II.
THE CACIQUE'S SECRET.
Fray Antonio punctually fulfilled his promise in regard to themanuscripts, and I had but to glance at them in order to understand thesmile that he had interchanged with Don Rafael when I so airily hadexpressed my confidence in my ability to read them. To say that I moreeasily could read Hebrew is not to the purpose, for I can read Hebrewvery well; but it is precisely to the purpose to say that I could notread them at all! What with the curious, involved formation of theseveral letters, the extraordinary abbreviations, the antique spelling,the strange forms of expression, and the use of obsolete words I couldnot make sense of so much as a single line. Yet when, being forced intoinglorious surrender, I carried the manuscripts to the Museo, andappealed to Don Rafael for assistance, he read to me in fluent Spanishall that I had found so utterly incomprehensible. "It is only a knack,"he explained. "A little time and patience are required at first, butthen all comes easily." But Don Rafael did here injustice to his ownscholarship. More than a little time and patience have I since given tothe study of ancient Spanish script, and I am even yet very far frombeing an expert in the reading of it.
In regard to the other promise that Fray Antonio made me--that he wouldsend me a servant who also would serve as a practical instructor in theNahua, or Aztec, dialect--he was equally punctual. While I was taking,in my bedroom, my first breakfast of bread and coffee the morningfollowing my visit to the church of San Francisco, I heard a faint soundof music; but whether it was loud music at a distance or very soft musicnear at hand I could not tell. Presently I perceived that the musicianwas feeling about among the notes for the sabre song from _La GrandeDuchesse_--selections from which semi-obsolete opera, as I thenremembered, had been played by the military band on the plaza theevening before. Gradually the playing grew more assured; until it endedin an accurate and spirited rendering of the air. With this triumph, thevolume of the sound increased greatly; and from its tones I inferredthat the instrument was a concertina, and that whoever played it was inthe inner court-yard of the hotel. Suddenly, in the midst of the music,there sounded--and this sound unmistakably came from the hotelcourt-yard--the prodigious braying of an ass; and accompanying this camethe soft sound of bare feet hurrying away down the passage from near mydoor.
I opened the door and looked out, but the passage was empty. The galleryoverlooked the court-yard, and stepping to the edge of the low stonerailing, I beheld a sight that I never recall without a feeling of warmtenderness. Almost directly beneath me stood a small gray ass, a verydelicately shaped and perfect little animal, with a coat of mostextraordinary length and fuzziness, and with ears of a truly prodigioussize. His head was raised, and his great ears were pricked forward in afashion which indicated that he was most intently listening; and uponhis face was an expression of such benevolent sweetness, joined to suchthoughtfulness and meditative wisdom, that in my heart (which is veryopen to affection for his gentle kind) there sprung up in a moment areal love for him. Suddenly he lowered his head, and turned eagerly hisregard towards the corner of the court-yard where descended thestair-way from the gallery on which I stood; and from this quarter cametowards him a smiling, pleasant-faced Indian lad of eighteen or twentyyears old, whose dress was a cotton shirt and cotton trousers, whosefeet were bare, and on whose head was a battered hat of straw. And asthe ass saw the boy, he strained at the cord that tethered him and gaveanother mighty bray.
"Dost thou call me, Wise One?" said the boy, speaking in Spanish. "Trulythis Senor Americano is a lazy senor, that he rises so late, and keepsus waiting for his coming so long. But patience, Wise One. The Padresays that he is a good gentleman, in whose service we shall be treatedas though we were kings. No doubt I now can buy my rain-coat. And thou,Wise One--thou shalt have beans!"
And being by this time come to the ass, the boy enfolded in his arms thecreature's fuzzy head and gently stroked its preternaturally long ears.And the ass, for its part, responded to the caress by rubbing its headagainst the boy's breast and by most energetically twitching its scragof a tail. Thus for a little time these friends manifested for eachother their affection; and then the boy seated himself on the pavementbeside the ass and drew forth from his pocket a large mouth-organ--onwhich he went to work with such a will that all the court-yard rang withthe strains of Offenbach's music.
