admirably. Every few steps there were such expressions as, “It would be pitiful if so brave a fellow should die!” “If I were king, by the Sun, I would enrich him from the possessions of the Tezcucan!” And as they showed no disposition to interrupt him, his pleading lasted to the house of justice, where the company arrived not any too soon to procure comfortable seats.

The court-house stood at the left of the street, a little retired from the regular line of buildings. The visitors had first to pass through a spacious hall, which brought them to a court-yard cemented under foot, and on all sides bounded with beautiful houses. Then, on the right, they saw the entrance to the chamber of justice, grotesquely called the Tribunal of God,³⁷ in which, for ages, had been administered a code, vindictive, but not without equity. The great door was richly carved; the windows high and broad, and lined with fluted marble; while a projecting cornice, tastefully finished, gave airiness and beauty to the venerable structure.

The party entered the room with profoundest reverence. On a dais sat the judge; in front of him was the stool bearing the skull with the emerald crown and gay plumes. Turning from the plain tapestry along the walls, the spectators failed not to admire the jewels that blazed with almost starry splendor from the centre of the canopy above him.

The broker, not being of the class of privileged nobles, found a seat with difficulty. To his comfort, however, he was placed by the side of an acquaintance.

“You should have come earlier, Chalcan; the judge has twice used the arrow this morning.”

“Indeed!”

“Once against a boy too much given to pulque,—a drunkard. With the other doubtless you were acquainted.”

“Was he noble?”

“He had good blood, at least, being the son of a Tetzmellocan, who died immensely rich. The witnesses said the fellow squandered his father’s estate almost as soon as it came to him.”

“Better had he been born a thief,”³⁸ said Xoli, coolly.

Suddenly, four heralds, with silver maces, entered the court-room, announcing the monarch. The people fell upon their knees, and so remained until he was seated before the dais. Then they arose, and, with staring eyes, devoured the beauty of his costume, and the mysterious sanction of manner, office, power, and custom, which the lovers of royalty throughout the world have delighted to sum up in the one word,—majesty. The hum of voices filled the chamber. Then, by another door, in charge of officers, Hualpa appeared, and was led to the dais opposite the king. Before an Aztecan court there was no ceremony. The highest and the lowliest stood upon a level: such, at least, was the beautiful theory.

So intense was the curiosity to see the prisoner that the spectators pressed upon each other, for the moment mindless of the monarch’s presence.

“A handsome fellow!” said an old cacique, approvingly.

“Only a boy, my lord!” suggested the critic.

“And not fierce-looking, either.”

“Yes—”

“No—”

“He might kill, but in fair fight: so I judge him.”

And that became the opinion amongst the nobles.

“Your friend seems confident, Xoli. I like him,” remarked the Chalcan’s acquaintance.

“Hush! The king accuses.”

“The king, said you!” And the good man, representing the commonalty, was frozen into silence.

In another quarter, one asked, “Does he not wear the ’tzin’s livery?”

The person interrogated covered his mouth with both hands, then drew to the other’s ear, and whispered,—

“Yes, he’s a ’tzin’s man, and that, they say, is his crime.”

The sharp voice of the executive officer of the court rang out, and there was stillness almost breathless. Up rose the clerk, a learned man, keeper of the records, and read the indictment; that done, he laid the portrait of the accused on the table before the judge; then the trial began.

The judge, playing carelessly with the fatal arrow, said,—“Hualpa, son of Tepaja, the Tihuancan, stand up, and answer.”

And the prisoner arose, and saluted court and king, and answered, “It is true, that on the night of the banquet, I fought the Tezcucan; by favor of the gods, I defeated, without slaying him. He is here in person to acquit me.”

“Bring the witness,” said the judge.

