of mine, but Quetzal’s. Up, Mualox!” said Montezuma, throwing back the hood that covered his head. “Holy should be the dust that mingles in your beard!”
And the light from the tower shone full on the face of him,—the priest of lore profound, and monarch wise of thought, for whom Heaven was preparing a destiny most memorable among the melancholy episodes of history.
A slight mustache shaded his upper lip, and thin, dark beard covered his chin and throat; his nose was straight; his brows curved archly; his forehead was broad and full, while he seemed possessed of height and strength. His neck was round, muscular, and encircled by a collar of golden wires. His manner was winsome, and he spoke to the kneeling man in a voice clear, distinct, and sufficiently emphatic for the king he was.18
Mualox arose, and stood with downcast eyes, and hands crossed over his breast.
“Many a coming of stars it has been,” he said, “since the old shrine has known the favor of gift from Montezuma. Gloom of clouds in a vale of firs is not darker than the mood of Quetzal’; but to the poor paba, your voice, O king, is welcome as the song of the river in the ear of the thirsty.”
The king looked up at the fire on the tower.
“Why should the mood of Quetzal’ be dark? A new teocallis holds his image. His priests are proud; and they say he is happy, and that when he comes from the golden land his canoe will be full of blessings.”
Mualox sighed, and when he ventured to raise his eyes to the king’s, they were wet with tears.
“O king, have you forgotten that chapter of the teoamoxtli,19 in which is written how this Cû was built, and its first fires lighted, by Quetzal’ himself? The new pyramid may be grand; its towers may be numberless, and its fires far reaching as the sun itself; but hope not that will satisfy the god, while his own house is desolate. In the name of Quetzal’, I, his true servant, tell you, never again look for smile from Tlapallan.”
The paba’s speech was bold, and the king frowned; but in the eyes of the venerable man there was the unaccountable fascination mentioned by Iztlil’.
“I remember the Mualox of my father’s day; surely he was not as you are!” Then, laying his hand on the ’tzin’s arm, the monarch added, “Did you not say the holy man had something to tell me?”
Mualox answered, “Even so, O king! Few are the friends left the paba, now that his religion and god are mocked; but the ’tzin is faithful. At my bidding he went to the palace. Will Montezuma go with his servant?”
“Where?”
“Only into the Cû.”
The monarch faltered.
“Dread be from you!” said Mualox. “Think you it is as hard to be faithful to a king as to a god whom even he has abandoned?”
Montezuma was touched. “Let us go,” he said to the ’tzin.
CHAPTER VII.
THE PROPHECY ON THE WALL
Mualox led them into the tower. The light of purpled lamps filled the sacred place, and played softly around the idol, before which they bowed. Then he took a light from the altar, and conducted them to the azoteas, and down into the court-yard, from whence they entered a hall leading on into the Cû.
The way was labyrinthine, and both the king and the ’tzin became bewildered; they only knew that they descended several stairways, and walked a considerable distance; nevertheless, they submitted themselves entirely to their guide, who went forward without hesitancy. At last he stopped; and, by the light which he held up for the purpose, they saw in a wall an aperture roughly excavated, and large enough to admit them singly.
“You have read the Holy Book, wise king,” said Mualox. “Can you not recall its saying that, before the founding of Tenochtitlan, a Cû was begun, with chambers to lie under the bed of the lake? Especially, do you not remember the declaration that, in some of those chambers, besides a store of wealth so vast as to be beyond the calculation of men, there were prophecies to be read, written on the walls by a god?”
“I remember it,” said the king.
“Give me faith, then, and I will show you all you there read.”
Thereupon the paba stepped into the aperture, saying,—
“Mark! I am now standing under the eastern wall of the old Cû.”
He passed through, and they followed him, and were amazed.
“Look around, O king! You are in one of the chambers mentioned in the Holy Book.”
The light penetrated but a short distance, so that Montezuma could form no idea of the extent of the apartment. He would have thought it a great natural cavern but for the floor smoothly paved with alternate red and gray flags, and some massive stone blocks rudely piled up in places to support the roof.
As they proceeded, Mualox said, “On every side of us there are rooms through which we might go till, in stormy weather, the waves of the lake can be heard breaking overhead.”
In a short time they again stopped.
“We are nearly there. Son of a king, is your heart strong?” said Mualox, solemnly.
Montezuma made no answer.
“Many a time,” continued the paba, “your glance has rested on the tower of the old Cû, then flashed to where, in prouder state, your pyramids rise. You never thought the gray pile you smiled at was the humblest of all Quetzal’s works. Can a man, though a king, outdo a god?”
“I never thought so, I never thought so!”
But the mystic did not notice the deprecation.
“See,” he said, speaking louder, “the pride of man says, I will build upward that the sun may show my power; but the gods are too great for pride; so the sun shines not on their especial glories, which as frequently lie in the earth and sea as in the air and heavens. O mighty king! You crush the worm under your sandal, never thinking that its humble life is more wonderful than all your temples and state. It was the same folly that laughed at the simple tower of Quetzal’, which has mysteries—”
“Mysteries!” said the king.
“I will show you wealth enough to restock the mines and visited valleys with all their plundered gold and jewels.”
“You are dreaming, paba.”
“Come, then; let us see!”
They moved past some columns, and came before a great, arched doorway, through which streamed a brilliance like day.
“Now, let your souls be strong!”
They entered the door, and for a while were blinded by the glare, and could see only the floor covered with grains of gold large as wheat. Moving on, they came to a great stone table, and stopped.
“You wonder; and so did I, until I was reminded that a god had been here. Look up, O king! look up, and see the handiwork of Quetzal’!”
The chamber was broad and square. The obstruction of many pillars, forming the stay of the roof, was compensated by their lightness and wonderful carving. Lamps, lit by Mualox in anticipation of the royal coming, blazed in all quarters. The ceiling was covered with lattice-work of shining white and yellow metals, the preciousness of which was palpable to eyes accustomed like the monarch’s. Where the bars crossed each other, there were fanciful representations of flowers, wrought in gold, some of them large as shields, and garnished with jewels that burned with star-like fires. Between the columns, up and down ran rows of brazen tables, bearing urns and vases of the royal metals, higher than tall men, and carved all over with gods in bas-relief, not as hideous caricatures, but beautiful as love and Grecian skill could make them. Between the vases and urns there were heaps of rubies and pearls and brilliants, amongst which looked out softly the familiar, pale-green lustre of the chalchuites, or priceless Aztecan diamond.