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                              THE INFIDEL;

                         OR, THE FALL OF MEXICO.

                               A ROMANCE.

                       BY THE AUTHOR OF "CALAVAR."


    SECOND EDITION.

    IN TWO VOLUMES.

    VOL. I.

    Philadelphia:
    CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD.
    1835.

    Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year
    1835, by CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD, in the Clerk's Office
    of the District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

    PHILADELPHIA

    C. SHERMAN & CO. PRINTERS, NO. 19 ST. JAMES STREET.

    --Un esforcado soldado, que se dezia _Lerma_--Se fue entre los Indios
    como aburrido de temor del mismo Cortes, a quien avia ayudado a salvar
    la vida, por ciertas cosas de enojo que Cortes contra èl tuvo, que
    aqui no declaro por su honor: nunca mas supimos del vivo, ni muerto,
    mala suspecha tuvimos.

    BERNAL DIAZ DEL CASTILLO--_Hist. Verd de la Conquista_.

    No hay mal que por bien no venga,
    Dicen adagios vulgares.

    CALPERON--_La Dama Duende_.





THE INFIDEL.




CHAPTER I.


The traveller, who wanders at the present day along the northern and
eastern borders of the Lake of Tezcuco, searches in vain for those
monuments of aboriginal grandeur, which surrounded it in the age of
Montezuma. The lake itself, which not so much from the saltness of its
flood as from the vastness of its expanse, was called by Cortes the Sea
of Anahuac, is no longer worthy of the name. The labours of that unhappy
race of men, whose bondage the famous Conquistador cemented in the blood
of their forefathers, have conducted, through the bowels of a mountain,
the waters of its great tributaries, the pools of San Cristobal and
Zumpango; and these, rushing down the channel of the Tula, or river of
Montezuma, and mingled with the surges of the great Gulf, support fleets
of modern argosies, instead of piraguas and chinampas, and expend upon
foundering ships-of-war the wrath, which, in their ancient beds, was
wasted upon reeds and bulrushes. With the waters, which rippled through
their streets, have vanished the numberless towns and cities, that once
beautified the margin of the Alpine sea; the towers have fallen, the
lofty pyramids melted into earth or air, and the palaces and tombs of
kings will be looked for in vain, under tangled copses of thistle and
prickly-pear.

The royal city of Tezcuco is now, though the capital of a republican
state, a mean and insignificant village. It was originally the
metropolis of a kingdom once more ancient and powerful than that of
Mexico; and which, when it had shared the fate of all others within the
bounds of Anahuac, and acknowledged the sway of the Island Kings, still
preserved the reputed, and perhaps the real possession of superior
civilization. Its princes, in becoming the feudatories, became also the
electors, of Mexico; and thus added dignity to an independence which was
only nominal. The polished character of these barbarous chieftains, as
the world has been taught to esteem them, may be better understood, when
we know, that they sowed the roadside with corn for the sustenance of
travellers, and the protection of husbandmen, built hospitals and
observatories, endowed colleges and formed associations of literature
and science, in which, to compare small things with great, as in the
learned societies of modern Europe and America, encouragement was given
to the study of history, poetry, music, painting, astronomy, and natural
magic. The various mechanical trades were divided into corporate bodies,
and assigned, each, to some particular quarter of the city; courts and
councils were regularly established, and the laws which they dispensed,
digested into uniform and written codes, some of which are still
preserved. The kings of Tezcuco themselves mingled in the generous
rivalries which they fomented: there are still in existence,--at least,
in the form of translation,--several of the odes of Nezahualcojotl, a
royal Tezcucan poet; and his hymns to the Creator, composed half a
century before the advent of the Spaniards, were admired and chanted by
the Conquerors, until devoted by misjudging and fanatical missionaries
to the flames which consumed the written histories and laws of the
kingdom, as well as the idolatrous rituals of the priests, with which
last the others were unfortunately confounded.[1]

[Footnote 1: These poems, we presume, were handed down _orally_. We know
not how far the picture-writing of the Mexicans (the art of interpreting
which appears to be now lost,) was capable of conveying any such
thoughts as could not be represented by an absolute _portrait_. No
system of writing that is not essentially _phonetic_ or _dialectical_,
(i. e. representative of sounds, or of language,) can be made to express
abstract ideas, which may be defined to be such as admit of no
ideographic or metaphoric representation. If they could, mankind might,
at once, enjoy the benefits of the _universal language_, (or, to speak
strictly, a substitute for it; for it would convey ideas not words,)
which Leibnitz dreamed of, and Bishop Wilkins, and many others after
him, so vainly attempted to construct.

When, therefore, we relate any very curious and marvellous matters,
appertaining to Mexican _literature_, though we speak upon the authority
of historians, we invite the reader to receive our accounts with some
grains of allowance. With the exception of a few arbitrary symbols,
expressive of numerals, and a few other objects of constant recurrence,
the picture-writing of Mexico spoke in ideas, not words; and it may
therefore be assumed, that it could express nothing that did not, or by
a stretch of ingenuity, could not be made to, address and explain itself
to the eye.]

A few ruins--a cluster of dilapidated houses--a galloping Creole on his
high Spanish saddle, with glittering _manga_ and rattling
_anquera_,--and, now and then, an Indian skulking moodily along, in his
squalid _serape_,[2]--are all that remain of Tezcuco.

[Footnote 2: The Manga and Serape are Mexican cloaks worn
scapulary-wise, the one of richly embroidered cloth, the other of
blanket, or some such coarse material. The Anquera is a leather housing,
embossed and gilt, with a jingling fringe of brass or silver ornaments.]

In the spring of 1521, the year that followed the flight of the
Spaniards from Mexico, the city of the Acolhuacanese presented all its
grandeur of aspect, and, to the eye, looked full as royal and
imperishable as in the best days of its freedom. But the molewarp was
digging at its foundations; and the cloud which had ravaged the Mexican
valley, and then passed away into the east, where it lay for a time
still and small, 'like to a man's hand,' had again crept over the
mountain barriers to its gates, and was now brooding among its
sanctuaries. A group of Christian men sat under a cypress-tree, without
the walls, regarding the great pyramid, on whose lofty terrace,
overshadowing the surrounding edifices, floated a crimson banner of
velvet and gold, on which, besides the royal arms of Spain, was
emblazoned, as on the Labarum of the Constantines, a white cross, with
the legend, imitated from that famous standard of fanaticism, _In hoc
signo vincemus_. If other proof had been wanting of the return of the
Spaniards to the scene of their discomfiture, their presence in Tezcuco,
and their unchangeable resolution to complete the work of conquest so
disastrously begun, it might have been traced abundantly in the strange
spectacle, which, equally with the desecrated temple, divided the
attention of the group of Castilians at the cypress-tree. They sat on a
little swell of earth,--a natural mound which jutted into the lake,
whose waters, agitated by a western breeze, dashed in musical breakers
at its base; while the rustling of the leaves above, mingled with these
sounds of waves, a tone that was both melancholy and harmonious. The
beautiful prospect of Tezcuco, rising beyond fertile meadows in the
livery of spring, flanked, on the right hand, by a sheet of dark and
glossy water,--with white towers, turrets, and temple-tops, painted, as
it seemed, on a background of mountains of the purest azure, was enough
of itself to engross the admiration of a looker-on, had there not been
presented, hard by, a scene still more singular and romantic.

A train of warriors, artificers and labourers, the latter bending under
such burthens as had never before descended to the verge of Tezcuco, was
seen passing, at a little distance, towards the city, into which, as was
denoted by a sudden explosion of artillery and the blast of trumpets on
the top of the pyramid, the leaders were just entering, while the rear
of the procession, extending for miles, and winding like some mighty
snake, over hill and meadow, was lost among distant forests.

The martial salutation from the town was answered by the whole train
with a yell, filling the air, and causing the distant hills and lakes to
tremble with the reverberation. In this, the ear might detect, besides
the war-cry of Indians, "Tlascala, Tlascala!" the not less piercing
shouts of Spaniards, "In the name of God and Santiago!" as well as the
flourish of bugles, scattered at intervals among the train. If the broad
Sea of Anahuac trembled at the sound, it was with good reason; for the
clamour of triumph indicated the approach of those unknown naval
engines, which were to plough its undefiled bosom, and convert every
billow into the vassal of the stranger. On the shoulders of eight
thousand Tlascalans, were borne the materials for the construction of
thirteen brigantines, with which the unconquerable Spaniard, capable of
every expedient, meditated the complete investment and the certain
reduction of Tenochtitlan. The iron, the sails, and cordage of that
fleet which he had caused to be broken up and sunk in the harbour of
Vera Cruz, were added to planks, spars, and timbers from the sierras of
Tlascala, and to pitch and rosin from the _pinales_, or pine-forests, of
Huexotzinco,--a gloomy and broken desert, notorious, in the present day,
as the haunt of bandits, the most brutal and merciless in the world.

The brawny carriers of these massive materials were protected, on the
front and in the rear, by legions of their countrymen, armed, after
their wild and romantic way, and clad in tunics of cotton or maguey
cloth, with tiaras of feathers; who passed by in successive bodies of
spearmen, archers, slingers, and swordsmen, arranged and divided in the
manner of their Christian confederates. Besides these guards of front
and rear, of whom the historian Herrera asserts, there were 180,000,
while even the modest Clavigero computes their numbers at full one-sixth
of this vast host, there were on either flank, bodies of picked
warriors, marching in company with small bands of Spaniards, and
personally led by distinguished Christian cavaliers. A military man may
form a juster estimate of the numbers of the train, by being told, that
it formed a line more than six miles in length, the whole marching
compactly, and in strict order, so as to be best able to resist an
attack of enemies.

The Spaniards under the cypress-tree, surveyed this striking spectacle
with interest, but not with the grave wonder and absorbing admiration of
men unfamiliar with such scenes. On the contrary, it was evident, from
the tone of the remarks with which they wiled away the time of
observation, (for it was many a long hour before the last of the train
drew in sight,) that they were of that levity of spirit, or in that
wantonness of mood, which can find matter for ridicule in the most
serious of occurrences. Thus, they beheld, or fancied they beheld,
somewhat that was diverting in the persons, or motions, of the stern and
warlike Tlascalans, and especially in the zealous eagerness with which
these barbarians strove to imitate the bearing and gait, as well as the
evolutions, of their disciplined associates. Nay, their raillery was
extended even to the Spanish portion of the train; and, sometimes, when
a comrade passed by, if near enough to be made sensible of the jest, he
was saluted with some such outpouring of wit, as put to the proof either
his gravity or his patience.

These happy individuals, to whom we desire to introduce the reader, were
five in number, and, with a single exception, though betraying none of
the submissiveness of inferior personages, were evidently of no very
exalted rank in the Christian army. Their attire was plain, and
consisted, for the most part, of the cumbrous escaupil, or
cotton-armour, over which, in the case of one or two, at least, were
buckled a few plates of iron. Most of them had on their heads, helmets,
or rather caps, of the same flimsy material, sometimes so thickly padded
as to assume the bulk, as well as the appearance of rude turbans; all
wore swords, and two had crossbows hanging at their backs. No
distinction of station could have been inferred from their manner of
discoursing one with another; and it was only by the morion of bright
steel, richly inlaid with gold, on the head of one, and the polished
hauberk on his chest, worn more for display than for any present
service, that the wearer would have been recognized as of a grade
superior to that of his companions. He was a tall and athletic cavalier,
with a long chin, and cheeks broad and bony; and a singular and rather
unpleasing expression was added to his countenance by eyes
disproportionably small, though exceedingly black, keen, and resolute. A
small, sharply peaked beard,--mustaches so thin, long, and straight,
that they looked rather like the drooping locks of a woman than the
favourites of a vain gallant,--a narrow but lofty forehead, on either
side of which, divided and smoothed with effeminate care, fell masses of
straight black hair, touched, yet almost invisibly, with the traces of
matured manhood,--a small mouth,--a prominent nose,--and a complexion
exceedingly dark, yet rather of the hue of iron than mahogany, completed
a visage which a stranger would not have hesitated to attribute to a man
of decided character, but without daring to determine whether that was
of good or evil.

The individual who would have been the second to attract the notice of a
wayfarer, owed this distinction rather to his personal deformity than to
any other very striking characteristic. He was a hunchback, with much of
the saturnine and sour expression which distinguishes the countenances
of the deformed, and yet of a spirit so much belied by his looks, that
he heard, recognized, and constantly replied to, without anger, the
nickname of _Corcobado_, or the humpbacked, to which his misfortune
exposed him. The most observable peculiarity in his countenance, was the
uncommon length of his nose, which so far intruded upon the lower part
of his visage, as to give this a look of age, which was contradicted,
not only by other features, but by the prodigious muscularity of his
shoulders and arms. It must be confessed, however, that his lower
extremities were entirely unworthy to compare with the upper, being both
so short and thin, that when he stood upon his feet, his arms crossed
behind,--which was their ordinary position,--with the stout iron plates
protruding from both back and breast, he looked rather like a bundle of
armour and garments, exposed to the air and supported above the earth on
two broken pikestaves or javelins, than a living and human creature.

The next individual was a man of good stature, who would have been
considered, notwithstanding his grey hairs, the strongest man in the
company, had it not been for his general emaciation and an expression of
suffering on a countenance over which disease, contracted among the hot
and humid swamps of the coast, had cast the sickliest hues of jaundice.
Indeed, this discolouration, on a visage naturally none of the fairest,
was of so deep a tint, that it had gained for the invalid, as well as
for a whole ship's crew of his companions, the significant title of _Ojo
Verde_, or the Green Eye. And here we may as well observe, that, in the
army of Cortes, the wit which shows itself in the invention of such
distinctions, was so prevalent, that there was scarce a man, from the
general down to his groom or scullion, who had not been honoured by at
least _one_ sobriquet.

The fourth personage was a man of indifferent figure, remarkable for
little save the marvellous sweetness of his eyes, which were set among
features exceedingly sharp and harsh, and the volubility of his tongue.

The fifth sat apart from the others, a little down the slope of the
hillock, with tablets in his hands, yet so plunged in abstraction, or so
much wrapped up in the contemplation of the dark lake, the little
piraguas dancing over its billows, and the far-distant turrets of the
infidel city, that he seemed to have forgotten, not only the presence of
his companions, and the passing procession, but the purpose for which he
had drawn forth his writing implements.

The sound of the cannon, as we have said, was immediately responded to
by the shouts of the train; which, commencing at the gates of the city,
were continued and prolonged by the various bodies that composed the
huge and moving mass, until they died away in the distance, like peals
of rolling thunder. At the same time, the Indians struck their tabours,
and sounded their conches and cane-flutes, in rivalry with the Spanish
buglers; and a din was made, which, for a time, put a stop to the
conversation of the four Castilians. It also startled the solitary man
from his meditations, but only for an instant. He rose, turned his eye
listlessly towards the procession, and then again resuming his seat, he
was presently sunk in as profound abstraction as before.

In the meanwhile, the cavalier of the helmet had bent his gaze upon the
pyramid, from the top of which the cannon-smoke was driving slowly away
like a cloud, and revealing the proud banner, which it had for a moment
enveloped. He could see, even at this distance, that the two stone
turrets,--the idol-chambers,--on the summit, were crowned with crosses,
and that the flag-staff,--a tall cedar, that might have made a mast for
an admiral's ship,--was surrounded by a tent, or rather pavilion, of
native white cloth, broadly striped with crimson, which glittered
brilliantly at its foot. As he looked he stroked his beard, and
muttered, addressing himself to the hunchback,

"Harkee, Najara, man! give me the benefit of thy thoughts, and care not
if they come out like crab-apples. What thinkest thou of Cortes now? Is
there not something over-stately and very regal-like in the present
condition of his temper?"

"Why dost thou ask that of _me_, when thou hast Villafana at thy elbow?"
replied the hunchback, with a voice worthy the acerbity of his aspect:
"if thou wilt have dirty water, get thee to the ditch."

"You call me _Gruñidor_, and grumbler I am," said he of the sweet eyes,
with a laugh. "I grumble when I am in the humour; and I care not who
knows it. Am I a ditch, old sinner? I'faith, I must be, when I have such
ill weeds as thyself growing about me. Wilt thou have _my_ thoughts,
señor Guzman, on this subject? I can speak them."

"Be quick, then," said the cavalier; "for Corcobado is digesting an
answer to thy fling, which will leave thee speechless."

"Pho, I will bandy mudballs with him at any moment," said Villafana: "I
care not for the buffets of a friend. As for the noble señor, the
Captain General, what you say is true. The king's letter hath set him
mad. While the Bishop of Burgos was still in power, and his enemy, he
was e'en a good companion,--a comrade, and no master. Demonios! 'twas a
better thing for us, when his authority rested on our good-will, and no
royal patent."

"Ay," said Guzman; "when we were but rebels and exiles, denounced by the
governor, cursed by the priest, and outlawed by the king, Cortes was the
most moderate, humble, and loving rogue of us all. I do think, he is
somewhat altered."

"Oh, señor, there is no such bond for our friendship as a consciousness
of dependence upon those who love us; and nothing so efficacious in
cooling us to friends, as the discovery that we can do without them. His
authority is no longer our gift; the bishop has fallen; the king has
acknowledged his claims, and sent him, besides a fair, lawful commission
and goodly reinforcements both of men and arms, a letter of commendation
written with his own royal hands. May his majesty live a thousand years!
but would to heaven his letter were at the bottom of the sea. It has
brought us a hard master. Can your favour solve me the riddle of the
king's change? What argument has so operated on his mind, that he now
does honour to a man he once condemned as a traitor, and advances him
into such power as leaves him independent even of the Governor of the
Islands?"

"The very same argument," replied Guzman, "which has turned thee--a
friend of Velasquez--into the most devoted, though grumbling adherent of
our Captain--_interest_, sirrah, interest. It is manifest, that this
empire was made to be won; and equally apparent, that the man who could
half subdue it, though trammelled and opposed by all the arts and power
of Velasquez, was the fittest to conclude the good work; and what was no
less persuasive, it was plain, our valiant Don was fully determined to
do the work himself, without much questioning whether the king would or
not."

"Why, by heaven!" cried Villafana, "you make out the general to be a
traitor, indeed!"

"Ay;--for, in certain cases, there is virtue in treason."

"Hark now to Villafana!" cried the hunchback, abruptly: "he will thank
you for the maxim, as if 'twere a mass for his soul."

"_I_, curmudgeon?" exclaimed the grumbler. "There were a virtue in it,
could it bring such fellows as thyself to the block. What I aver, is,
that the king's honours have spoiled our general. By'r lady, I see not
what good can come of sending us a Royal Treasurer, Franciscan friars
with bulls of St. Peter, and Lady Abbesses to build up nunneries, unless
to make up more state for our leader."

"Then art thou more thick-pated than I thought thee," replied the
cavalier. "The bulls will make us somewhat stronger of heart, and
therefore better gatherers of gold in a land where gold is not to be had
without fighting. La Monjonaza will sanctify our efforts, by converting
the women; and the king's Treasurer will see that we do not cheat the
king, after we have got our rewards, as, it is rumoured, we have done
somewhat already."

"Santos! I know what thou art pointing at, Don Francisco," said
Villafana, significantly. "The four hundred thousand crowns that have
vanished out of the treasury, hah! This is a matter that has stained the
General's honour for ever. And as for La Monjonaza, thou knowest there
are dark thoughts about her."

"Have a care," said Don Francisco. "We are friends, and friends may
speak their minds: but I cannot hear thee abuse Don Hernan."

"Hast thou never been as free thyself?" cried Villafana, with a laugh,
which mingled a careless derision with good-humour. "Come, now,--confess
thou wert pleased to be appointed Grand Guardian and Chamberlain,--or,
if thou wilt, Grand Vizier,--to his god-son, the young king of Tezcuco;
and that, since he gave thee Lerma's horse, thou hast been better
mounted than any other cavalier in the army."

"Thou art an ass. Cortes has ever been my friend; and when I have
complained, as I have sometimes done, it was only like a good house-dog,
who howls in the night-watches, because he has nothing better to amuse
him. But hold,--look! the carriers are passed. The rear-guard
approaches. Now is my friend Sandoval yonder, betwixt the two Tlascalan
chiefs, glorified in his imagination. 'Slid! he would have had me
exchange my brown Bobadil for his raw-boned Motacila!--Come, Najara, rub
up thy wit; fling me some sweet word into the teeth of the Tlascalan
generals. Dost thou perceive with what solemn visages they approach us?"

"I perceive," said Najara, "that Xicotencal is in no mood for jesting.
It is said, he comes to join us with his power reluctantly. Dost thou
see how he stalks by himself, frowning? A maravedi to a ducat, he would
sooner take us by the throat than the hand!"

"Why then, be quick, show him thy scorn in a fillip."

"Hast thou forgotten it has been decreed a matter for the bastinado, to
abuse an ally?"

"Ay!" cried Villafana, "there is another fruit of a king's patent. One
may neither laugh nor scold, gamble nor play truant, but straight he is
told of a decree. Faith, when Cortes was our plain Captain, it was
another matter: if there was aught to be done or not to do, it was then,
in simple phrase, 'I commend to your favours,' or, 'I beg of your
friendships, do me this thing,' or, 'do it not,' as was needful. But now
the Captain-General deals only in decrees or proclamations, wherein we
have commands for exhortations, prohibitions in place of dissuasions,
and, withal, a plentiful garnishing of stocks and dungeons, whips and
halters, all in the king's name. By Santiago! there is too much state in
this."

"Pho! thou art an Alguazil; why shouldst thou care?" said the Cavalier.
"The decrees are wholesome, the restrictions wise. It is right, we
should not displease the Republicans: they are our best friends,--very
quick and jealous too; and we were but a scotched snake without them."

"If they fight our battles," said Villafana, "they divide our spoil. In
my mind, that black-faced Xicotencal is a villain and traitor."

"Thy judgment is better, in such matters, than another's," said the
hunchback.

"Right!" cried Guzman; "the Alguazil will be presently in his own
stocks, if thou dost heat him into a quarrel. We are not forbidden to
abuse one another. Let the red jackalls pass by unnoticed; we have mirth
enough among ourselves,--we will worry our Immortality. Look, Najara,
man; dost thou not see in what perplexity of cogitation he is
involved,--yonder dull Bernal? Rouse him with a quip, now; pierce him
with a jest. Come, stir; rub thy nose, make thy wit as sharp as a goad,
and prick the ox out of his slumber."

"Ay, good Corcobado," cried Villafana, turning from the procession, and
mischievously eyeing their solitary and abstracted companion, "fling out
the legs of thy understanding, like a rough horse, and see if thou canst
not strike fire out of his flinty brain. All the scratching in the world
will not do it."

"Now, were you not both besotted, and bent upon self-destruction," said
the deformed, regarding the pair with a commiserating sneer, "you would
not ask me to disturb our Immortality; who is, at this moment,
meditating by what possible stretch of benevolence he can hand your
names down to posterity; a thing, which if _he_ do not effect, you may
be sure, nobody else will. Señor Guzman, 'twas but a half-hour since,
that he asked me, if I could, upon mine own knowledge, acquaint him with
any act of thine worthy of commemoration."

"Ay, indeed!" said the cavalier, laughing; "was Bernal of this mind,
then? He asked thee this question? By my faith, have I not killed as
many Indians as another? Have I not encountered as many risks, and
endured as many knocks? Out upon the misbelieving caitiff! he asked thee
this question? Thy reply now? pr'ythee, thy learned answer to this
foolish interrogatory? What saidst thou, now, in good truth?"

"In good truth, then," replied Najara, with a sour gravity, "I told him,
I had it, upon excellent authority, though I believed it not myself,
that thou wert a cavalier, equal to any, in the virtues of a
soldier,--bold, quick, and resolute,--cool and fiery,--a lover of peril,
a relisher of blood; one that had won more gold than he could pocket,
more slaves than he could make marketable, and more renown than he cared
to boast of; a prudent captain, yet a better follower, because of the
ardour of his temper, which was, indeed, upon occasion, so hot, that,
sometimes, it was feared, he might take Cortes by the beard, for being
too faint-hearted."

"Oh, thou rogue, thou merry thing of vinegar, thou hast belied me!"
cried Guzman; "thou knowest, I would sooner eat my arms,--lance,
buckler, and all,--than lift my hand against the General: I would, by my
troth, for I love him. But come, now,--thou saidst all this, upon good
authority? You jest, you rogue,--we are all jealous and envious. We have
good words from none but Cortes.--What authority?"

"Marry, upon that of thine own lips," replied the hunchback; "for I know
not who else could have invented so liberally."

"Out!" cried the cavalier, somewhat intemperately; "you presume--"

"Ha! ha! a truce, a truce, Don Francisco!" exclaimed Villafana; "a fair
hit--no quarrelling; for captain though thou be, thou knowest I am sworn
Alguazil, as well as head-turnkey, chief executioner, and the Lord knows
what beside. No wrath among friends--A very justifiable, fair hit!
Najara must have his ways. Thou wilt see, by and by, how he will lay
_me_ by the ears. Come, Corcobado, begin.--He who plays with colts, must
look to be kicked.--Come now, be sharp, fear not; I am a dog, and love
thee all the better for cudgelling."

"I know thou art, and I know thou dost," said Najara; "for I remember,
that ever since Don Hernan had thee scourged, for abusing the Tlascalan
woman, thou hast been a more loving hound than any other of the
Velasquez faction."

"Fuego de dios! Pho,--Good! Ha! ha! very good!" exclaimed Villafana,
laughing, though somewhat disconcerted. "I confess the beating; but then
I have a back to endure it--Hah! A Roland for an Oliver, a kick for a
buffet! Thou liest, though, as to the cause: 'twas for taking the old
senator they call Maxiscatzin by the beard, when he had given me the
first sop of the Maguey-liquor. I was drunk, sirrah, broke rules,
disobeyed orders, and so deserved my guerdon. Wilt thou be satisfied? By
this hand, I grumble not. I should trounce thee for the like
misdemeanour,--that is, if I could find whereon to lay my scourge. Aha!
wilt thou pull noses with me? Come, what saidst thou of me to Bernal? I
bear thee no malice, man;--no, no more than the general.--Drunk indeed?
He should have struck my head off!"

"I told him," said Najara, "that thou wert, in some sense, worthy to be
chronicled."

"Many thanks for that," said Villafana, "were it only on account of the
beating."

"For though thou wert as naturally given to grovelling as a football,
yet wouldst thou as certainly mount, at every kick, as that same bag of
wind."

"Bravo! bravo!" cried the Alguazil, with a roar of delight, in which he
was joined by Guzman; "thou art as witty and unsavoury as ever, and thou
dingest me about the ears as with a pine-tree. What else, cielo mio?
what else saidst thou to Bernal?"

"Simply, that thou hadst more boldness than would be thought of thee,
more dreams than would be reckoned of thy dull brain, and such skill at
rising, notwithstanding the clog of thy folly, that it was manifest thou
wouldst not be content, till thy feet were two fathoms from the earth,
and thy crown as near to the oak-bough as the rope would."

"Oh, fu! fy!" said Villafana, "hast thou no better trope for hanging?
Have you done? Am I despatched? Get thee to better game, then; and see
thou art more metaphoric. Hast thou no verjuice for our good friend
here, Camarga?"

The individual thus alluded to, though giving his attention to the
conversation, had maintained a profound and unsympathetic silence during
all. He stood leaning against the tree, folding over his breast, and
even wrapping about his chin, the long cloak of striped cotton
cloth--the product of the country,--the bright and gaudy colours of
which contrasted unnaturally with the sickly hue of his visage.
Throughout all, when not particularly noticed, his countenance wore an
expression of as much mental as bodily pain; but when thus accosted by
Villafana, it changed at once, and in a remarkable degree, from gloom to
good-humour, and even to apparent gayety. It is true, that, at the
moment when his name was pronounced, he started quickly with a sort of
nervous agitation; and a sudden rush of blood into his face, mingling
with its bilious stain, covered it with the swarthiest purple: but this
immediately passed away--perhaps before any of his comrades had noted
it.

"I cry you mercy, señor Villafana," he said; "I am as unworthy to be
made the butt of wit as the subject of history. My ambition runs not
beyond my conscience; the month that I have spent in this land,--and it
is scarce a month,--has been wasted in disease and idleness. A year
hence, I shall be more worthy your consideration. But tell me, good
friends, is it true, as you say, that yonder worthy soldier hath been
appointed the historian of your brave exploits? By mine honour, his head
seems to me better fitted to receive blows than to remember them, and
his hand to repay them rather than to record."

"He is, truly," said Villafana, "our Immortality, as we call him, or our
Historian, as he denominates himself. As to his appointment, it comes of
his own will, and not of our grace; but we quarrel not with his humours.
He conceives himself called to be our chronicler. Who cares? He can do
no harm. I am told, he doth greatly abuse Cortes, especially in the
matter of the slaves, and the gold we fetched from Mexico in the Flight.
By'r lady, I have heard some sharp things said about that."

"You said them yourself," muttered Najara. "It is well you are in
favour."

"Ay, by my troth," cried Guzman; "_Cuidado_, Villafana! Don Hernan will
be angry. Good luck to you! You are the lion's small dog: seize not his
majesty by the nose."

"Pho, friends! here's a coil," said the Alguazil, stoutly: "Don Hernan
knows me: I will say what I think. I have maintained to his face, that
there was foul work with the gold, and that we have been cheated
of our shares; I have told him what ill work was made of both
Repartimientos,--the partition of the slaves,--at Segura-de-la-Frontera,
and here at Tezcuco,--scurvy, knavish work, señores: One may fetch
angels to the brand, but, ay de mi! the iron turns them into beldames!"

"Ay, there is some truth in that," said Guzman, a little thoughtfully.
"No man honours Don Hernan more than myself; and yet did he suffer me to
be choused out of the princess I fetched from Iztapalapan."

"Ay, the whole army witnessed it, and there was not a man who did not
cry shame on you for taking it so--"

"Good-humouredly," interrupted the cavalier. "Rub me as thou wilt for a
jest, Villafana; but touch me not in soberness."

"Pshaw! can I not abuse thee as a friend, without the apology of a grin?
Thou hadst been used basely, had not Cortes made up the loss with
Lerma's horse. I have heard thee complain as much as another; and even
now, thou art as bitter as any against this mad scheme of the ships.
Demonios! our general will have us rot in the lake, like our friends of
the Noche Triste!"

"Thou errest," said the cavalier, gravely. "I have changed my mind, on
this subject: I perceive we shall conquer this city."

"Wilt thou be sworn to that?" exclaimed the Alguazil, earnestly. "I tell
thee, as a friend, we are all mad, and we are deluded to death. If we
launch the brigantines, we are but gods' meat--food for idols and
cannibals. We were fools to come from Tlascala. Would to Heaven we had
departed with Duero! We are toiled on to our fate, to make Cortes
famous: he will win his renown out of our corses. What sayst thou,
Najara, mi Corcobado, mi Hacedor de Tropos?"

"Even that the will-o-th'-wisps, the Ignes-fatui, rising out of our
decaying bodies, will forsake each honest man's corse, to gather,
glory-wise, about the head of our leader.--Is that to thy liking?"

"Marvellously! Thy wit explains and gives tongue to my thoughts. Thou
seest things clearly--I am glad thou art of my way of thinking. This is
our destiny, if we continue our insane enterprise."

"A pest upon thee, clod!" cried the Hunchback; "I did but supply thee a
simile, in pity of thine own barrenness. _I_ of thy way of thinking?
Dost imagine I will hang with thee? _I_ see things clearly? Marry, I do.
Give tongue to thy thoughts? Ratsbane!"

As Najara spoke, he bent his sour and piercing looks on the Alguazil;
who, much to the surprise of Camarga, grew pale, and snatched at his
dagger, in an ecstasy of rage, greatly disproportioned to the offence,
if such there could be in what seemed idle and unmeaning sarcasms. The
wrath of Villafana, however, was checked by the mirth of the cavalier,
Don Francisco, who exclaimed with the triumph of retaliation,

"A fair knock, by St. Dominic! Art thou laid by the heels, now? Sirrah
Alguazil, if thou showest but an inch more of thy dudgeon, I will have
thee in thine own stocks,--ay, faith, and on thine own block, into the
bargain. Forgettest thou the decree? Death, man, very mortal death to
any one who draws weapon upon a christian comrade: thy hidalgo blood,
(if thou hast any, as thou art ever boasting,) will not save thee. Pho!
thou art notoriously known to be a plotter. Why shouldst thou be angry?"

"_Hombre!_ I am not angry _now_: but, methinks, Corcobado hath the art
of inflaming whatever is combustible in man's body. A good friend were
he for a poor man, in the winter. Why, thou bitter, misjudging,
remorseless, male-shrew, here is my hand, in token I will not maul thee.
Why dost thou ever persecute me with thy hints? By and by, men will come
to believe thou art in earnest. _What_ dost thou see, that I care not to
have exposed? I am a plotter? I grant ye; so Cortes hath called me to my
face a dozen times, or more. I am a grumbler? So he avers, and so I
allow. I must speak what I think; ay, and I must growl, too. All this is
apparent, but it harms me not with the general: he scolds me very oft;
but who stands better in his favour?"

"Thou takest the matter too seriously," said Guzman. "Hast thou no
suspicion that thy self-commendations are tedious?"

"In such case, hadst thou ever any thyself?" demanded the unrelenting
Najara. "Pray, let him go on. Let him draw his dagger, if he will, too.
What care I? I have a better fence than the decree."

"Pshaw, man," said Villafana, "why dost thou take a frown so bitterly? I
will not quarrel with thee. But I would thou couldst be reasonable in
thy fillips: call me a knave openly, if thou wilt; thy insinuations have
the air of seriousness. But come; you have robbed the señor Camarga of
his diversion with Bernal. Lo you now, if our wrangling have disturbed
him a jot! He sits there, like an old horse of a summer's day, patient
and uncomplaining; and, all the time, there are gadfly thoughts
persecuting his imagination."

"Methinks, señores," said Camarga, "you should be curious to know in
what manner the good man records your actions. For my part, I should be
well content to be made better acquainted with them; especially with
those later exploits, since the retreat from Mexico, of which I have
heard only confused and contradictory accounts. Will he suffer us to
examine his chronicles?"

"Suffer us!" cried Guzman; "if you do but give him a grain of
encouragement, never believe me but he will requite you with pounds of
his stupidity. What, have you any curiosity?--Harkee, Bernal, man!--You
shall see how I will rouse him,--Bernal Diaz! Historian! Immortality!
what ho, señor Del Castillo! Are you asleep? Zounds, sirrah, here are
three or four dull fellows, who, for lack of better amusement, are
willing to listen to your history."




CHAPTER II.


At these words, the worthy thus appealed to, woke from his revery, and
staring a moment in some little perplexity at his companions, took up a
long copper-headed spear, which rested on the ground at his side, and
advanced towards them. Viewed at a little distance, the gravity of his
countenance gave him an appearance of age, which vanished on a nearer
inspection. In reality, if his own recorded account can be believed,
(and heaven forbid we should attach any doubt to the representations of
our excellent prototype,) he did not number above twenty-six or
twenty-seven years, and was thus, as he chose to call himself, 'a
stripling.' Young as he was, however, there was not a man in the army of
Cortes who had seen more, or more varied service than Bernal Diaz del
Castillo. His exploits in the New World had commenced seven years
before, among the burning and pestilential fens of Nombre de Dios,--a
place made still more odious to an aspiring youth by the ferocious
dissensions of its inhabitants, and that bloodthirsty jealousy of its
ruler, which had rewarded with the block the man[3] who disclosed to
Spain the broad expanse of the Pacific, and led his subaltern, Pizarro,
to the shores of Peru. With the two adventurers, Cordova and Grijalva,
who had preceded Cortes in the attempt upon the lands of Montezuma,
(discovered by the first,) Bernal Diaz shared the wounds and
misadventures of both expeditions; and he was among the first to join
the standard of Don Hernan, in the third and most successful of the
Spanish descents.

[Footnote 3: Vasco Nuñez de Balboa.]

The hardships he had endured, the constant and unmitigated suffering to
which he had been exposed for seven years, had given him much of the
weatherbeaten look of a veteran, which, added to the sombre gravity of
his visage, caused him to present, at the first sight, the appearance of
a man of forty years or more. His garments were of a dusky red cloth,
padded into escaupil, with back and breast-pieces of iron, over which
was a long cloak of a chocolate colour, well embroidered, and, though
much worn and tarnished, obviously a holiday suit. To these were added a
black velvet hat, ornamented with three flamingo feathers, striking up
like the points of a trident, with the medal of a saint, rudely wrought
in gold, hanging beneath them. His person was brawny, his face full and
inexpressive; his dull grey eyes indicated nothing but simplicity and
absence of mind, or rather inattentiveness; and it required the presence
of many scars of several wounds on his countenance, to convince a
stranger that Bernal actually possessed the fortitude to encounter such
badges of honour.

He approached the group with a heavy and indolent tread, bearing in his
hand a bundle of leaves of maguey paper, such as served the purposes of
the native painters and chroniclers of Anahuac, and with which he was
fain to supply the want of a better material.

"Dost thou hear, señor Inmortalidad?" cried Don Francisco de Guzman, as
the martial annalist took his seat serenely among the Castilians; "art
thou deaf, dumb, or still wrapt in thy seventh heaven, that thou
answerest not a word to my salutations? Zounds, man, I will not ask thee
a second time."

"What is your will?" said Bernal Diaz, "what will you have of me,
señores?" he repeated, surveying each member of the group, one after the
other. "I did think that this being a day of license and rejoicing to so
many of us, I might have an opportunity, not often in my power, of
putting down some things in my journal which it will be well to do,
before setting out on the circuit of the lake, wherein there may happen
some passages to drive from my memory those which are not yet recorded.
But, by my faith, you have talked loud and much, and so disturbed my
mind, that I have entirely lost some things I intended to say. I would
to heaven you would find some other place to your liking, and leave me
alone for a few hours."

"Why, thou infidel!" said Guzman, "if thou likest not our company, why
dost thou not leave it? Dost thou forget thou hast the power of
locomotion? Wilt thou wait for us to depart before thou bethinkest thee
of thine own legs? By'r lady! thou art not yet in thy senses!"

"By my faith, so I can!" said the historian, abruptly, as if the idea
had just entered his mind: "I will go down to the lake shore, where the
sound of the waves will drown your voices. There is something
encouraging to contemplation in the dashing of water; but as for men's
voices, I could never think well, when they were within hearing. I beg
your pardon, all, señores: I will go down."

"What! when here are four fools, who are in the humour of listening to
thee for some seven minutes, or so? ay, man, to thy crazy chronicles!
When wilt thou expect such another audience? Lo you, the señor Camarga
has desired to be made acquainted with your learned lucubrations. Come,
stir; open thy lips, exalt thyself, while thou art alive; for after
death, there is no saying how short a time thou wilt sleep in cobwebs."

"You jeer me, señor Guzman; you laugh at me, gentlemen," said the
soldier, gravely; "and thereby you do yourselves, as well as me, much
wrong. Is it so great a thing for a soldier to write a history? The
valiant Julius Cæsar of Rome recorded, with his own hand, his great
actions in France, Britain, and our own Castile, as I know full well;
for when I was a boy at school, I saw the very book; and sorry I am that
the poverty of my parents denied me such instruction, as might have
enabled me to read it. Then, there was Josephus, the Jewish Captain, who
wrote a history of the fall of Jerusalem, as I have heard from a learned
priest. Besides, there were many Greek soldiers, who did the same thing,
as I have been told; but I never knew much concerning them."

"And hast thou the vanity to talk of Julius Cæsar?" cried Guzman,
laughing.

"Why not?" said the soldier, stoutly; "I have fought almost as many
battles, and I warrant me, my heart is as strong; and were it my fate to
be a general and commander, instead of a poor soldier of fortune in the
ranks, I could myself, as well as another, lead you through these
mischievous Mexicans; who, I will be sworn, are much more valiant
heathens than ever Cæsar found among the French. As far as he was a
soldier, then, I boast to be as good a man as he; ay, by mine honour,
and better too! for I am a Christian man, whereas he was a poor
benighted infidel. As for my history, I will not make bold to compare it
in excellence with his; for it has been told me, that Cæsar was a
scholar, and possessed of the graces and elegancies of style; whereas, I
have myself none of these graces, being ignorant of both Latin and
Greek, and knowing nothing of any tongues, except the Castilian, and
some smattering of this Indian jargon, which I have picked up with much
pains, and, as I may say, at the expense of more beating than one gets
from the schoolmaster. Nevertheless, I flatter myself, that what I write
will be good, because it will be true; for this which I am writing, is
not a history of distant nations or of past events, nor is it composed
of vain reveries and conjectures, such as fill the pages of one who
writes of former ages. I relate those things of which I am an
eye-witness, and not idle reports and hearsay. Truth is sacred and very
valuable. In future days, when men come to make histories of our acts in
this land, their histories will be good, because they will draw them
from me, and not from those vain historiographers who stay at home, and
write down all the lies that people at a distance may say of us. This is
a good thing, and will make my book, when finished, a treasury to men;
but what is better, and what should make it noticeable to yourselves, it
will not, like other histories, say, 'The great hero Cortes did this,'
and 'the mighty commander did that,' giving all the glory to one man
alone; but it will record our achievements in such a way as to show who
performed them, relating that 'this thing was done by the Señor Don
Francisco de Guzman, and this by the valiant soldier Najara, and this by
myself, Bernal Diaz del Castillo,' and so on, each of us according to
our acts."[4]

[Footnote 4: The historical reader will find that the worthy Bernal has
incorporated many of these judicious sentiments in the work he was then
composing, and some almost word for word.]

"What the worthy Del Castillo says, is just," said Camarga; "and whether
his history be elegant or unpolished, he should be encouraged to
continue it. For my own part, I shall be glad when I have performed
anything worthy to be preserved, to know, we have with us a man who will
see that the credit of the act is not bestowed upon another. And, in
this frame of mind, I will stand much indebted to the good señor, if he
will permit me at once, to be made acquainted with the true relation of
certain events, with which I am not yet familiar."

"What will you have?" said Bernal Diaz, much gratified by this proof of
approbation. "You shall hear the truth, and no vain fabrication; for I
call heaven to witness, and I say Amen to it, that I have related
nothing which, being an eye-witness, I do not _know_ to be true; or
which, having the testimony of many others, actors and lookers-on, to
the same, I have not good reason to believe, is true. What, then, will
you have, señor Camarga? Is there any particular battle you choose to be
informed of? Perhaps, I had better begin with the first chapter, which I
have here, written out in full, and which--"

"Fire!" cried Guzman, starting up, "will you drive us away? Zounds! do
you think we will swallow all?"

"Read that chapter," said Najara, "in which you celebrate the exploits
of the señor Guzman."

"I have not," said Diaz, with much simplicity, "I have not yet had
occasion to come to Don Francisco."

"Hear!" cried Villafana, clapping his hands with admiration, in which
the cavalier, after looking a little indignant, thought fit to join.

"Unless indeed," continued the historian, "I should have resolved to
relate the quarrel betwixt his favour, and the young cornet Lerma, (whom
may heaven take to its rest; for there were some good things in the
young man.) But as to this feud, I thought it better for the honour of
both, as well as of another, whom I do not desire to mention with
dispraise, that the matter should be forgotten."

"Put it down, if thou wilt," said Guzman, with a stern aspect. "What I
have done, I have done; and I shame not to have it spoken. If I did not
kill the youth, never believe me if it was not out of pity for his
years; and out of regard to Cortes, with whom he was a favourite."

At these words, which were delivered with the greatest gravity, the
historian raised his eyes to Don Francisco, and regarded him, for a
moment, with surprise. Then shaking his head, and muttering the word
'favourite,' with a voice of incredulity, and even wonder, he held his
peace, with the air of one who locks up in his breast a mystery, which
he has been on the point of imprudently revealing.

"A favourite--I repeat the word," exclaimed Don Francisco, with angry
emphasis; "a favourite, at least, until his folly and baseness were made
apparent to Cortes, and so brought him to disgrace."

"Strong words, Don Francisco!" said Villafana, with a bold tone of
rebuke; "and somewhat _too_ strong to be spoken of a dead enemy. And
besides, without referring to your share in the matter, there are those
in this army, who have other thoughts in relation to the lad. It has
been whispered,--and the honour of Cortes has suffered thereby,--it has
been whispered----"

"By Villafana," exclaimed the hunchback, abruptly and sharply; "by
thyself, certainly, Sir Alguazil, if there be anything in it against the
credit of the general."

