CHAPTER XXIX.
In order to make plain certain things which have come under our notice in the last two chapters, it will be necessary for us to go back to Tezcot's, and the hermit's cave, and note the doings of our mountain friends in the interim between the departure from there of Euetzin and Cacami and the holding of the tournament at Tlacopan.
Mitla became a changed girl. She had lived to learn that older hearts than Oxie's were liable to impressions that wound, and that to fall in love with a noble was, indeed, a serious matter for a mere mountain girl to do. Her formerly bright and joyous life was clouded. She went about her duties with a half-heartedness, and seemed most contented when alone. Her parents and sister divined the cause of the great change in her disposition, and left her to occupy the time as best suited her. Knowing so well her generous nature, and how deep was her gratitude to the tzin for her rescue from the rascally Tepanec soldiers, they were not surprised that her feelings toward him had become those of a consuming passion. They treated her with true sympathy, deeply regretting the circumstances which had led to her unfortunate condition of mind.
Tezcot became an almost constant companion of the prince and Ix, and appeared to have lost all interest in his hunting exploits.
The management of the surveillance over the hermitage, which had been established for the protection of the prince, had been intrusted to Menke, who performed the duty faithfully, securing the vicinity of the cavern-retreat from intrusion.
The prince, on being introduced to the hermitage, thought he saw something familiar about its mysterious occupant, and, becoming interested, finally discovered who he was. He was at a loss to understand why the hermit, for several days, persistently avoided all allusions to himself, unless it was to satisfy a whim. The fact of the matter was that Ix wished to fathom the character and disposition of the prince before openly declaring himself. When he found Hualcoyotl to be a worthy son of his illustrious father, the hermit gave him his cordial adherence and valuable counsel.
It is true that Ix gave the prince and tzin his invaluable assistance on the occasion of the latter's first visit to the hermitage; and it was he that inserted certain signs and language in the document which Euetzin bore away with him, that assured the king of Tlacopan of its genuineness, and secured his confidence in the bearer. Of this, however, the prince and tzin were not aware at the time.
Though only a boy, with no particular interest in government affairs, when his father's sovereignty was so suddenly and disastrously terminated, the prince remembered Ixtlilchoatl as a person who stood high in the councils of the king. His discovery of so wise and experienced an adherent was highly gratifying to him, for he felt that he needed just such a man to give him counsel. So, after due consideration, he decided to make him his supervisor of military affairs, which, subsequently, led to his being placed in command of the allied armies.
Tezcot was taken into the secret of Ix's identity, which brought an acknowledgment from him as to his own nativity. He was a descendant of the Acolhuans, whose gentle nature he inherited, though not a born Tezcucan. The prince and Ix welcomed him to their councils, and he became an almost daily participant in their deliberations.
Hualcoyotl had always been of a thoughtful turn of mind, and, as an occupant of a lonely hermit's cave, could scarcely have been expected to put aside a habit which had become a characteristic. In the hours of restraint which he was compelled to endure he might have been found often in a state of abstraction, when visions of future weal, and, perhaps, exaltation to the high position which his royal ancestors had filled, would occupy his thoughts. In these absent moods, which were only waking dreams, it was natural that his favorites should be brought into an imaginary existence, to give to his fancies a semblance of reality. Who but Itlza, of Zelmonco, could have shared his dreamings as a queen, the partner of his fancied exaltation, since the affectionate regard of his boyhood for her had, through a later contact, suddenly developed into a passionate desire to possess her for his own. And now that there was reason to hope for the early restoration of Tezcuco to her former place among the nations of Anahuac, this desire was further strengthened by the possibilities to which such a state of affairs would give rise.
On the occasion of his brief stop at Zelmonco villa, while journeying toward the mountains, he resolved, as may be remembered, that, should the circumstances warranting it ever obtain, she should become his queen; and the resolution had lost none of its force, but, on the other hand, had become a fixed purpose. So it happened that the drifting of events, and the conditions attending them, pointed to the wrecking of somebody's hopes, which, apparently, only waited a convenient season for their realization.
Successful beyond his most sanguine expectations in the achievements which crowned his second visit to Macua, King of Tlacopan, on which occasion he found himself a conspicuous figure in the midst of an assembly of men high in authority, who only required the encouragement of a promise of success to make them the determined allies of Tezcuco in a war with Maxtla, Euetzin's first impulse was to go immediately and communicate the good news to the prince; but, after calmly weighing the matter, changed his mind, and proceeded first to arrange for the massing and equipping of the secret councils of Tezcuco preparatory to their joining the allied army. When this work was about completed he left the chiefs of councils to finish it, and, with Cacami and a strong guard of Tlacopan soldiers, set out with a view to escorting Hualcoyotl in from the mountains. At the same time he carried an urgent request from Macua, the King, for the prince to repair to his palace, to remain the guest of his majesty until the beginning of hostilities, when he could take his proper position at the head of the army.