It was plain from what he had said that this was the boy whom FrayAntonio had promised to send to me; and notwithstanding hisuncomplimentary comments upon my laziness, I had taken already a strongliking to him. I waited until he had played through the sabre songagain--to which, as it seemed to me, the ass listened with a slightlycritical yet pleased attention--and then I hailed him.
"The lazy Senor Americano is awake at last, Pablo," I called. "Come uphither, and we will talk about the buying of thy rain-coat, and aboutthe buying of the Wise One's beans."
The boy jumped up as though a spring had been let loose beneath him, andhis shame and confusion were so great that I was sorry enough that I hadmade my little joke upon him.
"It is all right, my child," I said, quickly, and with all the kindnessthat I could put into my tones. "Thou wert talking to the Wise One, notto me--and I have forgotten all that I heard. Thou art come from FrayAntonio?"
"Yes, senor," he answered; and as he saw by my smiling that no harm hadbeen done, he also smiled; and so honest and kindly was the lad's facethat I liked him more and more.
"Patience for yet a little longer, Wise One," he said, turning to theass, who gravely wagged his ears in answer. And then the boy came up thestair to the gallery, and so we went to my room that I might have talkwith him.
It was not much that Pablo had to tell about himself. He was aGuadalajara lad, born in the Indian suburb of Mexicalcingo--as hismusical taste might have told me had I known more of Mexico--who haddrifted out into the world to seek his fortune. His capital was theass--so wise an ass that he had named him El Sabio. "He knows each wordthat I speak to him, senor," said Pablo, earnestly. "And when he hears,even a long way off, the music that I make upon the little instrument,he knows that it is from me that the music comes, and calls to me. And heloves me, senor, as though he were my brother; and he knows that withthe same tenderness I also love him. It was the good Padre who gave himto me. God rest and bless him always!" This pious wish, I inferred,related not to the ass but to Fray Antonio.
"And how dost thou live, Pablo?" I asked.
"By bringing water from the Spring of the Holy Children, senor. It istwo leagues away, the Ojo de los Santos Ninos, and El Sabio and I makethither two journeys daily. We bring back each time four jars of water,which we sell here in the city--for it is very good, sweet water--atthree _tlacos_ the jar. You see, I make a great deal of money,senor--three _reales_ a day! If it were not for one single thing, Ishould soon be rich."
That riches could be acquired rapidly on a basis of about twenty-sevencents, in our currency, a day struck me as a novel notion. But Iinquired, gravely: "And this one thing that hinders thee from gettingrich, Pablo, what is it?"
"It is that I eat so much, senor," Pablo answered, ruefully. "Truly itseems as though this belly of mine never could be filled. I tryvaliantly to eat little and so to save my money; but my belly cries outfor more and yet more food--and so my money goes. Although I make somuch, I can scarcely save a _medio_ in a whole week, when what El Sabiomust have and what I must have is paid for. And I am trying so hard tosave just now, for before the next rainy season comes I want to own arain-coat. But for a good one I must pay seven _reales_. The price isvast."
"What is a rain-coat, Pablo?"
"The senor does not know? That is strange. It is a coat woven of palmleaves, so that all over one it is as a thatch that the rain cannot comethrough. What I was saying just now to El Sabio--" Pablo stoppedsuddenly, and turned aside from me in a shamefaced way, as heremembered what he also had said to El Sabio about my laziness.
