GUATAMOZIN inherited a great fortune, ducal rank,
and an estate near Iztapalapan. Outside the city,
midst a garden that extended for miles around, stood his
palace, built in the prevalent style, one story high, but broad

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and wide enough to comfortably accommodate several thousand
men. His retainers, a legion in themselves, inhabited
it for the most part; and whether soldier, artisan, or farmer,
each had his quarters, his exclusive possession as against
every one but the 'tzin.

The garden was almost entirely devoted to the cultivation
of fruits and flowers. Hundreds of slaves, toiling there
constantly under tasteful supervision, made and kept it
beautiful past description. Rivulets of pure water, spanned
by bridges and bordered with flowers, ran through every
part over beds of sand yellow as gold. The paths frequently
led to artificial lagoons, delightful for the coolness
that lingered about them, when the sun looked with his
burning eye down upon the valley; for they were fringed
with willow and sycamore trees, all clad with vines as with
garments; and some were further garnished with little
islands, plumed with palms, and made attractive by kiosks.
Nor were these all. Fountains and cascades filled the air
with sleepy songs; orange-groves rose up, testifying to the
clime they adorned; and in every path small teules, on
pedestals of stone, so mingled religion with the loveliness
that there could be no admiration without worship.

Io' and Hualpa, marvelling at the beauty they beheld,
pursued a path, strewn with white sand, and leading across
the garden, to the palace. A few armed men loitered about
the portal, but allowed them to approach without question.
From the antechamber they sent their names to the 'tzin,
and directly the slave returned with word to Io' to follow
him.

The study into which the prince was presently shown was
furnished with severe plainness. An arm-chair, if such it
may be called, some rude tables and uncushioned benches,
offered small encouragement to idleness.

Sand, glittering like crushed crystal, covered the floor,

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and, instead of tapestry, the walls were hung with maps of
the Empire, and provinces the most distant. Several piles
of MSS., — the books of the Aztecs, — with parchment and
writing-materials, lay on a table; and half concealed amongst
them was a harp, such as we have seen in the hands of the
royal minstrels.

“Welcome, Io', welcome!” said the 'tzin, in his full voice.
“You have come at length, after so many promises, —
come last of all my friends. When you were here before,
you were a child, and I a boy like you now. Let us go and
talk it over.” And leading him to a bench by a window,
they sat down.

“I remember the visit,” said Io'. “It was many years
ago. You were studying then, and I find you studying yet.”

A serious thought rose to the 'tzin's mind, and his smile
was clouded.

“You do not understand me, Io'. Shut up in your father's
palace, your life is passing too dreamily. The days with
you are like waves of the lake: one rolls up, and, scarcely
murmuring, breaks on the shore; another succeeds, — that
is all. Hear, and believe me. He who would be wise
must study. There are many who live for themselves, a
few who live for their race. Of the first class, no thought
is required; they eat, sleep, are merry, and die, and have no
hall in heaven: but the second must think, toil, and be
patient; they must know, and, if possible, know everything.
God and ourselves are the only sources of knowledge. I
would not have you despise humanity, but all that is
from ourselves is soon learned. There is but one inexhaustible
fountain of intelligence, and that is Nature, the
God Supreme. See those volumes; they are of men, full
of wisdom, but nothing original; they are borrowed from
the book of deity, — the always-opened book, of which the
sky is one chapter, and earth the other. Very deep are the

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lessons of life and heaven there taught. I confess to you,
Io', that I aspire to be of those whose lives are void of selfishness,
who live for others, for their country. Your father's
servant, I would serve him understandingly; to do so, I
must be wise; and I cannot be wise without patient study.”

Io's unpractised mind but half understood the philosophy
to which he listened; but when the 'tzin called himself his
father's servant, Acatlan's words recurred to the boy.

“O 'tzin,” he said, “they are not all like you, so good, so
true. There have been some telling strange stories about you
to the king.”

“About me?”

“They say you want to be king,” — the listener's face
was passive, — “and that on Quetzal's day you were looking
for opportunity to attack my father.” Still there was no sign
of emotion. “Your staying at home, they say, is but a pretence
to cover your designs.”

“And what more, Io'?”

“They say you are taking soldiers into your pay; that
you give money, and practise all manner of arts, to become
popular in Tenochtitlan; and that your delay in entering the
arena on the day of the combat had something to do with
your conspiracy.”

