"In case of surprise," added Roger. "Yes; for it has suddenly occurred to me that if Fernando Cortes has been here before, he and his men will have earned the hatred of some, at least, of the natives."
"Of all," exclaimed Tamba, passionately. "They come with their guns and their horses, and they give fair promises. They speak of friendly treaties and of their religion; but behind it all is greed for gold."
"It is their cruel way," answered Roger. "But to return to what I was saying—they will have surely earned the hatred of some, and were they to go alone as we, they would do so in terror of their lives."
"That is so," admitted Tamba "In my country, far off in the forests and in the interior, a Spaniard dared not go; for he knew that a cruel death awaited him. Yes, we had become cruel in our turn, though we had formerly been quiet and peaceful. We were driven to desperation, or rather to despair."
"Some here may be desperate. They may see us, and then they will think that I am a Spaniard."
Roger saw Tamba shrink at the idea. His face went pale, even beneath the dusk, while he looked at his master with frightened eyes.
"You could say that you were not Spanish, my lord. You would tell them that you belong to England."
"What did you know about England?" asked Roger, calmly. "Nothing. Then, how will these natives? But I am imagining a difficulty. Let us push on, and trust to good fortune."
That night found the two on the edge of the broad plain which they had traversed, and approaching the range of mountains, which they could now see were broken into many chains, and into separate pinnacles. They looked for a suitable bivouac, and selecting a huge overhanging rock, which promised to keep the heavy dew away, they lit their fire and ate their meal. Three hours later, while they slept, for they were both worn out by a long day's march, a hundred dark figures surrounded them, and skilful fingers drew their weapons away. Then they were pounced upon, beaten heavily, and dragged away into the darkness. A bandage was tied firmly round their eyes, so that they could see nothing, and their limbs secured with soft cords. Then Roger felt himself lifted on to the shoulders of four tall men—at least, he thought that they were tall—and was carried off at a pace which must have taxed the strength of his bearers. Indeed, he heard their heavy breathing, and remarks which he thought referred to his length and weight.
"Prisoners," he thought, with a shudder. "These fellows will do as I said, and take me for a Spaniard. I can expect little mercy from them, for if we are in the neighbourhood of Mexico many of the inhabitants will have been killed. But there is no use in bothering. As well prepare for the worst, and rest, so as to be fresh to bear what comes on the morrow."
With this philosophic determination, he lay flat on the palanquin on which he had been thrown, and presently, in spite of his dread of the future, fell fast asleep; for the bandage about his eyes seemed to make him drowsy. And, then, he was as yet not fully recovered from his wound, and from the weakness consequent therefrom, and the march had been long and fatiguing. How long he slept he never knew, but he was awakened by a blast of cold air, which fanned his face, and by a movement of his bearers. They lowered him to the ground, not roughly, or as if they desired to harm him, but with every care, as if he were some person of importance. Then one of them removed the bandage, while the others stood him upon his feet. It was day; the dawn had broken but a few minutes before, and the crest of the sun was just risen over a mountain range. A cry escaped from Roger—a cry of amazement; for down below him, at the end of the long straggling track which led down from the pass over which the party had been travelling, was a huge lake, nestling amongst broken mountain chains which did not run to its shores, but which stood back from them, giving the lake ample space. And attached to this lake was another, to the right and a little nearer, while at different points along the shores of both were towns, huge clusters of houses, with towers as high as St. Paul's in London, which he knew so well, towers which glistened and sparkled in the sun. But that was not all. The rugged mountain track descended to the plain in which lay the lakes, and crossed it direct to a viaduct, a straight line some two leagues in length, which pushed its granite walls out into the larger lake, to a huge city, standing white in the sun, and showing a hundred and more towers. Other viaducts cut off from it here and there, while he could see dots moving on the water. What a scene! Who could paint it? For the walls of the houses reflected the rays, while a dazzling light played upon the sides of the numerous towers, and upon their summits. But all was not white, for on nearly every flat roof the red and blue and dazzling pink of gorgeous flowers was given back, while gardens lay on either side of this lake city, seeming, as was actually the fact, to float on the water. In a flash it came to Roger's mind that this city, those viaducts, and those tiny boats were true to the plan which was engraved on the golden disc, now in the possession of Alvarez. The scene was stupendous. The wonder of it took his breath away, while he was amazed at the thought that he was so soon within sight of the goal for which the brigantine had sailed.
