CHAPTER X.
THE 'TZIN'S LOVE.
The minstrel stayed a while to dress his harp with the vine.
"A woman would have done it better; they have a special cunning for suchthings; yet it will serve the purpose. Now let us on!" he said, when thetask was finished.
To the palace they then turned their steps. As they approached it, thewalk became more crowded with guests. Several times the minstrel waspetitioned to stay and sing, but he excused himself. He proceeded,looking steadily at the ground, as is the custom of the very aged.Amongst others, they met Maxtla, gay in his trappings as a parrot fromthe Great River.
"Good minstrel," he said, "in your wanderings through the garden, haveyou seen Iztlil', the Tezcucan?"
"I have not seen the Tezcucan. I should look for him in the great hall,where his bride is, rather than in the garden, dreaming of his bridal."
"Well said, uncle! I infer your harp is not carried for show; you cansing! I will try you after a while."
When he was gone, the minstrel spoke bitterly,--
"Beware of the thing known in the great house yonder as policy. A weekago the lord Maxtla would have scorned to be seen hunting the Tezcucan,whom he hates."
They came to a portal above which, in a niche of the wall, sat the_teotl_[34] of the house, grimly claiming attention and worship. Underthe portal, past the guard on duty there, through many apartments fullof objects of wonder to the stranger, they proceeded, and, at last, witha current of guests slowly moving in the same direction, reached thehall dominated by the king, where the minstrel thought to find theprincess Tula.
"O my friend, I pray you, let me stay here a moment," said the warrior,abashed by dread of the sudden introduction to the royal presence. Thesinger heard not, but went on.
Standing by the door, the young stranger looked down a hall of greatdepth eastwardly, broken by two rows of pillars supporting vast oakengirders, upon which rested rafters of red cedar. The walls were dividedinto panels, with borders broad and intricately arabesqued. A massivebracket in the centre of each panel held the image of a deity, theduplicate of the idol in the proper sanctuary; and from the feet of theimage radiated long arms of wood, well carved, crooked upward at theelbows, and ending with shapely hands, clasping lanterns of _aguave_which emitted lights of every tint. In the central space, between therows of pillars, immense chandeliers dropped from the rafters, socovered with lamps that they looked like pyramids aglow. And arms, andimages, and chandeliers, and even the huge pillars, were wreathed ingarlands of cedar boughs and flowers, from which the air drew aredolence as of morning in a garden.
Through all these splendors, the gaze of the visitor sped to the furtherend of the hall, and there stayed as charmed. He saw a stage, brightwith crimson carpeting, rising three steps above the floor, andextending from wall to wall; and on that, covered with green _plumaje_,a dais, on which, in a chair or throne glittering with burnished gold,the king sat. Above him spread a canopy fashioned like a broad sunshade,the staff resting on the floor behind the throne, sustained by twofull-armed warriors, who, while motionless as statues, were yet vigilantas sentinels. Around the dais, their costumes and personal decorationssharing the monarch's splendor, were collected his queens, and theirchildren, and all who might claim connection with the royal family. Thelight shone about them as the noonday, so full that all that portion ofthe hall seemed bursting with sunshine. Never satin richer than theemerald cloth of the canopy, inwoven, as it was, with feathers ofhumming-birds! Never sheen of stars, to the eyes of the wonderingstranger, sharper than the glinting of the jewels with which it wasfringed!
And the king appeared in happier mood than common, though the deep,serious look which always accompanies a great care came often to hisface. He had intervals of silence also; yet his shrewdest guests werenot permitted to see that he did not enjoy their enjoyment.
His queens were seated at his left, Tecalco deeply troubled, sometimestearful, and Acatlan cold and distant; for, in thought of her own child,the beautiful Nenetzin, she trembled before the remorseless policy.
And Tula, next to the king the recipient of attention, sat in front ofher mother, never more queenly, never so unhappy. Compliments came toher, and congratulations, given in courtly style; minstrels extolled hergrace and beauty, and the prowess and martial qualities of the high-bornTezcucan; and priest and warrior laid their homage at her feet. Yet herdemeanor was not that of the glad young bride; she never smiled, and hereyes, commonly so lustrous, were dim and hopeless; her thoughts werewith her heart, across the lake with the banished 'tzin.
As may be conjectured, it was no easy game to steal her from place soconspicuous; nevertheless, Nenetzin awaited the opportunity.
