And as they marched, the ensigns tossed to and fro; the priests sang monotonous canticles; the cymbalists danced and leaped joyously at the head of their companies; and the warriors in the ranks flung their shields aloft, and yelled their war-cries, as if drunk with happiness.
As the inundation of war swept around the palace, a cavalier raised his eyes to the temple.
“Valgame Dios!” he cried, in genuine alarm. “The levies of the valley are not enough. Lo, the legions of the air!”
On the azoteas where but the moment before only the ’tzin and Io’ were to be seen, there were hundreds of caparisoned warriors; and as the Christians looked at them, they all knelt, leaving but one man standing; simultaneously the companies on the street stopped, and, with those on the house-tops, hushed their yells, and turned up to him their faces countless and glistening.
“Who is he?” the cavaliers asked each other.
Cortes, cooler than the rest, turned to Marina: “Ask the princess Nenetzin if she knows him.”
And Nenetzin answered,—
“The ’tzin Guatamo.”
As the two chiefs surveyed each other in full recognition, down from the sky, as it were, broke an intonation so deep that the Christians were startled, and the women fled from the roof.
“Ola!” cried Alvarado, with a laugh. “I have heard that thunder before. Down with your visors, gentlemen, as ye care for the faces your mothers love!”