"Mexico! Mexico!" he almost shouted. "The city for which we were bound."
There was no answer. For a few minutes the natives allowed him to feast his eyes upon the sight. Then they put the bandage about his head again, and lifted him on to the litter. He was raised on to their shoulders, and they set off at a run down the slope. Presently they were crossing the viaduct, and when at length Roger was permitted to look again, he found that his bonds were being removed, and that he and Tamba sat side by side in an enormous wooden cage, placed in the centre of a square of huge dimensions, and close alongside another cage of similar arrangement, in which were some two hundred other prisoners.
What would have been his feelings had he known that he was in the heart of the city of Mexico, the fairest city of those times, the fairest city that has ever been, and that this cage in which he found himself was in the courtyard of the chief temple, a prison kept for the purpose of holding captives destined for the sacrifice. Yes; that was the custom of the Mexicans. They practised human sacrifice, as many a Spaniard was to know to his cost, and they kept ready at hand a number of wretched prisoners who were doomed to end their lives on the summit of the greatest temple.
When Roger learned the news the terror of it almost unmanned him, and he sank helpless upon his knees.
For many weeks Roger de Luce had longed to see the city of Mexico, though it was a much shorter time since he had learned that that was the name of the place depicted upon the golden disc which had come into Peter Tamworth's hands. He had looked forward to beholding this quaint place, erected in the middle of a lake, surrounded, in fact, by water, and approached by one or more causeways. He had never dreamed that his ambition would so soon be gratified, nor was he so vastly pleased now that he had come to this spot, reputed to hold a store of treasure. Indeed, there are few who could look upon the prospects which now faced him with a cheerful face, for it was not long before he learned that the solid wooden bars of his cage were wont to hold captives—captives kept for the day of sacrifice. The thought was horrible, but the fact was true, for daily men were extracted from the other cage, and taken to the summit of the temple.
Let us leave our friend Roger in this predicament for a little while, discussing the position with his faithful Tamba, while we ascertain the movements of that gallant and astute leader known as Fernando Cortes, and the reasons and objects which had brought him to this Terra Firma.
The reader will recollect that mention has been made of the voyages of discovery made by the Portuguese, mostly to Africa, voyages which taught the Regent of the country that there were islands such as Madeira and the Canaries, and which, if they did nothing else, brought a few slaves back to the shores of Portugal. Indeed, the first success of these expeditions led to a ghastly human traffic which accounted in later years for an importation of some thousand slaves per annum. But the Portuguese were not the first to display some curiosity in outside conditions, to investigate other parts, for the voyages accomplished by them, and those of Columbus, were merely links in a long chain of adventurous enterprises by sea which commenced centuries before, and have not ceased even at this date. Indeed, the East, the Far East, had been known of for very many years, while the Phœnicians, the Greeks, and the Carthaginians had sent their vessels out till the coasts of Southern Europe and Asia were known, as well as the northern coast of Africa. After these heroes came the Roman Empire, and we have little, if any, more information of discoveries till the beginning of the twelfth century, when there was renewed activity amongst the maritime peoples. In fact, the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries constitute what is known as the "age of discovery," and of these the fifteenth century, with the earlier portion of the following one, was certainly the most productive of discoveries. And it is a curious coincidence that while men's minds were turned to foreign parts, to the effort to obtain knowledge of foreign peoples and affairs, there should have been a revival in other matters. The arts and sciences made headway during these centuries, while religious feeling revived, and enormous exertions were made to Christianize the heathen. In fact, Christianity was widely spread by the end of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, while a bitter war was being waged against the Saracens, who dominated Africa and the Mediterranean, keeping Genoa and Venice in check, while their armies conquered Spain, and even invaded France. But the energies of these intrepid warriors were not confined to war alone, for they sought for commerce, and there is little doubt but that they were acquainted with the Red Sea, with the east coast of Africa as far as Madagascar, and with much of the west coast of the same continent. But their knowledge was obtained for the most part not by voyages, but by overland routes, so that the interior, perhaps, rather than the coast-line was known.