"Pshaw! wilt thou buffet me again?" cried Villafana, springing up and
stamping on the earth, though not in anger. "Dost thou know now what
thou art like?"

"Like a thorn in the foot, which, the more you stamp, the more it will
hurt."

"Rather like a stupid ball tied to my leg," said the Alguazil, "which,
without any merit of its own, serves but the dead-weight purpose of
giving me a jerk, turn whichsoever way I will."

"Right!" cried Najara, with a sneer; "you have clapped the ball to the
right leg. We do not so shot honest men."

"Gentlemen, with your leave," said Camarga, willing to divert the storm,
which it seemed Najara's delight to provoke in the breast of the
Alguazil, "with your leave, señores, I must not be robbed of my
curiosity. It was my purpose to ask the señor del Castillo to read me
such portions of his journal as treated, first, of occurrences that
happened after the Noche Triste, and battle of Otumba, and then of the
history and fate of this very young man, whose name is so efficacious in
laying you by the ears. But as I perceive the latter subject is hateful
to you all,--." Here he turned his eyes on Guzman.

"You are deceived," said Don Francisco, drily. "I bear the young man no
malice: the wolf and the dog may roll over carcasses--I have no anger
for bones. He slandered me: being no longer alive, I forgive him. Ask
Bernal what you will, and let him answer what he will: I swear by my
troth, I care not."

"What needs that we should look into noisome caves, when we have green,
wholesome lawns before us?" said Bernal Diaz, hesitating; for, at that
moment, the eyes of all except Guzman, were fastened eagerly on his own.
"I could speak of the quarrel, to be sure, between his favour Don
Francisco and the young colour-bearer; for though, as I said, and for
the reasons stated, I have not put it down in my history, yet do I
remember it very well. But, should I get thus far, I should even persist
with the whole story; for, I know not how it is, I never begin a
relation, and get well advanced in the same, but I am loath to leave it,
till I have recounted all."

"Ay, I'll be sworn, thou art," said Villafana: "thy stories are much
like to a crane's neck; 'tis but a head and bill at first, and an ell or
two of nothing stretched out after."

"Nor am I able," said the worthy Bernal, without stopping to digest the
simile, "to read a full account of those actions the señor Camarga
speaks of, which took place subsequently to our flight from Mexico and
our great victory on the plains of Otumba, for the good reason that I
have not yet composed them; the failure of which is, in a great measure,
the consequence of your loud talking just now, whilst I was addressing
my mind to the same. But, if you will have a verbal relation, señor
Camarga, I will do my best to pleasure you, and that right briefly, and
in true words; for I defy any man to detect falsehood or exaggeration in
what I write."

"Ay, by'r lady!" cried Guzman, who had recovered his good-humour, and
now laughed heartily,--"in what you _write_, honest Bernal; but in what
you say, you are not so infallible."

"You would not let me finish what I was about to say," murmured the
historian.

"No, faith; you would make a day's work of it; whereas I, who am no
wire-drawer of conceits, can despatch the whole thing in a minute. Do
you not see? the rear of the procession is in sight: in half an hour we
shall be summoned into camp. Be content then, scribbler; I quote thy
words, which should be honour enough: 'I defy any man to discover
falsehood or exaggeration in what I say.' Know then, señor
Camarga--after our victory at Otumba, nine months since, we retreated to
Tlascala, four hundred and fifty in number, at which city we rested five
months, curing our wounds, recruiting our forces, and preparing to
resume the war. During this time, the only remarkable incidents
were,--first--the meeting of those goodly knaves who had come with
Narvaez, sworn faith to Cortes, looked at Mexico, and now, being
satisfied with blows and honour, demanded to be sent back to Cuba, to
the great injury and almost destruction of all our hopes. Among the
foremost of these turbulent fellows, was our friend here, Villafana;
who, although he came not with Narvaez, but was sent soon after us by
Velasquez, was ever found consorting with the disaffected, until his
good saint, in some dream of the gallows, brought better thoughts into
his mind, and converted him from an open enemy into a doubtful friend.
Peace, Villafana! I am now playing the historian, and must therefore
tell what I believe to be the truth."

At these words, Villafana, who had opened his mouth to speak, checked
the impulse, nodded, laughed, and composed himself to silence.

"The defection of these men," resumed the cavalier, "and the reduction
of our numbers that followed, (for we were e'en forced to discharge the
more importunate of them,) were requited to us by happy reinforcements
of men, horses, and arms; some of them sent by the foolish Velasquez--"

"Señor Guzman," said Bernal Diaz, "the Governor Velasquez is my
relation. My father was an hidalgo, and his wife, my mother--"

"Oh, I forgot!" said Guzman, nodding to the historian:--"Some sent by
the _sagacious_ Velasquez to his captain, Narvaez, who was in chains at
Villa Rica; some by De Garay, Adelantado of Jamaica, to rob us of our
northern province, Panuco,--and it is supposed that thou, señor Camarga,
with thy crew of sick men, though thou comest so late, and apparently of
thine own good will, wert equipt by the same inconsiderate commander;
and some by the merchants of the Canaries and of Seville, to be
exchanged for our superfluous spoils, which were not then gathered;--no,
by'r lady, nor yet, either. In fine, we became strong enough, by these
means, to recruit our forces among the natives of the land; which we
did, by attacking divers provinces in the neighbourhood of Tlascala, and
compelling their warriors to join our standard, along with the
Tlascalans, who were willing enough,--all save their generalissimo,
Xicotencal. Thus, then, with no mean force of Spaniards, and with
several armies of Indian confederates, we came, 'tis now more than three
months since, to yonder city, Tezcuco, and raised to the throne, (in
place of his brother, who fled to Mexico,) a king of our own choosing;
of whom I have the honour to be chief counsellor and minister, that is
to say, guardian, regent, sponsor, or master, as you may think fit to
esteem me. Here, it has been our good fortune to receive other and
stronger reinforcements, and, as Villafana said, from the king's own
royal bounty, with commissions and orders, priests and crown-officers,
and so on; which circumstances have caused our army to be reorganized,
the whole reduced to a stricter discipline, and civil officers to be
appointed, for the better enforcing of martial law. Here, too, we have
been preparing for the siege and blockade of yonder accursed metropolis,
by bringing ships, (they are on the shoulders of these crawling pagans,)
to give us the command of the lake; and by attacking and destroying the
neighbouring towns, so as to secure possession of the shores. In the
meanwhile, the young cub of an Emperor, Guatimozin, who has succeeded
Cuitlahuatzin, the successor of Montezuma, has been equally busy in
concentrating the warriors of all his faithful provinces in the island,
and providing vast stores of corn and meat, for their subsistence,--as
resolute to resist as we are to assail. The materials for our vessels
being arrived, it is now known, that the time of constructing and
lanching them, will be devoted to an expedition, led by Cortes himself;
in which we will make the circuit of the whole lake, destroying the
rebellious cities on the main, and driving to the island all who may
think fit to resist. When they are thus caged, we shall have them like
pigeons in a net; and good plucking there will be in store for
all.--This is my history, and methinks it should satisfy you."

"It wants nothing to be complete save the episode of the Cornet Lerma,"
said Villafana, with a malicious grin; "and, in requital for the good
turn you have done me, when speaking of the mutiny Tlascala, I will
relate it,--ay, by St. James, I will! frown and storm as you may. The
señor Camarga has avowed his curiosity in the matter. Our dull Bernal,
who is so frequent at boasting he tells naught but truth, has confessed
that he dares not tell _all_ the truth; which, I think, will be somewhat
of a qualification to the belief of his future admirers. Najara, here,
will say naught of any one but myself, and that with a crusty and bitter
obstinacy,--wherein he seems to me to resemble a silly ox, who rubs his
stupid head against a tree, much less to the prejudice of the bark than
his skin. And as for thyself, señor Don Francisco, thou hast but thine
own fashion of telling the story. But I told thee before, there are
those in the army who have another way of thinking; and I am one--I will
not boggle at a truth, like Diaz, because it is somewhat discreditable
to Cortes, or to a chief officer."

"Speak then," said Guzman, gravely; "I have said already I care not. I
know full well how your knavish companions belie me. I say again, I care
not. What you aver as your own belief, I will make free to hold in
consideration: for the reported imputations of others, I release you
from responsibility."

"Oh, I speak not on my own knowledge, nor of my own personal belief,"
said Villafana, "and therefore, (but more especially in consequence of
the decree, señor, the decree!--we will not forget the decree,) I shall
fear neither dagger nor black looks. You called Lerma a 'favourite' of
the general: pho! even Bernal smiled at that!"

"What I have said in that matter," replied Guzman, with composure, "I
will condescend to support with argument. The young man was received
into the household of Cortes, while Cortes was yet a planter of
Santiago: he picked him up, heaven knows where, how, or why, a poor,
vagabond boy. It is notorious to all, that, in those days, Don Hernan
employed him less as a servant than as a son, or younger brother, and as
such, bestowed upon him affection and confidence, as well as the truest
protection. Thou knowest, and if thou art not an infidel altogether,
thou wilt allow, that the sword-cut on the general's left hand was
obtained in a duel which he fought with a man, ('twas the señor
Bocasucia,) who had thrown some sarcasm on the youth's birth, and then
ran him through the body, when he sought for satisfaction."

"I allow all this," said Villafana; "I confess the youth was an ass, to
match his boy's blade against the weapon of the best swordsman in the
island; and I agree that it was both noble and truly affectionate in
Cortes, to take up the quarrel, and so baste the bones of Bocasucia,
that he will remember the correction to his dying day. I allow all this;
and I add to it the greater proof of Don Hernan's love for the youth,
that when Velasquez granted him his commission to subdue these lands, (I
would the sea had swallowed them, some good ten years since!) the
captain did forthwith entrust to the boy the honourable and
distinguished duty of recruiting soldiers for him, in Española, in which
island he was born."

"Ay," quoth Guzman, dryly, "and one may find cause for the general's
anger, in the diligence with which the urchin prosecuted his task, and
the success that crowned it."

"By my faith," said Bernal Diaz, unable any longer to restrain his
desire to take part in a discussion of such historical moment, "the
young man sped well; and that he came to us empty-handed was no cause of
Don Hernan's displeasure, as I have heard Don Hernan say. It was, in the
first place, our haste to embark, when we discovered that the governor
was about to revoke our captain's commission, that caused Lerma to be
left behind us; and, secondly, it was the governor's own act, that Lerma
was not permitted to follow us, with the forces he had raised and
brought as far as Santiago. It is well known, that these men were
arrested on their course, and disbanded by Velasquez,--for some of them
came afterwards with Narvaez, and have so reported. The youth was thrown
into prison, too, where he fell sick,--for he had never entirely
recovered from the effects of his wound,--and it required all the
exertions of Doña Catalina, our leader's wife, backed by those of her
friends, to procure his release. His fidelity was afterwards shown in
his escape from Cuba, which was truly wonderful, both in boldness of
conception and success of accomplishment."

"His fidelity truly, and his folly, too," said Villafana; "for, I think,
no one but a confirmed madman could have projected and undertaken a
voyage across the gulf, in an open _fusta_,[5] (by'r lady! I have heard
'twas nothing better than a piragua,) with a few beggarly Indian
fishermen for his crew. But this he did, mad or not; and if Cortes were
angry, he took but an ill way to punish, since he gave him a horse and
standard, and kept him, for a long time, near to his own person. His
favourite for a time, I grant you he may have been, having heard it so
related; but when I myself came to the land, there were others much
better beloved."

[Footnote 5: _Fusta_--a sort of galley, very small and open, with lateen
sails.]

"If I am not mistaken," said Don Francisco, "he was in favour at that
time; and I have heard it affirmed it was some news of thy bringing, or
some good counsel of thy speaking, which first opened the eyes of
Cortes."

"_I_, indeed!--_my_ news, and _my_ counsel!" cried Villafana, with a
grin. "I was more like, at that period, to get to the bastinado than the
ears of Don Hernan. I, indeed!--I loved not the young man, I confess;
and who did? He had even the fate of a fallen minion; all spoke of him
with dispraise,--all hated him, or seemed to hate him, save only the
Tlascalan chief, Xicotencal, who loved him out of opposition; and I
remember a saying of this very crabbed Corcobado, here, on the subject,
namely, that a hedgehog was the best fellow for a viper."

"Ay, by my faith," said Najara; "yet I meant not Xicotencal for the
animal, but a worthy Christian cavalier; who was, at that time, rolling
the snake out of his dwelling." As Najara spoke, he fixed his eyes on
Guzman.

"I understand thee, toad," said the latter, indifferently. "It was
natural, the young man should be somewhat jealous. But this leads us
from the story. If it be needful to find a reason for Don Hernan's
change, I can myself give a thousand. In the first place, mere human
fickleness might be enough, for no man is master of his affections. It
might be enough too, to know, that the youth was no longer the gay and
good-humoured lad he had been described, but a sour, gloomy, and peevish
fool, exceedingly disagreeable and quarrelsome; and, perhaps, it might
be more than enough, to remind you, that, as was currently believed,
this change of temper was the consequence of certain villanous acts,
committed after our departure, and which were thought to furnish a
better and more probable reason for the voyage in the fusta than any
particular zeal he had in the cause of Cortes. If this be not enough,"
continued the cavalier, looking round him with the air of one who feels
that his arguments are conclusive, "then I have but to mention what you
seem to have forgotten,--to wit, that this petulant and meddlesome boy
did presume to make opposition to, and very arrogantly censure, certain
actions of the general; and, in particular, the seizure and imprisonment
of king Montezuma, and the burning alive of the Cholulan prisoners, as
well as the seventeen warriors, who had fought the battle with
Escalante, at Vera Cruz."--In the last of these instances, Don Francisco
made reference to the barbarous and most unjust punishment of
Quauhpopoco,--the military governor of a Mexican province near to Vera
Cruz,--and of his chief officers, who had presumed to resist with arms,
and with fatal success, the Spanish commandant of the coast, in an
unjustifiable attack.

"All this is true," said Villafana, "and it is all superfluous. What I
desired to establish was, that Lerma was no favourite, when sent on the
expedition, as would have been inferred from your words. I come now,
señor Camarga, to speak of that occurrence in relation to this boy, Juan
Lerma, (I call him a boy, for, at that time, he was not thought to
exceed nineteen years of age,) which, as Bernal Diaz says, touches the
honour of Don Hernan, and which, others think, bears as heavily upon
that of Don Francisco. The señores must answer for themselves: I only
give what is one version of the story."

"And, I warrant thee, it is the worst," said Najara. "Thou hast very
much the appetite of a gallinaza, who chooses her meat according to the
roughness of the savour."

"Among the daughters of the captive Montezuma," said Villafana, nodding
to the hunchback, in testimony of approbation, "was one, the youngest of
all, and, in truth, the prettiest, as I have heard, for I never beheld
her, who was called Cillahula,--"

"_Zelahualla_," said Bernal Diaz. "It is a word that signifies--"

"It signifies nothing, so long as you give it not the proper accent,"
said Guzman, with infinite composure. "Her true name was Citlaltihuatl;
or, at least, it was by that the Mexicans designated her; for they of
the royal family have, ordinarily, a popular title, in addition to that
used at court. The name may be interpreted the Maiden of the Star, or
the Celestial Lady; for so much is expressed by the two words of which
it is compounded."

"I maintain," said Bernal Diaz, stoutly, "that the word Zelahualla is
more agreeable of pronunciation, as well as much more universal in the
army."

"I grant you that," said Guzman. "Nor is the corruption so great as that
of many names you have recorded in your journal: but I leave these
things to be examined by your admirers hereafter. We will call the
princess, then, Zelahualla; that being the better and more common
title.--And now, Villafana, man, get thee on, in God's name; and start
not, señor Camarga, at the damnable inventions of slander, which will
now be told you."

"Pho!" said the Alguazil, "I will not abuse thee half so much as the
General. Know, señor Camarga, that there arose, between the young fool
Lerma and the excellent cavalier Don Francisco de Guzman, a quarrel,
very hot and deadly, concerning this same silly daughter of Montezuma;
with whom Don Francisco chose to be somewhat rougher and more
tyrannical, in displaying his affection, than was proper towards a
king's daughter and a captive."

"Dost thou speak this upon thine own personal averment?" demanded Don
Francisco, with a countenance unchanged, but with a voice
preternaturally subdued.

"No, faith," said Villafana, hastily, and with an air that looked like
alarm; "I repeat the innuendoes of others, which may be slanders or
not,--I know not. But it is certain, the young man so charged thee to
Cortes; affirming that, but for his interference, the villany
meditated--But, pho! thou growest angry! So much, certainly, he brought
against thee?"

"He did," replied Guzman, smiling as if in derision; "and I know not how
any could have been induced to believe him, except that man,--each
man,--being naturally a rogue himself, doth rather delight to entertain
those aspersions which bring down his neighbour to his own level, than
the commendations which acquaint him with a superior. He did!--He was a
fool! I can explain this thing to your satisfaction."

"Basta! it does not need," replied Villafana. "The rear-guard is
passing,--there is a stir on the temple-top, and presently we shall hear
the trumpet, which, like a curfew-bell, will command us to put out the
fires of our fancy and the lights of our wit, on pain of having them,
somewhat of a sudden, whipped out with switches. I must tell mine own
story; the señor Camarga looks a little impatient. The end of this
quarrel," continued the Alguazil, "was a duel; in which neither of the
rivals in love and the general's favour, came to much hurt; since they
were speedily seized upon and introduced to the Calabozo, for fighting
against the express orders of the general. Then, being released, they
were separated,--our excellent friend Don Francisco being sent on some
duty to Tlascala, and the boy Juan to--heaven."

"Saints!" exclaimed Camarga; "he was not executed?"

"Not on the block or the gallows, to be sure," said Villafana; "but in a
manner quite as effectual. He was sent on some fool's errand of
discovery, or exploration, to the South Sea, which, it was told us,
washed the distant borders of this mighty empire;--his companions, two
unlucky dogs of La Mancha, and one Leonese of Medina-del-Campo,--"

"Ay," said Bernal Diaz, with a groan,--"Gaspar Olea; he was my beloved
friend and townsman, and--" But Villafana was in no humour to be
interrupted:

"All three, like himself, out of favour," he continued. "Besides these,
the young man had with him a band of knavish infidels, from the western
province Matlatzinco; and his guide and counsellor was an old chief of
the Ottomies--a half-savage, (they called him _Ocelotl_ or _Ocelotzin_,
that is, the Tiger,) who had been domesticated among Montezuma's other
wild beasts. Now, señor, you may make your own conclusions, or you may
take those of men who are true friends of Cortes, and yet will speak
their mind. It was said, at the time, that the young man was sent to his
death; for the western tribes are fierce and barbarous; it was an easy
way to get rid of him--and so it has been proved. This happened fourteen
months ago: neither the young man, nor any of his companions, were ever
heard of more. The thing was understood, and it was called a cruel and
unchristian act."

"Thou doest a foul wrong to Cortes, to say so," exclaimed Don Francisco,
"imputing to him such sinister and perfidious motives. Such expeditions
were at that time common; for we were then at peace, and each explorer
was furnished by Montezuma with some royal officer by way of
safe-conduct. Did not Don Hernan send his cousin, the young Pizarro, to
explore the gold-lands of Guaztepec, at that very time? Were not others
sent to search for mines, in the southern and northern provinces? I
affirm, that this expedition of Lerma, fatal though it has proved, was
not thought more, or _much_ more dangerous than Pizarro's:--thou
knowest, Pizarro lost three of his men.--Moreover, thou doest the
general an equal wrong, in the matter of the three Spaniards, that went
with Lerma. Olea, at least,--Gaspar Olea, the Barba-Roxa--was
notoriously a favourite and trusted soldier, and was sent with the
youth, as being the fittest man who could be spared, to aid his
inexperience."

"The history is finished," said Villafana, rising; "the trumpet
flourishes; and, like hounds at the horn of the hunter, we must e'en get
us to the general, and add our howls to the yells of these curs of
Tlascala. The history is finished; and I have only to add, by way of
annotation, that the hatred you bore the youth, (I have heard some say,
he had the better in the duel!) will supply you good reasons for
defending his punishment."

"I say to you again," cried Guzman, "I have forgiven the youth, and I
hate him not."

"Oh! the brown horse, Bobadil, that was sent to him from Santo Domingo,
a month since, and given to your own excellent favour, as to his proper
heir, is a good peace-maker!"

"Thou art a fool," said Don Francisco; "I lament his death as much as
another.----"

"Have masses then said for his soul, for, by heaven and St. John, his
spirit is among us!"

These words, pronounced by the hunchback, Najara, suddenly, and with a
voice of extreme alarm, caused the cavalier, who, with Villafana and
Camarga, had already begun to walk towards the city, to turn round; when
he instantly beheld, and with similar agitation, the apparition which
had drawn forth the exclamation of the deformed.




CHAPTER III.


As the Castilians followed the eyes of Najara, they beheld, approaching
them from behind, three men, in whom, but for the direction given to
their thoughts by the exclamation, they would have seen nothing but the
persons of Indians, belonging to some tribe more wild and savage than
any which inhabited the valley. Their garments were coarse and singular;
their gait--at least, the gait of two of them,--not unlike to that of
barbarians; and the look of wonder with which they surveyed the long
train of the rear-guard, in which the high penachos, or plumes, and the
copper-headed spears of Tlascalan chiefs, shone among the iron casques
of Spanish cavaliers, was similar to the childish admiration of natives,
unused to such a spectacle. Their dark countenances and long hair, their
vestments and arms, were all of an Aztec character; yet a second and
more scrutinizing glance made it apparent, that one, at least, if not
two of them, was of another and nobler race.

The foremost, or leader, of the little band, was undoubtedly a savage;
as was seen by the depressed forehead, the high cheek-bones, the eye of
a peculiar form, and the skin of even uncommon swarthiness, which
distinguished him from his companions. His stature was short, almost
dwarfish; his toes were turned inwards; and as he moved along with a
shuffling gait, with advanced chest, and head still more protruded, his
long locks, grizzled as with extreme age, fell from either side of his
face, like patches of gray moss from the bough of a tree, and almost
swept the ground. A coarse cloth was wrapped round his loins; another of
a square shape,--its opposite corners tied round his neck,--hung like a
mantle, or rather a shawl, from his shoulders, over which were also
strapped a bow and quiver of arrows; and a thick mat of cane-work was
secured by thongs to his left arm, in the manner of a buckler, and swung
at his side, or was laid upon his breast, as suited his mood or
convenience. In other respects, he was naked,--though not without the
native battle-axe of obsidian. This weapon consisted of a rod, or
bludgeon, of heavy wood, (it was sometimes of copper,) at the extremity
of which, and on either side, were fastened six or seven broad blades,
or flakes, of volcanic glass, standing a little apart from each other.
Its native name, _maquahuitl_, was speedily corrupted by the Spaniards
into _macana_,--a name that is applied, in Castile, to a sabre of lath;
and which, being more practicable to civilized organs of speech than the
original title, is worthy of being preserved. The appearance of this
aged warrior presented none of the infirmities of years. His stooping
carriage was rather the result of habit than feebleness; his step was
quick and firm, though ungainly; and his eye rolled with the piercing
vivacity of youth over the scene, which occupied so much of the
attention of his followers.

Of these, that one whom the Castilians at the cypress-tree hesitated,
for a moment, whether to esteem an Indian or a Christian man, was of a
figure more remarkable for sturdiness than elegance. The roll of cloth
round his body extended from his waist, where it was secured by a
leathern girdle, to his knees. The mantle about his shoulders was more
capacious than his fellow's, but it left his brawny chest in part
exposed, and thereby revealed a skin fairer than belonged to the natives
of Anahuac. His hair, though very long, was of a reddish-brown colour,
and waving rather than straight; and a rough beard of a ruddy hue,
though so short that its growth seemed to have been permitted for not
more than the space of a week, was another phenomenon not to be looked
for in a barbarian. But the indications of civilized origin offered by
these characteristics, were set at naught by the step and bearing of the
stranger, which were to the full as wild and peculiar as those of his
more ancient companion; like whom, he carried a buckler and macana,
though without the bow and quiver. His eye rolled with a like wildness;
but his features were European; and instead of being entirely barefoot,
like the senior, his feet were defended by stout sandals of untanned
skin.

The third, and by far the most remarkable of all, was he who had first
caught the eye of Najara, and upon whom was now concentrated the gaze of
the whole party. A figure of the most majestic height, and noble
proportions, though, at the present moment, greatly wasted, was rather
set off to advantage than concealed by a costume as spare and primitive
as that of the red-bearded man. His skin was much tawnier than his
companion's; indeed, it was of the darkest hue known among the southern
provinces of Spain and Portugal, where the blood of Europe has mingled
harmoniously with the life-tides of Africa. His lofty stature was more
obvious, perhaps, since he adopted not the bearing or gait of the
others, but moved along erect, with a graceful demeanour, and a step of
natural ease and dignity. He had but one characteristic of a Mexican;
and that was the long hair, straight, and of an intense blackness, that
fell from his temples to his breast, with much of a wild and savage
profusion, concealing, in part, a cheek of the finest contour, though
somewhat hollowed by hardship, and, perhaps, suffering. The puffs of
wind, blowing aside this sable curtain, disclosed an elevated forehead,
crowning a visage in which every feature was of the mould of Castile,
and after the happiest model of that order of beauty, each being
sculptured with a touch that preserved delicacy, even while giving
boldness. His age would have been a question wherewith to puzzle a
physiognomist: there was much in the smoothness of his brow, and the
unaltered freshness of a mouth, over which was sprouting a mustache,
short and bushy, as if as lately submitted to the tonsure as the beard
of his companion, that spoke of youth just verging into maturity; while,
on the other hand, the complete developement of his frame, and the
seriousness of his countenance, would have conveyed the impression of an
age many years farther advanced. This seriousness of expression was,
indeed, more than mere gravity; it indicated a melancholy, or even
sadness, which, though of a gentle cast, was become a settled and
permanent characteristic.

As he approached, his eyes were, like his companions', fixed with
curiosity upon the long and dense body of Tlascalans, from whom they
were only withdrawn, when the exclamation of Najara attracted them
suddenly to the group at the cypress. The confusion of these personages
was so manifest, and they handled their arms with an air so indicative
of hostility, that the old warrior and the red-bearded man came to an
instant halt, and looked, as if for instructions, to their taller and
more noble-visaged companion. He instantly stepped before them, and
waving his hand to Najara, who was hastily fitting a bolt to his
crossbow, and to the historian, who presented his partisan with greater
alacrity of decision than would have been anticipated from his sluggish
appearance, cried aloud,

"Hold, friends! We are not enemies, but Christians and Castilians."

"Art thou Juan Lerma? and art thou truly alive? or do I look upon thy
phantom?" cried the hunchback, with an agitated voice.

"Out, fool! we are good living men," exclaimed the red-bearded man,
angrily; "and with flesh enough upon our bones, to cudgel thee into
better manners, I trow. Is this the way you receive old friends,
returning from bondage among infidels? What, Bernal Diaz, thou ass! dost
thou not know Gaspar Olea, thine old townsman of Medina-del-Campo, thy
brother-in-arms and sworn friend? nor yet the señor Don Juan Lerma, my
captain and friend in trouble? nor Ocelotzin, the old Ottomi rascal, our
guide here?"

"Ay, oho! old rascal, old friend; all friends, all rascals," cried the
Indian, looking affectionately towards the Castilians, who still stood
in doubt, and using the few Spanish words with which he was familiar;
"good friends, good rascals,--Castellanos, Cristianos;--friends,
rascals."

While the rest were hesitating, the cavalier Don Francisco de Guzman
suddenly stepped out from among them, and, advancing towards the young
man Lerma, with a smiling countenance and extended hand, said,

"Though I am not thought to be the most loving of thy friends, I will be
the first to bid thee welcome, señor Lerma, in token that old feuds do
not mar the satisfaction with which I behold a Christian man rescued so
happily, and as it appears to me, so marvellously, from the grave."

The emotions and changes of countenance with which the young man heard
these words, were various and strongly marked. At the first tones of
Guzman, he started back, as if a serpent had suddenly crossed his path,
and grew pale, while his eyes flashed a ferocious and deadly fire. At
the next, the blood rushed over his visage, and throbbed with a visible
violence in the vessels of his temples; while he half raised the macana,
which he carried, in lieu of a better weapon, as if to cleave the
speaker to the earth. The next instant, the angry suffusion departed,
his brows relaxed their severity, the deep melancholy gathered again in
his eyes, and he surveyed the cavalier with a patient and grave
placidity, until the latter had finished his salutation. Then, bending
his head, and folding his hands upon his breast, he replied, mildly, and
without a shadow of anger,

"I have, as thou sayest, returned from the grave, in the sight of which
I strove, as a Christian should, to make my peace with man as well as
with heaven. I have done so; I am at peace with all; I am at peace with
_thee_--But I cannot give thee my hand."

The cavalier Don Francisco received this rejection of his good-will with
no sign of dissatisfaction, that was distinguishable by others, beyond a
smile or sneer; but inclining his head towards Lerma, he muttered in his
ear--

"The strife is unequal; but I accept thy defiance. Thou art but a
broken-legged wolf, and wilt fight a fatted tiger--I am content."

So saying, or rather whispering, for his words were only caught by the
ears of Juan, the cavalier turned upon his heel, and without
condescending to exhibit his mortification in the vain air of pride and
scorn, assumed by ordinary men on such occasions, he began to walk
towards the city. He was presently followed by the señor Camarga; who,
having fastened upon Juan, for a few moments, a look of intense
curiosity, flung, when he had satisfied himself, his cloak over the
lower part of his visage, and thus departed.

"You give me but a cold welcome, good friends," said Juan, looking after
the retreating man with a sigh. "Will no one else in this company offer
his hand to one who burns with joy at the sight of Christian faces?"

"When thou art better acquainted with the bounty of the compliment,
doubtless, but no sooner," said the hunchback, who had surveyed the
youth with an interest which was belied by his present scorn. "A good
day to you, señor Juan Lerma, and God keep you well. There is a good
path over the mountains, northward, by the way of Otumba. If you like
not the company of heathens, there are fair maids enow in Cuba."

With these hints, which the young man listened to with a disturbed
aspect, and which the hunchback accompanied with sour and contemptuous
looks, he turned away, and began to hobble after his companions.

"Now God be our stay!" exclaimed Juan, with some emotion, "there is not
a man who has a tear for our sorrows, or a smile for our joy. It were
better we had perished, Gaspar!"

"_I_ am not ashamed to give thee my hand," said Bernal Diaz, shaking off
his amazement, and advancing, "though I know not how far thou art
deserving of such countenance. But I must first claim to embrace my old
friend and brother, Gaspar; whom, by my faith, I can scarce believe that
I see living before me! How didst thou thus learn to turn thy toes in,
Gaspar?"

"Away, thou dog-eared, ill-blooded block!" cried the red-bearded Gaspar,
who had watched the turn of proceedings with indignation, and now poured
forth his accumulated wrath upon the worthy historian. "Ashamed!--_thou_
ashamed!--_thy_ countenance!--deserving of _thy_ countenance, thou
ill-mannered, bog-brained churl and ass! Thou wilt give the young señor
thy hand! If thou dost but lift it, I will smite it off with my
battle-axe. Curmudgeon! _I_ thy friend and brother?--I discard thee and
forswear thee; I do, marry--"

"Peace, Gaspar," said Lerma, mildly; "quarrel not with thy friend on my
account; thou hast no offence on thine own. It is plain, there is but
cold cheer in store for me: make none for thyself."

"Oh, señor!" said Gaspar, sharply, for his anger was waxing hot and
unrespective, "I am no servant, no grinning lackey, to be told, 'do me
this,' and 'do me that,' by your excellent favour; no, by your leave,
no;--I am your soldier, not your foot-man. I will quarrel when I like,
and I will not be chidden. I am your soldier, señor, your soldier--"

"My friend, I think," said the young man; "though thou dost now afflict
me more than those who seem my enemies."

"Afflict!--enemies!--_I_ afflict!" cried Gaspar, fiercely; "I quarrel
with your enemies!--ay, _à outrance_, as the Frenchmen, say. I have
fought them in Italy. Fuego! enemies!--call this knave by the name, and
if I do not smite him to the chine, townsman though he be--"

"Peace, Gaspar, if thou art my friend, as, I trust this good Bernal
is,--"

"Go to," said Bernal Diaz, in high dudgeon, addressing himself to
Gaspar, "thou art turned heathen, or thou wouldst not so abuse me. I
care for you not; I have nothing to do with you, nor with any of your
companions. By and by you will repent. God be with you, and make you
wiser."

With these words, the historian followed the example of the others, and
was straightway stalking, with impetuous strides, towards Tezcuco.

"Now art you not ashamed, Gaspar, to have given way to this boy's wrath?
Wilt thou be womanish, too?"

"Ay," said Gaspar, shaking his head with the fury of a mastiff, rending
some meaner animal, and thus dashing away certain tears of rage or
mortification, that were starting in his eyes: "it doth make a woman of
me, to think we have escaped from dangers such as were never dreamed of
by these false traitors,--from infidel prisons and heathen maws, and
come, at last, among Christian men, whom I could have hugged, every ill
loon of them all; and not one to stretch forth his hand, and say God
bless me! You were right, señor; it were better to have remained slaves
with the King of the Humming-bird Valley, than to have left him for such
hangdog welcome."

"Thou wouldst have had nothing to complain of, hadst thou bridled thy
impatient temper. These men meant not to provoke _thee_."

"Bad friends, bad rascals!" said the Ottomi, who, during these several
passages, had been staring from one Christian to another in unconcealed
amazement: "bad friends! no good rascals!" he muttered in Spanish; then
instantly changing to Mexican, which though not his native tongue, was
more familiar to him, and was besides well understood by Juan, he
continued,

"Itzquauhtzin, the Great Eagle," (for thus he chose to designate the
youth,) "has settled upon the hill of kites. Where are his wings?
Malintzin is angry; he sends his young men to frown. Here is another: he
laughs with his eyes.--Ocelotzin is an old tiger,--Techeechee is a dog
without voice; but the _itzli_[6] is sharp in his hand. Shall he
strike?"

[Footnote 6: _Itzli_, the obsidian or volcanic glass.]

The wild eyes of the barbarian (for the Ottomies, or mountain Indians,
were the true savages of Anahuac,) were bent with the subtle and
malignant keenness of the tiger whose name he bore, upon the Alguazil,
Villafana, who, standing a little aside, and for a time unseen, had
watched the salutations, and, finally, the departure of his companions,
without himself saying a word. He now stepped forward, disregarding the
evil looks of the Indian, as well as those of Gaspar, whose feelings of
mortification were thirsting for some legitimate object whereon to
expend their fury: and stretching forth his hand in the most friendly
manner, said to Juan,

"How now, señor? drive this old cut-throat dog away.--I claim to be an
old acquaintance, and, at this moment, not a cold one. The foxes being
gone, the goose may stretch her neck.--Here am I, one man at least,
heartily glad to find you coming alive from the trap, and not afraid to
say so.--Does your favour forget me? Methinks you have the gift of
rejecting the hands that are offered, howsoever you may covet those that
are withheld."

"You do me wrong--I remember you well," said Juan, taking the hand, from
which he had first recoiled with a visible reluctance: "I thank you for
your kindness. Yes, I remember you," he repeated, with extreme sadness:
"Would I did _not_."

"Come, señor Gaspar," continued the Alguazil, turning to Olea. "You and
I were never such friends as true men should be; but, notwithstanding, I
give you my true welcome and most Christian congratulations."

"I ever thought you a knave," said Gaspar, clutching Villafana's hand,
with a sort of sulky thankfulness, "being but an eternal grumbler and
reviler at the general. But I see you are more of a Christian and man
than any other villain of them all. Fire and blood! why do they treat us
thus?"

"Oh, you shall soon know. But how now, señor Lerma, what is your will?
Will you walk with me to the city? We have royal commanders now: 'tis a
matter for the stocks, and, sometimes, the strappado, to loiter beyond
the lines, after the trumpet's call. Will you walk to Tezcuco? or do you
choose rather to betake you to the hills, as Najara advised you? Cortes
is another man now, señor, and somewhat dangerous, as you may have
inferred from the bearing of his favourites. If you would be wise, go
not near him. It is not too late."

"Señor Villafana," said Juan, "what I have seen and heard has filled me
with trouble; for, like Gaspar, I looked for such reception as might be
expected by men returning from among heathen oppressors, to Christian
associates and old friends. I know not well what has happened during the
fourteen months of my absence from the army, save what was darkly spoken
to me by a certain king, in whose hands I have remained, with my
companions, many months in captivity. He gave me to believe that my
countrymen had all fallen in a war with Montezuma, whom I left in peace,
and in strong, though undeserved, bonds. I perceive that I have been
cajoled: I rejoice that you are living men; but I know not why I should
fear to join myself again among you. I claim to be conducted to your
general."

"It shall be as you choose; but, señor, you are no longer in favour. As
for Gaspar and the Indian, it will be well enough with them: a good
soldier like Gaspar is worth something more than hanging; and such a
knave as this old savage can be put to good use. Señor, shall I speak a
word with you? Bid the two advance: I have somewhat to say to you in
private."

The young man regarded the Alguazil with an anxious countenance; and
then, desiring his companions to lead the way towards Tezcuco, followed,
at a little distance, with Villafana.




CHAPTER IV.


For a few moments, the two walked together in silence, and at a slow
pace, until the others were beyond earshot; when Villafana, suddenly
stopping and casting his eyes upon Juan, said, with but little ceremony,

"Señor Juan Lerma, I am your friend; and by St. Peter, who was once a
false one, you need one that is both plain and true. Does your memory
tax you with the commission of any act deserving death?"

To this abrupt demand, the young man answered, with an agitated voice,
but without a moment's hesitation,

"It does. Thou knowest full well, and perhaps all others know, now, that
I have shed the blood of my friend, the son of my oldest and truest
benefactor."

"Pho!" cried Villafana, hastily; "I meant not _that_. Your friend,
indeed? Come, you grieve too much for this. At the worst, it was the
mishap of a duel,--a fair duel; and, I am a witness, it was, in a
manner, forced upon you. You should not think of this: there are but few
who know of it, and none blame you. What I meant to ask, was this--are
you conscious of any crime worthy of death at the hands of Cortes?"

"I am not," said Lerma, firmly, though very sadly; "no, by mine honour,
no! I am conscious, and it is a thing long since known to all, that I
have entirely lost the favour with which he was used to befriend me.
Nay, this was apparent to me, before I was sent from his presence. I
hoped that in the long period of my exile, something might occur to show
him his anger was unjust; and, with this hope, I looked this day, to end
my wanderings joyfully. I am deceived; everything goes to prove, that
neither my long sufferings, (and they were both long and many,) nor my
supposed death have made my appeal of innocence. But I will satisfy him
of this: I will demand to know my crime. If it be indeed, as I think,
the death of Hilario--"

"Pho! be wise. He counts not this against thee,--he has been himself a
duellist. Say nothing of Hilario, neither; no, by the mass! nor be thou
so mad as to question him of his anger. Thou art very sure, then--I must
be free with thee, even to the dulness of repetition:--thou art very
sure, thou hast done nothing to deserve death at his hands?"

"I call heaven to witness," said Juan, "that, save this unhappy
mischance in the matter of Hilario, which is itself deserving of death,
I am ignorant of aught that should bring me under his displeasure."

"Enough," said Villafana: "But I would thou shouldst never more speak of
Hilario. He is dead, heaven rest his soul! He was a knave too; peace,
then, to his bones!--I am satisfied, thou hast done naught to Cortes,
deserving death at his hand. I have but one more question to ask
you:--Has Cortes done nothing to deserve death at thine?"

"Good heavens! what do you mean?" cried Juan, starting as much at the
sinister tones as the surprising question of the Alguazil.

"Do you ask me? what, _you_?" said Villafana, "Come, I am your friend."

As the Alguazil pronounced these words, with an insinuating frankness
and earnestness, he threw into his countenance an expression that seemed
meant to invite the confidence of the young man, and encourage him to
expose the mystery of his breast, by laying bare the secrets of his own.
It was a transfiguration: the mean person was unchanged,--the
insignificant features did not alter their proportions,--but the smile
that had contorted them, was turned into a sneer of fiendish malignancy,
and the peculiar sweetness that characterized his eyes, was lost in a
sudden glare of passion, so demoniacal, that it seemed as if the flames
of hell were blazing in their sockets. It was the look of but an
instant: it made Juan recoil with terror: but before he could express a
word of this feeling, of curiosity, or of suspicion, it had vanished.
The Alguazil touched his arm, and said quickly, though without any
peculiar emphasis,

"Judge for yourself: Heaven forbid I should breed ill-will where there
is none, or plant thorns in my friend's flower-garden. Judge for
yourself, señor: if, being innocent of all crime, Cortes has yet doomed
you, basely and perfidiously, to death,--"

"To death!" exclaimed Juan, with a voice that reached the ears of his
late companions, and brought them to a sudden stand; "Heaven be my help!
and do I come back but to die?"

"You went forth but to die!" said Villafana; "and, you may judge, with
what justice. Come, señor,--the thing is said in a moment. The
expedition was designed for your death-warrant."

"Villain!" exclaimed Juan; "dare you impute this horrible treachery to
Cortes?"

"Not,--no, not, if it appear at all doubtful to your own excellent
penetration," replied the Alguazil, with a laugh. "I do but repeat you
the belief of some half the army--had it been but before the Noche
Triste, I might have said, _all_: but, in truth, we are now, more than
half of us, new men, who know but little of the matter."

"Does any one charge this upon the general?" said Juan, with a look of
horror.

"Ay,--if you call them not 'villains,'" replied the soldier.

"I will know the truth," said Juan. "I will find who has belied me."

"You will find that of any one but Don Hernan. Señor Don Juan, I pity
you. You have returned at an evil moment; your presence will chill old
friends, and sharpen ancient enemies."

"If he seek my life, it is his: but, by heaven, the man who has wronged
me,--"

"Get thy horse and arms first. Wilt thou be wise? Thou shalt have
friends to back thee. Listen: A month since, there came for thee, in a
ship from the islands, two very noble horses, and a suit of goodly
armour, sent, as was said, by some benevolent friend, whom thou mayst be
quicker at remembering than myself."

"Sent by heaven, I think," said Lerma, "for I know not what earthly
friend would so supply my necessities."

"Oh, then," said Villafana, "the rumour is, they were sent thee by the
lady Catalina, our general's wife."

"May heaven bless her!" exclaimed Juan; "for she is mine only friend:
and this bounty I have not deserved."

"In this matter," said Villafana, dryly, "she will prove rather thine
enemy; that is, if thou art resolute to demand the restoration of her
gifts."

"The restoration!"

"In good truth, they were distributed among thine heirs; the horse
Bobadil, thought by many to be the best in the army, falling to the
share of thy good friend Guzman."

"To Guzman?" cried Juan, angrily. "Could they find no better friend to
give him to? I will have him back again; yea, by St. Juan, he shall ride
no steed of mine!"

"Right!" exclaimed Villafana; "for if thou hast an enemy, he is the man.
Thou didst well, to refuse his hand. He offered it not in love, but in
treachery. Thou wilt ask Cortes for thy maligner? It needs not: remember
Don Francisco."

"I will do so," said Juan, with a sigh. "I thought, in my captivity,
when I despaired of ever more looking upon a Christian face, that I had
forgiven my enemies. I deceived myself,--I hate Don Francisco. I will
proclaim him before the whole army, if he refuse to do me reparation."

"I tell thee, thou shalt have friends," said the Alguazil, with an
insinuating voice, "to back thee in this matter, as well as in all
others wherein thou hast been wronged. But thou must be ruled. Speak not
to Cortes in complaint: he will do thee no justice. Send no defiance of
battle to Guzman, for this has been proclaimed a sin against God and the
king, to be punished with loss of arms, degradation, and whipping with
rods,--sometimes with the loss of the right hand. You stare! Oh, señor
Juan Lerma, you will find we have a master now,--a master by the king's
patent,--who makes his own laws, beats and dishonours, and gives us to
the gallows, when the fit moves him, without any necessity of cozening
us to death in expeditions to the gold mines, or the South Seas."

"Señor Villafana," said Juan, firmly, "I do not believe that, in this
thing, Cortes designed me any wrong; nor will I permit myself to think
of it any more. You seem to have something to say to me. Gaspar and the
Indian are beyond hearing. If you will advise me as a friend, in what
manner I shall conduct myself in this difficult conjuncture, I will
listen to you with gratitude; and with thanks more hearty still, if you
make me acquainted with a way to redeem my honour and faith in the eyes
of the general."

