slaves; and yet our tasks were not always easy. I remember once, down on the bank of the Great River, we were beaten back from a walled town, and succeeded only after a four days’ fight. Ah, but we made it win! We led three thousand slaves back to Tenochtitlan, besides five hundred captives—a present for the gods.”
So the merchant talked until the hunger of his new acquaintance was appeased; then he offered a pipe, which was declined.
“I am fond of a pipe after a good meal; and this one has been worthy a king. But now I have no leisure for the luxury; the city to which I am bound is too far ahead of me.”
“If it is your first visit, you are right. Fail not to be there before the market closes. Such a sight never gladdened your dreams!”
“So I have heard my father say.”
“O, it never was as it will be to-night! The roads for days have been thronged with visitors going up in processions.”
“What is the occasion?”
“Why, to-morrow is the celebration of Quetzal’! Certainly, my son, you have heard the prophecies concerning that god.”
“In rumors only. I believe he was to return to Anahuac.”
“Well, the story is long, and you are in a hurry. We also are going to the city, but will halt our slaves at Iztapalapan for the night, and cross the causeway before the sun to-morrow. If you care to keep us company, we will start at once; on the way I will tell you a few things that may not be unacceptable.”
“I see,” said the hunter, pleasantly, “I have reason to be proud of my father’s good report. Certainly, I will go a distance with you at least, and thank you for information. To speak frankly, I am seeking my fortune.”
The merchant spoke to his companions, and raising a huge conch-shell to his mouth, blew a blast that started every slave to his feet. For a few minutes all was commotion. The mats were rolled up, and, with the provision-baskets, slung upon broad shoulders; each tamane resumed his load of wares, and took his place; those armed put themselves, with their masters, at the head; and at another peal from the shell all set forward. The column, if such it may be called, was long, and not without a certain picturesqueness as it crossed the stream, and entered a tract covered with tall trees, amongst which the palm was strangely intermingled with the oak and the cypress. The whole valley, from the lake to the mountains, was irrigated, and under cultivation. Full of wonder, the hunter marched beside the merchant.
CHAPTER II.
QUETZAL’, THE FAIR GOD
“I was speaking about Quetzal’, I believe,” said the old man, when all were fairly on the way. “His real name was Quetzalcoatl.[4] He was a wonderfully kind god, who, many ages ago, came into the valley here, and dwelt awhile. The people were then rude and savage; but he taught them agriculture, and other arts, of which you will see signs as we get on. He changed the manners and customs; while he stayed, famine was unknown; the harvests were abundant, and happiness universal. Above all, he taught the princes wisdom in their government. If to-day the Aztec Empire is the strongest in the world, it is owing to Quetzal’. Where he came from, or how long he stayed, is not known. The people and their governors after a time proved ungrateful, and banished him; they also overthrew his religion, and set up idols again, and sacrificed men, both of which he had prohibited. Driven away, he went to Cholula; thence to the sea-coast, where, it is said, he built him a canoe of serpent-skins, and departed for Tlapallan, a heaven lying somewhere toward the rising sun. But before he went, he promised to return some day, and wrest away the Empire and restore his own religion. In appearance he was not like our race; his skin was white, his hair long and wavy and black. He is said to have been wise as a god, and more beautiful than men. Such is his history; and, as the prophecy has it, the time of his return is at hand. The king and Tlalac, the teotuctli,[5] are looking for him; they expect him every hour, and, they say, live in continued dread of him. Wishing to propitiate him, they have called the people together, and celebrate to-morrow, with sacrifices and combats and more pomp than was ever seen before, not excepting the time of the king’s coronation.”
The hunter listened closely, and at the conclusion said, “Thank you, uncle. Tell me now of the combats.”
“Yes. In the days of the first kings it was the custom to go into the temples, choose the bravest warriors there set apart for sacrifice, bring them into the tianguez, and make them do battle in the presence of the people. If they conquered, they were set free and sent home with presents.”[6]
“With whom did they combat?”
“True enough, my son. The fight was deemed a point of honor amongst the Aztecs, and the best of them volunteered. Indeed, those were royal times! Of late, I am sorry to say, the custom of which I was speaking has been neglected, but to-morrow it is to be revived. The scene will be very grand. The king and all the nobles will be there.”
The description excited the listener’s fancy, and he said, with flushed cheeks, “I would not lose the chance for the world. Can you tell me who of the Aztecs will combat?”
“In the city we could easily find out; but you must recollect I am going home after a long absence. The shields of the combatants are always exhibited in the tianguez the evening before the day of the fight. In that way the public are notified beforehand of those who take the field. As the city is full of caciques, you may be assured our champions will be noble.”
“Thank you again, uncle. And now, as one looking for service, like myself, is anxious to know with whom to engage, tell me of the caciques and chiefs.”
“Then you intend entering the army?”
“Well, yes. I am tired of hunting; and though trading is honorable, I have no taste for it.”
The merchant, as if deliberating, took out a box of snuff and helped himself; and then he replied—
“The caciques are very numerous; in no former reign, probably, were there so many of ability and renown. With some of them I have personal acquaintance; others I know only by sight or reputation. You had better mention those of whom you have been thinking.”
“Well,” said the hunter, “there is Iztlil’, the Tezcucan.”[7]
“Do not think of him, I pray you!” And the good man spoke earnestly. “He is brave as any, and perhaps as skilful, but proud, haughty, soured, and treacherous. Everybody fears him. I suppose you have heard of his father.”
“You mean the wise ’Hualpilli?”
“Yes. Upon his death, not long since, Iztlil’ denied his brother’s right to the Tezcucan throne. There was a quarrel which would have ended in blood, had not Montezuma interfered, and given the city to Cacama, and all the northern part of the province to Iztlil’. Since that, the latter has been discontented with the great king. So, I say again, do not think of him, unless you are careless about honor.”
“Then what of Cacama?[8] Tezcuco is a goodly city.”
“He has courage, but is too effeminate to be a great warrior. A garden and a soft couch delight him more than camps, and dancing women better than fighting men. You might grow rich with him, but not renowned. Look elsewhere.”
“Then there is the lord Cuitlahua.”[9]
“The king’s brother, and governor of Iztapalapan!” said the merchant, promptly. “Some have thought him better qualified for Chapultepec than Montezuma, but it is not wise to say so. His people are prosperous, and he has the most beautiful gardens in the world; unlike Cacama, he cares nothing for them, when there is a field to be fought. Considering his influence at court and his love of war, you would do well to bear shield for him; but, on the other hand, he is old. Were I in your place, my son, I would attach myself to some young man.”
“That