He spoke imperiously, and the monarch obeyed. Then, disturbed only by the chiming of the fountain, and sometimes by the whistling of the birds, Tecetl began, and softly, brokenly, unconsciously told of the massacre in the holy city of Cholula. Not a question was asked her. There was little prompting aloud. Much did the king marvel, never once doubted he.
“The sky is very clear,” said Tecetl. “I rise into the air; I leave the city in the lake, and the lake itself; now the mountains are below me. Lo, another city! I descend again; the azoteas of a temple receives me; around are great houses. Who are these I see? There, in front of the temple, they stand, in lines; even in the shade their garments glisten. They have shields; some bear long lances, some sit on strange animals that have eyes of fire and ring the pavement with their stamping.”
“Does the king understand?” asked Mualox.
“She describes the strangers,” was the reply.
And Tecetl resumed. “There is one standing in the midst of a throng; he speaks, they listen. I cannot repeat his words, or understand them, for they are not like ours. Now I see his face, and it is white; his eyes are black, and his cheeks bearded; he is angry; he points to the city around the temple, and his voice grows harsh, and his face dark.”
The king approached a step, and whispered, “Malinche!”
But Mualox replied with flashing eyes, “The servant knows his god; it is Quetzal’!”
“He speaks, I listen,” Tecetl continued, after a rest, and thenceforth her sentences were given at longer intervals. “Now he is through; he waves his hand, and the listeners retire, and go to different quarters; in places they kindle fires; the gates are open, and some station themselves there.”
“Named she where this is happening?” asked Montezuma.
“She describes the strangers; and are they not in Cholula, O king? She also spoke of the azoteas of a temple—”