The White Conquerors: A Tale of Toltec and Aztec

When this was understood by Sandoval, his eyes sparkled with gladness, and, grasping Huetzin's hand, he exclaimed: "Now I know for what great purpose I was moved to save thy life! Henceforth shall we be as brothers! Thy quarrel shall be mine, and mine thine! When thou art recovered thy full strength I will arm thee as becomes a Christian, and teach thee to fight as a Christian. In token of this thou shalt hereafter be called 'Juan,' which was the name of my own brother, now dwelling with the saints in glory."

Although Huetzin failed at the time to comprehend these words, he read the sentiment expressed in the other's face, understood the meaning of the sturdy hand-grasp, and was filled with a great joy. This was the end of conversation for the present; and, at Marina's suggestion, Huetzin was again left to rest.

That night the Tlascalans made an attack on the Spanish camp; and when the defenders returned from repelling it Sandoval was greatly concerned to learn, from Marina, that his newly adopted brother had disappeared, leaving no trace of where he had gone. To her news the Indian maiden added, mysteriously, that she did not believe they had seen the last of him; but she could not be persuaded to name her reason for so thinking.

By these repeated attacks not only was the Spanish force constantly weakened, but many of its members were so disheartened that they became clamorous for Cortes to give over his hopeless attempt to reach the Aztec capital, and lead them back to the coast. If this petty mountain republic could offer such determined opposition to their progress, what might they not expect from the powerful nation whom they had yet to meet? was the question that even the undaunted leader found it difficult to answer. At the same time the camp was filled with rumors of the gathering, for their destruction, of another Tlascalan army, greater and more formidable than any they had yet encountered. Food was becoming scarce with them, for they had wasted the neighborhood with fire and sword, there was much sickness in camp, and even the White Conqueror himself was ill of a fever, aggravated by anxiety.

The affairs of the Spaniards stood thus for several days: but one morning, when gloom and despair had wellnigh reached their climax, the camp was gladdened by the approach of a small but imposing body of Tlascalan chiefs, wearing white badges, indicative of a peaceful errand. At their head walked a young man whose noble appearance and martial bearing attracted admiration even from the Spaniards. Over a cuirass of golden scales he wore a magnificent feather cloak, in which were harmoniously blended the most brilliant colors. Boots of tanned leather, ornamented with gold and jewels, reached to his thighs. On his head he wore a golden casque, decorated with the graceful plumes of a white heron. This, and the colors of his cloak, designated him as belonging to the house of Titcala. His only weapon was a Spanish sword of the finest Toledo steel, which was recognized to be the one sent as a present by Cortes to the Tlascalans with his first embassy.

Proudly advancing between the curious but orderly ranks of Spanish soldiers, to where Cortes stood, surrounded by his captains, and with Marina near at hand to act as interpreter, the young man made respectful obeisance by touching the ground with his hand and raising it to his head. Then he said:

"My Lord Malinche (the native name for Cortes) I am commissioned by the Great Council of Tlascala to invite you, with your army, to become the honored guests of their city, and there discuss with them the terms of a solemn treaty of peace and alliance. Even now Xicoten, the war chief of all Tlascalan armies, follows me to pledge his friendship, and urge your acceptance of this invitation."

Then for a moment, forgetful of the dignity of his position, the young man turned to Sandoval, and lifting that sturdy soldier's hand to his lips, exclaimed: "My brother, to whom I owe my life, now will we indeed fight side by side!" to which the astonished captain replied, though in nowise comprehending the other's words:

"By the holy St. Jago! it is no other than Huetzin, my young Toltec, the captive of my bow and spear!"

CHAPTER XIII.

HOW PEACE WAS BROUGHT ABOUT

When Huetzin was left alone on the night of the Tlascalan attack, and knew, by the sounds from outside, that the entire Spanish garrison had gone to repel it, he conceived the idea of leaving the unguarded camp, making his way to that of Xicoten, and of endeavoring to persuade that impetuous war-chief to put an end to fighting. Although still weak, he felt that his will would carry him through the undertaking. Making his cautious way to the outer door of the temple, he was there confronted by Marina, who was just entering. Alarmed at the sight of a patient thus disobeying her command to rest quietly until he had recovered his strength, she at once ordered him back to his bed.

