Then will the sun rise again, and a new cycle begin for the earth. The gods will be appeased, and mankind will be saved.”
Jack had read of this terrible superstition in the fascinating pages of Prescott, but he never expected that he would one day take an active part in such a ceremony. With the hope of despair he endeavoured to evade his doom.
“But the body of a white man will not please the gods. Why not sacrifice as your ancestors did, on the Hill of the Star?”
“Hitherto, Señor, that has been done. Now, however, the gods have spoken through the opal, and it is willed that a white man alone can avert the end of time. A white man must be sacrificed, and you are chosen.”
Jack shuddered, and hid his face in his hands.
“Surely, Señor, you are not afraid!”
“Afraid!” echoed Jack, uncovering his face, with a frown. “No, Cocom; an Englishman is never afraid of death. But to come in such a form as this—oh, horrible! horrible!”
Cocom could not understand this alarm. Like all Indians, he regarded death with stoical resignation, and would have been perfectly willing himself to have been offered on the altar of sacrifice, seeing such a death would admit him at once into the Paradise of the sun. But he was very old, and therefore useless. The gods demanded a man, handsome, young, in the flower of his age, and therefore was it certain that Jack would be acceptable to the bloodthirsty Huitzilopochtli.
“Did Don Hypolito know this when he delivered me to your friends?”
“It was for that purpose he delivered you, Señor.”
“Oh, fiend! devil!” cried Jack, trying to rise in his bed. “I wish I had my fingers round his throat!”
“Lie quiet, Señor,” said Cocom, forcing him back. “You will make yourself ill again.”
“Why should I not, seeing I am only reserved for this frightful death?”
“That is as it may be, Señor,” observed Cocom, significantly.
“What do you mean?” asked Duval, with sudden hope.
“Hush!” replied the old man, laying his finger on his lips, and glancing apprehensively around. “In this temple the very walls have ears.”
“You can save me?”
“Perhaps. I know not.”
“But——”
Cocom bent over Jack on the pretence of arranging the bed-clothes, and brought his lips close to the young man’s ear.
“Say not a word, Señor. If the priests suspect me, you are lost. I come hither as my fathers came before me, but I worship not the devil-stone. I am a true Catholic, Señor. The priests wanted a victim, and asked me to betray to them Don Pedro, when he was with me beyond the walls. Then I refused, and said I could not do so. The end of the cycle approaches, and the priests were alarmed, so they sent to Don Hypolito, and promised to make all the Indians help him in his war, if he procured them a white man for a victim to the gods. Don Hypolito promised, and two days ago sent you.”
“The fiends!”
“Hush! I am a medicine-man, placed here by the priests to cure you; but they think I wish to see you sacrificed. I do not. I will save you.”
“Oh, Cocom, I thank you.”
“Are you mad, Señor?” whispered the Indian, thrusting him hurriedly back; “eyes may be on us now. The walls of this room are pierced with secret eye-places.”
Jack recognised the wisdom of this reasoning, and sank back on his couch. It was just as well he did so, for at that very moment the drapery of the door was swept aside, and a man entered the room.
He was a majestic-looking personage, much taller than the average Indian. Indeed, he was as huge as Tim himself, but not so bulky. He wore a long white robe, falling to his feet, over this a mantle of gaudy leather-work. On his head was set a fresh chaplet of flowers, on his breast burned the red glimmer of a small opal. Advancing into the middle of the room, he swung a small incense-burner before Jack, throwing therein some odoriferous gum, which made a thick, perfumed smoke. After this, he cast some flowers on the couch, and muttered a few words with uplifted hands, finally ending the ceremony by falling on his knees.
“What does this mean?” asked Jack of Cocom, who stood reverently on one side, observing all this mummery.
“Hush, Señor! He adores you as a god.”
“Devil take him and his worship,” muttered Jack, crossly, in English. Then the priest spoke in the Indian tongue, and Cocom translated his speech to Jack.
“Is my lord better in health?” asked the priest.
“Tell him I am; but I don’t care about being preserved for sacrifice.”
“Speak not so, Don Juan,” said Cocom, in Spanish, with a look of alarm; “you are not supposed to know anything of that. I told you on the peril of my life.”
“Then tell him whatever lies you please!” said Duval, viciously, and, rolling over, turned his back on the priest.
“A bad sign!” murmured the priest, looking anxiously at Cocom. “Is my lord angered?”
“Nay,” replied Cocom, in the Indian tongue; “my lord is much improved in health, oh, Ixtlilxochitl; but as with all who are ill at ease, he is fretful and wanting in courtesy.”
“It is true,” replied Ixtlilxochitl, reverently. “The sick are ever foolish. See that thou make him strong, Cocom, for the gods accept naught but blooming health.”
“Oh, my sacred lord; he will be cured in two days from now. Cocom knows of magic herbs whereby the favourite of Huitzilopochtli can be made whole. Let Ixtlilxochitl be content, my lord will be pure and strong for the sacrifice.”
“It is well,” said the priest, rising from his knees. “I will leave my lord to his sleep; but will he not vouchsafe one glance at his servant?”
Instructed by Cocom, Jack was forced to turn round and smile at the priest, who knelt down to receive this mark of favour. Then he adored Jack with more incense and flowers, after which he withdrew with reverent genuflections.
“The old fiend!” muttered Jack, when the drapery had again veiled the door. “I should like to have sent a boot at his head.”
“Hush, my lord Juan.”
“Carrai! why should I? That devil-monkey does not understand Spanish.”
“No, Señor. Still, it is wiser to risk nothing.”
“You are quite right, Cocom. I place myself entirely in your hands. Save me, and I promise you I shall not forget you.”
“Cocom will save you, for the sake of Don Miguel,” said the old man, proudly; “and for the sake of the lady Dolores.”
“Dolores!”
