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

by Lew Wallace

  CHAPTER I.

  THE HEART CAN BE WISER THAN THE HEAD.

  I will now ask the reader to make a note of the passage of a fortnight.By so doing he will find himself close upon the 24th of June,--anothermemorable day in the drama of the conquest.

  'Tzin Guatamo, as is already known, had many times proven himself awarrior after the manner of his country, and, in consequence, had longbeen the idol of the army; now he gave token of a ruling faculty whichbrought the whole people to his feet; so that in Tenochtitlan, for thefirst time in her history, were seen a sceptre unknown to the law and aroyalty not the king's.

  He ruled in the valley everywhere, except in the palace of Axaya'; andaround that he built works, and set guards, and so contrived thatnothing passed in or out without his permission. His policy was to waitpatiently, and in the mean time organize the nation for war; and thenation obeyed him, seeing that in obedience there was life; such,moreover, was the will of Huitzil'.

  As may be thought, the Christians thus pent up fared illy; in fact, theywould have suffered before the fortnight was gone but for the king, whostinted himself and his household in order to divide with his keepersthe supplies sent in for his use.

  In the estimation of the people of the empire, it was great glory tohave shut so many _teules_ in a palace, and held them there; but thesuccess did not deceive the 'tzin: in his view, that achievement was notthe victory, but only the beginning of the war; every hour he had newsof Malinche, the real antagonist, who had the mind, the will, and thehand of a warrior, and was coming with another army, more numerous, ifnot braver, than the first one. In pure, strong love there is an elementakin to the power of prophecy,--something that gives the spirit eyes tosee what is to happen. Such an inspiration quickened the 'tzin, and toldhim Anahuac was not saved, though she should be: if not, the conquerorsshould take an empty prize; he would leave them nothing,--so heswore,--neither gods, gold, slaves, city, nor people. He set about thegreat idea by inviting the New World--I speak as a Spaniard--to takepart in the struggle. And he was answered. To the beloved city, turnedinto a rendezvous for the purpose, flocked the fighting vassals of thegreat caciques, the men of the cities, and their dependencies, the_calpulli_, or tribes of the loyal provinces, and, mixed with them,wild-eyed bands from the Unknown, the wildernesses,--in all, a multitudesuch as had never been seen in the valley. At the altars he had but oneprayer, "Time, time, O gods of my fathers! Give me time!" He knew thedifference between a man and a soldier, and that, likewise, between amultitude and an army. As he used the word, time meant organization anddiscipline. He not only prayed, he worked; and into his work, as intohis prayers, he poured all his soul.

  The organization was simple: first, a company of three or four hundredmen; next an army of thirty or forty companies,--a system which allowedthe preservation of the identity of tribes and cities. The companies ofCholula, for example, were separate from those of Tezcuco; while theAcolmanes marched and fought side by side with the Coatopecs, but undertheir own chiefs and flags. The system also gave him a number of armies,and he divided them,--one to raise supplies, another to bring thesupplies to the depots, a third to prepare material of war; the fourthwas the active or fighting division; and each was subject to take theplace of the other. To the labor of so many hands, systematized andindustriously exerted, though for a fortnight, almost everything ispossible. One strong will, absolutely operative over thousands, isnearer omnipotency than anything else human.

  The climate of the valley, milder and more equable than that of Naples,permits the bivouac in all seasons. The sierra west of the capital, andbending around it like a half-drawn bow, is marked on its interior, orcity side by verdant and watered vales; these were seized; and thebordering cliffs, which theretofore had shaded the toiling husbandman,or been themselves the scenes of the hunter's daring, now hid the hostsof New World's men, in the bivouac, biding the day of battle.

  War, good reader, never touches anything and leaves it as it was. Andthe daughter of the lake, fair Tenochtitlan, was no exception to thelaw. The young master, having reduced the question of strategy to theformula,--a street or a plain, chose the street, and thereby dedicatedthe city to all of ruin or horror the destroyer could bring. Not long,therefore, until its presence could have been detected by the idlestglance: the streets were given up to the warriors; the palaces weredeserted by families; houses conveniently situated for the use wereturned into forts; the shrubbery garnishing roofs that dominated themain streets concealed heaps of stones made ready for the hand; thebridges were taken up, or put in condition to be raised; the canoes onthe lakes were multiplied, and converted to the public service; thegreat markets were suspended; even the sacred temple were changed intovast arsenals. When the 'tzin, going hither and thither, never idle,observed the change, he would sigh, but say to himself, "'Tis well. Ifwe win, we can restore; if we lose,--if we lose,--then, to thestrangers, waste, to the waters, welcome!"