"I have but two things to counsel you: Make your report of adventures,
good and bad, to the general, without words of complaint or suspicion;
and, this done, demand of him, and care not how boldly, the restoration
of your horses and armour."

"If they be the gifts of his lady," said Juan, with hesitation,
"methinks, it will not become me to press this demand on him; but rather
to leave it to his own honour and generosity."

The Alguazil gave the youth a piercing look; but seeing in his visage no
embarrassment beyond that of a man who is debating a question of mere
delicacy, replied, coolly,--

"Ask him, then. It is not certainly known that these horses came from
Doña Catalina; and, perhaps, they do not. Yet it will be but courteous
in thee to say, thou hast been so informed, and that thou dost so
believe. Get thy horses, by all means: but again I say to thee, do
nothing to incense the general. If he provoke thee, show not thy
displeasure; at least, show it not now. I will give thee more reasons
for what I counsel, as we walk through the city."

By this time the speakers had reached the gates of the city, where
Gaspar and the Ottomi stood in waiting for them.




CHAPTER V.


The walls of Mexico were the foaming surges of her lake. The cities on
the shore, when much exposed by defencelessness of site, great wealth of
inhabitants, or other causes, to the attacks of enemies, were surrounded
by walls, commonly of earth, though sometimes, as in the case of
Tezcuco, of stone. These were, ordinarily, of no great height or
strength, but sufficient, when well manned, to repel the assaults of the
slingers and archers of America.

The external fortifications of Tezcuco were, as became the ancient rival
of Tenochtitlan, of a more imposing order. The walls were thick and
high, with embattled parapets, and deep ditches at the base. The gates
were protected in the manner common to the land, by the overlapping, so
to speak, of the opposite walls; that is, being made, as they approached
each other, to change from their straight, to a circular course, the one
traversing upon a greater radius than the other, they thus swept by and
_round_ each other, in parallel curves, leaving a long and narrow
passage between them, commanded not only by the walls themselves, but by
strong stone turrets, built on their extremities.

Besides these defences, there was erected within the walls, and directly
opposed to each entrance, a small pyramid, elevated fifteen or twenty
feet above the walls, and crowned with little sanctuaries,--thus serving
a religious as well as a military purpose. In the one sense, these
structures might be considered Chapels of Ease to the greater temples of
the quarters in which they stood; in the other, they were not unlike the
cavaliers, or commanding mounds, of European fortification, from the
tops and sides of which the besieger could be annoyed, whilst without
the walls, and arrested on his course, when within.

Thus, then, there were ready to his hands, fortifications, of which the
Spanish commander, now the Captain-General of New Spain, as the
unsubdued Mexico was already called, was not slow to reap the full
advantage. A strong guard of Castilian soldiers was posted before each
gate; a native watchman sat on each turret; and a line of Tlascalan
sentries, stepping proudly along in their places of trust, occupied the
lofty terrace of the walls.

The edifices disclosed to Juan, when he had, with his companions, passed
through the staring warders into the town, were similar to those of
Mexico,--of stone, and low, though often adorned with turrets. In all
cases, the roofs were terraced, and covered with shrubs and flowers; and
the passion of the citizens for such delightful embellishments, had
converted many a spacious square into gardens, wherein fluttered and
warbled birds of a thousand hues and voices.

Over these open spaces were seen, in different quarters, the tops of
high pyramids and towers, scattered about the town in vast and
picturesque profusion.

The roaring sound of life that pervades a great city, even when
unassisted by the thundering din of wheeled carriages, gave proof enough
of the dense multitudes that inhabited Tezcuco. The eye detected the
evidences of a population still more astonishing, in the myriads of
tawny bodies that crowded the streets, the gardens, the temple squares,
and the housetops, many of whom seemed to have no other habitation. In
fact, the introduction of the many thousands who composed the train, or,
as it was called, the Army of the Brigantines, added to the hosts of
other warriors previously collected by Cortes, and the presence of the
original inhabitants, gave to Tezcuco that appearance of an
over-crowded, suffocating vitality, which is presented by the modern
Babylons of France and Great Britain. The murmur of voices, the
pattering of feet, the rustling of garments, with the sounds of
instruments wielded by artisans, both native and Christian, made,
together, a din that seemed like the roar of a tempest to the ears of
one, who, like Lerma, had just escaped from the mute hills and the
silent forests of the desert. At a distance--beheld from the
cypress-tree,--the view of Tezcuco seemed to embrace a scene made up of
tranquillity and repose. The same thing is true of all other cities; and
the same thing may be said of human life, when we sit aloof and
contemplate the bright pageant, in which we take no part. If we advance
and mingle with it, the picture is turned to life, the peace to tumult,
and we lose all the charms of the prospect in the distractions of
participation.

As Juan, conducted by the Alguazil, made his way through the torrents of
bodies which poured through every street, and became more accustomed to
move among them, the excitement gradually subsided in his breast, the
colour faded from his cheeks; and, by the time he had reached the end of
his journey, there remained no expression on his visage beyond that of
its usual and characteristic sadness. This was deepened, perhaps, by the
scene around him; for it is the virtue of melancholy, where it exists as
a temperament, or has become a settled trait, to be increased by the
excitements of a city or crowd. Perhaps it was darkened also by the
reflection, as he raised his eyes to the vast palace in which Cortes had
established his head-quarters, that among all its crowds,--the military
guards at the door, and the lounging courtiers within,--there was not a
single friend waiting to rejoice over his return.

The house of Nezahualcojotl, who has been already mentioned as the most
famous and refined of the Tezcucan kings, possessed but little to
distinguish it from the edifices of nobles around, except its greatness
of extent. It was a pile or cluster of many houses built of vast blocks
of basalt, well cut and polished, surrounding divers courts and
gardens,--what might be termed the wings consisting of but a basement
story, which was relieved from monotony by the presence of towers and
battlements, and the sculptured effigies of animals and serpents on the
walls, and particularly around the narrow loops which served for
windows. The centre, or principal portion, had an additional story,
loftier towers, and more imposing sculptures. The windows were carved of
stone, so as to resemble the yawning mouths of beasts of prey; the
battlements were crouching tigers; and the pillars of the great door
were palm-trees, round the trunks of which twined two immense serpents,
whose necks met at the lintel, among the interlocking branches, and
embraced and supported a huge tablet, on which was engraven the Aztec
calendar, according to the singular and yet just system of the ancient
native astronomers.--Sixty years _after_ this period, the sages of
Europe discovered and adopted a mode of adjusting the civil to the
astronomical time, so as to avoid, for the future, the confusion--the
utter disjointing of seasons--which had been the consequence of the
Julian computation. At this very moment, the barbarians of America were
in possession of a system, which enabled them to anticipate, and rectify
by proper intercalations, the disorders not only of years, but of
cycles,--and how much _earlier_, the wisdom of civilization has not yet
divined.

On the whole, there was something not less impressive than peculiar in
the appearance of an edifice which had sheltered a long line of
Autochthonous monarchs; and as Juan passed from the square, in front of
the artillery that commanded it, under the folds of the mighty serpents
at the door, and into the sombre shadows of the interior, he was struck
with a feeling of awe, which was not immediately removed even by the
more stirring emotions of the instant.

The hall, or rather vestibule, in which he now found himself, was
distinguished, rather than animated, by the presence of many Spaniards
of high and low degree, some clustered together in groups, some stalking
to and fro in haughty solitude, while others bustled about with an air
of importance and authority; but all, as Lerma quickly observed,
preserving a decorous silence,--conversing in whispers, and moving with
a cautious tread, as if in the ante-room of a king, instead of the hall
of a soldier-of-fortune like themselves.

A few of them bent their eyes upon the strangers, and stepped forward to
survey their savage equipments. The keen glances which they cast towards
him, the hurried and somewhat sonorous exclamations with which they
pointed him out to one another, but more than all, the presence of
Najara, of Bernal Diaz, and of the stranger Camarga, among them,
convinced Juan that he was recognized. But with this conviction came
also the sickening consciousness that not one had a smile of
satisfaction to bestow upon him in the way of welcome. He remembered the
faces of many; and, once or twice, he raised his hand, and half stepped
forward, to meet some one or other who seemed disposed to salute him. He
was deceived; those who came nighest, were only the most curious. They
nodded their heads familiarly to Villafana; a few returned the advances
of Lerma with solemn and reverential bows; but none raised up their
heads to meet the exile's advances.

"The curse of ingratitude follow you all, cold knaves!" muttered Gaspar
between his teeth. The eyes of the Ottomi twinkled upon the groups, with
a mixture of wonder and malignant wrath. Juan smothered his sighs, and
strode onwards.

He stopped suddenly at a door, wreathed, like the outer, with snakes,
though carved of wood, over which hung curtains of some dark and heavy
texture, and behind which, as it seemed to him, from the murmuring of
voices, was the apartment in which the Captain-General gave audience to
his followers and the allied tribes of Mexico, who made up what may be
called, as it seemed to be considered, his court. Here Juan paused, and
turning to the Alguazil, said, calmly, and with a low voice,

"From what I have seen and now see, I perceive, it will not be fitting I
should approach the general--especially in these weeds, which can scarce
extenuate the coldness of my old companions,--without the ceremony of an
announcement and expressed permission."

"Fear not," whispered Villafana, with a grim smile: "thy friend
Francisco will have done thee this good turn. Remember--offend him not
now: but, still, lay claim to the horses."

As he spoke, the Alguazil, pushed aside the curtain, and, in a moment
more, the youth was in the presence of Cortes.




CHAPTER VI.


The apartment into which Juan now found himself introduced, was very
spacious; and, indeed, had the height of the ceiling corresponded in
proportion with the length and breadth, would have been esteemed vast.
Without being so low as to be decidedly mean, it was yet depressed
enough to show how little the principles of taste had extended among the
natives, to the art of architecture; or, what is equally probable, how
wisely provision was made against the earthquakes and other convulsions,
so naturally to be expected in a land of volcanoes.

The huge rafters of cedar, carved into strange and emblematic
arabesques, were supported, at intervals, by a double row of pillars of
the most grotesque shapes. On the walls were hung arras, on which were
painted rude scenes of battle and of sacrifice, with hieroglyphic
records of history, as well as choice maxims of virtue and policy,
selected from the compositions of that king, who had finished, and given
name to the habitation, long since founded by his ancestors. It was
lighted in a manner equally rare and magnificent. A considerable space
in the further or western wall, from which the tapestry was drawn aside,
was occupied by stone mullions of strange forms, between which were
fixed large translucent blocks of alabaster, such as we now behold in
the church windows of Puebla de los Angelos. Upon these were painted
many incomprehensible figures, which would have deformed the beauty of
the stone, but for the brilliancy and delicacy of their hues. As it was,
the strong glare of the evening sun, falling upon this transparent wall,
came through it, with the mellow lustre and harmonious tints of a
harvest-moon, shedding a soft but sufficient light over the whole
apartment, making what was harsh tender, and what was lovely almost
divine.[7]

[Footnote 7: Windows of this rich material were discovered in a Roman
villa at Pompeii. The effect of a lamp in an alabaster vase will be
familiar to the reader.]

On the left hand, were several narrow doors, opening upon a garden,
which was seen, sometimes, when the breeze stirred aside the curtains
that defended them; on the right, were others leading to certain
chambers, and carefully protected by a similar drapery.

The floor of this hall of audience was covered with mats stained with
various colours.

At the farther extremity of the apartment stood a group of Spanish
cavaliers, surrounding a platform of slight elevation, on which,
sumptuously dressed, and leaning upon a _camoncillo_, or chair of state,
stood Hernan Cortes. At his right hand, sitting and supported by two
gallant cavaliers, was his royal god-son, Ixtlilxochitl, now Don Hernan
Cortes, the king of Tezcuco;--a young man of mild aspect; at whose feet
sat his younger and more manly brother, Suchel, from whom was afterwards
derived one of the noble families of New Spain. On the left of the
general, were two Indians of a far nobler presence, and known by the
singular loftiness of their plumes, if not by the commanding sternness
of their visages, to be Tlascalans of high degree. They were, in fact,
the military chieftains Xicotencatl and Chichimecatl, men of renown not
only among their tribes, but the Spaniards. Behind each stood his page,
or esquire, bearing the great shield of ceremony, whereon were
emblazoned, in native heraldic devices, the various exploits of his
master.

Besides these distinguished barbarians, there were others of note among
the cavaliers, at the side of the platform.

All these several details of a spectacle both romantic and imposing,
were seen by Juan at a single glance; for, almost at the moment of his
entrance, a movement was made among those who stood on the left of the
platform, in the direction of the great Conquistador, as if they desired
to catch something that instant falling from his lips. As they left the
view thus open, Juan saw that Cortes, instead of speaking, was bending
his head and listening with eager interest to the señor Guzman, who had
ascended the platform, and was now whispering in his ear. At the same
moment, a prodigiously large dog, with shaggy coat, hanging lips, and
ferocious eyes, roused by the motion of the general, at whose feet he
had been sleeping, raised his head, and stared with the majestic gravity
of a lion, upon the speaker and his master.

There was something in the interested and agitated eagerness with which
the Captain-General drank in the words of Guzman, that went to the heart
of Lerma. He doubted not, that Don Francisco was, at that moment,
speaking of _him_,--of _his_ return to the society of Christians, and to
the arms of his benefactor,--for such had Cortes once been to him; and
he read in the varying play of Don Hernan's features, nothing but
refutation of the malign charges of Villafana, and full proof that the
general was not indifferent to the friend of former years.

As these thoughts entered his mind, he rushed forward, under their
impulse, with clasped hands, and with an exclamation that brought the
looks of all instantly upon him. The huge dog raised himself half up
from the platform, and uttered a savage growl. He advanced yet another
step, and the ferocious beast, with a roar that filled the whole
chamber, dashed furiously from the platform, as against an enemy not to
be doubted. The young man paused, but not at the opposition of the
animal: he had, that moment, caught the eye of Don Hernan, and his heart
failed as he beheld the frown of rage, and, as it seemed to him, hate,
with which he was regarded.

"Down, Befo!" cried Cortes, with a voice of thunder.

But Befo, who had leaped forward with such ferocious determination, had,
that instant, stopped before Juan, whom he now eyed with a look of
wonder and recognition. Then, suddenly fetching such a yelp of joy as
would have better become the playmate-cur of a child, than the grim
bloodhound of a soldier, he raised up his vast body, flung his paws upon
Juan's breast, and strove, evidently, to throw them round his body, in
the mode of human embrace, whining all the time with the most expressive
delight.

"Down, Befo! Thick-lips! thou cub of a false wolf!" repeated the
general, irefully, yet with an expression that would have suited better,
had he been commanding him to tear the youth to pieces; "Down, fool,
down! I will stick thee with my rapier."

As he spoke, he half drew his sword from the scabbard.

"Harm him not,--call him not away," cried Juan, with a thick voice; "for
by heaven and St. Mary, he is all, of a troop of Christian men, once my
friends, who have any joy to see an old companion return from bonds and
the grave!"

As the young man spoke, he flung his arms round the neck of the faithful
beast, and bending his head upon Befo's face, gave way to a passion of
tears.

"The shame of foul knaves and false companions be on you all!" cried the
flaming Gaspar, without a whit regarding the presence in which he spake.
His wrath was cut short, before it had been noticed by any but the
Ottomi, who stood gaping, at a distance, with looks of visible alarm,
first excited by the appearance of the dog.

Among most of the cavaliers now present, Juan had been once well known;
and however their affections might be chilled and their respect
destroyed, by untoward circumstances, there was something so painfully
reproachful in the spectacle of his tears, that a strong impression was
immediately produced among them. All seemed, at once, to remember, that
he had been once esteemed, notwithstanding his youth, of a bold heart
and manly bearing; and all seemed to remember also, that fourteen
months' suffering among unknown pagans, was worthy of some little
commiseration.

But there was one present of more fiery feelings and determination more
hasty than any of the Christians. The elder and taller of the Tlascalan
chiefs, distinguished as much by a haughty and darkly frowning visage as
by an Herculean frame, stepped down from the platform, and laid his hand
upon Juan's shoulder; in which position he stood, without speaking a
word, but expressing in his countenance the spirit of one who avowed
himself a patron and champion. The tall plume rustled like a waving
palm, as he raised up his head, and the look that he cast upon Cortes,
seemed to mingle defiance with disdain. But this hostile expression was
perhaps concealed by the approach of a cavalier of gallant appearance,
who stepped suddenly from the throng, and snatching up Juan's left hand
from the dog's neck, cried with hasty good-will,

"Santiago! (and the devil take all of us that have no better hearts than
a cur or a wild Indian!) I know no reason, certainly, why thou shouldst
be treated like a dog. God be with thee, Juan Lerma! I am glad thou art
alive; God bless thee: and so hold up thy head. If thou hast no better
raiment, I will give thee my fustian breeches and liver-coloured mantle,
as well as a good sword of iron, which I have to spare."

This quick-spoken and benevolent cavalier was no less a man than the
gallant Don Pedro de Alvarado, at this time called, almost universally,
in memory of his famous leap over the ditch of Tacuba, in the Night of
Sorrow, the _Capitan del Salto_. He gave place to another of still
greater renown, who would have been perhaps the first to extend his
hand, had he been as hasty of resolution as his more mercurial comrade.
This was the good cavalier Don Gonzalo de Sandoval, better esteemed for
his skill in arms than any peculiar elegance of conversation.

"Juan Lerma," said he, "I am not sorry thou art alive and well; and if
thou wilt make any use of the same, to put thee into more Christian
bravery, I will pray thee to take my gold chain, as well as six good
cotton shirts, which an Indian woman made me."

To these friendly salutations and bountiful offers, as well as the
advances of other cavaliers who now bustled around him, Juan replied
with a manner more expressive of indignation than gratitude. He was
ashamed of having exposed his weakness, and sensible that it was this
alone which had obtained him a charitable notice. He raised his head
proudly, as one who would not accept such compelled kindness, pushed
Befo to the floor, though still keeping a hand upon his neck,
acknowledged the presence of Xicotencal with a word, and turned towards
Cortes a countenance now quite composed, though not without a touch of
sorrowful resentment.

The emotion which had produced such an impression among the cavaliers,
was not without its effect even upon the Captain-General. His features
relaxed their angry severity, he stepped forwards; and when Juan lifted
up his eyes, he beheld a hand extended towards him, and heard the voice
of Cortes say, in tones of concession, though of embarrassment,

"God be with you--you do us wrong in this matter: as a Christian man
escaped from bondage, we are not unrejoiced to see you: as a soldier
returning from a delayed duty, we will declare our thoughts of you
anon."

There was nothing very gracious either in the words or tones of the
speaker; but they were unexpected. They swept away the proud and angry
resolutions of Juan, and restored to him the warm feelings of affection
and gratitude, with which he had ever been accustomed to regard the
general. He seized the proffered hand, pressed it to his lips, and
seemed about to throw himself at Don Hernan's feet, when suddenly a
noise was heard at a curtained door hard by, accompanied by what seemed
the smothered shriek of a woman. At this sound the young man started up,
with a look of fear, and yielded up the hand which was abruptly snatched
from his own. He gazed round him and plainly beheld the thick cloth
before the nearest passage, shaking, as if disturbed by the recent
passage of some one,--but nothing else. He perceived no new countenance
added to those of the many in audience, which were directed upon his
own, with an universal stare of wonder. His attention was recalled by
the voice of Cortes. He turned; the general was seated; a stern and iron
gravity had taken the place of relenting feeling on his visage; and it
was evident to the unfortunate Juan, that the hour of reconciliation had
passed away, and for ever. The cavaliers retreated,--the Tlascalan and
the dog were all that remained by his side; and, as if to make his
disgrace both undeniable and intolerable, the señor Guzman maintained,
throughout the whole scene, his post at the general's side, confronted
face to face with his fallen rival.

"We are ready to hear thee, Juan Lerma," said the Captain-General, with
a voice at once cold and commanding: "you went hence, to explore the
lands of the west, and the sea that rolls among them. We argue much
success, and great discoveries, from the time devoted to these purposes,
and from the discretion you evinced in pursuing them for a whole year
and more, rather than by returning with your forces, to share in the
dangerous fights of Mexico. What have you to say? You had some good
followers, both Christian and unconverted.--Stand thou aloof, Gaspar
Olea! I will presently speak with thee.--Hast thou brought none back
with thee but the Barba-Roxa,--Gaspar of the Red Beard?"

There was not a word in this address which did not sting the young man
to the heart; and the insulting insinuation which a portion of it
conveyed, was uttered in a tone of the most cutting sarcasm. He
trembled, reddened, clenched his hand in the shaggy coat of Befo,--who
still, though beckoned by Cortes, refused to leave the exile,--until the
animal whined with pain. Then, smothering his emotions, like one who
perceives that he is wronged, and, knowing that complaint will be
unavailing, is resolute to suffer with fortitude, he elevated his lofty
figure with tranquil dignity, looked upon Cortes with an aspect no
longer reproachful, and replied,

"Besides Gaspar, who is worthy of your excellency's confidence and
thanks, no one returns with me save the Ottomi, Ocelotzin,--the Tiger; a
man to whom should be accorded the praise of having saved the life of
Gaspar, which is valuable to your excellency, and my own,--which is
worthless."

As he spoke, he pointed to the ancient barbarian, who stepped forward
with the same affectionate smiles and grimaces which he had bestowed
upon the party at the cypress-tree, and with many uncouth gestures of
reverence, saying, in imperfect Castilian, after he had touched the
floor with his hand, and then kissed it,

"Ottomi I,--good friend, good rascal; but Ocelotzin no more.
I am Techeechee,[8] the Silent Dog,--the little dog without
voice,--Techeechee!"

[Footnote 8: _Techichi_--a native animal of the dog kind, which does not
bark. It was domesticated.]

As he spoke, he cast his eyes, with less of love than admiring fear,
upon the gigantic beast, whose voice was to him, as well as to his
countrymen, more terrible than the yell of the mountain tiger.

"I remember thee, good fellow," said the Captain-General.

Then, without bestowing any further present notice on him, he turned
again to Juan, speaking with the same cold and magisterial tones:

"And where, then, are the two Christians of La Mancha, and the seventy
warriors of Matlatzinco, who composed your party? the arms you carried?
and the four good horses entrusted to your charge?"

"Your excellency shall hear," said Juan, calmly: "The two Manchegos were
ill inclined to the expedition; and therein were my followers but
unfortunately selected."

"They were mutineers!" cried Gaspar, whose anger was not mollified by
being made a witness to the ill fate of his young captain: "they were
mutineers; and so the devil has them."

"Hah!" exclaimed Cortes, starting up, with what seemed angry joy: "didst
thou dare arrogate the privileges of a judge, and condemn a Christian
man to death?"

"I am guiltless of such presumption," said Juan. "To their
dissatisfaction, to their disobedience,--nay, to their frequent threats,
and open disregard of the commands your excellency had yourself imposed
upon us, not to provoke the Indians among whom we might be
journeying,--I adjudged no punishment but the assurance that your
excellency should certainly be made acquainted with their acts. With
much persuasion, I prevailed upon them to follow me, until we had
reached the sea, which it was your excellency's command I should first
examine."

"Ay!" said Cortes, again starting up, but with an air of exultation;
"thou hast found it then? and a port that may give shelter to ships of
burthen?"

"Not one port only, but many," said Juan, with a faltering voice,
mistaking the satisfaction of the leader for approbation. "In a space of
seventy leagues, (for so much of the coast was I able to survey,) there
are many harbours, exceedingly spacious, deep and secure; and some of
such excellence, that I question whether the world contains any others
to equal them. Near to some, there is much good ship timber, as well as
lands amazingly fertile and beautiful."

"This is well," said the Captain-General, coldly. "Thou hast well
devoted a year of time to the examination of seventy leagues of coast."

"Had that been the only subject of your excellency's orders," said
Lerma, "you should have had no cause for dissatisfaction. This
accomplished, it became me, as your excellency had commanded, to explore
those gold lands to the northwest, and discover that kingdom of
Huitzitzila, as it was erroneously called by Montezuma, which bordered
upon his dominions, and had ever maintained its independence by force of
arms."

At these words, many of the cavaliers looked surprised, as if made
acquainted with this article of Juan's instructions for the first time,
and some exchanged meaning glances, which were not lost on Cortes. He
frowned, and hastily exclaimed,

"You are wrong; I _commanded_ you not. That kingdom being at enmity with
Mexico, it was not fit your lives should be endangered, by rashly
adventuring within its confines. You were advised, if you should find we
had been deceived in the character of those infidels of Huitzitzila, to
make yourself acquainted with them and their country: but this was left
to your discretion."

"It is true," said Juan mildly, "your excellency did so advise me; and
the fault which I committed was in thinking that I should best please
you, by penetrating to that land, without much thought of difficulty or
danger. In this, as in other things, as Gaspar will be my witness, I was
opposed by those unhappy Manchegos; who deserted from me in the night,
carrying with them, (to replace a horse which they had lost in a river,)
the charger which your excellency had given to me for my own riding,--as
well as their arquebuses,--which was still more unfortunate; for
Gaspar's piece had been broken by a fall, and we were thus left without
firearms, with but one horse, and no better weapon to procure us food,
than mine own crossbow, and the arrows of the Matlatzincos."

"Now, by my conscience," said Cortes, "I know not which the more to
admire,--the good vigilance that allowed these knaves to escape, or the
rash-brained folly which led you to continue the expedition without
them!"

The sarcasm produced no change in Juan's visage. He seemed to have made
up his mind not only to endure injustice, but to expect it.

"Their desertion was neither unforeseen nor unopposed," he answered. "It
is my grief to say, that they forgot the obligations both of discipline
and Christianity, and desperately fired upon Gaspar and myself; whereby
they killed our remaining horse, and wounded myself in the side."

"And where then were thy knavish Indians, that thou didst not slay the
false traitors on the spot?" cried Cortes, with an indignation, which,
this time, had the right direction.

The answer to this added but another item of mischance to the young
man's story. The arts of the Manchegos had spread disaffection among his
Indian followers, many of whom had deserted with them. Following after
the mutineers, he was, shortly after, abandoned by the rest; and then
his little party, consisting only of Gaspar and the Ottomi, was
attacked, by hostile tribes, driven back upon the path, and finally
forced to take refuge in the dominions of that native monarch, whose
reputed grandeur and wealth had so long since excited the curiosity of
Don Hernan.

The relation of Lerma, though of such thrilling interest that it
absorbed the attention of all present, and even so wrought upon the mind
of Cortes, that he gradually discharged the severity of his countenance,
and even at last ceased altogether to interrupt it with sarcasm or
commentary of any kind, has too little, or at least too indirect a
connexion with the present history, to require it to be given in the
exile's words, or at any length. With the main facts,--his long
captivity and final escape,--the reader is already acquainted; and it is
not perhaps necessary to add more than that the kingdom of which so much
has been said, was that of Mechoacan, and that its capital Tzintzontzan,
(the Place of Hummingbirds,) corrupted by the Mexicans into Huitzitzila,
lies yet, though dwindled into the meanest of villages, upon the
beautiful lake Pascuaro. Juan knew nothing of the fate of the Manchegos.
By a comparison of dates, it was discovered that the sudden outbreaking
of hostilities, which had driven him into this remote land, had followed
almost immediately upon the tumults In Mexico, which had resulted in the
death of Montezuma and the expulsion of the Spaniards; and it was not
doubted, that the mutineers had met a miserable and speedy death. With
the account of lands of unexampled beauty and fertility, of rivers of
gold and hills of silver, we have nothing to do, except to remark that
it determined the fate of Mechoacan as certainly as if the order had
been uttered for its immediate subjugation. The whole account might have
been omitted, except that it was necessary, as the means of explaining
some of the feelings with which the young Lerma was regarded by the
general and his chief followers.

There is no eloquence so persuasive as that of distress, uttered without
complaint; and no story of hardship and peril fails of exciting
sympathy, when recounted with truth and modesty. Accordingly, the
narrative of the exile produced among the cavaliers a powerful
impression in his favour, which was heightened into admiration by the
consciousness that nothing but the greatest constancy of purpose, and
mental resources beyond those of ordinary men, could have conducted him
through his long and perilous enterprise. Many of those, who seemed to
remember with most interest the breach between the general and one who
had been formerly considered almost his adopted son, kept their eyes
curiously bent on Cortes; and they did not doubt, from the changes of
his countenance, that his better feelings were deeply engaged, and would
perhaps restore the young man to the confidence and affection which all
knew he had lost. This belief became universal, when, at the close of
the story, the Captain-General arose, and addressing the throng, said,

"Cavaliers and friends, we will free all present from the tedium of this
audience, saving only the gentlemen of the Secret Counsel, and these our
returned friends.--Nay, by my faith, Gaspar of the Red Beard, thou mayst
depart likewise, to speak thy adventures to thine old friends, which
thou art doubtless itching to do; or, if thou likest that better, get
thee to Antonio de Quinones, our Master of the Armory, and choose
thyself a good sword, buckler and breastplate. Thou art a true soldier,
and, by and by, I have somewhat to say to thee.--The knave has the gait
of an infidel!"

At this signal for breaking up the audience, which was pronounced with
the grave and easy authoritativeness of one long accustomed to command,
the individuals present, Christian and heathen, princes, chieftains, and
cavaliers, took their departure, leaving behind them Sandoval, Alvarado,
and a few other officers of high standing.

As Juan stood, embarrassed between hope and doubt, the señor Guzman
descended from the platform, and, passing him, said with a low voice and
a derisive smile,

"You mount, señor, and Bobadil neighs for you! It is better--the war is
equal."

So saying, he passed on.




CHAPTER VII.


"Señor Juan Lerma," said Cortes, when the last of the assemblage had
reluctantly departed:--He had descended from the platform, and spoke
with a voice, which, if not decidedly friendly, was, at least, free from
every trace of sternness:--"Señor Juan Lerma, I have to say, that for
the result of your enterprise, however it has been attended by calamity,
you deserve both thanks and honours; and it will rest upon your own
determination whether you shall obtain them or not. Some things there
are, growing out of this affair, of which it becomes me to speak; and
thereby I shall give you an opportunity to remove certain stains not yet
washed from your good name; and after that, to take off others that are
thought to attach to mine. Hast thou not heard of those fierce and fatal
wars, that broke out in Mexico shortly after thy departure."

"I have," said Juan; "the king's spies brought the news to Tzintzontzan;
and they were not only lamentable to hear, but they caused us to be cast
into cages, and devoted, as we feared, to die the death of sacrifice:
For know, señor, the sanguinary Mexitli is the god of all this land."

"And hadst thou no suspicion, before departing, that these wars were
brewing, and threatening us with destruction? Thou wert somewhat quicker
in catching the heathen tongue than others, and wert not without
counsellors and friends even among the household of Montezuma."

To this demand, the young man, though embarrassed by the innuendo that
followed it, did not hesitate to answer:

"I had such suspicions, and I made them known to your excellency."

"You did indeed," said Cortes, musingly; "and I derided them, being
somewhat heated at the time: but counsel to an irritated temper is even
sharper than salt on a wounded skin.--This knowledge, señor," he went
on, "some will impute to thee as good reason why thou shouldst loiter
fourteen months in the wilderness, to avoid sharing in our perils, which
were somewhat more horrible than have ever before beset Christian men."

"This," said Juan, firmly, and a little dryly, for there was something
in the tone of the speaker, which, though he knew not why, impressed him
unpleasantly,--"this is to make me a coward, which your excellency will
not believe me to be."

"By my conscience, no!" said Cortes, with emphasis. "Without much
thought of this present expedition of which we speak, there is no man
will accuse thee of fear, who has heard of thy voyage in the fusta. By
my conscience, a most mad piece of daring!" he continued as if in
admiration, although it was observable, that, while he spoke, his
countenance darkened, as though there were some disagreeable thought
associated with the recollection. "No," he went on, "there will be more
said of anger and ambition than of terror. Thou knowest, we have envy
and detraction about us, that spare none. I can hear, already, how
Villafana and other knaves of his peevish, malicious temper, will speak
of thee.--They will speak of thy causes for resentment, of the promised
favour of the plotting king, a principality among the lakes, with the
hope of loftier succession, and the hand of the princely Maiden of the
Star,----"

"And this," cried Juan, interrupting the general, "this is to make me a
traitor and apostate! Señor, I doubt not that the señor Guzman is at the
bottom of all this slander: and I therefore claim to defie,--"

"Peace! wilt thou put thyself in opposition again? If thou dost but
raise thy hand in wrath, save against an infidel enemy, thou wert better
never to have been born!"

The sudden sternness with which these words were uttered, checked the
impetuosity of the youth, and filled him again with anxious forebodings.
The general, instantly resuming the milder tones with which he had
spoken before, continued,

"So much will be said of _thee_. Before I offer thee my hand, in token
that I desire to forget everything of the past, but that I once truly
loved thee, and before I propose to thee a new and honourable
duty,--hear,--not what will be, but what has been said of _myself_, in
relation to thine expedition and to thee."

Here the general paused a moment, eyeing the youth intently, as if to
read his most secret thoughts; then continuing, he said, with the utmost
gravity,

"It has been said of me, señor Juan Lerma, that I sent thee upon thy
enterprise of the South Seas, in the malicious thought that the blow of
savages might execute the sentence of vengeance I cared not to commit to
a Christian assassin. What thinkest thou of this?"

"Even that it is the blackest and insanest of slanders; and that it
shows me, I have little cause to marvel at my own loss of credit, when I
find that malice can aim even at your excellency's. Whatever may have
been your anger, I never believed your excellency would conceal it, much
less expend it, in secret vengeance upon a feeble wretch like myself."

"Thou hast but little worldly knowledge," said the Captain-General, half
smiling, "or thou wouldst know, that revenge is of a reptile's nature,
crawling rather in secret among dark thickets than openly over sunny
plains, and none the less venomous, that it can lie half a year torpid.
Neither put thou much trust in innocent looks; which, to a shrewd eye,
are like sea-water,--the smoother they lie, the deeper can they be
looked into."

Having pronounced these metaphorical maxims with much gravity, his eye
all the time bent on the youth, Cortes paused for a moment, as if for a
reply; when, receiving none, for, in truth, Juan, not well comprehending
them, knew not what to answer, he continued,

"Let us understand one another. There has been strife between
us,--strife and ill-will. I have perhaps done you injustice: I thought I
had cause. By my conscience, young man, I once loved you very well--I
have been sorry for you."

"I have deserved your displeasure," said Juan, hurriedly, moved by the
earnestness with which the general spoke; "but, I hope, not beyond
forgiveness."

"Surely not, surely not," said Cortes; "but what I may forget as thy
friend, I am still bound to consider as thy general. I am now the king's
officer, and it becomes me, forgetting all private feelings, to know no
friends but those who approve themselves true and valuable servants of
his majesty. In this character, I must remember some of thy past acts
with disfavour; but in both, it is not improper I should desire thou
shouldst have opportunity fully to retrieve thy good name, and, in spite
of envy and detraction, to deserve such friendship as I have shown thee
in former years."

The exile pondered a moment over the words of the general, in more
indecision than before. They spoke of friendship and kindness, and
seemed to offer an apology for severity that was rather official than
personal; and yet, in this apology, was a degree of reproach, of which
it appeared Cortes's resolution to keep him always sensible.
Nevertheless, this very tone of complaint served to soothe the little
exasperation of feelings which had remained in Juan's breast, while
smarting under a sense of wrong and injustice. Anger both irritates and
hardens the heart; reproach softens, while it distresses. It seemed
obvious to Juan, that Cortes, while apprizing him that a full
reconciliation had not yet taken place, was willing, nay anxious, that
it should. He answered therefore with the greatest fervour,

"If your excellency will but show me in what manner I may regain your
favour--at least your belief that I have not wantonly rejected it--I
call heaven to witness, I will remember it as such an act of kindness as
that which _this_ must ever keep me in memory of."

As he spoke, he touched with his finger a rapier-scar on his right
breast, which the narrowness and peculiar fashion of his mantle scarcely
enabled him to conceal, even when so disposed.

At this sight, Cortes seemed disordered, if not offended, saying after
striding to and fro for an instant,

"Let these follies be forgotten! Bury the past, and think only of the
future. It is true, I avenged thy wrong--It gives me no pleasure to
remember it.--Did I think this, when I made thee my son,--fed thee at my
board, lodged thee on my couch, advanced thee, honoured thee, fought thy
battles? did I think _this_? Pho! Juan Lerma, thou hast not repaid me
well!"

"Señor!" said Juan, surprised and confounded by the sudden and
reproachful bitterness of these words; "when I presumed to speak to you
in opposition to your measures, it was with the boldness--the folly--of
affection, jealous for your excellency's--your excellency's--"

"Honour!" said Cortes, sharply. "Let us speak of this no more. To
business, señor, to business. Leave mine honour to mine own keeping:
thou wilt find, I have it even in my thoughts. To business, to business.
What say ye, Councillors?--Wilt thou truly steal my dog from me? If you
rob me of naught else, it is no matter.--What say you, señor Capitan Del
Salto? what say you, Sandoval? Is this young man fit to be entrusted
with a captain's command? He was a good Cornet.--Can we confide to him a
duty of danger and trust? His pilgrimage to the Hummingbird-land,
methinks, was well conducted. What say you? I have a goodly thought for
him--But I will abide your better judgment."

"By St. James," said Alvarado, "there is no braver lad in the army; and
were he but of clear hidalgo lineage, I should say, give him a command
with the best. But here is my thought: he is a good sailor, especially
in piraguas and galleys: give him a brigantine. I will crave to have him
in the squadron attached to mine own division."

"In my mind," said Sandoval, "he is good for the land service. It is
needful we revenge the death of Salcedo and his eighty loons, who
suffered themselves to be killed before Tochtepec. Lerma has the love of
the dog Xicotencal, who loves nobody else. He can follow the young
señor, with some twenty thousand or so of his bare-legs; and they can
take the town among them."

"A good thought," said Cortes, "a good thought: for this is a command
which, nobody coveting, there will be none to envy. What sayst thou,
señor Lerma? wilt thou adventure upon a deed thought to be both
dangerous and desperate? Choose for thyself: I will compel thee to
nothing. I tell thee the truth.--No captain seeks after this employment,
and three have refused, except upon condition that I give them, besides
as many Indians as they can raise, three hundred picked Spaniards. Thou
canst not look for more than twenty, with some five or six horsemen."

The eyes of the exile sparkled.

"Your excellency honours me."

"Never think so; deceive not thyself," said Cortes, with apparent
frankness. "The enterprise is dangerous, nay, as I have said, desperate;
and by my conscience, it will be said of it, as of the South Sea
journey, that it is devised for thy ruin.--If I honour thee, I must
suffer thereby: no evil can happen to thee, that will not be maliciously
imputed to wicked and premeditated design. By my conscience, there are
many who think me but a hangman in disguise!"

"I hope your excellency will not think of these things," said Juan,
fervently. "I will do battle with any one who presumes--"

"Peace: have I not told thee already that the duel is forbidden under
heavy penalties? I swear to thee, they shall be enforced, in all cases
of disobedience, were it upon my own brother.--I tell thee again, I can
advance thee to no service which will not make me the mark of slander.
There are fools about us, who, I know not why, have tortured anger into
hatred, and will now interpret good-will into malignant treachery. But I
care not for this: the tall tree catches the bolts that pass by the
underwood,--the rock that rises above the sea, is lashed by breakers,
while the grovellers at the bottom lie in tranquillity. It is thus with
the condition of man;--peace abides with the lowly, envy shoots arrows
at the high. Think of this, think of this, Juan Lerma, when thou hearest
me maligned."

"I shall not need," said Juan. "The more dangerous the duty, the more
must I thank your excellency for your confidence. I beseech, therefore,
that I may be permitted to undertake this present enterprise."

"Wilt thou march them on foot, and with no better arms than thy Indian
battle-axe and buckler?" demanded the general, gravely.

"I have heard," said Juan, with hesitation, "that your excellency has in
charge certain horses and arms, which of right are mine, as being the
gifts of a bountiful friend."

"It is even so," said Cortes, "and the restoration of them, which thou
canst justly claim, will cause some heart-burnings. I must crave your
pardon for having presumed to bestow them away, as though they had been
mine own property."

"Under your favour," said Juan, "considering that they were the gifts of
your excellency's ever honoured and beloved lady--"

"Ha!" cried Cortes, with a darkening visage, "what fiend possessed thee
with this impertinent conceit?"

"I beg your excellency's pardon for my presumption," said Juan, "which
was indeed caused no more by rumour than by a belief that there was no
other being in the world, who could thus far have befriended me."

"Why then," said Cortes, "if thou knowest not the donor, it is the more
remarkable; for nobody else does. Very strange! Two horses, the worst of
which is worth full nine hundred crowns, and Bobadil almost
priceless;--a suit of armour so well chosen to thy stature, that never a
man of us all but is as loose in the cuirass as a shrivelled walnut in
the shell,--all very positively sent to _thee_ from Santiago,--for thee,
señor, and for nobody else!"

"They are saint's gifts," said Alvarado, devoutly: "the young man has
suffered much, and has found favour with heaven."

"Señor," said Juan, mildly, "you are jesting with me. I will hope, by
and by, to discover this benevolent patron. What I have to say now, is
that my wants will be content with but one of the horses; the return of
which will cause your excellency no trouble,--the same being in the
hands of the señor Guzman, who has already signified his intention to
restore him."

"Ha! has he so, indeed? Why thy very enemies have become thy friends!"

"As for the armour, señor," continued the youth, without thinking fit to
notice the latter exclamation, "I will make no claim to it, if you have
bestowed it away. A simple morion and breastplate,--or indeed a good cap
and doublet of escaupil, if iron be scarce,--will content me, provided I
have but a good sword and steed."

"Thou shalt have both," said Cortes, "and the plate-mail also; which
being somewhat too gigantic for any cavalier, and too good for a common
soldier, I have preserved, thinking some day to bestow it upon the
Tlascalan Xicotencal.--Thou art not loath to undertake this business? I
will give thee a day to think of it."

"Not an hour, señor," said Juan, ardently. "Give me but time to exchange
these heathen weeds and sandals for good armour and a warhorse, and I
will depart instantly, with whatsoever force you may think fit to
entrust to me."

"Art thou really, then, so hot after danger?"

"God is my protection," said Juan; "I thank heaven, that this duty _is_
the most dangerous your excellency could charge me with: it is, for that
reason, the most honourable."

"Sayst thou so?" cried the Captain-General, quickly. "There is _one_
duty, at least, I could impose upon thee, which thou wouldst not be so
hasty to accept? No, faith; for the very name of it has caused the
boldest soldier in the army to turn pale.--Get thee to the armory; rest
and refresh thyself: to-morrow thou shalt to Tochtepec."

"Señor, for your love I will do what others will not: I have years of
benefaction to repay. I claim to be appointed to that task which is so
dreadful to others."

"By my conscience, no," said Don Hernan: "_this_ would be sending thee
to execution indeed. And yet I know none so well fitted as thyself: Thou
art fearless, cunning, discreet,--at least thou canst be so; and thou
art a master of the barbarous language, I think?"

"Your excellency once commended the success with which I laboured to
acquire it: my year's wanderings in the west have made it familiar to me
almost as the tongue of Castile."

"It is a good endowment," said Cortes. "What thinkest thou of an
embassage to Tenochtitlan?"

As he spoke, pronouncing each word with deliberate emphasis, he bent his
eyes searchingly on Juan, and a smile crept over his features, as he
perceived the young man lose colour and start.

"The man that would do me _that_ duty," he continued, gravely, "would
indeed deserve well, not only of myself, but of his majesty, the king of
Spain. But think not I mean to overtask thee,--or that I seriously
designed to try thee with this rack of probation.--There are bounds to
the courage of us all."

"Your excellency mistakes me," said Juan, dispelling all emotion with a
single effort, and speaking with a voice as firm as it was serious: "if
there be but one good can come of such an embassy--"

"There might be _many_," said the general, "not the least of which would
be the conquest of the city, and thereby of the whole land, without the
loss of Christian lives. Could I but find speech with the prince
Guatimozin, I have that which will move him to peaceful submission. But
this is impossible."

"Again your excellency is deceived," said Juan, with the composure of
one who has taken his resolution. "I will do your bidding,--I will carry
your message to Mexico."

"Pho! I did but jest with thee. Three Indian envoys have I sent already:
the infidel slew them all."

