The Fair God; or, The Last of the 'Tzins: A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico

by Lew Wallace

  CHAPTER X.

  THE ANGEL BECOMES A BEADSWOMAN.

  The stars at the foot of the last chapter I called in as an easy bridgeby which to cross an interval of two days,--a trick never to be resortedto except when there is nothing of interest to record, as was the casehere.

  Orteguilla occupied the interval very industriously, if not pleasantly.He had in hand two tasks,--one to instruct Tecetl about the world towhich he had vowed to lead her; the other to fix upon a plan of escape.The first he found easy, the latter difficult; yet he had decided, andhis preparations for the attempt, sufficient, he thought, though simple,lay upon the floor by the fountain. A lamp shed a dim light over thescene.

  "So, so, Tecetl: are we ready now?" he asked.

  "You are the master," she replied.

  "Very good, I will be assured."

  He went through a thorough inspection.

  "Here are the paint and brush; here the oil and lamp; here the bread andmeat, and the calabash of water. So far, good, very good. And here isthe mat,--very comfortable, Tecetl, if you have to make your bed upon astone in the floor. Now, are we ready?"

  "Yes, if you say so."

  "Good again! The Mother is with us. Courage! You shall see the sun andsky, or I am not a Spaniard. Listen, now, and I will explain."

  They took seats upon the bench, this time together; for the strangenesswas wellnigh gone, and they had come to have an interest in a commonpurpose.

  "You must know, then, that I have two reliances: first, the man whobrings the tray to the door; next, the Blessed Mother."

  "I will begin with the first," he said, after a pause. "The man is aslave, and, therefore, easy to impose upon. If he is like his class,from habit, he asks no questions of his superiors. Your father--I speakfrom what you have told me--was thoughtful and dreamy, and spoke butlittle to anybody, and seldom, if ever, to his servants. You are notwell versed in human nature; one day, no doubt, you will be; then youwill be able to decide whether I am right in believing that the traitsof master and slave, which I have mentioned, are likely to help us. Icarried your father's body over to the corner yonder,--you were asleepat the time,--and laid it upon the floor, as we Christians serve ourdead. I made two crosses, and put one upon his lips, the other on hisbreast; he will sleep all the better for them. As you would have done,had you been present, I also covered him with flowers. One other thing Idid."

  He took a lamp, and was gone a moment.

  "Here are your father's gown and hood," he said, coming back. "I doubtwhether they would sell readily in the market. He will never need themagain. I took them to help save your life,--a purpose for which he wouldcertainly have given them, had he been alive. I will put them on."

  He laid his bonnet on the bench; then took off his boots, and put onthe gown,--a garment of coarse black _manta_, loose in body and sleeves,and hanging nearly to the feet. Tying the cord about his waist, anddrawing the hood over his head, he walked away a few steps, saying,--

  "Look at me, Tecetl. Your father was very old. Did he stoop much? asmuch as this?"

  He struck the good man's habitual posture, and, in a moment after, hisslow, careful gait. At the sight, she could not repress her tears.

  "What, crying again!" he said. "I shall be ashamed of you soon. If wefail, then you may cry, and--I do not know but that I will join you.People who weep much cannot hear as they ought, and I want you to hearevery word. To go on, then: In this guise I mean to wait for the oldslave. When he lets the tray down, I will be there to climb the ladder.He will see the hood and gown, and think me his old master. He will notspeak, nor will I. He will let me get to his side, and then--"

  After reflection, he continued,--

  "Ah, Tecetl! you know not what troubles women sometimes are. Here am Inow. How easy for me, in this guise, to follow the slave out of thetemple! The most I would have to do would be to hold my tongue. Butyou,--I cannot go and leave you; the Senor Hernan would not forgive me,and I could not forgive myself. Nevertheless, you are a trouble. Forinstance, when the slave sees you with me, will he not be afraid, andrun? or, to prevent that, shall I not have to make him a prisoner? Thatinvolves a struggle. I may have to fight him, to wound him. I may gethurt myself, and then--alas! what would become of us?"