"--Was that out of the wages I am to pay thee thou canst save enoughmoney to buy thy coat with," I said
, quickly, wishing to rid him of hisconfusion. And then we fell to talking of what these wages should be,and of how he was to help me to gain a speaking knowledge of his nativetongue--for so far we had spoken Spanish together--and of what ingeneral would be his duties as my servant. That El Sabio could beanything but a part of the contract seemed never to cross Pablo's mind;and so presently our terms were concluded, and I found myself occupyingthe responsible relation of master to a mouth-organ playing boy and anextraordinarily wise ass. It was arranged that both of these dependantsof mine should accompany me in my expedition to the Indian villages; andto clinch our bargain I gave Pablo the seven _reales_ wherewith to buyhis rain-coat on the spot.
I was a little surprised, two days later, when we started from Moreliaon our journey into the mountains to the westward, to find that Pablohad not bought his much-desired garment; though, to be sure, as therainy season still was a long way off, there was no need for it. Hehesitated a little when I questioned him about it, and then, in a veryapologetic tone, said: "Perhaps the senor will forgive me for doing soill with his money. But indeed I could not help it. There is an old man,his name is Juan, senor, who has been very good to me many times. He hasgiven me things to put into this wretchedly big belly of mine; and whenI broke one of my jars he lent me the money to buy another with, andwould take from me again only what the jar cost and no more. Just nowthis old man is sick--it is rheumatism, senor--and he has no money atall, and he and his wife have not much to eat, and I know what pain thatis. And so--and so--Will the senor forgive me? I do not need therain-coat now, the senor understands. And so I gave Juan the seven_reales_, which he will pay me when he gets well and works again; andshould he die and not pay me--Does the senor know what I have beenthinking? It is that rain-coats really are not very needful things,after all. Without them one gets wet, it is true; but then one soon getsdry again. But truly"--and there was a sudden catching in Pablo's throatthat was very like a sob--"truly I did want one."
When Pablo had told this little story I did not wonder at the esteem inwhich Fray Antonio held him, and from that time onward he had a verywarm place in my heart. And I may say that but for his too greatdevotion to his mouth-organ--for that boy never could hear a new tunebut that he needs must go at once to practising it upon his beloved"instrumentito" until he had mastered it--he was the best servant thatman ever had. And within his gentle nature was a core of very gallantfearlessness. In the times of danger which we shared together later,excepting only Rayburn, not one of us stood face to face and foot tofoot with death with a steadier or a calmer bravery; for in all hiscomposition there did not seem to be one single fibre that could be madeto thrill in unison with fear. Of his qualities as a servant I had agood trial during the two months that we were together in themountains--in which time I got enough working knowledge of the Indiandialects to make effective the knowledge that I had gained frombooks--and I was amazed by the quickness that he manifested inapprehending and in supplying my wants and in understanding my ways.
As to making any serious study of Indian customs--save only those of themost open and well-known sort--in this short time, I soon perceived thatthe case was quite hopeless. Coming from Fray Antonio, whose benevolentministrations among them had won their friendship, the Indians treatedme with a great respect and showed me every kindness. But I presentlybegan to suspect, and this later grew to be conviction, that because mycredentials came from a Christian priest I was thrust away all the moreresolutely from knowledge of their inner life. What I then began tolearn, and what I learned more fully later, convinced me that theseIndians curiously veneered with Christian practices their native heathenfaith; manifesting a certain superstitious reverence for the Christianrites and ceremonies, yet giving sincere worship only to their heathengods. It was something to have arrived at this odd discovery, but ittended only to show me how difficult was the task that I had set myselfof prying into the secrets of the Indians' inner life.
