"Why should she kill herself because of a white wanderer?" he asked.
Nahua shrugged her shoulders, and smiled darkly, as she answered:
"Who can tell; he is her friend, and women have been known to give their lives for their friends. Do as you will, but if Maya dies I do not think that we shall live to see another dawn," and, leaving his side, she sought her chair again.
Now Tikal looked at the señor, who was stretched upon the ground beside me, and seeing that there was hate in his eyes I trembled, thinking that the end had come, then turned my head aside, and began to commend my soul to the care of Heaven. As I prayed he spoke, addressing himself to Maya:
"Lady," he said, "you have appealed to the law on behalf of these wanderers, of your father, and of yourself, and by the law you shall be dealt with. To–morrow the judges shall be chosen, and hold their court here before the people."
"It cannot be, Tikal," she answered calmly, "there is but one court which can try us four, all of whom are Brethren of the Heart, and that is the Council of the Heart sitting in the Sanctuary, which assembles on the eighth day from now, on the night of the Rising of Waters. Is it not so, nobles?"
"If you are of the number of the Brethren of the Heart, all of you, it is so," they answered.
"So be it," said Tikal; "but till then I must hold you in safe–keeping. Will it please you to follow Mattai, Lady, and you, my Lord Zibalbay. Guards, bring these men to the watch–house yonder, and keep them there till I come to you."
Maya bowed, and, turning to the audience, she said in a clear voice, "Farewell, my people. If we are seen no more you will know that my father and I have been done to death by Tikal, who has usurped our place, and to you I leave it to take vengeance for our blood."
Chapter XVII
The Curse of Zibalbay
Thankful enough was I to rise from the ground feeling my life whole in me.
"Death has been near to us," said the señor with something between a sob and a laugh, as we followed Zibalbay and Maya into the guard–house.
"He is near to us still," I answered, "but at least, unless Tikal changes his mind, we have won some days of respite."
"Thanks to her," he said, nodding to Maya, and as he spoke we entered the guard–house, a small chamber with a massive door, somewhat roughly furnished.
So soon as we were in, the door was shut upon us, and we found ourselves alone. Zibalbay sat himself down, and, fixing his eyes upon the wall, stared at it as though it offered no hindrance to his sight, but the rest of us stood together near the door, listening to the turmoil of the multitude without. Clearly argument ran high among them, for we could hear the sound of angry voices, of shouting, and of the hurrying footfalls of the people leaving the pyramid by way of the great stair.
"You have saved our lives for a while, for which we owe you thanks," said the señor to Maya presently, "but tell me, what will they do with us now?"
"I cannot say," she answered, "but in this pyramid are chambers where we shall be hidden away until our day of trial. At the least I think so, for they dare not let us out among the people, lest we should cause a tumult in the city."
Before the words had left her lips the door was opened, and through it came Tikal, Mattai, and other of the great lords who were hostile to Zibalbay.
"What is your pleasure with us?" asked Zibalbay, awaking from his dream.
"That you should follow me," answered Tikal sternly, "you and the others"—adding, with a low bow to Maya, "forgive me, Lady, that I must exercise this violence towards you and your father, but I have no other choice if I would save you from the vengeance of the people."
"It is not the vengeance of the people that we have to fear, Tikal," she answered quietly, "but rather your hate."
"Which it is in your power to appease, lady," he said in a low voice.
"It may be in my power, but it is not in my will," she answered, setting her lips. "Come, cousin, take us to the dungeon that you have prepared for us."
"As you wish," he said; "follow me." And he led the way across the guard–house, through a sleeping–chamber of the priests that lay behind it, to the further wall that was hidden by a curtain.
This curtain, on being drawn, revealed a small stone door, which Mattai, having first lit some lamps that stood ready in the chamber, unlocked with a key which hung at his girdle. One by one we passed through the door, Tikal preceding us, and Mattai, with others of the great lords, to the number of six, following after us. Beyond the door lay a flight of twenty steps, then came a gate of copper bars. On the further side of this gate were flight upon flight of steps, joined together by landings, and running, now in this direction now in that, into the bowels of the mighty pyramid. At length, when my limbs were weary of descending so many stairs, we found ourselves in front of other gates, larger and more beautifully worked than those that we had already passed. Presently they clanged behind us, and we stood in a vast apartment or hall that was built in the heart of the pyramid. It would seem that this hall had been made ready for our coming, for it was lighted with many silver lamps, and in one part of it rugs were laid and on them stood tables and seats. So great was the place that the light of the lamps shone in it only as stars shine in the sky, still, as we passed down it, we saw that its roof was vaulted, and that its walls and floor were of white marble finely polished. Once, as we learned afterwards, it had served as the assembly–rooms for the priests of the temple, but now that they were so few it was not used, except from time to time as a prison for offenders of high rank. At intervals along its length were doors leading to sleeping and other chambers. Some of the doors were open, and as we passed them Mattai told us that these were to be our bed–chambers. Then, having announced that food would be brought to us, the nobles, headed by Tikal, withdrew, and we heard the copper gates clash and the echo of their footsteps into nothingness upon the endless stairs.
For a while we stood staring at each other in silence. It was Zibalbay who broke it, and his voice rang strangely in the vaulted place.
"It is his hour now," he said, shaking his fist towards the stair by which Tikal had left us, "but let him pray that mine may never come," and suddenly he turned and, walking to a couch, flung himself upon it and buried his face in his hands.
Maya followed him and, bending down, strove to comfort him, but he waved her away and she came back to us.
"This is a gloomy place," said the señor, in a half whisper, for here one scarcely dared to speak aloud because of the echoes that ran about the walls, "but, dark though it is, it seems safer than the summit of the pyramid, where sword–points are so many," and he pointed to a little cut upon his throat.
"It is safe enough," Maya answered, with a bitter laugh, "and safely will it keep our bones till the world's end, for through those gates and the men that guard them there is no escape, and the death that threatened us in the sunshine shall overtake us in the shadow. Did I not warn you against this mad quest and the seeking of the city of my people? I warned you both, and you would not listen, and now the trouble is at hand and your lives will pay the forfeit for your folly and my father's."
"What must be, must be," answered the señor with a sigh, "but for my part I hope that the worst is past and that they will not kill us. It was your father's rashness which brought these evils on us, and perhaps misfortune may teach him wisdom."
"Never," she answered, shaking her head, "for they are right; on this matter he is mad, as you, Ignatio, are mad also. Come, let us look at our prison, for I have not seen it till this hour," and, taking one of the hand–lamps that stood near, she walked down the length of the hall. At its further end were gates similar to those by which we had entered, and through them came a draught of air.