III.
THE MONK'S MANUSCRIPT.
When Pablo and I started, the day following, upon our return to Morelia,the village of Santa Maria was overcast with mourning. The Cacique wasdead, they told us; had fallen among the rocks on the mountain-side,being an old man and feeble, and so was killed. And I was expresslycharged with a message to the good Padre, begging him to hasten to SantaMaria that the dead man might have Christian burial. I confess that Ifound this request, though I promised faithfully to comply with it,highly amusing; for I knew beyond the possibility of a doubt that ifever a man died a most earnest and devout heathen it was this sameCacique for whom Christian burial was sought; and I felt an assuredconviction that when the services of the Church over him were ended--andwhatever good was to be had for him from them secured--he would beburied fittingly with all the fulness of his own heathen rites. But thismatter, lying in what I already perceived to be the very wide regionbetween the avowed faith and the hidden faith of the Indians, was noconcern of mine; yet I longed, as only a thoroughly earnestarchaeologist could long, to be a witness of the funeral ceremony inwhich Fray Antonio most conspicuously would not take part. As this washopelessly impossible--for only by very slow advances, if ever, could Ireach again by considerate investigation the point that in a moment Ihad reached by chance--I came away from Santa Maria reluctantly, yetgreatly elated by the discovery that I had made.
So jealous was I in guarding the strange legacy that the Cacique hadbequeathed to me that not until I was safe back in Morelia, in my roomat the hotel, with the door locked behind me, did I venture to examineit. The bag, about six inches square, tightly sewed on all four of itssides, was made of snake-skin, and was provided with a loop ofsnake-skin so that it might be hung from the neck upon the breast like ascapulary. My hands trembled as I cut the delicate stitching of magueyfibre, and then drew forth a mass of several thicknesses of coarsegray-brown paper, also made of the maguey, such as the ancient Aztecsused. Being unfolded, I had before me a sheet nearly two feet square, onwhich was painted in dull colors a curious winding procession of figuresand symbols. My knowledge of such matters being then but scant, I couldtell only that this was a record, at once historical and geographical,of a tribal migration; and I saw at a glance that it was unlike eitherof the famous picture-writings which record the migration of the Aztecsfrom Culhuacan to the Valley of Mexico, and then about that valley untiltheir final settlement in Tenochtitlan. I was reasonably confident,indeed, that this record differed from all existing codices; and I wasfilled with what I hope will be looked upon as a pardonable pride athaving discovered, within three months of my coming to Mexico, thisunique and inestimable treasure.
My natural desire was to carry my precious codex at once to Don Rafael,that I might have the benefit of his superior knowledge in studying it(for he had continued very intelligently the investigation of Aztecpicture-writing that was so well begun by the late Senor Ramirez), andalso that I might enjoy his sympathetic enjoyment of my discovery. As Iraised the bag, that I might replace in it the refolded paper--which Ialready saw heralded to the world as the Codex Palgravius, andreproduced in fac-simile in _Pre-Columbian Conditions on the Continentof North America_--some glittering object dropped out of it and fellwith a jingling sound upon the stone floor. When I examined eagerly thisfresh treasure I found that it was a disk of gold, about the size andthickness of a Mexican silver dollar, on which a curious figure wasrudely engraved. The engraving obviously represented an Aztecname-device, the like of which, in the ancient picture-writings,distinguish one from another the several generations of a line of kings.This name-device was strange to me; but, as I have said, I had not atthat time studied carefully the Aztec picture-writings, and there weremany names of kings which I would not then have recognized. But that thegold disk was the token concerning the meaning of which the dyingCacique had given so strange a hint, I felt assured.
Being still further gladdened by this fresh discovery, I carried mytreasures at once to the Museo; and Don Rafael's enthusiasm over themwas as hearty as I could desire. Being so deeply learned in suchmatters, he was able in the course of a single afternoon to arrive atmuch of the meaning of my codex; and his rendering of it showed that itpossessed a very extraordinary historical value. In the Codex Boturini,as is well known, are several important lapses that neither that eminentscholar, nor any other archaeologist whose conclusions can be consideredtrustworthy, has been able to supply. All that reasonably can beimagined concerning these breaks is that the historian of the Aztecmigration deliberately omitted certain facts from his pictured history.The astonishing discovery that Don Rafael made in regard to my codex wasthat it unquestionably supplied the facts concealed in one of thelongest of these unaccountable blanks. This was not a mere guess on hispart, but a demonstrable certainty. On a fac-simile of the CodexBoturini he bade me observe attentively the pictures which preceded andwhich followed the break in question; and then he showed me that thesesame pictures were the beginning and the ending of my owncodex--obviously put there so that this secret record might be insertedaccurately into the public record of the wanderings of the Aztec tribe.
