CHAPTER XXXVII.
We pass over the ceremonies which made Hualcoyotl a king, except to say that the occasion was of an exceptional character, and one that could take place only under conditions in which barbaric ideas of pomp and splendor are brought into operation in the achievement of a climax at once imposing and ostentatious. Many of the nobility from the surrounding principalities were present to witness the grand pageant, among whom was the Aztec monarch, one of the line from which sprang the first and second Montezumas—possibly Itzcoatl, a son of the first. He was there not only as a witness of the pageantry, but to congratulate his young kinsman, the Prince of Tezcuco, on his accession to the throne of his ancestors; and, also—we may further presume—to seek an immediate alliance with him for the purpose of waging a war of extermination against Maxtla, whose arbitrary and insolent conduct had so wrought upon the feelings of the Mexican prince that he had resolved, with the help of his neighbor, to destroy the power and influence of the Tepanec dynasty forever, by its complete subversion.
Hualcoyotl could not be assured of a continued and uninterrupted reign so long as his powerful and mortal enemy was permitted to exercise his despotic and aggressive disposition, and readily consented to join his royal cousin, of Tenochtitlan, in a crusade against him.
The first business of the new king, however, was the organization of his governmental household—the selection of his chief officials who should comprise his privy council. In filling the most exalted positions, he remembered those who had been his personal friends when friendship was at a premium with him. Itzalmo was made his chief counselor, Ixtlilchoatl his chief war officer, and Euetzin his chief officer of state. In the latter he invested unusual authority, placing in his charge all matters of a tribal character. Cacami was not forgotten, but, by his own expressed wish, assigned to an important position in the army, near the person of Ixtlilchoatl.
Tezcot and Menke, who were in attendance at the ceremony of enthronement, were pressed to unite their destiny with Tezcuco, but, preferring a life in the mountains to one of luxury at the capital of their newly acquired friends, declined to do so. This the appreciative prince regretted, for he was anxious to express his gratitude, in some substantial manner, for the friendship they had shown him when he was an outlawed wanderer—which he could do best by making them favored retainers in his official retinue.
Hualcoyotl was not too busy to think of carrying out his purpose of making Itlza his queen, and now, that he was a king, sought, without delay, an opportunity in which to communicate to her his intentions.
The extensive conservatory, connected with the palace, of which previous mention has been made, was a favorite retreat of Itzla's, which the prince had discovered, and here he determined to find and acquaint her with his designs.
At a certain hour on each day, in the afternoon, it was her custom to go into this pleasant and retired place alone. That she remained unaccompanied while there may be doubted, however, since Cacami spent much of his time at the palace.
On an afternoon only a few days subsequent to the crowning of the prince, Itlza entered the conservatory with light and eager step. Her face was brightened by a joyous gleaming which beamed from her beautiful laughing eyes, and there was upon it an expression of expectancy, as if some pleasurable event was anticipated and near at hand. She hummed, in monotone, a droll little theme of native music, as she moved about the place on pleasure bent.
Although the work of restoration had been commenced, and the erstwhile beauty of the once enchanting resort had begun to reassert itself; still, traces of neglect, which had been permitted to creep over and mar a former perfection of arrangement, were present in the conservatory to disenchant the esthetical beholder. Yet, to a person who might have been suspected of only seeking a means whereby to gain an end, as in Itlza's case, the imperfection was of little consequence.
Presently, and without notice to the happy dreamer, she was brought face to face with Hualcoyotl, who had come upon her unobserved. She greeted him courteously, yet was slightly confused and uneasy, as if a pleasant anticipation had suddenly been broken in on.
"Will you be seated, Itlza?" said he, graciously, directing her to a low bench a little distance away. "I have something of interest—at least of interest to me, and which ought to be to yourself—to say to you."
What could the surprised and disquieted maiden do but comply? A request from Hualcoyotl was to her a command, and she permitted herself to be conducted to the bench. When she was seated, he continued:
"Are you happy, Itlza, in this palace home of mine?"
"Your home is very enjoyable, and will be beautiful and full of pleasantness when you are through with its improvement. I would be very unappreciative not to enjoy it to the extent of being happy," she replied, wondering to what the question would lead.
"Yes, my home will be beautiful; but, Itlza, it will be like the cage of a bird, the one occupant of which is without a mate," he returned, looking at her with an expression of fondness, which, when she raised her eyes inquiringly to his, she did not fail to comprehend. She became much disturbed, but thought she must say something, and spoke as follows:
"The King of Tezcuco need not be long without a mate; for there is many a charming cihuatl (woman) who would be pleased to come into his palace home to reign as queen. He has only to command, and the most beautiful princesses in all the Anahuac will be his to choose from."
