Then one of the three began a harangue in a loud impressive voice. He said they were gathered to witness a sad and solemn but most important ceremony, decreed by the all-wise gods of their fathers. The former atkayma, the noble and wise Tcheltzada, a direct descendent of the gods, who had ruled the nation for many years, had finally met his fate fighting nobly against their enemies the Mopanes, who had beheaded him. By the command of the royal Datchapa a terrible revenge had been taken upon the murderers and the noble victim’s head and body had been recovered. These now lay at the foot of the pyramid on the funeral pyre, and in order to please and propitiate the gods, who had loved and cherished the great Tcheltzada, a number of strangers, including several of the hated white people, were to be slain and their blood sprinkled upon the ashes of the lamented atkayma. All this in honor not alone of the dead, but of his son the new Atkayma Chaka and his most holy brother, the wise and esteemed Datchapa, who as leader of the royal council had decreed the interesting ceremony that was about to take place.
I could see how cleverly the priests favored old Datchapa by giving him the credit of catering to the people’s hatred and lust for blood. It boded ill for Atkayma Chaka’s future that his wiley uncle practically controlled the powerful priesthood.
As the chief priest concluded his speech he turned about and asked:
“Who condemns these prisoners to the sacrifice?”
“I do,” answered a voice, as Datchapa stepped from behind a row of priests. “As head of the Royal Council of Itzlan I condemn these prisoners to be slain and their blood mingled with the ashes of Tcheltzada—if the gods consent to accept the tribute.”
At this all eyes were fixed upon an ugly little image of the god Bacáb, which was perched upon a shelf about midway up the front of the pyramid.
“Do the gods so consent?” demanded Chaka in a loud voice, taking his part in the ceremony.
The three priests knelt and stretched their arms toward the grinning Bacáb, and to my astonishment the image nodded its head in a very natural way.
“The gods consent!” cried aloud the three, in unison.
At that moment I saw Chaka protrude the nozzle of his electrite from his robe and point it at his uncle. Every other eye was at that instant turned intently upon the horrible figure of the god.