  Again, he stopped, but at length proceeded,--

  "So much for that. Now for my other reliance,--the Blessed Lady. If theslave escapes me, you see, Tecetl, I must trust to what the infidelscall Fortune,--a wicked spirit, sometimes good, sometimes bad. I mean weshall then have to hunt the way out ourselves; and, having already triedthat, I know what will happen. Hence these preparations. With the paint,I will mark the corners we pass, that I may know them again; the lampwill enable me to see the marks and keep the direction; if we gethungry, here are bread and meat, saved, as you know, from our meals; ifwe get thirsty, the calabash will be at hand. That is what I calltrusting to ourselves; yet the Blessed Mother enabled me to anticipateall these wants, and provide for them, as we have done; therefore I callher my reliance. Now you have my plans. I said you were my trouble; youcannot work, or think, or fight; yet there is something you can do.Tecetl, you can be my pretty beadswoman. I see you do not know what thatis. I will explain. Take these beads."

  While speaking, he took a string of them from his neck.

  "Take these beads, and begin now to say, 'O Blessed Mother, beautifulMother, save us for Christ's sake.' Repeat! Good!" he said, his eyessparkling. "I think the prayer never sounded as sweetly before; nor wasthere ever cavalier with such a beadswoman. Again."

  And again she said the prayer.

  "Now," he said, "take the string in your own hand,--thus; drop onebead,--thus; and keep on praying, and for every prayer drop one bead.Only think, Tecetl, how I shall be comforted, as I go along the gloomypassages, to know that right behind me comes one, so lately a heathenbut now a Christian, at every step calling on the Mother. Who knows butwe shall be out and in the beautiful day before the beads are twicecounted? If so, then shall we know that she cared for us; and when wereach the palace we will go to the chapel, with good Father Bartolome,and say the prayer together once for every bead on the string. So Ivow, and do you the same."

  "So I vow," she said, with a pretty submission.

  Then, by ropes fixed for the purpose, he raised the calabash, and mat,and bundle of provisions, and swung them lightly over his shoulders.Under his arm he took an earthen vase filled with oil.

  "Let us to the door now. The slave should be there. Before we start,look around: you are leaving this place forever."

  The thought went to her heart.

  "O my birds! What will become of them?"

  "Leave them to God," he replied, laconically.

  There were tears and sobs, in the midst of which he started off, lamp inhand. She gave a look to the fountain, within the circle of whose voicenearly all her years had been passed. In her absence, it would play andsing, would go on as of old; but in her absence who would be there tosee and hear? In the silence and darkness it would live, but nevermorefor her.

  And she looked to the corner of the chamber where Orteguilla had carriedthe body of the paba. Her tears attested her undiminished affection forhim. The recollection of his love outlived the influence of his Will.His World was being abandoned, having first become a tomb, capacious andmagnificent,--his tomb. But Quetzal' had not come. Broken are thydreams, O Mualox, wasted thy wealth of devotion! Yet, at this parting,thou hast tears,--first and last gift of Love, the sweetest of humanprinciples, and the strongest,--stronger than the Will; for if thelatter cannot make God of a man, the former can take him to God.

  And while she looked, came again the bird of the breast of purple andwings of snow, which she placed in her bosom; then she followed thepage, saying, trustfully, "O Blessed Mother, beautiful Mother, save usfor Christ's sake!"

  Outside the curtain door he deposited his load, and carefully explainedto Tecetl the use of the ladder. Then he placed a stool fo
r her.

  "Sit now; you can do nothing more. Everything depends on the slave: ifhe behaves well, we shall have no need of these preparations, and theymay be left here. But whether he behave well or ill, remember this,Tecetl,--cease not to pray; forget not the beads."

  And so saying, he tossed a stout cord up through the trap; then, leavingthe lamp below, he clomb to the floor above. His anxiety may beimagined. Fortunately, the waiting was not long. Through the gallerydistantly he saw a light, which--praise to the Mother!--came his way. Hedescended the ladder.

  "He comes, and is alone. Be of cheer, Tecetl; be of cheer, and pray. Oif the Mother but stay with us now!"

  Faster fell the beads.

  When the sound of footsteps overhead announced the arrival of the slave,Orteguilla put his dagger between his teeth, drew the hood over hishead, and began to ascend. He dared not look up; he trusted in theprayers of the little beadswoman, and clomb on.

