That man was Guatemoc, my friend and
blood brother, the nephew of the two last emperors and the husband of
my wife's sister, Montezuma's daughter, Tecuichpo. All knew it, I say,
except, strangely enough, Guatemoc himself, for as we passed into the
council he named two other princes, saying that without doubt the choice
lay between them.
It was a splendid and a solemn sight, that gathering of the four great
lords, the electors, dressed in their magnificent robes, and of the
lesser council of confirmation of three hundred lords and princes, who
sat without the circle but in hearing of all that passed. Very solemn
also was the prayer of the high priest, who, clad in his robes of sable,
seemed like a blot of ink dropped on a glitter of gold. Thus he prayed:
'O god, thou who art everywhere and seest all, knowest that Cuitlahua
our king is gathered to thee. Thou hast set him beneath thy footstool
and there he rests in his rest. He has travelled that road which we must
travel every one, he has reached the royal inhabitations of our dead,
the home of everlasting shadows. There where none shall trouble him he
is sunk in sleep. His brief labours are accomplished, and soiled with
sin and sorrow, he has gone to thee. Thou gavest him joys to taste
but not to drink; the glory of empire passed before his eyes like the
madness of a dream.
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