The White Conquerors: A Tale of Toltec and Aztec

"Save me, Huetzin! Save me, son of Tlahuicol!" it cried, shrilly. Then, in softer tones, "Steady, Cocotin! Dear Cocotin! Good Cocotin! If thou wouldst but turn thy poor bleeding head the other way! Oh! Holy Mother of the Christians! She is sinking! She is dying, and I am lost!"

Then a dark form struggled out of the blackness beside them; both the old man and the old woman reached out toward it; and in another minute Marina lay, hysterically sobbing, in the bottom of the canoe.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

SORROW TURNED INTO JOY, AND DARKNESS INTO LIGHT

The first impulse of Marina's preservers was to escape as quickly as possible from their awful surroundings. The spell that had held them in that vicinity was broken. They had snatched one victim from the jaws of death, and now they must remove her beyond reach of further danger. Instinctively they headed their canoe in the direction of the little hut, on the opposite side of the lake, that had for so long been their home. They had not gone far when, as though moved by a single impulse, both stopped paddling at the same instant.

"It is no longer possible that we should go back," said the old man.

"For we should be taking another into slavery," continued the old woman.

"Nor would we return to slavery for ourselves, even if there were no other."

"It is certain that we would not," agreed the wife.

"But whither shall we fly?" asked the old man, irresolutely.

"Ask the child; since she called on the son of Tlahuicol for aid she must be of our friends, and also she must be possessed of wisdom."

Marina, who had ceased to sob, and now lay quietly beneath the warm rabbit-hair blanket that the old woman had spread over her, listened to this conversation. Who could these people be? They did not talk like enemies bearing her to the altar of sacrifice. At any rate, a question could do no harm.

"Whither are you taking me?" she asked.

"Whither you would go," replied the gentle voice of the old woman.

"I would go to my friends. To Huetzin, and Sandoval, and Malinche, and the daughters of the king, who are captives."

"Where are they?"

"I know not, but I fear me they are dead. Who are you? You are not Aztecs."

"We are Tlascalans, and friends of the son of Tlahuicol, whom we seek," was the proud answer.

"I thought you were Tlascalans from your speech!" cried the girl, joyfully. "As such you must be my friends, and as friends of Huetzin you must be doubly my friends."

"Is he thy brother?" queried the old man, remembering that Huetzin had spoken of a sister.

"No."

"Thy husband?"

"No."

"What then – ?"

"Hush, thou stupid!" exclaimed the old woman, "and waste not time in idle questionings. We be escaped Tlascalan slaves," she continued, speaking to Marina, "seeking the son of Tlahuicol, who has some knowledge of us, and who we trusted would aid us to freedom. Now we know not which way to turn, and would ask thy counsel."

"Will you in truth do as I advise?" asked Marina, who could scarcely credit her good fortune in falling into such friendly hands.

"In truth we will."

"Then," said the Indian girl. "I would advise that you seek no land before daybreak, but avoid all canoes. With daylight, if the fight be over, as ere then it must be, make thy way to Tlacopan, where we are almost certain to discover our friends – thy friends and my friends."

This advice was considered so sensible that it was acted upon, and the canoe lay motionless. After they had sat awhile in silence, listening to the distant din of battle, the old woman asked: "Were you not talking to some person, whom you called by name, just before we found you?"

"Yes," replied Marina, sadly. "I was speaking to poor, brave Cocotin, but she was not a person. She was a horse belonging to the son of Tlahuicol, and deeply will he grieve at her loss."

As these simple folk had never before heard of a horse, Marina found much difficulty in explaining its nature to them. When they finally comprehended, after a fashion, they returned to the name, Cocotin.

"It was the name of our little one," explained the old woman.

"Was she a babe but a year old, and left behind when you both were captured by the Aztecs?" inquired the Indian girl, with interest.

"Yes. But how knew you that?"

"Huetzin has told me of it, and his horse was named for that child; and you must be the brave Tlascalans who assisted his escape from the priests of Tenochtitlan!"

"That honor and joy were indeed ours," answered the old man; "but our part in his escape was so slight that he might readily have forgotten it."

"Indeed he has not!" cried Marina, "and his joy will be great when he again sets eyes on you, for his gratitude to you is like the love of an own son."

All this time Marina had not the least doubt of her hero's safety, for it did not occur to her that serious harm could come to one who had escaped so often, and was so brave and skilful a warrior. Therefore, while he mourned her as dead, she was looking forward with confidence to the joyful meeting that would take place as soon as daylight permitted. Nor could she realize in the slightest what a terrible disaster had overtaken the army of the white conquerors. She had never known it as aught but victorious, and its defeat was something she did not for a moment consider possible. Thus, instead of being a prey to the feverish anxiety that would have absorbed every thought had she known the true state of affairs on the causeway, she entertained her new friends with an account of her own life up to that moment. Her auditors listened with eager interest, though saying but little in return. After awhile the girl also grew silent, and then fell asleep wrapped in her rabbit-fur blanket.

The old people were careful not to disturb her, and only occasionally moved their light craft when other canoes threatened to approach so close that there was danger of being discovered. This, however, happened infrequently, so great was the attraction at the causeway. Once the old woman said, musingly:

"Our own Cocotin would have been about her age."

"And by birth she is Tlascalan," replied the man, which showed that their thoughts tended in the same direction.

At length the night passed, and daylight came. By it they earnestly studied the features of the sleeping girl.

"She is the image of what thou wast when first I knew thee!" exclaimed the old man, in trembling tones.

"We will question her more closely when she wakes," answered the other, calmly, but with an intense longing in her voice. "Now let us to Tlacopan; the way looks open."

So they made for the town, and, as the canoe grated on the beach, the girl awoke. She was at first bewildered by her surroundings, but reassured by the kindly words of the old people, quickly recovered her usual presence of mind, and exclaimed, with decision, "Now must we find our friends!"

The old man gathered up their scanty property, and they entered one of the deserted streets. Most of the inhabitants had been drawn to Tenochtitlan. Stopping at a humble hut to ask for food and information, they found it empty. Entering without further ceremony, they found food, of which they did not hesitate to partake, and a fire by which the girl's wet clothing could be dried. Leaving the two women here, the old man went out to seek for information.

He was gone the best part of an hour, and when he returned his wife greeted him with tearful but joyous face. In trembling tones she exclaimed, "Husband, she is indeed our own Cocotin, lost to us these many years and now restored to our old age by the gods! The marks are unmistakable." And then Marina, also tearful with her new-found joy, threw her arms about his neck and called him "father."

There was so much to tell and explain and wonder at, that the day was well advanced ere they set out to follow the Spanish army. This, as the old man had learned, was camped, at no great distance, on the hill of Montezuma. He had also heard rumors of the strong Aztec force already gathering to descend on them and complete their destruction at that place. To this news Marina listened with eager attention and all of her wonted alertness.

"Let us hasten!" she cried, when he had finished, "for it may be that this information will prove of the greatest importance."

So they set forth, the childless woman who had so marvellously recovered a daughter, and the motherless girl who had found that she was still possessed of the greatest of earthly blessings, walking hand in hand.