Kitabı oku: «The White Conquerors: A Tale of Toltec and Aztec», sayfa 11
CHAPTER XXIII.
IN THE PASSAGES BENEATH THE TEMPLE
Although Huetzin felt certain that some secret door or panel must offer a passage through the wall, against which he had run with such rude force, he realized, from past experience, the folly of attempting to discover it. Therefore, when he had somewhat recovered from the shock just received, he slowly and carefully retraced his way along the passage, in search of some other opening leading from it.
In the meantime the chief priest, who had discovered no sign of the fugitive since the door at the foot of the stairway was flung to in his face, had hastened on out of the underground labyrinth. He posted guards at all its exits, with the information that an escaped prisoner, who must be seized the moment he showed himself, was wandering about in it, and ordered a victim, selected at random from the temple cages, to be killed and his heart torn out. With this in his hand Topil made his way, undiscovered, to the private apartments of the king, reaching them just in time to anticipate the return of the monarch from the temple.
Feeling well satisfied with this portion of his morning's work, and being also convinced that the prisoner, who had twice eluded him, was still within his reach, the chief priest, after leaving the palace, made several calls on powerful nobles well know as being opposed to the king's present method of treating the invaders of Anahuac. These he invited to attend a secret meeting, to be held that very day, in a place well known to all of them, and in every case the invitation was gladly accepted.
While the priest was thus engaged Huetzin was wandering hopelessly through the black mazes of the underground passages, stairways, rooms, and hidden doorways, that he had entered so easily, but from which he now found it so impossible to escape. Some of the passages that he followed ended, as the first had done, with blank walls, while others led into chambers of greater or less size, as he discovered by groping his way around them. He was faint, weary, and aching in every joint, tortured by the pangs of hunger and a burning thirst. Above all, it seemed to the young Toltec that he must be going mad, as the horrors of his situation crowded thick and fast upon him. In spite of his dread of being recaptured by the priests, he shouted at the top of his voice, and the underground echoes jeered at him with hollow mockery.
Finally he found himself in a hall or chamber that seemed much larger than any he had yet entered, and here he managed to lose touch of the rough wall, along which he had felt his way until the ends of his fingers were worn to the quick. As he moved forward with uncertain steps, seeking to regain it, he stumbled against some large object, fell, and rolled partly under it. So far as he could tell by the feeling, it was a stone altar or table, covered with a heavy tapestry that hung in folds to the floor on all sides.
It was pleasant to encounter something besides cold stone, and instead of rising at once Huetzin lay still, passing his hands mechanically over the soft cloth. His thoughts became hazy and he seemed to be drifting into space. How much better it was to lie there than to wander aimlessly through those interminable passages as he had been doing for days – or weeks – which was it? He tried to remember, but could not. At any rate it was a long time, long enough for one to be dead, buried, and forgotten in. Perhaps he was dead! Yes, there came the white-robed torch-bearing priests who were to bury him. How perplexed they would be if he should hide his body so that the ceremony could not proceed. Of course he would give himself up after a while. Smiling to himself at the thought of this trick, Huetzin rolled still farther under the stone table, until he was completely hidden by its drapery. He lay very still, and must have fallen into a doze. At least he was not conscious of what was taking place about him until he was suddenly aroused by the word "Malinche."
Malinche was the native name for Cortes, and some one was saying, "Malinche must then be slain as he visits the king on the morrow. It is so decided. After his death the destruction of his army will be an easy matter, and Huitzil's altars shall not want for victims. As for the vile Tlascalans, they will serve to feed the altars of the lesser gods for many days of rejoicing."
No longer was Huetzin dozing, nor were his thoughts vague and uncertain. He was, of a sudden, as wide awake as ever in his life, and as clear-headed. Hunger, thirst, terror, and pain were all forgotten. He was listening to the details of a plot for the destruction of his friends and followers, and for the establishment on a firmer basis than ever of the cruel Aztec religion and its blood-stained priesthood. He dared not move, nor even to peep from behind his sheltering curtain to discover who these conspirators were. He hardly dared to breathe, and wished he could silence the beatings of his heart that seemed to him distinct above all other sounds.