Smiling, but resolutely disregarding the stern command of this gentle mistress, Huetzin led her outside and there unfolded his plan. Marina replied that while it was a noble one, and met with her full approbation, he had not yet the strength to carry it out. Whereupon Huetzin suddenly threw his arms about her, lifted her lightly from the ground, kissed her full on the lips, and set her gently down again.

Springing to a safe distance, the girl, with burning cheeks and a well-assumed anger, abused him soundly for so shameful an act, and indignantly bade him be-gone, with the hope that she might never set eyes on him again. As he turned to obey her, she added that, if he ever dared to return, except as an ambassador of peace from Tlascala, she should certainly refuse to recognize him in any way. Then hurrying to the top of the temple, where, by the bright moonlight, she could discern something of what was taking place below, she prayed to the gods for the safety of the youth whom she had but now so bitterly denounced.

In the meantime Huetzin, filled with other thoughts than those of wounds or weakness, hurried down the hillside, on the opposite side from that on which the fighting was taking place, and, making a great circuit, gained the camp of the Tlascalans, who had just returned, filled with sullen rage, from the scene of their fourth defeat. Here he found it impossible to pass the guards, who, to his plea that he bore a most important communication for their general, replied that the latter would see no one that night.

Thus it was not until late on the following day that Huetzin gained audience of his haughty cousin, who, smarting under his reverses, was in much the temper of a caged lion recently deprived of its liberty. Although he recognized the son of Tlahuicol he refused to admit that he did so. When the latter ventured to speak of the mission on which he had come, the irate war-chief broke forth in a tirade of abuse, not only against the Spaniards, who, he declared, he would yet sweep from the face of the earth, but against all Tlascalan traitors, who, if they had escaped the sacrifice they so well deserved, should no longer escape from the just wrath of their patriot countrymen. Then, calling in the officer of his guard, Xicoten commanded that the young rebel, as he designated Huetzin, be seized, conveyed to the city, and thrown into the deepest dungeon of the temple.

As resistance to this cruel mandate would have been worse than useless, Huetzin suffered himself to be led quietly away by a file of soldiers, and, on the following morning, was taken to the city of Tlascala. Here, as he was hurried through the narrow streets, seeking in vain for a friendly face among the multitudes who thronged them, his heart was filled with such bitterness that he almost regretted not having turned traitor to his country and remained to share the fortune or fate of the white conquerors.

While he was thus sorrowfully reflecting, and walking mechanically between his stolid guards, there came an obstruction in the street that compelled them to halt. Looking up Huetzin caught sight of that which caused his heart to beat with a new hope. A silver-haired old man, evidently blind, was being borne past in a splendidly appointed litter. Above it waved a panache of heron's plumes, and its bearers wore the yellow and white livery of the house of Titcala. It was his own grandfather, the aged chieftain of Titcala, on his way to a meeting of the Great Council of the republic.

Freeing himself from his guards with a sudden movement, the young man sprang to the side of the litter, crying:

"My lord! oh, my lord! I am Huetzin, son of Tlahuicol, and of thy daughter! I am, moreover, in sore distress! Extend to me thy protection, I pray thee!"

Thus suddenly aroused from a deep reverie, the old man at first failed to comprehend what was said or who was speaking; but, on a repetition of the words, he commanded Huetzin to approach that he might identify him. This he did by slowly passing his sensitive fingers over the young man's face, as he had been used to do in former years. Finally he exclaimed, in trembling tones:

"It is indeed Huetzin, son of my son, and blood of my blood! But how camest thou here? Did I not hear that thou wert dead? They told me that thou, and thy noble father, mine own sweet child, and the little Tiata, had all been sacrificed on the bloody altars of Huitzil. How is it? Do Tlahuicol and his still live?"

"No, my lord," answered Huetzin. "Both my brave father and my beautiful mother have departed to the realms of the sun. As for Tiata I know not if she still lives. I myself have thrice escaped; once from the altars of Tenochtitlan, once from the camp of the white conquerors, and even now from the soldiers of Xicoten, who would lead me to a Tlascalan dungeon. But my story will keep for a later telling. First, I must deliver the last message of Tlahuicol, which is of vital importance to the republic for which he gave his life. Is there no place other than this street where I may entrust it to thy ears?"