In course of time these Saracens were beaten back by the tide of Christian chivalry, and then we find the Genoese prospecting voyages, in which they explored the Atlantic border of Africa, and wondered whether a passage existed to the due west by means of which they could reach India, the Far East.
And now we come to that period, extending over some sixty years, during which the Portuguese sent expeditions south along the west coast of Africa. These voyages, at first productive of only a few slaves, and later of a huge traffic in these unhappy victims of their raids, finally ended in the wonderful achievement of Bartolomeo Diaz, who rounded the Cape of Good Hope in 1485. Ten years later the intrepid Vasco de Gama doubled this cape, and sailed along the eastern coast of Africa to Durban, and from there to India itself, thus proving the existence of the huge continent of Africa, and the possibility of a passage to the Far East by way of the Cape of Good Hope.
However, this was not that due westerly route which philosophers and wise men spoke of, which tradition almost laid down as a fact, and the adventurous nations still pondered, still wondered whether it existed. Even in England the subject was as much in the minds of our sailors as in those of Portugal and Spain, and many a ship put out from Bristol intent on its discovery. But the attempt always ended in failure, for, after steering to the west for two weeks, perhaps, the mariners would fancy that they were on the wrong track, and would make some other course, finally returning disappointed to Bristol.
But the Spaniards succeeded in discovering land to the west, if none others had done so, for in 1494 Vicente Pinzon, with Americo Vespucci, put out for the west, and came upon Brazil, the River Amazon, and the coast of South America. It was thought that the East Indies had been found, that the western passage had been hit upon, for no one dreamed that the huge continent of America intervened. And it was not till later, till after Columbus's later voyages, and the discovery of the Pacific Ocean, and the rounding of Cape Horn by Magalhaes, that the full significance of the new land was understood. Then, owing to an error, by which Americo Vespucci was thought to be the commander of the expedition which fell in with Brazil, the whole continent was given the title which it now bears.
The description of these voyages brings us at length to that first one of Columbus, a doughty sailor who had often taken part in the Portuguese trips along the west coast of Africa. He was, in fact, in the service of Portugal, and this theory of a western passage must often have been pondered on during the voyages he made in that service. At length it grew into a firm belief, and he went to Henry of Portugal with the desire that he might be offered the command of an expedition. But this was not the wish of the Portuguese, for were they to discover this western passage they could not keep it to themselves, while the coast of Africa, which they had found, and had commenced to colonize, was theirs by right, and could not so easily be usurped. Columbus therefore received no encouragement, and in despair sent his appeal to the court of Spain, and to Henry the Seventh of England. Accident alone placed him in the service of Spain, for when at length the message reached him from England, ordering him to attend the court, an arrangement had been come to with Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. Thereafter preparations were made for the voyage, and on August 3, 1492, he set sail. It is needless to tell of his progress, to relate how, after sailing for some three weeks, he still saw nothing but sea about him, and how his men desired him to return, believing that were they to sail over the horizon there would be no escape, and no power of getting back to their native land. Then they found themselves surrounded by a mass of seaweed, extending as far as the eye could reach, and through which they slowly cleaved their way. At length, after a voyage of thirty-six days, land was sighted, and after three months the bold mariners returned with the information that they had discovered an island, and a continent near at hand. This island, now known as Hayti, or San Domingo, was called Hispaniola, while the adjacent country, thought by Columbus, to the day of his death, to be part of a continent, proved to be an island, and was called Cuba.
