“They may be needed.”
“Ah! was it thought there is such danger? But look, see!” And Nenetzin drew back alarmed, yet laughing.
There was a crash outside, and a loud shout, and the palanquin stopped. Tula drew the curtain quickly, not knowing but that the peril requiring the soldiery was at hand. A vendor of little stone images,—teotls, or household gods,—unable to get out of the way, had been run upon by the slaves, and the pavement sprinkled with the broken heads and legs of the luckless lares. Aside, surveying the wreck, stood the pedler, clad as usual with his class. In his girdle he carried a mallet, significant of his trade. He was uncommonly tall, and of a complexion darker than the lowest slaves. While the commiserate princess observed him, he raised his eyes; a moment he stood uncertain what to do; then he stepped to the palanquin, and from the folds of his tunic drew an image elaborately carved upon the face of an agate.
“The good princess,” he said, bending so low as to hide his face, “did not laugh at the misfortune of her poor slave. She has a friendly heart, and is loved by every artisan in Tenochtitlan. This carving is of a sacred god, who will watch over and bless her, as I now do. If she will take it, I shall be glad.”
“It is very valuable, and maybe you are not rich,” she replied.
“Rich! When it is told that the princess Tula was pleased with a teotl of my carving, I shall have patrons without end. And if it were not so, the recollection will make me rich enough. Will she please me so much?”
She took from her finger a ring set with a jewel that, in any city of Europe, would have bought fifty such cameos, and handed it to him.
“Certainly; but take this from me. I warrant you are a gentle artist.”
The pedler took the gift, and kissed the pavement, and, after the palanquin was gone, picked up such of his wares as were uninjured, and went his way well pleased.
At the gate of the temple of Huitzil’ the three alighted, and made their way to the azoteas. The lofty place was occupied by pabas and citizens, yet a sun-shade of gaudy feather-work was pitched for them close by the eastern verge, overlooking the palace of Axaya’, and commanding the street up which the array was to come. In the area below, encompassed by the Coatapantli, or Wall of Serpents, ten thousand warriors were closely ranked, ready to march at beat of the great drum hanging in the tower. Thus, comfortably situated, the daughters of the king awaited the strangers.