There was much laughter, in which the chief joined. Then he said, gravely,—
“The king has arranged everything. As advised by the gods, Malinche enters Tenochtitlan day after to-morrow. He will leave Iztapalapan at sunrise, and march to the causeway by the lake shore. Cuitlahua, with Cacama, the lord of Tecuba, and others of like importance, will meet him at Xoloc. The king will follow them in state. As to the procession, I will only say it were ill to lose the sight. Such splendor was never seen on the causeway.”
Ordinarily the mention of such a prospect would have kindled the liveliest enthusiasm; for the Aztecs were lovers of spectacles, and never so glad as when the great green banner of the Empire was brought forth to shed its solemn beauty over the legions, and along the storied street of Tenochtitlan. Much, therefore, was Maxtla surprised at the coldness that fell upon the company.
“Ho, friends! One would think the reception not much to your liking,” he said.
“We are the king’s,—dust under his feet,—and it is not for us to murmur,” said a sturdy cacique, first to break the disagreeable silence. “Yet our fathers gave their enemies bolts instead of banquets.”
“Who may disobey the gods?” asked Maxtla.
The argument was not more sententious than unanswerable.
“Well, well!” said Hualpa. “I will get ready. Advise me, good chief: had I better take a canoe?”
“The procession will doubtless be better seen from the lake; but to hear what passes between the king and Malinche, you should be in the train. By the way, will the ’tzin be present?”
“As the king may order,” replied Hualpa.