  And up and down, from city to bivouac and back again, passed theminstrels, singing of war, and the pabas, proclaiming the oracles anddivine promises; and the services in the temples were unintermitted;those in the _teocallis_ were especially grand; the smoke from itsturrets overhung the city, and at night the fire of Huitzil', a new starreddening in the sky, was seen from the remotest hamlet in the valley.The 'tzin had faith in moral effects, and he studied them, and wassuccessful. The army soon came to have, like himself, but oneprayer,--"Set us before the strangers; let us fight!"

  And the time they prayed for was come.

  * * * * *

  The night of the 23d of June was pleasant as night can be in that regionof pleasant nights. The sky was clear and starry. The breeze abroadbrought coolness to outliers on the housetops, without threshing thelake to the disturbance of its _voyageurs_.

  Up in the northeastern part of the little sea lay a _chinampa_ atanchor. Over its landing, at the very edge of the water, burned aflambeau of resinous pine. Two canoes, richly decorated, swung at themooring. The path from the landing to the pavilion was carpeted, andlighted by lamps pendent in the adjoining shrubbery. In the canoes theslaves lay at rest, talking idly, and in low voices crooning Indiansongs. Close by the landing, on a bench, over which swayed the leaves ofan immense banana-tree, rested a couple of warriors, silent, andnodding, as it were, to the nodding leaves. From the rising to thesetting of the day's sun, many a weary league, from the city to thevales of the Sierra in which bivouacked the hope of Anahuac, had theytravelled,--Hualpa and Io'. One familiar with the streets in these laterdays, at sight of them would have said, "Beware! the 'tzin is hereaway."The three were almost as one,--so had their friendship grown. Thepavilion, a circular canopy, spread like a Bedouin's tent, was brightlylighted; and there, in fact, was the 'tzin, with Tula and Yeteve, thepriestess.

  Once before, I believe, I described this pavilion; and now I know theimagination of the reader will give the floating garden richer colorsthan lie within compass of my pen; will surround it with light, and withair delicious with the freshness of the lake and the exhalations of theflowers; will hover about the guardian palm and willow trees, the latterwith boughs lithe and swinging, and leaves long and fine as a woman'slocks; will linger about the retreat, I say, and, in thought of itsfitness for meeting of lovers, admit the poetry and respect the passionof the noble Aztec.

  Within, the furniture was as formerly; there were yet the carven stools,the table with its bowl-like top, now a mass of flowers, a couch drapedwith brilliant plumage, the floor covered with matting of woven grasses,the hammock, and the bird-cage,--all as when we first saw them. Nenetzinwas absent, and alas! might never come again.

  And if we enter now, we shall find the 'tzin standing a little apartfrom Tula, who is in the hammock, with Yeteve by her side. On a stool athis feet is a waiter of ebony, with spoons of tortoise-shell, and some_xicaras_, or cups, used for chocolate.

  Their faces are grave and earnest.

  "A
nd Malinche?" asked Tula, as if pursuing a question.

  "The gods have given me time; I am ready for him," he replied.

  "When will he come?"

  "Yesterday, about noon, he set out from Tezcuco, by way of the shore ofthe lake; to-night he lodges in Iztapalapan; to-morrow, marching by theold causeway, he will re-enter the city."

  "Poor, poor country!" she said, after a long silence.

  The words touched him, and he replied, in a low voice, "You have a goodheart, O Tula,--a good heart and true. Your words were what I repeatevery hour in the day. You were seeing what I see all the time--"

  "The battle!" she said, shuddering.

  "Yes. I wish it could be avoided; its conditions are such that againstthe advantage of arms I can only oppose the advantage of numbers; sothat the dearest of all things will be the cheapest. I must take noaccount of lives. I have seen the streets run with blood already, andnow,--Enough! we must do what the gods decree. Yet the slaughter shallnot be, as heretofore, on one side alone."

  She looked at him inquiringly.

  "You know the custom of our people to take prisoners rather than kill inbattle. As against the Tlascalans and tribes, that was well enough; butnew conditions require new laws, and my order now is, Save nothing butthe arms and armor of the strangers. Life for life as against Malinche!And I could conquer him, but--"

  He stopped, and their glances met,--his full of fire, hers sad andthoughtful.