"If it concerns the republic," answered the aged chieftain, "then it is for the senate, who even now await my presence. Come thou with me, and deliver it directly to those who must judge of its importance."

In that city the will of its most honored councillor was supreme, and not even the soldiers of Xicoten dared dispute it. Therefore Huetzin's guard allowed him to accompany his aged grandfather to the senate chamber, making respectful way for them to pass, but following closely behind in readiness to prevent any further escape of their prisoner.

The councillors of the republic, assembled to discuss the momentous question of war or peace with the terrible white conquerors, whose coming had shaken the nation to its foundations, rose and stood with bowed heads as their aged president appeared and was led to the seat of honor. As he passed them, they gazed with surprise at the meanly clad youth who walked beside him with a bearing as proud as that of any prince, and marvelled as to who he might be.

When the lord of Titcala faced them with his sightless eyes, and announced that this same youth was his grandson, the son of Tlahuicol, and that he had but now escaped from Tenochtitlan, bringing them a message from his dead father, a murmur of recognition and amazement swept over the assembly.

Then Huetzin, standing before them in his robe of tattered and blood-stained nequen, told, in the simple language with which oratory is made most effective, his story of the past year. He told of Tlahuicol's unswerving loyalty to his adopted country, despite the splendid offers of Montezuma to desert her and enter his service. He repeated his father's last words in a voice that trembled with emotion, and described with thrilling effect the final battle of the great Tlascalan war-chief. He told of his own escape, through the direct interposition of the gods, from the very knife of sacrifice, and of his experience in the camp of the white conquerors. He described his leaving it and his reception by Xicoten. Finally, he concluded with so strong an argument in favor of a Tlascalan alliance with the powerful strangers, against the hated Aztec, that none who heard him could resist his eloquence; and, when he finished, he was greeted with such a storm of applause as had never before swept over that solemn chamber.

As Huetzin stepped back to his grandfather's side the aged chieftain embraced and blessed him, while tears streamed from his sightless eyes. Then, declaring that his vote should, now and always, be for an alliance with the Spaniards, and begging to be excused from the deliberations of that day, the lord of Titcala retired, taking Huetzin with him, to his own palace. Here the young man was bathed in perfumed waters and clad as became his rank, and here he rested, recovering his strength, during all of that day. In the meantime the news of his return had spread through the city, and was received with such joy that, the next morning, when he appeared in the streets, on his way to the senate chamber, to which he had been summoned, he was greeted with universal enthusiasm.

By the councillors of the republic the dignity of the command of a division of the Tlascalan army was conferred upon the young warrior; also, in consideration of the life services of his father, he was presented with the most valuable weapon in all Tlascala, the sword of Toledo steel that Cortes had sent as a gift to the republic. Last and best of all, the newly made chieftain was commissioned to proceed at once to the camp of the white conquerors, and invite them, in the name of the republic, to visit the capital city, there to settle upon the terms of an everlasting peace and alliance.

Thus was Huetzin's cup of happiness filled to overflowing. There was but one drop of bitterness mingled with it. He was instructed to visit his cousin, Xicoten, on his way to the Christian camp, convey to that arrogant general the command of the senate that there must be no more fighting, and invite him, as the war-chief, to head, in person, the embassy to Cortes.

So the son of Tlahuicol, who had entered his native city a despised prisoner, clad in rags, left it, the next day, an honored chieftain, robed with the gorgeousness of his rank, and heading the most important embassy the New World had ever seen.

When he reached Xicoten's camp that hot-headed warrior, while not daring to openly oppose the messenger of the senate, yet managed to delay him for a whole day, while he secretly despatched spies to discover the condition of the Spaniards. If their report should prove favorable he was resolved on another attack, with the splendid army he had gathered, in spite of all the senators in Tlascala. Had this attack been made, the Spaniards, weakened by their previous losses, would undoubtedly have been destroyed, and all history would have been changed.