From a faint glow that came through the tapestry he knew that the chamber was lighted by torches, and from the sound of footsteps on the stone floor he judged that a number of persons were implicated in the conspiracy. At length the glow began to fade and the footsteps to retreat. The meeting had broken up and its members were departing. Venturing to peer out Huetzin saw the last torch on the point of vanishing in the distant blackness, and springing to his feet he ran noiselessly after it.
He was thus guided along a narrow passage similar to those in which he had wandered so miserably, and around several corners. All at once he saw a torch coming directly toward him. A priest had been sent back for some mislaid article. The young Toltec crouched close beside the wall. The priest did not discover him until he was within a few paces of the crouching figure. Then, as he peered uncertainly at it, Huetzin launched himself forward with a spring like that of an ocelot. In an instant the priest was borne to the ground, while the torch, flung far from him, flickered and expired. He attempted to cry out, but a fierce clutch at his throat changed his cry into a choked gurgle. His struggles were futile in the iron grasp of this monster of the darkness, and within a minute he was bound hand, foot, and mouth with strips torn from his own robes.
Leaving him thus, Huetzin sped noiselessly and swiftly away in the direction taken by the others. He was so fortunate as to again see their lights as the last one was passing through a doorway leading to a flight of steps. He heard a voice say, "Let it remain open for Amatli," and was content to wait until all had ascended the stairway and disappeared.
Then the young Toltec crept cautiously up the stone steps, which were disclosed by a subdued but blessed daylight. From their top he could see a door opening on to a street. Between him and it were two armed guards engaged in earnest conversation. Their backs were turned to him, and stealing breathlessly to where they stood, he bounded past them to the doorway. They were after him in an instant, with loud cries, but he had already gained the street. He knew not where he was, and ran blindly, though with the fleetness of a deer, while an ever-increasing mob of soldiers, priests, and citizens followed in hot pursuit. Had he not caught sight of the great temple he must have fallen an easy prey to this army of pursuers. Even with the hope inspired by this familiar landmark his strength would have failed to take him to the shelter of the Spanish wall, had it not been for the opportune appearance of Sandoval with his flashing sword and gallant war-cry.
Once inside the gate, and realizing that he was again safe from his fierce pursuers, the unnatural strength that had sustained him so long gave way, and Huetzin staggered as though about to fall. Numbers of Spaniards and Tlascalans sprang to his assistance, but Sandoval was the first to reach him, and lifting the youth in his mighty arms as though he had been an infant, he bore him to his own quarters. Here, under the rough but skilful ministrations of the young soldier, Huetzin revived sufficiently to beg for water and food, neither of which he had tasted for many hours. These being brought, he ate and drank until, fearful that he would do himself harm, Sandoval took them from him.
Greatly refreshed and strengthened, Huetzin now asked for Marina, and when the girl appeared, full of wondering pity at the evidences he bore of his recent experiences, he requested her to obtain for him an instant interview with the commander concerning a matter of vital import. Cortes had just learned of the reappearance in the flesh of one whom the king had, but an hour before, declared dead, and was coming to investigate the miraculous resurrection when Marina met him with Huetzin's request.
The young chieftain had expected to go to the General, and was covered with confusion when the latter came to where he was, as though he had sent for him. He would have risen, but the commander insisted that, by his sufferings, he had won the right to lie still. So, seating himself beside the pile of mats that formed Sandoval's couch, and on which Huetzin now lay, Cortes listened with the gravest attention to an account of all that had happened to the young warrior since the preceding evening. When the latter came to a description of the underground meeting of conspirators, the leader's face grew very stern, and at the conclusion of the recital he exclaimed:
"Thou hast done well, my young lord of Titcala, and even thy recent sufferings are amply rewarded by the news obtained through them. Thus forewarned I am of the opinion that we shall find some means for checkmating these burrowing water-rats. How say you, Don Gonzalo?"
"If not, then shall we well deserve the fate they plot for us," answered Sandoval, to whom this question was addressed.
"Art sure that thou hast a heart still beating in thy breast?" suddenly demanded the General of Huetzin. "I was told, not long since, that a god had torn it from thy bosom, also that a fair lady of the king's court was expressing anxiety concerning thee."
