The Flute of the Gods

For the first time since his marriage, Ka-yemo came face to face with Yahn Tsyn-deh, and quick anger flamed in his eyes as he saw her walk close to the side of Juan Gonzalvo who whispered to her–and her answer was a smile from provocative, half closed eyes.

“Yahn!”–the voice of Ka-yemo was not loud, but hard and full of angry meaning. “The other women of your clan have gone to the hills!”

“Let them go,” said the girl insolently–“I do not go! For these strangers I make the talks to the old men, I am the one woman needful in the valley of P[=o] – s[=o]n-gé!”

It was the hour of her triumph, and Padre Vicente looked at the two keenly. Here was a clash of two savage minds–potent for good or ill.

“To the council I will talk–I am of the people of your father–I am the nearest man–I tell you I forbid you!”

His words fell over each other in anger, and his uncle, the governor, looked at him in reproach–this was not a moment for private quarrel.

“Are you so!–the nearest?” and Yahn showed her teeth. “I do not see it so. I stand near two other men, and am well content!”

She stood between Gonzalvo and Chico, and smiled on the latter, who frankly smiled a response–at that moment Yahn was happy in her defiance. Ka-yemo need not think her forsaken! She had caught fish without a net! To the governor José was speaking; at once there were signs of delight among the listeners. One of the old men was of his clan–other of his people were alive–and all had thought never to look on him again, it was a good day at Povi-whah!

José showed them his wife, who was greeted with joy, and all proceeded to the court of the village, where, at the house of the governor, they were given cooked corn of the feast, then rolls of bread, and stew of deer meat.

José told of his days as a slave until he was traded into the land of Padre Vicente, and of the great desire of Padre Vicente to bring him back in some lucky year to his people, and also to see with his own eyes the fine land of the Te-huas. He added also that the padre had been very kind, and that he was near to the white god of the men of iron, and strong in medicine of the spirit world.

“We already know that the medicine of the men of iron is strong medicine–and that their gods listen,” said the governor.

“Also Tahn-té the Po-Ahtun-ho makes it seen that the mountain god of this land, and the young god of the Castilian land, were maybe brothers,”–said Po-tzah watching closely the faces of the strangers. “Only your god made talking leaves–and our god gave us only the sunshine to see things for ourselves.”

“Where is this man who tells you that books are made and that false gods are brothers to the true?” inquired Padre Vicente.

“It is the Po-Ahtun-ho,” said José before Yahn could speak. “In Castilian he would be called Cacique. The word in Maya for that ruler is the same word as in Te-hua. It is a very old word. It is the head of the highest order of the Spirit Things. It is what you call maybe Pope. There are many priests, and many medicine men in each village. There is only one Cacique at one time.”

“Which of these men may it be?” inquired Padre Vicente. Yahn it was who answered.

“The Cacique of Povi-whah is not seen by every stranger who walks by the river,” she said, and smiled scornfully. “He has come out of the mountain from the dance to the greatest of gods, and after that dance it is not easy to talk to earth people!”

“But–when people come from the far lands of a strange king–”

“That is the business of the governor and of the war capitan,” stated Yahn. “He who is named Cacique in this land has not to do with strangers in the valley. His mind is with the Spirit Things. These are the heads of the village of Povi-whah–here also is the governor of Kah-po. They will listen, and learn from your words, and answer you.”

“I know words,” stated Ka-yemo looking at Don Ruy and the priest. “I can say words–I teach it her,”–and he motioned to Yahn, who had dwarfed them all with quick wit and glib speech. “Woman not need in council. I–captain of war can make talk.”

“Is not the damsel enlisted as official interpreter for one of us?” queried Don Ruy. “I hold it best that the bond be understood lest the beauty be sent beyond reach–and some of our best men squander time on her trail! Since you, good father, have José,–I will lay claim to this Cleopatra who calls herself by another name,–a fire brand should be kept within vision. Your pardon, Eminence–and you to the head of the council in all else!”

The padre directed his conversation to Ka-yemo, while the secretary set down the claiming of Yahn as the first official act in council of His Excellency Don Ruy de Sandoval.

