The king reflected.
“Is it not war?” the cacique persisted.
The hand fell down, and closed upon the signet.
“The demand is just, and will not be refused. Take the ring, my brother; we will at least test Malinche’s disposition. Say to him that the lord Iztlil’ is a traitor; that he is conspiring against me; and that I require his person for punishment. So say to him; but go not yet. The messenger I await may bring me something to make your mission unnecessary.”
The cacique smiled grimly. “If the Tezcucan is guilty, so is Malinche,” he said. “Is it well to tell him what you know?”
“Yes. He will then be careful; at least, he will not be deceived.”
“Be it so,” said Cuitlahua, taking the ring. “I will bring you his answer; then—”
“Bear with me, O king. The subject I now wish to speak of is a tender one, though I know not why. To win the good-will of the Tezcucan, was not Guatamozin, our nephew, banished the city?”
“Well?”