"My heart is still in my own keeping, in spite of gods and fair ladies," replied Huetzin, though with Marina's blush reflected on his own face; "neither do I know any lady of Montezuma's court, unless indeed it be my sister Tiata, who is but a child, and is, I fear, no longer to be found in any earthly court or city."
CHAPTER XXIV.
MONTEZUMA IS MADE PRISONER
That night Cortes convened a council of his captains, whom he told of the plot to kill him. He proposed to defeat this by being first in the field and making a prisoner of Montezuma himself. As an excuse for so high-handed a proceeding, he would bring up an affair, of which he had learned while at Cholula, but had deemed best to keep to himself until now. It was nothing less than an attack on the Spanish garrison at Vera Cruz, by an Aztec cacique named Quapoca, who claimed to have acted by direct orders from the king. In this engagement, though the Indians were ultimately defeated, the Spaniards, including Juan Escalante, the commandant, had been killed.
Armed with this excuse, Cortes, having requested and been granted an audience with the king, set forth for the palace at an early hour on the following morning. He was accompanied by Sandoval, Alvarado, and three other cavaliers in full armor. One of these was Huetzin, clad in armor provided for the occasion, and differing in no point, that the eye could detect, from a Spaniard. It was arranged that after Cortes and his companions were admitted to the king, other Spaniards, to the number of a score or so, should stroll into the palace, a few at a time, and remain within supporting distance in case of need. The rest of the troops, with the exception of a strong patrol on the avenue leading to the palace, were drawn up, under arms, in the courtyard of their quarters.
Montezuma received his guests with the utmost composure, and, through Marina's interpretation, chatted pleasantly with them for half an hour. At the end of that time Cortes, perceiving that a sufficient number of his men had assembled just outside the audience chamber, demanded of the king why he had ordered an attack to be made on Vera Cruz.
Although startled by the suddenness of the accusation, the king denied that he had done so.
Cortes professed himself willing to believe this, but requested that the cacique who had led the attacking force be sent for, that he might be examined.
To this Montezuma consented, and handed his signet to an officer, with the brief command that Quapoca be brought to Tenochtitlan.
After the officer had departed the Spanish commander proposed that, in order to prove his sincerity and place himself beyond suspicion of such an act of treachery against his Spanish friends, the king should transfer his residence to the palace occupied by them and remain as their guest until all questions in connection with this unfortunate affair should be settled.
As he listened to this proposal Montezuma turned deadly pale, and then his face flushed with indignation. "Do you dare doubt my word? The word of a king!" he demanded.
"Did not your majesty inform me of the death of my chief of Tlascalans but yesterday?" asked Cortes.
"If I did, it is because he is dead! A king cannot lie!" was the passionate answer.
"But he may be mistaken, and if so in one case, possibly in another," replied Cortes. At the same time he beckoned to Huetzin to step forward and unbonnet.
The young man did so, and as the king gazed on his well-remembered features it seemed for a moment as though he would fall in a fit, so terrified and horror-stricken was his expression. For a minute he could not command his voice, then, in a low tone, he said:
"The victory is thine, Malinche! So long as this son of Tlahuicol lives, the anger of the gods will not be averted from me or my kingdom. I will go with you."
Cortes immediately issued orders for the royal litter to be brought, and as the nobles who bore it hesitated to obey the stranger, the king assured them that it was his pleasure to visit his white friends. As the royal train, under a strong Spanish escort, passed through the street, its nobles walking with bowed heads and sad faces, the news spread like wildfire that the king had been taken prisoner, and was being carried off by force. On every side armed men seemed to spring from the ground. Ere they were half-way to their own place, the Christians were confronted by such a furious mass of humanity that, but for the intervention of Montezuma himself, they would have been forced to fight against desperate odds. Actuated either by superstitious cowardice or policy, the king assured his tumultuous subjects that he was going, of his own free will, to visit his friends, and ordered them to retire peaceably to their homes.
Thus, without a drop of bloodshed, was the powerful but superstitious monarch of the great Aztec nation taken prisoner by a handful of determined white men, and kept under their guard for months in the very heart of his own capital. It seems incredible that such could have been the case, but all historians vouch for its truth.
