Heart of the World

Chapter XXI The Marriage of Maya

Presently the door opened and the señor was led into the Sanctuary, as he thought to his death, for I saw that his teeth were set and that his hand was clenched as though to defend himself. But as he came the most of the Council rose and bowed to him, crying:

"Hail to you! Son of the Sea, Favoured of Heaven, Father fore–ordained of the Deliverer to come!"

Then he knew that the plot had succeeded, and he uttered a great sigh of relief.

"Hearken, white lord," said Mattai, for Tikal sat still and scowled on him in silence; "the gods have spoken by their oracle. As Zibalbay thought, so it is, and your feet have been led for a purpose to the gates of the City of the Heart. Listen to the words of the gods"—and, taking the tablet, he read to him the false prophecy. "Now choose, White Man. Will you take the Lady Maya to wife, or will you be put to death in that, having wandered to the City of the Heart, you refuse to obey the command of its gods?"

Now the señor thought and answered:

"The man would be foolish who hesitated between death and so fair and sweet a bride. Still, this is a matter that I cannot decide alone. What says the Lady Maya?"

"She says," answered Maya, "that although this is a marriage for which she did not look, and it is a new thing that a daughter of the Heart should take a stranger of less ancient blood to husband, the will of Heaven is her will, and the lord that Heaven chooses for her shall be her lord"—and she stretched out her hand to the señor.

He took it, and, bending down, kissed her fingers, saying:

"May I be worthy of your choice, Lady."

Now I thought that the ceremonies were finished, and was glad, for I grew weary of assisting at this farce, but the old priest, Zibalbay's foster–brother, rose and said:

"One thing more must be done, Brethren, before we leave this Sanctuary, and it is to swear in these strangers as members of the Council. They have wandered here from far, and here with us they must live and die, seeing that both of them know our secrets, and one of them is predestined to become the father of that great lord for whose arising we have looked for many generations, and therefore, until the child is born, he must be watched and guarded as priests watch a sacred fire."

"Ay! it is well thought of. Let them be sworn, and learn that to break the oath is death," was the answer.

Then Mattai rose, as Keeper of the Sanctuary, and said:

"You, White Man, Son of the Sea, and you, Ignatio, the Wanderer, a Lord of the Heart, do swear upon the holy symbol of the Heart, the oath to break which is to die horribly in this world and to be lost everlastingly in the worlds that are to be. You swear, setting in pledge your souls and bodies for the fulfilment of the oath, that neither by word nor sign nor deed will you reveal aught of the mysteries or the councils of this Brotherhood, whereof you will be the faithful servants till your deaths, holding it supreme above every power upon earth. You swear that you will not possess yourselves of the treasures of the City of the Heart, nor, without the consent of this high Brotherhood, attempt to leave its gates or to bring any stranger within its walls. These things you swear with your hands upon the altar, setting in pledge your souls and bodies for the fulfilment of the oath."

Other clauses there were also which I have forgotten, but this was the substance of the vow that was dictated to us. We looked at each other helplessly, and then, there being no escape, we swore, kneeling before the altar, with our hands resting upon it.

As the solemn words of confirmation passed our lips, we heard a sound of the movement of heavy stones behind us.

"Arise now," said the old priest, "turn, Brethren, and look upon that which lies behind you."

We obeyed, and the next instant shrank back against the altar in alarm, for within six feet of us a massive stone in the floor had been lifted, revealing the mouth of a well, from the deep recesses of which came the distant sound of rushing waters.

"Behold, Brethren," he went on, "and should the oath which you have sworn be broken in a single letter, learn after what fashion you must suffer for your sins. Into that pit you shall be cast, that the water may choke your breath, and the demons of the under–world may prey upon your souls through all eternity. Have you seen, and, seeing, do you understand?"

"We have seen, and we understand," we answered.

"Then let the mouth of the pit be sealed again, and pray you in your hearts that it may never be opened to receive the living body of you or of any of us. Son of the Sea, and you, Ignatio the Wanderer, the oaths have been sworn, and the ceremony is finished. Henceforth till your deaths you are of our number, sharers in our rights and privileges, and to you will be assigned houses, attendants and revenues fitted to your station. Go forth, Brethren, that you may refresh yourselves, and prepare to meet the people upon the summit of the pyramid at dawn; that is, within an hour. Lead them away with you, my Lord Mattai."

So we went, leaving behind us the talisman of the Broken Heart, for the priests refused to return it to me, saying that at length the tokens named Day and Night had come together in their ancient place, and henceforth there they must bide for ever. Accompanied by Maya, Mattai, and the escort of priests, we passed through the halls and passages out into the courtyard of the temple, and thence to apartments in the palace, where we refreshed ourselves with food, for we were weary.