"And cannot your excellency answer why? Your envoys were Indians,--your
excellency's allies, but his subjects, who, in the act of alliance, had
committed the crimes of treason and rebellion; for which he punished
them with death, as seemed to him right and just. A Spanish ambassador
would be received with greater respect, and perhaps dismissed without
injury. I will not, with a boastful vanity, proclaim that I fear
nothing; but such fears as I have, are not enough to deter me; and again
I say, I will do your bidding."

"My bidding!" cried Cortes; "I bid thee not; heaven forfend I should bid
thee any such thing. But if thou really thinkest the danger is not
great,--if thou art so persuaded--" He paused; his eyes sparkled; he
strode to and fro in disorder. Then suddenly halting, he exclaimed, with
a faint laugh, "No, by my conscience! no, by heaven! no, by St. James of
Compostella! thou art the bravest fool of all, but thou shalt not die
the death of a dog! I will not catch thee with tiger-traps!"

To these extraordinary expressions, Juan answered with emotion, but
still with unvarying resolution,

"I wait your excellency's orders. I fear not death; I am alone in the
world;--father or mother, brother or sister, kinsman or friend, there is
not one to lament me, should I come to disaster. If I live, I will, as
your excellency has said, have saved the effusion of Christian blood; if
I die, heaven will remember the motive, and none will miss me.--I will
go to Tenochtitlan."

"Thou art a fool," said Alvarado. "Señor Captain-General, this embassy
may not be; I protest against it. The world will cry shame on us."

"I do oppose the same," said Sandoval, "as being the wilful throwing
away of a Christian life."

The other cavaliers present were about to add their voices against the
measure, when Cortes cut them short by saying, sternly,

"Are ye all mad, señores? Think ye, this thing was said seriously? I did
but try the young man's mettle, and I do think he hath somewhat less of
gaingiving about him, as well as much more folly, than any one here
present. I must get me an ambassador; but, Juan Lerma, thou art not the
man."

"To my thought," said Sandoval, "this old Indian, Ocelotzin, will be a
much safer emissary."

Apparently the Ottomi, who had listened throughout the whole conference
with great attention, and who understood just enough of it to know the
course that affairs were taking, did not at all relish the suggestion of
Sandoval. He started, flung the gray curtain of hair from his visage,
and began to pour forth a torrent of such objurgations and remonstrances
as he could find Spanish to express:

"I am not Ocelotzin, the Tiger," he exclaimed; "very weak and old I
am,--no claw, no tooth, no roar."--And here the barbarian, by way of
confirming his speech, set up a yell, so wild, shrill, and hideous, that
the cavaliers started back, catching at their swords in alarm, and two
or three soldiers from the ante-room rushed in, as if apprehending some
act of treason. But the dog Befo, who had hitherto maintained his post
at the feet of Lerma, now rubbing against his knees, now rearing against
his breast, and sometimes, when pushed down and too long neglected,
expressing his impatience or affection, by extending his vast jaws, as
if to swallow the hand that repelled him,--the dog Befo heard the cry of
the savage with such indignation as he would have bestowed upon the howl
of a rival. He replied with a lion-like growl, and stalking up to the
Ottomi, he stood watching him, ever and anon writhing his lips so as to
disclose his huge fangs, and seemed waiting the signal to attack,
greatly to the terror of the orator.

A wave of the general's hand dismissed the intruding soldiers from the
apartment; and at the voice of Lerma, the dog returned to him.

"I am Techeechee," said the orator, resuming his discourse, but with
tones greatly subdued; "I am Techeechee, the Silent Dog,--the Silent Dog
I am; Techeechee, the Silent Dog,--the Silent Dog I am.--Techeechee."--

All this time, he kept his eyes fixed upon Befo as if dreading an
assault; and, in fact, his solicitude had somewhat overpowered his mind,
so that he continued for some moments to reiterate the above phrases,
without any seeming consciousness of their absurdity. At last, he fell
into his vernacular language, and this happily releasing him from his
trammels, he poured forth, with amazing volubility, a string of sounds,
so harsh, guttural, inarticulate, and unearthly, that they seemed rather
the basso chatterings of an ape than the meaning accents of a human
being.

"What says the knave?" cried Cortes.

"He says," replied Juan, "that he is the little dumb dog of the hills,
and will harm nobody; that Montezuma was a big dog, like Befo, (wherein
he lies,) and that Guatimozin the prince is bigger still, and will eat
him,--which is to be understood figuratively. He says, he is the Little
Dog, and therefore not fit to be an ambassador; but--Ha! what sayst
thou, Techeechee?"--

The young man spoke to the Ottomi in his own tongue, and receiving an
answer, turned immediately to Cortes, saying,

"It becomes me to inform your excellency of his words; for savage though
he be, this old man I have ever found to be marvellously shrewd, as well
as faithful. It is his opinion, that the prince Guatimozin would not
injure _me_, if I went on the embassy; wherefore, I beg your excellency
to reconsider your resolution. He says, too, he will go with me."

"Your destiny, señor, is to the rebellious and bloody town Tochtepec,"
replied the general, quickly and decidedly.

"He adds," continued Juan, "that he is Techeechee and no ambassador; but
that he is cousin to Quimichin, the Ground Rat, and that he will be your
spy,--for _quimichin_ is the word by which they express a spy throughout
the whole land."

"I am Techeechee; I will be Quimichin," said the Indian, as if to
confirm the words of Juan, and twisting his withered features into a
smile, that was meant to express both cunning and affection.

"Dost thou think him faithful?" said Cortes. "I will find service for
him. But go, amigo! I have kept thee till thou art as faint and weary as
myself. Get thee to Quinones, and the armory. Make thy preparations and
take thy rest. I will see thee on the morrow--perhaps to-night, and
acquaint thee with thy force and instructions. God be with you--Nay,
heed not the dog--Adieu, señores--He has much of your own fidelity, roam
he never so much. Take him with you."

When the last of the cavaliers had departed from the chamber, the
Captain-General, stepped upon the platform, and throwing himself into
the chair of state, sat or reclined thereon, with the air of one worn
out by exertion of mind and body, and on the eve of sinking into a
swoon.




CHAPTER VIII.


According to the apologue, every man carries on his back a satchel, in
which are deposited his infirmities and vices, and which, though thus
concealed from his own eyes, lies very invitingly open to the inspection
of his friends. Not satisfied with this exposure of foibles, there are
some good-natured moralists, who would dive deeper into the secrets of
their neighbours, and who lament, with the old heathen metaphysician,
that heaven had not clapped windows into their breasts, so that they
might detect even the iniquity of thoughts. This regret may be avoided
by all who are willing to satisfy curiosity at their own expense; for
heaven has fitted most bosoms with private loopholes, through which each
man may survey at his leisure the workings of his own spirit. A peep
through the secret casement will disclose something startling, if not
humbling, to many, who, in the vanity of good works, are disposed to
uplift themselves above their fellows;--such, perhaps, as rational
principles, and even kindly feelings, taking their hue from 'that
smooth-faced gentleman,'--that biassing spirit which is more
comprehensively expressed in Shakespeare's phrase of _Commodity_ than in
the more familiar one of Interest; for it is true of us all, that
virtues are sometimes nothing but passions in disguise, and that reason
has a marvellous facility in acquiring the tones of worldly-wisdom. If
the mere grovelling villain,--the robber, assassin, or slayer of man's
peace,--can find some such spectacle near to his heart as the surgeon's
knife exposes in the breast of a cankered corse, what may _he_ detect,
whose sublimer villany has led, or is leading him, to distinction, upon
a highway paved with the miseries of mankind? Methinks, the breast of
the ambitious man is a labyrinth of some such caverns as perforate the
bowels of a volcano, in whose depths are lost all the petty details of
crime, committed, or meditated,--in which there is no light but that
which bubbles up from the lava of the vast passion,--and in which there
is even no grandeur, that has not arisen from convulsions the most
disorganizing and unnatural. Such a heart is, at least to the limited
ken of others, a chaos,--but a chaos from which he who imbosoms it, and
who alone can understand it, calls up,--less like a god than a
demon,--the evil elements, which create the lurid sphere his greatness.

In the bosom of the Conquistador there was a corner, into which the
blaze of ambition had not yet penetrated, and where the common passions
of our nature were left to rage and struggle as in the heart of a meaner
mortal. As he looked therein, he gave himself up to thoughts which
devoured him, while his countenance betrayed, for a time at least,
nothing beyond such lassitude and faintness as may have characterized
the Spartan boy, while bleeding under the fangs of the beast he
concealed in his bosom.

As he sat brooding in this apparently calm, yet deeply suffering
lethargy, there glided into the apartment, from one of the curtained
doors on the right hand, a figure, which, seen for the first time and in
the dusky twilight already darkening around, might, to superstitious
eyes, have seemed an apparition,--it was so strange, so fair, so
majestic, and so mournful. It presented a stature taller than belongs to
the beauty of woman, yet not inconsistent with the conception of a
divinity; and to this a singular dignity was given by flowing and
voluminous robes of a grayish texture, which, both in hue and fashion,
bore an air of monastic simplicity, without precisely resembling those
of any one order. A sort of hood, or veil, drawn a little aside and
resting upon the brow, gave to view a female countenance of wonderful
loveliness, and not without a share of that commanding dignity, which
distinguished her figure. Her hair, shorn, or perhaps bound behind by a
fillet, and thus almost altogether concealed by the hood, gave yet to
the gaze two long locks, broad and black, which, falling over either
cheek, were lost among the folds of the veil which her right hand held
upon her bosom. A complexion dark, yet not tawny,--a chin and nostrils
carved like the most exquisite statuary,--lips of dusky crimson,--a brow
of marble, and an eye of midnight, made up a countenance both beautiful
and characteristic, yet contradictory in the expression of its several
parts, and sometimes even in the expression of the same features. Thus,
the first impression made upon a spectator by the whole visage, was such
as could only be effected by extreme gentleness of disposition; while
the second, he scarce knew why, spoke of energy and decision, none the
less striking for being concealed under a mask so captivating. Thus,
also, the eyes, very large and set widely apart, conveyed, on ordinary
occasions, the idea of a spirit passive, melancholy, and inanimate;
though the slightest depression of the brow, the smallest motion of the
lid, transformed them at once into the brightest torches of passion. If
one could conceive the spirit of a Philomela--a compound of sweet
tenderness and still sweeter melancholy--dashed with the fire of a
Penthesilea, he might conjure up to his mind's eye a correct
representation of the mysterious being, (alluded to by Villafana, under
the name of La Monjonaza, or the Nun, the word being a sort of cant
augmentative of _Monja_, a nun,) whom an extraordinary destiny had
thrown among the warlike invaders of Mexico.

As she passed from the thick curtain and advanced towards the platform,
on which sat the moody general, her visage presented none of its
ordinary mildness; on the contrary, her brows were knit together, her
lip retracted, and the look with which she regarded him whom all others
were learning to fear, was bold, stern, and even fiercely hostile.

The rustling of the curtain, the light sound of her footstep, the bright
glance of her eye, when she paused before him, all alike failed to make
an impression on the general's senses. She perceived that he was in a
waking dream, absorbingly profound and painful, and she stood in
silence, from disdainful pride, or perhaps with a woman's curiosity,
endeavouring to trace the workings of his spirit from the revelations of
his countenance, which, by this time, had changed from a stony
inexpressiveness to agitation and distortion. At this moment, the head
of the Conqueror was bent forwards, and his eyes directed upon the
floor; but she saw enough in the writhing features, and the forehead
almost impurpled with blood, to know that the passions then convulsing
his bosom, were dark and deadly.

At this sight, the frown gradually passed away from her own visage, and
she stood regarding him for the space of several minutes, with a calm
and melancholy intentness. Then, perceiving that his lips, though moving
as if in speech, gave out no articulate sound, she exclaimed, with a
voice that thrilled to his soul, though subdued to the lowest accents,

"Arise, assassin! It is _not_ just, it is _not_ expedient; and he shall
NOT perish!"

It seemed as if she had read his heart. He started up, surprised and
confounded; and his first act was to cross himself, as if to exorcise a
fiend, conjured up by the mere spell of evil thoughts. He even gave
voice to two or three interjections of alarm, before perceiving that the
rebuke came only from lips of earth.

"Hah! hah! Santa Maria! Santos y Angeles! hah!--Ho! ho! Infeliz!
Magdalena! fair conqueror of hearts! bright converter of souls that
shalt be! is it thou, _Monja mia Santisima_? most devout saint of the
veil?" he cried, recovering his self-possession, and banishing every
trace of passion with astonishing address. "By thy bright eyes of
heaven,--and thanks be thine for the good deed,--thou hast waked me from
a dream of night-mare, a most horrible vision. These naps o' the
afternoon are but provokers of Incubus,--ay, and Succuba into the
bargain. I thank thee, bright Infeliz: it is better to be waked by thy
voice, than by sweet music!"

"And dost thou think," said the lady, with a voice whose deep but not
unfeminine tones suited so well with the mournfulness of her
emphasis,--"dost thou think, I see not, this moment, into thy bosom?
Visions and sleep! Speak of visions to thy dull conquerors: they who
dream of immortal renown, can best appreciate a vision of bloodshed.
Speak of sleep to thy duller victims: the stupid wretches who slumber
with the chain at their necks, may well believe that the enslaver has
also his seasons of repose. But talk not of these to _me_, who look upon
thee neither with the eyes of follower nor of foe. Thou canst not sleep,
thou dost not dream: thy head is too full of fame, thy foot too deep in
blood, thy heart too black with evil thoughts--No, nevermore canst thou
sleep, nevermore, nevermore!"

The last words were uttered with a cadence so extremely melancholy, and
with a manner so much like that of one who apostrophizes self, that a
stranger overhearing them, and marking the look and gesture--the
upturned eye and the folding of arms on the breast--would have naturally
supposed they referred rather to herself than to another. This was,
indeed, a suspicion, entertained, in part, by Cortes, who, somewhat
confounded by the calm decision with which she rejected a deceitful
attempt to explain expressions of countenance so ominous as those he had
displayed, now recovered himself, and said, with an air of grave
sympathy, in which earnestness could not conceal a vein of sarcasm and
bagatelle, that were parts of his nature,

"Fair Infeliz, the Unhappy, (since by this lugubrious epithet you choose
to be called,) it is now some two months since you dropped among us from
the clouds, the fairest, shrewdest and strangest, as well as the most
broken-hearted, and self-accusing of all the angels that have fallen
from paradise. For mine own part, however fervently I may thank heaven
for sending me such a minister, I have not yet got over my amazement at
your presence; which I indeed regard with much the same wonder wherewith
I should behold the sun of heaven take up his quarters at my tent-door."

"In this particular," said the lady, with the utmost tranquillity, "you
should have been satisfied, (had it accorded with your nature to believe
any solution of a problem, that was not suggested by your own
imagination,) that the deceptions of others, and no will of my own,
brought me from Santiago to Mexico, in a ship which should have carried
me to Jamaica.--Your allies do not fit out vessels openly for this land,
under the eye of Velasquez.--But why ask you me this? Hast thou no
better device to lure me from my purpose? I came, not to speak of
myself, but of others. Thou couldst have played the lapwing more subtly,
hadst thou dwelt upon the whispers, the nods, the smiles of contempt and
the words of scorn, that heralded a compelled coming, find which requite
an inevitable stay. But learn, if thou hast not yet learned it, that
these things are felt more than they are feared, and that she who has
not deserved it, may sometimes have the courage to endure even a
degrading misconstruction. Why hast thou not insinuated _this_?"
continued the singular being, with a voice that betrayed more feeling
than her pride confessed: "this would have drowned every other thought
in a true woman; for to woman, good name and fame are more than
life-blood,--yes, more than life!--I save thee, however, the trouble; I
am reminded of my condition,--a woman alone in thy camp, alone in thy
hands;--and yet I return to my purpose, which concerns not myself, but
another. Wilt thou have me speak further of myself? If it last till the
midnight, be sure I will yet speak of that which I have in view."

"Of thyself, then, beauteous Infeliz," said Cortes, admiringly; "for I
vow to heaven, thou art the marvel of womankind, whom I desire to
understand even more than to adore. Sit thou upon my barbarian throne,
and I will fling me at thy feet, in token that I acknowledge thy
supremacy in wit, wisdom, subtle observation, determination, and all
other virtues that can grace woman,--ay, or man either; for I swear by
my conscience, I think thou art valiant also, fearing nothing that walks
under heaven or above the abyss. To the throne then, as queen of my
mystery."

"I will answer thee where I stand," said Infeliz, calmly disengaging the
hand which the Conquistador had taken to lead her to the platform; "and
think not, this gallant folly will make me a whit quicker of
apprehension, or reply. Make thy demands, and gain thereby what time
thou wilt to answer mine; for this is thy purpose."

"Well then," said the Captain-General, with a look of not less respect
than curiosity, "make me acquainted with this. Wherefore, as thy coming
hither was so much against thy will, hast thou not once demanded to be
taken back to the islands?"

"Because it is not yet my will to be discharged from your presence,"
replied the lady, calmly.

"Be thou of this mind for ever," said the general, with an air of
sincerity. "Now let me know, I pray you, why it is that I am somewhat
more forward in confiding to thy scrutiny my secret thoughts than to the
best and wisest of my bold cavaliers?"

"Because thou knowest I neither love thee nor hate thee; because I lose
not good-will by asking honours and spoils, nor by boasting of services
and ability; but chiefly am I troubled with your confidence, because I
am the only one who lists not to have it."

"By my faith, thou art very right, especially in the last reason of
all," said Cortes, with a laugh; "for secrets are like gnats and
musket-bullets, they ever crowd thickest after those who strive most to
avoid them.--Tell me now, fair and most provoking Infeliz, why, when I
have flung thee open the whole book of my confidence, thou givest me not
a single chapter of thine?"

"Because it extends not beyond that single chapter," replied La
Monjonaza, patiently, "hath neither beginning nor end, and is, beside,
in a language which thou canst not understand."

"Pho, you put me off with nothing," said Don Hernan, again taking the
hand of his remarkable guest. "I have but one more question to ask you.
Why is it, (and I pray you to forgive me the question,) that, with the
consciousness that your situation in this mad land and knavish army,
exposes you not only to degrading suspicion, but even to absolute
personal danger, you betray no apprehension of the wild reprobates among
whom you are placed? that you show no dread even of me?"

"Because," said the maiden, removing her right hand, which she had, up
to this moment, preserved upon her breast, and drawing aside the thick
folds of veil and mantle,--"because, for the wretch who fears not the
woman's arms of modesty and helplessness, I bear with me a weapon which
will secure his respect."

And as she spoke, the eye of Don Hernan fell upon a naked and glittering
poniard thrust through her girdle, and worn as if it had long formed a
part of the habit.

There was something inexpressibly impressive in the calm and simple
dignity with which, in the very gesture that pointed out a protection so
insufficient, she acknowledged a weakness, in all other respects,
unfriended. Cortes, in the multitude of his base and graspingly selfish
attributes, was not without some traits of a more generous character;
and especially admiring a courage so self-relying, so unaffectedly real,
and perhaps so much akin to his own, he had enough of the old leaven of
chivalric feeling, to understand and appreciate the claims of the sex to
his compassion and protection. That he had other reasons for treating La
Monjonaza with respect, cannot be denied.

"Give me thy hand, Magdalena," he said, with an action and voice rather
indicating the familiarity of a patron than that of a presumptuous
suitor: "Thou art right; thou art a creature after mine own heart; and I
swear to thee, I will do thee no wrong, nor suffer it to be done thee by
another. Heed not what may be said of thee; my dogs would bay an angel,
should one condescend to pay them a visit. Thy cloister-like garments
are not amiss;--there be more that venerate than malign thee, for this
reason; and, thank heaven, the padre Olmedo finds no sin in thy wearing
them. Wilt thou be seated? There is peace between us; let there be
confidence. What hast thou to ask of me, Magdalena? Thy revenge is at
hand."

The maiden returned the scrutinizing look of the general with one which,
if not so piercing, was at least quite as steady:

"Your excellency has thrice called me, who call myself Infeliz, by a
name not authorized by any revealments of mine," she said: "you speak
also of revenge,--of _my_ revenge!--Yes," she muttered, with a quivering
lip; "this is a thing to be thought of, not spoken."

She paused a moment, and Cortes, casting a quick eye round the
apartment, said, in a voice confidentially low and insinuating,

"I would the story had come from yourself. But it matters not,--I have
it; and disguise is no longer availing. You lose nothing by the change,
for I see, thy spirit hath the elements of mine own. Ah! water in the
desert! the first kiss of a lover! breath to the suffocating!--such is
revenge to the soul of the mighty!--I know thee, thy history and thy
purpose.--I have dandled the boy Hilario upon my knee!"

The strong and meaning stress laid upon the last abrupt words, only
served to drive the colour from the maiden's cheeks and lips. In all
other respects, she remained calm and collected, and replied gravely,--

"The tale comes from the Alguazil Villafana--"

"Hah!" said Cortes, in surprise; "how knowest thou that?"

"Because there is no other,--no other, save _one_, who will not speak
it,--in all this land, who knows so much of me; and because, were there
twenty, the man whom heaven has cursed with the industrious treachery of
a spider, and the rage to entangle all things in his flimsy web, would
be the first to betray me."

"Thou sayst the truth of Villafana," said Cortes, with a laugh of
peculiar exultation. "In spirit and intention, he is the insect you have
named; but yet he spins his web, less like the spider, with the chance
of destroying, than the silken-caterpillar, that toils for his master,
who will smother him in his work, as soon as it is perfected. Ay, thy
penetration is clear, thy conception just; the knave is, in all things,
a traitor,--a double, a triple,--a centupled traitor!"

"And you both spare him, and give him the means of multiplying his
dangerous villanies?"

"I do, by my conscience!" said Cortes, vivaciously. "There is a charm in
it, and no little policy. Dost thou think this little fly can deceive?
can deceive _me_?--Wert thou a man, thou wouldst know, that even above
the triumph of vengeance, is the joy of him who watches the nets that
his foe is spreading, and, as he watches, fastens them softly down upon
the ensnarer."

"And is the insect worthy to be toiled by the lion?"

"Ay,--when the lion is a _man_!--This is my diversion; it is also my
profit. I would not for a thousand crowns, any harm should come to so
serviceable a tool: a better decoy never circled the disaffected about
him. He is the touchstone that reveals me the metal of the
doubtful,--the diamond that cuts me the adamant of malignancy. I look
through him, as through the philosopher's glass, and behold the million
things of corruption that swarm in the hearts of the curs beneath
him.--By heaven! it joys me, that I have one to whom I can speak these
secret blisses. Thou art my vizier, my very familiar. Know then, that
this very night, the dog meditates a treachery, with which I will be
acquainted, and yet seem unacquainted. By my conscience, it delights me
to tell thee, with what exquisite industry the poor knave works me a
good, while foolishly believing he is doing me an ill. Dost thou not
remember that I have told thee, how much it concerns me to procure some
trusty envoy, to go between me and the young infidel, Guatimozin of
Tenochtitlan?"

"I am familiar with your wishes."

"Learn then, that, this night, Villafana himself procures me the
emissary I have myself sought after in vain,--a Mexican noble of high
rank.--I could kiss the dog for his knavery!"

"And wherefore does he this?"

"Faith, in the amiable wish to reconcile some of the jarring elements of
his conspiracy; to wit, the Tlascalans and Mexicans; the latter of whom,
this night, will, with his good help, show the black-cheeked Xicotencal
the advantages to be gained by uniting with his mighty and royal enemy
of Mexico, to secure the destruction of my insignificant self. Ha! ha!
Is not the thought absurdly delightful! Ah, Villafana! Villafana! I have
no such merry conceited good-fellow as thou!"

La Monjonaza beheld the exultation, and listened to the mirthful laugh
of the Conqueror with much interest, and not a little surprise. It did
indeed seem extraordinary, that he should be so heartily diverted by the
audacity of a villany that aimed at his downfall, and perhaps his life.
But this very merriment indicated how many majestic fathoms he felt
himself elevated above the reach of any arts of human malevolence or
opposition. It was as if the eagle, flapping his wings among
thunder-clouds, shrieked with contempt at schoolboys shooting up
birdbolts from the village-green.--It gave a clew to a characteristic
which Infeliz was not slow to unravel. A deep sigh from her lips
recalled the general from his diversion.

"Thou sighest, Magdalena?" he cried.

"It was for thee," she answered: "I sighed, indeed, to think how much
and how truly _thou_, thus elevated by a touch of divinity above the
children of men, dost yet resemble this miserable, grovelling, befooled
Villafana!"

"What, I? Resemble him? resemble Villafana?"

"Deny it, if thou canst," said the maiden, with rebuking severity; "and
if thou canst not, then humble thyself, and confess the base similitude.
Thou differest from him but in this,--that, whereas, in one quality,
thou art uplifted miles above his head, thou art, in another, sunk even
leagues _below_ him.--Thou frownest? Hast thou discovered that anger
adds aught to the state of dignity? Thou dost, this moment, even with
the crawling venom of Villafana, with a rage still more abased, seek a
life thou hast not courage openly to destroy."

"Santiago!" cried Cortes, in a heat; "by St. Peter, you are over-bitter.
But pho, I will not be angry with thee. Dost thou think me this coward
thing?"

"Hast thou not doomed the young man, Juan Lerma, a second time, to
death?" cried La Monjonaza, with an eye that trembled not a moment in
the gaze of the Captain-General; "and was it not with the embrace of a
Judas? Oh, señor!" she continued, firmly, "say not that Villafana is
either base or craven. _He_ strikes at the strong man, who sits armed
and with his eyes open: but thou, oh _thou_,--thou art content to aim at
the breast of the friendless and naked sleeper!--Judge between thyself
and Villafana."

It is impossible to express the mingled effects of shame and rage, that
disfigured the visage and convulsed the frame of the Captain-General, at
this powerful and altogether unexpected rebuke. He smote his brow, he
took two or three hasty steps over the floor; when, at last, a thought
striking him, he rushed back to the chider, snatched up her hand, and
said, with an attempt at laughter, painfully contrasted with his working
and even agonized visage,

"Dost thou quarrel with me for fighting thy battles? Oh, by St. James,
it is better to draw sword _on_ a friend than _for_ him: ingratitude
always comes of it. Had I thought this of old, I had been a happier man,
and thou never hadst mourned the death of Hilario;--no, by'r lady,
Hilario had been a living man, and thou happy with him in the island!"

As he hurried over these words, the diversion they gave to his thoughts,
enabled him rapidly to recover his self-command, in which, as in affairs
of less personal consequence, he always exhibited wonderful power. This
accomplished, he continued, with an earnest voice,

"Concealment is now useless: the time waxes, when I must think of other
things: let us shrive one another even as two friars, and deceive one
another no further than they. Methinks, what I do is for thy especial
satisfaction.--An ill loon I am, to do so much for one who so bitterly
censures me!--Who thou art, and what thou art, I know not: thou wert an
angel, couldst thou give over chiding. The young Hilario del Milagro was
the son of mine old friend Antonio:--a very noble boy,--I remember him
well.--By heaven, thy hand is turned to ice! Art thou ill?"

"Do I look so?" said the maiden, with a faint laugh. Her face had of a
sudden become very pale, yet she spoke firmly, though not without a
visible effort. "I listen to thy confession."

"To mine! By my troth, I am confessing _thy_ sins and sorrows, and not
mine. Well, Magdalena," he continued, "thy emotion is not amiss: it is
not every maiden can think calmly of the death of her lover, knowing
that his slayer is nigh.--I knew Hilario, when a boy,--ay, good faith,
and Juan Lerma, too, his playmate and foster-brother, or his young page
and varlet, I know not which. It was on Antonio's recommendation, that I
afterwards took this foundling knave to my bosom, and made him--no, not
what he _is_! for this is a thing of his own making. I sent him to
Española to recruit: he loitered,--he returned to the house of
Milagro--Shall I say more? Hilario, his brother, the son of his best
friend and patron, was the betrothed husband of Magdalena; and him did
the wolf-cub slay. Wo betide me! for it was I that taught him the use of
his weapon.--Is not this enough? Accident hath brought thee to Mexico;
thou seest the killer of thy lover; and, like a true daughter of Spain,
thy heart is full of vengeance.--Is not this true? Disguise thy wrath in
wild sarcasm no longer. Were he the king's son, he should----Pho! recall
thy words: Is it not 'just?' is it not 'expedient?'"

To these sinister demands, Magdalena replied with astonishing composure:

"All this is well. Shrive now thyself--Hast _thou_ any cause,
personally, to desire his death?"

"Millions!" replied the general, grinding his teeth; "millions,
millions! to which the death of Hilario, wringing at thy breast, is but
as a gnat-bite to the sting of adders.--Millions, millions!"

"Give him then to death," said Magdalena, with a voice so grave and
passionless, that it instantly surprised the Conquistador out of his
fury; "give him to death,--but let it be in _thy_ name, not _mine_."

"Art thou wholly inexplicable?" he cried. "I read thee by the alphabet
of human passions, and I make thee not out,--no, not so much as a word.
Thy flesh warms and chills, thine eye swims and flashes, thy brow bends,
thy lip curls, thy breast heaves, thy frame trembles; and yet art thou
more than mortal, or less. When shall I understand thee?"

"When thou canst look to heaven, and say, 'I have done no wrong'--No,
no! not to heaven; for what child of earth can look thitherward, and
unveil the actions of life?--When thou canst lay thy hand upon thy
bosom, and appealing, not to divine justice, but to that of human
reason, say, 'What I do is just:'--in other words, _never_. You are
surprised: you bade me repeat my words: I do:--'It is _not_ just, it is
_not_ expedient, and Juan Lerma shall _not_ die!'"

"Now by my conscience!" said Cortes, "this is the true dog-star madness!
Wert thou not behind the curtain, and didst thou not shriek at sight of
him? Mystery that thou art, unveil thyself--Wherefore tarriest thou in
this land, suspected, scorned, degraded, if not to have vengeance on
him? Wherefore, I say, wherefore?"

"To _save_ him," replied the lady, boldly,--"to save him from the fury
that has brought thee to the level of the Alguazil. Else had I long
since returned to the islands. Revoke therefore thy commission, and, in
any way thou wilt, so that it carry with it neither secret malice nor
open insult, contrive to discharge him from thy service. His life is
charmed--it is in my keeping."

"Oho!" said the Captain-General, surveying La Monjonaza with an exulting
sneer; "sits the wind in that quarter? And thou art but a woman after
all! Now was I but a fool, I trow, not to bethink me how the wife of
Uriah forgot the death of her husband, when she saw a path open to the
arms of his murderer. Is it so indeed? Thou hast fallen from admiration
to pity."

"She who withstands evil thoughts and maligning words, will not weep
even at the contempt of commiseration," said Magdalena, with a sigh.

"Villafana has then deceived me,--or rather, poor fool, has deceived
himself, as is more natural," said Cortes, with a malicious grin. "Never
believe me, but thou shalt rule me in this matter, as in others. Juan
Lerma shall thank thee for his life, even for the sake of the Maid of
Mexico,--thy brown rival, Zelahualla."

As he spoke thus, he watched closely the effect of his words on
Magdalena, and beheld a sudden fire light up in her eyes, succeeded by
such paleness as had always covered her visage, when he referred to the
death of Hilario. Nevertheless, she did not avert her glance, nor
exhibit any other manifestation of feeling, except that she replied not
a single word.

"It is the truth that I tell thee," he muttered in a low voice, taking
up, as if in compassion, her hand, which was yielded passively, and was
again cold and dewy; "she is very lovely,--very,--and a king's daughter.
He fought for her love with Guzman. So, perhaps, he fought Hilario for
thine. By my conscience! he makes love over blood-thirstily! When I
spoke to him of Zelahualla,--nay, I mentioned not her name; I spoke only
of his friends in the palace of Mexico--yet the colour flushed over his
cheeks. Nevertheless, thou shalt rule me; thou shalt have time for
consideration: the expedition to Tochtepec can be delayed. Dost thou
think he would have consented to be mine envoy to Tenochtitlan, but for
the hope of seeing his princess? I could tell thee another thing--(there
are more rivals than one)--but it matters not,--it matters not! Thou
wilt not be content with--pity!--Arouse thee, and speak.--Art thou
marble?"

At this moment, and while it seemed indeed that the unhappy Monjonaza,
notwithstanding that her countenance was still inexpressively placid,
had been turned to stone, the curtain of the great door, or principal
entrance, was drawn aside, and the cavalier Don Francisco de Guzman
strode hastily into the apartment. The sound of his footsteps, more than
the warning gesture of Cortes, recalled her to her senses. She raised
her hand to her brow, and the long hood falling over her countenance,
she turned to depart through the door by which she had entered. The
evening was already closing fast, and the shadowy obscurity of the
chamber perhaps concealed her from the eyes of the intruder.
Nevertheless, Cortes perceived, as she glided away, that her step was
altered and tottering, and that her hands fumbled for a moment at the
door curtain, as if she knew not how to remove it. It yielded, however,
at last, and she vanished from his eyes.

"Poor fool," he muttered, with a feeling divided between scorn, anger,
and pity, "thou hast discovered to me the broken postern of thy spirit:
the walls are strong, but the citadel is in ruins. This is somewhat
marvellous,--I will know more of it. It is a new and another thing to be
remembered.--Come, amigo: it is over dark here for thy business. We will
walk in the open air."

So saying, he took Guzman's arm, and departed from the chamber.




CHAPTER IX.


Some two hours or more after he had been discharged from the presence of
the Captain-General, Juan Lerma sat musing in one of the many hundred
chambers which composed the vast extent of the palace of Nezahualcojotl,
a different being from that the reader beheld him returning from exile.
The coarse _tilmaltli_, or native cloak, and the barbarous tunic, had
been exchanged for raiment of a better material and fashion, a part of
which,--the _bragas_ and _xaqueta_, at least--were from the wardrobe of
the general, while modesty, or reluctance to accept any further of such
assistance than was absolutely necessary, had induced him to substitute
for the plain but costly _capa_, or mantle, of velvet, the long surcoat
of black cloth, very richly embroidered, which had, as he was told,
accompanied the suit of armour, sent by his unknown friend. This
valuable and well-timed gift lay upon a platform beside his matted and
canopied couch, shining brilliantly in the light which a waxen candle
diffused throughout the apartment. He sat upon a native stool, carved of
a solid block of wood, and his fine countenance and majestic figure,
besides the advantages they received from becoming garments, appeared
even of a more elevated beauty, when seen by this solitary ray.

His only companion was the dog Befo, whose shaggy coat, yet gleaming
with moisture, betrayed that he had shared with the young man his
evening bath in the lake. The attachment of this beast was much more
natural than remarkable. Five years before, when Juan was but a boy in
Santo Domingo, Befo had been his playmate and companion;--had followed
him to Cuba, when the youth began to weary of dependence, and long for a
life of activity and distinction; and was finally presented by the
grateful adventurer to Cortes, as the only gift in his power to bestow;
for, at that time, saving his youth, health, and good spirits, Befo made
up the sum of his worldly possessions. In the change of masters,
however, Befo did not trouble himself to acquiesce; nor did he perceive
any necessity, while treating Cortes with all surly good-will and
respect, to abate a jot of his love for the hand which had first
sustained and caressed him. The dog is the only animal that shows
disinclination to be transferred from one master to another. The horse
cares not, the ox submits, and man makes no opposition. The dog has a
will of his own, and acknowledges no change of servitude, until
conscious of a change of affection.

The stirring and harassing events of the day, though they had exhausted
the spirit of the youth, had yet brought with exhaustion that nervous
irritableness which drives away slumber from the eyes of the over-weary.
Twice or thrice, Juan had flung himself on the couch to repose, but in
vain; and as he now sat questioning himself how far the substitution of
soft mats and robes for a bed of earth, might account for his inability
to sleep, he began to revolve in his mind, for the twentieth time, his
change of fortunes, and wonder at the inauspicious, and, as it seemed to
him, unnatural sadness, which oppressed his spirits.

"I have been restored," he muttered, half aloud,--and, as he spoke,
Befo, roused by the accents from the floor, thrust his rough head over
his knees, to testify his attention,--"I have been restored to favour,
and, in great part, to the friendship of the General.--Thou whinest,
Befo! I would I could read the heart of a man as clearly as thine.--Yet
has he not distinguished me with a high command,--a captain's? I trow,
it is not every one who can so soon step into this dignity, especially
when without the recommendation of birth, as Alvarado hinted.--I will
show this proud cavalier, that God does not confine all merit to
hidalgos' sons. If he give me but a capable force--Twenty foot and six
horse?--'tis but a weak array for a field where eighty men have
perished. Yet I care not: if I have but Xicotencal to back me, with some
two or three _xiquipils_[9] of his Tlascalans, it will be enough. If I
fall,--perhaps _that_ will be better: I am too faint-hearted for these
wars. Villafana says, that he brands the prisoners too, and sells them
for slaves. This is surely unjust--He was another man at Cuba."

[Footnote 9: _Xiquipil_--a military division of natives, consisting of
eight thousand men.]

At this moment, the dog raised his head and growled, and Juan heard
steps approaching through the long passage, that ran by his door. Here
they stopped, and Befo continuing to give utterance to his displeasure,
the voice of Villafana whispered through the curtain,

"Put thy hand on the beast's neck, or box him o' the ears--He is no
friend of mine."

"Enter," said Juan, "if thou art seeking me. He will do thee no harm."

"Ay, marry," said Villafana, coming in; "for at the worst, and when
other things fail, I will stop him with my dudgeon, be he Cortes's,
thine, or any one's else. It stirs my choler to be growled at by so base
a thing as a dog."

"Put up thy weapon, nevertheless," said Juan, observing that Villafana
had a poniard in his hand; "thou seest, the dog is quiet. In this he
pays me the compliment of supposing I can protect myself. What is thy
will with me, Villafana?"

"First," said the Alguazil, with a laugh, "to give thee my
congratulations touching thy sudden rise from the abyss, and thy
meditated flight heaven-ward. And, secondly," he continued, when Juan
had nodded his thanks, "to ask, in the way of friendship, from how high
a cliff thou canst tumble headlong, without danger of breaking thy
neck?"

"This is but a silly question, friendly though it may be," replied Juan.

"Oh, señor," said Villafana, "you must remember, the first night we
slept with the army, at the base of El Volcan, the mighty Popocatepetl,
how much we admired the great stones, that the devils therein flung up
against the stars! You nod again: good luck to your recollections! Did
you observe any one of those ignited masses stick against the vault, and
there hang among the luminaries?"

"Surely not," said Juan; "those that fell not immediately back into the
crater, rolled down among the snows on the mountain-side, and were there
extinguished."

"Very well, señor--When you are mounted, you can remember the
fire-stones, and make your choice whether to tumble back into the fire
of wrath, that now sends you upward, or to quench yourself for ever in
the frozen bed of degradation.--You go to Tochtepec?"

"I do," said Juan, somewhat angrily; "and I warn thee, thy malicious
metaphors will not make me less grateful for the kindness that sends
me."

"God rest you--it were better you had accepted the embassy to
Guatimozin."

"Hah!" said Juan, "how knowest thou of this? It was spoken only in
secret council?"

"Oh," said Villafana, with a second laugh, "if thou wilt but scratch on
one end of a long log, be sure I will hear it at the other. There is
something more in the world than magic."

He spoke with marked exultation; indeed Juan had already observed that
his carriage was freer and bolder than common, and that he bore himself
like a man who cares not wholly to conceal a triumph of spirit, which he
thinks it not needful altogether to divulge.

"Harkee, señor Don Juan," he went on, abruptly and inquisitively, "thou
art good friends with Xicotencal?"

"So far as a Christian man can be with one, who, though a very noble
being, is yet a misbeliever."

"And thou wert sworn friends, at Mexico, with the young prince,
Guatimozin?"

"Not so," said Juan: "the young man kept aloof from us all, being of the
hostile party; and there was scarce one of us who had ever seen his
face. I must confess, however, if I can believe Techeechee, that my
preservation in the expedition was owing to his good act; for Techeechee
avers, that it was through Guatimozin's good will that he was sent with
me, to secure me from the death which was designed for all the rest of
the party."

"Designed? dost thou allow it then?" cried the Alguazil, quickly.

"Ay," replied Juan, dryly; "designed by the Mexican lords, but not by
Christian leaders."

"And art thou not sorry thou wert not despatched to him as envoy?"

"Why need we talk of this?" said Juan, hesitating. "Guatimozin the king,
may be different from Guatimozin the prince."

"He is not _yet_ the king," said Villafana. "He will not be crowned till
the day of the great war-festival, and not then, unless he can furnish a
Spaniard for the sacrifice. I'faith, he loves not the blood of his red
neighbours."

"Villafana," said Juan, struck with certain uneasy suspicions, "thou
seemest better acquainted with these things than becomes a true follower
of Don Hernan."

"Not a whit, not a whit," cried the Alguazil, hastily: "this is but the
common talk,--the common talk, señor; and I am but a fool to indulge in
it, to the prejudice of other business more urgent. Come, señor,--will
you walk in the garden? There is a friend to speak with you."

"What friend?" said Juan.--"Villafana, I half suspect you are engaged in
some foul work. I will have naught to do with it."

"Lo you now," said the Alguazil, impatiently; "this is wild work. Do you
think I will assassinate you? Ho! this is a thing thy best friend would
entrust to another. Come, señor;--you have your rapier,--you can take
your casque, too, if you have any fear. It is a friend, who has that to
say which it concerns your life to know. You know not your danger. God
be with you, and your blood be upon your own head! If you refuse, you
will not repent you:--no, faith--you will not have time left for
lamentation.--Farewell, señor,--"

"Stay, Villafana," exclaimed Juan, much disturbed: "Friend or foe,--it
is not that which stays me, but the fear of being entrapped into
something more to be dreaded than death. Thou art a schemer; it is thy
nature: I will have nothing to do with thy plots, or with those who--"

"Pho! this concerns thyself alone, not me. My only plot is to help one
who desires to drag thee out of the fire thou art so bent to burn in. I
take you to your friend, and depart: I have other things to occupy me. I
am but a messenger. Will you go? I must give you a token then.--You have
not forgotten Hilario?"

At these words, muttered under breath, Juan started and turned pale,
exclaiming, "Saints and angels! and heaven forbid! Mine ears did not
then deceive me? Oh wo to us all! Alas for thine ill news! Have I not
pain enough of mine own?"

As he spoke, with a trembling voice, Villafana handed him his cap and
sword, saying, as he put into his hand the latter, which was a light
rapier,

"A good blade! and has hung at Don Hernan's girdle.--Leave the dog
behind: he will but set up his cursed growling, and so bring upon you
some one who may not relish the meeting."

"It is true, then?" cried Juan, with tones and aspect of the greatest
distress: "So fair, so young, so noble, so fallen!"

"Back, cur! thick-lips! Befo!" cried the Alguazil, as the two left the
chamber.--"He grumbles at me, as if to say _Ehem_, with disdain. Command
him thyself: he is a superfluous companion."

The young man waved his hand to Befo; at which signal Befo threw himself
upon his haunches, looking after Juan till he beheld him issue from the
long passage into the open air. Then rising, with the air of a servant
who understands his duty much better even than his master, he followed
slowly after the pair into the garden.




CHAPTER X.


The royal garden of Tezcuco was an extensive piece of ground, fenced, on
three sides, by the palace and its dependencies, and bounded on the
fourth, by the waters of the lake, from which it was divided by a low
wall, long since broken down by the Conquerors, by certain shadowy
buildings, and by clumps of noble cypresses and other trees. The moon,
not yet near her full, shone westward of the meridian, in a sky
intensely azure and almost cloudless; and her beams could be traced,
through the wall of cypresses, glittering and dancing on the light
waves, as they rippled up merrily to the night-breeze. What taste was
displayed in the plan and cultivation of the garden, could not be
determined, at this hour, and in this insufficient, though beautiful,
light. One could behold, indeed, obscurely, flower-beds and shrubberies,
winding alleys and hanging groves, little still pools and even, here and
there, a jetting fountain, scattered about in a manner which the
imagination might believe was designed and judicious; but it seemed, at
night, rather a wilderness, in which the nostrils had greater reason to
be gratified than the eyes. A thousand odours fell from the trees, a
thousand scents rose from the flowers, as the heads of the one and the
petals of the other were shaken by the flitting gusts. It was a scene
calculated at least to soothe exasperated feelings, and induce sentiment
and melancholy in the breast of the contemplative.

To Juan's temperament, it would have been, at any other moment,
saddening enough; but his thoughts were, at present, far too much, and
far too painfully, engaged, to permit any to be wasted upon it.