  "Ah, Tula! your woman's soul prompts you already of whom I wouldspeak,--the king."

  "Spare me," she said, covering her face with her hands. "I am his child;I love him yet."

  "So I know," he replied; "and I would not have you do else. The love isproof of fitness to be loved. Nature cannot be silenced. He is not asnear to me as to you; yet I feel the impulse that moves you, though ina less degree. In memory, he is a part of my youth. For that matter, whodoes not love him? He has charmed the strangers; even the guards at hischamber-door have been known to weep at sight of his sorrow. And theheroes who so lately died before his prison-gates, did not they lovehim? And those who will die to-morrow and the next day, what else may besaid of them? In arms here, see the children of the valley. What seekthey? In their eyes, he is Anahuac. And yet--"

  He paused again; her hands had fallen; her cheeks glistened with tears.

  "If I may not speak plainly now, I may not ever. Strengthen yourself tohear me, and hear me pitifully. To begin, you know that I have beenusing the king's power without his permission,--that, I say, you know,and have forgiven, because the usurpation was not of choice butnecessity, and to save the empire; but you will hear now, for the firsttime probably, that I could have been king in fact."

  Her gaze became intent, and she listened breathlessly.

  "Three times," he continued, "three times have the caciques, forthemselves and the army, offered me the crown. The last time, they wereaccompanied by the electors,[48] and deputations from all the greatcities."

  "And you refused," she said, confidently.

  "Yes. I will not deny the offer was tempting,--that for the truth. Ithought of it often; and at such times came revenge, and told me I hadbeen wronged, and ambition, whispering of glory, and, with readysubtlety, making acceptance appear a duty. But, Tula, you prevailed;your love was dearer to me than the crown. For your sake, I refused theoverture. You never said so,--there was no need of the saying,--yet Iknew you could never be queen while your father lived."

  Not often has a woman heard such a story of love, or been given suchproofs of devotion; her face mantled, and she dropped her gaze,saying,--

  "Better to be so loved than to be queen. If not here, O 'tzin, look forreward in the Sun. Surely, the gods take note of such things!"

  "Your approval is my full reward," he replied. "But hear me further.What I have said was easy to say; that which I go to now is hard, andrequires all my will; for the utterance may forfeit not merely theblessing just given me, but your love,--more precious, as I have shown,than the crown. You were in the palace the day the king appeared andbade the people home. The strangers were in my hand at the time. O, aglad time,--so long had we toiled, so many had died! Then he came, andsnatched away our triumph. I have not forgotten, I never can forget thedisappointment. In all the labor of the preparation since, I have seenthe scene, sometimes as a threat, sometimes as a warning, always arecurring dream whose dreaming leaves me less resolved in the course Iam running. Continually I find myself saying to myself, 'The work is allin vain; what has been will be again; while he lives, you cannot win.' OTula, such influence was bad enough of itself. Hear now how the godscame in to direct me. Last night I was at the altar of Huitzil',praying, when the _teotuctli_ appeared, and said, ''Tzin Guatamo, prayyou for your country?' 'For country and king,' I answered. He laid hishand upon my shoulder, 'If you seek the will of the god with intent todo what he imposes, hear then: The king is the shield of the strangers;they are safe while he lives; and if he lives, Anahuac dies. Let him wholeads choose between them. So the god says. Consider!' He was gonebefore I could answer. Since that I have been like one moving in acloud, seeing nothing clearly, and the duty least of all. When I shouldbe strongest, I am weakest. My spirit faints under the load. If theking lives, the empire dies: if it is to die, why the battle, and itssacrifices? This night have I in which to choose; to-morrow, Malincheand action! Help me, O Tula, help me to do right! Love of country, ofking, and of me,--you have them all. Speak."

  And she answered him,--

  "I may not doubt that you love me; you have told me so many times, butnever as to-night. I thank you, O 'tzin! Your duties are heavy. I do notwonder that you bend under them. I might say they are yours by gift ofthe gods, and not to be divided with another, not even with me; but Iwill give you love for love, and, as I hope to share your fortunes, Iwill share your trials. I am a woman, without judgment by which toanswer you; from my heart I will answer."

  "From your heart be it, O Tula."

  "Has the king heard the things of which you have spoken?"