  His head reached the level of the floor, and with the trap gaping widearound, he knew himself under the man's eyes. Another moment, and hishand was upon the floor; slowly he raised himself clear of the rope; hestood up, then turned to the slave, and saw him to be old, and feeble,and almost naked; the lamp was on his forehead, the tray at his feet;his face was downcast, his posture humble. The Spaniard's blood leapedexultantly; nevertheless, carefully and deliberately, as became hisassumed character, he moved to one side of the passage, to clear theway to the trap. The servant accepted the movement, and without a wordtook the lamp from his head, crossed the great stone, fixed the ropes,and stooped to lower the tray.

  Orteguilla had anticipated everything, even this action, which gave himhis supreme advantage; so he picked up the cord lying near, and steppedto the old man's side. When the tray was landed below, the latter raisedhimself upon his knees; in an instant the cord was around his body;before he understood the assault, escape was impossible.

  Orteguilla, his head yet covered by the hood, said calmly, "Be quiet,and you are safe."

  The man looked up, and replied, "I am the paba's servant now, even as Iwas when a youth. I have done no wrong, and am not afraid."

  "I want you to live. Only move not."

  Then the page called, "Tecetl! Tecetl!"

  "Here," she answered.

  "Try, now, to come up. Be careful lest you fall. If you need help, tellme."

  "What shall I do with the bread and meat, and--"

  "Leave them. The Mother has been with us. Come up."

  The climbing was really a sailor's feat, and difficult for her; finally,she raised her head through the trap. At the sight, the slave shrankback, as if to run. Orteguilla spoke to him.

  "Be not afraid of the child. I have raised her to help me take care ofthe temple. We are going to the chapel now."

  The man turned to him curiously; possibly he detected a strange accentunder the hood. When, on her part, Tecetl saw him, she stopped, full ofwonder as of fear. Old and ugly as he was, he yet confirmed the page'sstory, and brought the new world directly to her. So a child stops, andregards the first person met at the door of a strange house,--attracted,curious, afraid.

  "Come on," said Orteguilla.

  She raised her hand overhead, and held up the bird with the white wings.

  "Take it," she said.

  Used as he was to wonderful things in connection with his old master,the servant held back. A girl and a bird from the cells,--a mystery,indeed!

  "Take it," said Orteguilla.

  He did so; whereupon the page assisted her to the floor.

  "We are almost there,--almost," he said, cheerfully. "Have you keptcount of the prayers? Let me see the beads."

  She held out the rosary.

  "Ten beads more,--ten prayers yet. The Mother is with us. Courage!"

  Then of the slave he asked,--

  "How is the day without?"

  "There is not a cloud in the sky."

  "Is it morning or evening?"

  "About midday."

  "Is the city quiet?"

  "I cannot say."

  "Very well. Give the girl her bird, and lead to the court-yard."

  And they started, the slave ahead, held in check by the cord in theSpaniard's hand. The light was faint and unsteady. Once they ascended aflight of steps, and twice changed direction. When the page saw the manycells on either side, and the number of intersecting passages, all equalin height and width, and bounded by the same walls of rough red stone,he understood how he became lost; and with a shuddering recollection ofhis wanderings through the great house, he could not sufficiently thankthe Providence that was now befriending him.

  They clomb yet another stairway, and again changed direction; afterthat, a little farther walk, and Orteguilla caught sight of a doorwaypenetrated by a pure white light, which he recognized as day. Wordscannot express his emotion; his spirit could hardly be controlled; hewould have shouted, sung, danced,--anything to relieve himself of thisoppression of happiness. But he thought, if he were out of the temple,he would not yet be out of danger; that he had to make way, by the greatstreet from which he had been driven, to the quarters of his friends,before he could promise himself rest and safety; the disguise was thesecret of his present good-fortune, and must help him further. So herestrained himself, saying to Tecetl,--

  "For the time, cease your prayers, little one. The world I promised tobring you to is close by. I see the daylight."

  There was indeed a door into the _patio_, or court-yard, of the temple.Under the lintel the page lingered a moment,--the court was clear. Thenhe gave the cord into the servant's hand, with the usual partingsalutation, and stepped once more into the air, fresh with the moistureof the lake and the fragrance of the valley. He looked to the sky, blueas ever; and through its serenity, up sped his grateful Ave Maria. Inthe exulting sense of rescue, he forgot all else, and was well acrossthe court to the steps leading to the _azoteas_, when he thought ofTecetl. He looked back, and did not see her; he ran to the door; she wasthere. The bird had fallen to the floor, and was fluttering blindlyabout; her hands were pressed hard over her face.