At the scratching of the quill, his excellency looked over the shoulder of the lad, and read the words, and smiled with his eyes, while his lips muttered dire threats–even to discharging him from office if the records were kept in a manner detrimental.

“Detrimental to whom, my lord?” asked the lad, who saw well the restrained smile. “Your ‘Doña Bradamante’ of the scarf is not to set eyes on these serious pages,–and the Don Diego will certainly exact that I keep record of how near our company falls in the wake of the Capitan Coronado’s–their troubles began about a wife–thus it is well to keep count of fair favorites–and this one who tells you plainly she is no wife, looks promising. Helena of Trois might have had no more charms to her discredit!”

Don Ruy said no more, for he saw that Yahn was straining her ears to catch at their meaning, and they were all losing the words of council. It appeared plain that all the chief men were quite willing that the Po-Ahtun-ho should meet the men of iron as was the padre’s wish–but that no one could command it.

“Through what power is one man more supreme than others?–Yet you say you have no king!”

“No–no king. The Governor is made so each year by the men in council–only one year–then another man–the Governor gets no corn in trade for his time,–and no other thing, but honor, if he is good! Tahn-té has talked to us in council of kings,–thus we know what a king does. We have no king.”

“But while a man is the governor does he not rule all the people?”

“No–it is not so. He works for the people. He has a right hand man, and a left hand man to talk with of all things. But when it is a big thing of trouble or of need, at that time the council is called, and each man speaks, and in the end each man put a black bean or a white bean in a jar to say for him ‘yes’ or to say for him ‘no.’ That is how the law is made in all the villages of the P[=o] – s[=o]n-gé valley. There is no king!”

“We are of a surety in a new world if rulers work only for honor–and get not any of that unless they are good!” decided Don Ruy. “Make record of that novelty, Chico–our worthy Maestro Diego will find no equal of that rule in all Europe!”

“It is well for civilization that it is so!” decided Juan Gonzalvo. “Who is to advance the arts and knightly orders except there be Courts of Pontiff and of Royalty?”

“And the royalty would be a weak stomached lot if they gained not even extra corn for all their sceptre waving, and royal nods;–eh? But what of this Po-Ahtun-ho–this man who is not king–yet who is supreme?”

This query was interpreted by José, and after talk and deliberation one of the oldest men made answer.

“The Po-Ahtun is an order very ancient. When the earth was yet soft, and the rocks wet, and the first people were taught words by the mocking bird,–in that time of our Ancient Fathers, gods spoke to men–and in that time the order of Po-Ahtun was made. It was made that men could work together on earth for spirit good. When the Mountain God, Po-se-yemo, lived as a man on the earth,–he was the chief priest of the Po-Ahtun order. Po-Ahtun means ‘The Ruler of Things from the Beginning.’ Many men belong to the Po-Ahtun, and learn the prayers, and the songs of the prayers. When the Po-Ahtun-ho walks no more on the earth–and his spirit goes on the twilight trail to Those Above, at that time the brothers of the order name the man who is to be Ruler–and he rules also until he dies.

“Then it seems your Cacique is really a king. You but call him by a different name.”

“No–it is not so. Tahn-té has told the men of Povi-whah what a king is. We have no king. A king fights with knife, and with spear, and he, in his own village, punishes the one who does evil, and orders what men work on the water canal for the fields:–and what men make new a broken wall, or what men clean the court which is the property of all. The king and his men say how all these things then must be done. With the people of Povi-whah the governor does these works and orders them done, and has the man whipped if the work he does is bad work. The chief of war does work as do other men, until the Navahu and the Yutahs have to be driven away;–then it is his work to fight them–he is a warrior, but he does king work in war. These are the men who do king work. But we have no king.”

“By our Lady!–’tis a nice distinction,” said Don Ruy as the old man ceased, and the men of Te-hua nodded their appreciation of the old man’s statement. “Save your quill scratching, Chico–until you are in camp. Their eyes show little favor for the work.”

The secretary obediently thrust in his pouch ink horn and quill, and clearly Don Ruy was right, for the bronze faces brightened, and their eyes regarded the young man with approval–the magic of that black water might prove potent and forbidding–never before had it been seen in council.