It happened that Maxtla was quite as anxious to get the monarch's earfor the benefit of his friend, the Chalcan,--in fact, for theintroduction of the latter's newly invented drink. Experience taught thechief when the felicitous moment arrived. He had then but to say theword: a page was sent, the liquor brought. Montezuma sipped, smiled,quaffed deeper, and was delighted.
"There is nothing like it!" he said. "Bring goblets for my friends, andfill up again!"
All the lordly personages about him had then to follow his example,--todrink and approve. At the end, Xoli was summoned.
Nenetzin saw the chance, and said, "O Tula, such a song as we haveheard! It was sweeter than that of the bird that wakes us in themorning, sweeter than all the flutes in the hall."
"And the singer,--who was he?"
Neither Nenetzin nor Yeteve could tell his name.
"He charmed us so," said the former, "that we thought only of taking youto hear him. Come, go with us. There never was such music or musician."
And the three came down from the platform unobserved by the king. Whenthe minstrel's message was delivered, then was shown how well theTezcucan had spoken when he said of the royal children, "They are allbeautiful, but only one is fitted to be a warrior's wife."
"Let us see the man," said Tula. "How may we know him, Nenetzin?"
And they went about eagerly looking for the singer with the gray locksand the vine-wreathed harp. They found him at last about midway thehall, leaning on his staff, a solitary amidst the throng. No one thoughtof asking him for a song; he was too old, too like one come from a tombwith unfashionable stories.
"Father," said Tula, "we claim your service. You look weary, yet youmust know the ancient chants, which, though I would not like to say iteverywhere, please me best. Will you sing?"
He raised his head, and looked at her: she started. Something she saw inhis eyes that had escaped her friends.
"A song from me!" he replied, as if astonished. "No, it cannot be. Ihave known some gentle hearts, and studied them to remember; but longsince they went to dust. You do not know me. Imagining you discerned ofwhat I was thinking, you were moved; you only pitied me, here sodesolate."
As he talked, she recovered her composure.
"Will you sing for me, father?" she again asked.
"O willingly! My memory is not so good as it used to be; yet one song,at least, I will give you from the numberless ills that crowd it."
He looked slowly and tremulously around at the guests who had followedher, or stopped, as they were passing, to hear the conversation.
"As you say," he then continued, "I am old and feeble, and it iswearisome to stand here; besides, my theme will be sad, and such asshould be heard in quiet. Time was when my harp had honor,--to me itseems but yesterday; but now--enough! Here it were not well that myvoice should be heard."
She caught his meaning, and her whole face kindled; but Nenetzin spokefirst.
"O yes; let us to the garden!"
The minstrel bowed reverently. As they started, a woman, who had beenlistening, said, "Surely, the noble Tula is not going! The man is adotard; he cannot sing; he is palsied."
But they proceeded, and through the crowd and out of the hall guided thetrembling minstrel. C
oming to a passage that seemed to be deserted, theyturned into it, and Nenetzin, at Tula's request, went back to the king.Then a change came over the good man; his stooping left him, his stepbecame firm, and, placing himself in front, he said, in a deep, strongvoice,--
"It is mine to lead now. I remember these halls. Once again, O Tula, letme lead you here, as I have a thousand times in childhood."
And to a chamber overlooking the garden, by the hand he led her,followed by Yeteve, sobbing like a child. A dim light from the lampswithout disclosed the walls hung with trophies captured in wars with thesurrounding tribes and nations. Where the rays were strongest, hestopped, and removed the hood, and said, earnestly,--
"Against the king's command, and loving you better than life, O Tula,Guatamozin has come to say farewell."
There was a great silence; each heard the beating of the other's heart.
"You have passed from me," he continued, "and I send my grief after you.I look into your face, and see fade our youth, our hopes, and our love,and all the past that bore it relation. The days of pleasantness areended; the spring that fed the running brook is dry. O Tula, dear one,the bird that made us such sweet music is songless forever!"
Her anguish was too deep for the comfort of words or tears. Closer heclasped her hand.
"O, that power should be so faithless! Here are banners that I havetaken. Yonder is a shield of a king of Michuaca whom I slew. I wellremember the day. Montezuma led the army; the fight was hard, the perilgreat; and after I struck the blow, he said I had saved his life, andvowed me boundless love and a splendid reward. What a passion the fieldof fighting men was! And yet there was another always greater. I haddwelt in the palace, and learned that in the smile of the noble Tulathere was to my life what the sunshine is to the flower."
