by G. A. Henty
These had sailed away, the day before Roger was fetched back. He was not altogether disappointed at having missed the strangers, who were of course Spaniards; for he wanted, if possible, to see something more of this beautiful country before he left; and he was, moreover, more than doubtful as to the reception he should meet with at the Spaniards’ hands, when, by his ignorance of their language, they discovered that he was a foreign intruder, in what they considered their territory.
CHAPTER 6
Anahuac
It was now six months since Roger was wrecked on the coast of Tabasco, he spoke the native language with perfect fluency, and had learned all that was known as to the nations round Tabasco. Malinche was his chief source of information. She herself did not belong to the country, but, as she told Roger, to a tribe that had been conquered by far mightier people, called Aztecs, who lived farther to the west.
It was from them, she said, that the people of Tabasco obtained their gold; which was there very plentiful, and was thought but little of, as being useful only for ornaments, drinking cups, and similar purposes. They dwelt in a city named Mexico, standing in the midst of a lake. There were kindred peoples near them, and the country generally was called Anahuac. All were subject to the Aztecs, and their armies had gradually conquered all the surrounding peoples.
They possessed great temples, compared to which those of Tabasco were as nothing. Their gods were very powerful, and all prisoners taken in war were sacrificed to them. They had rich mantles and clothing, and the Tabascans were but savages, in comparison.
Being asked how it was that she, who was a native of such a nation, came to be a slave among the Tabascans, she replied with tears that she had been sold. Her father had been a rich and powerful cazique, of Painalla, on the southeastern borders of the Mexican kingdom. He had died when she was very young, and her mother had married again, and had a son. One night her mother had handed her over to some traders, by whom she had been carried away. She had learned, from their conversation, that her mother desired her son to inherit all her possessions; and that she had, therefore, sold her to these traders. The daughter of one of her slaves had died that evening, and she intended to give out that Malinche was dead, and to celebrate her funeral in the usual way. The traders had brought her to Tabasco, and sold her to the cazique of that town.
“But this mother of yours must be an infamous woman, Malinche,” Roger said indignantly, “thus to sell away her own daughter to be a slave!”
“Girls are not much good,” Malinche said, sadly. “They cannot fight, and they cannot govern a people. It was natural that my mother should prefer her son to me, and should wish to see him a cazique, when he grew up.”
Roger refused to see the matter in that light, at all, and was indignant at Malinche for the forbearance that she showed, in speaking of the author of her misfortunes.
This conversation had taken place at the time when Roger had first learned to converse in the Tabascan language. The girl’s statements, with regard to the wealth of the country to which she belonged, had fired his imagination. This was doubtless the country concerning which rumors were current among the Spanish islands, and with whom it had been the purpose of his father’s expedition to open trade.
Malinche told him that they spoke a language quite different from that of the Tabascans. There were many dialects among the various peoples under the sway of the Aztecs; but all could understand each other, as they had all come down, from the far north, to settle in the country.
Thinking the matter over he determined, if possible, that he would someday make his way over to Malinche’s country, which seemed so far in advance of the Tabascans.
“The Spaniards will go there some day,” he said; “and although they would kill me without hesitation, if they found an Englishman there before them; I might yet, in some way or other, manage to achieve my escape.”
Accordingly, he asked Malinche to teach him her language; and at the end of the six months he could converse with her in it, almost as readily as he could in Tabascan; for in learning it he had none of the initial difficulties he had at first encountered, in acquiring Tabascan—the latter language serving as a medium.
The year which had elapsed, since the Swan sailed from Plymouth, had effected great alteration in Roger’s figure. He had grown several inches, and had widened out greatly; and was fulfilling the promise of his earlier figure, by growing into an immensely large and powerful man. He was, even now, half a head taller than the very tallest of the natives of Tabasco; and in point of strength, was still more their superior. Thus, although the belief in his supernatural origin was rapidly dying out, a certain respect for his size and strength prevented any of his opponents from any open exhibition of hostility. The fact, too, of his perfect fearlessness of demeanor added to this effect. Roger carried himself well, and as, with head erect, he strolled through the streets of Tabasco, with a step that contrasted strongly with the light and nimble one of the slenderly built natives, men made way for him; while his sunny hair, which fell in short waves back from his forehead, his fearless gray eyes, and the pleasant expression of his mouth, rendered him a source of admiration to the women; who, with scarce an exception, still believed firmly that he was no ordinary human being.
One day, when Roger was dressing in the morning, he heard excited talking in the street, and the sound of hurrying feet.
“What has happened this morning, Malinche?” he called out.
“The merchants have come,” she said. “The merchants from my country.”
