The Fair God; or, The Last of the 'Tzins

“Content you, content you; your blush would not be for shame.”

There was a pause, which the king gave to his pipe. Suddenly he said, “There have been tongues busy with your fame, my son. I have heard you were greatly dissatisfied because I gave your father’s city to your elder brother. But I consider that men are never without detractors, and I cannot forget that you have perilled your life for the gods. Actions I accept as the proofs of will. If the favor that brought you here be reasonable, it is yours for the asking. I have the wish to serve you.”

“I am not surprised that I have enemies,” said Iztlil’, calmly. “I will abuse no one on that account; for I am an enemy, and can forgive in others what I deem virtue in myself. But it moves me greatly, O king, that my enemies should steal into your palace, and, in my absence, wrong me in your opinion. But pardon me; I did not come to defend myself—”

“You have taken my words in an evil sense,” interposed the king, with an impatient gesture.

“Or to conceal the truth,” the Tezcucan continued. “There is kingly blood in me, and I dare speak as my father’s son. So if they said merely that I was dissatisfied with your judgment, they said truly.”

Montezuma frowned.

“I intend my words to be respectful, most mighty king. A common wisdom teaches us to respect the brave man and dread the coward. And there is not in your garden a flower as beautiful, nor in your power a privilege as precious, as free speech; and it would sound ill of one so great and secure as my father’s friend if he permitted in the streets and in the farmer’s hut what he forbade in his palace. I spoke of dissatisfaction; but think not it was because you gave Tezcuco to my brother, and to me the bare hills that have scarcely herbage enough for a wolf-covert. I am less a prince than a warrior; all places are alike to me; the earth affords me royal slumber, while no jewelled canopy is equal to the starred heavens; and as there is a weakness in pleasant memories, I have none. To such as I am, O king, what matters a barren hill or a proud palace? I murmured, nay, I did more, because, in judging my quarrel, you overthrew the independence of my country. When my father visited you from across the lake, he was not accustomed to stand before you, or hide his kingly robes beneath a slave’s garb.”

Montezuma half started from his seat. “Holy gods! Is rebellion so bold?”

“I meant no disrespect, great king. I only sought to justify myself, and in your royal presence say what I have thought while fighting under your banner. But, without more abuse of your patience, I will to my purpose, especially as I came for peace and friendship.”

“The son of my friend forgets that I have ways to make peace without treating for it,” said the king.

The Tezcucan smothered an angry reply.

“By service done, I have shown a disposition to serve you, O king. Very soon every warrior will be needed. A throne may be laid amid hymns and priestly prayers, yet have no strength; to endure, it must rest upon the allegiance of love. Though I have spoken unpleasant words, I came to ask that, by a simple boon, you give me cause to love. I have reflected that I, too, am of royal blood, and, as the son of a king, may lead your armies, and look for alliance in your house. By marriage, O king, I desire, come good or evil, to link my fortune to yours.”

Montezuma’s countenance was stolid; no eye could have detected upon it so much as surprise. He quietly asked, “Which of my daughters has found favor in your eyes?”

“They are all beautiful, but only one of them is fitted for a warrior’s wife.”

“Tula?”

Iztlil’ bowed.

“She is dear to me,” said the king, softly, “dearer than a city; she is holy as a temple, and lovelier than the morning; her voice is sweet as the summer wind, and her presence as the summer itself. Have you spoken to her of this thing?”

“I love her, so that her love is nothing to me. Her feelings are her own, but she is yours; and you are more powerful to give than she to withhold.”

“Well, well,” said the monarch, after a little thought; “in my realm there are none of better quality than the children of ’Hualpilli,—none from whom such demand is as proper. Yet it is worthy deliberation. It is true, I have the power to bestow, but there are others who have the right to be consulted. I study the happiness of my people, and it were unnatural if I cared less for that of my children. So leave me now, but take with you, brave prince, the assurance that I am friendly to your suit. The gods go with you!”

And Iztlil’, after a low obeisance, withdrew; and then the overture was fully discussed. Montezuma spoke freely, welcoming the opportunity of securing the bold, free-spoken cacique, and seeing in the demand only a question of policy. As might be expected, the ancients made no opposition; they could see no danger in the alliance, and had no care for the parties. It was policy.

CHAPTER III

THE BANISHMENT OF GUATAMOZIN

The palace of Montezuma was regarded as of very great sanctity, so that his household, its economy, and the exact relation its members bore to each other were mysteries to the public. From the best information, however, it would seem that he had two lawful and acknowledged wives, the queens Tecalco and Acatlan,[31 - These are the proper names of the queens. MSS of Muñoz. Also, note to Prescott, Conq. of Mexico, Vol. II., p. 351.] who, with their families, occupied spacious apartments secure from intrusion. They were good-looking, middle-aged women, whom the monarch honored with the highest respect and confidence. By the first one, he had a son and daughter; by the second, two daughters.

“Help me, Acatlan! I appeal to your friendship, to the love you bear your children,—help me in my trouble.” So the queen Tecalco prayed the queen Acatlan in the palace the morning after the audience given the Tezcucan by the king.