Some of the officers retired; during their absence a solemn hush prevailed; directly they returned, carrying a palanquin. Right before the dais they set it down, and drew aside the curtains. Then slowly the Tezcucan came forth,—weak, but unconquered. At the judge he looked, and at the king, and all the fire of his haughty soul burned in the glance. Borrowing strength from his pride, he raised his head high, and said, scornfully,—

“The power of my father’s friend is exceeding great; he speaks, and all things obey him. I am sick and suffering; but he bade me come, and I am here. What new shame awaits me?”

Montezuma answered, never more a king than then: “’Hualpill was wise; his son is foolish; for the memory of the one I spare the other. The keeper of this sacred place will answer why you are brought here. Look that he pardons you lightly as I have.”

Then the judge said, “Prince of Tezcuco, you are here by my order. There stands one charged with your murder. Would you have had him suffer the penalty? You have dared be insolent. See, O prince, that before to-morrow you pay the treasurer ten thousand quills of gold. See to it.” And, returning the portrait to the clerk, he added, “Let the accused go acquit.”

“Ah! said I not so, said I not so?” muttered the Chalcan, rubbing his hands joyfully, and disturbing the attentive people about him.

“Hist, hist!” they said, impatiently. “What more? hearken!”

Hualpa was kneeling before the monarch.

“Most mighty king,” he said, “if what I have done be worthy reward, grant me the discharge of this fine.”

“How!” said Montezuma, amazed. “The Tezcucan is your enemy!”

“Yet he fought me fairly, and is a warrior.”

The eyes of the king sought those of Iztlil’.

“What says the son of ’Hualpilli?”

The latter raised his head with a flash of the old pride. “He is a slave of Guatamozin’s: I scorn the intercession. I am yet a prince of Tezcuco.”

Then the monarch went forward, and sat by the judge. Not a sound was heard, till he spoke.

“Arise, and come near,” he said to Hualpa. “I will do what becomes me.”

His voice was low and tremulous with feeling, and over his face came the peculiar suffusion of sadness afterwards its habitual expression. The hunter kissed the floor at his feet, and remained kneeling. Then he continued,—

“Son of the Tihuancan, I acknowledge I owe my life to you, and I call all to hear the acknowledgment. If the people have thought this prosecution part of my gratitude,—if they have marvelled at my appearing as your accuser, much have they wronged me. I thought of reward higher than they could have asked for you; but I also thought to try you. A slave is not fit to be a chief, nor is every chief fit to be a king. I thought to try you: I am satisfied. When your fame goes abroad, as it will; when the minstrels sing your valor; when Tenochtitlan talks of the merchant’s son, who, in the garden, slew the tiger, and saved the life of Montezuma,—let them also tell how Montezuma rewarded him; let them say I made him noble.”

Thereupon he arose, and transferred the panache from his head to Hualpa’s. Those close by looked at the gift, and saw, for the first time, that it was not the crown, but the crest of a chief or cacique. Then they knew that the trial was merely to make more public the honors designed.

“Let them say further,” he continued, “that with my own hand I made him a warrior of the highest grade.” And, bending over the adventurer, he clasped around his neck the collar of the supreme military order of the realm.³⁹ “Nor is that all. Rank, without competence, is a vexation and shame. At the foot of Chapultepec, on the shore of the lake, lie an estate and a palace of which I have been proud. Let it be said, finally, that I gave them to enrich him and his forever.” He paused, and turned coldly to the Tezcucan. “But as to the son of ’Hualpilli, his fine must stand; such pride must be punished. He shall pay the gold, or forfeit his province.” Then, outstretching toward the audience both his arms, he said, so as to be heard throughout the chamber, “Now, O my children, justice has been done!”

The words were simple; but the manner, royal as a king’s and patriarchal as a pontiff’s, brought every listener to his knees.

“Stand up, my lord Hualpa! Take your place in my train. I will return to the palace.”

With that he passed out.

And soon there was but one person remaining,—Iztlil’, the Tezcucan. Brought from Tlacopan by officers of the court, too weak to walk, without slaves to help him, at sight of the deserted hall his countenance became haggard, the light in his hollow eyes came and went, and his broad breast heaved passionately; in that long, slow look he measured the depth of his fall.