As he followed hastily at the heels of the Alguazil, he made one or two
agitated attempts to draw from him some further tokens to remove or
confirm his boding suspicions; but the Alguazil had on the sudden grown
very cautiously or very maliciously silent, and answered only by
pressing his finger on his lips, eyeing the youth significantly, and
hurrying him more rapidly along.

He led him to a spot, almost in the centre of the garden, where a little
oval-shaped pool lay embosomed among schinus-trees, whose long weeping
branches, stirred by the wind, swept gracefully over and in the water,
which was only agitated, when thus disturbed by the motion of a bough,
or by the plunge of the fragrant berries, the harvest of a former year,
which dropped at intervals from the cluster. A single moonbeam found its
way into this solitary inclosure, falling upon a limited portion of a
path which seemed to surround the pool. In other respects, all was dark
and invisible, and not a ray could be seen on the water, save when the
spectator, peering over the brink, beheld some faint star of the zenith
glimmering down among the shadowy depths.

Upon this path, and in this moonbeam, the Alguazil paused, and pointing
hastily to a nook--the darkest of all where all were dark,--Juan
perceived obscurely what seemed a moving figure. The next moment,
Villafana passed among the boughs, retracing his steps, and strode again
into the moonlight. As he stood an instant shaking the dew-drops from
his cloak, he beheld a dark object approaching slowly on the path. It
was the faithful Befo, who, with his head to the ground, and his tail
draggling in the grass, as if sensible of having committed a breach of
discipline, yet crawled along after his master, under the irresistible
instinct of fidelity.

"This is ill thought on, and may be unlucky," muttered Villafana, with a
subdued voice. "Here, Befo! you rascal! come with me, and you shall have
a bone.--Ay, thou ill devil!" he continued, in the same whispered tones,
as Befo, without stirring to the right or the left, and merely showing
his teeth, when the Alguazil seemed disposed to check him with his hand,
passed on towards the grove,--"go thy ways, and growl as thou wilt: thou
art the only thing in the land incorruptible. But thou wilt be
acquainted with my dagger yet, if thou hast no better appetite for my
dinner."

He resumed his path. He had not taken a dozen steps, before he became
sensible of the approach of another intruder: but this time the intruder
was human. There was something in the fashion and sweep of the garments,
which, even at a distance, apprized him of the character of the comer.

"The devil take these prying priests, monks, friars, and all!" he
muttered irreverently betwixt his teeth.--"Holy father,----Hah! by the
mass, is it thou, Camarga! my brother of all orders, monkish, mendicant,
martial, and so on? Thy masking goes the wrong way: I told thee to meet
me at the prison. 'Tis my palace, man; and the princes are in
waiting.--Come, these damp mazes are ill for thy years and diseased
liver. We will walk together."

"Señor Gruñidor, as they call you," said Camarga, flinging back the
white cowl, and revealing his sallow features in the moonshine, "señor
Alguazil, carcelero, rogue, conspirator, devil, and what-not, how I came
to be so deep among your damnable devices, in the short month I have
been in this land, I know not, except that I have, like thyself, a
greater aptitude to be groping among caverns than journeying on kings'
highways. But know, sirrah, that besides _thy_ subtleties, I have some
whimseys of my own; to which, when the wind stirs them, yours must give
place, were they ten thousand times more magnificent than your wit
strives to make them appear. Begone, therefore; get thee to thy scurvy
Tlascalan, whom thou art training to the gallows; to thy Mexican
Magnifico, who is an ass to trust his neck to thy keeping; and to what
vagabond Christians will give thee their countenance, who are e'en
greater fools than thyself, and the Indians together. Get thee away: I
have business of mine own; and I will come to you when it is despatched,
or I will _not_ come,--just as the imp urges me. So away with you, and
leave me to myself."

"Under your favour, no," said Villafana, apparently too well acquainted
with the man to be much surprised at a tone and manner so unlike to
those which Camarga had used at the cypress-tree: "I must e'en have your
saintly cowl and leaden cross, to swear the two infidels together:
otherwise there is no trusting them.--They have much superstitious
reverence for our priests and ceremonies. Come, señor; I tell thee, the
Mexican will make our fortunes."

"Thine, rogue, _thine_!" said the disguised Camarga, impatiently: "Why
talkest thou to me in this stupid wise? I am an older villain than
thou.--I have a fancy for this lad of the Anakim, this thick-witted,
turtle-brained young Magog. Thou makest a mystery of him, too. 'Slid! I
will penetrate it; for I have a use to make of him, as well as thou."

"Demonios!" said Villafana; "are you seeking Juan Lerma?"

"Ay, marry. I dogged thee hitherward, I saw thee hide him in the bush,
and by St. Dominic, (who will fry my soul to cinders, for defiling his
garments--_peccavi_!) I will know what's i' the wind betwixt you, ere I
stir a step further in your counsels. Dost thou think I will be thine
accomplice, and have anything hidden from me? Thou swearest, he is to be
murdered to-morrow, too. There is no time to be lost."

"Thou art mad," said Villafana: "he is engaged on our business. I make
no mystery; I will tell you all. It is well I met thee. He has
company,--a good sword,--and would think no more of lunging through thy
holy lion's skin, if he caught thee eavesdropping--"

"Hark! dost thou not hear tuck and corselet?" said Camarga, smiling
grimly, and rattling the hilt of a sword against his concealed armour.
"I must know his companion too. I tell thee, I will have all thy
secrets, or I drop thee, perhaps denounce thee."

"Thou shalt have them," said Villafana, gradually drawing him further
from the pool. "His companion is La Monjonaza."

"Ha! sits the wind there? I must have a peep at her: they say, she is
lovely as a goddess."

"Thou wilt incense her," said Villafana, emphatically. "By heaven, thou
knowest not the temper of this woman, which is deadly. Leave the two
cooing fools to themselves. Our fortunes,--nay, faith, our lives, depend
upon them. La Monjonaza is deep in our secrets,--"

"Knave!" muttered the pretended friar, in a low but furious voice, "hast
thou trusted my life in the keeping of a woman?"

"Pho, she is an older conspirator than thou; a wiser, too, for she can
keep her temper. Out of her love for the young man, we draw our truest
safety and quickest success."

"Her love! oh fu! and is she of this corrupt fickleness, that she will
have two lovers in one hour? But it is the way with these creatures!"

"They are old lovers, very old lovers, señor," said Villafana,
endeavouring, as he spoke, but in vain, to quicken the steps of Camarga.
"You shall hear the story.--Juan Lerma's father was some low, poor, base
fellow, killed in some tumult at Isabela. The old hidalgo, Antonio del
Milagro, took the boy out of charity, first as a servant--"

"A servant? Dios mio!--Is he of no better beginning?"

"Not a jot; but the old fellow liked him, and, in the end, treated him
full as well as his own son,--a knavish lad, called Hilario, some two or
three years older than Juan."

"Slife!" said Camarga, "tell me no granddam's tale, with all tedious
particulars. How came the youth into the hands of Cortes?"

"Even by setting out to seek his fortune, somewhat early, and getting to
Santiago, where Cortes took him into keeping. You heard us say, that Don
Hernan, when he received his commission from Velasquez, sent Juan back
to his native island, to recruit forces. It was natural he should visit
his old friends at Isabela. It was here he met with, and quarrelled
about, Magdalena--"

"Magdalena!" said Camarga, with surprise. "You swore her name was
Infeliz!"

"Ay; but the true one is Magdalena. When she came from Spain--"

"From Spain!" cried Camarga, starting: "is she not an islander?"

"Pho! didst thou ever see a creature of her beauty, born out of
Andalusia?"

"I have not seen her--but I will,--yes, by all the saints of heaven, I
will,--I must.--How came she to the island?"

"Oh, a-horseback, I think," said Villafana; "for the ship was never seen
at Isabela: never question about that. The two young dogs, Hilario and
Juan, found her somewhere, brought her to old Milagro, and, Juan being
more favoured and better beloved than Hilario, who, to say truth, was
both ugly and vicious, they fought about her, and Hilario was killed.
Thus, Juan was left the master of the beauty; but being tired of her, or
afraid of old Milagro's vengeance, or perhaps both, he fled again to
Cuba, and thence as you heard, came to Mexico in a fusta. What brought
Magdalena after him I know not, unless 'twas mad, raging love; yes,
faith, that's the cause; for she cares not half so much for Don Hernan.
But they did say, at Isabela, she had a better cause; for the ship, it
was well known--"

"Fool of all fools!" said Camarga, with a strange and unnatural laugh,
"didst thou not say the ship was never seen at Isabela?"

"Ay, truly; but it was seen on the rocks at the Point of Alonso, not
many leagues distant," replied Villafana; and then added, "I would thou
couldst be more choice of thine epithets of endearment. These 'knaves,'
'rogues,' and 'fools,' do well enough among friends; but one may season
discourse too strongly with them, even for the roughest appetite.--The
ship was a wreck: there was said to be foul work about it; but that's
neither here nor there. The girl was brought ashore by the young men,
Juan being good in the management of a skiff,--indeed, a notoriously
skilful and fearless sailor. What was said of Magdalena, was this,"
continued the Alguazil, with a low, confidential voice: "It was
discovered, or at least conjectured, that the ship was no other than the
Santa Anonciacion, a vessel sent from Seville with a bevy of
nuns,--faith, some worshippers of thine own good St. Dominic,--who were
to found a convent at the Havana. It was whispered, that the fair
Magdalena was even one of the number, and therefore--But the thing must
be plain! To be a nun, and to love young fellows _par amours_--this is a
matter for the Inquisition. But thanks be to God, we have no good
Brothers in Mexico!--I will tell thee more, as we walk, and show thee,
if thou hast not the wit to see it, how much it concerns us to have a
friend like La Monjonaza."

"I have heard enough," said Camarga, with tones deep and hoarse;
"enough, and more than enough. And this woman was, _then_, the leman of
Juan Lerma, and, now, the creature of Cortes!"--Here he muttered
something to himself. Then, speaking with an audible voice, he said,

"Get thee to thy den, and look to thyself: there is danger afloat, and
full enough to excuse me from meddling with thee to-night. There is a
force of men concealed near to the prison, and commanded by Guzman. Ask
no questions--look to thyself: thou art suspected."

At these words, Villafana became greatly alarmed, and exchanging but a
few words more with Camarga, hastily departed. He was no sooner gone,
than Camarga, yielding to an emotion he had long suppressed, fell upon
his knees and uttered wild prayers, mingled with groans and
maledictions, all the while beating his breast and brows. Then rising
and whipping out his sword, as if to execute some deadly purpose of
vengeance, he strode towards the pool.




CHAPTER XI.


No sooner had the Alguazil departed from the enclosure, than the figure
which Juan had beheld obscurely among the shadows, stepped slowly into
the moonshine, looking like a phantom, because so closely shrouded from
head to foot that nothing was seen but the similitude of a human being,
wrapped, as it might be imagined, in a gray winding-sheet. The thick
hood and veil concealed her countenance, and even her hands were hidden
among the folds.

It seemed, for a moment, as if she were about to speak, for low murmurs
came inarticulately from the veil. As for Juan himself, he was kept
silent by the most painful agitation. At last, and when it appeared as
if the unhappy being was conscious that no other mode of revealment was
in her power, she raised her hand to her head, and the next moment, the
hood falling back, the moonbeams fell upon the exposed visage of La
Monjonaza. It was exceedingly, indeed deadly, pale; and the gleaming of
her dewy forehead indicated how feebly even her powerful strength of
mind contended with a sense of humiliation. She made an effort to
elevate her head, to compose her features into womanly dignity, but all
in vain; her hands sought each other, and were clasped together upon her
breast, her lips quivered, her head fell, and her eyes, after one wild,
brief, and supplicating glance, were cast upon the earth.

"Alas, Magdalena!" exclaimed Juan, with tones of the deepest feeling,
"do I see you here, do I see you _thus_?"

At these words she raised her head, with a sudden and convulsive start,
as if the imputation they conveyed had stung her to the soul; and as she
bent her eyes upon Juan, though they were filled with tears, yet they
flashed with what seemed a noble indignation. But this was soon changed
to a milder and sadder expression, and the flush which had accompanied
it, was quickly replaced by her former paleness.

"Thou dost indeed see me here," she replied, summoning her resolution,
and speaking firmly, "and thou seest me thus,--degraded, not in thine
imagination only, but in the suspicions of all, down to the level of
scorn. Yes," she continued, bitterly, "and while thou pitiest me for a
shame endured only for thyself,--endured only that I may requite thee
with life for life,--thou art sorry thy hand ever snatched me from the
billows. Speak, Juan Lerma, is it not so?"

"It had been better, Magdalena," said the youth, reproachfully, "for,
besides that the act caused me to be stained with blood, it afflicts me
with a curse still more heavy. I do not mourn the death of Hilario, as I
mourn the downfall of one whom I once esteemed almost a seraph."

"Villain that he was!" cried Magdalena, with vindictive impetuosity,
"mean and malignant in life and in death! who, with a lie, living,
destroyed the peace and the fame of the friendless, and died with a lie,
that both might remain blighted for ever! O wretch! O wretch! there is
no punishment for him among the fiends, for he was of their nature. And
thou mournest his death, too! Thou cursest the hand that avenged the
wrong of a feeble woman!"

"I lament that I slew the son of my benefactor," said Juan, with a deep
sigh; and then added with one still deeper, "but, sinner that I am, I
rejoice while looking on thee, in the fierce thought, that I killed the
destroyer of innocence."

"The destroyer of innocence indeed," replied Magdalena, with a voice
broken and suffocating. "Yes, innocence!" she exclaimed more wildly, "or
at least, the _fame_ of innocence! for innocence herself he could not
harm. No, by heaven! oh, no! for what I came from the sea, that I am
_now_; yes, now, I tell thee, now! and if thou darest give tongue to
aught else, if thou darest think--Oh heaven! this is more than I can
bear! Say, Juan Lerma! say! dost _thou_, too, believe me the thing I am
called? the base, the fallen, the degraded?"

"Alas, Magdalena," replied Juan, to the wild demand: "with his dying
lips, Hilario----"

"With his dying lips, he perjured his soul for ever!" exclaimed
Magdalena, "for ever, for ever!" she went on, with inexpressible energy
and fury; "and may the curse of a broken-hearted woman, destroyed by his
defaming malice, cling to him as long, scorching him with fresh
torments, even when fiends grow relentful and forbearing. Mountains of
fire requite the coals he has thrown upon my bosom! May God never
forgive him! no, never! never!"

"This is horrid!" said Juan. "Revoke thy malediction: it is impiety.
Alas, alas!" he continued, moved with compassion, as the singular being,
passing at once from a sibyl-like rage to the deepest and most feminine
abasement of grief, wrung her hands, and sobbed aloud and bitterly;
"Would indeed that thou hadst perished with the others!"

"Would that I had!" said Magdalena, more calmly; "but thou hadst then
been left to a malice like that which has slain me.--No, not like that;
for it is content with thy _life_!--I would ask thee more of myself,"
she went on, more composedly, after a little pause, "but it needs not.
If I can show thee thou wrongest me concerning Hilario, canst thou not
believe I may be even _here_ without stain? Well, I care not; one day,
thou wilt know thou hast wronged me. But let the shame rest upon me now;
for it needs I should think, not of myself, but of thee. Listen to me,
Juan Lerma; for fallen or not, yet am I thine only friend among a
thousand enemies. Give up thy service, thy hopes of fame and fortune in
this land, and leave it. Leave Mexico, return to the islands. Thou hast
marvellously escaped a death, subtly and cruelly designed; and now thou
art destined to an end as vengeful, and perhaps even more inevitable.
Yet there is one way of escape, and there is one moment to take
advantage of it. Leave Mexico: Cortes is thy foe.--Leave Mexico."

"These are but wild words, Magdalena," said Juan, with a troubled voice.
"I would do much to remove _thee_ from a situation, the thought whereof
is bitterer to me than my own misfortunes."

"Wouldst thou?" said Magdalena, eagerly. "Go then, and I go likewise; go
then, and know that thy departure not only releases me from a situation
of disgrace, but enables me to make clear a reputation which thou--yes,
_thou_,--believest to be sullied and lost. I am not what I seem--Saints
of heaven, that I should have to say it! But by the grave of my mother,
I swear, Juan Lerma, thou doest me as deep a wrong as others. Leave this
land, and thou shalt see that the fame of an angel is not purer than
mine own scorned name,--no, by heaven, no freer from a deserved shame.
Thou shakest thy head!--I could kill thee, Juan Lerma, I could kill
thee!"--she went on, with a strange mingling of fierce resentment and
beseeching grief; "I could kill thee, for I have not deserved this of
thee!" Then, changing her tone, and clasping her hands submissively, she
said, "But think not of me, or rather continue to think me unworthy of
aught but pity: think not, above all, that what I do is with any
reference to myself. No, heaven is my witness, I claim of thee neither
affection nor respect; I am content to be mistaken, to be despised. All
this I can endure, and will, uncomplaining,--so that I can rescue thee
from the danger in which thou art placed. Leave this land: Don Hernan
deceives thee; he hates thee, and thirsts after thy blood. He has
confessed it!"

"God be my help!" said Juan, despairingly; "my life is in his hands. If
this be true--"

"If it be true!" repeated Magdalena: "It is known to all but thyself."

"It is _not_ true!" exclaimed the young man, vehemently: "I have done
him no wrong, and he is not the detestable being you would make him. If
he be, I owe him a life--let him have it; it is in his hands."

"Leave Mexico," reiterated Magdalena. "If thou goest to Tochtepec, thou
art lost. I have it in my power to aid,--nay, to secure thy escape. Say,
therefore, thou wilt consent, say thou wilt leave Mexico!"

"It cannot be," said Juan, with a sad and sullen resolution: "I will
await my fate in Mexico!"

"And wilt thou stand, like the fat ox, till the noose is cast upon thy
neck? till thou art butchered?"

"My life is nothing--I live not for myself; the redemption of others
depends upon my acts. I have a duty that speaks more urgently than fear.
My lot is cast in Mexico; I cannot leave it."

As he spoke, with a firm voice, he bent his looks expressively on his
companion. Her eyes flashed fire, and they shone from her pale face like
living coals:

"Sayst thou this to me?" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with fury,
"sayst thou this to me?" Then advancing a step, and laying her hand upon
his arm, she continued, her accents sinking almost into whispers, they
were so subdued, or so feeble, "Lay not upon thy soul a sin greater than
stains it already. Leave Mexico; resolve or die: leave Mexico, or
perish!--Oh, thou art guiltier than thou thinkest! Thou hast cursed
Hilario for my fall: curse thyself,--not Hilario, but thyself; for but
for thee, but for thee, I had been happy! yes, happy, happy!"

To these words, Juan, though greatly compassionating the distress of the
speaker, would have replied with remonstrance; but she gave him no
opportunity. She continued to repeat over and over again, with a kind of
hysterical pertinacity, the words 'Leave Mexico! leave Mexico!' so that
Juan was not only prevented replying, but confounded. He was relieved
from embarrassment by a sudden growl, coming from the bushes at his
side. La Monjonaza started at the sound, and in the moment of silence
that succeeded, both could distinguish the steps of a man rapidly
approaching the pool. At the same instant, another growl was heard, and
Befo, issuing from the leafy covert, took a stand by his master's side,
as if to defend him from an enemy. The veil of Magdalena fell over her
visage; she paused but to whisper, in tones of such energy that they
thrilled him to the soul, 'Leave Mexico, or die!' and then instantly
vanished among the boughs. It was too late for Juan to follow her: he
had scarce time to lay his hand upon Befo's neck and moderate his
ferocity, before his eyes were struck with the strange spectacle of a
tall man, in the garb of a Dominican friar, his face pale as death, his
hand holding a naked sword, who strode into the inclosure and upon that
part of the path which was illuminated by the moonbeams. No sooner had
he cast his eyes upon Juan than he exclaimed, "Die, wretch!" and made a
pass at him with his weapon. Had the lunge been skilfully made, it must
have proved fatal; for though Juan still held the sheathless rapier he
had brought from his chamber, he was so much surprised at the suddenness
of the apparition, that his attempt to ward it could not have succeeded
against a good fencer. A better protection was given by the faithful
Befo, who, darting from Juan's hand, against the assailant's breast,
attacked him with a shock so violent, that, in an instant, the señor
Camarga (for it was he who played this insane part) lay rolling upon his
back, his grizzled locks streaming in the pool.

"In the name of heaven, what dost thou mean, and who art thou, impostor
and assassin!" cried Juan, pulling off the dog, and helping Camarga to
his feet. "Thou art mad, I think!"

There was something in the man's countenance, as well as in the
murderous attempt, to confirm the idea; for Camarga's agitation was
singular and extreme, and he seemed unable to answer a word.

"Who art thou?" continued Juan angrily, impressed with the certainty
that he had seen the face of the assailant before, yet without knowing
when or where. "Confess thyself straight, or I will have thee to the
Alguazil, and see the friar's frock scourged from thy base body!"

However eager and foreboding the young man's curiosity, it was doomed to
be disappointed by a new interruption. While he yet spoke, he was
alarmed by a sudden discharge of firearms, followed by shrieks and
cries, at the bottom of the garden; and presently the whole solitude was
transformed into a scene of tumult and uproar. Lights were seen flashing
among the trees, and men were heard running confusedly to and fro,
calling to one another.

The last word had hardly parted from his lips, before the boughs crashed
on the opposite side of the pool, and a new actor was suddenly added to
the scene.




CHAPTER XII.


As the bushes parted, a tall figure sprang into the path, and running
round the pool, would instantly have been at the side of the two
Castilians, who were yet unobserved, had it not been that Befo, his
ferocity greatly whetted by his former encounter, darted forward as at
first, with a sudden roar, with equal violence, and with similar
success. As the stranger fell to the earth under an attack so impetuous
and unexpected, he uttered an exclamation in which Juan recognized the
language of Mexico. He ran forwards, guided by the growls of the beast
and the stifled cries of the man, (for the spot on which the two
contended was covered with impenetrable gloom,) and, by accident, caught
the stranger's arm, and felt that it wielded a heavy macana, now
uplifted against the animal. As his other hand was stretched forward,
again to remove the victorious Befo from a fallen antagonist, it fell
upon the naked breast of a barbarian.--In a moment more, he had torn the
dog away, and dragged the savage into the moonshine, where he had left
Camarga standing, but where Camarga stood no longer. He had fled away in
the confusion, unobserved, and now almost forgotten.

Here Juan released the captive from his powerful grasp, for his rapier
was in his hand, and the macana of the Mexican he had already cast into
the pool; and thus standing, confiding as much in the aid of Befo as in
the menacing attitude of his weapon, he began to address his prisoner.

"What art thou?" he demanded, in the tongue which, as he had boasted,
was almost as familiar to him as the language of Spain: "What art thou?
and what dost thou here?"

Instead of answering, the Mexican, gazing over his conqueror's shoulder,
seemed to survey, with looks of admiration and alarm, some spectacle
behind his back. Juan cast his eye in the direction thus indicated, and
beheld the visage of Magdalena, recalled by the tumult, gleaming hard
by. In an instant more, she had vanished, and he turned again to the
captive, who, when the vision, to him so inexplicable, had faded away,
now directed his attention to an object equally surprising and much more
formidable in his estimation than even the redoubtable Juan. As he
rolled his eyes, in mingled wonder, trepidation, and anger, on the huge
Befo, who now stood regarding him, writhing his lips and showing his
tusks, in the manner with which he was wont so expressively to intimate
his readiness to obey any signal of attack, Juan had full leisure to
observe that the Indian was a young man not above twenty-three or
twenty-four years old, of good and manly stature, and limbs nobly
proportioned. His only garments were a tunic and mantle of some
dark-coloured stuff, but little ornamented, the former extending from
the waist to the knees, the latter, knotted, as usual, about his throat,
but so disordered and torn by the teeth of the dog, as to leave the
upper part of his body nearly naked. His only defensive armour was a
little round buckler of the skin of the _danta_ or tapir, not exceeding
fourteen inches in diameter, strapped to his left arm. The loss of the
macana had left him without any offensive weapon. As he raised his head
at the second salutation of his capturer, he flung back the long masses
of black hair from his forehead, and displayed a visage, as well, at
least, as it could be seen in the moonlight, not unworthy his manly
person.

"Olin, the tongue of the Teuctli, is a prisoner."

As he pronounced these words, in his own language, signifying that he
was an orator of his high class, and that he confessed himself a
captive, he touched the earth with his hand and kissed it, in token of
submission. The tones of his voice caused Juan to start.

He dropped his sword-point, advanced nearer to him, and perused his
features with intense curiosity. His gaze was returned with a look of
equal surprise, which betrayed a touch of fear; for the Mexican at once
exclaimed, withdrawing a step backward,

"The Great Eagle fell among the archers of Matlatzinco!"

"The king is not wise--Guatimozin is in the hands of Cortes!" said Juan,
with deep earnestness.

"Olin is the orator--the king is wise," replied the Indian, hastily.

"It is in vain," said Juan. "Thou art Guatimozin! and a captive, too,
ere a blow has been struck, in the camp of thy foeman! Is this an end
for the king of Mexico?"

"Quauhtimozin can die: there are other kings for the free warriors of
Tenochtitlan," replied the young monarch, boldly and haughtily, avowing
his name,--which is here given in its original and genuine harshness,
that the reader may be made acquainted with it; though it is not
intended to substitute it for its more agreeable and familiar
corruption: "Guatimozin is a prisoner," he continued, with a firm voice
and lofty demeanour, "but the king of Mexico is free.--When did the
Great Eagle become the foe of Guatimozin?"

"I am not thy foe," replied Juan, "but thy friend; so far, at least, as
it becomes a Christian and Spaniard to be. I lament to see thee in this
place--I am not thy foe."

"Raise then thy weapon," said the prince, dropping his haughty manner
and ceremonious style, and speaking, as he laid his hand on Juan's arm,
with fierce emotion; "strike me through the neck, and cast my body into
the pool.--It is not fit that Guatimozin should wear the bonds of
Montezuma!"

It must not be supposed that this conversation took place in quiet.
During the whole time, on the contrary, the garden continued to resound
with the voices of men running from copse to copse, from alley to alley,
sometimes drawing nigh, and, at other moments, appearing to be removed
to the furthest limits of the grounds. At the moment when the Mexican
made his abrupt and insane appeal to the friendship of his capturer, a
party of Spaniards rushed by at so short a distance and with so much
clamour, that he had good reason to conceive himself almost already in
their hands. They passed by, however, and with them fled a portion of
Juan's embarrassment. As soon as he perceived they were beyond hearing,
he replied:

"This were to be thy foe indeed. But, oh, unwise and imprudent! what
tempted thee to this mad confidence?"

"The craft of Malintzin," replied the Mexican, making use of a name
which his people had long since attached to Cortes,--"the craft of
Malintzin, who ensnares his foe like the wild Ottomi, hidden among the
reeds;--he scatters the sweet berry on the lake, and steals upon the
feeding sheldrake; so steals Malintzin. He sends words of peace to the
foe afar; when the foe is asleep, Malintzin is a tiger!"

"And thou hast been deceived by these perfidious and unworthy arts?"
said Juan, the innuendoes of Villafana and the monitions of Magdalena,
recurring to his mind with painful force.

"Deceived and trapped!" replied the infidel, with fierce indignation;
"cajoled by lies, circumvented by treachery, seduced and betrayed!--Is
the Great Eagle like Malintzin?" As he spoke thus, sinking his voice,
which was indeed all the time cautiously subdued, he again laid his hand
on the young Christian's arm, and continued,

"Art thou such a man, and dost thou desire the blood of thy friend? What
shall be said to the little _Centzontli_, the mocking-bird? The little
Centzontli sang the song to Guatimozin, 'Let not the Great Eagle die in
the trap!' What sings she now? Does the Great Eagle listen to the little
Centzontli?"

"He does," replied Juan, on whom these metaphors, however mysterious
they may seem to the reader, produced a strong impression. "Thou art
_my_ prisoner, not Don Hernan's; and it rests with me to liberate or to
bind, not with him. Answer me, therefore, truly; for if thou hast been
trained by treachery into this present danger, coming with thoughts of
peace and composition, and not with an army, to surprise and slay, thou
shalt be made free, even though the act cost me my life."

"I come in peace: does the leader of an army walk bareheaded and naked?
My canoe lies hid among the reeds: my warriors are asleep on the island.
The Christian sent for a lord of the city, to give his hand to the angry
men of Tlascala. Guatimozin is not the king, but he brought them the
hand of the king.--It was the lie of Malintzin! I am betrayed!"

"If I suffer thee to depart," said Juan, anxiously, "canst thou make
good thy escape?"

"Is not Guatimozin a soldier?" replied the Mexican, with a gleaming eye.
"Give me a sword, and hold fast the Christian tiger."--

"Hark!--peace!" whispered Juan, drawing the prisoner suddenly among the
boughs: "we are beset. Hist, Befo, hist!"

With a degree of uneasiness, which approached almost to fear, when he
found that Befo, instead of following him into his concealment, remained
out upon the illuminated path, where he attracted notice, while
expressing fidelity, by setting up an audible growl, Juan heard a man
crash through the boughs on the further side of the pool, all the while
calling loudly and cheerily to his companions.

"Hither, knaves!" he cried; "the fox is in cover! Hither! quick,
hither!"

It was the voice of Guzman. He had caught the growl of the dog, and
responded with a shout of triumph, as he ran forward, closely followed
by three or four soldiers armed with spears;

"The bloodhound for ever! he has the fox in his mouth, I know by his
growling!--Hah, Befo, fool?" he continued, when he had reached the
animal; "art thou baying the moon then?--Pass on, pass on: no Indian
passes scotfree by Befo at midnight--Pass on, pass on!"

In a moment more, the nook was left to its solitude, and Juan
reappeared, with the prince. The sight and voice of Guzman had stirred
up his wrath, and he took his measures with a quicker and sterner
resolution.

"He protects and loves this man, who is a villain," he muttered through
his teeth. "There is nothing else left. Follow me prince: if we are
seen, thy fate is not more certain than mine--Follow me in silence."

The garden was still alive with men; they could be seen running about in
different directions, though the greatest numbers seemed to be collected
at the bottom, near to the lake side. It was not from this circumstance,
however, so much as from his ignorance of every portion of the grounds
except that by which he had approached the pool, that he bent his steps
towards the wing of the palace he had so lately left. He advanced
cautiously, taking advantage of every clump of trees, which could afford
concealment from any passing group; and once or twice, to allay
suspicion, adding his voice to those of the others, as if engaged in the
same duty; in which latter stratagem he was ably seconded by the
unconscious Befo, whose bark, excited by the shout of his master, was a
sufficient warrant to all within hearing, of the friendly character of
the party.

Thus assisted by the undesigned help of the dog, and by the imitative
caution of the Mexican, he succeeded in reaching the wing of the palace,
and the passage that led to his chamber, which was illumined by torches
of resinous wood. A door, leading to the open square that surrounded the
palace, opened opposite to that by which he entered from the garden. It
was his intention, if possible, to pass through this into the city, not
doubting that it would be easy to conceal the fugitive among the
thousand barbarians of his own colour and appearance, who yet thronged
the streets; after which, it would not perhaps be impracticable to find
some way to discharge him from the gates. But, unfortunately, as he
pressed towards it, he found the outer door beset by armed men,
thronging tumultuously in, as if to join their comrades in the garden.
There was nothing left him, then, but to seek his apartment, as hastily
as he could, and there conceal the Mexican until the heat of pursuit was
over. A motion of his hand apprized the fugitive of his change of
purpose, and Guatimozin, darting quickly forward, was already stealing
into the chamber, when a harsh voice suddenly bawled behind,

"Mutiny and miracles! here runs the rat with the viper! Treason,
treason!"

It was the hunchback Najara, whose quick eye detected the vanishing
hair, and who now ran forward in pursuit, followed by a confused throng
of soldiers, from among whom suddenly darted the cavalier Don Francisco
de Guzman.

Juan had reached the door. The cry of Najara assured him that he was
discovered; and conscious that his act of generosity was, or of right
ought to be, considered little better than sheer treason, the varied
passions of hope, grief, indignation and wrath, which had been, the
whole evening, chasing one another through his bosom, gave place at once
to the single feeling of despair. He felt that he was now lost.

At this very moment, while his brain was confused, and his heart dying
within him, a laugh sounded in his ear, and he heard, even above the
clamorous shouts of the soldiers, the voice of Guzman, exclaiming,

"What think'st thou _now_, señor? Art thou conquered?--Stand! I arrest
thee."

He turned; the cavalier was within reach of his arm, and the malignant
sneer was yet writhing over his visage. The words of scorn, the look of
exultation, were intolerable; the rapier was already naked in his hand,
and almost before he was himself aware of the act, it was aimed, with a
deadly lunge, at Don Francisco's throat.

"The deed has slain thee!" cried Guzman, leaping backwards, so as to
avoid a thrust too fiercely sudden to be parried, and then again rushing
forward, before he could be supported by the soldiers, who had also
recoiled at this show of resistance; "the act has slain thee; and so
take the fate thou art seeking!"

As he spoke, he advanced his weapon, which was before unsheathed,
against an adversary, whom the recollection of a thousand wrongs had
inflamed to frenzy, but who could scarcely be supposed to have retained,
during a year of servitude and suffering, the skill in arms, which once
made him an equal antagonist. Nevertheless, Guzman's pass was turned
aside, and returned with such interest, that, had the field been fair
and unincumbered, it is questionable how long he might have lived to
repeat it. As it was, the combat was cut short by the interposition of
the bloodhound, who, whining, at first, as if unwilling to attack a
cavalier so long and so well known as Don Francisco, and yet unable to
remain neuter, at last added his fierce yell to the clash of the
weapons, and decided the battle by springing against Guzman's breast. It
was perhaps fortunate for the cavalier that he did. He had a breastplate
on; and, for this reason, Juan aimed the few blows that were made, full
at his throat, with the fatal determination of one, who, hopeless of
life himself, had sworn a vow to his soul that his enemy should die. It
was but the third thrust he had made, (they had scarce occupied so many
seconds,) and it was directed with such irresistible skill and violence,
that the point of the weapon was already gliding through Guzman's beard
and razing his skin, when the weight of Befo's assault, for the third
time successful, hurled him from his feet, and thus saved his life, at
the expense of a severe gash made through his right cheek and ear.

The whole of this encounter, from the first attack to the fall of
Guzman, had not occupied the space of twenty seconds; and Don Francisco
was at the mercy of his rival, before even the rapid Najara could
advance a spear to protect him. It was not improbable that Juan would
have taken a deadly advantage of the mishap, for, as he had declared, in
a cooler moment, he hated Don Francisco, and his blood was now boiling.
If such, however, was his purpose, he was prevented putting it into
execution by another one of those opposing accidents, which seemed this
night, to pursue him with such unrelenting rigour.

Before he could advance a single step, a cavalier, bareheaded and
unarmed, save that he flourished a naked sword, sprang from the throng
of soldiers, followed by the señor Camarga, now without his masking
habit, the latter of whom cried with fierce emphasis, all the time,
"Kill him! cut him down! kill him!" until the soldiers caught up the
cry, and the whole passage echoed with their furious exclamations. These
served but the end of still further exasperating the choler of the young
man, thus beset as it seemed by the tyranny of numbers; and seeing the
bareheaded cavalier advancing against him, and already betwixt him and
his fallen rival, he turned upon him with fresh fury.

"Hah!" cried the new antagonist, when Juan's weapon clashed against his
own; "traitor! dost thou provoke thy fate?"

The words were not out of his lips, before Juan perceived that he had
raised his rapier against the bosom of Cortes. He beheld, in the
countenance which he had once loved, the scowl of an evil spirit, and
the fire flashing from the general's eyes, was no longer to be mistaken
for aught but the revelation of the deadliest hatred. He flung down his
sword, resisting no longer, and the next instant would have been run
through the body, but that Befo, fearing to attack, and yet unable to
resist the impulse of fidelity, sprang up, with a howl, and seized the
weapon with his teeth. Before Cortes could disengage it, and again turn
it upon the unfortunate youth, the Mexican fugitive glided from the
apartment, threw himself before the latter, and taking the point of the
weapon in his hand, placed it against his own naked breast. Then bowing
his head submissively, he stood in tranquillity, expecting his death.

At his sudden appearance, the soldiers set up a shout, and Cortes was
sufficiently diverted from his bloody purpose, to smooth his frowning
brow into an air of official sternness.

"Olin is the prisoner of the Teuctli," murmured the captive, in words
scarce understood by any one present, except Juan.

"Where bide mine Alguazils?" demanded the Captain-General, without
condescending to notice the Mexican any further than merely by removing
the rapier from his grasp. "Hah, Guzman! thou art hurt, art thou? By
heaven,"--But he checked the oath, when he observed that Guzman, already
on his feet, notwithstanding the frightful appearance that was given him
by the blood running down his cheek and neck, and drippling slowly from
his beard, replied to the exclamation with a smile of peculiar coolness:
"Get thee to a surgeon. Where bide the Alguazils? Is there no officer to
rid me of a traitor?"

"Señor General," said Juan, sullenly, "I am no traitor--"

He was interrupted by the appearance of two men, carrying batons, who
bustled from among the crowd, and laid hands upon him. The readiest and
the most officious was Villafana, who concealed a vast deal of agitation
under an air of extravagant zeal.

"Ha, Villafana! art thou found at last?" cried Don Hernan, with apparent
anger. "Hast thou no better care of thy ward on the water-side, but that
spies may come stealing into my garden?"

"May it please your excellency," said Villafana, recovering his wit, "I
was neither gambling nor asleep; but--'Slid, this is a pretty piece of
villany! Oho, señor mutineer, this is hanging-work?--Speak not a word,
as you love life."--This was spoken apart into Juan's ear.--"What is
your excellency's will, touching the prisoner?"

"Have him to prison, and see that he escape not."

These words were pronounced with a coolness and gravity that amazed all
who had witnessed the rage, which, but a moment before, had shaken the
frame of the Captain-General. "And you, ye idle fellows," he continued,
addressing the soldiers, "get you to your quarters, to your watch, or to
your beds. Begone.--Why loiter ye, Villafana? Conduct away the
prisoner."

Juan raised his eyes once more to the general, and seemed as if he would
have spoken; but, confused and bewildered by the extraordinary
termination of the drama of the day, chilled by frowns, oppressed by a
consciousness of having provoked his fate, his head sunk in a deep
dejection on his breast, and he suffered himself to be led silently
away.

A gleam of light, such as flares up at night from a decaying brand, just
lost in ashes, sprang up in the leader's eyes, as they followed the
steps of the unhappy youth, until, passing from that door, which he had
so vainly sought to gain with the Mexican, he vanished from sight. Its
lustre was hidden from all but the captive, who, maintaining throughout
the whole scene, the self-possession, characteristic of all the American
race, from the pygmies of the Frozen Sea to the giants of Patagonia, did
not lose the opportunity thus afforded, of diving into the thoughts of
the Invader.

As soon as Juan Lerma had departed, with the mass of the soldiers,
Cortes turned to the Mexican, and with a mild countenance, and a gentle
voice, which were designed to convey the proper interpretation of his
Castilian speech, said,

"Let my young friend, the Tlatoani, be at peace, and fear not; no harm
is designed him."

Then, making a signal to those who remained, to lead the captive after
him, he passed into the garden, and thence, by a private entrance, into
the hall of audience.




CHAPTER XIII.


It has been already mentioned, that the person of Guatimozin was
familiar to few, or none, of the Spaniards. Intensely and consistently
hostile to the invaders, from the first moment of their appearance in
the Valley, he had ever kept aloof from them, and was one of the few
princes of Mexico, whom neither force nor stratagem could reduce to
thraldom. His youth, indeed,--his want of authority, (for though of the
loftiest birth and the highest military fame, he enjoyed, at first, no
independent command or government,) and, hence, his apparent
insignificance,--had made the possession of his person of no great
consequence; and it was not until he was seen leading the incensed
citizens up against the guns of the garrison, and directing the assault
which terminated in the life of Montezuma, that he began to be
considered an enemy worthy to be feared. Even then, however, he was but
one among the warlike followers of Cuitlahuatzin,--the successor of
Montezuma,--and on the famous battle-field of Otumba, he fought only as
a second in command. But from that time until the present moment, his
name was constantly before the Spaniards, first as the king of
Iztapalapan, then as a leader among those royal warriors, sent forth by
Cuitlahuatzin, now to annoy the Spaniards, even among their fortresses
on the borders of Tlascala, and now to chastise those rebellious tribes
which were daily acknowledging allegiance to the Spaniard, and preparing
to march with him against Tenochtitlan.

The death of Cuitlahuatzin had suddenly exposed him to view as the
probable successor to the imperial dignity; and the act of the royal
electors, (the kings of Mexico were chosen by the crowned vassals of the
empire,) in bestowing the mantle and sceptre, had left nothing to be
done to confirm his authority, save a solemn inauguration on the day of
an august religious and national festival.

He had thus assumed the attitude which Montezuma had once preserved in
the eyes of the Conquistador; and it was as much the policy of Cortes to
attempt the acts of delusion with him, as it had been with his
predecessor. The craftier and haughtier Guatimozin had, however,
rejected his overtures with disdain; and, justly appreciating the
character and designs of his enemy, he prepared for war as the only
alternative of slavery. He had already concentrated in his city, and in
the neighbouring towns, the whole martial force of the tribes yet
valiant and faithful; he had laboured, with an address that was not
always ineffectual, to regain the false and rebellious; and, rising
above the weakness of national resentments, he had even striven to unite
his hereditary foes in a league of resistance against the stranger, who,
whether frowning or smiling, whether courting with friendship, or
subduing with arms, was yet, and equally, the enemy of all.

Enough has been said to explain the purpose for which he so rashly threw
himself into the power of the Conqueror. The certain assurance of
disaffection in the invader's camp, not only among the allies, but among
the Spaniards themselves, was enough to fire his heart with the desire
of employing against Don Hernan a weapon which his foe had used so
fatally against him; and, besides, the opportunity of detaching the
Tlascalans from the Spanish interest, was too captivating to be
rejected. These were advantages to be investigated and promoted by
himself, rather than by agents; and, confiding in his enemies' ignorance
of his person, in his cunning, and in the interested fidelity of
traitors, who had already grasped at bribes, and were eager to be better
acquainted with his bounty, he did not scruple to direct his midnight
skiff among the reeds on the lakeside, and, in the guise of a mere
noble, trust himself alone in their power.

If the reader desire to know what could induce any of the followers of
Cortes to treat thus perfidiously with the infidel enemy whose wealth
was promised as the certain guerdon of war, he may be answered almost in
a word. The _dangers_ of the war were manifold and obvious to all, and
the horrors of the five days' battles in the streets of Mexico, and more
than all, the calamities of the midnight retreat, had given such a
foretaste of what might be expected from a prosecution of the campaign,
that full half the army looked forward to it with equal terror and
repugnance. A majority of those who survived the Noche Triste, were
followers of the unfortunate Narvaez, and some of them yet friendly to
the deceived Velasquez. They remained with Cortes upon compulsion, and
they hated him not only for their inability to return to their peaceable
farms among the islands, for past calamities, and coming misfortunes,
but for the superior favours showered so liberally, and indeed so
naturally, upon those who had been his original, and were yet his
faithful, adherents. In a word, they regarded the reduction of the
Mexican empire as hopeless, and their own fate, if they remained, as
already written in characters of blood. The bolder scowled and
complained, the feeble and the crafty dissembled, but evil thoughts and
fierce resolutions were common to all. They burned to be released from
what was to them intolerable bondage, and the means were not to be
questioned, even though they might involve connivance and collusion with
the foe. But such collusion was by no means known, nor even suspected,
by any save the few desperadoes who had risen to the bad eminence of
leaders. Even Villafana was ignorant of the true character of his guest,
and esteemed him to be only what he represented himself,--Olin, the
young noble, an orator, counsellor, and confidential agent of
Guatimozin. It was not possible for the Captain-General to regard him in
any other light.

Whatever may have been the young monarch's thoughts, his secret
misgivings and self-reproaches, as he strode, closely environed by
cavaliers, into the great hall, now dimly lighted by tapers of vegetable
wax and torches of fragrant wood, they were exposed by no agitation of
countenance or hesitation of step; and when Cortes ascended the platform
to his seat, and turned his penetrating eye upon him, he preserved an
air of the most fearless tranquillity. For the space of several moments,
the general regarded him in silence; then commanding all to leave the
apartment, excepting Sandoval, Alvarado, and another cavalier who
officiated as interpreter, he said to Alvarado, with a mild voice, very
strangely contrasted with the rudeness of his words,

"Look into the face of this heathen dog, and tell me if thou knowest
him."

