by G. A. Henty
Roger did not answer for some minutes. He would have been glad, indeed, to have had Malinche—who had been his companion and friend, and whom he regarded almost as a sister—with him, but there were many things to be considered. He might be well received in this new country, but he might be sacrificed to these gods of theirs; and in that case Malinche might share his fate—as she said that even women were offered up. Even if well received, he might not be able to have Malinche with him.
Besides, of course he did not want her as an attendant, and in what other capacity could she go? If he got into trouble, and had to try to escape from their land, he might not be able to carry her off, too. If they were separated, what was to become of her? She could not go to the mother who had sold her as a slave. No; certainly, he decided, he must go without her.
“Malinche,” he said, after a long silence, “it cannot be. There is no saying what my fate may be, among your people. I may be offered up to those terrible gods you told me of. I may be treated as a slave. There is no saying what might happen. At any rate, I shall be unable to afford you any protection. Were we separated, as it is almost certain we should be, where could you go, or what would become of you? Besides, how in any case could we keep together? I could not have you as a slave, even if I wanted to do so, in your own country; and how else could you go with me? If you like, I will ask the cazique for your freedom, so that you might travel back to your own country with the merchants.”
The girl shook her head.
“I have no friends there, now,” she said. “Where should I go?”
“That is just what I am saying, Malinche. There is nowhere for you to go except with me; and I do not see how you could go with me. If you do not like this, I will promise you that, if things turn out well with me in your country, I will send by the next merchants who come here, and buy you from the cazique, and find friends for you there, and place you with them.”
“You would have wives there,” the girl said passionately; “and you would never think any more of me.”
Roger burst into a loud laugh.
“Why, Malinche, I am only a boy! I am not yet eighteen; and in my country we do not think of taking wives, until we are eight or ten years older than that. It is a serious thing with us, for each man has only one wife; and it behooves him, therefore, to be very careful in making his choice. I hope, long before it comes to my time for thinking of marriage, to be back in my own country and among my own people. If I were to marry here, how could I ever think of going away? I could not go and leave a wife behind me. I could not take her away with me, because she would never be happy among a strange people, any more than I should be happy if I lived here.
“No, no, Malinche, there is no fear of my marrying, any more than there is of my forgetting you. You can trust me. If I live, and do well in your country, I will send for you; and I will tell your people that you have been as a sister to me, and will see that this mother of yours does you justice, and that you shall come to your own again, and you shall marry some cazique of your own choice. If you do not hear from me, you will know that things have gone badly with me, and that either I have been sacrificed to your gods, or that I am held as a slave and have no power, whatever, to help you.”
Malinche said no more. Her dark eyes were full of tears, but with the habit of submission natural to Mexican women, she simply took Roger’s hand and placed it against her forehead.
“Malinche will wait,” she said, and then hurried from the room.
Before leaving, Roger gave Malinche several of the handsomest of the bracelets and necklaces that had been bestowed on him, in the first flush of his popularity at Tabasco; and gave presents also to the old woman. The two girls wept bitterly when he said goodbye to them, and Roger, himself, had to fight hard to restrain his tears.
“It is as bad,” he said to himself, “as it was saying goodbye to Dorothy and Agnes. Color does not matter much, after all. Malinche is just as good and kind as if she were white.”
The cazique himself conducted Roger to the Anahuac encampment. He had, that morning, made him various presents of robes and mantles, for he was very desirous that his visitor should part in goodwill from him; and he again impressed upon him the fact that he only parted with him because he felt that he could not protect him from the ill will of some of his people.
The merchants made no secret of their satisfaction, as soon as they had handed to the cazique the goods and slaves they had agreed to give, in exchange for Roger. They had, like the cazique, pretended to be indifferent as to the bargain; and had haggled with him over the terms of the purchase. But both parties were equally desirous of concluding the agreement and, while the cazique considered that he was making an excellent bargain for the visitor who had voluntarily placed himself in his hands, the merchants were still more delighted.
In the first place, the Mexicans were, as Malinche had told Roger, looking for the arrival of Quetzalcoatl, or of a white descendant of his from the sea; and if Roger were to turn out to be the expected god, the honor which would fall upon them, as his producer, would be great, indeed. But even should this not prove so, they would gain great credit, to say nothing of profit, by bringing home so singular a being, who would either be received in high honor by the king, or would be one of the most acceptable sacrifices ever offered to the gods.
As soon, therefore, as the cazique had left, they addressed Roger in terms of high respect, and presented to him some of their most handsome feather robes, tiaras with plumes, ornaments, and arms.
To their stupefaction, Roger replied in their own language, and as they were in ignorance that the cazique possessed a countrywoman of their own, among his slaves, they regarded this as a miracle of the most singular kind, and as an indisputable proof of the supernatural nature of their visitant. It was true that he did not speak as a native, but Quetzalcoatl, himself, might well have forgotten somewhat of his own language, in his hundreds of years of absence from Mexico.