As Roger had heard, from her, that a trade was carried on by Mexico with the surrounding countries, by merchants who traveled in parties, with strong bodies of armed men, and that they had been at Tabasco but a few days only before he had first arrived there, and might be expected again in about a year, he was not surprised at the news. He had, indeed, been looking forward to this visit; for he felt that his position was getting more and more unsafe, and that the cazique would not be able, much longer, to support him against the hostility of the majority of the men of importance in the town. What he had heard from Malinche had greatly raised his curiosity with regard to her country, and his longing to see these people, whom she described as invincible in war, and so infinitely superior in civilization to the Tabascans.
He had closely inquired, from Malinche, whether she thought he would be well received, did he reach her country. Malinche’s opinion was not encouraging.
“I think,” she said, “that they would sacrifice you in the temples. All our gods love sacrifices, and every year countless persons are offered up to them.”
“It is a horrible custom, Malinche.”
Malinche did not seem to be impressed, as he expected.
“Why?” she asked. “They would be killed in battle, were they not kept for sacrifice. The Aztecs never kill if they can help it, but take prisoners, so that death comes to them in one way instead of another; and it is better to be killed in the service of the gods, than to fall uselessly in battle.”
“I don’t think so at all, Malinche. In battle one’s blood’s up, and one scarcely feels pain; and if one is killed one is killed, and there is an end of it. That is quite different to being put to death in cold blood. And do they sacrifice women, as well as men?”
“Sometimes, but not so many,” she said; “and in dry weather they offer up children to Talloc, the god of rain.”
“But they cannot capture them in war,” Roger said, horrified.
“No, they are sold by their parents, who have large families, and can do without one or two.”
To Malinche, brought up in the hideous religion of the Mexicans, these things appeared as a matter of course; and she could scarcely understand the horror, and disgust, which her description of the sacrifices to her gods caused him.
“And you think that they would sacrifice me, Malinche?”
“I cannot say,” she replied. “The priests are masters in these things. If they said sacrifice, they would sa
crifice you; but if they thought you a god, you would be treated with great honor. How can I tell? I think that they would pay you greater honor than here, but of course I cannot tell.”
“Why should they pay me greater honor, Malinche?”
“Because one of our gods was white. Quetzalcoatl was the kindest of our gods. He taught us the use of metals, instructed us how to till the ground, and laid down all the rules for good government. When he lived in Anahuac everyone was happy. Every head of corn was so big that a man could scarce carry one. The earth was full of flowers and fruit. Cotton grew of many colors, so that there was no need to dye it, and the very birds sang more sweetly than they have ever sung since. Ah! If Quetzalcoatl had always stopped with us, we should have been happy, indeed!”
“But why did he not, Malinche?”
Malinche shook her head.
“He was a god, but not one of the greatest, and one of these grew angry with him—I cannot tell who. Perhaps it was the god of war, who saw that the Anahuans were so happy that they no longer went out to conquer other people, and to provide sacrifices for him. Perhaps they were jealous, because the people worshiped Quetzalcoatl more than them. Anyhow, they were angry with him, and he was obliged to leave us.
“He came down to the sea, and took leave of the people, promising that he or his descendants would some day revisit them. Then he took his seat in his boat, which was formed of serpent skins, and sailed away, and has never been seen again. But we all know that one day, if he does not come himself, white people will come from the sea to us.
“I think, Roger, that you are one of the descendants of Quetzalcoatl; and I think my countrymen would think so, too, and would hold you in great honor, if the priests, who are very powerful, did not turn them against you.”
“What was this god like?” asked Roger.
“He was tall in stature, and he had a white skin; and his hair was not like yours, for it was long and dark, and flowed over his shoulders, and he had a great beard. But as you are tall and white, you are like him; and as he went towards the rising sun, it may be that, afterwards, his hair changed from black to a color like yours, which seems to me brown when you are sitting here, but gold when the sun falls on it.”
“So it seems, Malinche, that I may be sacrificed, or I may be taken for a god! I would much rather that they would be content to treat me for what I am—a man like themselves, only of a different race and color.”
Roger had many conversations of this kind with Malinche, and as he felt his position becoming daily more precarious among the Tabascans, had come to believe that he should have at least as good a chance, among the Aztecs, as where he was.
In return for all the girl told him about her country, he told her much about his own. He explained to her that there were many peoples among the whites, as among the reds; and they fought against each other in battle, having weapons which made a noise like thunder, and killed at a great distance. He told her how one of these peoples, named Spaniards, had conquered many islands not very far distant from Tabasco; and how assuredly they would come, in time, and try to conquer this country, too. He explained that, while the nation to which he belonged was, at present, at peace with the Spaniards, they were not allowed to come into this part of the world; and that, had he and those who had sailed with him fallen into their hands, they would have been all put to death.