On arriving in the vicinity of Tezcot's, a suitable spot was found for an encampment, and the soldiers were left to occupy it, while the tzin and his companion went on to the hunter's alone.
The friends arrived at the mountaineer's house in the afternoon, and, as luck would have it, found the hunter at home. They were received in a very friendly manner by the family, and made to feel that they were most welcome. Mitla was not so demonstrative as the others, but not less happy that such was the case. She could suppress all outward exhibition of her feelings, but could not obscure the passionate light which shone from her dark eyes as they rested on him whom she loved to the verge of idolatry. Euetzin saw the expression of gladness, intense in its fervidness, which greeted him, and, while Cacami occupied the attention of the rest of the family, found opportunity to say:
"I read my welcome in your eyes, Mitla, which are wonderfully bright to-day, and full of gladness. Their language is better than words, for words are sometimes deceptive."
"My eyes would always betray my feelings, yet I do not care now, for I would have you know how truly glad I am that you are here," she replied, the expression of pleasure deepening, if possible, in its intensity.
"I am glad if I bring you pleasure. It is worth a longer journey than we have made to see you looking so happy," he returned.
"I wish that words were not sometimes deceptive," she replied, putting a marked stress on the expression which she borrowed from him, "then would I, indeed, be happy at hearing you say that."
"You do not doubt my sincerity, Mitla?" he questioned, slightly confused at having his own words applied to himself.
"No, I do not doubt your sincerity; at least, not your desire to be so—that would be ungenerous; yet I can not help feeling that your desire to give me pleasure causes you to say what your mind, not your heart, suggests." This was said, accompanied by an appealing look which the tzin could not fail to observe. He said, feelingly:
"I am very, very sorry that you feel so, for nothing that I can say will make you feel differently." These words were true, and yet not true. Doubting, as he did, the character of the sentiment which her presence ever inspired, honor still forbade the utterance of the declaration which would have made them untrue, yet the declaration might have been consistently made. It was doubt alone, then, which made them true.
"I am sure you speak truly, and that you will be generous in your thoughts, forgiving a feeling in me which is beyond my control," she said, giving him a look at once tristful and yearning.
"I shall not try to controvert your feelings, for they may be just," he answered, kindly. "But, Mitla, I must be about my business. Our stay must be very short on the mountains; the time allowed us for coming and returning will not admit of an hour's extension. However, I will try to find a little time in which to talk with you before we go away." Her answer to this was an approving smile; and the tzin turned to Tezcot and informed him as to the object of their mission, and the necessity of its hasty accomplishment. The hunter was quick to appreciate the situation, and immediately set about getting ready to accompany them to the hermit's cave.
Passing over the explanations which followed the party's arrival at the cavern, and the arrangements which led up to the situation as we left it at Tlacopan, except to say that Euetzin and Cacami learned with astonishment and pleasure the true character of the hermit, and rejoiced with Hualcoyotl in view of the prospective restoration to Tezcuco of her great general.
All saw the importance of Ix's presence, and as well that of the prince, at Tlacopan, and not a moment was lost in getting ready to leave the hermitage.
Ix was loth to part from his friend Tezcot, who had done him uncounted acts of kindness, and relieved many of his lonely hours with his presence. He conceived the idea of forming a bodyguard for himself, and proposed that his friend should be made its chief. The project was warmly seconded by the prince and tzin, and pressed so earnestly by all, that the hunter finally yielded, with the proviso, however, that his friends, the mountaineers, should be asked to form the guard. This was agreed to, which resulted in the acquiescence of the hunters, and their appearance with the army, as we have seen.
The friends left the hermitage with varied emotions, which we will not try to interpret. They went slowly down the side of the mountain into the long ravine, thence out upon a more cheerful lay of the ground, where they found the walking more to their liking. They were in no hurry to reach the hunter's home; for darkness, they decided, should cover their entrance to it.
A half hour after the arrival of the party at Tezcot's found Cacami on his way to the camp of the soldiers to inform them of the intended early departure for the valley on the morrow; and also to make a detail of men to be at the hunter's at an early hour in the morning, to bear the palanquin in which the hermit was to make the journey. At the same time Euetzin and Mitla were out for a quiet talk. They were just approaching the little knoll where their last meeting occurred some weeks before, and he was saying:
"This spot would presently become memorable to us if our meetings on it should be continued."
"Yes, and you might add, for me, at least, not less endeared than memorable," she replied.
"I shall take pleasure in looking back to it, be assured, Mitla, and will try to imagine that I see you seated upon it in quiet happiness," he said, as they were sitting down. "And I am going to ask that you will permit your thoughts to occasionally dwell upon this hour, and that other; for, Mitla, I wish to be remembered."
"Can it be, tzin Euet, that you deem it possible for me to forget you, though a cycle in years were added to my natural life? How little do you understand the heart of woman, especially mine, so full of undying gratitude," returned the stricken maiden, her voice suddenly subsiding in a hush of sadness; for his words told her that the door of his heart was still shut against her.