The large tent was at once placed at Roger’s disposal, the merchants contenting themselves with a smaller one, raised beside it. A number of slaves were told off to attend upon him, and his meals were served with the greatest ceremony and deference.
That night, as Roger lay upon the soft pile of quilted rugs prepared for him, his mind was sorely troubled as to his position. Was he right in allowing them to deceive themselves into a belief that he was a supernatural being? Ought he not, rather, to tell them that all these gods they worshiped were false, and that there was but one true God—He who was worshiped by the White men?
Thinking it over in every way, he concluded at last that there was no necessity for him, at present, to undeceive the Anahuans. He would do no good by doing so, and would ensure his own destruction. He resolved however, that nothing should induce him to pay honor to their gods, or to take any part in their bloody sacrifices.
“They can kill me if they will,” he said; “but I am not going to be false to my religion. If they should not kill me I may be able, in time, to persuade them that their gods are false; but for the present it would be madness to try to do so. From what Malinche said they are devoted to their religion, and the priests are all powerful. If I am to do any good, therefore, it must be done gradually.
“What should we think, at home, if an Indian were to arrive, and to try and teach us that our God was a false one? Why, he would be burnt at the stake, in no time. And one cannot expect that these Indians would be more patient, in such a matter, than we should. When the Spaniards come, they will doubtless overthrow their gods, and force them to be Christians, just as they have the peoples in the islands.”
The next morning, early, the tents were pulled down, the slaves loaded up with what merchandise remained unsold, with the tents and provisions for the journey, and the caravan started for the west. A party of the soldiers marched first. Then came the merchants, with Roger and a small guard of armed men. They were followed by the slaves, and another body of troops brought up the rear.
Provisions were obtained by barter, and the inhabitants mingled fearlessly with the trading party. He remarked on this to the merchants, who replied that it was always their custom to keep on the most friendly terms with the people.
“Our caravans,” they said, “visit all the countries round our own, and did one of them ill treat the natives, the others would suffer for it. Therefore, we are always particular to give them no cause for dissatisfaction. The empire is extensive, and many parts of it are but newly conquered; therefore we should be gravely blamed, were we to embroil ourselves with its neighbors, until the king desired to carry his arms in that direction.
“Sometimes we have trouble. We were with a party who, a few years back, were attacked of the people of Ayotlan. We saw that trouble was coming, and fortified our camp; and for four years carried on war with the town, and in the end captured it. But this was forced upon us, and we had the approval of the king. All those concerned in the struggle were permitted to have banners of their own, and military emblems.”
“How did you supply yourselves with provisions all the time?”
“The country people were neutral. That was the advantage we had from having always treated them well, while the cazique of Ayotlan had been a tyrant, and had greatly oppressed them. So they brought in provisions to us for sale, and we had less difficulty, in that way, than the people of the town.”
At last the villages of the Tabascans were left behind. For some days the caravans traveled through a very sparsely populated country, and then arrived at a large village, where the Anahuac language was spoken.
“We are now in the country of the king,” the principal merchant said. “All over it you will find the same language spoken; for although there are many people who lived under their own chiefs, and many of whom have been but lately conquered, the language is similar, though spoken with differences, for all the tribes came down from the north and settled here.”
“And who dwelt here before they came?”
“A people called the Toltecs. They were a great people, well instructed in agriculture, great workers in metals and builders of grand cities.”
“And what became of them?”
“It is not known, but misfortunes came upon them, famine or disease, and it is said that they went away to the south. Then came a people called the Chichemecs, a barbarous people from the north, whom we found here when we came. Of us, the greatest tribe were the Aztecs, who settled on one side of the great lake and built a city there, called Tenochtitlan, or sometimes Mexico, from the great war god Mexitli.
“Another great tribe were the Tezcucans, to which we belong; and our capital is Tezcuco, on the eastern side of the same lake. Mexico and Tezcuco formed an alliance; and with us was Tlacopan, a smaller kingdom, hard by. It was agreed that in all wars, one-fifth of the spoil should go to the Tlacopans, and the rest be divided between the Aztecs and the Tezcucans. This alliance has remained unbroken, and together we have conquered all the countries round, and from sea to sea.”
“What sea?” Roger interrupted.
“There is, on the west, another great sea like this on the east, which stretches away no man knows whither; and between these two seas all the peoples, save one, acknowledge the dominion of Mexico—for although we are in alliance, the Aztecs have of late years taken the lead, for they have had very great monarchs, and are more war loving than we of Tezcuco; and our kings, and those of Tlacopan, acknowledge the Aztecs to be the leading power, and give to their king the title of Emperor.
“We maintain our own laws and usages. Our king places the crown upon the head of each new monarch of Mexico, but we own him to be the chief of our Confederacy, and the more distant countries, that have but recently been conquered, have been assigned entirely to the Aztecs, although we have had our proper share in the slaves and spoil taken in the war.”
“And what is the one state that has not been conquered by your Confederacy?”