Padre Vicente had given a cigarro to each man, and while the ancient speaker rested, and José interpreted, all smoked the wonderful smoke from the south, and Chico took occasion to say low to Don Ruy:

“Of all this there is little to make record that is new. Tribes of Mexico have such rules of life. The legends of our people say they came ages ago out of the far North. These are maybe but the children of their brothers who the records say stopped on the way to plant corn, or to hunt, or to rest from travel.”

“Records?–Where are such records?” asked Don Ruy derisively,–“in the royal archives of some mud hut?”

The eyes of Chico flashed fire for one instant; the amazed Spaniard was scarce certain of the anger in the secretary’s face when it changed, and the boy shrugged his shoulders and lit a cigarro.

“It is true, Excellency, that if any Tescucan manuscripts are yet entire, it can be only because some pagan Indian his risked death and torture to hide them in mud hut or cave in the hills. The first holy archbishop of Mexico made bonfires of Indian books because the beauty of them showed plainly they were the work of Satan. Without doubt the act earned the bishop an extra jewel for his heavenly crown!”

“Chico! If you pursue such fancies with determination you may end by being a logician and going to hell!” remarked Don Ruy. “I fear you lack a true Christian spirit, my son. But the records?”

“Only stone carved ones are still visible in the land of Anhuac,” returned the boy. “The good padres say that they deal with the studies of the stars and planets, and other such speculation invented by Satanic power. When I wanted to know about them I was told that my soul was in danger of the pit.”

“And that frightened you?”

“Very much, Excellency:–hence my running away.”

Don Ruy was put to it to know whether or not the boy spoke truth. But his odd freaks of thought had many times the effect of an April sunlight on a day of storm. There was no way of calculating what the next moment would bring–but the unexpected was at least a diversion.

The smoking of the men was half over before Padre Vicente again asked José to state that the way of life of the Te-hua people was a thing of interest to the great king whom the Castilians served, and it would please him much to hear more of the Te-hua ruler who was Cacique.

But the old man was silent. He had talked much, he said.

“He thinks–” said Yahn with quick divination,–“that he would like to know of the strangers who are made welcome here:–and why they come far into a country not their own.”

“We come because we have heard fair things of these people,” was the reply. “Our god tells us all men are brothers on the earth–we come to find new brothers.”

“And if the Navahu come in the night–or the Yutah come many and strong for the corn–whose brother would your god tell you to be at that time?” asked the governor of Kah-po, a tall shrewd faced old man who had not spoken heretofore. Chico showed his teeth in a quickly suppressed smile.

“Our god would tell us,” said Padre Vicente with slowness and duly impressive speech–“that our brothers must be the men who are friends with us.”

“That is good,” agreed the man from Kah-po, and the others said also it was good. Brothers who wore iron coats would be good brothers to have in the time of a war.

“It is as Tahn-té told us of the priests of the white god–they are wise in their thoughts,” said the old man who had insisted there was no king in Povi-whah, or any Te-hua village–“all Tahn-té has told us were true words.”

“He told us also,” said the man from Kah-po–“that the men of iron were not friends to trust.”

“They were other men of iron, not these. These men Tahn-té has not yet seen.”

The Padre gave no hint that he knew enough of Te-hua words to catch the meaning of their discourse. So long as might be, he would keep that secret,–much might depend upon it.

The name Tahn-té met him at every turn–this was the mysterious Ruler–the hidden Cacique or Po-Ahtun-ho–the one chief who gave them no greeting.

“Ask for me what the name means–the name Tahn-té,” he said.

José pointed to a ray of sunlight streaming through the shelter of the vine trellis.

“It means that.”

“And for what cause is a man called Light of the Sun?”

José did not know, but when asked, the ancient man spoke.

“For many reasons, Those Above put the thought of the Sun in the heart of the mother of Tahn-té. Sunlight he was to Povi-whah–you shall see!”

A little boy was carrying on his head a flat basket or tray of reeds, and on it were rolls of bread, and small melons for the feast; at a few words he set down the tray, and darted around a corner–it was a day big in history for him. He was doing the work of his sister who had been sent to the hills–but for this day the work of a girl was great work–it took him so close to the men of iron that his hand could have touched one of them–if his courage had not failed!