As it was, Cortes detected the spies, cut off their thumbs, and sent them back to their master with the message, that while the Christians never slept, and were ready for him at all times, they were also weary of waiting. Therefore, if he had not tendered his submission inside of twenty-four hours, they would desolate the land of Tlascala with fire and sword, until no living thing remained within its borders.

Thus was Xicoten's proud spirit humbled, and though he preferred to follow, rather than to accompany, Huetzin on his mission, the latter was no longer hindered from carrying it into effect.

CHAPTER XIV.

A CHALLENGE, AND ITS RESULT

While the embassy of Tlascalans, headed by Huetzin, was being received with all honor in the camp of the rejoicing Spaniards, another, consisting of five Aztec nobles, with a retinue of two hundred servants, bearing presents of great value, arrived from the court of Montezuma. They were sent by the trembling monarch to congratulate Cortes on his recent victories over the most redoubtable warriors of the Plateau, and to warn him against entering into an alliance with them. In reality the Aztec king, who had watched the movements of the white conquerors with deepest anxiety, and who had rejoiced when they took the road to Tlascala, still hoped that they might be destroyed by the armies of the mountain republic, and would have used any means to prolong the war just ended. Under pretence of needing time to prepare a suitable answer to his majesty, Cortes detained these ambassadors for several days, that they might witness his reception at the Tlascalan capital.

Preparations were now made for leaving the hill of Zompach, on which the conquerors had passed three memorable weeks, and its fortress-temple, the ruins of which are shown to this day as those of the "Tower of Victory." On the 23d of September, the anniversary of which is still celebrated by Tlascalans as a day of jubilee, the Christian army entered the capital of the brave little republic. The van of the procession consisted of a body of white-robed priests, chanting and scattering clouds of sweet incense from swaying censers. Next came Huetzin, proudly leading an escort of a thousand Tlascalan warriors. These were followed by Cortes and the Aztec envoys. After them marched the battle-worn Spanish troops, with their rumbling artillery and prancing cavalry bringing up the rear.

The eager multitude of spectators who thronged the streets and terraced roofs, and who were kept in check by an efficient body of native police, greeted the conquerors with acclamations, showering upon them garlands and wreaths of the choicest flowers. They even hung these over the necks of the horses, and on the black-muzzled guns. Arches of green branches, entwined with roses, spanned the streets, and the house fronts were gay with fragrant festoons.

A great feast was provided in the palace of Titcala for the entire Spanish army, and at the entrance the aged chieftain waited to welcome them. When Huetzin escorted Cortes to where the veteran stood, the latter passed his hands over the conqueror's face, and, tracing its lines of rugged determination, exclaimed:

"Now, oh, Malinche, do I understand the secret of thy success! Thou hast the will of a god; and when thy face is set, no mortal power may turn it to the right or to the left."

After the banquet the Spaniards were conducted to quarters prepared for them in the court of the temple. The festivities were continued for a week, during which time feasting was alternated with games and exhibitions of every description. The Tlascalans never wearied of witnessing the manœuvres of the Spanish horsemen, nor their displays of skill with the lance. In these, none so astonished the spectators as did Sandoval, with a feat that he performed, not only once, but many times in succession. It was to ride at full speed toward a paper target, and pierce, with the glittering point of his lance, a painted circle, no larger than a man's eye. Only one possessed of the steadiest nerves and keenest eyesight, trained by long practice, could have accomplished this feat. Even with these qualifications, the rider was so dependent on the steadiness of his horse, that on the back of any but his own Motilla, even Sandoval often failed to strike the tiny circle. With Motilla's aid failure seemed impossible, and of the plaudits that the feat drew from admiring throngs, it is doubtful if horse or rider received the most.

Nor was Huetzin at all behind his newly adopted brother in deeds of warlike skill. Standing at thirty paces from the same target used by Sandoval, he would hurl javelin after javelin through the tiny mark, each passing through the opening made by its predecessor without enlarging it. He could also shoot one, two, or even three arrows at a time from his bow, with equal precision, and could split the shaft of one, quivering in a mark, with the keen blade of another. Such feats, though rare, were not unknown to the Tlascalans; but to the Spaniards they seemed little short of supernatural, and, on account of them, Huetzin was treated with a greater respect by the white soldiers than any other native of the land.