“O Tezcuco, Tezcuco, city of my fathers!” he cried aloud. “This is the last wrong to the last of thy race of kings.”

A little after he was upon a bench exhausted, his head covered by his mantle. Then a hand was laid upon his shoulder; he looked up and saw Hualpa.

“How now! Has the base-born come to enjoy his triumph? I cannot strike. Laugh and revile me; but remember, mine is the blood of kings. The gods loved my father, and will not abandon his son. In their names I curse you!”

“Tezcucan, you are proud to foolishness,” said the hunter, calmly. “I came to serve you. Within an hour I have become master of slaves—”

“And were yourself a slave!”

“Well, I won my freedom; I slew a beast and conquered a—But, prince, my slaves are at the door. Command them to Tlacopan.”

“Play courtier to those who have influence; lean your ambition upon one who can advance it. I am undone.”

“I am not a courtier. The service I offer you springs from a warrior’s motive. I propose it, not to a man of power, but to a prince whose courage is superior to his fortune.”

For a moment the Tezcucan studied the glowing face; then his brows relaxed, and, sighing like a woman, and like a woman overcome by the unexpected gentleness, he bowed his head, and covered his face with his hands, that he might not be accused of tears.

“Let me call the slaves, O prince,” said Hualpa.

Thrice he clapped his hands, whereat four tattooed tamanes stalked into the chamber with a palanquin. Iztlil’ took seat in the carriage, and was being borne away, when he called the hunter.

“A word,” he said, in a voice from which all passion was gone. “Though my enemy, you have been generous, and remembered my misfortunes when all others forsook me. Take with you this mark. I do not ask you to wear it, for the time is nearly come when the son of ’Hualpilli will be proscribed throughout the valley; but keep it in witness that I, the son of a king, acknowledged your right and fitness to be a noble. Farewell.”

Hualpa could not refuse a present so delicately given; extending his hand, he received a bracelet of gold, set with an Aztec diamond of immense value. He clasped it upon his arm, and followed the carriage into the street.

BOOK FOUR

CHAPTER I
THE KING GIVES A TRUST TO HUALPA

And now was come the time of all the year most pleasant,—the time when the maguey was greenest, when the cacti burst into flowers, and in every field women and children, with the strong men, went to pluck the ripened maize. Of the summer, only the wealth and beauty remained. The Goddess of Abundance divided the worship which, at other seasons, was mostly given to Huitzil’ and Tezca’;⁴⁰ in her temples the days were all of prayer, hymning, and priestly ceremony. No other towers sent up such columns of the blue smoke so grateful to the dwellers in the Sun; in no other places were there such incessant burning of censers, presentation of gifts, and sacrifice of victims. Throughout the valley the people carolled those songs the sweetest and most millennial of men,—the songs of harvest, peace, and plenty.

I have before said that Tezcuco, the lake, was the especial pride of the Aztecs. When the sky was clear, and the air tranquil, it was very beautiful; but when the king, with his court, all in state, set out for the hunting-grounds on the northern shore, its beauty rose to splendor. By his invitation great numbers of citizens, in style suited to the honor, joined their canoes to the flotilla composing the retinue. And let it not be forgotten that the Aztec loved his canoe as in Christendom the good knight loves his steed, and decorated it with all he knew of art; that its prow, rising high above the water, and touched by the master sculptors, was dressed in garlands and fantastic symbols; that its light and shapely canopy, elegantly trimmed within, was shaded by curtains, and surmounted by trailing streamers; and that the slaves, four, six, and sometimes twelve in number, dipped and drew their flashing paddles in faultless time, and shone afar brilliant in livery. So, when the multitude of vessels cleared the city walls, and with music and songs dashed into the open lake, the very water seemed to dance and quiver with a sensuous pleasure.