"Itlza, have you forgotten the hours, long ago, when a lad and little lass played and romped over the hills of Zelmonco?" he questioned. "If you have forgotten, I am sorry; for I have not. Blissfully ignorant were we then," he went on, "of the sorrows and griefs of the future; and happy in our innocent simplicity, thinking only of the joys and pleasures of an artless childhood."
"No, I have not forgotten. Those were, indeed, happy times," she replied, a frightened look covering her face.
"In those times, Itlza, I thought of you as my future mate, and now that I am a man, with wisdom to choose, I would verify those boyish dreams by making you my queen. You will fill that place in my heart, as well as in my palace, as no other can, though she were the greatest princess of Anahuac; for, Itlza, I love you." He paused an instant to watch the effect of his declaration. "I would have you come to me," he continued, "not by command, but by choice. Will you be my queen, Itlza?"
The graveness of the situation now dawned upon her mind with a terrible force—Hualcoyotl had chosen her to be his queen. She was dumbfounded, and consternation was depicted on her face. She did not dare to look up. The prince, after waiting a moment for a reply, again spoke:
"You are silent, Itlza; have you nothing to say for the honor I am about to confer upon you?"
Recovering herself sufficiently to speak, she said, in a scared tone of voice:
"Your proposal, O Hualcoyotl, has come upon me so suddenly that I am confused; I was not expecting it. What says Teochma, my mother?"
"That Itlza shall be Queen of Tezcuco," he replied, piquantly, being disappointed and displeased with her reception of his proposal.
"It is all so sudden, so startling, I am overwhelmed with confusion. You will, I'm sure, O noblest of friends, give me time to think?" she questioned, hoping to secure a respite, if only for a little time, that she might become reconciled to the inevitable, if such a thing were possible.
"Yes, I will give you time, Itlza—a few days, but I may not be disappointed, for I have set my heart upon making you Queen of Tezcuco—my queen."
Unobserved by the prince and Itlza, another person, a man, entered the conservatory, hurriedly and expectantly, but, on coming near to where they were, he heard the sound of someone talking, which caused him to stop and listen. His position was screened from observation by foliage, and, had he been so disposed, he might have remained an unseen listener to what followed, but he did not. He recognized the prince's voice, and, although he could not see her, he felt sure it was Itlza he was speaking to. He caught the words, "for I have set my heart upon making you Queen of Tezcuco—my queen," and they fell upon his ear like the crack of a fearful doom. He waited to hear no more, but quickly turned away and left the place as hurriedly as he had entered it.
Itlza gathered herself together for a final plea, and said:
"I would not seem unkind or unappreciative toward the dear friend of my childhood, whom I esteem above all men, and look upon almost as one of my own blood. You are like a brother to me, noble Hualcoyotl, but not like a lover."
"You will yet learn to love me, Itlza. You shall remain in my palace, and I will teach you," he rejoined, persuasively.
"Is there not someone else, O prince, more worthy and lovable than I, who would be pleased to become your queen, whose love might be had for the asking?" she pleaded, paying no attention to his persuasive tones.
Hualcoyotl was inexorable. He had resolved on a purpose, and was not to be dissuaded from pursuing it to the end. He said decidedly:
"The King of Tezcuco may find others to love him, but not another to be his queen. You, O Itlza, my first and only love, shall fill that place. I am king—my word is law. I have said it. Be wise, O Itlza, in this matter, and study to become the chief lady of the nation." As he finished speaking he knelt on one knee, took her hand and pressed it to his forehead—a mode of affectionate salutation, the kiss being reserved for those who were endeared—after which action he turned away, leaving her to the terrible realization of the hopelessness of her love for Cacami, and the certainty of a compulsory marriage with him, which death alone could prevent.
She was now alone, in the saddest sense, with no eye to witness the anguish of soul with which she was stricken, and to which she now gave away. Throwing herself prostrate upon the ground she forgot all else but her crushed hopes, and moaned in the agony of despair. She did not realize the quick approach and presence of the one for the love of whom she was now caused to suffer. He stood over her for a moment, contemplating her agony, while on his face was unmistakable evidence of great distress of mind. Though strong in his manhood, he could not entirely restrain his feelings, and could not have been expected to while his breast was being torn by a tempest of conflicting emotions. He presently kneeled at her side, and called softly:
"Itlza!" At the sound of her name on her loved one's lips she arose, and, throwing herself into his arms, cried in accents of unutterable woe:
"Cacami! Cacami!"
