Читать книгу A Prince of Anahuac - James A. Porter - Страница 9

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Among the many ruins of ancient Mexico, and not the least of interest and wonder, were those of the great aqueducts, by means of which vast quantities of water were brought from distant points to supply an extensive system of irrigation, and, presumably, the palaces and villas of the rulers and their wealthy adherents.

The Tezcucan palace, while Hualcoyotl's father was yet a prosperous and independent sovereign, was furnished with all the advantages attainable, among which was an abundant supply of water, brought into the palace through a large conduit, or earthen pipe. After the subjugation of the Tezcucans, and death of their king, this pipe fell into disuse and ruin.

There was a passageway leading from within the palace to the abandoned conduit, which was concealed by a secret door. In this outlet Itzalmo saw a sure avenue of deliverance for his young master, and devised a plan of escape for him through its offered adaptedness, which was successfully carried out, as recorded at the close of the last chapter.

The plan of escape, so ingeniously devised by the old preceptor, was communicated to the prince, who, after being again urged to save himself for the sake of his people, concluded to acquiesce; for he began to realize that death certainly awaited him should he remain, while in the plan of Itzalmo there was hope, a strong argument against his false notion of defiance in the face of such overwhelming odds.

When Hualcoyotl left the banqueting hall and entered the saloon he was hurried to and through the secret door into the passageway and on to the conduit, where he found present security. It was not his purpose to reenter the palace, but to follow the pipe to a point where an opening had, in the gradual decay of the structure, appeared in its side, and from there make his escape. To do this was not an easy task, for he had a considerable distance to go, and the pipe being too small to permit him to rise, he was compelled to proceed in a crawling manner, and, frequently, to work his way through accumulated obstructions. After much vexatious toiling he found himself nearing the opening in the conduit, through which he expected to make his exit. A flood of light, most welcome, was streaming in through the breach, the sight of which freshened his flagging energies and relieved the arduousness of his advance. The goal was finally reached, and just beyond was freedom—to him, however, a freedom to be gained only under cover of darkness.

It had been arranged that the prince should remain in the conduit until night, when, at a preconcerted signal, to be given by his faithful and trusted attendant, Oza, to assure him that the way was clear, he should come forth and be conducted to a place of safety.

The time passed tediously to the anxious fugitive in his close quarters, and he was beginning to feel the effect of it on his endurance, when his attention was attracted by a sound not unfamiliar. A short period of silence ensued, and then followed the signal to quit the conduit. He was quickly at Oza's side, of whom he inquired:

"Whither do we go?"

"To the cottage of Kan, the weaver. Let my master follow his servant," cautiously replied Oza, moving noiselessly away.

While Hualcoyotl was waiting in the conduit for night to come to his relief, a former vassal and ardent adherent of his father's, a weaver of nequen (maguey cloth) by the name of Kan, who lived on the outskirts of the city, was seen and consulted with reference to his safety. The weaver immediately interested himself in the son of his old master, and proposed that he be brought to his cottage, where he could remain until a better and safer refuge was found for him. The proposal was gladly acceded to, and the fugitive, at leaving the conduit, was conducted to his house, where he was made comfortable and secure for the time being.

The officer who had charge of the expedition to the Tezcucan palace, with a view to taking Hualcoyotl's life, was greatly chagrined at the effectual manner in which he was tricked. After exhausting his ingenuity in futile efforts to find a clue to the prince's mysterious disappearance, he placed a guard over the palace and returned in haste to his master, the king, to whom he reported the failure of his mission, but in such manner as to save his own head, which would no doubt have been required of him for his incautiousness, had the king been correctly informed.

Maxtla became greatly enraged when he learned of the failure of the expedition and escape of his hated rival. Troops of armed men were ordered to scour the country in every direction in search of him, and, in addition, a large reward was offered for his capture, dead or alive. The hand of a noble lady, and a rich domain to accompany it, was promised to whoever should take him, regardless of the captor's previous condition in life.

The perils to which the prince was being subjected by his powerful enemy, and the persistent efforts made to destroy him, were becoming generally known. Among his friends—the Tezcucans, who were deeply incensed at the unjust treatment of their favorite—a latent hatred of everything Tepanec was being wrought into a feeling of antagonism, which was rapidly engendering a spirit of resistance to the relentless and malicious persecutor.

"Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad," was assuredly exemplified in the brief and despotic career of the tyrant Maxtla; for by his unkingly conduct toward the unoffending Hualcoyotl he was digging a pit, so to speak, broad and deep, which would engulf not only himself, but his nation as well, of whose proud capital, the royal city of Azcapozalco, no vestige would remain to mark the spot whereon it stood; nor track, nor trace of all the mighty host of those o'er whom by right he ruled, but only waste and desolated space, on which, to emphasize a conqueror's hate, it was decreed the slave-man's mart should be.[5]

Some days subsequent to the coming of Hualcoyotl to the weaver's cottage a band of soldiers appeared in its vicinity. Every house was being searched, and it was soon learned that he was the object of the search. Measures were immediately taken to prevent his discovery.

When two of the soldiers presently entered Kan's place they found him busily engaged at his work, preparing the fibers of maguey for the loom, a quantity of which was lying in piles about him. One of the men, addressing him, said:

"The soldiers of the king are searching for Hualcoyotl, the fugitive prince, who is thought to be hiding somewhere in this part of the city. We are here to look through your cottage, weaver."