In such style did Montezuma one pleasant morning leave his capital. Calm was the lake, and so clear that the reflection of the sky above seemed a bed of blue below. There were music, and shouts, and merry songs, and from the city the cheers and plaudits of the thousands who, from the walls and housetops, witnessed the pageant. And his canoe was the soul of the pomp, and he had with him his favorite minstrel and jester, and Maxtla; yet there was something on his mind that made him indifferent to the scene and prospective sport. Some distance out, by his direction, the slaves so manœuvred that all the flotilla passed him; then he said to Maxtla, “The will has left me. I will not hunt to-day; yet the pastime must go on; a recall now were unkingly. Look out for a way to follow the train, while I return.”

The chief arose, and swept the lake with a bright glance. “Yonder is a chinampa; I can take its master’s canoe.”

“Do so. Give this ring to the lord Cuitlahua, and tell him to conduct the hunt.”

And soon Maxtla was hurrying to the north with the signet, while the monarch was speeding more swiftly to the south.

“For Iztapalapan,” said the latter to his slaves. “Take me there before the lords reach the hunting-grounds, and you shall have a feast to-night.”

They bent to the paddles, and rested not until he saw the white houses of the city, built far into the lake in imitation of the capital.

“Not to the town, but the palace of Guatamozin,” he then said. “Speed! the sun is rising high.”

Arrived at the landing, Montezuma set forward alone to the palace. The path led into a grove of cedar and wild orange-trees, interspersed with ceibas, the true kings of the forests of New Mexico. The air was sweet with perfume; birds sang to each other from the coverts; the adjacent cascades played their steady, muffled music; and altogether morning on the lake was less beautiful than morning in the tzin’s garden. In the multitude of walks he became bewildered; but, as he was pleased by all he beheld, he walked on without consulting the sun. At length, guided by the sound of voices, he came to the arena for martial games; and there he found Hualpa and Io’ practising with the bow.

He had been wont to regard Io’ as a child, unripe for any but childish amusements, and hardly to be trusted alone. Absorbed in his business of governing, he had not observed how increase of years brought the boy strength, stature, and corresponding tastes. Now he was admonished of his neglect: the stripling should have been familiarized with bow, sling, and maquahuitl; men ought to have been given him for comrades; the warrior’s school, even the actual field, had been better for him than the nursery. An idea of ambition also occurred to the monarch. When he himself was gathered to his fathers, who was to succeed him on the throne? Cuitlahua, Cacama, the lord of Tlacopan? Why not Io’?

Meanwhile the two diligently pursued their sport. At the moment the king came upon them, Hualpa was giving some directions as to the mode of holding the brave weapon. The boy listened eagerly,—a sign that pleased the observer, for nothing is so easy as to flatter the hope of a dreamy heart. Observing them further, he saw Io’ take the stand, draw the arrow quite to the head, and strike the target. At the second trial, he pierced the centre. Hualpa embraced the scholar joyously; and thereupon the king warmed toward the warrior, and tears blinded his eyes. Advancing into the arena, the clanging of his golden sandals announced his presence.

And they knelt and kissed the earth.

“Stand up!” he said, with the smile which gave his countenance a womanly beauty. And to Hualpa he added, “I thought your palace by Chapultepec would be more attractive than the practice of arms; more credit should have been given the habits of a hunter. I was right to make you noble. But what can you make of Io’?”

“If you will give the time, O king, I can make him of excellent skill.”

“And what says the son of Tecalco?”

Io’ knelt again, saying, “I have a pardon to ask—”

“A pardon! For wishing to be a warrior?”