For a moment the noble countenance of the 'tzin was disturbed.

“A lying catalogue! But is that all?”

“No,” — and Io's voice trembled, — “I am a secret messenger
from the queen Tecalco, my mother. She bade me
say to you, that last night Iztlil', the Tezcucan, had audience
with the king, and asked Tula for his wife.”

Guatamozin sprang from his seat more pallid than ever in
battle.

“And what said Montezuma?”

“This morning he came to the queen, my mother, and told

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her about it; on your account she objected; but he became
angry, spoke harshly of you, and swore Tula should not wed
with you; he would banish you first.”

Through the silent cell the 'tzin strode gloomily; the blow
weakened him. Mualox was wrong; men cannot make themselves
almost gods; by having many ills, and bearing them
bravely, they can only become heroes. After a long struggle
he resumed his calmness and seat.

“What more from the queen?”

“Only, that as she was helpless, she left everything to
you. She dares not oppose the king.”

“I understand!” exclaimed the 'tzin, starting from the
bench again. “The Tezcucan is my enemy. Crossing the
lake, night before the combat, he told me he loved Tula, and
charged me with designs against the Empire, and cursed the
king and his crown. Next day he fought under my challenge.
The malice of a mean soul cannot be allayed by kindness.
But for me the tamanes would have buried him with
the Tlascalans. I sent him to my house; my slaves tended
him; yet his hate was only sharpened.”

He paced the floor to and fro, speaking vehemently.

“The ingrate charges me with aspiring to the throne. Judge
me, holy gods! Judge how willingly I would lay down my
life to keep the crown where it is! He says my palace has
been open to men of the army. It was always so, — I am a
warrior. I have consulted them about the Empire, but
always as a subject, never for its ill. Such charges I
laugh at; but that I sought to slay the king is too horrible
for endurance. On the day of the combat, about the time of
the assemblage, I went to the Cû of Quetzal' for blessing. I
saw no smoke or other sign of fire upon the tower. Mualox
was gone, and I trembled lest the fire should be dead. I
climbed up, and found only a few living embers. There
were no fagots on the roof, nor in the court-yard; the shrine

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was abandoned, Mualox old. The desolation appealed to
me. The god seemed to claim my service. I broke my
spear and shield, and flung the fragments into the urn, then
hastened to the palace, loaded some tamanes with wood, and
went back to the Cû. I was not too late there; but, hurrying
to the tianguez, I found myself almost dishonored. So was
I kept from the arena; that service to the god is now helping
my enemy as proof that I was waiting on a housetop to murder
my king and kinsman! Alas! I have only slaves to bear
witness to the holy work that kept me on the temple. Much
I fear the gods are making the king blind for his ruin and
the ruin of us all. He believes the strangers on the coast
are from the Sun, when they are but men. Instead of war
against them, he is thinking of embassies and presents. Now,
more than ever, he needs the support of friends; but he divides
his family against itself, and confers favors on enemies.
I see the danger. Unfriendly gods are moving against us,
not in the strangers, but in our own divisions. Remember
the prophecy of Mualox, `The race of Azatlan is ended forever.
'”

The speaker stopped his walking, and his voice became
low and tremulous.

“Yet I love him; he has been kind; he gave me command;
through his graciousness I have dwelt unmolested in
this palace of my father. I am bound to him by love and law.
As he has been my friend, I will be his; when his peril is
greatest, I will be truest. Nothing but ill from him to Anahuac
can make me his enemy. So, so, — let it pass. I trust
the future to the gods.”

Then, as if seeking to rid himself of the bitter subject, he
turned to Io'. “Did not some one come with you?”

The boy told what he knew of Hualpa.

“I take him to be no common fellow; he has some proud
ideas. I think you would like him.”

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“I will try your hunter, Io'. And if he is what you say
of him, I will accept his service.”

And they went immediately to the antechamber, where
Hualpa saluted the 'tzin. The latter surveyed his fine person
approvingly, and said, “I am told you wish to enter my service.
Were you ever in battle?”

The hunter told his story with his wonted modesty.

“Well, the chase is a good school for warriors. It trains
the thews, teaches patience and endurance, and sharpens the
spirit's edge. Let us to the garden. A hand to retain
skill must continue its practice; like a good memory, it is
the better for exercise. Come, and I will show you how I
keep prepared for every emergency of combat.” And so saying,
the 'tzin led the visitors out.