  "What ails you?" he asked, petulantly. "This is not a time to halt andcry. Come on."

  "I cannot--"

  "Cannot! Give me your hand."

  He led her through the door, under the colonnade, out into the court.

  "Look up, Tecetl, look up! See the sky, drink the air. You are free!"

  She uncovered her eyes; they filled as with fiery arrows. She screamed,staggered as if struck, and cried, "Where are you? I am lost, I amblind!"

  "_O Madre de Dios!_" said Orteguilla, comprehending the calamity, andall its inconveniences to her and himself. "Help me, most miserable ofwretches,--help me to a little wisdom!"

  To save her from falling, he had put his arm around her; and as theystood thus,--she the picture of suffering, and he overwhelmed byperplexity,--help from any quarter would have been welcome; had theslave been near, he might have abandoned her; but aid there was not. Sohe led her tenderly to the steps, and seated her.

  "How stupid," he said in Spanish,--"how stupid not to think of this! If,the moment I was born, they had carried me out to take a look at thesun, shining as he is here, I would have been blinder than any beggar onthe Prado, blinder than the Bernardo of whom I have heard Don Pedrotell. My nurse was a sensible woman."

  Debating what to do, he looked at Tecetl; and for the first time sinceshe had come out of the door, he noticed her dress,--simply a cottonchemise, a skirt of the same reaching below the knees, a blue sasharound the waist,--very simple, but very clean. He noticed, also, theexceeding delicacy of her person, the transparency of her complexion,the profusion of her hair, which was brown in the sun. Finally, heobserved the rosary.

  "She is not clad according to the laws which govern high-born ladiesover the water; yet she is beautiful, and--by the Mother! she is aChristian. Enough. By God's love, I, who taught her to pray, will saveher, though I die. Help me, all the saints!"

  He adjusted the hood once mor
e, and, stooping, said, in his kindliesttone, "Pshaw, Tecetl, you are not blind. The light of the sun is so muchstronger than that of your lamps that your eyes could not bear it. Cheerup, cheer up! And now put your arm around my neck. I will carry you tothe top of these steps. We cannot stay here."

  She stretched out her arms.

  "Hark!" he cried. "What is that?"

  He stood up and listened. The air above the temple seemed full ofconfused sounds; now resembling the distant roar of the sea, now the humof insects, now the yells of men.

  "_Jesu!_ I know that sound. There,--there!"

  He listened again. Through the soaring, muffled din, came anotherreport, as of thunder below the horizon.

  "It is the artillery! By the mother that bore me, the guns of Mesa!"

  The words of Io', spoken in Xoli's portico, came back to him.

  "Battle! As I live, they are fighting on the street!"

  And he, too, sat down, listening, thinking. How was he to get to hiscountrymen?

  The sounds overhead continued, at intervals intensified by the bellowingguns. Battle has a fascination which draws men as birds are said to bedrawn by serpents. They listen; then wish to see; lingering upon theedge, they catch its spirit, and finally thrill with fierce delight tofind themselves within the heat and fury of its deadly circle. The pageknew the feeling then. To see the fight was an overmastering desire.

  "Tecetl, poor child, you are better now?"

  "I dare not open my eyes."

  "Well, I will see for you. Put your arms around my neck."

  And with that, he carried her up the steps. All the time, he gave ear tothe battle.

  "Listen, Tecetl; hear that noise! A battle is going on out in thestreet, and seems to be coming this way. I will lead you into the chapelhere,--a holy place, so your father would have said. In the shade,perhaps, you can find relief."

  "How pleasant the air is!" she said, as they entered.

  "Yes, and there is Quetzal',"--he pointed to the idol,--"and here thestep before the altar upon which, I venture, your father spent half hislife in worship. Sit, and rest until I return."

  "Do not leave me," she said.

  "A little while only. I must see the fight. Some good may come ofit,--who knows? Be patient; I will not leave you."

  He went to the door. The sounds were much louder and nearer. All the airabove the city apparently was filled with them. Amongst the medley, hedistinguished the yells of men and peals of horns. Shots were frequent,and now and then came the heavy, pounding report of cannon. He had beenat Tabasco, at Tzimpantzinco, and in the three pitched battles inTlascala, and was familiar with what he heard.