Further, the geographical facts set forth in the Codex Boturini havingbeen very solidly established, it was easy to determine approximatelythe part of Mexico to which the beginning and the end of my codexreferred. But the migration here recorded was a very long one, and allthat Don Rafael could say with certainty concerning it was that it toldof far journeyings into the west and north. He was much puzzled,moreover, by a picture that occurred about the middle of the codex, andthat seemed to be intended to represent a walled city among mountains.To my mind this picture tallied well with what the dying Cacique hadtold me touching the hidden stronghold of his race. But Don Rafaelattached very little importance to the Cacique's words; and onarchaeological grounds maintained that a walled city was an impossibilityin primitive Mexico--for while walls were built in plenty by theprimitive Mexicans, and still are to be found in many places, no mentionof a walled city is made by the early chroniclers, and of such a citythere never has been found the slightest trace.
In regard to the engraved disk of gold, Don Rafael said at once andpositively that it represented a name-device which never had beenfigured in any known Aztec writing; and he was of the opinion--being ledthereto by consideration of certain delicate peculiarities of the figurewhich were too subtle for my uninstructed apprehension to grasp--thatthe name here symbolized was that of a ruler who was both priest andking. That the piece of gold was found associated with picture-writingunquestionably belonging to the theocratic period lent additional colorto this assumption. The sum of our conclusions, therefore, was that wehad here the name-device of a priest-king who had ruled the Aztec tribeduring some portion of the first migration. And, assuming that he hadlived during the period to which my codex referred, and accepting thesystem of dates tentatively adopted by Senor Ramirez, we even fixed theninth century of our era as the period in which he had lived and ruled.
During two whole days Don Rafael and I worked together over thesematters in the Museo; and it was not until our investigations wereended--so far, at least, as investigations could be said to be endedwhile yet no definite conclusions were reached--that my thoughtsreverted to Fray Antonio, and to the requirement of courtesy that Ishould report to him the result of my course of study in the Indiantongues. It is but justice to myself to add that, knowing him to be goneto Santa Maria to attend to the Cacique's burial, I had temporarilydismissed this matter from my mind.
But when I was come to the Church of San Francisco--carrying with me theCodex Palgravius and the engraved disk of gold, in both of which I knewthat he would take a keen interest--I had no immediate opportunity ofexhibiting to him my treasures.
As I pushed open the sacristy door, when I had knocked upon it and hehad called me to enter, he came towards me at once in excitement soeager that his face was all lit up by it; and almost before I couldgreet him he exclaimed: "You are most happily come, my friend. At
thisvery moment I was about to send for you; for I have found that whichwill stir your heart even as it has stirred mine. Yet perhaps," and hespoke more gravely, "it will not stir your heart in the same way thatmine is stirred by it--for if I can but find the key that will unlockthe whole of the mystery that here partly is revealed, I see before mesuch opportunity to garner the Lord's vintage as comes but seldom to Hisservants in these later ages of the world."
So strange was Fray Antonio's manner, and so wayward seemed his speech,that I was half inclined to think his religious enthusiasm fairly hadlanded him in religious madness; which thought must have found utterancein my look of doubtfulness, for he smiled kindly at me, and in a quietertone went on:
"My wits still are with me, Don Tomas; though I do not wonder at yourthinking that I have lost them. Sit down here and listen to the story ofmy discovery; and when it is ended you will perceive that I very wellmay be excited by it and still be sane."
Being assured by this calmer speech that Fray Antonio had not takenleave of his senses, I made a weak disclaimer, that he smilinglyaccepted, of my too clearly expressed doubts in that direction; and soseated myself to listen.