Alvarado had been, as the historical reader is aware, left in Mexico,
the jailer of Montezuma and the warden of the city, during the absence
of Cortes, when he marched against Narvaez. It was supposed, therefore,
that Don Pedro was better acquainted with the persons of the principal
nobles than any other cavalier. He examined the captive curiously, and
at last said, shaking his head,

"Methinks his visage is not unknown; and yet I wot not to whom it
belongs. The knave is but a boy. If he be a noble, never trust me but he
is one of Guatimozin's making, and therefore not yet of consequence."

At the sound of his own name, the only word distinguishable by the
prisoner, Alvarado observed that his brow contracted a little. But this
awoke no suspicion.

"Demand of him," said Cortes to the interpreter, "his name, and the
purpose of his coming to Tezcuco?"

When this was explained to the Mexican, his brow contracted still
further, but rather with inquisitiveness than embarrassment:

"I am Olin-pilli," (that is, Olin the Lord, or Lord Olin,) he replied,
"the speaker of wise things to the king, and the mouth of nobles."

He then paused, as if to examine with what degree of belief he was
listened to; and being satisfied, from the countenance of Don Hernan,
that he was really unknown, he continued, with a more confident tone,

"And I come to the Lord of the East, the Son of the God of Air, to hear
the words of his children. Did not the Teuctli send for me?"

"Not I," replied the Captain-General, sternly. "Speaker of wise things,
I look into thy heart, and I see thy falsehood. Thou art a spy,--a
_quimichin_,--sent by Guatimozin the king, to speak dark things to the
men of Tlascala."

The captive, though somewhat disconcerted, maintained a fearless
countenance:

"The Teuctli is the son of the gods, and knows everything," he answered.

"And charged also," continued Cortes, "to whisper in the ears of fools,
who send good words to the king, that the king may enrich them with
gold. Is not this true, Sir Quimichin?"

"Is not Malintzin the Son of Quetzalcoatl, the White God with a beard,
who proclaimed from the Hill of Shouting[10] and from the Speaking
Mountain,[11] the coming of his offspring? and shall Olin know more
things than Malintzin? Guatimozin thinks, that the Spaniard should not
slay his people."

[Footnote 10: _Tzatzitepec_, a mountain near Tula.]

[Footnote 11: _Catcitepetl_, a volcano.]

"Wherefore, then, sent he not thee to _me_?" demanded the
Captain-General. "I will listen to his words. It was not wise to send
his ambassador to the soldier, when the general sat by, in his
tent.--Hearken to me, friend Olin," he continued, with gravity: "Hadst
thou brought his discourse to me, thou hadst then been listened to with
honour, and dismissed in peace. Art thou a soldier?"

"Olin is a counsellor," replied the Mexican, proudly; "but he has bled
in battle."

"And is not Guatimozin a warrior?"

"He is the king of the House of Darts, and he has struck his foe."

"When the lurking Ottomi is found skulking in his camp; when the angry
Tlascalan creeps up to his fort; what does Guatimozin then with the
prisoner? what says he to the Ottomi? what wills he with the Tlascalan?"

"He binds them to the stone, and they die like the dogs of the altar!"
replied the barbarian, with a fierce utterance.

"Thou hast spoken thine own doom," replied Cortes, sternly; "only that,
instead of perishing according to thy damnable customs, a sacrifice to
spirits accurst, thou shalt have such death as we give to the dogs of
Castile. Thou hast crept into my camp, like the spying Ottomi; thou
comest with sword and shield, like the bravo of Tlascala; and thou hast
addressed thyself to traitors and conspirators, to make them mine
enemies. Why then should I not hang thee upon a tree? or why," he
continued, with an elevated voice, descending from the platform, and,
with a single motion, unsheathing his rapier and aiming it against the
captive's breast--"why should I not kill thee, thou cur! upon the spot?"

"I am a Mexican!" replied the young king, rather opposing his body to
the expected thrust than seeking to avoid it; "I look upon my death, and
I spit upon thee, Spaniard!"

"Hah!" cried Cortes, whose desire was to intimidate, not to slay, and
who could not but admire the fearless air of defiance, so boldly assumed
by the captive, "thou hast either a true heart, or a penetrating
eye.--Fear not; thy life is in my hands, but I design thee no wrong:
death were but a just punishment for thy villany, yet I mean not to
enforce it. What wilt thou do, if I discharge thee unharmed?"

"I will know," said the barbarian, with a look of surprise, as soon as
this was interpreted, "that Malintzin is not always hungry for blood; or
rather, I will ask of my thoughts, what mischief to Mexico is meditated
in the act of mercy."

"A shrewd knave, i'faith, a shrewd knave!" cried Cortes, admiringly: "by
my conscience, this fellow hath somewhat the wit of a Christian
politician.--Infidel," he continued, "hearken to what I say. I desire to
speak the words of peace with my young brother Guatimozin. Wherefore
will he not listen to me?"

"Because his ears are open to the groans of his children," replied the
Mexican, promptly. "When Malintzin smiles, the brand hisses on the flesh
of the prisoner; when he talks of peace, the great warhorse paws the
breast of the dead. Let this thing be not, let his insurgent subjects be
sent to their villages, and Guatimozin will listen to the Teuctli."

"He has slain my ambassadors," said Cortes.

"Shall the slave say to his master, 'I am the bondman of another,' and
laugh in the king's face? Let Malintzin send a Christian to Guatimozin.
I will row him in my skiff, and he shall return unharmed."

"What thinkest thou of _this_? I will send him such an envoy, and thou
shalt remain a hostage in his place. What will be said to him by the
king of Mexico?"

"This," replied the captive, without a moment's hesitation: "The
Christian is in Mexico, and Olin-pilli in the prisons of Malintzin: let
the Christian therefore die."

"Ay, by my conscience, he speaks well," said Cortes. "But were
friendship offered, and twenty thousand hostages left behind, I should
like to know what Spaniard of us all would perform the pilgrimage? There
is but _one_.--But that is naught. By heaven and St. John, we will think
of other things! we will think of other things!--Is it not death by the
decree?"

"Señor!" cried Alvarado in surprise. Cortes started.--In the moment of
entranced thought, he had stridden away from the group to some distance,
and, he now perceived, they were gazing at him with wonder.

"We will entrust this thing to him, then, as I said," he cried,
hurriedly, "and he shall return with the misbeliever's answer. We have
no other choice. What think ye of it, my masters?"

"Of _what_?" said Alvarado, bluntly: "You have said nothing. By'r lady,
and with reverence to your excellency, you are dreaming!"

"Pho!" cried the Captain-General, "did I not speak it? Our thoughts
sometimes sound in our ears, like words. This is the philosophy of the
marvel: Hast thou never, when thine eyes were shut, yet beheld in them
the objects of which thou wert thinking? If thou couldst think music,
never believe me but thou wouldst also hear it.--This, then, is the
thought which I forgot to utter: I will give this dog his freedom, and,
for lack of a better, make him my envoy to Guatimozin. If he return, it
will be well; if not, we are left where we were; and we can hang him
hereafter."

"Let us first know," said Sandoval, coolly, "by what sort of charm he
prevailed on this mad young man, Juan Lerma, to peril limb and life for
him, and, what is more, honour too."

"Ay, by my conscience!" said Cortes, hurriedly; "this thing I had
forgotten.--He shall die the death! Connive with a spy? conceal him from
the pursuers? draw sword upon a cavalier? strike at an officer's life?
Were he mine own brother, he should abide his doom. Who will say I wrong
him _now_?--Hah! what says the dog? How came this thing to pass?"

While Cortes was yet pursuing the subject nearest to his heart, half
soliloquizing, the question was asked and answered; and the reply, to
Guatimozin's great relief, was received with unexpected belief.

"He was caught by the bloodhound; (An excellent dog, that Befo!)" said
Alvarado; "and making his moan to Lerma, (whom heaven take to its rest!
for I know not how he can be so brave, and yet an ass,) the young fool
fell to his old tricks. When did an Indian ever ask him for pity in
vain?--This is his story; it is too natural to be false; yet, Indians
are great liars.--But you said something of making this cur your envoy?"

"Ay," replied Cortes: "What sayst thou, Olin, speaker of wise things!
wilt thou bear my thoughts to thy master Guatimozin?"

"The lord of Tenochtitlan shall hear them," said Guatimozin, his eyes
gleaming with expectation.

"And thou wilt return to me with his answer? Swear this upon the cross
of my sword; ay, and swear it by thy diabolical gods also."

"Guatimozin shall send back to Malintzin a noble Mexican; or, otherwise,
Olin will return. How shall the Mexican noble know that the Teuctli will
not take his life?"

"Does that deter you?" said Cortes: "I swear by the cross which I
worship, that, come thou or another, or come Guatimozin himself,
provided he come to me in peace, and with the king's message, he shall
depart in safety, with good-will and with favours such as this."

As he spoke, he took from his own neck, and flung round the Mexican's, a
chain of beads, which were neither of diamond, sapphire, nor ruby, but
sufficiently resembling each and all, to gratify the vanity of a
barbarian. The young king smiled--but it was at the thought of freedom.

"Thou shalt have more such, and richer," said Cortes, misconceiving his
joy. "Why is not Olin the friend of Malintzin?"

"Malintzin is a great prince," said the prisoner, softly.

"Is Olin content to be the slave of Guatimozin?" pursued the
Captain-General, insidiously. "Will Olin do Malintzin's bidding, and be
the king of Chalco?"

"Shall Olin slay Guatimozin?" cried the prisoner, with a gleam of subtle
intelligence, and so abruptly, that Cortes was startled.

"Hah! by my conscience!" he cried, "I understand thee: thou art even
more knave than I thought thee.--Kill the king indeed? By no means; harm
not a hair of his head: we will have no assassination. It is better this
young boy should be king than another.--This is a very proper knave.
Gentlemen, by your leave, I will bid you good-night: I will see the dog
to the water-side. Antonio, do thou walk with us, and explain between
us.--A very excellent shrewd villain."

So saying, the Captain-General turned to the door by which he had lately
entered, and taking the prisoner's arm, in the most familiar and
friendly manner, he stepped forthwith into the garden. The Mexican's
flesh crept, when it came in contact with that of the Spaniard; but
this, the Spaniard doubted not, was the tribute of awe to his greatness.
His voice became yet blander, as, walking onwards towards the lake, he
poured into Guatimozin's ear his wishes and instructions.

As they passed by the little pool and its dark enclosure of
schinus-trees, the infidel looked towards it anxiously and lingeringly,
as if hoping to behold once more the pale and beautiful countenance
which had shone upon it.--It lay in deep silence and solitude.

A few moments after, the Mexican had passed through the broken wall, and
by the sentries who guarded it, receiving the last instructions of the
invader. The next instant he was alone, stalking towards a little green
point, where a fringe of reeds and water-lilies shook in the diminutive
surges. He cast his eye backward to the two cavaliers, and beheld them
pass into the garden. Then, taking the chain of beads from his neck, and
rending it with foot and hand, he cast the broken jewels into the lake.
A moment after, his light skiff shot from its concealment, and the sound
of his paddle startled the droning wild-fowl from their slumbers.




CHAPTER XIV.


When Ovid describes the memorable encounter between Perseus and the
great sea-monster of Ethiopia, he is at the pains to narrate with what
fury the creature _snapped at the shadow_ of the flying hero,--a
circumstance of trivial importance in itself, though both striking and
characteristic; nay, he even relates how the warrior, at the first sight
of the fair Andromeda, chained to the rock, and waiting to be devoured,
was so moved with admiration that he forgot, for an instant, to flap his
wings,--another detail of more fitness than moment. Thus stooping to the
consideration of trifles, the poet does not scruple entirely to pass by
matters of the most palpable consequence. He disdains, for example, to
tell us even whether the monster _died_ or not in the encounter, leaving
that to be inferred; and, in like manner, he scorns even to answer the
question that might have been anticipated, namely, _why_ Perseus, like a
sensible soldier, did not whip out his gorgon's head, instead of his
'crooked sword,' and, by turning the beast into stone, save himself the
trouble of despatching him with his steel.

The writer of historical works, like the present, must claim the
privilege of the poet, and be allowed, while expatiating on events of
interest so inferior that they have been almost rejected by his
predecessors, to leave many others of manifest importance to be
supplied, not indeed by the imagination, but by the learning of the
reader. Our only desire is to follow the adventures of two individuals,
so obscure and so unfortunate, that the worthy and somewhat
over-conscientious Bernal Diaz del Castillo has despatched the whole
history of the first in the few vague fragments which we have prefixed
to the story; while he has scrupulously abstained from saying a single
word of the second.

If the reader will turn to the pages of this conscientious historian, of
De Solis, or of Clavigero, he will be made acquainted with the stirring
exploits of the eight or nine weeks that followed after the arrest of
Juan Lerma. In this time, the Captain-General, at the head of all the
Spaniards, save those who were left in garrison at Tezcuco, and the few
sailors and shipwrights who remained in the dock-yards, to preside over
Indian artificers, compelled to work at the brigantines--in this time,
we say, and at the head of this force, assisted by many thousand
Tlascalans, Cortes commenced and completed the circuit of the whole
valley, storming and burning cities and towns without number, resisted
valiantly in all that were not disaffected, and sometimes, as at the
city of Tacuba, repulsed with great loss and no little dishonour. The
whole campaign abounds with singular and exciting incidents, of which,
however, it does not suit our purpose to mention any but one, and that
almost in a word. At the city of Xochimilco, or the Garden of Flowers,
(for this is the signification of the word,) where the resistance was
sanguinary and noble, though, in the end, ineffectual, Cortes was
wounded, surrounded, struck down from his horse, which was killed, and
he himself, for a moment, a prisoner; and he owed his life and liberty
only to the extraordinary valour of Gaspar Olea of the Red Beard, who,
with the help of a few resolute Tlascalans, succeeded in bringing him
off. The aid thus rendered by Olea was the more remarkable, since, from
the moment of Juan's arrest, he had become sullen, morose, and was
sometimes even charged to be mutinous. In this last imputation, however,
as far as it implied any treasonable thoughts or practices, the rude
Gaspar was wronged. His dissatisfaction was caused solely by the fall
and anticipated fate of his young captain. The heinousness of Juan's
crime--the drawing his sword upon an officer in the execution of his
duty, as Guzman had been, and, worse yet, the aiming of that at the
breast of the General--had left it, apparently, impossible to be
forgiven. It was universally expected that Juan would expiate the crime
with his life; and the only wonder was, that he had not been immediately
tried, condemned, and executed. His destiny was therefore anticipated
with more curiosity than doubt, and apparently with less pity than
either. Gaspar did not attempt to deny Juan's guilt; but when he
remembered the sufferings and perils they had shared together, his heart
burned with fury, to think how soon the brave and well-beloved youth
should die the death of a caitiff. His dissatisfaction expended itself
in anger towards the Captain-General; and hence the surprise of his
comrades at his act of daring and generosity. But Gaspar had his own
ends in view, when he saved the life of Cortes.

It was now many weeks since his arrest, and Juan yet lay in
imprisonment, ignorant not so much of his fate, as of the causes which
delayed it. On the fourth day of his captivity, he was apprized, by the
sound of trumpets and artillery, the cries of men, and the neighing of
horses, and, in general, by the prodigious bustle which accompanies the
setting-out of an army from a populous city, that some enterprise was
meditated and begun; but of its character he was kept wholly ignorant.
The custody of his person seemed to be committed to Villafana and the
hunchback Najara, conjointly; but it was observable, that, although
Najara frequently entered his den alone, Villafana never made his
appearance without being accompanied by the Corcobado.

From Najara he gained not a word of intelligence, the hunchback ever
replying to his questions with scowls, or with pithy sarcasms in
allusion to the crimes of treason and mutiny. From Villafana, attended,
and, as it seemed to Juan, watched, by the jealous Najara, he obtained
nothing but unmeaning nods of the head, and sometimes looks, too
significant to be doubted, and yet too oraculous to be understood.

After the first fortnight, Villafana failed to visit him altogether, and
he saw not the face of a human being, except once each morning, when
Najara was accustomed to make his appearance, followed by an Indian
slave, bearing food and a jar of water. With this latter being, a
decrepit old man, on whose naked shoulder was imprinted the horrible
letter G, (for _guerra_, indicating that he was a prisoner of war,--in
other words, a branded bondman,) he endeavoured to speak, using all the
native dialects with which he was acquainted; but, though Najara made no
offer to prevent such conversation, the barbarian replied only by
touching his ear and then his breast, signifying thereby that, though he
heard the words, he did not understand them. Though Najara permitted
these little attempts at speech, with contemptuous indifference, Juan
perceived that he ever kept his eyes fastened upon the Indian, as if to
prevent any effort at communication of another sort. Thus, if any
benevolent friend had endeavoured to convey a message by letter or
otherwise, it was apparent that Najara took the best steps to insure its
miscarriage.

Foiled thus in every attempt to exchange thoughts with a fellow-being,
and reduced to commune only with his own, the unhappy prisoner ceased,
at last, to make any effort; and, yielding gradually to a despair that
was not the less consuming for being entirely without complaint, he
began, in the end, to be indifferent even to the coming and presence of
his jailer, neither rising to meet him, nor even lifting his eyes from
the floor, on which they were fixed with a lethargic dejection.

He became also indifferent to his food; and once, when Najara entered,
he perceived that the water-jar, the dish of _tortillas_, or
maize-cakes, the savoury wild-fowl, and the fragrant _chocolatl_, (for
in regard to food, he was liberally supplied,) stood upon the little
table, where they had been placed the day before, untasted and even
untouched. He cast his eyes upon the youth, and, for the first time,
began to feel a sentiment of pity for his condition. Indeed, the noble
figure of the young man was beginning to waste away; his cheeks were
hollow, his neglected beard was springing uncouthly over his lips, and
his sunken eyes drooped upon the earth, as if never more to gleam with
the light of hope and pleasure. The hunchback hesitated for a moment,
and then growled out a few words,--the first he had uttered for a week.
But these, though commiseration prompted them, he succeeded in making
expressive only of scorn or anger.

"Hark you, señor Juan Lerma," he said, "do you mean to starve?"

At the sound of his voice, so unusual and so unexpected, the young man
raised his eyes, but with a vague, wo-begone look, and answered nothing.

"I say, señor," continued Najara, somewhat more blandly, "is it your
will to die by starvation rather than in any other way?"

"Ah, Najara! is it thou?" said Juan, rising feebly, or indolently, to
his feet. "Heaven give you a good-morrow."

"Pshaw!" returned the jailer, gruffly; "pray me no such prayers: keep
them for yourself. I ask you, if it be your purpose to starve yourself
to death, out of a mere unsoldierly fear of hanging?"

"Thou hast not said so much to me, I know not when," replied the youth,
not with any intention of shuffling off the question, but speaking of
what was uppermost in his mind. His voice was very mild, and Najara, by
no means without his weaker points, felt it as a reproach.

"I care not," he replied, "if I answer you any two or three questions,
that may be nearest to your heart. But first give me to know, wherefore
you have eaten nothing? Are you sick?"

"Surely I am, at heart; but, bodily, I am well."

"And you are not resolute to die of hunger, before the
judgment-day?--Pho, if you have that spirit, perhaps it were better. But
it is a death of great torment.--Yet, why should one be afraid of the
shame? 'Tis nothing, when we are dead."

"Is this thy fear then?" said Juan, patiently. "It is not permitted us
to commit suicide in any form. I will eat, to satisfy thee; but food is
bitter in prison."

"What a pity," muttered Najara, as Juan ate a morsel of food, "that
heaven should give thee such a goodly and godlike body, and such a brave
soul, (for, o' my life, I believe thou art entirely without fear,) and
yet make thee a madman and traitor!"

"A traitor!" said Juan, without taking any offence, for, indeed, he
seemed to have been robbed of all the fire of his spirit. "It is not
possible anybody can believe me a traitor."

"Pho! did I not, with mine own eyes, see thee lunge at Cortes? It is
base of thee to deny it."

"I do not deny it," said Juan; adding, vehemently, "but I call heaven to
witness, I saw not his face, and knew him not. He may persecute me to
death, as I believe he is doing. Yet could I do him no wrong; no, I
_think_, I could not.--But it is bitter, to feel we are trampled on!"

"Well, señor, it is better you should be in a passion than a trance. But
be not utterly without hope. If you can truly make it appear you knew
not the general, it is thought by one or two, you may be pardoned. I
have talked with Guzman; and I think he may be brought to forgive and
even intercede for you."

"I will neither receive _his_ forgiveness nor his intercession," said
Juan, frowning. "And I wonder you mention to me his detested name."

"Oh, señor!" said Najara, sharply, "you may choose your own friends, and
hunt them again among heathen Indians.--That you should sell your life
for this dog of a noble!--Fare you well, señor, fare you well."

"Stay, Najara," said Juan, following him towards the door: "you said you
would answer me such questions as were nearest my heart. Give not over
the kindly thought. There are many things, which if I knew, my lot would
not be so hard, my dungeon not so killing to my spirit. The army is
gone--is Mexico invested?"

"Not so," replied the hunchback; "it has a month or two's grace
yet.--The troops have marched against the shore-towns.--But for this mad
fit, thou mightst have been with them, or making thyself famous at
Tochtepec!"

Juan sighed heavily.

"And the Indian, of whom you spoke,--the young noble,--Olin the orator,"
he demanded, at first, not without hesitation.

"Oh, the cur," replied Najara; "I think Cortes was even as mad as
thyself, touching the knave. But wit is like a river, sometimes too
full, washing away its own banks--it may be said to drown itself.--He
made the dog his ambassador, swore him to return faithfully from
Guatimozin, and waited three days for him in vain. Such rogues are like
arrows,--good weapons, when you have the cast of them, but not to be
expected in hand again, unless shot back by a foeman."

It was fortunate, perhaps, that Najara had relaxed so far from his
austerity as to resume the vein of metaphor common to his softer
moments. Had he been as observant as usual, he must have been struck
with suspicion at the sudden gleam of satisfaction, with which Juan
heard the good fortune of the Mexican. But he marked it not.

"Tell me now," said Juan, "how thou comest to be my jailer; and why it
is that Villafana seems to have given up his trust to thee?"

At this question, Najara's good-humour immediately vanished, and he
replied, sourly,

"Oh, content you, you shall be in good keeping."

"I doubt it not," said Juan, calmly. "But Villafana is, or methinks he
is, more friendly to me than you. I did but desire to know what changes
had taken place in the government of the city, from the watchman up to
the commandant, since my imprisonment."

"Ay, indeed!" replied Najara, grimly: "such changes, that hadst thou
fifty friends waiting to aid thee, thou shouldst be caught, before
getting twenty steps from the door. Know then, that I am made Alguazil,
as well as Villafana; and what is more, I am captain of the prison. The
Alcalde is Antonio de Quinones, master of the armory; and the Corregidor
of the city is thy good friend Guzman,--an honour thou gavest him, by
hacking his face so freely, and so leaving him in the hospital."

"You speak to me in sarcasm," said Juan, mildly: "I have not deserved
it. And methinks you should be more generous of temper, than to oppress
with words of insult, a fallen and helpless man.--Well, heed it not--I
forgive you. I have but one more question to ask you.--The lady,--this
lady, La Monjonaza--"

"Ay!" cried Najara, with singular bitterness, "I have heard of that too.
You were seen talking with her in the garden. You will play chamberer
with Cortes! ay, and rival too! Pho, canst thou not be at peace? Meddle
with the general's fancy. Why that were enough to hang thee. I had some
soft thoughts of thee; but everything shows thou art unworthy. Farewell;
think of these things no more; but repent and make your peace with
heaven."

So saying, the hunchback flung out of the room, and securing the thick
door of plank, Juan was again left to his meditations.




CHAPTER XV.


Then followed another period of silence and dejection, in which the
prisoner wasted away as much in body as in spirit, becoming so
listlessly indifferent to everything, that he no longer betrayed any
desire to draw Najara into conversation, nor even to meet the advances
which his jailer now often made. The thought of escaping from
confinement, perhaps, never entered his mind; for, had he been even less
resigned to his fate, the strict watch kept over him, and the condition
of his prison, added to his apparent friendlessness, must have been
enough to banish all such thoughts. His chamber was neither dark nor
damp, but made strong by its bulky door, barred on the outside, and by
windows, high above the floor, so very narrow that no human being could
hope to pass through them.

Narrow as they were, however, it was the jailer's custom to examine them
very closely each morning; a degree of vigilance that Juan had, in the
earlier days of captivity, remarked with some surprise. He became
acquainted with Najara's object at last. One morning, he was roused out
of his stupefaction by a harsh exclamation from his jailer, and looking
up, he beheld him take from the floor, immediately under one of the
loopholes, what seemed a slip of paper, tied to a little stick, which
appeared, some time during the night, to have been thus thrust into the
prison. What were its contents he never could divine; for Najara had no
sooner cast his eyes over it, than mingling a laugh of satisfaction at
its miscarriage with some natural compassion for the profound
wretchedness which had sealed the ears and eyes of the prisoner, he
immediately departed with the prize.

From this time, Juan became more vigilant and wary; but the following
night, he was admonished, by the clank of armour and the occasional
sound of voices without, that sentinels were now stationed under the
windows, thus precluding all hope of friendly communication from that
quarter.

Before he had again entirely relapsed into his listless gloom, he began
to have a vague consciousness that the Indian slave, who accompanied
Najara, was becoming more officious than of old, in setting his meals
before him, and particularly in placing the jar of water at his side,
instead of depositing it on his table, as he had done before. His
suspicion was confirmed, when, one morning, as Najara was making his
wonted survey of the windows, the slave gave him a quick, impatient
look, and shaking the jar as he set it down, made him sensible, by a
rattling sound within it, that there was something besides the innocent
element concealed at the bottom. As soon as Najara had departed, he made
an examination of the mystery, and drew forth, with some astonishment, a
plate of transparent obsidian, on which had been scratched by some hard
instrument or precious stone, a few words which he was soon able to
decypher. "If thou wilt leave Mexico, and live, take the stone from the
pitcher."

He strode about the apartment for a moment in disorder; then, crushing
the glassy temptation under his heel, and returning the fragments to the
jar, he sat down again to brood over his despair.--The next morning the
pitcher contained nothing but water.

Thus, then, the time passed away, in the ordinary listlessness of
confinement,--the dull and sleepy torture of solitude; until Najara,
waxing more compassionate as his prisoner grew more obviously
indifferent to light, to food, and to speech, bethought him of a mode of
indulgence from which no danger could be apprehended, and accordingly
introduced the dog Befo into the apartment.

The loud yells of joy with which Befo beheld his young master, recalled
Juan from his lethargy; and Najara was touched still further with
compunction at the sight of the animal's transports.

"He has been whining every day at the prison gate," he muttered; "and
doubtless he would have whined full as much, though he were to be let in
only to be beaten. Such a fond fool is this young Juan himself: he
returns to his master, though he knows the scourge is ready. It were
better he had taken my advice, and passed to the sea by Otumba: He
should have known Cortes would never forgive him."

The presence of this faithful animal, if it did not recall Juan's
spirits, at least preserved him from sinking further into stupefaction;
and nothing gave him more evident delight, than when, each morning,
having prevailed upon Najara to lead his dumb companion into the air for
exercise, he could hear Befo, in the joy of a liberty which he did not
share, dashing frantically through the garden, now coursing by the
water-side, now prancing by the palace, and, all the time, yelping and
barking with the most clamorous delight. From these daily sorties the
dog was used to return, with fresh spirits and increased attachment, to
share, for the remainder of the day, the confinement of his master, upon
whom, at his entrance, he jumped and fawned almost as boisterously as
when enjoying his sports in the garden.

One day, however, he returned with a much graver aspect than usual, and
stalking up to where Juan sat, he stood, wagging his tail, and gazing up
with a look exceedingly knowing and significant. Somewhat surprised at
this, and finding that Befo refused, even when invited, to begin his
usual rough expressions of friendship, he took him by the leathern
collar, by which the servants of Cortes had been wont to secure him at
night, and pulled him towards him. The motion of the collar released a
little packet, that had been carefully secured beneath it, and which now
fell upon Juan's knee. As soon as the sagacious animal perceived that he
had accomplished a task, not often committed to such a messenger, he
returned to his usual demonstrations of satisfaction; and, for a moment,
Juan was unable to examine the singular missive. When Befo became
composed, he opened it, and read, with no little agitation, the
following words: "Not for _me_, but for thyself.--There is but a day
more to choose. Leave Mexico, and shed not thine own blood: make not thy
friends curse thee.--Return but a fragment of the paper, or tie but a
hair round the collar,--and thou shalt be saved.--Not for _me_, but for
_thyself_."

The morning came, and Juan, taking the paper from his bosom, tore it to
pieces. When Najara offered as usual to liberate the dog, he perceived
that Juan held him fast by the collar.

"How now, señor, shall the dog play?"

"It is cruel to rob him of his hour's liberty," said Juan, with a
subdued voice; "but, this day, suffer him to remain with me."

"Well, señor, as you will," said Najara; "but I would you had some
better friend,--at least, some one who could counsel you. There are
runners arrived from the northern towns; and, at midday, Cortes will
march into the city."

"The better reason, then, that I should have this friend, who have no
other," said Juan, calmly.

"Harkee, señor," said Najara, with a sort of petulant sympathy, "if you
would but curse yourself and your foes, or bemoan your fate a little, I
should like it better than this stupid, womanish resignation.--Hark
ye,--I care not if I tell you: I thought you had come athwart the
fancies of Don Hernan, in the matter of the Doña, not that Don Hernan
had wronged your own: I knew not that there was any old love between
you."

"What art thou speaking of, Najara?" said Juan, with a hasty and
troubled voice.

"This does, in some sense, weaken the sin of drawing sword upon him,"
continued the hunchback, "for no man loves to be robbed of his
mistress.--Well,--the señora is sorry for you.--She thought to bribe me
to let her speak with you.--Bribe me!--And yet I pitied her, for she was
sorely distressed."

"For God's sake," exclaimed Juan, in extreme suffering, "speak me not a
word of her; let me not hear her name."

"Well, be not cast down; she has much power with the general, and,
doubtless, she will plead for you. Well, fare you well.--I did think to
let Cortes know of her acts: but that might harden him against you still
more.--Why should I waste thought upon him," muttered the deformed as he
passed from the prison. "It is hard, or it seems hard, that heaven
should give up a frame so beauteous and majestical, to be marred by the
hangman's axe or rope, and leave a deformed lump like me, to scare
little Indian girls and boys, and to be jibed at by all the craven loons
of the army. But this is naught: if I am crooked, I am neither fool,
traitor, nor coward, as most others are, in one degree or other, and
sometimes in all."

As Najara had foretold, the army returned to Tezcuco about noon, as was
made evident to Juan, by the sound of trumpets and cannon, and other
warlike noises of rejoicing; which, continuing to fill the city for many
hours, came to his ears like the tumult of a distant storm, and began to
die away, only when the last twinkle of sunset, shooting through his
narrow windows, had faded from the opposite wall.




CHAPTER XVI.


It was now midnight. Audience after audience, and council after council,
in the great hall of the palace, had shown how rapidly were approaching
to a climax the involved events and schemes, which had for their object
the overthrow of the Indian empire, as well as some that looked to an
end equally dark, though of less public import. The Captain-General had
despatched several audiences entirely of a private nature, and hoped to
be relieved of his toil, while discharging from his presence an
individual already known to the reader as Gaspar of the Red Beard.
Whatever might have been the subject of the conference, its conclusion
was unsatisfactory to both parties; for Olea departed with a visage both
sullen and vindictive, while Cortes strode to and fro, evidently
affected by vexation and anger.

As Olea, who had long since got rid of the 'infidel gait,' which had
drawn a remark from Cortes, and which, doubtless assumed to assist his
disguise, only adhered to him through habit,--as he vanished through the
great door, another character made his appearance, entering by one of
those doors which opened from the garden. It was the señor Camarga; who,
from the friar's habit, again flung over his armour, seemed to have been
engaged, a second time, in his maskings.

"What news, señor? what news hast thou?" demanded Cortes, in a low
voice, making a sign to the visitor to imitate his cautiousness. "Hast
thou gathered aught of my dog Villafana? By my conscience, we are at a
fault; the fox is scared into virtue: Najara hath seen no ill in him,
Guzman avers he hath detected no sign of guilt, and not a spy is there
of all, who does not swear that his fright in the matter of Olin, (that
knave, too, cajoled me!) has reduced him into submission and honesty.
Hast thou found nothing?"

"Nothing to be thought of, perhaps," replied Camarga. "Villafana is
either returned to his allegiance, as your excellency hints, or he is
too deep in distrust, to confer with me any further. He swears, if one
could believe him, that he has thought better of his schemes, and is now
resolved that they were foolish and unjust,--and therefore that he has
ended them."

"He lies, the rogue!" said Cortes; "you have pursued him too
closely.--It was an ill thought to league Najara with him.--These things
have made him suspicious, not penitent. I have taken the hunchback away,
restored Villafana to his prisonward, and, in short, taken all means to
seduce him into security. You will see the cloven foot again, and that
right shortly."

"Perhaps what I have to say will make your excellency believe it is
displayed already. He has admitted one to speak with the prisoner--"

"Hah!" cried Cortes,--"a file of spearsmen!--But no; it matters not.
There is no fear of escape; and this were too aimless an explosion. Know
you the person he has admitted?"

"I do not," said Camarga; "but from the glance of the garment, methought
'twas some such godly brother as myself. And yet 'twas a taller man than
Olmedo."

"By my conscience," said Cortes, quickly, "methinks I can divine the
mystery: but of that anon. Hark thee, friend Camarga, dost thou still
burn for this wretched man's life? I tell thee, there is much
intercession made for him. It was but a moment since that the
Barba-Roxa,--a good soldier, i'faith,--made certain fierce moans for
him, mingled with divers mutinous reproaches. I vow to heaven, I could
have struck the knave dead, but that he saved my life at Xochimilco."

"I have heard that Juan Lerma did the same thing, on the plains of
Tlascala," replied Camarga, dryly.

"Thou art deceived!" exclaimed Don Hernan, with a sudden shudder. "The
attempt, I grant you, the attempt be made; but I needed no help. Yet do
I remember the act; and, by heaven, I would I might forgive him,--I
would I might! I would I might! for the thought of judging him to death,
is like a wolf in my bosom. Once I loved him as my son,--yes, as my very
son," he repeated, with extraordinary agitation; "and when he played
with my little children, I swear, I looked upon him but as their elder
brother. What will men say of the act, since they cannot know the
cause?"

Apparently Camarga looked upon this burst of relenting feeling, (for
such it really was,) with too much dissatisfaction and alarm, to notice
the allusion to a cause differing from any with which he was acquainted.
He exclaimed, hastily, and with a darkening visage,

"If open mutiny and resistance be not excuse enough, have I not spoken
an argument that should steel thy heart for ever? Shall I utter it
again? I swear to thee then, that this miserable creature,
Magdalena,--this wretch that even thou wouldst have made the slave of
thy pleasures, and thereby added upon thy soul a sin never to be
forgiven,--no, never!--is a true NUN,--forsworn, lost, condemned! Wilt
thou refuse to punish the author of a horrible impiety? Would that I had
strangled her, when an infant, though with mine own hand!--Thou talkest
of a wolf in thy bosom; couldst thou feel one fang of the agony, that
this act of horror has planted in mine, thou wouldst deem thyself happy.
Let the wretch die: ask not for further cause; think not of any."

"The cause is, indeed, enough," said Cortes, crossing himself with
dread, "to ensure not death only, but a death at the stake of fire; and
I am not one to think the punishment should be made easy. I could tell
thee a story of the end of broken vows, and the vengeance of God upon
the robber of convents; but it needs not.--Sleep in thy grave, poor
wretch! and be forgotten." He muttered a few words to himself, and then
banishing, with an effort, what seemed a mournful recollection, he
resumed,--"Tell me but one thing, Camarga, and I am satisfied. The cause
is enough, (though this is a crime to be judged by ecclesiastics,) to
ensure the young man's fate; but it is _not_ enough to explain the
rancour of thy hatred. Speak me the truth--Is this unhappy creature
child of thine?"

"Think so, if thou wilt," said Camarga, with a lip ashy and quivering,
"but ask not, ask not now. Give the young man to the block, and commit
the girl into my hands, with the means of leaving this land; then, if
thou hast the courage to listen, thou shalt hear a story that will
freeze thy blood.--Is he not guilty of this thing?"

"Is he not guilty of more?" muttered the Captain-General. "It is enough;
thou hast steeled my heart. I leave him in the hands of the Alcaldes and
De Olid, who have no such faintness of heart as confounds mine. Fare
thee well, señor: I know thee better, and I like thee well. Turn not
thine eye from Villafana."

Thus, mingling the suggestions of a native policy with passions not the
less constitutional, Cortes dismissed his disguised visitant. The
curtain of the great door had scarce concealed the retreating Camarga,
before he heard a footstep behind; and looking round, he beheld the
figure of La Monjonaza steal in from the garden, and cross the
apartment.

"What sayst thou _now_, Magdalena?" he cried, striding up to her, and
viewing with interest a countenance sternly composed, yet bearing the
traces of recent and deep passions. "Thou shouldst have told me of
this.--Yet what sayst thou now?"

"Nothing," replied the maiden, calmly, but with tones deeper than
usual,--"Nothing.--Do thy work."

With these brief and mystic expressions, she passed among the secret
chambers; and the Captain-General, stalking into the garden, until the
chill breezes from the lake had cooled his feverish temples, betook
himself, at last, to his couch, to subdue, in slumber, imaginary
empires, and contend with visionary foes.




CHAPTER XVII.


The day after the Feast of the Holy Ghost, or Whitsunday, early in May,
1521, opened upon the valley of Mexico with clouds and vapours, which,
sweeping over the broad lake, collected and lingered, with boding fury,
around the island city, discharging thunder and lightning, while the
sunbeams shone clear and uninterrupted over Tezcuco, and the rich
savannas which surrounded it. It was the morning of a novel and
impressive ceremony. A rivulet, deepened by the labours of many thousand
Indians, into a navigable canal, and bordered for the space of half a
league on either side, by narrow meadows, separated the city from
another scarce inferior in magnitude, but which yet seemed only a
suburb. The whole space thus extending between the two cities, from the
lake, as far as the eye could see, was blackened by the bodies of Indian
warriors, armed and decorated as if for battle, while the housetops in
the cities were equally thronged with multitudes of aged men and women
and children. A narrow space was left vacant on each bank of the canal,
from which the feathered barbarians, two hundred thousand in number,
were separated by the Spanish army, drawn up in extended lines on either
bank, the companies of footmen alternating with little squadrons of
mounted cavaliers, from whose spears waved bright pennons.

As they stood thus, in gallant array, a flourish of trumpets drew their
eyes up the stream, and they could behold over the housetops, winding
with the sinuosities of the canal, a line of masts and of sails half let
loose to the breeze, advancing slowly towards the lake, drawn, as it
presently appeared, by double rows of natives, gayly apparelled, who
occupied the space on the banks left vacant by the military.

As they approached nigh and more nigh, it was seen that each vessel bore
no little resemblance to some of those light and open brigantines which
have been, from time immemorial, the chosen delights of Mediterranean
pirates, and the scourge of the sea from Barbary to the Greek Islands.
Each carried twenty-five men, twelve of whom were rowers, the others
musketeers, crossbowmen, cannoniers, (for a falconet frowned over the
prow of each,) and sailors. Besides a multitude of little pennons with
which they were covered, two great banners waved over each, the one
bearing the royal arms of Spain, the other being the private standard
which had been assigned, along with an appropriate name and a solemn
benediction, by a priest, at the dock-yard, after the celebration of the
mass of the Holy Ghost; for with such ceremonies of religion and pomp,
the fatal galleys were committed, that morning, to their proper element.

One by one they passed into the lake, and ranged in a line before the
mouth of the little river, fourteen in number. At this point, the
mummeries of celebration were concluded by another and final
benediction, pronounced from the shore; which was succeeded by a
combined uproar of artillery, trumpets, and human voices, more loud and
tumultuous than any which had yet shaken the borders of Tezcuco.

When the smoke of the cannon had cleared away, the brigantines were seen
parting and flitting along in different courses, like a flock of
wild-fowl, frightened and separated by the explosion. Their evolutions
should be rather likened to the gambols of vultures, escaped from some
dreary confinement, and now fluttering their wings in the joy of
liberation, and the expectation of prey. Castilian navigators were at
last launched upon the sea of Anahuac, and they seemed resolved at once
to confirm their dominion, by ploughing through each rolling surge, and
penetrating to every bay and creek. As they divided thus, some standing
out into the lake, and others darting along the shores, the admiring and
shouting spectators began to observe and point out to one another
certain pillars of smoke, rising one after the other, from the hills and
headlands; by which was conveyed from town to town the intelligence of
an event long since expected by the watchful infidels.

Another spectacle, however, soon withdrew the eyes of the lookers on
from these signal fires. From the bank of vapours which still concealed
the towers of Tenochtitlan, they beheld an Indian piragua, or gondola,
of some magnitude, and no little splendour, come paddling into view,
followed by three canoes of much lighter and plainer structure. An
awning of brilliant cloths, running from stem to stern over the piragua,
overshadowed and almost hid the rowers.

It was no sooner perceived from the fleet, than three or four
brigantines gave chase, as after an undoubted enemy and legal prize.
Still, its voyagers advanced on their course, fearlessly, and to all
appearance disregardful of the commands of the captains to heave-to,
even although one call was accompanied by a musket shot, discharged
across their bows. Its director undoubtedly confided in his pacific
character, indicated, according to the customs of Anahuac, by a little
net of gold, mingled with white feathers, tied to the head of a spear,
and displayed high above the awning.

"Well done for the dog, Techeechee!" muttered Cortes into the ear of an
hidalgo, of stern appearance, mounted like himself and at his side;
"Well done for Techeechee, the Silent Dog! he is worth twenty such
hounds as Olin-pilli. He has brought me an embassy. By my conscience, it
comes over late though, and I know not what good can spring of it, at
this hour.--These fools of the brigantines are over-officious!--'Tis a
confident knave; see, he steers for the palace garden! I must ride
thither.--Hark thee, De Olid," he continued, still addressing the grim
cavalier, but aloud, as if willing that all should hear: "let this thing
be despatched: Thou wilt make, at the worst, a just judge. In this
trial, it becomes neither my feelings, nor perhaps my honour, that I
should myself sit in judgment. The chief Alcaldes will give thee their
aid. Judge not in anger, but with justice; bring it not against the
young man that he turned his sword upon me--And yet I see not how thou
canst avoid it: nevertheless, if thou canst do so, let it be done. There
is enough else to condemn him. His life is in thine hands: be just; and
yet be not too rigid. If thou canst, by any justifiable leniency, admit
him to mercy, do so. Yes, be merciful, if thou canst,--be merciful."

With these instructions, which were pronounced not without discomposure,
Cortes put spurs to his steed, and rode into the city and to the palace,
followed by some half dozen cavaliers.

He had scarcely assumed the state with which he thought fit to overawe
the envoys of the different barbaric tribes, whom the fame of his power
and greatness was daily bringing to his court, before an officer entered
the audience-chamber from the garden, and acquainted him that
ambassadors from Tenochtitlan humbly craved to be admitted to his
presence.

"Let them be taken round to the front, that the dogs may look upon the
artillery," said the Captain-General; and perhaps added in his thoughts,
"that they may creep up to my footstool, taking in my greatness from
afar, until their humility dwindles into submissiveness."

