CHAPTER XXXIII.
We will turn once more to Zelmonco villa, on which sorrow has again fallen through the afflicting hand of war.
It is a beautiful evening, an hour after the night-shades have swept away the last gleam of day. The moon's golden-hued disc is beaming refulgently down upon the glowing face of Anahuac. The unruffled foliage of shrub and tree is overcast with a silvern tinge, the reflection of Luna's mellow light on Nature's inimitable green, while, like groups of twinkling stars from afar, are seen in the distance the sacred fires which light up every temple's summit, and which are never permitted to go out. At such an hour, in which inanimate Nature, superbly robed and serenely smiling, wholly unresponsive to the sorrow which saddens her animate sister, as represented in the grief-stricken inmates of the villa home, we are privileged, as visitors, to stroll in the direction of the old oak tree, under which, in the past, the now mourning Itlza has found her chief pleasure in idle moments. As we approach the spot the first object to attract our attention is the flowerlike appearance of the beautiful fountain. We pause for a moment to view with delight the graceful turn and fall of its translucent waters, which resemble in the moon's soft rays a great white lily. In the excitement of our admiration we are led to repeat, mentally:
"Into the moonlight, whiter than snow,
Beautiful, flower-like, ceaseless thy flow.
Glorious fountain——!"
What sound is that which breaks in upon our reflection, scarcely louder than a murmur, rising in gentle undulations above the ripple of the fountain's flow as it falls into the effervescing pool below?
"My heart is sad—very, very sad, and were it not for your safe return, O Cacami, desolation would, indeed, overwhelm me."
It was Itlza's voice, low and sorrowful, addressing her lover, who had improved the first favorable moment, after the army became settled in Tezcuco, to visit the villa, where he found Teochma prostrated with grief, and Itlza very sad, though supported by the expectation of an early visit from him.
"Despair not, O Laughing-eyes; Euetzin may yet find favor with the gods. He is not dead, or his body would have been found upon the battle field."
"It were better, Cacami, if he were dead; for, oh, what a fate awaits him, if he is a prisoner!" she replied, sorrowfully.
"Let us not think of that, but rather hope against such a fate, and for a little while rejoice that we are once more brought together."
"I do rejoice, Cacami, in your preservation, and that I have you with me again; but how can I forget, for one moment, my poor, unfortunate brother?"
"Do not forget him, Laughing-eyes, but be cheered by the hope that he is not lost."
"I will try, and you will help me by recounting of yourself. How do you rank in this hour of our people's triumph?" she questioned, with a supreme effort at rallying from her dejection.
"I have no particular rank as yet, Laughing-eyes, more than that of one of the prince's chief attendants. I stood with him through both battles, and we have come to be very good friends."
"I see that you have been decorated, but do not know the significance of the badges you wear. Tell me about them, Cacami."
"This decoration," he said, directing her attention to a beautifully constructed and highly ornamental badge, "was awarded me by Hualcoyotl for doing my duty—he called it valorous conduct in battle. I prize it above all else, for it tells me I am no longer unworthy of your love." Looking up at her fondly.
"Who but yourself ever thought you unworthy?" she quickly answered.
"It was enough that I should think so, Laughing-eyes, without consulting the thoughts of others."
"Well, I'm glad you have changed your mind, at any rate," she rejoined, in quite a happy vein. "But this other one, Cacami, what deed of bravery brought you that?" she continued, lifting from his breast a superbly finished medal.
"No deed of bravery brought me that, Itlza. It was won by skill; and is the price of a man's life."
"O, why did you tell me that?" interrupted she, dropping the blood bought bauble.
"Wait, Laughing-eyes, until you have heard the story; then you will not think so badly of it," he replied, in answer to her repellantly ejaculated question. "It was given me by Macua, king of Tlacopan, at the great tourney in token of his appreciation of my skill in throwing the javelin. I was not a contestant, but, notwithstanding, had occasion to use my weapon. It happened in this wise: In a bout between lancers a Tepanec warrior was bent on murdering his opponent after he had struck him down. When I saw his purpose I sprang to the defense of the fallen man, killing the would-be assassin with my javelin before he accomplished the foul deed. And know, O Laughing-eyes, the defeated lancer was a Tezcucan. Can you blame me for doing what the people applauded, and Macua rewarded?"