The lovers had arranged for a meeting in the conservatory, and Itlza, happy in the anticipation of an hour of sweet converse with her beloved, had come to fulfill her tryst, and, as we have seen, was met by the prince. Just when the latter, with mind wholly absorbed in the object which had brought him to the conservatory, was becoming impatient and imperative in his language at the unexpected evidence of a disinclination on the part of the former to look with favor upon his proposal to honor her above all other women, and she, too much frightened to think of anything save the terrible fact that her anticipations of a happy future with him she loved were about to be shipwrecked—forever swept away—Cacami, unheard by them, came upon the ground in the joyful expectation of soon meeting the object of his love. On discovering that Hualcoyotl was there ahead of him, talking with Itlza, and learning the significance of his presence from the few words which reached him, he was overwhelmed with amazement at the disclosure. He could not in honor remain to hear another word, so, quickly turning on his heel, withdrew.
The hopelessness of his suit with Itlza was at once apparent to the astounded lover; a king stood between them, and, according to law—an established fiat, especially favorable to rulers to protect them in their family relations, particularly in the choice of a wife—death would be the consequence should he marry her, or even persist in meeting her clandestinely and be detected in it.
It would have been different had he made Itlza his affianced previous to her coming to the palace, even without the knowledge of the mother and brother; and possibly afterward had he anticipated the prince; but now his chance was gone; and, O, how he regretted the delay. No one, save themselves, knew that they were lovers, so closely had they guarded their secret; and since no pledge of troth had been exchanged, they must bide the result.
How could he give her up? The more he reflected on the matter, the greater became his distress of mind. He did not for a moment think of Itlza as a willing listener to the king's proposal to make her his queen, and he resolved to return to the conservatory so soon as his royal rival should depart from it, to condole with her, which he did, only to find her in the throes of an utter hopelessness. Their discovery of each other, so full of woebegoneness, has been noted.
The despairing maiden clung to her lover, pleadingly, as if he might have saved her from her impending fate. He held her to his breast in a close embrace, and if endearing words and passionate kisses—the first he had dared to bestow—could have effected a relief to her overwrought feelings, they must have found it in his.
"You must not be torn from me thus," he said, passionately, after she had explained, between sobs and moans, how determined the prince was in his purpose. "No, dear, sorrowing Laughing-eyes, death alone shall separate us."
"What, indeed, O Cacami, but death or submission is left for both of us," moaned the hapless maiden.
"You put it well and true, Itlza. I had not thought of death for you; I was thinking only of myself; but, alas! the result will be the same for both of us. I should not ask of you so great a sacrifice. No, my poor, lorne love, I must give you up."
"You shall not give me up, Cacami! Let it be mine to choose whether I will wear a crown, or cleave to you at the risk of death. It will be no fault of yours, then, if I should choose to die," she answered, determinedly.
"What can I say? If I alone were held responsible I could quickly choose; but you, poor darling, must suffer too."
"If you can suffer for the love of me, why not I for a like reason? Is my love less powerful than yours, that I am a woman? Cacami, you shall not choose to cast me off, even if it be to save my life. The choice, I pray you, shall be mine."
"Then, if you will, choose wisely, Laughing-eyes; remembering that a crown and the love of a noble man are on one hand, while on the other are only Cacami and death."
"Yes, I will choose between you—the good king and Cacami—but it will not be to trample on my love—my heart. No, not for a crown at the hands of so good a man as Hualcoyotl," she answered, earnestly. Continuing, she said: "I would not lead you to death, O Cacami, my love; yet, I choose to go with you, even to that end."
"Then be it so; we will stand or fall together," he returned, holding her in a closer embrace.
An idea at this instant occurred to Itlza, and, gathering a little courage from it, she said:
"Why may we not escape to another country, Cacami, or to the mountains—anywhere, so we be not separated?"
"Hualcoyotl would find us though we were hidden in the fastness of the farthest mountain. No, Laughing-eyes, there is hope only in marriage, and the kindness of the court which shall try us; otherwise it must be separation or death," he replied, despondingly.
"Then, let us wed. I will be your bride, though it be unto death," she said, creeping closer to him.
"If you so decide, thus it shall be, my brave Laughing-eyes. We will wed, and, if need be, die together."
"I vow to you, O Cacami, that naught but death shall part us, and, since thus to you I give my pledge, I pray you bind it with the seal of troth," she said, trustingly, putting up her carmine-tinted lips to receive the kiss which was to seal the sacred compact. Their lips met, and two souls were united unto death by one prolonged, loving embrace, from which they drew calmness—the calmness which is found in the strength of a plighted faith, made enduring by the kiss, which, to them, was a seal, indissoluble except by death.