The trick had succeeded, the ordeal was past, and for the present at least we were no longer in danger of our lives: more, the power of Mattai was confirmed, and his daughter was assured in her position as the wife of Tikal; and the señor and the Lady Maya were about to attain to the fulness of their desire, and to be declared one in the presence of the people. Yet never did I partake of a sadder meal, or behold faces more oppressed by care and the fear of the future; for, though nothing was said, in our hearts each of us knew that we had become parties to a crime, and that sooner or later, in this way or in that, our evil–doing would find us out. Putting this matter aside, I myself had good reason to mourn, seeing that, whatever the others had gained, I had won nothing; moreover I found myself bound by a solemn oath not even to attempt to leave this city whither I had journeyed with such high hopes. Well, the thing was done, and it was useless to regret it or to think of the future, so, turning to Mattai, I asked him what was to happen on the pyramid.

"There will be a great gathering of the people," he answered, "as is customary at dawn after the night of the Rising of Waters, and there they will be told all that has happened in the Sanctuary, and then, if it is their will, Tikal will be confirmed as cacique according to the bargain, and either to–day or to–morrow the white man here will become the husband of the Lady Maya, in order"—he added with a sneer—"that of their union may be born the Deliverer who is to be. Now, if you are ready, it is time for us to go, for the multitude is gathered, and an escort waits us without."

Leaving the palace we placed ourselves in the centre of a party of nobles and guards who were in attendance, and marched across the courtyard and up the steps of the pyramid. The night was growing grey with the breaking of the dawn, and in the pearly light, through which the stars shone faintly, we perceived that bands of priests and nobles, wrapped in their broidered serapes—for the morning air was chilly—stood in their appointed places round the altar. In front of them were ranged the dense masses of the people, drawn here to make their prayers upon this feast day, and also by desire to learn the truth as to the death of Zibalbay; the fate of the strangers who had accompanied him from the unknown lands; the decision of the Council as to the successor to the place and power of cacique; and lastly, whether or no the oracle of the god had spoken to his priests upon this or any other matter when the lost talisman was set in its place in the Sanctuary.

On reaching the altar, seats were given to us among the nobles of the Heart, those of Maya and the señor being placed in such fashion that they would be visible to the whole multitude.

Then followed a silence, till at length a priest who was stationed upon the roof of the watch–house blew a silver trumpet and proclaimed that the dawn was broken, whereon bands of singers who were in readiness began to chant a very beautiful hymn of which the refrain was caught up by the audience. As they sang, a beam from the rising sun struck upon the fire that burned above the altar, and again the trumpet sounded. Then, in the silence that followed, the priest who stood by the fire, clothed in white robes, prayed in a loud voice, saying:

"O god, our god, let our sins die with the dying year. O god, our god, strengthen us with thy strength, comfort us with thy comfort during the day that is to be. O god, our god, have pity upon us, lift us from the darkness of the past, and give us light in the coming time. Hear us, Heart of Heaven, hear us!"

He ceased, and from the surrounding gloom many voices made response, saying: "Hear us, Heart of Heaven, hear us!"

Then for a space the old priest stood still, the firelight flickering on his tall form and rapt countenance as he gazed towards the east. Greyer and more grey grew the gloom, till of a sudden a ray from the unrisen sun shot through the shadows like a spear and fell athwart the summit of the pyramid, paling the holy fire, that seemed to shrink before it. At the coming of the sunbeam the multitude of worshippers—men and women together—rose from the marble pavement whereon they had been kneeling in prayer, and, casting off the dark cloaks which covered their white robes, they turned, extending their arms towards the east, and cried with one accord:

"Hail to thee, O sun! bringer of all good things. Hail to thee, new–born child of god!"

Now the light grew fast, and soon the city appeared, rising white and beautiful from its veil of mist; and, as the glory of the daylight fell upon it, other priests who stood by the altar uttered prayers appointed to be offered upon this day of the beginning of the Rising of Waters. To the People of the Heart the occasion was a great one, seeing that but little rain falls in their country, and thus they depend for a bountiful harvest upon the inundation of the island and of the low shores that lay around the lake by its waters swollen with the melted snow of the great mountains on the mainland. When the waters retreated, then they planted their grain in rich land made fertile by the mud, without labour to themselves, whence, before the lake rose again, they gathered their corn and other crops.

When they had ended their praying, and gifts of fresh flowers had been laid upon the altar by beautiful children chosen for that purpose, Tikal blessed the multitude as high priest, and the simple ceremony came to an end.

