“Beware!” said the king, and the warning was in time. “Beware! Not here, not now!”
The ’tzin turned to him with a quick, anxious look of inquiry; a revulsion of feeling ensued; he arose, and said, with bowed head, “I understand. O king, if we help not ourselves, we are lost. ‘Not here, not now.’ I catch the permission.” Pointing to Avila, he added, “This man’s life is in my hands, but I pass it by; thine, O uncle, is the most precious. We will punish these insolents, but not here; we will give you rescue, but not now. Be of cheer.”
He stepped aside, and the melancholy cortege passed on, leaving the lords and people and the empire, as represented by them, in the dust. Before the teocallis, under the eyes of Cuitlahua, within hailing distance of the ten thousand warriors, the doughty cavaliers bore their prize unchallenged.
And through the gates of the old palace, through the files of Spaniards in order of battle waiting, they also carried what they thought was the empire, won without a blow, to be parcelled at pleasure,—its lands, its treasure, its cities, and its people.
BOOK SIX.
CHAPTER I
THE LORD HUALPA FLEES HIS FORTUNE
The ’tzin Guatamo sat at breakfast alone in his palace near Iztapalapan. The fare was simple,—a pheasant, bread of maize, oranges and bananas, and water from the spring; and the repast would have been soon despatched but for the announcement, by a slave in waiting, of the lord Hualpa. At mention of the name the ’tzin’s countenance assumed a glad expression.
“The lord Hualpa! The gods be praised! Bid him come.”