Indeed, but for an accident, I should have returned to Morelia no wiser,practically, than when I left it; but by that turn of chance fortunemost wonderfully favored me, and with far-reaching consequences. It wason the last afternoon of my stay in the village of Santa Maria; and thebeginning of my good-luck was that I succeeded in walking out upon themountain-side alone. My walk had a decided purpose in it, for each timethat I had tried to go in this direction one or another of the Indianshad been quickly upon my heels with some civil excuse about the dangerof falling among the rocks for leading me another way. How I thussucceeded at last in escaping from so many watchful eyes I cannot say,but luck was with me, and I went on undisturbed. The sharply slopingmountain-side, very wild and rugged, was strewn with great fragments ofrock which had fallen from the heights above, and which, lying there forages beneath the trees, had come to be moss-grown and half hidden bybushes and fallen leaves. In the dim light that filtered through thebranches, walking in so uncertain a place was attended with a good dealof danger; for not only was there a likelihood of falls leading tobroken legs, but broken necks also were an easy possibility by thechance of a slip upon the mossy edge of one or another of the manyledges, followed by a spin through the air ending suddenly upon thejagged rocks below. Indeed, so ticklish did I find my way that I beganto think that the Indians had spoken no more than the simple truth inwarning me against such dangers, and that I had better turn again whilelight remained to bring me back in safety; and just as I had reachedthis wise conclusion my feet slid suddenly from under me on the veryedge of one of the ledges, and over I went into the depth below.
Fortunately I fell not more than a dozen feet or so, and my fall wasbroken by a friendly bed of leaves and moss. When I got to my feetagain, in a moment, I found myself in a narrow cleft in the rocks, and Iwas surprised to see that through this cleft ran a well-worn path. Allthought of the danger that I had just escaped from so narrowly wasbanished form my mind instantly as I made this discovery; and full ofthe exciting hope that I was about to find something which the Indiansmost earnestly desired to conceal, I went rapidly and easily onward inthe direction that I had been pressing towards with so much difficultyalong the rocky mountain-side. The course of this sunken path, I soonperceived, was partly natural and partly artificial. It went on throughclefts such as the one that I had fallen into, and through devious wayswhere the fragments of fallen rock, some of them great masses weighingmany tons, had been piled upon each other in most natural confusion, soas to leave a narrow passage in their depths. And all this had been donein a long-past time, for the rocks were thickly coated with moss; and inone place, where a watercourse crossed the path, were smoothed by waterin a way that only centuries could have accomplished. So cleverly wasthe concealment effected, the way so narrow and so irregular, that Iverily believe an army might have scoured that mountain-side and neverfound the path at all, save by such accident as had brought me into it.
For half a mile or more I went on in the waning light, my heartthrobbing with the excitement of it all, and so came out at last upon avast jutting promontory of rock that was thrust forth from themountain's face eastwardly. Here was an open space of an acre or more,in the centre of which was a low, altar-like structure of stone. At theend of the narrow path, being still within its shelter, I stopped tomake a careful survey of the ground before me; for I realized that inwhat I was doing Death stood close at my elbow, and that, unless I actedwarily, he surely would have me in his grasp. Coming out of the shadowsof the woods and the deeper shadows of the sunken path to this wide openspace, where the light of the brilliant sunset was reflected stronglyfrom masses of rosy clouds over all the eastern sky, I could seeclearly. In the midst of the opening, not far from the edge of thestupendous precipice, where the bare rock dropped sheer down a thousandfeet or more, was a huge bowlder that had been cut and squared withineffective tools into the rude semblance of a mighty altar. Thewell-worn path along which I had come told the rest of the story. Herewas the temple, having for its roof the great arch of heaven, in whichthe Indians, whom the gent
le Fray Antonio believed to be such goodChristians, truly worshipped their true gods; even as here their fathershad worshipped before them in the very dawning of the ancient past.
A tremor of joy went through me as I realized what I had found. Here waspositive proof of what I had strongly but not surely hoped for. TheAztec faith truly was still a living faith; and it followed almostcertainly that, could I but penetrate the mystery with which it washedged about so carefully by them still faithful to it, I would findall that I sought--of living customs, of coherent traditions--wherewithto exhibit clearly to the world of the nineteenth century the wonderfulsocial and religious structure that the Spaniards of the sixteenthcentury had blotted out, but had not destroyed. What myfellow-archaeologists had accomplished in Syria, in Egypt, in Greece, wasnothing to what I could thus accomplish in Mexico. At the best, Smith,Rawlinson, Schliemann, had done no more than stir the dust above thesurface of dead antiquity; but I was about to bring the past freshly andbrightly into the very midst of the present, and to make antiquity oncemore alive!
