Cipriano stood before the statue of Huitzilopochtli, dipped his hand in a stone bowl, and giving the loud cry or whoop of Huitzilopochtli, lifted up his red hand. His guard uttered the loud cry, and quickly filed past, each man dipping his hand and raising his wet, red fist. The hard drums of Huitzilopochtli rattled like madness in the church, then fell suddenly silent.
Ramón: “Why is your hand red, Huitzilopochtli, my brother?”
Cipriano: “It is the blood of the treacherous, Oh Quetzalcoatl.”
Ramón: “What have they betrayed?”
Cipriano: “The yellow sun and the heart of darkness; the hearts of men, and the buds of women. While they lived, the Morning Star could not be seen.”
Ramón: “And are they verily dead?”
Cipriano: “Verily dead, my Lord.”
Ramón: “Their blood is shed?”
Cipriano: “Yes, my Lord, save that the grey dogs shed no blood. Two died the bloodless death of the grey dogs, three died in blood.”
Ramón: “Give me the blood of the three, my brother Huitzilopochtli, to sprinkle the fire.”
Cipriano brought the stone bowl, and the little bunch of black leaves from Huitzilopochtli’s idol. Ramón slowly, gently, sprinkled a little blood on the fire, with the black leaves.
He gave back the bowl and the leaves to Huitzilopochtli, who placed them by the black idol.