"You say truly, Mitla; I am, indeed, incapable of understanding the heart of woman, or I would not be continually saying things which should be left unsaid. I know very well that for either of us to forget is an impossibility; for, to do so, it would be necessary to forget an incident, the terrible circumstances of which are indelibly fixed upon each of our memories. You must forgive my blundering, and believe me truly regretful, Mitla, that I am so thoughtless of speech," said he, contritely.
"There is nothing to forgive. I am foolishly sensitive, that is all," she answered, with a sigh. "Forget it."
"No, Mitla, I shall not forget it," he replied, "but will only let it pass, to be a reminder, in the future, that I must guard my tongue."
"As you please, but, pray, do not allow it to annoy you," she returned, with an effort at cheerfulness.
Seeing the effort, and thinking to encourage it, the tzin said:
"Now you appear more like yourself—more like the Mitla I first knew. Cheerfulness is natural to you, and you should continually court its presence, for its absence leaves you a loser."
"I am sorry if it does, for I fear it has forever gone from me," she answered, falling into the same sad vein again.
"I can tell you, Mitla, what will restore your cheerfulness," suddenly spoke the tzin, as if a happy thought had just then come to him, which caused her to look up expectantly. "Come with your father to Tlacopan, and shoot for the archers' prize, which the king has offered."
"On what occasion is the prize to be awarded? I am not informed," she questioned.
"That is true; you could hardly have heard it. There is to be a great tournament soon, at Tlacopan, in which women will contest with bow and arrow for a beautiful prize. Your father and others are going, and you can come with them. It will do you good to be there and become interested in the contest."
"It would be very foolish of me to think of winning a prize in a contest with archers who have had experience in the arena," she replied, dubiously.
"I do not think so. Your arrow is as true as any that will be there on that day. Your success would depend on the deliberation with which your shooting is done. If you are able to compose yourself, under such circumstances, I think you could win the prize," he said, persuasively.
"Would it please you to have me go and shoot for the prize?" she asked, artlessly.
"It would, indeed, please me, Mitla; and I am sure your chances for winning it are as good as the best," he replied, with a sincerity equaling her simplicity. His answer decided the matter in her mind, for to please, and, at the same time, be near him, she would have done anything in reason. She said, by way of acquiescence:
"If my father will not object, I will go, if only in obedience to your wish."
"I am grateful for your consideration of my wishes, Mitla, and shall hold it an honor to have been instrumental in bringing into the arena an archer who, I am certain, will do credit to herself and her friends. I will obtain your father's consent; so you may consider it settled that I shall have the pleasure of seeing you shoot at the tourney."
She answered smilingly, and with evident satisfaction:
"I hope you will not be disappointed in your debutante."
"I am sure I shall not be, even should she fail to win," he rejoined, pleased at the happy change the idea had produced in her.
After some little time spent in explanations and talk about the tournament they were interrupted by Cacami coming along, on his return from the soldiers' camp. They joined him, and together went into the house.
The next morning found the hunter's house a scene of lively preparations for the departure of the tzin and his party. A rude palanquin had been hastily constructed in which to transport the hermit, who was not considered equal to the accomplishment of the journey on foot. Hualcoyotl had been furnished by the tzin with a Tlacopan warrior's outfit, which would secure him from detection.
The soldiers who had been detailed to bear the palanquin were early on the ground, and everything was in readiness for moving.
Mitla was sadly disappointed in the result of her meeting with the tzin; there appeared to be no cause for hope in a requital of her great love by a return of his. When the moment came for parting she would have slipped away to hide the signs of her despair, which she felt must be apparent; but the tzin prevented it by insisting on her going a short distance with him. So it happened, when the cortege moved away from the house, she was walking at his side; while Oxie, vivacious and happy, walked and talked with the prince.
The opportunity for the development of Oxie's suddenly acquired admiration for Hualcoyotl into a stronger sentiment had not been afforded, as in the case of Mitla for Euetzin; she was, therefore, under no restraint, though in that peculiar mental condition which would have required but little encouragement to arouse a passionate sentiment which was only slumbering, and not profoundly either.
The tzin had secured the hunter's promise that Mitla should accompany friends to Tlacopan, to be present at the tourney and contest for the king's prize. On learning this she became quite cheerful, in view of the fact that she would soon see him again, and the parting, as a consequence, had comparatively little of sadness in it for her.
Good-byes were said, and the hunter and his daughters returned to their home, feeling that sense of loneliness which ever follows the breaking up of associations that have become dear to the heart.
The prince bade adieu to the mountains, in the fastnesses of which he had suffered so much, with no feelings of regret. Ix had learned to love the solitude of his hermitage, and, while rejoicing in the prospect of being restored to his people and country, felt a tinge of sadness as he cast his eyes for the last time toward the mountain which had given him security for eight long years.