Victory was won, and with it a crown, but at what a cost to Prince Hualcoyotl's mind, in the contemplation of the awful fate which he now felt awaited his best-beloved friend. Great as was the success achieved, he had no heart, in that supreme hour, for exultation. He bowed his head in sorrow for his lost friend, and, leaving the management of affairs to Ixtlilchoatl and his subordinates, retired to a spot where he could be alone, that he might wrestle with his deep mental distress.
Maxtla, realizing that his army was crushed beyond hope of immediate reconstruction, continued his flight by night, to get as far from the victorious allies as possible before the light of day should reveal to the country the crippled and demoralized condition of his army. No stop was made until he had passed around and beyond the city of Tezcuco into his own territory, where a bivouac was established, and his warriors given a rest. So far as it could be done, order in his shattered ranks was restored, and the march to his capital resumed and ended.
No acclamations or demonstrations of approval greeted the return of the imperial army to Azcapozalco. With solemn, funereal tread it entered the royal city, which soon became filled with a wail of woe ascending from the bereaved and stricken inhabitants, who mourned for the missing and slain. How different was its departure!
Maxtla did not despair under the greatly adverse conditions in which he found himself after his short and disastrous campaign, but immediately set about reorganizing his army, with a view to recovering his imperial standing. His domain embraced a thickly populated territory, and was not lacking in material from which to reconstruct his depleted forces. The outcome of it was that, in a very short time, he was better prepared for war than when he went forth to meet the allies.
The prisoners taken in the battles by his warriors were brought safely through, and, as was the custom, placed in confinement to await their doom of sacrifice upon the altars of the Tepanec deities.
Ixtlilchoatl, greatly elated over the successes which had so suddenly been achieved by the armies under him, and, having conceived the idea of giving Hualcoyotl a magnificent reception back to his own, began at once to get things in shape for a grand entry into Tezcuco. Then followed the memorable march to the city, which, we are told, was one continued ovation to the returning prince. "He entered his capital," says the chronicler, "not like a proscribed outcast, but as the rightful heir to a throne, receiving, at the same time, the homage of his joyful subjects." His triumph was complete, but, with it all, there was an aching void in his heart: his enemy had escaped, and carried with him, as he supposed, the best of all his friends.
He was back in his palace, surrounded by the men who had stood with him in the fierce and deadly conflicts through which he was compelled to pass to reach it. Ix, the warrior hermit, whose intelligence and sagacity had directed the army to victory; Macua and his princely consorts; Tezcot, the wise hunter and good friend; Cacami, now a warrior whose undoubted bravery and skill were conspicuously shown in more than one furious encounter, and which were fully appreciated by the prince; and Menke, Oza and Kan, and many others who have held no particular place in our narrative, yet worthy of it when valorous deeds are considered, were there engaged in celebrating, in an enthusiastic manner, the event of their lives—the victorious close of a remarkable conflict.
Now, indeed, was Tezcuco free from Tepanec enthrallment, her people restored to their ancient privileges, and her prince brought back from an outlawed condition to the enjoyment of his inherited rights.
The power of the military immediately supervened, but its rule was not oppressive, for Ix, the hermit, was not a tyrant.
The greatest activity in all things suddenly became apparent. The king's palace quickly became a scene of rustling animation. While artisans were laboring to restore it to its ancient splendor, the prince and his attendants were busily engaged in bringing order out of chaos. Ah, how he missed his two best friends, Euetzin and Itzalmo, in that hour of incipient well-being and future greatness!