Presently the curtain of the great door was pushed aside, and the
Mexicans entered, preceded and followed by armed men; the old Ottomi
being in advance of all. They were twelve in number, the chief or
principal being a man of lofty stature and manly years, wholly differing
from the orator Olin, for whom Cortes looked in vain among the others.
To indicate the high rank of the ambassador, two attendants sustained
over his head, on little rods, a gay canopy or penthouse of feathers.
His green mantle (for that was the colour worn by an ambassador,) was of
the richest material, the border being wrought into scroll-work with
little studs of solid gold. His buskins, for such they might be called,
were of crimson leather, and a crimson fillet was wound round his hair,
which was, otherwise, almost covered with little tufts or tassels of
cotton-down of the same hue. Each of these singular decorations was the
evidence and distinguishing badge of some valiant exploit in battle; and
it was therefore manifest to all in the slightest degree acquainted with
the customs of Anahuac, even at the first sight, that the barbarian was
a man of renown among the Mexicans. A cluster of rattling grains of
gold, suspended to his nostrils, indicated that he belonged to the order
of Teuctli,--a race of nobles inferior only to the _Tlamantli_, or
vassal-kings; and the red fillets showed that he was a Prince of the
House of Darts, the highest of the several chivalric branches into which
this order was divided, the two next appertaining to the House of Eagles
and the House of Tigers.--In introducing these barbaric terms, we have
no desire to inflict upon the reader a dissertation on Aztec chivalry,
but simply to make him aware, that these singular infidels were, in
their way, nearly as well provided with the vanities of knighthood and
nobility as some of the European nations in the Middle Ages.

The general appearance of the ambassador was commanding; his features
were bold and harsh, yet manly,--his forehead expanded, though inclined,
and furrowed as with the frowns of battle,--and his eye had a touch of
wildness and ferocity, at variance with his modest bearing while
advancing towards the Captain-General, and still more strongly
contrasted with that melancholy sweetness of mouth, which seems to be a
characteristic of all the children of America.--Perhaps it is _fitly_
characteristic, since the proclivity of their fate is equally mournful,
throughout all the continent. He bore in his hand the gold net and white
plume, hanging to a headless spear, which had been displayed and
distinguished afar in the piragua,--as well as a golden arrow,--both
being the emblems of a Mexican envoy. He was entirely without arms, as
were all the rest.

Behind the canopy-bearers came three old men, with tablets of dressed
skin, or maguey paper, in their hands, known, at once, to be
writers,--secretaries or annalists,--who accompanied ambassadors, and
other high officers, in expeditions of importance, to record their
actions and preserve the proofs of treaties.

After these followed six _Tlamémé_, or common carriers, bearing
presents, which, with Mexicans of that day, as with Orientals of this,
made no small share of the matériel of diplomacy.

As this train was led forward up to the chair of state, Cortes fixed his
eye with a smile of approbation on the Ottomi, but did not think fit to
honour him with any further evidence of thankfulness. He had other
matters to fill his thoughts; for, at the first glance, he recognized in
the ambassador a noble, famous even in the days of Montezuma, for skill,
audacity, and unconquerable aversion to the strangers, and who, under
the ominous title of Masquaza-teuctli,[12] or the Lord of Death, was
known to have commanded bodies of reinforcement, sent to several
different shore-towns, to oppose the arms of Cortes in the late
campaign. In especial, he was known to have devised the plan of cutting
the dikes of Iztapalapan, after decoying the Spaniards into that city,
where they escaped drowning almost by a miracle; it was equally certain
that he had commanded the multitudes of warriors, who, scarce ten days
since, had repulsed the Spaniards from Tacuba with considerable loss;
and he was even supposed to have been present in the sack of Xochimilco,
where Cortes had been in such imminent peril. The appearance of this man
was doubly disagreeable, as being heartily detested himself, and as
showing the temper of Guatimozin's mind, who chose to send an envoy so
little inclined to composition. A murmur of dissatisfaction arose among
the Spaniards present, as soon as they were made aware of the
ambassador's character; and if looks could have destroyed, it is certain
the Lord of Death would have passed to the world of shades, before
speaking a word of his embassy.

[Footnote 12: The name is corrupted, as are all those handed down by the
early historians. The suffixes, _pilli_ and _teuctli_, indicate the
title, and are therefore not a part of the name. We translate both
_lord_; though it would be more germain to the matter, however ludicrous
it might seem, to say at once Duke Death and Earl Olin.]

Without, however, seeming to regard these boding glances any more than
he had done the hostile opposition of the brigantines, he began without
delay the usual native forms of salutation. But before he could pass to
those rhetorical and reverential flourishes of compliment, which
constituted the exordium of an ambassador's speech, he was interrupted
by Cortes, whose words were interpreted by the same cavalier who had
officiated before, in the interview with Olin.

"Masquaza-teuctli, Lord of Death!" said the Captain-General, sternly,
"what dost thou here in Tezcuco?"

The infidel looked up with surprise, and having eyed the Spaniard a
moment, replied with another question, which was only remarkable as
indicating the composure of the speaker, and as giving utterance to
tones exceedingly soft and pleasant:

"Was Olin deceived, and did Techeechee lie?" he said. "I bring the words
of Guatimozin to Malintzin, son of Quetzalcoatl, and Lord of the Big
Canoes with legs of crocodiles and wings of pelicans."

"Art thou not stained with the blood of Castilians?" rejoined Cortes,
but little pleased with the frank and unawed bearing of the envoy. "This
thing is ill of Guatimozin: why does he send me an enemy from
Tenochtitlan?"

The Lord of Death replied with what seemed a lurking smile, if such
could be traced in a peculiar and slight motion of lips, always sedate,
if not always melancholy;

"Has the Teuctli a _friend_ in Tenochtitlan?--Let Malintzin speak his
name: I will return.--My little children are yet awkward with the bow
and arrow."

"Hark to the hound!" exclaimed the Captain-General, struck more by the
hint conveyed by the last words than by the sarcasm so gently expressed
in the first: "He would have me believe the very boys of Mexico are
training to resist us! and that he thinks it better honour to encourage
the young cubs to malice, than to speak to me for terms of
peace.--Hearken, infidel: you spoke of the young man Olin. Why returned
not he to Tezcuco?"

"Malintzin was in a hurry for the blood of Iztapalapan: the king saw the
glitter of spears on the lakeside, and said to his servant, 'Go not to
Tezcuco with gold and sweet words, but to Iztapalapan with axes and
spears.'--"

"Ay, marry; but Olin, what of Olin-pilli?--I warrant me, the knavish
king discovered the craft of the knavish noble, and so killed him?--I
was a fool to give him the beads.--What sayst thou, infidel! what has
become of the Speaker of Wise Things? I sent him to Guatimozin for an
envoy; and, lo you, this old savage, the Silent Dog, has brought me what
Olin could not, or did not. Is Olin living?"

"How shall I answer? Ipalnemoani[13] is the maker of life; it is the
king who takes it. Olin-pilli is forgotten."

[Footnote 13: One of the titles of the Supreme God, (_Teotl_,) who was
not worshipped directly, but through the medium of his agents, the
inferior divinities.]

"Ay then, let him sleep; and to thy work, infidel, to thy work. Will
Guatimozin have peace? He is somewhat late of decision; but the great
monarch of Spain, who sends me to speak with him, and to enforce the
vassalage acknowledged by Montezuma, is merciful. Speak, then, and
quickly. My ships are on the lake, my soldiers are thicker than the
reeds on its banks, and fiercer than its waters, when the torrents rush
down from the mountains. Will he have the blood of his people flow
through the streets, as the waters of an inundation, when the dikes are
broken? Speak then, Lord of Death; will Guatimozin acknowledge himself
the king's vassal, pay tribute, and govern his empire in peace?"

"Hear the words of Guatimozin," said the ambassador, beckoning to the
Tlamémé to open their packs: "The king sends you the history of his
land,"--taking up, from among many books, which made the contents of the
first bundle, a volume of hieroglyphics, and displaying its pictured
pages: "He has searched for the time when the king of Castile was the
lord of his people; but it is not written. How then shall he kiss the
earth before the Teuctli? He has sought to find to what race, besides
the race of heaven, the men of Mexico have paid tribute: It is not
written,--except this,--that once, when his fathers were poor and few,
the men of Cojohuacan called on them for tribute, and they paid it in
the skulls of their foes. The men of Castile call for tribute:
Guatimozin sends them such tribute as his fathers paid; here it
is--twelve skulls of the dogs of Chalco, taken in the act of rebellion."
And as he spoke, the grinning orbs rolled under his foot against the
platform.

"Hah!" cried Cortes, starting up, with as much admiration as wrath, for
he was keenly alive to every burst of audacious and heroic daring, "is
not this a merlin of a royal stock, that will try buffets with an eagle?
But, pho! the young man is besotted."

"Hear, further, the words of Guatimozin," continued the envoy, taking
from the third bundle two more books, and displaying them, as he had
done the first: "the king remembers that the wild Ottomies came down
from their hills, saying that they were foolish and pitiful, because
Ipalnemoani had kept them in darkness, so that they robbed one another,
and were blasphemers against heaven. The king gave them religion and
laws; and, behold, those that live upon the skirts of the valley, are
become wise and happy. The king says, 'Have not the Spaniards come like
the Ottomies? and are they not very ignorant and miserable?' These are
the king's words to Malintzin: 'Take this book, and learn how to worship
the gods: religion is a good thing, and will make you happy. Take this
book also, and understand the laws of men: justice is a good thing, and
will make you happy."

It would be difficult to express the varied feelings of wonder, anger,
scorn, and merriment, with which the Spaniards hearkened to this
extraordinary exhortation. Some stared, some frowned, some smiled, and a
few laughed outright; but all immediately betook themselves to looks of
sympathetic anger, when Cortes, again rising, stamped upon the platform,
crying with a fierceness that was in part unassumed,

"Knave of a heathen and savage, dost thou pass this scorn upon the
religion of Christ? this slight upon the laws of Castile? this slur upon
religious and civilized men? Look upon this cross, and say to
Guatimozin, that not a Spaniard shall leave his valley, till every slave
that acknowledges his sway, has knelt before it, and, abjuring the
fiendish idolatry of Mexitli, has sworn with a kiss, to worship naught
else. Look, too, upon this sword, and say to thine insolent prince, that
it shall not cease to strike and slay, until his whole people have
acknowledged it to be the abrogator of the old, and the teacher of a new
law, such as his brutish sages never dreamed of. In one word, give him
to know, that my purpose in his land, is to bestow upon it the cross of
heaven and the laws of Spain; and these I will bestow,--both,--so help
me the sword which I grasp, and the cross that I worship!"

A murmur of satisfaction and responsive resolution passed through the
assemblage, which had been considerably increased by the appearance of
such officers, returning from the lakeside, as were privileged to enter
the presence on such an occasion. But the stern voice of the
Captain-General produced no effect on the Mexicans, except, indeed, that
one of the three writers who had been all the time busily engaged, as
they squatted upon the floor, recording the speeches, in their
inexplicable manner, raised his eyes, when the Christian's voice was at
the highest, and eyed him askant for a minute or two. The Lord of Death
kept his glance firmly fixed on the aspect of the general, while
listening to the interpretation of his angry vows. Then, when Cortes had
concluded, he turned to the fourth pack, and resumed his discourse, as
if it were no part of his duty to reply to anything not immediately
touching his instructions.

"Hear, further, the words of Guatimozin," he said, pointing to an ear of
maize, a bundle of cacao-berries, a cluster of bananas, and divers other
fruits, as well as nuts and esculent roots, which appeared in the pack:
"Thus says the king of Mexico:--Is Castile a naked rock, where the food
of man grows not? Malintzin said to Montezuma, 'The land is like other
lands, with earth over the flint-stone, and with rivers to make it
fertile; soil comes down from the mountains, and heaven sends frequent
rains.' Look at Mexico: the sun parches it, till it becomes like sand,
half the year; the other half, the sky turns to water, and drowns the
gardens and corn-fields. But is man a dog, that he should howl when he
is hungry, and run abroad for food? God gave these good things to the
king; the king gives them to the Spaniard. Let him throw them upon the
earth, and sit hard by in patience, while the rain drops upon them; and,
by and by, he will have food for himself and his children: he will not
be hungry, and run forth, like a dog, to strange lands, seeking for
food.--Hear, further, the words of the king," continued the grave
barbarian, observing the impatience of Cortes, and turning his anger
into admiration, by suddenly displaying the contents of the fifth pack,
which consisted of divers ornaments and jewels of gold, with a huge
plate of extraordinary value, representing the sun: "Is there no yellow
dirt in Castile, to make playthings for the women and children? Thus
says the king: 'Let Malintzin take these things to his women and
children; and, lest they should, by and by, cry for more, let him send a
ship to Guatimozin, at the end of the _Tlalpilli_,[14] and more shall be
given him. Thus it shall be while Guatimozin lives; and thus it shall be
hereafter, if the king wills,--for what is Guatimozin, that he should
make a law for his successors?"

[Footnote 14: _Tlalpilli_--the quarter-cycle, or epoch of 13 years.]

The admiration with which the Captain-General surveyed the gorgeous
present, greatly moderated his disgust at the mode of making it. He
stepped down from the platform, and taking the massive disk into his
hands, gloated over its almost insupportable weight and dazzling
splendour, with the relish of one who seemed never to have felt any
passion less sordid than that of avarice. While thus engaged, ruddy at
once with delight and with the effort of sustaining such a precious
burthen, a paper was put into his hand, or rather held out for him to
receive, while a voice murmured in his ear,

"The award of the judges, sent to your excellency for confirmation."

The golden luminary fell, with a heavy clang, upon the floor, the flush
fled from his cheeks, and the look with which he turned to the untimely
and ill-omened messenger, Villafana, was even more ghastly with affright
than that which distinguished the aspect of the Alguazil.

"If your excellency thinks of mercy," continued the Alguazil, in the
same low and hurried voice,--"it is not yet too late. They have him on
the square, and are confessing him.--He has but a dog's life, and a
gnat's death, who puts them in the hands of De Olid."--

Cortes cast his eye upon the paper, and beheld, besides the date, a
preamble of two lines, and the signatures of the judges, the following
brief and pithy sentences:

     "Concealing a spy and fugitive from justice--Guilty.

     "Drawing sword upon a Christian--Guilty.

     "Resisting with arms an officer in the execution of his
     duty--Guilty.

     "Sentence--To be beheaded, his right hand struck off and nailed
     to the prison-door.--To take effect in half an hour.

     "In the name of God and the king.

     "DE OLID,

     "MARIN,

     "DE IRCIO."

"Butchers!" cried Cortes, with accents of unspeakable horror. "What ho,
a pen! a pen, knave! a pen!"

The agitation and violence of his voice surprised even the stoical
Mexicans; and the writers looking up, he became suddenly aware that the
implements with which they practised their rude art, would answer all
his purpose. Darting forward, he snatched from the hand of the nearest,
one of the many reeds which he held. The barbarian, although apparently
the oldest and most infirm of the three, mistaking the purpose of the
assault, started to his feet with a vivacity of effort, which, at any
other moment, would have drawn a sharp look of suspicion from the
Captain-General. But his thoughts were too much excited to be diverted
by any such seeming inconsistency.

It happened, by a natural accident, (for each reed was appropriated to
its peculiar colour,) that that which Cortes had seized contained a dark
crimson ink. Still, natural as the circumstance was, it had no sooner
touched the paper than he shuddered, and muttering 'Blood! blood!'
seemed as if he would have cast it away. But recovering himself in an
instant, with a faint and forced laugh, he subscribed the few words,

     "Confirmed.--Respite for twenty-four hours.

     "CORTES."

and putting the paper into Villafana's hands, he dismissed him with the
hurried charge,

"Away--see to it."

He then flung the reed back to the writer who had already resumed his
squatting attitude, and reascended the platform.

On those who surmised the cause of this sudden interruption, the
agitation of Don Hernan had the good effect of banishing from their
minds any lingering suspicions of his entertaining personal ill-will
towards the unfortunate Lerma. All went to show that he was shocked at
the young man's fate, and the necessity of ministering to it, even in
the simple act of confirming a judgment, awarded by others; but,
unhappily, the same feeling that exonerated the judge, still further
increased the odium attached to the criminal. How great, they thought,
must be the guilt of him whom it causes Cortes so much suffering to
condemn.--But the Captain-General, recovering himself, gave them little
time for such speculations.

"Well, infidel, thou speakest well," he cried, his voice becoming firmer
with each syllable; "What hidest thou in the sixth bundle?--or rather,
what if I should accept thy master's niggardly offer, and depart with
these baubles for women and children, as thou hast rightly called them?"

"Hear the words of Guatimozin," replied the ambassador, with a careless
emphasis, as if properly understanding the futility of the proposal,
and, indeed, with a look of scorn, as if learning to despise one capable
of Don Hernan's late weakness: "If Malintzin depart with the fifth pack,
cast the sixth into the lake, and tell him, that, in its place, he shall
have sent after him to the seaside, a thousand sacks of robes and four
thousand sacks of corn, to clothe and feed his people as they sail over
the endless sea. Say to him besides--"

"Pho," interrupted Cortes, "have done with this mummery, and get thee to
the sixth sack, which I am impatient to examine. What hast thou there?"

"The riches which are more precious to Mexico than the trinkets of her
children," replied the stately barbarian; and, as he spoke, he rolled
upon the floor, arrowheads and spearpoints of bright copper, sharp
blades of itzli and heavy maces of flint, which made up the contents of
the last bundle: "Hear the words of Guatimozin," he continued, with a
dignity of bearing that might have become a Spartan envoy in the camp of
the Persian; "thus says the king: 'What is the Lord of Castile, that
Guatimozin should call him master? what is Malintzin, that Guatimozin
should make him his friend? The Teuctli burns my cities, murders my
children, and spits in the face of my gods. His religion is murder, his
law robbery: he is strong, yet very unjust; he is wise, yet he makes men
mad. Guatimozin has called together the chiefs and the planters of corn,
the wise men and the foolish, the strong and the feeble, the old men,
the women and the children. He has spoken to them, and they have
replied: 'Is not the sword better than the whip? is not the arrow softer
than the brand? is not the fagot of fire pleasanter than the chain of
captivity? is not death sweeter than slavery?' Thus says the old
man,--'I am old; wherefore, then, should I be a slave for a day?' Thus
says the little infant,--'I am a little child; why should I be a slave
for many years?' This, then, is the word of the whole people; it is
Guatimozin who speaks it: 'If the gods desert me, what have I to yield
but life? if they help me, as they have helped my fathers, what have I
to do, but to drive away my foe? Let Malintzin look at my weapons, and
put two plates of the black-copper of Castile on his bosom, for I am
very strong in my sorrow, and I will strike very hard. Let Malintzin
fear: the rebels of Tezcuco and Cholula, the traitors of Chalco and
Otumba, are but straws to help him: can they look in the face of a
Mexican? Let Malintzin fear: is he stronger than when he fled from
Tenochtitlan, in the month of Mourning?[15] has not Mexico more fighting
men than when the horn of the gods sounded at midnight, and the Teuctli
sat on the stone and wept?--on the stone of Tacuba, by the water-side,
when the morning came, and his people slept in the ditches? If Malintzin
will fight, so will Guatimozin.' These are the words of the king; these
are the words of the people: they are said. The gods behold us."

[Footnote 15: Embracing a portion respectively of June and July, and
devoted to austere and penitential preparation for a coming festival.]

So spake the bold savage; and as if to show that even the basest and
feeblest shared his courage, and sanctioned his defiance, the very
Tlamémé looked around them with a show of spirit, and the three old men
expressed their satisfaction with audible murmurs.

The Spaniards were surprised at the fearless tones of the Lord of Death,
and not a few were impressed with alarm as well as anger, when he
referred so unceremoniously to the events of the fatal Noche Triste. As
for Cortes himself, though the frown with which he listened to the whole
oration, had become darker and darker as the warrior-noble proceeded,
yet, apparently, he had become sensible, both from the tenor of the
discourse and the resolute bearing of the speaker, that it should be
answered with gravity rather than anger. Hence, when he came to reply,
it was in terms briefly impressive and solemn:

"My young brother Guatimozin is unwise, and he is digging the grave of
his whole people. He has evil counsellors about him. I have somewhat to
say to him; and, to-morrow, you shall be sent back with an answer, which
will perhaps dispel his foolish dream of resistance."--He observed that
the Lord of Death looked displeased and even alarmed, when the
interpreter made him sensible that he was to be detained until the
morrow. "Be not alarmed," he continued, sternly: "when didst thou ever
hear of a Christian aping the treachery of thy native princes, and doing
wrong to an ambassador? I tell thee, fellow, infidel though thou be, I
will do thee honour, in respect of thy young master. To-morrow thou
shalt eat at my board, for it is a day of banqueting; and to-morrow,
also, shalt thou be made acquainted with my answer to the king's
message, which it is not possible I should speak to-day. Rest you then
content.--Hark thee, Villafana," (for the Alguazil had returned,) "have
thou charge of this bitter-tongued knave and his dumb companions.
Entreat them well, but see that they neither escape nor communicate with
anyone in this army, Christian or misbeliever. And look well to thy
prison too.--This knave, Techeechee,--bring him to me when thou changest
guards at the prison."

Then, breaking up the audience, he remained for a time in conference
with a few of the chief officers, debating subjects of great importance,
but which would be of no interest to the readers of this history.




CHAPTER XVIII.


Some two hours after nightfall, as the unhappy Lerma lay in darkness and
solitude, (for Befo was no longer permitted to be his companion,) the
door of the prison opened, and the Alguazil, Villafana, entered, bearing
a lantern, which emitted just sufficient light to allow his features to
be distinguished, together with what seemed a flask of wine--a luxury
now to be occasionally obtained, since vessels arrived not unfrequently
from the islands.

"How now, what cheer, señor?" he exclaimed, setting down the flask upon
the table, and turning the light full upon Juan's face; "are you saying
your prayers? Here's that shall give you better comfort,--something from
the vineyards of Xeres de la Frontera,--stout Sherry, that shall make
your heart bounce, were it broken twice over.--Come, faith, it will make
you merry."

"I shall never be merry more," said Juan; "and why should I? It is
better I should not. I thank you for your good-will, Villafana; but I
would that, instead of this wine, if it be not contrary to your duty,
you would fetch me the good father Olmedo, to finish the confession,
begun upon the block, and so abruptly interrupted, this morning."

"Pho, be not in such a hurry: you have time enough. The priest is busy,
and knowing he must shrive you to-morrow, he will be ill inclined to
trouble himself superfluously to-night. Come, sit up, drink, laugh, and
curse thy foes. Come, now,--a merry God's blessing! may you live a
thousand years!--Dzoog! bah! dzoog!--Now could I fight seven tigers!"

"It is better thou shouldst drink it than I," said Juan, observing the
strong and somewhat fantastic gestures with which the Alguazil expressed
his approbation, after having taken a hearty draught of the liquor; "yet
bethink thee, Villafana,--"

"'Slid!" interrupted the jailer, "bethink thyself! and bethink thee that
this will make thee a good fellow of a warhorse mettle, whereas, now,
thou art but a sick lambkin. What makes a beggar a king, hah? a tailor's
'prentice a Cid Ruy Diaz of Castile,--a doughty Campeador? Pho, there is
more of this, and to-morrow it will flow: Dost thou not know, Don
Demonios, our king, has invited us to a banquet to-morrow? Thou shalt
hear this banquet spoken of for a thousand years. Ah, the good ship! the
good ship! there is a better thing she brings us than wine.--But that is
neither here nor there. Why dost thou not drink?"

"Am I not condemned to death for the infraction of a decree?" said Juan,
somewhat sternly, for he thought he perceived in Villafana's levity a
symptom of undue excitement; "and dost thou not remember that there is a
decree also against drunkenness? Thou hast suffered somewhat from this
already."

"Dost thou suppose there is a hell?" said Villafana, with some such look
as that which had appalled Juan, when he walked with him over the
meadows beyond the city: "For, if thou dost, know then, that I make my
promise to the infernal fiend, to broil with him seven times seven
thousand years, if I do not, with a stab for every lash, make up my
reckoning with the man who degraded me! _Ojala_ and Amen!--So now,
there's enough to keep thee quiet.--Hast thou any gall any where but in
thy liver?"

"Thou art besotted, or insane, I think," said Juan, angrily. "I am a
dying man: begone, and suffer me to make my peace with heaven."

"Come, you think I am drunk," said Villafana, somewhat more rationally:
"I grant you; but it is with a stuff stronger than strong drink;--ay,
faith, for, to-morrow, I see my way to heaven!--Answer me, truly: have
you no thirst for vengeance on those who have brought you to this
pass?--You see I am sober, hah? One would not die like a sheep.--You may
play the wolf yet. What if you had an opportunity--"

"Tempt me not, knave," said Juan, turning away his face--"Avoid thee,
Satan!"

"What if I should knock open thy doors, and put a sword into thy hand?"
said Villafana, bending over, so as to whisper into his ear; "what
wouldst thou do with it?"

"Break it," replied the prisoner, wrapping his mantle about his head, as
if to shut out all further temptation.

"Thou art a fool," said the Alguazil, with a growl, and left the
apartment.

Juan heard his retreating steps, followed by the clanking of the chain,
which, with a strong padlock, on the outside, secured the door of the
prison; yet he neither raised his head, nor removed the mantle from his
face, but endeavoured to drive from his heart the thoughts of passion,
excited by the words of the tempter. From this gloomy task he was roused
by a soft voice, murmuring, as it seemed to him from the air, for he was
not aware of the presence of any human being in the apartment,--

"Does the Great Eagle fear the face of his friend?"

He started to his feet, and beheld in the light of the lantern, which
Villafana had left on the table, the figure of an ancient Indian,
standing hard by.

"Techeechee!" he exclaimed--"But no; thy speech is pure, thy tongue is
another's. Who art thou, gray-head of Mexico?"

"To-day, Cojotl, the cunning fox of scribes,--yesterday, Olin, the
tongue of nobles,--but before, and hereafter, Guatimozin, the friend of
the Great Eagle," replied the Indian, and as he spoke, he exchanged the
decrepit stoop of age for the lofty demeanour of youth, and parted the
gray locks which had hitherto almost concealed his countenance.

"Rash prince," said Juan, "will you yet wear the chains of Montezuma?
Why dost thou again entrust thyself among Spaniards?"

"How came the Great Eagle into the place of Guatimozin?" demanded the
young Mexican, expressively: "Shall he die for Guatimozin, and
Guatimozin stand afar off?"

"Alas, prince," said Juan, "thy friendship is noble, but can do me no
good. Leave this place, where thou art in great danger, and think of me
no more. I am beyond the reach of help. Think of thyself,--of thy
people, (for, surely, it is thy duty to protect them,) and depart while
thou canst."

"And what am I, that I should do this thing?" said Guatimozin. "Listen
to me, son of the day-spring: the children of Spain are wolves and
reptiles; the iztli is sharp for them, and it must not spare. But thou,
the young Eagle, shalt remain the friend of Guatimozin. Has not
Malintzin eaten of thy blood? is he not like the big tiger that takes by
the throat? and who shall draw him away? Canst thou remain, and smile on
another sunset? I bring thee liberty."

"How!" said Juan; "is Villafana this traitor, that he will permit me to
escape?"

"He is a rat with two faces," said the prince, significantly; "he fears
the wrath of Malintzin; he loves gold, but he says thou shalt not go
till to-morrow, and to-morrow thou wilt be in Mictlan, the world of
caves. But Guatimozin can do what the traitor Christian will not. The
Eagle is very brave: he shall kill his foe."

As Guatimozin spoke, he drew from his cloak a Spanish dagger, long,
sharp and exceedingly bright,--a relic of the spoils won from the
invaders in the Night of Sorrow,--and offered it to the prisoner,
adding,

"When I depart, a soldier will fasten the door. If thou art
strong-hearted, thou canst rush by, dealing him a blow. At the water's
edge, by the broken wall, thou wilt find a friend with a canoe; it is
Techeechee. Is not Tenochtitlan hard by? Guatimozin, the king of Mexico,
will make his friend welcome."

"Prince," said Juan, sadly, "this thing cannot be. Why should I strike
down the poor sentinel? He has done me no wrong. What would become of
thee? Thou couldst not escape. What would become of Villafana, who,
knave though he be, has yet done much to serve me? And what, to
conclude, would become of _me_, escaping from Christians, to take refuge
among thy unbelieving people? I can die, prince, but I can be neither
renegade nor apostate."

"Is there nothing in Tenochtitlan, that dwells in the thoughts of the
captive? I will be very good to thee; and thou shalt drink the blood of
thy foe."

"Prince," said Juan, firmly, "thine eye cannot search the soul of a
Christian. Malintzin has done me a great wrong, yet would I not harm a
hair of his head; no, heaven is my witness! I can forgive him even my
death, however unjust and cruel."

"It is a dove of Cholula that speaks in the voice of my friend," said
the infidel, struck with as much disdain as surprise at the want of
spirit, which his barbarous code of honour discovered in a lack of
vindictiveness: "Is a man a worm that he should be trampled on?"

"No," said Juan, bitterly,--for he could not resist his feelings of
indignation, when he suffered himself to consider his degradation in
this light. "Had I resisted him in his first anger, had I resented his
first injustice, had I provoked him by any complaint, then might I think
of his course with submission. But I have not; I have been, indeed, as
thou sayest, a worm, at all times helpless, at all times unresisting.
Others have complained, some have defied him, but they passed
unpunished. I, who have yielded, like a woman, escape not: I creep from
the path of his anger, but his foot follows me,--turn which way I will,
it crushes me. Even Befo will show his teeth sometimes--I have seen him
growl when Cortes struck him--and by mine honour, I think he struck him,
because he was once mine!"

How far, by indulging such thoughts, he might have wrought himself into
the very spirit which Guatimozin was surprised to find absent, we will
not venture to say. He was interrupted by the sudden re-entrance of
Villafana, who immediately exclaimed,

"Will you have my brother Najara diving in upon you? Pho, you talk too
loud: 'tis well you were gabbling in Mexican. Hark ye, Olin, you knave,
get you gone! to your den, sirrah!--Pray, señor Juan, tell this rascal,
in his own gibberish, that he cannot remain a moment longer from his
lock-up, without being discovered.--Come, fellow, come: you shall have
more talk to-morrow."

So saying, the Alguazil conducted the Mexican away. A few moments after,
he returned alone. Juan, still disordered and brooding over his wrongs,
paced to and fro over the narrow limits of his cell. His agitation
Increased with each step, and, at last, finding that Villafana did not
speak, he exclaimed,

"Come, Villafana,--I know what thou wilt say,--am I not used dog-like?
He disdained even to sit upon the trial, to ask me what I had to urge in
excuse of my folly; but left this to judges, who were content to ask
'Didst thou this?' and 'Didst thou that?' without permitting me a word
of defence. Surely, I had much provocation in the matter of Guzman; and
as for the decree, it should have been remembered, that I was come into
the camp too short a time to have made it as fast in my mind as others,
who had heard it daily proclaimed for months. I must die for this!--die
like a hunted assassin!--my hand stuck against the prison-door, my body
given, perhaps, to fatten the lean hogs that will fatten my judges! Oh,
by heaven, this is intolerable to think on!"

"Thou wilt believe, now, that thou wert sent to the South Sea for no
good?"

"Ay, I will believe anything," said Juan, in increasing excitement. "And
_this_ too! scarce an hour returned from my sufferings, endured for
him,--endured to regain his good-will! Ay, and before I had done
speaking, he would have sent me to Mexico, to be sacrificed
there!--before I had eaten and drunk! before I had rested my wearied
body, before I had recruited my exhausted strength!--Tell me, Villafana!
was it not by his design I was entrapped into giving shelter to--But,
no! that could not be; in that, at least, he must be innocent. But, in
the rest, it is oppression, grinding, intolerable oppression!"

"Well, I marvel he did not let thee off with a scourging," said
Villafana, swallowing another draught from the neglected flask. "Come,
drink, and we will discourse together."

"A scourging!" said Juan, seizing the Alguazil's arm with a grasp which
showed that imprisonment and sorrow had not altogether robbed him of
strength; "dare you talk to me of scourging?"

"Ay, marry," said Villafana, whose object seemed to be to excite the
slumbering fury of the young man, and who now, in the effect of a word
used for another purpose, discovered a point on which his equanimity was
not impregnable; "ay, faith; for the whole army cries out upon his
barbarity, saying that he is murdering you; so that he already talks of
letting you off with a scourging.--He was as good with me."

"By the saints of heaven!" cried Juan, snatching up the dagger which
Guatimozin had left, and striking it into the table with a fury which
split the plank in twain, "were it his own, I would drive this steel
into the breast of the man that designed me such dishonour. Scourge me!
Thanks be to heaven, that sends this weapon!"

"Oho, señor!" said Villafana, with counterfeited indignation, "you will
resist, will you! Hah! and you have a dagger, too! Come, señor, give it
up."

"Fool," said the prisoner, "thy bitter words have unchained me at last,
and driven me to desperation. I will not yield this weapon but with my
life. Wo betide him that comes to me with a scourge, were it Don Hernan
himself!"

"You will resist him then?--Why now you are a man again! Sit down; fear
not: you shall have a better weapon. Come, let us drink a little: 'tis a
raw night, and rainy. Here's success to our vengeance--a quart of blood
apiece! Methinks, you are more wronged than myself--Therefore, you shall
strike the first blow. I give you this privilege, out of friendship. The
second is mine."

While Villafana held forth in these extraordinary terms, Juan, shocked
into composure, became aware that the wine, which the Alguazil plied
with characteristic infatuation, had already made serious inroads upon
his brain. He ogled and smiled, with a stupid contortion of countenance,
which was meant to be significant; his articulation was impeded, and his
expressions coarser than usual; and without being positively drunk, he
was reduced to that condition in which the natural propensities get the
better of all artificial qualities. Hence, he became fierce and
bloody-minded, without displaying any of the subtle cautiousness and
cunning inquisitiveness, that were common to him in his sober hours. It
was for this reason that he proceeded to unfold the secrets of his
breast, without being in any degree abashed by the looks of horror, with
which Juan heard him.

"Know then, brother Juan," said he, "that thou shalt lap the blood of
Don Demonios to-morrow morning, at the banquet-table; and afterwards
hang up Guzman with thine own hands. Thou art too white-livered, or thou
shouldst have known of the matter earlier. Also, thou shalt have thy
fair nun again, as before:--that is, upon condition she likes thee
better than me; which may be, or may not, for who can tell whether the
star will shoot into the marsh, or fall upon the mountain?--Bah! it is a
pity I brought thee not another flagon. Busta! I will drink no more; for
this is no time to be thick-witted.--Know then, _Juanito querido_, we
have brought our conspiracy to a head; and out of the nine hundred
Christians in this town there are two hundred and forty sworn on dirk,
buckler, and crucifix, to our whole game,--three hundred, who will wink
and stand by, till the play is over,--three hundred who will swear faith
to the devil himself, when Don Demonios lies hid in his pocket,--and as
for the rest, why we must e'en have some hanging and stabbing."

"In heaven's name," said Juan, "what dost thou mean? Art thou really
mad? Bethink thee what thou art saying!"

"Hah!" cried Villafana, "wilt thou skulk backwards, after all? Dost thou
pretend to oppose us? We had some thoughts of making thee one of the
three chief captains. This Olea stands to; for he swears thou art the
best leader in the camp."

"Is Gaspar sworn among you?" said Juan, with a faint voice, his
detestation of the bloody scheme arousing him to the necessity of
sifting it to the bottom--for he forgot his captivity, and thought only
of arresting the progress of a treason so fearful.

"Ay," returned the Alguazil; "and better men than he. Come, clap thy
name to the paper, and I swear thou shalt have a command among us,
though I should kill thy rival-candidate Gil Gonzales, with my own hand.
Dost thou not know these fellows? We have hidalgos among us."

As he spoke, he pulled from his bosom a paper, on which Juan read with
affright the names of several men of rank, mingled with those of common
soldiers, with many of which he was familiar. His first thought was to
secure this dreadful list, and calling to the guards about the prison,
arrest the Alguazil upon the spot. A moment's consideration determined
him to take further advantage of the communicativeness of the traitor,
until made acquainted with all the details of the conspiracy. He bridled
his anger, therefore, and concealing his horror under an appearance of
doubt and hesitation, to which his trembling agitation gave no little
force, he said,

"How is this? Are these names good and true?"--

"See you not Barba Roxa's sign-manual, near the bottom of the list? He
subscribed it last night. He draws the figure of a knife well, as one
who knows how to use it. But as for thee, _niño mio_, thou art able to
write thy signature in full."

"Stay," cried Juan. "What are you to do? You spoke of a banquet, and the
morning. Assassination, hah?"

"Did I not tell thee before? Look," said the Alguazil, with a harsh
laugh, displaying a letter, well secured with wax and fillet, on which
was written the name of the Captain-General. "Know, that this letter,
written carefully on the outside, by mine own hand, (for there is
nothing within,) comes from the señor's sire, old Don Martin, whom the
devil take to his rest, for fathering so ill-tempered a son. This
letter, thou must know," he went on with a chuckle of self-approving
craft, "came in the ship of Seville that brought this good wine, and
was, by an evil accident, detained on the way. Know, sirrah, and this is
my device: The general hath forgotten to invite me to his feast
to-morrow, in honour of his saint-day, or some other thing--_Quien
sabe?_ It is very rude. But he has invited all my caballeros on this
paper, and some four score soldiers, who are down likewise. The rest
will take their ease in the vestibule, and on the square, to be ready.
What do I then? Marry, this: I break in upon the revel with the letter
in my hand, and a dagger in my sleeve; the others crowd round with
congratulations, and I strike him under the ribs--Pho! I forgot; thou
canst not have the _first_ blow, as I promised thee; but thou shalt
follow, cloaked up to the eyes, and be free to take the second.--What
dost thou think of my plot, hah, dear devil? Hah!--"

"That it is the most damnable and dastardly ever devised by villain, and
shall bring thee to a villain's death. Rogue! didst thou think thou
couldst tell this to _me_, and live? I have thy treason in my hand, and
will use it as it becomes an honourable man and Christian. What ho,
guards! treason, treason!"

Greatly astounded as Villafana was by this unexpected defection, the
shock served rather to sober than affright him. He gave the prisoner a
look of unspeakable malice, and whipping out his sword and calling for
help as clamorously as Juan, he assaulted him with the utmost fury. At
the same time, five or six of the guardsmen rushed in, and to Juan's
utter dismay, instead of aiding him to secure the Alguazil, rushed upon
him, some with their spears, to transfix him against the wall, while
others, springing behind him, secured him in their arms, and hurled him
upon the floor. In an instant, he had lost both the fatal list and the
dagger of Guatimozin, and was at the mercy of Villafana, who knelt upon
his breast, and shortened his sword, to despatch him with a thrust. But
at the very moment when he had given up all hope, and was commending his
soul to his Maker, the savage and exulting laugh with which the Alguazil
aimed at his throat, was changed to an exclamation of alarm and pain. Up
started the assassin, and Juan, springing also to his feet, he beheld,
with surprise, the figure of La Monjonaza standing betwixt him and the
assailants. The gray mantle had fallen from her head and shoulders,
revealing a form of the finest symmetry, and a countenance convulsed
into beauty, such as might have become a warring Bellona; to whom she
might have been well compared, only that in place of the whip and torch
which a moralizing mythology has put into the hands of the goddess, she
held an emblem equally expressive, in a short dagger, gleaming with
blood from the shoulder of Villafana.

"Villain!" she cried, after looking as if she would have repeated the
blow, "art thou not yet requited? Begone!"

And the discomfited traitor, scowling and pointing at the blood
trickling from his arm, and yet obviously quailing before her stern
frown, left the prison, followed by the guards, who seemed even more
terrified than himself.




CHAPTER XIX.


Juan stood, for a moment, confounded in the presence of his preserver;
and Magdalena, gradually exchanging her fierce expression for one more
becoming her sex, appeared at last, as he had seen her before, pale,
saddened, and subdued. As she sank into this softened temper, her eye
fell upon the crimsoned blade; and it was curious to see with what
feminine horror, disgust, and shame, she cast it from her, and to
contrast this display of undissembled feelings with her late Amazonian
bearing and act.

"Magdalena," said Juan, a thousand emotions at once contending in his
bosom, "you have saved my life. Haste now and protect that of Cortes:
for, be it dear to thee or not, yet it is not fitting he should be left
to the knife of an assassin. Acquaint him from me--Nay, bear it not from
_me_; for I will not seem as if I sought to purchase my life with the
confession--Acquaint him that a dreadful conspiracy, headed by the knave
Villafana, is about to burst upon his head. If he seizes not the traitor
to-night, let him beware who approaches the banquet to-morrow. Above
all, let him be on his guard against any one who affects to bring
letters from his father. Haste, maiden, haste! for perhaps Villafana,
wrought upon by his fears, may discharge his train of horrors this very
night."

"Dost thou thus seek to preserve him who has so basely compassed thine
own life?" said Magdalena, less with surprise than sorrowing admiration.
"Think not of Cortes, but of thyself: thou hast not many hours for
thought."

"Alas, Magdalena," said Juan, impatiently, "you do not believe me. I
swear to you, that what I say is true: Villafana is a traitor, and is
now on the point of assassinating the Captain-General."

"If he were about assassinating thee, and the Captain-General knew it,
what aid wouldst thou expect from the Captain-General?" rejoined La
Monjonaza.

"Maiden!" said Juan, frowning severely, "in this coldness of purpose,
now that thou art acquainted with the act, thou art conniving at
murder!"

Apparently this reproof touched Magdalena to the quick. She started,
shuddered, and turned as if to leave the prison; but changing her
purpose, stepping up to the light, and assuming a boldness which she did
not feel, she falteringly asked,

"Is there no case, in which such connivance might be excusable? But a
moment since," (and here she bent her head upon her bosom,) "I was about
to _commit_ murder--Had I slain Villafana, wouldst thou then have
thought the act criminal?"

"Surely not, surely not," said Juan; "for, in this case, thou wert
arresting the blow of a cut-throat, to kill whom in the act, were but
sheer justice, and according to law. And yet I would that the blow had
been struck by another. It is not seemly for a woman to carry a dagger,
and still more improper that she should use it."

"What if she be attacked by a villain, and no helper nigh?" demanded the
forlorn girl. "Heaven has given me no protector--My father, my brother,
and my friend--they all lie in this little steel;" and as she picked up
the weapon from the floor, as if no longer ashamed to bear it, a ghastly
smile beamed from her visage, like the flash of a Medusa amid the foam
of a midnight billow.

"Speak no more of Cortes," she continued, observing that Juan was about
to resume the subject of the conspiracy; "he is far better able to
protect himself than thou. Were there twenty poniards in Villafana's
hand, and were his arm as extended as his malice, yet could he not reach
even to the heel of Don Hernan. His fate is written,--yes, more
inevitably than thine; for thou hast yet one hope of deliverance, and
Villafana has none.--Listen to me, Juan Lerma; it is perhaps the last
time on earth that I shall speak to thee. If thou reject mine offer this
night, I call heaven to witness that I will leave thee to thy fate."

"Magdalena," said Juan, firmly, "we have spoken of this before. God
protect thee, for there is a wall of adamant between us."

"Be it so," said the lady; "and let it be higher than thy wishes, deeper
than thy scorn, so thou wilt leave this land, and return to it no more."

"On the morrow, Magdalena, I die," said Lerma, with unabated resolution.
"Hear then the counsel of a dying man, who can yet call himself your
friend. Do what you have recommended to me: leave this land, and, in the
gloom of a cloister, expiate--"

"Yet again?" exclaimed the maiden, with an eye of fire. "This is to
distract me! Oh, if thou knew how unjustly thou hast planted daggers in
my bosom--daggers to which this thing of steel is but as the thorn of a
rosebud--thou wouldst kill thyself, rather than speak them again! But it
matters not: whether thou livest or diest, still must thou know that I
am wronged.--Listen to me--I will speak of Hilario.--"

"Let it not be so," said Juan; and then solemnly added, "Learn that,
yesternight, the wretched Villafana, who, by some magical science, seems
acquainted with the secrets of all in this camp, gave me to know what I
did not before dream. Magdalena, when I plucked thee from the wreck, I
dreamed, for a moment, that I loved thee--" The maiden trembled from
head to foot, and Juan was himself greatly agitated; "I beheld one, in
whom, from the act of giving her a life, I might fancy a tie, such as
did not exist between me and any other human being, from the time of the
death of my poor father up to that happy hour. But had that affection
ripened even into such as Hilario avowed,"--(Here Magdalena waved her
hand impatiently;) "nay, had I plighted with thee faith and troth, and
did we stand this moment before the altar, my passion would be at once
changed to awe and horror, to know that I was wedding the spouse of
Heaven. Magdalena, a life of penitence can scarcely remove the sin of
broken vows!"'

"Say not this," exclaimed the unhappy Magdalena, vehemently: "What knew
I of earth or heaven, when, imprisoned in a cell from childhood upwards,
I gave up the one for the other? Heaven broke the oath which oppressors
exacted; else, wherefore was I saved of all the sisters, and thrown upon
a land where cloisters were unknown? For these vows could I have
procured a dispensation. Hast thou never heard of such being dissolved?"

