“Indeed!” said Tecalco, opening her eyes.
“He too has changed, as you may have observed,” continued Acatlan. “He used to be gay and talkative, fond of company, and dance; latterly, he stays at home, and when abroad, mopes, and is silent; while we all know that no great private or public misfortune has happened him. The king appears to have noticed it. And, my dear sister,”—the queen lowered her voice to a confidential whisper,—“they say the ’tzin aspires to the throne.”
“What! Do you believe it? Does the king?” cried Tecalco, more in anger than surprise.
“I believe nothing yet, though there are some grounds for his accusers to go upon. They say he entertains at his palace near Iztapalapan none but men of the army, and that while in Tenochtitlan, he studies the favor of the people, and uses his wealth to win popularity with all classes. Indeed, Tecalco, somehow the king learned that, on the day of the celebration of Quetzal’, the ’tzin was engaged in a direct conspiracy against him.”
“It is false, Acatlan, it is false! The king has not a more faithful subject. I know the ’tzin. He is worth a thousand of the Tezcucan, who is himself the traitor.” And the vexed queen beat the floor with her sandalled foot.
“As to that, Tecalco, I know nothing. But what more from the king?”
“He told me that Tula should never marry the ’tzin; he would use all his power against it; he would banish him from the city first. And his rage increased until, finally, he swore by the gods he would order a banquet, and, in presence of all the lords of the Empire, publicly betroth Tula and the Tezcucan. He said he would do anything the safety of the throne and the gods required of him. He never was so angry. And that, O Acatlan, my sister, that is my trouble. How can I save my child from such a horrid betrothal?”
Acatlan shook her head gloomily. “The king brooks defeat better than opposition. We would not be safe to do anything openly. I acknowledge myself afraid, and unable to advise you.”
Tecalco burst into tears, and wrung her hands, overcome by fear and rage. Io’ then left his game, and came to her. He was not handsome, being too large for his years, and ungraceful; this tendency to homeliness was increased by the smallness of his face and head; the features were actually childish.
“Say no more, mother,” he said, tears standing in his eyes, as if to prove his sympathy and kindliness. “You know it would be better to play with the tigers than stir the king to anger.”