Heart of the World

by H. Rider Haggard

Now Tikal descended from the throne and bowed before her, saying, “I swear to you, Maya——”

“No, do not swear,” she broke in, “but give me and my friends here a cup of wine and some fragments from your wedding-feast, for we are hungry. I thank you. How beautiful is that bride’s robe which Nahua wears, and—surely—those emeralds were once my own. Well, let her take them from me as a wedding-gift. Make room, I pray you, Tikal, and suffer these ladies to tell me of their tidings, for remember that I have wandered far, and it is pleasant to see faces that are dear to me.”

For awhile we sat and ate, or made pretence to eat, while Maya talked thus lightly and all that company watched us, for we were wonderful in their eyes, who never till now had seen a white man. Indeed, the sight of the señor, auburn-haired, long-bearded, and white-skinned, was so marvellous to them, that, unlike the common people, they forgot their courtesy and crowded round him in their amazement. Still, there were two who took small note of the señor or of me, and these were Tikal, who gazed at Maya as he stood behind her chair serving her like some waiting slave, and Nahua his wife, who sat silent and neglected on her throne, sullenly noting his every word and gesture. At length she could bear this play no longer, but, rising from her seat, began to move down the chamber.

“Make room for the bride, ladies,” said Maya. “Cousin, good-night, it grows late, and your wife awaits you.”

Then, muttering I know not what, Tikal turned and went, and side by side the pair walked down the great hall, followed by their guard of soldiers.

“How beautiful is the bride, and how brave the groom!” said Maya, as she watched them go, “and yet I have seen couples that looked happier on their wedding-day. Well, it is time to rest. Friends, good-night. Mattai, I leave these strangers in your keeping. Guard them well—and, stay, bring them to my apartments to-morrow after they have eaten, for if it is my father’s will, I would show them something of the city before the hour of noon, when we meet upon the temple-top.”

When she had gone, Mattai bowed to us with much ceremony and begged us to follow him, which we did, across the courtyard and through many passages, to a beautiful chamber, dimly lighted with silver lamps, that had been made ready for us. Here were beds covered with silken wrappings, and on a table in the centre of the room cool drinks and many sorts of fruits, but so tired were we that we took little note of these things.

Bidding good-night to Mattai, who looked at us curiously and announced that he would visit us early in the morning, we made fast the copper bolts upon the door and threw ourselves upon the beds.

Weary as I was, I could not sleep in this strange place, and when, from time to time, my eyes closed, the sound of feet passing without our chamber door roused me again to wakefulness. Of one thing I was sure, that Zibalbay was not wanted here in his own city, and that there would be trouble on the morrow when he told his tale to the people, for certainly Tikal would not suffer himself easily to be thrust from the place he had usurped, and he had many friends. Doubtless it was their feet that I heard outside the door as they hurried to and fro from the chamber where Mattai sat taking counsel with them. What would be our fate, I wondered, in this struggle for power that must come? These people feared strangers—so much I could read in their faces—and doubtless they would be rid of us if they might. Well, we had a good friend in Maya, and the rest we must leave to Providence.

Thinking thus, at length I fell asleep, to be awakened by the voice of the señor, who was sitting upon the edge of his bed, singing a song and looking round the chamber, for now the daylight streamed through the lattices. I wished him good-morrow, and asked him why he sang.