"The soldiers of the king know their duty, and must perform it, though it will avail them nothing to search my place. Kan, the weaver, has other business to occupy his time than that of hiding royal aristocrats, who would take no more account of his life than they would of an ocelotl's," was the curt and not inapt reply.

"There is truth in what you say, weaver," returned the soldier. "Small value is put upon a man's life by them, especially if he is in their way."

Without further delay he proceeded, with his companion, to search the few apartments of the cottage, giving them a thorough examination.

Kan never worked more diligently than he did while the soldiers were looking through his place. The fibers of the maguey fairly flew through his hands, and higher and wider grew the pile of thready stuff at his left. Although his movements were rapid, he showed no evidence of disquiet. His countenance wore its customary stern look, and yet, beneath, there was poignant solicitude for his royal charge. It appears to have been a characteristic of his people to forget self in their devotion to others. He took no account of his own personal risk: the penalty he incurred in harboring the fugitive—a penalty the measure of which would depend on the caprice of a suspicious and tyrannizing king.

After a protracted search into all the nooks and secret places about the weaver's premises, the men returned to the room in which he was working. This room was quite plain, without recess or other receptacle where a man might have found concealment. The spokesman looked critically over it, and said:

"The fugitive is surely not hiding with you, friend; for we find nothing of a suspicious character about your house. Sorry we were obliged to trouble you, but orders must be obeyed."

"Right, soldier!" returned Kan. "You have performed your duty, and no harm has been done."

The weaver spoke with affected carelessness, which he did not feel, for every moment which the soldiers spent in the room was one of anxiety to him.

Casting his eyes over the apartment once more, the soldier said:

"Since everything with you appears straight and satisfactory, we'll relieve you of our presence. Good luck to you, weaver."

"The same to the soldiers of the king," replied Kan, with a supreme effort at indifference, as the searchers turned to leave his place.

The party was hardly beyond the curtained doorway when the weaver's assumed carelessness gave place to cautiousness.

"Hist! do not stir!" he ejaculated guardedly. Rising, he went to a small window, a safe point from which to watch the soldiers' movements. When he was satisfied they would not return, and that all present danger was past, he went to the pile of selected fibers, which had grown so rapidly under his supreme efforts while the soldiers were searching his place, and, lifting them, said:

"You may rise now from your uncomfortable position. The soldiers seem to be satisfied with their search of my premises, and are gone."

The prince rose from the floor, on which he had been lying beneath the pile of fibers, and, glancing at his greatly disordered apparel, said, in a soliloquizing manner:

"Hualcoyotl is indeed fallen. I never expected to reach a state so far beneath my manhood as this; but, since it is for country and freedom, submission must be the rule, however humiliating the conditions." Fixing his eyes on the weaver, he continued: "Your reply to the soldier, Kan, in which you referred to royal aristocrats and the indifference usually shown by them for the lives of their subjects, has taught me a valuable lesson—one that I will not soon forget. It is too true that rulers are often disposed to hold the lives of their subjects lightly. Should it be my good fortune to regain my heritage, Kan and his words, so aptly spoken, shall not be forgotten."

"I pray, O Prince, that you will believe me. The words were not spoken out of disrespect, but to mislead the soldier that his search might not be too close." Spoken humbly and out of fear that he had given offense. "Kan is only one of many," he continued, "who would delight in serving and honoring Hualcoyotl as their king."

"It does not matter, Kan, what prompted the use of the words," replied the prince, kindly; "they were well said and timely, and you need have no regrets for having uttered them. At this moment I may be indebted to them for my liberty, if not my life. But let them pass; I would not they were unsaid. My escape from detection was narrow, indeed," he went on; "and due, my faithful friend, to your sagacity alone. I can no longer consent to your life and home being put in jeopardy on my account. There is no place in Tezcuco that will furnish me a safe retreat—my flight must be resumed. I will go into the mountains, in the direction of Tlascala, where refuge may be found in their fastnesses until my people are ready to avenge themselves on the authors of their degradation. If you will find a way, Kan, to inform Oza that I would see him, you will confer a favor which may be the last you will have an opportunity to bestow upon your unfortunate guest." The prince's closing words expressed deep dejection, and Kan hastened to answer by way of encouragement:

"May the son of my murdered master be mistaken in that, is the prayer of Kan. May he live to deliver his people from the power of the hated Maxtla, and be crowned king in the place of his noble father!"

"You have my thanks, Kan, for your kind and prayerful words; and, now, let Oza be summoned and preparations made for my departure to-night."

Oza came, and on being informed of the prince's purpose, became greatly worried over it. That he should go off to the mountains alone was not to be thought of for a moment. He was willing and ready to share his master's hardships, and insisted on being permitted to do so with so much earnestness and show of fealty that Hualcoyotl finally consented that he should, for a few days at least.

The preparations for their departure were speedily consummated, including a visit by Oza to the palace; and night, which was to shield them in their flight, was waited for in patient silence.

When the hour came for leaving, the prince bade his preserver a kind good-bye, with promises of future remembrance, and, with Oza for a companion, went out into the darkness—a fugitive from an unjust condemnation.