The heart of the young warrior beat violently; he touched the floor of the canoe with his palm.
And Tula spoke. “We have heard the minstrels sing the story. Arise, lord Hualpa.”
“The words of the noble Tula are pleasanter than any song. Will she hear the message I bring?”
She looked at Io’ and Nenetzin, and assented.
“Guatamozin salutes the noble Tula. He hopes the blessings of the gods are about her. He bade me say, that four mornings ago the king visited him at his palace, but talked of nothing but the strangers; so that the contract with Iztlil’, the Tezcucan, still holds good. Further, the king asked his counsel as to what should be done with the strangers. He advised war, whereupon the king became angry, and departed, saying that a courier would come for the ’tzin when his presence was wanted in the city; so the banishment also holds good. And so, finally, there is no more hope from interviews with the king. All that remains is to leave the cause to time and the gods.”
A moment her calm face was troubled; but she recovered, and said, with simple dignity,—
“I thank you. Is the ’tzin well and patient?”
“He is a warrior, noble Tula, and foemen are marching through the provinces, like welcome guests; he thinks of them, and curses the peace as a season fruitful of dishonor.”
Nenetzin, who had been quietly listening, was aroused.
“Has he heard the news? Does he not know a battle is to be fought in Cholula?”