“If the king will hear me,—I have heard you say that in your youth you divided your days between the camp and the temples, learning at the same time the duties of the priest and the warrior. That I may be able some day to serve you, O king, I have stolen away from Tenochtitlan—”

Montezuma laid his hand tenderly on the boy’s head, and said, “No more. I know all you would say, and will ask the great Huitzil’ to give you strength and courage. Take my permission to be a warrior. Arise, now, and give me the bow. It is long since I pulled the cord, and my hand may have weakened, and my eyes become dim; but I challenge you both! I have a shield wrought of pearl and gold, unfit for the field, yet beautiful as a prize of skill. Who plants an arrow nearest yon target’s heart, his the shield shall be.”

The challenge was accepted, and after preparation, the monarch dropped his mantle, and took the stand. He drew the shaft to his ear with a careless show of skill; and when it quivered in the target about a palm’s breadth below the mark, he said, laughing, “I am at least within the line of the good bowman. A Tlascalan would not have escaped scarless.”

Io’ next took the bow, and was so fortunate as to hit the lower edge of the heart squarely above the king’s bolt.

“Mine is the shield, mine is the shield!” he cried, exultantly. “O that a minstrel were here! I would have a song,—my first song!”

“Very proud!” said the king, good-humoredly. “Know you, boy, the warrior counts his captives only when the battle is ended. Here, lord Hualpa, the boaster should be beaten. Prove your quality. To you there may be more in this trial than a song or a golden shield.”

The hunter took the vacant place; his arrow whistled away, and the report came back from the target. By a happy accident, if such it were, the copper point was planted exactly in the middle of the space between the other two.

More joyous than before arose the cry of Io’, “I have beaten a king and a warrior! Mine is the shield, mine is the shield!”

And the king, listening, said to himself, “I remember my own youth, and its earliest victory, and how I passed from successes at first the most trifling. Ah! who but Huitzil’, father of all the gods, can tell the end? Blessed the day when I can set before him the prospect of a throne instead of a shield!”

The target was brought him, and he measured the distance of each arrow from the centre; and when he saw how exactly Hualpa’s was planted between the others, his subtile mind detected the purpose and the generosity.

“The victory is yours, O my son, and so is the shield,” he said, slowly and thoughtfully. “But ah! were it given you to look with eyes like mine,—with eyes sharpened by age for the discovery of blessings, your rejoicing would be over a friend found, whose love is proof against vanity and the hope of reward.”

Hualpa understood him, and was proud. What was the prize lost to Montezuma gained?

“It grows late; my time is sacred,” said the king. “Lord Hualpa, stay and guide me to the palace. And Io’, be you my courier to the ’tzin. Go before, and tell him I am coming.”

The boy ran ahead, and as they leisurely followed him, the monarch relapsed into melancholy. In the shade of a ceiba tree he stopped, and said, “There is a service you might do me, that lies nearer my heart than any other.”

“The will of the great king is mine,” Hualpa replied, with a low reverence.

“When I am old,” pursued Montezuma, “when the things of earth begin to recede from me, it would be pleasant to have a son worthy to lift the Empire from my shoulders. While I am going up the steps of the temple, a seeker of the holy peace that lies in worship and prayer, the government would not then be a care to disturb me. But I am sensible that no one could thus relieve me unless he had the strong hand of a warrior, and was fearless except of the gods. Io’ is my only hope. From you he first caught the desire of greatness, and you can make him great. Take him as a comrade; love him as a brother; teach him the elements of war,—to wield spear and maquahuitl; to bear shield, to command, and to be brave and generous. Show him the ways of ambition. Above all,”—as he spoke he raised his head and hand, and looked the impersonation of his idea,—“above all, let him know that a king may find his glory as much in the love of his people as in his power. Am I understood?”

Hualpa did not look up, but said, “Am I worthy? I have the skill of hand; but have I the learning?”

“To make him learned belongs to the priests. I only asked you to make him a warrior.”

“Does not that belong to the gods?”

“No: he derives nothing from them but the soul. They will not teach him to launch the arrow.”

“Then I accept the charge. Shall he go with me?”

“Always,—even to battle.”

O mighty king! was the shadow of the coming fate upon thy spirit then?