The news, then, that the Aztec traders had arrived was a matter of as much interest, to Roger, as to the people of the town. These looked forward to purchasing many things which they could not otherwise obtain; for the gold ornaments, the rich feather mantles, and most of the other articles of superior manufacture which Roger had seen, were not the work of the natives of Tabasco, but of their powerful neighbors.
The traders would stay, Malinche said, for four or five days, at least; and Roger, therefore, thought it better not to go out to see them, until he learned what were the cazique’s views concerning him. He therefore remained quietly at home, all day.
Upon the following morning he received a summons from the cazique.
“White man,” the chief said, “I have spoken to the Anahuac traders concerning you, and they have a great desire to see you. Therefore you will, this morning, accompany us to their camp.”
An hour afterwards Roger started with the cazique, and a numerous body of the latter’s counselors and attendants. The encampment of the Anahuans was a quarter of a mile from the town. In the center rose a large tent, the abode of the merchants; and around, ranged in regular order, were the rough huts erected by their escort.
These were assembled in military array. They were, like the Tabascan soldiers, clad in thick quilted doublets. Their spears were tipped with copper; or with obsidian, a stone resembling flint, of great hardness, and capable of taking a very sharp edge.
In front of the tent were several banners, embroidered in different devices in gold and feather work. Roger afterwards learned that merchants were held in far higher consideration in Anahuac than in Europe, that their business was considered as one of great honor, and that they were permitted to assume what may be called heraldic devices on their standards, to carry bright-feathered plumes, and to wear gold ornaments—such decorations being only allowed to warriors who had, by their deeds in battle, been admitted into an institution which closely resembled that of knighthood; all others dressing in plain white cloths, woven from thread obtained from the aloe. Even members of the royal family were not exempted from this law.
The whole trade of the country was in the hands of these merchants, who traded not only to its utmost borders, but with neighboring people. They were allowed to raise forces sufficient for their protection; they furnished the government with descriptions of the people they visited; and often afforded the State a pretext for wars and annexations, by getting up quarrels with the natives. They resembled, in fact, the East India Company during the last century, mingling in their persons the military and mercantile character.
In addition to their soldier escort, they took with them on their journeys a vast number of slaves. These carried the merchandise, made up into packets weighing about eighty pounds. Many of these slaves had been instructed in the arts of the Aztecs, and there were among them musicians, singers, dancers, and workers in metal and feather work; and these were sold, at high rates, to the people with whom they traded.
The merchants, who were attired in rich feather mantles, with plumes of bright feathers upon their heads, came to the entrance of their tent when the cazique, with his company, approached. After some talk between them and the chief, by means of an interpreter, Roger was brought forward from the rear of the company.
The merchants inspected him with grave curiosity. They turned and talked among themselves; then they invited the chief to enter their tent. He remained there for some time, and when he came out again returned to his companions and, ordering four of his soldiers to accompany him back to the town, left the rest of his party to traffic as they chose with the merchants.
He did not address Roger until they reached his house, and then bade him enter with him.
“White man,” he said, “the Anahuan merchants wish to carry you away with them to their own country; and have offered, in exchange, sundry slaves and articles of merchandise. I would not have parted with you; and have told them, indeed, that you were no slave of mine, to sell as I chose, but a stranger who had come to visit me from I know not where; and have also told them that, if you go with them, it must be of your own free choice, for that misfortune might fall upon my people, did I treat you with aught but honor.
“It is, then, for you to decide. You know that I wish well to you, and hold you in great esteem, deeming that your visit here will give prosperity, as well as honor, to Tabasco. But there are those among my people who are foolish and headstrong, and who view your coming with suspicion. The priests, too, are unfavorably disposed towards you, and have long urged that you would make a most acceptable sacrifice to the gods. So far I have withstood the
m, but I am old and cannot look to live long, and after I have gone your enemies would assuredly have their way. Therefore I think it is for your good that you should go with these merchants.”
The cazique was speaking the truth, but not the whole truth. The merchants had offered, in slaves and goods, an amount which had excited his cupidity; and he was, moreover, glad to be rid of the presence of one who was the cause of constant dispute and trouble in his councils. At the same time, he still believed in the supernatural powers of his visitor; and was afraid that, if the latter went against his will, he might invoke all sorts of ills and misfortunes upon Tabasco.
He was much relieved then, when Roger replied that he was willing to go with the merchants.
“I have seen,” he said, “that my presence here is unwelcome to many, and that I was the cause of trouble. I know, too, cazique, that you have befriended me to the utmost, while many others have been against me. I am willing, then, to depart.”
Great was the grief of Malinche when she learned, from Roger, that he was to go with the Anahuans.
“Could not my lord take me with him?” she asked presently, as her sobs lessened in violence.
“I shall be but a slave myself, Malinche.”
“If you ask the cazique he will let me go with you. I am but of little value to him.”