During this time the young Toltec was eagerly acquiring two other accomplishments. From Marina he took daily lessons in the Spanish tongue, which she had learned to speak fluently during her six months of intercourse with the conquerors. From Sandoval he received an equal amount of instruction in the use of his highly prized sword. So carefully had he been trained by his warrior father in the handling of all native weapons, that, after a week of practice, he was nearly as dexterous with the Spanish blade as with his accustomed maquahuitl, a weapon that he was now inclined to despise. Something of this kind being intimated one day, within the hearing of Xicoten, that warrior, anxious to humiliate his cousin, whom at the same time he regarded as a rival, and jealous for the reputation of his national weapon, challenged Huetzin to a trial of skill.

Although the latter had not regained his full strength, and had but a few days of sword practice to match against the other's years of familiarity with the maquahuitl, his bold spirit did not permit him to hesitate a moment in accepting the challenge.

Sandoval was greatly troubled when he learned of the rash engagement entered into by his pupil. He expressed himself on the subject in vigorous language, ending with: "That rascally kinsman of thine is jealous of thee, Don Juan, and, if I mistake not, would gladly seize this flimsy pretext for putting thee out of the way. Canst thou not avoid him for the present, or until thou art better fitted to lower his pride?"

This being translated by Marina, who seconded Sandoval's appeal with a look from her own beautiful eyes that would have moved Huetzin from any purpose where his word was not pledged, he answered: "It may not be, my brother. I have promised to try a turn with him, and that promise I would redeem with my life, if necessary. But it will not be, I am convinced. Xicoten meditates no more harm to me than I to him, and the trial will be but a friendly one."

"Let him look to it that it is!" growled Sandoval, "and remember that I am to act as thy second."

The following day was set apart for certain games of wrestling, foot-racing, and other tests of strength or skill, and it was decided that these should end with the trial of weapons between Huetzin and Xicoten. There was an immense concourse of spectators to witness the games, and when at length the two Tlascalan champions stood forth, they were greeted with tumultuous applause. Each was accompanied by a second, pledged to see fair play. That of the war chief was a brother noble of gigantic size, and by Huetzin's side walked Sandoval, with a face as melancholy as though he were attending an execution.

There were no preliminary formalities. The contestants were placed two paces apart, Xicoten, armed with his maquahuitl, a tough oaken staff, some three and a half feet long, set with blades of itztli, and Huetzin with his sword of Toledo steel. Each bore on his left arm a tough leathern shield. Behind Xicoten stood his second, also armed with a maquahuitl, and a little to one side of Huetzin, Sandoval leaned gloomily on his great two-handed sword.

The contest began with a cautious play of fence, in which the adversaries displayed an equal skill, and which the spectators greeted with hearty approval. Soon, however, Xicoten's blows began to fall with a downright earnestness that boded ill for his slighter antagonist, and but for Huetzin's superior agility in springing back, and so evading them, it was evident that he would have come to grief. Several times was his guard beaten down by sheer force. The face of the young Toltec grew pale, his breath came in gasps, and it was apparent to all that his powers of endurance were nearly spent.

Finally blood began to ooze from the recent wound in his head, at sight of which murmurs arose from the spectators, and cries for the contest to end. Sandoval, who stood with half-closed eyes and an air of bored indifference, began to arouse. Huetzin deftly caught a cruel blow from Xicoten's maquahuitl on his shield; but beneath its force his left arm dropped as though numbed.

With blazing eyes Sandoval stepped forward and lifted his sword as a signal for the combat to cease. Disobeying the signal, Xicoten, blinded by a jealous rage, raised his weapon for yet another blow. Ere it could be delivered Sandoval's great sword was whirled about his head like a leaping flame, and in another instant it had shorn through the tough oak of Xicoten's weapon, as though it had been a reed. So complete was the severance that one-half fell to the ground behind the Tlascalan, leaving him to gaze at the other, still remaining in his hand, with such a bewildered air, that the vast audience broke into shouts of merriment. For a moment Sandoval glared about him as though seeking an excuse to repeat his mighty blow. Then, with a glance of contempt at Xicoten, he turned and stalked from the field.