Montezuma was allowed spacious quarters and every semblance of royal authority, but was never again given his liberty. Quapoca came, was tried, condemned, and executed by the Spaniards, but their greater prisoner was not released. His subjects were granted daily audience with him, but they were only admitted a few at a time, and must pass the scrutiny of a strong Spanish guard always maintained in the royal antechamber.
This new order of things was hardly established before Sandoval began making inquiries as to the name, rank, and nationality of the beautiful girl with whom he had held so delightful, and, at the same time, so unsatisfactory an interview in the royal gardens. To his dismay he could learn nothing. No one to whom he applied could tell him aught concerning her, and she seemed to have disappeared as absolutely as though translated to another sphere. Even the page who had conducted him to her was not to be found. Sandoval enlisted the services of both Marina and Huetzin in the search, but they were equally unsuccessful with himself.
The young Toltec had, by this time, acquired so fair a knowledge of Spanish that he was able, after a fashion, to converse with his friend without the aid of an interpreter. Taking advantage of this, Sandoval would talk with him for hours concerning the object of his incessant thoughts. He declared his willingness to resign all the treasure he had acquired since coming to Mexico, if, by so doing, he could gain another interview with the maiden. This was no mean sum, for, in one way and another, the Spaniards had collected some six and a half millions of dollars in gold alone, to say nothing of an immense quantity of silver, jewels, and costly fabrics.
With all his wealth and bravery, poor Sandoval could discover no means of accomplishing the desire of his heart, and so sank into such a state of melancholy as to attract the attention and arouse the anxiety of Cortes himself. This acute observer, believing hard work to be the best lightener of a heavy heart, and being in want of a trusty governor for the important post of Vera Cruz, forthwith appointed the unhappy young soldier to the position, and despatched him to his new sphere of action.
By this time the entire Aztec kingdom seemed truly to have passed under the dominion of the white conquerors, and that almost without a struggle. Not only did Cortes levy tribute and dispense justice in the name of the king, but he compelled Montezuma to publicly announce himself a vassal of Spain. Although the Aztec priesthood and religion were not yet overthrown, the Spaniards had erected a cross on the summit of the great temple, and here their worship was conducted by the side of that of the Aztec gods. Two brigantines, or small sailing vessels, were built and armed, for the command of the Tezcucan lake, and in no direction was the power of the Spaniards disputed. Several incipient rebellions had been so promptly reported to the Conqueror, though in so mysterious a manner that he could not trace his information to its source, that he was enabled to crush them before they came to a head. In the name of the king, who was but a passive tool in his hands, he arrested and held captive several reputed leaders of these rebellions, and among them Cacama, Prince of Tezcuco.
Some months were passed thus peacefully, and Huetzin, tired of inactivity, as well as hopeless of discovering the fate of Tiata, whom he mourned as dead, was about to apply for permission to return to Tlascala, when one day there came a letter from Sandoval that changed the whole current of events. It contained the intelligence that a Spanish hidalgo, named Narvaez, in command of a fleet of eighteen vessels, and an army of a thousand men, well supplied with horses, artillery, muskets, and ammunition, had landed on the coast. This new-comer claimed to have authority from the Governor-General of the New World to supersede Cortes, and assume supreme control of the great kingdom he had conquered. By virtue of this authority he had summoned Sandoval to surrender Vera Cruz, and announced his intention of immediately marching on Cortes in Tenochtitlan. Upon this Sandoval had placed his little garrison in the best possible state of defence, answered Narvaez that he would surrender when he had orders from his commander to do so, but not before, and now awaited instructions.
In this grave emergency the white conqueror did not hesitate a moment to consider his course of action. Taking with him two hundred troops, he set out at once for the coast, where he proposed to at least test the strength of the new-comer before submitting to his authority. He left Alvarado, the "Tonatiah" of the Aztecs, behind in command of the city; with him were also left one hundred and forty Spaniards, Huetzin with his Tlascalans, and all the artillery.
As Cortes and his little army marched out of the city, Montezuma, in the royal litter, accompanied him as far as the great causeway. There, on the spot where they had first met, these two parted, with every mark of mutual esteem.