“Tlascala. It lies high up among the mountains and, although but a small state, has maintained its independence, and has several times repulsed the attacks of our best soldiers.”
Roger thought that Tlascala must be a sort of Mexican Switzerland.
“It is singular that a small state should have resisted so long,” he said.
“They have not been very often attacked,” the merchant replied. “There is little to be got from them but hard knocks. The country is not fertile, the cold is too great, and they have only the necessities of life. Except for slaves, and for sacrifice to the gods, there is nothing to be gained by their conquest.”
“And you all worship the same gods?” Roger asked.
“Assuredly,” he said, “although some are thought more highly of in one kingdom, some in another. Mexitli—or as he is generally called, Huitzilopotchli—is of course the greatest everywhere; but he is worshiped most of all by the Aztecs. Quetzalcoatl is also greatly worshiped.”
As he spoke, the merchant glanced furtively up at Roger. The lad saw that this was a favorable opportunity for creating an impression. He smiled quietly.
“It is right that he should be,” he said, “since he taught you all the good things you know; and was, like myself, white.”
This proof of the great knowledge possessed by the being before him vastly impressed the Mexican. How could this strange being know the Mexican tongue, and be acquainted with its gods, unless he were one of them? It had pleased him to assume ignorance of other matters, but doubtless he was well aware of everything that had passed in the country since he left it. Henceforth the respect which he and his companions paid to Roger was redoubled.
As soon as they had reached the borders of Mexico, a swift runner had been dispatched to the nearest post with a message, to be sent forward to the King of Tezcuco, with the tidings of the arrival of a strange white being in the land; and asking for instructions as to what was to be done with him. In the meantime, the merchants told Roger that they wished him to abstain from going out into the various villages and towns at which they stopped.
“Until we know what are the king’s wishes concerning you, it were better that you were not seen. In the first place, all this country by the coast is under the Aztec rule, and as soon as you were seen, messages would be sent forward to Mexico, and the Emperor might desire that so great a wonder should be sent direct to him; whereas, if our own King sends first for you, you would be his property as it were, and even Montezuma would not interfere.
“It will not be long before an answer arrives, for along all the roads there are post houses, two leagues apart from each other. At each of these couriers are stationed, men trained to run at great speed, and these carry the dispatches from post to post, at the rate of eight or nine miles an hour.”
“But the messages must get changed, where they have to be given so often?”
“Not at all,” he said. “The couriers know nothing of the dispatches they carry.”
“Oh, they are written dispatches?” Roger said. “Then you possess the art of writing?”
“Writing, what is writing?” the merchant asked.
“Letters are inscribed on paper,” Roger said, “so that the person receiving them at a distance understands exactly what the one who wrote wished to say.”
The merchant shook his head.
“I know nothing of what you call letters,” he said. “We draw pictures, on a fabric formed of prepared skins, or of a composition of silk and gum, but chiefly on a paper prepared from the leaves of the aloe. Besides the pictures there are marks, which are understood to represent certain things. These picture dispatches are made in the form of rolls, or books. I myself have a slave who is skilled in such work, and who has depicted you, and added all
particulars, and the roll has been forwarded to Tezcuco.”
CHAPTER 7
A Wonderful Country
So anxious were the merchants to avoid arriving at any town of importance, where there would be an Aztec commander and garrison, until they received an answer from Tezcuco, that they traveled by very slow stages, camping in small villages where they could obtain water and supplies. Roger asked many questions of them as to the country, and learned that the hot and arid soil they were now crossing extended only about one-third of the distance to be traversed. Then that they would pass over a range of lofty mountains, offering great difficulties to travel, that the cold was extreme, and that snow lay almost continuously upon the highest summits. After crossing this range they would journey across a rich country, and descend at last into a most lovely and fertile valley, in which lay the lake, upon which the capitals of the two countries were situated.
The country they were now traversing varied considerably. In some places it consisted of parched and sandy plains, almost free of vegetation. In others, where the rains were less able to drain quickly away, were districts of extraordinary fertility. Here grew the cocoa, vanilla, indigo and aromatic shrubs innumerable, forming thick and tangled jungles, impervious to the foot of man. Flowers of gorgeous colors bordered these groves, and lofty trees of foliage, altogether strange to Roger, reared their heads above them.
The lad was delighted with the extraordinary richness of color, and the variety of the foliage, but he would have enjoyed it more had it not been for the intense heat of the sun, and the closeness of the air.
They crossed several large streams. They cut down the great rushes which bordered them and, tying these together in bundles, formed rafts, upon which four or five at a time were ferried over. Roger learned that the principal road from the coast ran from Cempoalla, a large town near the sea, but that this lay a long distance to the north, and that the route they were traveling ran nearly due west to Tepeaca, and thence northwest to Pueblo, after which the towns lay thickly, all the way to the lake. As far as Roger could learn the distance, from the coast which they had lately been following to Mexico, was by this route about three hundred miles.