Then Mattai rose to speak, telling the people all things that had happened, or so much of them as it was expedient that they should know. He told them of the death of Zibalbay, of the setting of the lost talisman in the symbol, and of the writing which was found therein, which he read aloud to them amidst a dead silence. Then he told them how the Lady Maya and the white man had consented to be married in obedience to the voice of the oracle; and lastly, how she, the Lady Maya, had desired that her cousin Tikal should continue to be cacique of the City of the Heart, that she might have more leisure to attend upon her heaven–sent husband, and to be at rest until that child was become a man, whose wisdom and power should make them even greater than their forefathers had been.

When he had finished his address there was much applause and other expressions of joy, and a spokesman from among the people asked when the marriage of the white man, Son of the Sea, to the Lady Maya, would take place.

This question she answered in person, saying modestly that it was her lord's will that it should take place that very night in the banqueting–hall of the palace, and that a great feast should be celebrated in honour of it.

After this the talking came to an end, Tikal having said no word, good or bad, beyond such as the duties of his office required; and according to the custom of the country many people, noble and simple, came forward to congratulate her who was about to be made a bride. Weary of watching them and of hearing their pretty speeches, I took advantage of the escort of a friendly noble and went to see the ceremony of the closing of the flood–gate, a huge block of marble that slid down a groove into a niche prepared to receive it, where it was fastened with great bars of copper and sealed by certain officers, although, so I was told, the rising water would not reach it for another eight or ten days. Even though the flood should prove to be a low one, it was death to break those seals for a space of four full months, and during all this time any who would leave the city must do so by means of ladders reaching from the wall to little wooden jetties, where boats were moored. Afterwards we walked round the walls and through some of the main streets, and I marvelled at the greatness of this half–deserted place, for the most of it was in ruins, and at the many strange sights that I saw in it. Indeed, I think that Mexico, in the time of Montezuma, my forefather, was not more powerful or populous than this town must have been in the days of its prosperity.

About midday I returned to the apartments that had been assigned to me in the palace, and, hearing that the señor was still in attendance upon the Lady Maya, I ate my dinner alone with such appetite as I could find, and lay down to sleep awhile.

I was awakened from my rest by the señor, who arrived, looking merry as he used to be before ever Molas came to lead us to the old Indian doctor and his daughter, and full of talk about the preparations for his wedding that night. I listened to all he had to say, and strove earnestly to fall into his mood, but, as I suppose, without effect, for in the end he fell into mine, which was but a sad one, and began to talk regretfully of the past and doubtfully of the future. Now I did my best to cheer him, but with little avail, for he shook his head and said:

"Indian as she is, I love Maya, and no other woman has been or can be so much to me; and yet I am afraid, Ignatio, for this marriage is ill–omened, and I pray that what was begun in trickery may not end in desolation. Also the future is black both for you and for me. You came here from a certain purpose and will desire to leave again to follow your purpose; nor, although I take this lady to wife, do I wish to spend my days in the City of the Heart. And yet it would seem that, unless we can escape, this is what we must do."

"Let us hope that we shall be able to escape," I answered.

"I doubt it," he said, "for already I have discovered that, though we be treated with all honour, yet we shall be closely watched, or at least I shall, for certain reasons. Still, come what may, I trust that this marriage will make no breach in our friendship, Ignatio."

"I do not know, señor," I answered, "though I think that for weeks its shadow has laid between us, and I fear lest that shadow should deepen. Also it has been fated that women and their loves should come between me, my ambitions, and my friends. From the moment that my eyes fell upon the Lady Maya bound to the altar in the chapel of the hacienda, I felt that her great beauty would bring trouble upon us, and it would seem that my heart did not lie to me. Now, under her guidance, we have entered upon a dark and doubtful path, whereof no man can see the end."

"Yes," he answered, "but we took that path in order to save our lives."

"She took it, not to save her life, on which I think she sets little store, but to win a husband whom she desires. For my part I hold that it would have been better for us to die, if God so willed it, than to live on with hearts fouled by deceit, seeing that in the end die we must, but no years of added life can wear away that stain. Well, this must seem sad talk to the ears of a bridegroom. Forget it, friend, and rest awhile that you may do credit to the marriage–feast."

Without answering, the señor lay down upon the bed, where he remained—whether sleeping or awake I do not know—till the hour of sunset, when he was aroused by the arrival of several lords and attendants who came to lead him to the bath. On his return other messengers entered, bearing magnificent robes and jewels, the gift of the Lady Maya, to be worn by him and by me at the ceremony. Then, barbers having trimmed and scented his fair hair and beard according to the fashion of this people, he was decked out like a victim for the sacrifice.

