Now the soldiers that stood on either side of the thrones hesitated for a moment, and then advanced towards Tikal as though to lay hands upon him in obedience to Zibalbay's order. But Nahua rose and waved them off, saying:
"What! dare you to touch your anointed lord? Back, I say to you, if you would save yourselves from the doom of sacrilege. Living or dead, the day of Zibalbay is done, for the Council of the Heart has set his crown upon the brow of Tikal, and, whether for good or ill, their decree cannot be changed."
"Aye!" said Tikal, whose courage had come back to him. "The Lady Nahua speaks truth. Touch me not if you would live to look upon the sun."
But all the while he spoke his eyes were fixed upon Maya, whose beautiful face he watched as though it were that of some lost love risen from the dead.
Now, as Zibalbay was about to speak again, Mattai the astronomer bowed before him and said:
"Be not angry, but hear me, my lord. You have travelled far, and you are weary, and a weary man is apt at wrath. You think that you have been wronged, and, doubtless, all this that has chanced is strange to you, but now is not the time for us to give count of our acts and stewardship, or for you to hearken. Rest this night; and to–morrow on the pyramid, in the presence of the people, all things shall be made clear to you, and justice be done to all. Welcome to you, Zibalbay, and to you also, Daughter of the Heart—and say, who are these strangers that you bring with you from the desert lands across the mountains?"
Zibalbay paused awhile, looking round him out of the corners of his eyes, like a wolf in a trap, for he sought to discover the temper of the nobles. Then, finding that there were but few present whom he could trust to help him, he lifted his head and answered:
"You are right, Mattai, I am weary; for age, travel, and the faithlessness of men have worn me out. To–morrow these matters shall be dealt with in the presence of the people, and there, before the altar, it shall be made known whether I am their lord, or you, Tikal. There, too, I will tell you who these strangers are, and why I have brought them across the mountains. Until then I leave them in your keeping, for your own sake charging you to keep them well. Nay, here I will neither eat nor drink. Do you come with me," and he called to certain lords by name whom he knew to be faithful to him.
Then, without more words, he turned and left the hall, followed by a number of the nobles.
"It seems that my father has forgotten me," said Maya, with a laugh, when he had gone. "Greeting to you all, friends, and to you, my cousin Tikal, and greeting also to your wife, Nahua, who, once my waiting–lady, by the gift of fortune has now been lifted up to take my place and title. Whatever may be the issue of these broils, may you be happy in each other's love, Tikal and Nahua."
Now Tikal descended from the throne and bowed before her, saying, "I swear to you, Maya―"
"No, do not swear," she broke in, "but give me and my friends here a cup of wine and some fragments from your wedding–feast, for we are hungry. I thank you. How beautiful is that bride's robe which Nahua wears, and—surely—those emeralds were once my own. Well, let her take them from me as a wedding–gift. Make room, I pray you, Tikal, and suffer these ladies to tell me of their tidings, for remember that I have wandered far, and it is pleasant to see faces that are dear to me."
For a while we sat and ate, or made pretence to eat, while Maya talked thus lightly and all that company watched us, for we were wonderful in their eyes, who never till now had seen a white man. Indeed, the sight of the señor, auburn–haired, long–bearded, and white–skinned, was so marvellous to them, that, unlike the common people, they forgot their courtesy and crowded round him in their amazement. Still, there were two who took small note of the señor or of me, and these were Tikal, who gazed at Maya as he stood behind her chair serving her like some waiting slave, and Nahua his wife, who sat silent and neglected on her throne, sullenly noting his every word and gesture. At length she could bear this play no longer, but, rising from her seat, began to move down the chamber.
"Make room for the bride, ladies," said Maya. "Cousin, good–night, it grows late, and your wife awaits you."
Then, muttering I know not what, Tikal turned and went, and side by side the pair walked down the great hall, followed by their guard of soldiers.
"How beautiful is the bride, and how brave the groom!" said Maya, as she watched them go, "and yet I have seen couples that looked happier on their wedding–day. Well, it is time to rest. Friends, good–night. Mattai, I leave these strangers in your keeping. Guard them well—and, stay, bring them to my apartments to–morrow after they have eaten, for if it is my father's will, I would show them something of the city before the hour of noon, when we meet upon the temple–top."
When she had gone, Mattai bowed to us with much ceremony, and begged us to follow him, which we did, across the courtyard and through many passages, to a beautiful chamber, dimly lighted with silver lamps, that had been made ready for us. Here were beds covered with silken wrappings, and on a table in the centre of the room cool drinks and many sorts of fruits, but so tired were we that we took little note of these things.
Bidding good–night to Mattai, who looked at us curiously and announced that he would visit us early in the morning, we made fast the copper bolts upon the door and threw ourselves upon the beds.
Weary as I was, I could not sleep in this strange place, and when, from time to time, my eyes closed, the sound of feet passing without our chamber door roused me again to wakefulness. Of one thing I was sure, that Zibalbay was not wanted here in his own city, and that there would be trouble on the morrow when he told his tale to the people, for certainly Tikal would not suffer himself easily to be thrust from the place he had usurped, and he had many friends. Doubtless it was their feet that I heard outside the door as they hurried to and fro from the chamber where Mattai sat taking counsel with them. What would be our fate, I wondered, in this struggle for power that must come? These people feared strangers—so much I could read in their faces—and doubtless they would be rid of us if they might. Well, we had a good friend in Maya, and the rest we must leave to Providence.
Thinking thus, at length I fell asleep, to be awakened by the voice of the señor, who was sitting upon the edge of his bed, singing a song and looking round the chamber, for now the daylight streamed through the lattice. I wished him good–morrow, and asked him why he sang.
"Because of the lightness of my heart," he answered. "We have reached the city at last, and it is far more splendid and wonderful than anything I dreamed of. Also the luck is with us, for this Tikal has taken another woman in marriage, who, to judge from the look of her, will not readily let him go, and therefore Maya has no more to fear from him. Thirdly, there is enough treasure in this town, if what we saw last night may be taken as a sample, to enable you to establish three Indian Empires, if you wish, and doubtless Zibalbay will give you as much of it as you may want. Therefore, friend Ignatio, you should sing, as I do, instead of looking as gloomy as though you saw your own coffin being brought in at the door."
I shook my head, and answered:
"I fear you speak lightly. There is trouble brewing in this city, and we shall be drawn into it, for the struggle between Tikal and Zibalbay will be to the death. As for the Lady Maya, of this I am certain, that—wife or no wife—Tikal still loves her and will strive to take her; I saw it in his eyes last night. Lastly, it is true enough that here there is boundless wealth; but whether its owners will suffer me to have any portion of it, to forward my great purposes—useless though it be to them—is another matter."