He faltered, then continued brokenly,--
"He had honors, palaces, provinces, and crowns to bestow; but witness, Ogods, whose sacred duty it is to punish ingratitude,--witness that Icared more to call Tula wife than for all the multitude of hisprinceliest gifts!"
And now fast ran the tears of the princess, through sorrow rising tofull womanhood, while the murky chamber echoed with the sobs of Yeteve.If the ghost of the barbarian king yet cared for the shield he dieddefending, if it were there present, seeing and hearing, its revenge wasperfect.
"If Guatamozin--so dear to me now, so dear always--will overlook thewomanly selfishness that could find a pleasure in his grief, I willprove that he has not loved unworthily. You have asked nothing of me,nor urged any counsel, and I thank you for the moderation. I thank you,also, that you have spoken as if this sorrow were not yours more thanmine. Most of all, O 'tzin, I thank you for not accusing me. Need I sayhow I hate the Tezcucan? or that I am given away against my will? I amto go as a price, as so much _cocoa_, in purchase of the fealty of awretch who would league with Mictlan to humble my father. I am a weakwoman, without tribes or banner, and therefore the wrong is put upon me.But have I no power?" And, trembling with the strong purpose, she laidher hand upon his breast. "Wife will I never be except of Guatamozin. Iam the daughter of a king. My father, at least, should know me. He maysell me, but, thank the holy gods, I am the keeper of my own life. Andwhat would life be with the base Tezcucan for my master? Royal power ina palace of pearl and gold would not make it worth the keeping. O 'tzin,you never threw a worthless leaf upon the lake more carelessly than Iwould then fling this poor body there!"
Closer to his heart he pressed the hand on his breast.
"To you, to you, O Tula, be the one blessing greater than all otherswhich the gods keep back in the Sun! So only can you be rewarded. I takeyour words as an oath. Keep them, only keep them, and I will win for youall that can be won by man. What a time is coming--"
Just then a joyous cry and a burst of laughter from the gardeninterrupted his passionate speech, and recalled him to himself and thepresent,--to the present, which was not to be satisfied with lovers'rhapsodies. And so he said, when next he spoke,--
"You have answered my most jealous wish. Go back now; make no objectionto the Tezcucan: the betrothal is not the bridal. The king and Iztlil'cannot abide together in peace. I know them."
And sinking his voice, he added, "Your hand is on my heart, and by itsbeating you cannot fail to know how full it is of love. Take my blessingto strengthen you. Farewell. I will return to my gardens and dreams."
"To dreams! And with such a storm coming upon Anahuac!" said Tula. "No,no; to dream is mine."
Up, clear to his vision, rose the destiny prophesied for him by Mualox.As he pondered it, she said, tearfully,--
"I love my father, and he is blind or mad. Now is his peril greatest,now most he needs friendship and help. O 'tzin, leave him not,--Iconjure you by his past kindness! Remember I am his child."
Thereupon he dropped her hand, and walked the floor, while the bannersand the shields upon the walls, and the mute glory they perpetuated,whispered of the wrong and shame he was enduring. When he answered, sheknew how great the struggle had been, and that the end was scarcely avictory.
"You have asked that of me, my beloved, which is a sore trial," he said."I will not deny that the great love I bore your father is disturbed bybitterness. Think how excessive my injury is,--I who revered as a son,and have already put myself in death's way for him. In the halls, andout in the gardens, my name has been a jest to-night. And how theTezcucan has exulted! It is hard for the sufferer to love hiswrong-doer,--O so hard! But this I will, and as an oath take thepromise: as long as the king acts for Anahuac, not imperilling hersafety or glory, so long will I uphold him; this, O Tula, from love ofcountry, and nothing more!"
And as the future was veiled against the woman and dutiful child, shereplied simply, "I accept the oath. Now lead me hence."
He took her hand again, and said, "In peril of life I came to sayfarewell forever; but I will leave a kiss upon your forehead, and plantits memory in your heart, and some day come again to claim you mine."
And he put his arm around her, and left the kiss on her forehead, and,as the ancient he entered, conducted the unhappy princess from thechamber of banners back to the hall of betrothal.
FOOTNOTES:
[34] A household god.