Thereafter this fine sailor made three voyages, discovering the northern coast of South America in the neighbourhood of Trinidad. He had come to the Indies, he thought—to Earthly Paradise, as he called the land—never suspecting that this was a new and undiscovered world, and that Vicente Pinzon's voyage, together with that of Magalhaes's rounding of the southern cape, would prove it to be part of a mighty continent, then peopled by a dusky race, but hereafter to form a home for new nations of white and coloured men.
The reader can imagine how the tale of this discovery fired the people of Spain, and engrafted in the minds of all, in that of old and young alike, a longing for new fields, for adventure in these foreign parts. For Columbus told of a friendly people, of gorgeous scenery and herbage, and of pearls in abundance. What wonder if thousands clamoured to follow! Spain was at peace, and there was no other outlet for the spirit of chivalry with which her young men were filled. So an expedition was arranged, and Ojeda commanded it. But he fell out with the natives and fought with them, so that when other voyagers came they met too often with the reverse of a welcome.
It would be tedious to detail the names of all the adventurous dons who followed, to tell how Cristobal Guerra and Alonso Nino came directly on Ojeda's heels, and how, with more discretion and perception, they took pains to do as Columbus had done, making friends with the natives. From the latter they obtained for paltry wares an abundance of pearls, all of which had come from the pearl fisheries close at hand, these lying at an island which was so sterile that the natives did not inhabit it. By name Cabagua, it, of course, formed a great attraction to the Spaniards, and when the tale of their success came with them to Spain, and these adventurers carried their stores of pearls ashore, as if they were so many pebbles, the fame of their undertaking went through the breadth of the land. Thousands clamoured to follow, so that ere very long this island was colonized, a town being built there, and named "New Cadiz." Thus we find Spaniards on the mainland, or within a very little distance of it. Nor was it long before La Casas and others followed, all with the one thought of making a fortune.
Some were content to accomplish this purpose by hard work at the fisheries, but others soon took to another trade, and commenced to hunt for slaves. It cannot be a matter of wonder to the reader to hear that these fiends in the end provoked a peaceful group of natives, for along the thousands of leagues of the pearl coast there were numerous races and tribes, many of them of sufficient numbers to be designated nations. They turned and many a Spanish soldier and monk paid the penalty.
But this portion of the northern coast of South America hardly concerns us, though its discovery directly led up to farther wanderings, to more voyages of discovery, and to the finding of Yucatan, of the Isthmus of Panama, and finally to the discovery by the intrepid Vasco Nunez de Bilbao of the Southern Sea, the wide Pacific; for this man actually accomplished the journey across the Isthmus of Panama, and reached the farther coast, where he learned vaguely of the wonders of Peru, of a country where natives lived in stone houses, and in cities; where there was a well-ordered government with a king, and where, as was afterwards discovered during the conquest of these Peruvians, a system of roads existed than which there has never been anything finer. Indeed, an inspection of what remains of these coast roads to-day shows that they were excellently engineered, that they were composed of tough concrete which still holds together, while bridges connected the road across the rivers. More than that, by a system of couriers, stationed at close intervals of some forty yards, it was possible to send a verbal message over the road at a swift rate, the couriers running their forty yards and handing on the message. And that same message could thus be transmitted for a distance of a thousand miles.
However, Peru even does not concern us, for it is to Mexico that we turn, to the northern portion of the long isthmus which connects North to South America, and is spoken of in these days as Central America.
The great Fernando Cortes set sail from Santiago, in Cuba, on November 18, 1518, his banner bearing a coloured cross on a black background, with flames showing here and there, and an inscription in Latin beneath, which read, "Let us follow the Cross, and in that sign we shall conquer."
He sailed with an armament of five hundred and fifty Spaniards, two or three hundred Indians, a few negroes, twelve or fifteen horses, ten brass guns, and some falconets. Touching at Trinidad, he then went to the island of Cosumel, near the north-eastern point of Yucatan, where he was so fortunate to come upon the survivor of a crew of Spaniards who had been wrecked, and who, having lived with the natives for very long, spoke their language fluently. In this manner an excellent interpreter was obtained.