  "How they fight!" he said to himself. "Don Pedro is a good sword andbrave gentlemen, but--ah! if the Senor Hernan were there, I should feelbetter: he is a good sword, brave gentleman, and wise general, also.Heaven fights for him. Ill betide Narvaez! Why could he not have put offhis coming until the city was reduced? _Jesu!_ The sounds come this waynow. Victory! The guns have quit, the infidels fly, on their heels ridethe cavaliers. Victory!"

  And so, intent upon the conflict, insensibly he approached the front ofthe temple, before described as one great stairway. On the topmost stephe paused. A man looking at him from the street below would have said,"It is only a paba"; and considering, further, that he was a pabaserving the forsaken shrine, he would have passed by without a secondlook.

  What he looked down upon was a broad street, crowded with men,--notcitizens, but warriors, and warriors in such splendor of costume that hewas fairly dazzled. Their movement suggested a retreat, whereat pridedashed his eyes with the spray of tears; he dared not shout.

  More and more eagerly he listened to the coming tumult. At last, findingthe attraction irresistible, he descended the steps.

  The enemy were not in rout. They moved rapidly, but in ranks extendingthe width of the street, and perfectly ordered. The right of theircolumn swept by the Spaniard almost within arm's reach. He heard thebreathing of the men, saw their arms,--their shields of quilted cotton,embossed with brass; their armor, likewise of quilted cotton, butfire-red with the blood of the cochineal; he saw their musicians,drummers, and conch-blowers, the latter making a roar ragged and harsh,and so loud that a groan or death-shriek could not be heard; he saw,too, their chiefs, with helms richly plumed or grotesquely adorned withheads of wild animals, with _escaupiles_ of plumage, gorgeous as hues ofsunset, with lances and _maquahuitls_, and shields of bison-hide orburnished silver, mottoed and deviced, like those of Christians; amongstthem, also, he saw pabas, bareheaded, without arms, frocked likehimself, singing wild hymns, or chanting wilder epics, or shouting namesof heroic gods, or blessing the brave and cursing the craven,--the Sunfor the one, Mictlan for the other. The seeing all these things, it mustbe remembered, was very different from their enumeration; but a glancewas required.

  The actual struggle, as he knew, was at the rear of the passing column.In fancy he could see horsemen plunging through the ranks, plying sword,lance, and battle-axe. And nearer they came. He could tell by the signs,as well as the sounds; by the files beginning to crowd each other; bythe chiefs laboring to keep their men from falling into confused masses.At length the bolt of a cross-bow, striking a man, fell almost at hisfeet. Only the hand of a Spaniard could have launched the missile.

  "They come,--they are almost here!" he thought, and then, "_O Madre deDios!_ If they drive the infidels past this temple, I am saved. And theywill. Don Pedro's blood is up, and in pursuit he thinks of nothing butto slay, slay. They will come; they are coming! There--_Jesu Christo!_That was a Christian shout!"

  The cross-bow bolts now came in numbers. The warriors protectedthemselves by holding their shields over the shoulder behind; yet somedropped, and were trampled under foot. Orteguilla was himself in danger,but his suspense was so great that he thought only of escape; each boltwas a welcome messenger, with tidings from friends.

  The column, meantime, seemed to become more disordered; finally, itsformation disappeared utterly; chiefs and warriors were inextricablymixed together; the conch-blowers blew hideously, but could notaltogether drown the yells of the fighting men.

  Directly the page saw a rush, a parting in the crowd as of waters beforea ship; scores of dark faces, each a picture of dismay, turned suddenlyto look back; he also looked, and over the heads and upraised shields,half obscured by a shower of stones and arrows, he saw a figure whichmight well have been taken for the fiend of slaughter,--a horse andrider, in whose action there were a correspondence and unity that madethem for the time one fighting animal. A frontleted head, tossed up fora forward plunge, was what he saw of the horse; a steel-clad form,swinging a battle-axe with the regularity of a machine, now to theright, now to the left of the horse's neck, was all he saw of the rider.He fell upon his knees, muttering what he dared not shout, "Don Pedro,brave gentleman! I am saved! I am saved!" Instantly he sprang to hisfeet. "O my God! Tecetl,--I had almost forgotten her!"