"Surely I have," said Juan, mildly, desiring to allay the agitation of
his visitor: "It was told to me, by Villafana, that the señor Camarga
(an insane man, who made an attempt on my life,) was once a monk of St.
Dominic and an Inquisitor, and permitted to revoke his vows for some
worldly purpose, I know not what; and I have heard it also said, that
the sister of Don Hernan was allowed to leave a nunnery, to wed some
great nobleman of Andalusia."

"It is enough," said Magdalena, calmly, "the vow was suspended, not
broken; it will be resumed, when the purpose for which I now live, is
accomplished, and would have been before, but for the accident which
brought me to this land.--Juan Lerma, I will not ask thee why thou
refusest life at my hands: but it is offered thee by one wronged and
defamed, not degraded. If thou live, it is well thou shouldst know the
truth, and remember me without contempt; if thou die, the grave shall
not cover thee in ignorance. Hilario--Start not, frown not, tremble not,
for the truth must be spoken--Hilario abused thy belief, that he might
break my heart, and perhaps, also, thine; for he hated me, because I
repelled his love with contempt, and thee, because he knew--because he
suspected,--that thou wert the cause. You fought; he fell,--and, with
what seemed his dying lips, (for, even in death, his spite was not
diminished,) repeated the demoniacal falsehood; boasting of the
degradation of one whose only shame was that she did not requite his
presumption with a dagger!"

Again the figure of the unhappy girl was elevated by passion into the
port of a destroying deity. But she perceived that Juan was shocked by a
display of fire so unwomanly and, indeed, so fearful; and this instantly
transformed her into another being:

"This too, _this_ too," she cried, shedding tears of humiliation, "this,
too, is a consequence of his malice, for it has converted me into the
thing I am not,--into what seems a fury or a demon. Dost thou believe I
am--dost thou believe I _was_ a creature formed of passions, that should
belong only to men? No! oh heaven, oh no! it is the madness that comes
from the viper's tooth. Stung, vilified, robbed of respect and
happiness, how even can a woman sit down in peace, unless she can die?
unless she can die? She will have her vengeance, believe it; and well is
it for her, when it is won by the hands of a brother or sire.--Yet,
believe this, if thou wilt, for I am not what I was; believe
aught,--anything, save the lies of Hilario. With his dying lips he
defamed me--with his dying hand he revoked the slander, and avowed
himself a villain. Behold the refutation of calumny."

As she spoke, she drew from her bosom, with a trembling grasp, and put
into Juan's, a scrap of paper, on which he read, with extreme surprise,
the following words, traced with a hand feeble and agitated, yet well
known to him,--

     "What I have said of Magdalena del Naufragio," (or Magdalena of
     the Wreck, for by this name she was known at Isabela,) "is
     false. In malice and folly I have laid perjury on my soul; and,
     as I now speak the truth, I pray heaven to forgive me.--Amen.

     "ANTONIO DEL MILAGRO."

"Good heaven!" said Juan, "is it possible Antonio could commit this
dastardly crime? Alas, Magdalena, I _have_ done you a grievous wrong,
and I beseech you, pardon me.--This thing was not only wicked, but
marvellous. The paper is stained with blood--The saints acquit me of his
death, for it was I who shed it! I am glad he died penitent--What
brought him to this justice? I held my dagger to his throat, yet he
cried, with a devilish malice and courage, 'Strike, for--' But I will
not repeat his sinful and exulting falsehoods.--Alas, that his blood
should be upon my soul! the blood of his father's son!"

Magdalena surveyed the self-accusing looks of the prisoner, with much
emotion; and twice or thrice she opened her lips, to give him comfort,
or to continue her dark and singular story, and yet failed, as many
times, to speak. At last, she clasped her hands upon her bosom, as if,
by an effort of physical strength, to give support and resolution to her
heart, and said, with low and interrupted accents,

"Lament no more for a sin thou hast not committed. Thou wert
deceived--Hilario died not by thy hands."

"Hah!" exclaimed Juan, "dost thou tell me the truth? Is Hilario yet
living? God be thanked! God be thanked! for I am not a murderer!"

He fell upon his knees, and looking up to heaven with joy, beheld not
the grief and trepidation with which his companion surveyed his
raptures.

"I told thee, not that he lived, but that thou didst not slay him," said
the nun, with an effort.--"Had my father come to my side, and looked
upon this paper, after hearing the story of Hilario's baseness, what
think you he should have done?"

"Killed him, I must allow," said Juan, rising to his feet; "for even his
deep penitence could scarcely be permitted to stand as the sole penalty
of such an offence.--Alas, Magdalena, my mind is beset with sore
misgivings. How was that paper obtained? How did Hilario die? Thou
growest pale! Heaven shield me! didst thou, didst _thou_--?"

He paused with terror. The maiden replied instantly, and almost with
firmness:

"Hear the truth, even to the last syllable; for even _thy_ good opinion
I will not purchase by subterfuge. To Villafana,--a wretch, whose
manifold villanies thou couldst not dream, (for know, that, being a
sailor in the ship that bore the unlucky sisters, he devised and
accomplished its destruction, that he might impiously obtain the holy
vessels of silver and gold--Ay, it was Villafana, and not the tempest,
that drove us upon the rocks of Alonso--) to Villafana, from whom I
learned the cause of the duel and of thy flight, I committed the charge
of obtaining this recantation.--Was this wrong?" she exclaimed, giving
way to affright, for Juan's looks of horror could not be mistaken: "they
were two fiends together,--the villain struck the villain,--the--"

"Murderess! murderess!" cried Juan aloud, recoiling from her.

A ghastly smile passed over her countenance, and it grew into a faint
laugh, which, to Juan's mistaken eye, (for he thought it the merriment
of satisfaction or indifference,) seemed unnatural and dreadful, while
she replied, her voice hysterically belying her feelings, as much as did
her countenance,

"Thou dost not think I employed him to do murder? I appeal to heaven, I
did not dream he would do aught but compel the recantation from the
wounded man.--What! bid him kill one so defenceless! Had he been strong
and well armed, then perhaps, indeed,--then perhaps, I might have
thought it. I sought but for the paper; the rest was the deed of
Villafana."

"Oh heaven! oh holy heaven!" cried Juan; "speak not another word: rather
let me die than hear more. Away! avaunt! thou art not a woman, but a
fiend! and all is now as it was, and worse.--What, blood-stained!
blood-stained!"--

Magdalena strode towards him, striving to speak, but could only utter
the words, 'Injustice! injustice!' mingled with the charge, 'Leave
Mexico,' that still made a part of her perturbed thoughts. Had not Juan
been entirely overwhelmed by his horror, he must have observed, that her
mind was, at this moment, convulsed beyond the degree of any former
agitation; that she was, in fact, in a condition both alarming and
pitiable. Her countenance was most deathlike, her accents wholly
unnatural, and there was something of delirium or idiotcy in the manner
with which, while still muttering the broken reproof, 'Injustice,' and
the charge, 'Leave Mexico,' she, all the while, extended the
blood-stained paper, as if entreating him again to receive and peruse
it.

As it was, he gave utterance to his horror in the words,--

"Miserable woman! the denial forced from the lips of the murdered man,
is of a piece with the spirit that compelled it--False, false, all!"

At these words, the paper dropped from her hands, another vacant smile
distorted her visage, and she turned to depart; but before she had taken
two steps, she tottered, and fell to the floor, with a dreadful scream,
that instantly brought the guards into the prison.

The absorbing nature of their conversation had, for the last two or
three moments, rendered both incapable of observing that some scene of
altercation had suddenly arisen at the dungeon door. High voices might
be heard, as of one alternately entreating and demanding admittance,
which was gruffly denied by others. The shriek of Magdalena, ringing in
their ears like a cry of death, brought the contention to an end; and
all rushing in together, they beheld Juan endeavouring to raise the
figure of his unhappy and lifeless guest from the floor.

"_Dios mio! y peccavi!_ I will kill him where he stands," exclaimed one,
rushing forward.

"Not so fast, señor Camarga," cried the hunchback, who was at the head
of all, snatching the weapon from the hands of this individual, who
seemed peculiarly to thirst for the blood of the young islander. "Here's
work for the bastinado! Where's Villafana, ye treacherous dogs, that let
women into the prison? He shall pay for it.--Harkee, señor Camarga; if
you have any interest in this fair lady, you may help bear her to the
palace. Poor fool! these women love as arquebuses shoot: if you make
them any obstruction, they burst in your hands--and this is truer still
of a musket, if you thrust it into the earth. In mine own opinion, the
young hound has scorned her."

While Najara gave vent to these growling observations, Magdalena was
carried out of the prison. The hunchback had reached the door, before
Juan, in the confusion of the moment, thought of calling him back, to
impart to him the secret of the treachery. But Najara replied only with
a malediction, and departed with the lantern; so that Juan was again
left to night and solitude.




CHAPTER XX.


Meanwhile, a scene of still more tragical character was on the point of
being represented within the walls of the palace.

It was a tempestuous night. The clouds, which had all day enveloped the
pagan metropolis, were, at last, gathered over Tezcuco. The wind blew in
gusts, with frequent rain; and as the distant thunderbolts rolled with a
rumbling cadence over Mexico, vast sheets of lightning shot up in the
west, illuminating sky, lake, and mountain, with a cadaverous glare.

Some five or six of the principal cavaliers were assembled with Cortes,
in the great Hall of Audience, engaged in earnest and anxious debate. It
happened, by accident, that the huge curtain, which, at night, was
usually drawn over the window of alabaster, had been, this evening,
neglected by the attendants; so that it remained, drooping in gigantic
festoons from the great beam, carved into a serpent's head, which held
it at the top, down to the lesser ornaments that supported it on the
sides, of the casement. The strong cords, by which it could be dragged
into its place, hung over the central beam, flapping occasionally
against the alabaster wall, as the gust, puffing in through the great
door, whirled the smoke and flame of the lamps and torches, from the
walls and pillars, to which they were attached.

Thus, though the alabaster slabs were too thick to transmit any ordinary
ray, the brighter flashes of lightning made their way through, and
added, at times, a ghastly glare to the light of the lamps; in which the
countenances of the cavaliers, perturbed as they were, assumed such an
unnatural hue as might have beseemed the ghosts of dead heroes, rising
to earth, to meddle again in the sport of slaughter.

The visage of the Captain-General betrayed greater anxiety, mingled with
sterner wrath, than appeared on any other; and when he spoke, it was in
accents brief and low, and exceedingly emphatic.

"I tell you, cavaliers," he cried, "the mystery that shrouds this
treason is more frightful than the treason itself. We are at fault,
señores, we are at fault. We behold enough to show us that the devils
are at work about us, but not to discover in what mode they are toiling.
It is clear enough that Villafana is a dog, and one day he shall hang;
but I know not, in what manner, nor at what time, he will bite. This is
certain: he has suffered one of the Mexicans to leave his cell, and
communicate with Xicotencal: it is certain, also, that this cur of
Tlascala will leave the camp before day-dawn; and how many of his
warriors will follow after him, that I leave you to conjecture. This I
have from a true mouth. He is incensed, first, on account of Juan Lerma;
and, secondly, I doubt not, the Mexican has made the most of his
growling temper and present discontent. What sayst thou, Sandoval? What
hinders thee to lie in wait, and, following at his heels, so do with
him, that his Tlascalans who desert afterwards, may be frightened on the
path, and so return to us? There are good trees on the wayside!"

"Ay," replied Don Gonzalo, grimly, "when there is any executioner's work
towards, I am sure to play jack-ketch. I am loath to deal with a man
that hath been so valiant; but if he be a traitor, it is right he should
die. What if I give him the bastinado, Turk-wise? Methinks that would
bring him into a sounder temper."

"It would but inflame the choler of his proud people," said the shrewder
general; "whereas his sudden death, dealt upon him in the act of
desertion, will strike them with fear. Take thou a rope with thee, my
son, and fear not to use it."

The young cavalier nodded assent; and the general went on:

"Concerning the ambassadors, thus secretly treating with a traitor,
methinks they have forfeited all claim to protection?"

"Ay," said Alvarado; "and the bastinado, of which Sandoval spake, may
serve the good purpose of opening their lips, and thereby revealing, not
only the depth of the Tlascalan defection, but the length to which
Villafana and his curs have gone with them. Let us send for them, and
try the experiment. Or stay--here are cords enough on the curtain. One
of these, twisted round the brow with a sword-hilt, I have known to
bring out a man's tongue as far as his eyes."

The cavaliers turned to the window; and the bitter smile of the
Captain-General was made deathlike, by a flash, brighter than usual,
shooting through the wall.

"A good thought," he said; "but we will not be precipitate. We have them
secured; and however Villafana may permit them to speak with others, he
is somewhat too wise to set them free. We will have this thing
considered in the morning."

At this moment, Don Francisco de Guzman made his appearance in the
chamber, his visage disfigured by a black patch, and somewhat pale. But
this, as it was soon discovered, was caused rather by care than
sickness.

"Señor," he exclaimed, "I have been to seek the ambassadors--They have
escaped!"

"Escaped!" echoed Cortes. "Thou art beside thyself! And the villain
Alguazil, has he fled with them? I will tear his flesh with pincers!
What! release the infidels, under my eye?"

"So please you," said Guzman, "this, I think, was no resolved treachery,
but an effect of infatuation. The wine that came to us to-day, was too
strong for the watchmen: where they got it, I know not; but I found them
sound asleep at the open door."

"They shall be scourged, till they drop more blood than they have drunk
wine," said Don Hernan, furiously. "And the prison-guards also? Hah? The
prisoner has escaped?"

"Not so," said the cavalier: "all's well there, save--"

"And Villafana? Speak me the word--Has he fled?"

"Señor mio, no: he is in the prison, carousing with Juan Lerma, as the
guards say. I heard his voice through the door."

"Carousing? does Juan Lerma take his death so merrily? By'r lady, devil
as he is, it is a sin to slay him!"

"As to the prisoner," said Guzman, "I know not whether he be merry or
not; but I myself (for I had mine ear to the door,) heard Villafana
smack his lips, and vow he 'would drink no more, this being no time to
be thick-witted.' But every one knows Villafana: his bibbing once
brought him to the strappado."

"Ay; and it shall bring him to the gallows.--It is the fate of the
can-clinker--all spoken in three words--drunk, whipped, and
gibbeted!--Didst thou worm naught from the guards? They were of his own
appointing."

"Not a syllable," replied Guzman: "I do believe they have been too much
frightened, and are now penitent men."

"It may be," said Cortes, "it may be; but I would I could look into the
dreams of Villafana. If I punish him for the flight of the ambassadors,
it may be that I disperse an imposthume before it comes to a head; or it
may prove, that I drive the matter into the more vital organs of this
body politic, till all be corrupted and consumed. What say ye to a
little torture inflicted on Villafana himself? Yet he is a bold dog, and
may not speak. They say he winced not under the lash. I swear to you, my
friends, I am in a strait."

While Cortes thus admitted the difficulty in which he felt himself
pressed, and the cavaliers were divided in their counsels, they
perceived a common soldier intrude himself into the chamber, and boldly
approach them.

"Hah!" cried Alvarado, ever hot of temper, "who art thou, Sir
Gallows-bird, that bringest thy knave's pate among cavaliers in
council?"

"Hold! touch him not; 'tis the Barba-Roxa!" exclaimed Don Hernan. "What
impertinence is this, sirrah? Who bade thee hitherward?"

"God and my good saint," said Gaspar, flinging himself on his knees, and
adding, with the greatest impetuosity, "Pardon, señor! pardon for two
unhappy men! Or if that cannot be, why pardon then for _one_; and I care
not how soon you hang up the others."

"What means the fool? Art thou distracted?"

"Señor!" cried the soldier, wringing his hands, "I am a knave and
traitor. Grant me the life of Juan Lerma, who meant you no wrong, and I
will give you, for the rope and sword, two hundred and forty such
traitors as the world never saw, and myself among them; for I have
signed my name with knife and arrow, and sworn myself to brotherhood,
under the pains of hell, which I care not how soon may came upon me."

"Let some one of you look to the door," said Cortes, quickly: "and see
that the sentinels keep their eyes open.--How now, Gaspar! what is this
thou sayst? Art thou indeed a villain? I should have struck on the mouth
any soldier that had said it of thee."

"I am what I said," replied Gaspar; "your excellency refused to listen
to me, when I pleaded for Juan Lerma; and I was incensed. I said to
myself, señor, 'I have saved your life, and yet you deny me the life of
my friend, who, in ignorance, broke a decree, yet knew no malice.'
Besides, señor, you called me a dog,--'an officious, presuming dog;'
whereas I was not a dog _then_, but _now_. Well, señor, while I was in a
passion, the devil came to me, and tempted me, and I signed my name to
my perdition."

"What!" said Alvarado, recoiling with devout horror, "hast thou really
signed over thy soul to Satan? We will burn thee, thou devil's penitent,
in a hot fire!"

"Speak on," said Cortes. "What meanest thou by this mummery? What devil
is this? for, though Satan be walking now among us, yet, I think, it
could not be he."

"It was Villafana," replied Gaspar; "and heaven pardon me, for I think
it must be Apollyon in his likeness!"

At this communication, the cavaliers all stared at one another, and
Cortes exclaimed,

"Two hundred and forty men! What! are there so many knaves of his
party?"

"Ay, and many more, who will help, but will not put down their names
upon paper," replied Gaspar. "But your excellency says nothing of Juan
Lerma. If you will pardon him, your excellency shall hear all."

"How, sirrah!" cried Cortes, sternly, "Do you avow yourself a sworn
traitor, and yet dictate to me terms of mercy? Speak, or you shall have
that to your brows, which will bring out words with screams."

Gaspar sprang to his feet,--boldly, fearlessly, and even insolently,
returning the look of the Captain-General:

"Your excellency has no heart, and I have," he cried. "Do your will upon
us both; and reckon my death to your conscience, as you do that of Juan
Lerma. You shall not have a word more. Here are my arms.--What cavalier
will demean himself to tie them? I will meet your excellency at the
judgment-seat."

"Thou art but a fool," said Cortes, moderating his anger,--or, at least,
mollifying the severity of his accents; for his countenance yet gleamed
with wrath. "Thou knowest, that, having saved my life at Xochimilco, I
can, in no case, take thine."

"But I leave that to the laws, without asking any mercy," said the Red
Beard, obstinately: "I ask the life of Juan Lerma, condemned without
law."

"Dost thou impugn my justice, fellow?" cried the ferocious De Olid. "I
swear to thee, when thou art brought to be judged, I will give thee a
double quantity, for this very reason."

While the cavalier gave utterance to so excellent a proof of his equity,
Alvarado, with whom Gaspar had been a favourite, whispered in his ear,

"Speak out, and fear not. It stands not with the captain's honour to
barter men's lives for knave's confessions; yet he shall pardon the
young man, thy friend, as I am thy guarantee."

"What say ye, cavaliers?" cried Cortes: "does it become me, to remit a
sentence of death, at such mutinous intercession?"

Before any of the officers could reply, Gaspar, confiding in the promise
of Alvarado, threw himself again at the general's feet, crying,

"Señor, I am not a mutineer, but a penitent. I am mad to think that
one,--so good a friend, so valiant a soldier, so true a follower, (for
there is no falsehood in Juan Lerma,) should die for a small
matter,--saving Don Francisco's presence,--when there are so many rogues
about us, that go unpunished. But I leave him to your excellency's
mercy, trusting that your excellency will reconsider the judgment, and
release him. Therefore I will speak, in this trust; and I pray heaven to
remember the act, be it merciful or be it cruel.--This is what I have to
say: In my passion, I betook me to Villafana; who, promising to save
Lerma's life, I signed with him; though the first act of guilt was to
take your excellency's life. Holy mother of heaven! pardon me; but I was
very much incensed. Well, señor, I found on the paper the names of two
hundred and forty men, and I will tell you such as I remember; but if
you will send to the prison, and suddenly seize the Alguazil, you will
find the list in his bosom.--"

"Quinones, see thou to this," said Cortes, turning to the master of the
armory, who made one of the council. "Take with thee none but hidalgos,
and be sudden, making no noise and shedding no blood--Yet stay: this
will not do, neither. Hark thee, Gaspar, man, when shall this precious
earthquake rumble into the upper air?"

"To-morrow," replied the soldier; and then, to the horror and
astonishment of all present, he divulged the whole scheme of
assassination, as Villafana had himself spoken it in the prison.

"With a letter from my father, too!" cried Cortes, apparently more
struck with the heartless barbarity of the stratagem, than with anything
else in Gaspar's communication: "This is indeed the Judas-kiss,
the--Faugh! these were the words of Magdalena!"

While he muttered these words to himself, he was roused by a sudden
voice at the great door, and heard distinctly the unexpected voice of
Villafana, saying, as he wrangled with the guards,

"Oh, 'slid, you take upon you too much. I come at the order of the
general."

"Admit Villafana," said Cortes, in tones that penetrated loudly to the
farthest limits of the room, for the cavaliers were stricken into a
boding silence at the accents of the Alguazil: "Admit my trusty
Villafana." And Villafana entered.

He was evidently flushed with wine, and it was for that reason,
doubtless, that he did not seem to observe the presence of his forsworn
associate, nor the suspicious act of two cavaliers, who stole from the
group, and took possession of the door by which he had entered. He
approached with a reckless and confident, though somewhat stupid, air,
exclaiming, after divers humble scrapes and salaams,

"I come at your excellency's bidding, according to appointment. This was
the hour, please your excellency--But 'tis a scurvy night, with much
thunder and lightning."

"Ay, truly," said Cortes, with a mild voice, while all the rest stood in
the silence of death; "but, being so observant, Villafana, how comes it
you have not remarked that you are here without the Indian Techeechee,
whom I commanded you to bring hither at this hour?"

"Señor," said the Alguazil, a little confused, "that old Ottomi is a sly
dog, and, I doubt me, not over-honest."

"I doubt me so, too," said Cortes, in the same encouraging tones; "yet,
honest or false, sly or simple, methinks thou shouldst not have suffered
him to escape."

"Escape! what, Techeechee escape!" cried Villafana with unaffected
surprise: "Ho, no! I did but give the gray infidel a sop of wine, and
straightway he hid himself in a corner, to sleep off his drunkenness.
And,--and,--" continued he, with instinctive though clumsy
cunning,--"and I thought it would be unbeseemly to bring him to your
excellency, in that condition. I beg your excellency's pardon for making
him acquainted with such Christian liquor; but it was out of pity,
together with some little hope of converting him to the faith; and,
besides, I knew not his head was so weak. I will fetch him to your
excellency in the morning."

"Why, this is well," said the Captain-General, with such insinuating
gentleness as characterizes the snake, when closing softly on his prey;
"and I doubt not thou canst give me as good an account of the
ambassadors. It is said to me, that they also have escaped."

"Good God!" cried Villafana, startled not only out of his confidence,
but, in great measure, out of his intoxication, by such an announcement;
"the ambassadors escaped? It cannot be!"

"Pho, they have hurt thee more than I thought,--even to the point of
destroying thy memory," rejoined the Captain-General, with the
blandishment of a smile. "There is blood upon thy shoulder: I doubt not,
thou wert severely hurt, while attempting to prevent their flight. No
one ever questioned the courage of Villafana."

"Yes, señor, yes--no--yes; that is,--I mean to say--Saints of
heaven!"--And here the Alguazil paused, completely sobered,--that is,
restored to his senses, but not to his wits; for he perceived himself in
a difficulty, and his invention pointed out no means of escape. He
rolled his eyes, haggard at once with debauch and alarm, over the
cavaliers, and, though the lofty figure of Alvarado concealed Gaspar
from his view, he beheld enough in the extraordinary sedateness of all
present, to fill him with the most racking suspicions. He turned again
to Cortes, and commanding his fears as much as he could, went on, with
an appearance of boldness,

"Alas, noble señor, if the ambassadors _be_ escaped, I am a lost
man,--for I trusted too much to the vigilance of others, and I should
not have done so. Alas, señor," he continued with more energy, as his
mind began to work more clearly, "I have committed a great offence in
this negligence; but I vow to heaven, it was owing to my fears of Juan
Lerma, who made many efforts to escape, and had strong friends to help
him. Your excellency may see the necessity I was under, to give all my
thoughts to him; for, some one having furnished him with a dagger, he
foully attacked me, not on my guard, giving me this wound; and had it
not been for the sudden rushing in of the guard, I should certainly have
been killed."

Thus spoke the Alguazil, with returning craft, mingling together fiction
and fact with an address which astonished even himself:

"Yes, señor," he continued, satisfied with the strength of his argument,
and now elated with a prospect of providing against the effects of his
imprudent disclosures in the prison; "yes, señor, and the young man,
besides thus wounding me, swore he would have me hanged for a
conspiracy; stating roundly, as the guards will witness, (I am certain
that Esteban, the Left-Handed, heard him,) that, being a notorious
grumbler, any such fiction would be believed of me. As if this would
make me a conspirator! whereas, your excellency knows, according to the
proverb, Barking dogs are no biters." And the audacious ruffian,
relapsing into security, attested his innocence by a gentle laugh and
the sweetest of his smiles.

"Again I say, thou speakest well," said Cortes, carelessly descending
from the platform, on which he had mounted at the approach of Villafana.
"Thine arguments have even satisfied me of the folly of certain charges,
brought against thee by this mad fellow, here, at thy elbow."

As he spoke, Alvarado, taking his instructions rather from a
consentaneous feeling of propriety than from any hint of Don Hernan's,
moved aside, and Villafana's eyes fell upon the figure of Gaspar.

"Think of it, good fellow," said Cortes, laying his hand upon
Villafana's shoulder, as if to support himself a little; "the things he
said of thee are innumerable, and excessively preposterous. He averred,
for instance, that thou wert peevishly offended, because I had not
invited thy presence to the festivities of the morning banquet, and wert
resolved to come, whether I would or not, and that with a letter from my
father in one hand, and a dagger in the other. Eh! is not this
outrageous? He said, besides,--But, o' my life, thou hast bled too much
from this wound! Juan Lerma strikes deep, when the fit is on him. I hope
thou art not faint, man!"

To these benevolent expressions, the Alguazil replied by turning upon
the general a countenance so bloodless, and an eye filled with such
ecstacy of despair, (for if the poniards of all had been at his throat,
he could not have been more perfectly apprized of his coming fate,) that
Cortes must have been struck with some feeling of commiseration, had not
his nature been somewhat akin to that of a cat, which delights less to
kill than to sport with the agonies of a dying victim. As it was, he
continued to torment the abandoned wretch, by adding, pleasantly,

"And what thinkest thou of this, too, my Villafana? Two hundred and
forty conspirators, to rush in when the blow was struck!--doubtless to
carve their dinners from the ribs of my cavaliers!--Ah, Villafana,
Villafana! thou shouldst have a care of thy friends. Our enemies are
harmless, but our friends are always dangerous.--What dost thou say to
all this, Villafana?--Knave! hadst thou twenty daggers in thy jerkin,
thou wert still but an unfanged reptile!"

While he spoke, in this jestful mood, he was sensible that Villafana,
(doubtless with an instinctive motion, of which he was himself
unconscious, being apparently turned to stone,) was stealing his hand up
towards his bosom, as if to grasp a weapon. The moment the member had
reached the opening of his garment, Cortes caught him by the throat, and
giving utterance to his last words with a voice of thunder, and
employing a strength irresistible by such a man as Villafana, he hurled
him to the floor, at the same instant placing his foot on his throat.
Then stooping down, and thrusting his hand into the traitor's bosom, he
plucked out, at a single grasp, a poniard, a letter, and the fatal list
of conspirators. He pushed the first aside, read the superscription of
the second with a laugh, and casting his eye upon the third, devoured
its contents with an avidity that left him unconscious of the murmurs of
the fierce cavaliers, and the groans of the wretched Alguazil,
strangling under his foot.

"What, señor! will you rob the gallows of its prey?" cried Alvarado,
pointing his sword at the prostrate traitor, as, indeed, did all the
rest, (having drawn them at the moment when Cortes seized him by the
throat:) "His crime is manifest to all: what need of trial? Every man
his steel through the dog!"

"Hold!" cried the Captain-General; "this were a death for an hidalgo.
Up, cur! up, and meet thy fate! Up!" And he spurned the wretch with his
foot.

The Alguazil rose up, his face black with blood, which, not perfectly
dispersing even at release from strangulation, remained in leopard-like
blotches over his visage, ghastfully contrasted with the ashy hues that
gathered between them. As he rose, his arms were seized by two or three
cavaliers; and Sandoval, as quick in action as he was sluggish in
speech, snatching the rich sword-sash of samite from his own shoulders,
instantly secured them behind his back.

"For the love of God, señores!" cried Villafana, finding speech at last,
"what do you mean? what do you design? You will not kill an innocent
man? Will you judge me at the charge of a liar? Gaspar is my sworn foe.
I will make all clear.--Señor, I have been drinking, and my mind is
confused: take me not at this disadvantage. Oh, for God's sake, what do
you mean?--The list? what, the list? 'Tis for a merry-making--a
rejoicing for my birthday. I will explain all to your excellencies.--I
am an innocent man.--Gaspar is a forsworn caitiff--a caitiff, señores, a
caitiff!--I claim trial by the civil judges."--

"Gag him," cried one.

"Strike him on the mouth," said another. And Villafana, gasping for
breath, uttered, for a moment, nothing but inarticulate murmurs.

"De Olid, Marin, De Ircio," cried Cortes, rapidly, and with
inexpressible decision, "ye are judges of life and death; Sandoval and
Alvarado, by right of office, ye can sit in judgment; Quinones, Guzman,
and the rest, I make you, in the king's name, special associates of the
others.--Why, here is a court, not martial, but civil; and the dog shall
have judgment to his content! He stands charged of treason.--Guilty,
señores? or not guilty?"

"Guilty!" cried all with one voice: and De Olid added, "Let us take him
into the garden, and hang him to the cedar-tree."

"To the window," said Cortes, pointing with his sword to the stout
cords, hanging so invitingly from the serpent's-head; and in an instant
the victim was dragged upon the platform.

Up to this moment, his fears had been uttered rather in vehement
complaints than in outcries; but now, when he perceived that he was
condemned by a mockery of trial, doomed without the respite of a
minute's space to pray, the rope dangling before his eyes, and already
in the hands of a cavalier, who was bending it into a noose, he uttered
a piercing scream, and endeavoured to throw himself on his knees.

"Mercy!" he cried, "mercy! mercy! I will confess--I can save all your
lives--Mercy! mercy!"

Of all the sights of horror and disgust, villany, transformed at the
death-hour, into its natural character and original of cowardice, is
among the most appalling. Villafana was as brave as a ruffian could be;
but when imagination is linked in the same spirit with vice, courage
expires almost at the same moment with hope. With a weapon in his hand,
and that at liberty, Villafana, perhaps, would have manifested all the
valour in which despair perceives the only hope, and died like a man. As
it was, bound and grasped in the arms of strong men, entirely helpless
and equally without hope, his death staring him in the face, he gave
himself up at once to unmanly fears, and wept, screamed, and prayed,
until the guards, at watch in the vestibule, sank upon their knees and
conned over their beads, to divert their senses from cries so agonized
and so horrible.

As he strove to prostrate himself before his inexorable judges, he was
pulled up by the cavaliers, and among others by Don Francisco de Guzman,
whose countenance he recognized.

"Save me, Guzman! save me!" he cried; "for thou wert once of the
party--Save me!"

"Peace, wolf--"

"Mercy! mercy! noble señor!" he continued, turning to Cortes: "I am but
one of many. Guzman is as false as I; I charge him with treason: he has
abused your excellency's ear!--Listen, señores, and spare me my life:
give me a day--give me but to-night, to pray and confess, and you shall
have all. There are cavaliers among us--Mercy, for the love of
heaven!--Camarga, the Dominican,--Don Palmerino de Castro,--Muertazo of
Toledo, Carabo of Seville,--Artiaga, Santa-Rosa, Bravo, Aljaraz, and an
hundred more--"

"Peace, lying villain!" cried the Captain-General--"What ho, the rope!
quick, the rope!"

"A moment to repent! a moment to repent!" shrieked the victim,
struggling so violently to bring his hands before him, as if to clasp
them in prayer, that the silken band crackled behind him, and his hands
turned black with congested blood; "a moment to repent! for I am a
sinner. What! would you condemn my soul, too? Saints, hear me! angels,
plead for me! A priest, for the love of heaven! I killed Artiaga of
Cadiz; I scuttled the ship at Alonso, drowned the nuns, and stole the
church-plate--Call Magdalena--Where's Magdalena?--You are murdering me!
Mercy! mercy! I killed Hilario, too--I poniarded him in the old wounds,
inflicted by Juan Lerma--I have much to repent--A priest, for the love
of God! A priest, oh, a priest!"

Thus raved the villain, stained with a thousand crimes; and if aught had
been wanting to steel the hearts of his executioners, enough was
divulged in the unavailing abandonment with which he accused himself of
misdeeds, so many and so atrocious. While his neck was yet free from the
rope, he struggled violently, but without any attempt to do a mischief
to his unrelenting murderers; his resistance was, indeed, like that of a
cur, under the chastisement of a cruel and brutal master, which howls
and contends, and yet fears to employ its fangs against the tyrant. But
when he found, at last, that the cavaliers were actually putting the
hasty halter about his neck, his struggles were not greater to escape
than to inflict injury. He shook and tossed his head in distraction, and
Don Francisco de Guzman, endeavouring to seize him by the beard, he
caught the hand of the cavalier betwixt his teeth, and held it with the
gripe of a tiger.

"Hell confound thee, wolf!" cried Guzman, groaning with pain, and
striking him over the face with the hilt of his sword, but in vain:
"Help me, cavaliers, or he will have my hand off!--Villain, unlock thy
teeth.--"

"Stand aside--This will unloose thee," said one, thrusting his rapier
into the thigh of the vindictive wretch; who no sooner felt the cold
steel penetrate his flesh, than he opened his mouth to utter a yell.
"Whip him up _now_.--So much for traitors!"

It was the last scream of the assassin. His lips uttered one more cry to
heaven; the name of Magdalena was cut short, as the noose closed upon
his throat, and ended in a hoarse, rattling, gulphing whine, that did
not itself prevail beyond the space of a second. As he shot up to the
top of the window, an intense glare of lightning flashed through the
alabaster, and his figure, traced upon that lustrous and ghastly medium,
was seen dangling and writhing in the death-agony. The next moment, the
huge curtain was drawn over the dreadful spectacle: but those who paused
a moment, to look back, could behold the convulsions of the dying
miscreant giving motion, and sometimes protrusion, to the dark folds of
the drapery.--When all was silent, in the darkness of the night, the
watchmen in the vestibule could yet hear the pattering of blood-drops
falling from his mangled limb, upon the sonorous wood of the platform.

But there were other scenes now occurring, which, for a time, drove from
their thoughts the memory of Villafana.




CHAPTER XXI.


The scene of death in which they were engaged, had so employed the
thoughts of the cavaliers, that they were, for a time, insensible to
many tumultuous noises in the city, which, beginning at the moment when
the struggles and outcries of Villafana were fiercest and loudest,
increased every instant, until all was uproar.

At first, as they rushed in disorder to the doors, they thought the din
was caused by a renewal of the storm, or rather the sudden outbursting
of a tornado; which, overwhelming the houses of some of the poorer
citizens, and burying them among the ruins, might account for the
screams and yells, that were mingled with other noises. But they soon
exchanged this fear for one more stirring, when, as they rushed into the
air, they heard an alarum ringing from the chapel-bell on the top of the
pyramid, drums beating to arms, arquebuses firing in several different
quarters, and were made sensible that a conflict was raging in the town.

"Dios!" cried one; "the conspirators are upon us! Let us back to the
hall and defend ourselves!"

"My life upon it," said Gaspar, "the conspirators will not stir till
Villafana opens his lips to them.--Heaven rest his soul!--Hark! these
are the yells of Indians."

"On, friends!" exclaimed Cortes, perceiving the garden full of soldiers,
rushing from various parts of the palace, as if to seek the fray. "This
is Tlascalan work--a knavery of Xicotencal. Hah! hark! see! 'tis an
assault upon the prison! Ho, Castilians! ho, Christians! cavaliers and
soldiers, to arms! haste, to arms!"

While the soldiers, collecting together at the well-known voice of the
Captain-General, began to rush with him towards the prison, over which,
besides hearing the shouting of the watchmen at the doors, they beheld
three blazing arrows shot up into the air, their alarm was directed to
another quarter, by a violent cannonade from the squadron, moored yet at
the entrance of the little river; and looking that way, they perceived
to their astonishment and fear, no less than four of the brigantines
suddenly enveloped in flames.

"Guzman and Quinones!" cried Cortes, with instant determination, "to the
prison, with what force ye can pick up on the way. Shoot all fugitives,
as well as all assailants. The rest follow me to the river; for I would
mine arms should be burned, rather than my vessels."

By this time, all the Spaniards who were capable of bearing arms, were
in the open air, and following not less the shouts of Cortes than the
crash of the falconets, ran hastily towards the fleet, which, it was now
evident, was furiously beset by multitudes of Indians in canoes. The
flash of the explosions and the flames bursting ruddily out from sails
and cordage, revealed them clustering with impetuosity around the
devoted vessels, whose crews, it was equally apparent, were making a
gallant resistance. In this light, the houses bordering upon the water
were seen covered with citizens, looking on with a tranquillity, which
showed that their share in the unexpected hostilities, if indeed they
had any, was entirely passive. A more agreeable sight was disclosed to
Cortes, as he ran onwards, in the appearance of many thousand
Tlascalans, rushing down the narrow meadows which bordered the canal,
with such alacrity of speed and such furious cries of 'Tlascala!' and
'Castilla!' as convinced him of their fidelity and affection.

"It is a Mexican device, after all," he muttered; "a plan of the
ambassadors. Well done for thee, Villafana!--Bold varlets, these! What!
down with your demi-culverins and sakers, Orozca! Where is my good
cannonier, Juan Catalan? We will aid the vessels from the shore."

The mariners, however hotly engaged, replied to the cries of their
friends with shouts of courage; and redoubling their exertions, they
succeeded not only in repelling the assailants, whose obvious aim was to
fire the whole fleet, from those ships not yet ignited, but even in
extinguishing the flames in the less fortunate four. In this, they were
doubtless materially assisted by the condition of the planks and
timbers, which being of green wood, the flames would perhaps have
confined their ravages to the more combustible sails and cordage, and
soon expired for want of fuel. They weighed anchor also, and taking
advantage of the gusts which still blew over the lake, six of the
largest and strongest set sail, and boldly plunged among the canoes,
overturning and sinking many, while the others, receiving assistance
from the shore, betook themselves to the little harbour, dragging with
them their disabled consorts.

In this manner, it soon became evident that the danger in this quarter
was over; and Cortes, directing that the position of the brigantines
should be strengthened by a temporary battery at the mouth of the river,
returned to inspect the condition of the city in the neighbourhood of
the palace.

The sounds of contention were over; and one passing through the garden,
and listening to the moaning of the winds through the trees, could
scarce have believed that half an hour before it had been a scene of
such warlike bustle. The bell rang no longer, the drums, trumpets, and
arquebuses were silent, and the sentinels paced to and fro at their
stations, as if nothing unusual had happened. The only sounds indeed
that now vexed the calm of the night, were the occasional explosion of a
falconet from some brigantine, afar among the shadows of the lake, still
pursuing the retreating canoes. The attack was perhaps unpremeditated;
or, perhaps, its only object was to taunt and defy. At all events, it
was now over; and in less than an hour from the time of the first alarm,
the cry of all's-well could be heard through the different quarters of
the city.

Before this satisfactory conclusion of an evening so eventful, the
Captain-General was doomed to have his equanimity put to the proof by a
new trial. A double line of guards surrounded the prison, and Guzman,
Quinones, and Gaspar Olea were among them, the last wringing his hands,
and bewailing; but the prison-door was open, a thin smoke issued from
it, and he could see, at a glance, that the only persons in the
apartment were a few soldiers, dashing water over its partly consumed
floor. Under the very threshold lay the bodies of two soldiers,
fearfully mangled; another was writhing, gasping, and dying in the arms
of his comrades; and a fourth, severely wounded, was narrating to
Quinones the particulars of an assault, made, as he averred, by ten
thousand devils, or Mexicans, who sprang suddenly out of the earth,
killed or dispersed the whole guard, carried off the prisoner, or burned
him, he knew not which, (for he lay upon the ground, counterfeiting
death,) and then, setting fire to the building, vanished quite as
suddenly as they came.

"Were these men Mexicans or Tlascalans?" demanded Cortes, without
betraying any sign of feeling.

The soldier started at the sound of his leader's voice, and hastily
replied,

"In good faith, señor, I know not, for I was somewhat overcome with
fear."

"And with wine, sirrah!" exclaimed the General. "But it matters
not--thou art too stupid to answer now. Have this fellow into the den,
Quinones, and let him be brought to me to-morrow.--Señor Don Francisco,
we will walk to the palace."

He put his arm into Guzman's, and dragging him to a little distance,
where no beam of torch or cresset illuminated his visage, exclaimed,
eagerly,

"Tell me the truth, Francisco:--has he perished by fire in the prison,
or has he escaped me?"

"Señor," replied Guzman, "his star, or his devil, has helped him."

"Why then the fiends seize thee, and all false friends, who plague me!"
cried Cortes, giving way to passion. "Is it thus I am to be cheated?"

"Señor," said Guzman, moderately, but without fear; "I have mine own
cause of distress, for my hand is horribly mangled, and I have heard
that the bite of a dying man causes mortification. So, with this pain of
body and mind, I may not speak good counsel or good defence.--When I
reached the prison, it was empty and on fire. Had not your excellency
interfered with the execution this day--"

"Ay, there again!" muttered the Captain-General; "mine own hand is made
to befool me; it pulls out of the pit faster than my foot tramples in.
Hark thee, Guzman, dost thou not think this young man is protected by
some special providence?"

"I, señor?"

"Why, look you, what could have carried him through the tribes of the
West, to the South Sea, and back again?--(a device of thy scheming,
too!) And, didst thou not see, I was about to run him through, in the
very act of mutinous resistance, when a brute and insensate dog seized
my sword-blade in his mouth? And now, for the third time, what but his
angel could have brought to his prison-door yonder infidels of
Mexico--his only friends, I think?"

"Let your excellency question if this circumstance will not, without
removing him from punishment, give a still stronger excuse for it? The
scribe visited him in the dungeon; a paction with the enemy, sealed by
the act of flight with them to their stronghold, has confirmed him
thrice over a traitor."

"Ay, by heaven! it is true!" said Cortes, smiting his hands together;
"and, by and by, I will take him out of his hiding-place, and crown the
day of victory with a double triumph!"

"And who can affirm," quoth Don Francisco, "that the misbelievers have
not taken him for a sacrifice? It is said, the coronation of Guatimozin
is deferred only until he can provide a Castilian victim to do honour to
the ceremony. By my faith, señor, there is a pleasant twitch in my
cheek,--ay, in the scar of the rapier-wound--at the very thought of this
retribution!"

"Now, by heaven," said Cortes, with an altered voice, "villain as he is,
I cannot rejoice that such a dismal fate should befall him. Death,
indeed, but not a death of horror! Dost thou think this, then, can be
his doom? Alas, poor youth! had he but some one to lament him or to
avenge, I were better satisfied with what I have done. I swear to thee,
Francisco, we are e'en as base knaves as himself; for we have employed
our strength--our cunning and our strength--against a creature that is
utterly friendless. Alas, I say; for I remember me of the days of old;
and surely I loved him once as my own soul."

This outbreaking of feeling did not at all surprise Guzman, who had been
familiar from the beginning with the ebbings and flowings of Don
Hernan's hate, and who had several times seen him, when the destiny of
Juan seemed already closed, affected so much that he shed tears, as he
did at the present moment. But Guzman was acquainted with a spell which
never failed to banish all compunction from the General's breast; and he
did not scruple to employ it now.

"It is enough!" muttered Cortes, through his clenched teeth. "Heaven and
my conscience acquit me, and I will think of it no more."

With these words, he seemed to discharge from his mind all thoughts of
the youth so deeply detested, and addressing himself to the task of
inspecting in person the condition of all assailable points in the city,
betook himself at last, and at the day-dawn, to his repose.

END OF VOL. I.





End of Project Gutenberg's The Infidel, Vol. I., by Robert Montgomery Bird