He came back with a jar of shining black pottery, and placed it beside the old man, who thrust his hand within and drew out a handful of peaches, dried in the summer sun of a year before.

“This fruit is gathered with prayer each year from the first tree planted by the Summer People in this land,” he said. “To Tahn-té was given by the gods, the trees, and the seeds of the trees. Since the time when Po-se-yemo walked on earth, and brought seeds, no new seeds have been born from blossoms here in the land of Te-hua people. When the gods send a man, they also send a Sign. The sign of Tahn-té was the Flute of the Gods, the trees of this fruit, and another fruit;–also a grain of which food is made. It is a good grain. For all of this we make prayers each year when the fruit is gathered, and when the grain is planted, and for all of this we see why the name of the Sun has been given to Tahn-té. The old men of the Hopi desert say he was born of the falling rain and the light of the moon. We do not know, but his mother knew, and she is wise–and she named him as a child of the Sky would be named.”

The Castilians listened with little enough belief in the god-given Cacique. The peaches and the grain had, without doubt, been brought by Coronado. Juan Gonzalvo said as much, and Yahn told it eagerly to the council, but the old men shook their heads.

The trees were a year old from the seed when Tahn-té carried them on his back from the heart of the desert, and Capitan Coronado had not yet seen the villages of the P[=o] – s[=o]n-gé, called by him the Rio Grande.

“Then:–” said Padre Vicente–“it is because he found new seeds that he is above the cares of the daily life? I can bring many strange seeds from the gardens of Europe or Africa. For that would I be a son of the moon and the stars?”

“May be so,–” said the old man,–“and maybe so the gods would not need a son on that day.” He inhaled the fragrant smoke and went on to make clear to these people of outlands some little gleam of the mysteries circling holy things,–“You must be born in a good year–and a good time in that year–the trail of the visitors of the sky must be climbing up–up!”

“The trail of the visitors in the sky?” The Padre looked with quickness into the bronze faces.

“He means the planets–the wandering stars,” said Chico. “The Mexican tribes also watch them when a child is born. A god lives in each one–so they think!”

“Necromantic fancies devised by the Evil one!” stated the priest and crossed himself to ostracise such powers of the demon from the circle. The rest devoutedly imitated him, and the Te-hua men watched with interest the men of iron making their “medicine” against the celestial bodies on the descending trail.–That slight automatic gesture in unison proved even a sort of bond between them and the dusky old orator;–he could plainly see that the signs in the heavens were earnestly regarded by the white strangers. That showed they were wise to read the true things; for that he could tell them more.

“The maid who was mother to Tahn-té is named The Woman of the Twilight. When little, the spirit of her broke in two–and she went into the Land of Twilight. Her parents could not believe that she would no more walk on the earth. They went to the Po-Ahtun–they sealed her to that order–so it was, and the medicine prayer of the Po-Ahtun brought back the breath to her. But when a spirit goes to the Land of the Twilight, it does not come back at once–not all at once! The gods are strong and can do things. When they want to take her again and teach her hidden things–they take her! One Star visitor in the sky took her when she became woman, and hid her behind all the hills until her child moved,–then, in the far desert where the Sun Father is the great god, there in that place she was laid on the sands beside a well that the child be earth child like other men. That is how it was, and she knows why the earth child was called the child of the Great Star, and of the Sky.”

Yahn listened eagerly–and with sulky frown–Neither she or Ka-yemo had ever before heard this account of the Woman of the Twilight and her son. The magic of it made her feel sullenly helpless. This then was the reason why no face smiled in scorn when Tahn-té would come sometimes from mesa, or cañon, bearing his mother in his arms as one would bear a little child:–all the elders knew she had been seeking the trail to the Land of Twilight where long ago she had found a god, and lost herself.

“And this woman tells to wise men a fable like this–and is given their faith?” asked Padre Vicente, while Juan Gonzalvo muttered that the savages had stolen the truth of the Mother of God, and should be made pay dear in good time, for the sacrilege!

“The mouth of the woman was sealed,” stated the narrator. “But the wise men of the desert sent men to tell the Te-hua people of the magic of the woman. And the years and the work of her son made good the stories of the Hopi men.”