As I stood there in the dusk of the narrow pathway, while the joy thatwas in my heart swelled it almost to bursting, there came to my ears thelow moaning of one in pain. The faint, uncertain sound seemed to comefrom the direction of the great stone altar. To discover myself in thatplace to any of the Indians, I knew would end my archaeological ambitionvery summarily; yet was I moved by a natural desire to aid whoever thuswas hurting and suffering. I stood irresolute a moment, and then, as themoaning came to me again, I went out boldly into the open space, andcrossed it to where the altar was. As I rounded the great stone I saw avery grievous sight: an old man lying upon the bare rock, a great gashin his forehead from which the blood had flowed down over his face andbreast, making him a most ghastly object to look upon; and there wasabout him a certain limpness that told of many broken bones. He turnedhis head at the sound of my footsteps, but it was plain that the bloodflowing into his eyes had blinded him, and that he could not see me. Hemade a feeble motion to clear his eyes, but dropped his partly raisedarm suddenly and with a moan of pain. I recognized him at a glance. Hewas the Cacique, the chief, and also, as I had shrewdly guessed, thepriest of the village--the very last person whom I would have desired tomeet in that place.
"Ah, thou art come to me at last, Benito!" he said, speaking in a lowand broken voice. "I have been praying to our gods that they would sendthee to me--for my death has come, and it is needful that the one secretstill hidden from thee, my successor, should be told. I was on thealtar's top, and thence I fell."
I perceived in what the Cacique said that there was hope for me. Hecould not see me, and he evidently believed that I was the second chiefof the village, Benito--an Indian who had talked much with me, and thetones of whose voice I knew well. Doubtless my clumsy attempt tosimulate the Indian's speech would have been detected quickly underother circumstances, but the Cacique believed that no other man couldhave come to him in that place; and his whole body was wrung withtorturing pains, and he was in the very article of death. And so it was,my prudence leading me to speak few and simple words, and my good-luckstill standing by me, he never guessed whose hands in his last momentsministered to him.
As I raised his head a little and rested it upon my knee, he spokeagain, very feebly and brokenly: "On my breast is the bag of skin. Init is the Priest-Captain's token, and the paper that shows the way towhere the stronghold of our race remains. Only with me abides thissecret, for I am of the ancient house, as thou art also, whence sprungof old our priests and kings. Only when the sign that I have told theeof--but telling thee not its meaning--comes from heaven, is the token tobe sent, and with it the call for aid. Once, as thou knowest, that signcame, and the messenger, our own ancestor, departed. But there was angerthen against us among the gods, and they suffered not his message to bedelivered, and he himself was slain. Yet was the token preserved tous, and yet again the sign from heaven will come. And then--thouknowest--" But here a shiver of pain went through him, and his speechgave place to agonizing moans. When he spoke again his words were but awhisper. "Lay me--in front of--the altar," he said. "Now is the end."
"But the sign? What is it? And where is the stronghold?" I criedeagerly; forgetting in the intense excitement of this strange disclosuremy need for reticence, and forgetting even to disguise my voice. But myimprudence cost me nothing. Even as I spoke another shiver went throughthe Cacique's body; and as there came from his lips, thereafter foreverto be silent, a sound, half moan, half gasp, his soul went out from him,and he was at rest.
When a little calmness had returned to me, I took from his breast thebag of skin--stained darkly where his blood had flowed upon it--and thentenderly and reverently lifted his poor mangled body and laid it beforethe altar. And so I came back along the hidden path, safely andunperceived, to the village: leaving the dead Cacique there in thesolemn solitude of that great mountain-top, whereon the dusk of nightwas gathering, alone in death before the altar of his gods.
The Aztec Treasure-House Page 4