  "I cannot say."

  "Does he know you were offered the crown?"

  "No; the offer was treason."

  "Ah, poor king, proud father! The love of the people, that of which youwere proudest, is lost. What wretchedness awaits you!"

  She bowed her head, and there was a silence broken only by her sobs. Thegrief spent itself; then she said, earnestly,--

  "I know him. He, too, is a lover of Anahuac. More than once he hasexposed himself to death for her. Such loves age not, nor do they die,except with the hearts they animate. There was a time--but now--Nomatter, I will try. 'Let him who leads choose': was not that the decree,good 'tzin?"

  "Yes," he replied.

  "Must the choice be made to-night?"

  "I may delay until to-morrow."

  "To-morrow; what time?"

  "Malinche will pass the causeway in the cool of the morning; by noon hewill have joined his people in the old palace; the decision must then bemade."

  "Can you set me down at the gate before he passes in?"

  The 'tzin started. "Of the old palace?" he asked.

  "I wish to see the king."

  "For what?"

  "To tell him the things you have told me to-night."

  "All?"

  "Yes."

  His face clouded with dissatisfaction.

  "Yes," she continued, calmly; "that, as becomes a king, he may choosewhich shall live,--himself or Anahuac."

  So she answered the 'tzin's appeal, and the answer was from her heart;and, seeing of what heroism she dreamed, his dark eyes glowed withadmiration. Yet his reply was full of hopelessness.

  "I give you honor, Tula,--I give you honor for the thought; but forgiveme if I think you beguiled by your love. There was a time when he wascapable of what you have imagined. Alas! he is changed; he will neverchoose,--never!"

  She looked at him reproachfully, and said, with a sad smile, "Suchchanges are not always of years. Who is he that to-night, only to-night,driv
en by a faltering of the will, which in the king, my father, iscalled weakness, brought himself prayerfully to a woman's feet, andbegged her to divide with him a burden imposed upon his conscience by adecree of the gods? Who is he, indeed? Study yourself, O 'tzin, andcommiserate him, and bethink you, if he choose not, it will be yours tochoose for him. His duty will then become yours, to be done withoutremorse, and--"

  She hesitated, and held out her hand, as if to say, "And I can love youstill."

  He caught the meaning of the action, and went to her, and kissed herforehead tenderly, and said,--

  "I see now that the heart can be wiser than the head. Have your way. Iwill set you down at the gate, and of war there shall be neither signnor sound until you return."

  "Until I return! May be I cannot. Malinche may hold me prisoner."

  From love to war,--the step was short.

  "True," he said. "The armies will await my signal of attack, and theymust not wait upon uncertainties."

  He arose and paced the floor, and when he paused he said, firmly,--

  "I will set you down at the gate in the early morning, that you may seeyour father before Malinche sees him. And when you speak to him, ask notif I may make the war: on that I am resolved; but tell him what no othercan,--that I look forward to the time when Malinche, like the_Tonatiah_, will bring him from his chamber, and show him to the people,to distract them again. And when you have told him that, speak of whatthe gods have laid upon me, and then say that I say, 'Comes he so,whether of choice or by force, the dread duty shall be done. The godshelping me, I will strike for Anahuac.' And if he ask what I would havehim do, answer, A king's duty to his people,--die that they may live!"

  Tula heard him to the end, and buried her face in her hands, and therewas a long silence.

  "Poor king! poor father!" she said at last. "For me to ask him to die! Aheavy, heavy burden, O 'tzin!"

  "The gods help you!" he replied.

  "If Malinche hold me prisoner, how will the answer avail you?"

  "Have you not there two scarfs,--the one green, the other white?"

  "Yes."

  "Take them with you, and from the roof, if your father resolve not, showthe green one. Alas, then, for me! If, in its stead, you wave the whiteone, I shall know that he comes, if so he does, by force, and that"--hisvoice trembled--"_it is his will Anahuac should live_."

  She listened wistfully, and replied, "I understand; Anahuac saved meansMontezuma lost. But doubt him not, doubt him not; he will remember hisglory's day, and die as he has lived."

  * * * * *

  An hour later, and the canoe of the 'tzin passed into one of the canalsof the city. The parting on the _chinampa_ may be imagined. Love willhave its way even in war.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [48] The monarchy was elective.--PRESCOTT, _Conq. of Mexico_, Vol. I., p. 24