“We have here no mere juggling pretender,” remarked Padre Vicente–“a Cacique whose mother establishes family connection with the stars in the sky, could in truth have papal power among these heathen! With all their wise looks, and careful speech, these old men are not the influence we have to win for progress in this land:–this man who would place the false gods above the true God is the man to be won.”

“Or to be conquered!” said Juan Gonzalvo whose wonder was that the priest had patience with their maudlin tales of village officers, or brats born of magic and the moon,–“If I might speak–Eminence?”

“Speak–my son.”

“These people have sent their women away, and have told your reverence only of their own things of pride. Of their real king they give us no sight. In the New Spain of the South these under-men would be given few presents of value, and not so much of your gracious time.”

He spoke rapidly with a wary eye on the interpreters,–only José could follow the swifter speech.

“Capitan Gonzalvo gives the word of a soldier, Padre,” remarked Don Ruy, “and it may be a true word. Why not give the gifts, and let us see somewhat of the feast from which we have won these dignitaries?”

Padre Vicente was agreed, and spoke a few words to José who departed with his wife for the camp. The priest gave tobacco, and while the old men smoked the new medicine, he talked to Ka-yemo of the one religion, and the one God, and that the great new god gave the command to his priests to go into the far lands and carry the light of the faith to his children who live in darkness.

Ka-yemo interpreted, and the old men nodded their heads as if to say that was all good–but it was not told for the first time, and Don Ruy could have sworn he saw the governor of Kah-po smile at another man–as one who would question whether they should be considered as children. Don Ruy did not know that one man of Kah-po had been among the two hundred human torches making the night bright at Tiguex by order of advocates of that same new and holy god.

The summers and winters since that time had not made it all forgotten in the land of the great river. To the Indian mind in general, it was plain to be seen that the strong god of the men of iron required that many victims be made sacrifice at one time. The gods of the Te-hua people asked but one sacrifice at one time, and the knife of flint was very sharp, and found quickly the heart, and the spirit self was sent quickly and with prayers over the trail of the dusk to the Light beyond the light.

Ka-yemo alone seemed enchained by the words of the priest, as he heard again the words and phrases belonging to that time of which he still dreamed in the night, and awoke startled and alert.

Yahn watched him with a little frown. She did not know that the strongest power ever impressed on his boyish mind, had been the power of the white conquerors. He had through the years grown away from its influence, but at sight of the robe, and the cord, and the shiny black beads, it all came back. He felt the honor of the fact that the priest of that strong god was looking at, and talking only to him:–Ka-yemo!

His pride made his eyes kindle and he was very handsome. Don Ruy wondered why Yahn, his own official interpreter, looked at him sideways with disapproval.

José returned with his hands full of the gifts for which he had been sent. There was one for each of the men in the group, and the people of the village pressed close around the door to see them given away.

Then Padre Vicente stood up and offered to the governor of Povi-whah a rosary like his own, but of brown beads.

“They tell me that to you requests are made as prayers are made, and that from you they are given again to the Cacique for decision. We present our request and our gift. Tell him the gift is one kings have been graciously pleased to wear, and that our request is that he meet us at an early hour, that we may speak in kindness of many things.”

“Tahn-té–you call Cacique–is not yet speaking with people out of his order,” said Phen-tza, the governor. “But this can go, and the message can go, and on another day Tahn-té may ask you to go in his door.”

Then there were clasping of hands, and friendly smiles and the visitors were free to go or wander about the village, and watch the greetings of José and the comrades of his boyhood. His wife Ysobel was caressed and admired by the ancient women of the tribe, and a garland of flowers placed on her head. At sun rise in the morning she was to present herself at the door of her new relatives for the baptism of adoption, and then she would be given also a Te-hua name.

Padre Vicente and the Castilians were offered an empty abode outside the wall. Despite the scowls of the Ka-yemo Yahn delighted to linger close as might be to Juan Gonzalvo while they all walked to inspect it. Then the Castilian camp with its wondrous animals was to be visited by the governor and other Te-hua men, and great good feeling prevailed. The wise ecclesiastical head of the cavalcade had asked nothing but gracious thoughts, and the gifts he brought had been good gifts.