So soon as all was prepared, the doors were flung wide, and six officers of the palace came through them, bearing wands of office in their hands, accompanied by a troop of singing–girls chosen for their loveliness, which, to speak truth, was not small. In the midst of these officers and ladies the señor was placed, and, followed by myself, who walked behind with a heavy heart, he set out for the banqueting–hall. As we reached it the doors were thrown open and the singers set up a love song, pretty enough, but so foolish that I have forgotten it. We passed the threshold and found that the great hall was crowded with guests arrayed in their most brilliant attire, whereon the lamplight shone bravely. Through this company we walked till we reached an open space at the far end of the hall, around which in a semicircle sat the members of the Council of the Heart, Tikal and his wife being placed in the centre of them, having Mattai on their right, and on their left that old priest Dimas, the foster–brother of Zibalbay, who had administered the oath to us.

As we advanced, with one exception, all the Council rose and bowed to the señor. That exception was Tikal, who stared straight before him and did not move. Scarcely had they resumed their seats when the sound of singing was heard again, mingled with that of music, and far away at the foot of the long hall appeared a band of musicians playing upon pipes of reeds, clad in the royal livery of green, and crowned with oak–leaves. After the musicians marched, or rather danced, a number of young girls robed in white only, and carrying white lilies in their hands, which they threw upon the floor to be trodden by the feet of the bride. Next came Maya herself, a sight of beauty such as stirred even my cold heart, and caused me to think more gently of the señor, who had become party to a trick to win her. She also was arrayed in white, embroidered with gold, and having the symbol of the Heart blazoned on her breast; about her waist and neck were a girdle and collar of priceless emeralds; on her head was set a tiara of perfect pearls taken in past ages from the shell–fish of the lake, and round her wrists and ankles were bangles of dead gold. Her waving hair hung loose almost to her sandalled feet, and in her hand, as a token of her rank, she bore a little golden sceptre, having at one end a great pearl, and at the other a heart–shaped emerald. On she came, or rather floated, her delicate head held high; and so strange and beautiful was the aspect of her face, that for my part, from the instant that I beheld it till she stood before me by the bridegroom, I seemed to see naught else. It was very pale and somewhat set; indeed at that moment Maya looked more like a white woman than one of Indian blood, and her curved lips were parted as though they waited for some forgotten words to pass them. Her deep–blue eyes also were set wide, and, beneath the shadow of their lashes, seemed full of mystery and wonder, like the eyes of one who walks in her sleep and beholds things invisible to the waking sight. Presently they fell upon the eyes of the señor, and of a sudden grew human, while the red blood mantled on her breast and arms and brow.

Then for me the spell was broken, and I glanced at Tikal and saw that on his face was that same look with which he had greeted Maya when, on the night of his own wedding–feast, he beheld her whom he believed to be dead, standing before him clothed in life and beauty. Eagerly, despairingly, he watched her, and I noticed that tears stood in his angry eyes, and that a gust of jealous rage shook him from head to foot when he saw her flush with joy at the sight of his white rival. From Tikal my glance travelled to the dark beauty at his side, Nahua, his wife, and became aware that in this instant she grew certain of what perhaps before she only guessed, that in his heart her husband loathed her, as with all his soul and strength he loved the affianced of his youth who stood before him the bride of another man. Doubt, fear, rage looked out in turn from her ominous eyes as the knowledge went home, to be succeeded by a possessing misery, the misery of one who knows that all which makes life good to her is for ever lost. Then, pressing her hands to her heart for a moment, she turned aside to hide her shame and wretchedness, and when she looked up again her face was calm as the face of a statue, but on it was frozen a mask of unchanging hate—hate of the woman who had robbed her.

Now the bridegroom and the bride stood together in the open space surrounded by the half circle of the Council of the Heart, among whom I was given a seat, while behind them were arranged the musicians and singing–girls, and behind these again pressed the glittering audience of marriage–guests. When all were in their places a herald rose and cried out the names and titles of the pair, reciting briefly that they were to be wed by the direct command of the guardian god of the city, by the wish of the Council of the Heart, and because of the love that they bore one another. Next, reading from a written roll, he published the text of the agreement whereby Maya renounced her right as ruler in favour of her cousin Tikal, and I noticed that this agreement was received by the company in cold silence and with some few expressions of disapproval. Lastly, from another roll he read the list of the honours, prerogatives, offices, wealth, houses, and servants which were thereby assigned to the Lady Maya and her consort, and also to myself their friend, for the maintenance of their rank and dignity and of my comfort.

Having finished his task, he asked the señor and Maya whether they had heard all that he had read by command of the Council, and, if so, whether they approved thereof. They bowed their heads in assent, whereupon the herald turned, and, addressing Tikal by all his titles, called upon him, in virtue of his priestly office and of his position as chief of the state, to make these two one in the face of the people, according to the ancient custom of the land.

Tikal heard him and rose from his seat as though to commence the service, then sank down again, saying:

"Seek some other priest, Herald, for this thing I will not do."