  He climbed the steps again fast as the gown would permit.

  "My poor girl, come; the Mother offers us rescue. Can you not see alittle?"

  She smiled faintly, and replied, "I cannot say. I have tried to look atQuetzal' here. He was said to be very beautiful; my father always sodescribed him; but this thing is ugly. I fear I cannot see."

  "It is a devil's image, Tecetl, a devil's image,--Satan himself," saidthe page, vehemently. "Let him not lose us a moment; for each one is ofmore worth to us than the gold on his shield there. If you cannot see,give me your hand. Come!"

  He led her to the steps. The infidels below seemed to have held theirground awhile, fighting desperately. Eight or ten horsemen were drivingthem, though slowly; if one was struck down, another took his place. Thestreet was dusty as with the sweeping of a whirlwind. Under the yellowcloud lay the dead and wounded. The air was alive with missiles, ofwhich some flew above the temple, others dashed against the steps. Itlooked like madness to go down into such a vortex; but there was noother chance. What moment Don Pedro mi
ght tire of killing no one couldtell; whenever he did, the recall would be sounded.

  "What do I hear? What dreadful sounds!" said Tecetl, shrinking from thetumult.

  "Battle," he answered; "and what that is I have not time to tell; wemust go down and see."

  He waited until the fighting was well past the front of the old Cu,leaving a space behind the cavaliers clear of all save those who mightnever fight again; then he threw back the hood, loosed the cord from hiswaist, and flung the disguise from him.

  "Now, my pretty beadswoman, now is the time! Begin the prayer again: 'OMother, beautiful Mother, save us for Christ's sake!' Keep the countwith one hand; put the other about my neck. Life or death,--now we go!"

  He carried her down the steps. Over a number of wounded wretches who haddragged themselves, half dead, out of the blood and trample, he crossedthe pavement. A horseman caught sight of him, and rode to his side, andlifted the battle-axe.

  "Hold, Senor! I am Orteguilla. _Viva Espana!_"

  The axe dropped harmless; up went the visor.

  "In time, boy,--in time! An instant more, and thy soul had been inParadise," cried Alvarado, laughing heartily. "What hast thou there?Something from the temple? But stay not to answer. To the rear, fast asthy legs can carry thee! Faster! Put the baggage down. We are tired ofthe slaughter; but for thy sake, we will push the dogs a little farther.Begone! Or stay! Arrows are thicker here than curses in hell, and thouhast no armor. Take my shield, which I have not used to-day. Now beoff!"

  Orteguilla set the girl upon her feet, took the shield, and proceeded tobuckle it upon his arm, while Alvarado rode into the fight again. Amoment more, and he would have protected her with the good steel wall.Before he could complete the preparation, he heard a cry, quick, shrill,and sharp, that seemed to pierce his ear like a knife,--the cry by whichone in battle announces himself death-struck,--the cry once heard, neverforgotten. He raised the shield,--too late; she reeled and fell,dragging him half down.

  "What ails thee now?" he cried, in Spanish, forgetting himself. "Whatails thee? Hast thou looked at the sun again?"

  He lifted her head upon his knee.

  "Mother of Christ, she is slain!" he cried, in horror.

  An arrow descending had gone through her neck to the heart. The bloodgushed from her mouth. He took her in his arms, and carried her to thesteps of the temple. As he laid her down, she tried to speak, butfailed; then she opened her eyes wide: the light poured into them asinto the windows of an empty house; the soul was gone; she was dead.

  In so short a space habitant of three worlds,--when was there the like?

  From the peace of the old chamber to the din of battle, from the din ofbattle to the calm of paradise,--brief time, short way!

  From the sinless life to the sinful she had come; from the sinful lifesinless she had gone; and in the going what fulness of the mercy of God!

  I cannot say the Spaniard loved her; most likely his feeling was thesimple affection we all have for things gentle and helpless,--a bird, alamb, a child; now, however, he knelt over her with tears; and as he didso, he saw the rosary, and that all the beads but one were wet with herblood. He took the string from the slender neck and laid her head uponthe stone, and thought the unstained bead was for a prayer uncounted,--aprayer begun on earth and finished in heaven.