"No, Cacami, I can not blame you. I should have judged you better. The badge becomes you; wear it where Macua placed it, but only as his gift, forgetting it was won at such a cost."
"I felt sure you would not blame me for defending a fallen countryman, even at the cost of a foeman's life. He was a foeman, Laughing-eyes, a foeman of Tezcuco's, or why his bitter hatred for the warrior whom he had fairly defeated?"
"Yes, it must have been hatred that lead him on to his death; but, Cacami, such scenes are best forgotten; let us talk of something else."
"Shall we talk of love, then, Laughing-eyes?"
"Better that than of scenes of blood. Yes, let us talk of love. What of the troth, O Cacami, which was left unpledged until you, with your sword, should win honor and fame? Are you not a decorated warrior now?"
"Yes, Laughing-eyes, I am; but is it well to talk of pledges now? Had we not better wait? I am not less desirous than yourself to seal our love with the sacred kiss of troth; but, Itlza, your brother, the best friend I ever had, may yet be saved; and, should he be, I want him to know, and Teochma, your mother, too, before our pledge is sealed. Our love will keep, as it has in the past. Who knows, but ourselves, that we are lovers? And, since this is so, who may come between us?"
Ah, Cacami! if you had only known what lay beyond, we think you would hardly have plead for delay, though in doing so you showed an honorable disposition.
"Who, indeed, may come between us?" returned Itlza, in a spirit of concession. "It were honorable in you, Cacami, to be considerate of my mother and brother's pleasure in the matter of our troth. I should not be the one to urge it against your reason, nor will I. No; as you say, our love will keep."
While Cacami and Itlza, secure in their own minds as to a final and happy consummation of their dreams, were felicitous—though sad—in each other's society, Hualcoyotl sat alone in his palace apartments laying plans, which, if successfully carried out, would bring about their separation, and the frustration of their cherished hopes. And yet, he was ignorant of the fact that two lives were to be made unspeakably wretched by the course he was planning to pursue. He loved Itlza, but never stopped to think that she might love another; and, possibly, did not consider such a contingency of sufficient importance to require a serious thought; for was he not soon to be made a king, whose will would be law, even in the choice of a wife? His affection for his lost friend, and the sympathy he felt for the bereaved mother and sister awakened in his already predisposed mind thoughts of an immediate union with the latter, and he planned accordingly.
It was the custom of the ruling princes of the Anahuac, when a queen was to be chosen, to have the intended royal consort brought to the palace of the prospective royal groom, to receive such instructions as would fit her for the high position she would be called to fill. With this end in view, the prince decided that Itlza, with her mother as a chaperon, should be transferred to his palace at once. He was not yet a king, and had no authority to issue a command. What he did at this time was necessarily done by courtesy. When the power to command should be placed in his hands he would be less persuasive; before, however, his ends would have to be reached by the milder methods. The mother was accordingly apprised of his wishes, and asked to give them her immediate and favorable consideration.
Teochma was not aware, as the reader knows, that matters had gone so far with Itlza and Cacami as to reach an avowal of their attachment for each other; although she felt they were more devoted than they should be, since in her mother-heart had been fostered a hope that Itlza might yet fill the exalted position of Queen of Tezcuco. Attributing the prince's proposal to the right motive, she saw in it the possible consummation of her aspirations, and would not have been human had she not experienced a certain degree of elation at the prospect. She acceded to the proposition, and looked forward to her temporary establishment in the palace as but the entrance to her future exalted position of mother to the queen.
The ready acquiescence of Teochma to his wishes was very gratifying to the prince, and preparations for receiving his intended at the palace immediately followed.