Fernando then set his prow for the west, and came to Tabasco, where he landed, and encountering resistance from the natives, fought a great battle, defeating his enemy. But Tabasco was not the country for which he aimed, and it was the ambition of this leader to go farther north, to discover new lands, and to find wealth. Nor was he destined to be disappointed, for the Tabascans could tell tales of other countries, tales which had come to their ears, and there was one amongst them who had lived in the provinces of a country which paid tribute to Mexico. This person was a female slave, by name Marina, and she was given, together with others, to the Spaniards after their victory. Thus Cortes, almost at the very commencement of his voyage, found himself in possession of a Spaniard able to converse with the Mexicans, and of a woman slave of rare intelligence, and, as was to be afterwards proved, of the utmost loyalty to her new masters, who could make up for any deficiencies of the Spaniard.
With this success to encourage him, Cortes embarked again, and set sail for the north, arriving at a portion of the coast opposite to Mexico, which lay some little distance inland, hidden by its encircling mountains, and to which he gave the name of St. Juan de Ulua. Here he met with a friendly reception from the natives, and very shortly received in audience two gorgeous officers who had been sent by the great king Montezuma, the lord of Mexico.
To all the expressed wishes of the Spaniards for a permit to go to the city of Mexico this Montezuma returned evasive replies, and finally forbade them to come. And on every occasion on which he sent his envoys they came to Cortes laden with gold and jewels, and with feathered cloaks, all gifts to the Spaniards, a mark of the king's high favour. Had he sent anything else, or words alone, he would have done much better, and perhaps the history of Mexico would be vastly different to-day; for Cortes and his company had a quicker eye and a readier ear for riches and tales of riches, of gold and jewels, than they had for lands, for peoples as yet undiscovered. They were tempted, and this refusal to allow them to proceed acted rather as a spur than as a deterrent. Cortes was not the man to be baulked by any one, and certainly not by a native, even if he were a king. He was ambitious, as has been said, decisive and bold, and, in addition, was of a dogged disposition. He had come to discover, to gain new lands for the king, his master, and he would not be deterred by a native. Had he known the warlike disposition of the Mexicans, and the armies which they and their allies were able to put into the field, it is possible that he would have hastily embarked again, and sailed for Hispaniola or Cuba, with a view to gathering fresh forces. But there was more than doggedness and sheer contrariness as a cause for his determination to go to the city of Mexico; for it happened that Cortes had many enemies—so many, in fact, that though the command had been given to him, Velazques would have taken it from him within a day or two, and, indeed, sent a messenger with instructions that Cortes was to be recalled. However, this was not what this gallant leader wanted, and he evaded the summons and proceeded to the coast of New Spain. To return now unsuccessful would mean not alone the loss of command, but much more. Indeed, Cortes had disobeyed the orders of those in authority, so that to gain his own pardon it was necessary for him to make some conquest, and to establish his right to lead. Therefore, in spite of the numbers opposed to him, numbers which he learned were big, but the proportions of which he never even guessed at, he decided to push on for Mexico, and conquer the country if that were possible. We shall see how he fared in this adventure, and how the very fact of his being a white man aided him; also how circumstances played into his hands, so as to render him the utmost help. But Roger de Luce is still in his cage, and we will return to him.
"I have been speaking with one of the prisoners," said Tamba, some little while after Roger had awakened, and had looked about him with curious eyes. "Our tongue is somewhat like his, but he also speaks Spanish. He is one of the allies of these men who came to Cuba, and he was captured in a battle which took place a little while ago."
"Then the Spanish under Fernando Cortes are here!" exclaimed Roger, in some astonishment, for this was the first intimation he had had of that fact. "Did you ask how long they had been in Mexico, and what success they had had?"
"They were here some months, and have been gone a little while, my lord," was the answer. "The Mexicans rose, and drove them out. Now they are awaiting their return."