They went to the garden, followed by the retainers lounging
at the door. A short walk brought them to a space surrounded
by a copse of orange-trees, strewn with sand, and
broad enough for a mock battle; a few benches about the
margin afforded accommodation to spectators; a stone house
at the northern end served for armory, and was full of arms
and armor. A glance assured the visitors that the place had
been prepared expressly for training. Some score or more
of warriors, in the military livery of the 'tzin, already occupied
a portion of the field. Upon his appearance they
quitted their games, and closed around him with respectful
salutations.

“How now, my good Chinantlan!” he said, pleasantly.
“Did I not award you a prize yesterday? There are few in
the valley who can excel you in launching the spear.”

“The plume is mine no longer,” replied the warrior. “I
was beaten last night. The winner, however, is a countryman.”

“A countryman! You Chinantlans seem born to the
spear. Where is the man?”

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The victor stepped forward, and drew up before the master,
who regarded his brawny limbs, sinewy neck, and
bold eyes with undisguised admiration; so an artist would
regard a picture or a statue. Above the fellow's helm floated
a plume of scarlet feathers, the trophy of his superior skill.

“Get your spear,” said the 'tzin. “I bring you a competitor.”

The spear was brought, an ugly weapon in any hand. The
head was of copper, and the shaft sixteen feet long. The
rough Chinantlan handled it with a loving grip.

“Have you such in Tihuanco?” asked Guatamozin.

Hualpa balanced the weapon and laughed.

“We have only javelins, — mere reeds to this. Unless
to hold an enemy at bay, I hardly know its use. Certainly,
it is not for casting.”

“Set the mark, men. We will give the stranger a lesson.
Set it to the farthest throw.”

A pine picket was then set up a hundred feet away, presenting
a target of the height and breadth of a man, to
which a shield was bolted breast-high from the sand.

“Now give the Chinantlan room!”

The wearer of the plume took his place; advancing one
foot, he lifted the spear above his head with the right hand,
poised it a moment, then hurled it from him, and struck the
picket a palm's breadth below the shield.

“Out, out!” cried the 'tzin. “Bring me the spear; I
have a mind to wear the plume myself.”

When it was brought him, he cast it lightly as a child
would toss a weed; yet the point drove clanging through the
brazen base of the shield, and into the picket behind. Amid
the applause of the sturdy warriors he said to Hualpa, —

“Get ready; the hunter must do something for the honor
of his native hills.”

“I cannot use a spear in competition with Guatamozin,”

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said Hualpa, with brightening eyes; “but if he will have
brought a javelin, a good comely weapon, I will show him
my practice.”

A slender-shafted missile, about half the length of the
spear, was produced from the armory, and examined carefully.

“See, good 'tzin, it is not true. Let me have another.”

The next one was to his satisfaction.

“Now,” he said, “set the target thrice a hundred feet
away. If the dainty living of Xoli have not weakened my
arm, I will at least strike yon shield.”

The bystanders looked at each other wonderingly, and the
'tzin was pleased. He had not lost a word or a motion of
Hualpa's. The feat undertaken was difficult and but seldom
achieved successfully; but the aspirant was confident, and
he manifested the will to which all achievable things are
possible.

The target was reset, and the Tihuancan took the stand.
Resting the shaft on the palm of his left hand, he placed the
fingers of his right against the butt, and drew the graceful
weapon arm-length backward. It described an arc in the
air, and to the astonishment of all fell in the shield a little
left of the centre.

“Tell me, Hualpa,” said Guatamozin, “are there more
hunters in Tihuanco who can do such a deed? I will have
you bring them to me.”

The Tihuancan lowered his eyes. “I grieve to say, good
'tzin, that I know of none. I excelled them all. But I can
promise that in my native province there are hundreds braver
than I, ready to serve you to the death.”

“Well, it is enough. I intended to try you further, and
with other weapons, but not now. He who can so wield a
javelin must know to bend a bow and strike with a maquahuitl.
I accept your service. Let us to the palace.”

p733-131

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Hualpa thrilled with delight. Already he felt himself in
the warrior's path, with a glory won. All his dreams were
about to be realized. In respectful silence he followed Guatamozin,
and as they reached the portal steps, Io' touched his
arm:

“Remember our compact on the lake,” he whispered.

The hunter put his arm lovingly about the prince, and so
they entered the house. And that day Fate wove a brotherhood
of three hearts which was broken only by death.