The two were sitting in a room furnished with some taste. Through the great windows, shaded by purple curtains, streamed the fresh breath of the early day. There were female slaves around them in waiting; while a boy nearly grown, at the eastern end of the apartment, was pitching the golden balls in totoloque. This was prince Io’, the brother of Tula, and son of Tecalco.

“What is the trouble? What can I do?” asked Acatlan.

“Listen to me,” said Tecalco. “The king has just gone. He came in better mood than usual, and talked pleasantly. Something had happened; some point of policy had been gained. Nowadays, you know, he talks and thinks of nothing but policy; formerly it was all of war. We cannot deny, Acatlan, that he is much changed. Well, he played a game with Io’, then sat down, saying he had news which he thought would please me. You will hardly believe it, but he said that Iztlil’, the proud Tezcucan, asked Tula in marriage last night. Think of it! Tula, my blossom, my soul! and to that vile cacique!”

“Well, he is brave, and the son of ’Hualpilli,” said Acatlan.

“What! You!” said Tecalco, despairingly. “Do you, too, turn against me? I do not like him, and would not if he were the son of a god. Tula hates him!”

“I will not turn against you, Tecalco. Be calmer, and tell me what more the king said.”

“I told him I was surprised, but not glad to hear the news. He frowned, and paced the floor, now here, now there. I was frightened, but could bear his anger better than the idea of my Tula, so good, so beautiful, the wife of the base Tezcucan. He said the marriage must go on; it was required by policy, and would help quiet the Empire, which was never so threatened. You will hardly believe I ventured to tell him that it should not be, as Tula was already contracted to Guatamozin. I supposed that announcement would quiet the matter, but it only enraged him; he spoke bitterly of the ’tzin. I could scarcely believe my ears. He used to love him. What has happened to change his feeling?”

Acatlan thrummed her pretty mouth with her fingers, and thought awhile.

“Yes, I have heard some stories about the ’tzin—”

“Indeed!” said Tecalco, opening her eyes.

“He too has changed, as you may have observed,” continued Acatlan. “He used to be gay and talkative, fond of company, and dance; latterly, he stays at home, and when abroad, mopes, and is silent; while we all know that no great private or public misfortune has happened him. The king appears to have noticed it. And, my dear sister,”—the queen lowered her voice to a confidential whisper,—“they say the ’tzin aspires to the throne.”

“What! Do you believe it? Does the king?” cried Tecalco, more in anger than surprise.

“I believe nothing yet, though there are some grounds for his accusers to go upon. They say he entertains at his palace near Iztapalapan none but men of the army, and that while in Tenochtitlan, he studies the favor of the people, and uses his wealth to win popularity with all classes. Indeed, Tecalco, somehow the king learned that, on the day of the celebration of Quetzal’, the ’tzin was engaged in a direct conspiracy against him.”

“It is false, Acatlan, it is false! The king has not a more faithful subject. I know the ’tzin. He is worth a thousand of the Tezcucan, who is himself the traitor.” And the vexed queen beat the floor with her sandalled foot.

“As to that, Tecalco, I know nothing. But what more from the king?”

“He told me that Tula should never marry the ’tzin; he would use all his power against it; he would banish him from the city first. And his rage increased until, finally, he swore by the gods he would order a banquet, and, in presence of all the lords of the Empire, publicly betroth Tula and the Tezcucan. He said he would do anything the safety of the throne and the gods required of him. He never was so angry. And that, O Acatlan, my sister, that is my trouble. How can I save my child from such a horrid betrothal?”

Acatlan shook her head gloomily. “The king brooks defeat better than opposition. We would not be safe to do anything openly. I acknowledge myself afraid, and unable to advise you.”

Tecalco burst into tears, and wrung her hands, overcome by fear and rage. Io’ then left his game, and came to her. He was not handsome, being too large for his years, and ungraceful; this tendency to homeliness was increased by the smallness of his face and head; the features were actually childish.

“Say no more, mother,” he said, tears standing in his eyes, as if to prove his sympathy and kindliness. “You know it would be better to play with the tigers than stir the king to anger.”

“Ah, Io’, what shall I do? I always heard you speak well of the ’tzin. You loved him once.”

“And I love him yet.”

Tecalco was less pacified than ever.

“What would I not give to know who set the king so against him! Upon the traitor be the harm there is in a mother’s curse! If my child must be sacrificed, let it be by a priest, and as a victim to the gods.”

“Do not speak so. Be wise, Tecalco. Recollect such sorrows belong to our rank.”

“Our rank, Acatlan! I can forget it sooner than that I am a mother! O, you do not know how long I have nursed the idea of wedding Tula to the ’tzin! Since their childhood I have prayed, plotted, and hoped for it. With what pride I have seen them grow up,—he so brave, generous, and princely, she so staid and beautiful! I have never allowed her to think of other destiny: the gods made them for each other.”

“Mother,” said Io’, thoughtfully, “I have heard you say that Guatamozin was wise. Why not send him word of what has happened, and put our trust in him?”