"You know, senor," he began, "that common report has declared thatbeneath this Church of San Francisco is a secret passage that extendsunder the city and has its exit in the outlying meadow-lands. I mayconfide in you frankly that this passage does exist, and that I, incommon with all members of my Order who have dwelt here, know preciselywhere its entrance is and where its outlet. These matters need not beexposed, for they are not essential to my purpose. But you must knowthat in the midst of this passage I found on the day preceding yourreturn from the mountains a little room of which the door was so wellconcealed that my finding it was the merest accident. And in the room,with other things which need not here be named, I found a chest in whichare certain ancient papers of which I have been long in search. In thearchives are frequent references to these papers--they are of muchimportance to our Order--but as with all my search I never coulddiscover them, I had decided in my mind that in one or another of thetroublous periods that our Church has passed through they had beendestroyed. It is plain to me now that in one of these periods of dangerthey were hidden in this safe place.
"Some of these papers, dealing with mere matters of history, you willhave pleasure in examining in due time. But that which I shall show younow, and which has so excited me that you not unnaturally thought that Ihad gone mad over it, has got among the rest, as I verily believe, bysimple accident. Among the books and papers in the chest was a parchmentcase on which was written 'Mission of Santa Marta,' and the date '1531.'Within it were some loose sheets of paper on which were records ofIndian baptisms, as is evident by the strange mixing of Christian and ofheathen names. Plainly, this was the register of some mission station ofour Order in that far-back time. But as I pried into the case moreclosely, I found, within a double fold of the parchment--yet not asthough intentionally hidden, but rather as though there placed fortemporary safety--a sealed letter directed to the blessed Fray Juan deZumarraga, who was of our Order, and who, as you know, was the firstbishop of our holy Church in this New Spain. As I drew forth theletter, the seal, that time had loosened, fell away and left it open inmy hand. That this letter never until now has been read I am altogetherconfident, for the prodigy of which it tells would have made so great astir that ample record of it would have been preserved. Nor is itdifficult to account for the way in which it missed coming to the eyefor which it was intended. In that early time many and many of ourOrder, going out to preach God's Word among the barbarians, came happilyto that end which is the happiest end attainable in God's service: ablessed martyrdom." Fray Antonio's voice trembled with deep feeling ashe spoke, and I remembered that Don Rafael had told me that this goodbrother, it was believed, himself longed for a death so glorious. "Andbeing thus slain," Fray Antonio in a moment continued, "the missionstations which they had established were left desolate, with what theyheld--save such few things as might be cared for by the savagemurderers--remaining there within them. In later times, as theconquering Spaniards overspread the land, many of these stations werefound, with nothing to tell save nameless bones of those who had diedthere that God's will might be done.
"It is my conjecture, therefore, that this parchment case was found--howmany years after the death of him who owned it, who can tell?--in one ofthe many stations that the savages thus ravaged; that the soldiers, orwhoever may have found it, brought it hither, the nearest importantabiding-place of our Order; and that, being carelessly examined, it wascarelessly thrown aside when found to contain, apparently, only thelittle record of the work which our dead brother accomplished before Godgranted him his crown of earthly martyrdom and so made quick his way toheaven. Had the letter ever reached that 'first hand' for which thewriter says he waits to send it by, it assuredly would have come to theknowledge of the gold-loving Spanish conquerors, and armies would havegone forth to answer it. But our dead brother, having written it andplaced it in this fold of the parchment for safety until the chance tosend it southward should come, was cut off from life suddenly; and so,of the prodigious marvel of which knowledge had so strangely come tohim, only this mute and hidden record remained."
"But the letter itself?" I asked, with more energy than politeness."What _is_ the story that it contains? What is this mystery? Tell me ofit first, and then explain as much as you please afterwards."
Fray Antonio smiled at me kindly. "Ah, you too are becoming excited," hesaid. "But, truly, it is not fair that I should thus have kept youwaiting. Indeed, I am so full of it all that I forgot that as yet youknow nothing. Come out with me into the court-yard, where the light isstronger--for the writing is very faint and pale--and I will read youthis letter in which so wonderful a story is set forth."
Together we passed out through a little door in the rear of the sacristyinto what had been the inner and smaller cloister court-yard of the oldconvent--a lovely place in which a fountain set in a quaint stone basinsparkled, and where warm sunshine fell upon the rippling water and uponbeds of sweet-smelling flowers. And here it was, standing among theflowers in the sunshine, beside the quaint fountain, that Fray Antonioread to me the letter--that in this strange fashion had come to us froma hand dead for much more than three centuries, and that yet brought tous two a vital message that wholly was to shape our destinies.
The Aztec Treasure-House Page 5