"And will they submit?" demanded Roger, anxiously. "For then we shall become captives of the Spaniards, and that would be worse even than this."
There was a doubting look in Tamba's eyes, and for a little while he hesitated whether to tell his young master of the critical position in which they were. At length he summoned courage, and spoke.
"To be a Spanish captive again could hardly be worse than our fate now," he said softly. "My lord is now a prisoner in the hands of the Mexicans, and he knows nothing of these people, save that they live in the centre of a lake. He does not know of their cruelty, and of their wicked practices."
Roger was entirely ignorant, to speak the truth, and, more than that, was amazed at the size of Mexico, and the huge numbers of people he saw about when he looked down from the pass, and the fine houses in which they lived. Till then he had hardly expected the natives in this new part to be much different from those to be seen in Cuba. But he was to learn much in the next few hours, and before he departed from Mexico was to know that these Aztecs were in many ways highly civilized, practising many of the higher arts and crafts, learned in picture writing, and able engineers. Alongside these attainments, Roger learned that they had certain practices which were strangely incongruous in a people so advanced in civilization, and that the nation, from the highest downwards, was swayed by the cruellest superstitions and religious rites. He was now to hear of one of the latter.
"Their wicked practices!" he gasped. "What do you mean? They looked peaceful enough, and rather melancholy, I thought. What are these practices?"
"The sacrifice, master," said Tamba, mournfully. "These Mexicans have many gods to whom they look, and whom they seek to appease, some with gifts of meat and cereals, others with the sacrifice of animals, while there is one in particular, the mighty war god, named Huitzilopochtli, to whom they offer men."
"Men! They sacrifice human beings!" exclaimed Roger, in disgust and dismay. "Then we——"
"Are reserved for that fate; and all these others, master. They will kill us so that we may bring fortune to them in their wars, and aid them against the Spaniards."
"Then they take us for enemies instead of friends," said Roger, quickly. "They think, perhaps, that we are Spaniards in Cortes's band, and therefore will be more than ever inclined to kill us."
"They say that we are a portion of these invaders, and that we must die. The man with whom I spoke told me that. He says that we may be summoned at any time, and that they will drag us to this war god. It is a horrible thought!"
Roger looked about him as if in a dream. He was stupefied and stunned by the awful news which Tamba had given him; for though he had by now met danger boldly and without flinching, and had risked his life in the encounters with the Spaniards, yet this cruel fate undermined his courage. He was ready to die when the time came, but to be held down, perhaps, and then slaughtered like a sheep, was too horrible. The thought unmanned him, and for a little while he sank on his knees, his face buried in his hands. Then he gradually recovered his composure and looked about him, his eye turning to the prisoners in the second cage. There were at least two hundred of them, and he was astounded to find that they were chatting contentedly together, some even laughing and joking. Was the same fate reserved for them? He turned and asked Tamba the question.
"The same, my lord," was the calm answer. "But these men look upon it in a different way. Thousands die here every year for the sake of the gods, and death in that manner is an honour. I have asked this man, and he said that their religion teaches them that to be sacrificed gives instant admission to the region of the sun, where they live happily afterwards. As to the death, it is swift and sure, and the deed is soon done. Fear not, master, for it may not come to that. Perhaps they will believe that you are no Spaniard."
It was poor consolation, but Roger had to make the most of it. He sat for a long while thinking the matter over, and when a few hours had gone, was himself again, prepared to face the executioners, should it come to that. But the native prisoners amazed him. True, all these Aztecs had a melancholy cast of countenance, but a glance at their faces showed that the doom awaiting them made little impression, and did not weigh on their minds. They were resigned and happy. Later on he learned that throughout the land of Mexico these sacrifices were carried on, and that at the lowest computation twenty thousand men died on the sacrificial altars during the year. The people were held fast in the chains of a cruel religious despotism, and bowed themselves in abject resignation. They saw their finest children, their sons and their firstborn torn from them, and acquiesced because their superstitions bade them do so. It was a horrible condition of affairs, and cruel though the Spaniards were, their coming was a boon to the country, though it broke up the Aztec races. However, we are anticipating, and will return to Roger.
