For many months the high priest and king had hidden himself from the sight of man, high in the mountains that overlook the Quiché plain. In his _casa verde_ he was engaged in prayer and meditation, while his only food was fruit and uncooked maiz. His body was unclothed, but stained with dismal dyes; and twice every day, as the sun rose and set, he cut himself with an obsidian knife on his arms, legs, tongue, and genitals, that he might offer his choicest blood to the divinity he worshipped. Once only in his life must he do this; and scattered in the remote mountain-hermitages were many nobles keeping him company in the spirit. These were the fathers of the young men who had not yet offered their blood, and had been selected to be the god-children of their king and priest. In these lonely retreats the fathers taught their sons manly duties, and drew their blood from the five wounds.[38] The votaries had gathered from their various cells at the sound of the drum, which was beaten only on most solemn occasions, and were marching in procession to the Plaza. I could see them as they filed on to the narrow causeway that led into the town, and then they were lost to sight as they climbed the steep ascent. In profound silence these men and youths, naked as they were born, entered the enclosure and seated themselves at the foot of the altar-steps. The solemn silence was now suddenly broken by a crash of trumpets and drums, while a procession of a different kind took up its march to the temple. Bright colors and the gleam of gold and precious stones, the clang of barbaric music and the sound of holy songs, reached the eye and ear as the idols, which had been carefully concealed since the last fiesta, were now brought to the place of sacrifice. Strange things these were,—not of “heaven above, nor the earth beneath, nor of the waters which are under the earth,” but carved from wood and stone and decked with beaten gold, hung with jewels, and borne triumphantly on the shoulders of the noblest citizens. Then all was joy and bustle in the Plaza. The hermits were clothed with new robes and welcomed back with honor, the high priest put on his robes and mitre, and for a while the people gave themselves up to music and dancing and ball-playing; it seemed as if life had no other end. But a terrible solemnity was to come. Even among the dancers I saw men clothed in a peculiar but rich garb,—generally of another people, but not always foreign; and I knew that these men had for days before the festival gone freely through the town, entered any house, even the royal palace, where the food they sought was freely given them, and they were treated with marked respect. Outside the city-walls were some of them, with collars about their necks, attended by four officers of the king’s guard. Food, drink, and even the women were free to these honored men; but they were captives taken in war, or perhaps men who were obnoxious to the king, and were to be sacrificed to Tohil.