Late in the afternoon there was a stir in the huge quadrangle in which the cages were built, and attendants came with food for the captives. Then a mass of people began to filter into the square, and amongst them some who were dressed in black robes, and wore their hair in long tangled wreaths about their necks and faces. They were ugly-looking fellows, and Roger shuddered as he looked at them.
"The priests," whispered Tamba, "and that"—pointing to one clad in scarlet—"is the head of all, the one who performs the sacrifice. They are coming towards us."
"Then we will fight till we are killed! Sooner that than be butchered. Let us look for a weapon, Tamba, and then we will set these fellows at defiance."
He sprang to his feet and searched the cage, but there was nothing to help him. He and Tamba had long since been deprived of their weapons, while the floor of the cage was bare, and it would have required an axe to sever one of the stout bars. Opposition was out of the question, and Roger promptly realized it. He faced round and watched the priests as they advanced, looking them unflinchingly in the face. Then his eye turned to some half-dozen other men who walked behind the men in black and scarlet, gorgeously dressed in feathered cloaks and light golden armour, while their heads were covered, some with carved wooden helmets, made to represent the heads of birds, while others had plumes in their hair. But all displayed many golden bangles and neck-chains, and their head-dress and many parts of their armour and their weapons were encrusted with jewels. Then the tale was true. Mexico was filled with riches! But Roger had no time to give a thought to that now, for the procession had reached the cage. It halted outside, and two of the priests entered and said something in soft tones.
"We don't understand," said Roger, in English. "We are not Spaniards, and we want to know why you have placed us in this cage. We are not wild beasts, and are ready to be friendly."
It was hopeless. The priest merely shook his head and beckoned to them.
"Try him with your tongue, Tamba," said Roger, in desperation. "Ah, I remember that you said you could not make them understand. I will try Spanish."
"We have nothing to do with your enemies," he said sternly, standing to his full height. "We wish you no harm. Let us have an interpreter, and we will explain."
Again he met with failure, while the priest still beckoned politely, and answered in soft tones. Roger looked about him desperately, and noticed that the other priests had now entered the cage, and had taken up their places near at hand. He measured them with his eye, and wondered whether he could kill them all if he fell upon them. Then he recollected the crowd outside, and pondered.
"Shall we go or stay?" he demanded of Tamba. "We could clear these fellows out of this and bar the door. Then they would be unable to get at us. Anything rather than be sacrificed."
"Perhaps that is not their wish, master," answered Tamba. "They speak softly to us, and there is no harshness. Supposing we went, deciding to resist only when they attempt to lay hands on us or to lash us. For to drive them from the cage and hold it would merely mean that they would shoot clouds of arrows at us. You can see their bows."
Roger looked, and saw that every man in the assembled throng carried a small bow and a quiver of arrows, while many also had a long club-shaped weapon thrust into belts about their waists. This was their sword, called the "maquahuitl," and consisted of a stick some three and a half feet long, about four inches thick at the biggest end, and was armed on either side with small blades of obsidian, a stone of extreme hardness, and capable of taking a razor edge. Indeed, these weapons could give a terrible wound, though the first stroke, if it met Spanish armour, was apt to break the stone, when the weapon became an ordinary club. In addition, others of the crowd carried lances, and a few slings, with a bag of stones about their shoulders. All were dressed in linen garments, which were clean and well made. It was obvious that resistance at this point was out of the question, and therefore Roger decided to put the best face on the matter.
"We will go with them," he said at length; "and do you keep a sharp eye on me, Tamba. I don't mean to be slaughtered without a struggle, and if I see that it is coming to that, I will make a rush at the nearest man with arms and seize them. One of those swords of theirs would suit me, though I would rather it were heavier and bigger. Now then; we will move. We are ready," he said, turning to the priests. "Keep close, Tamba. I don't like the look of these fellows."
With a bow he intimated that they would follow, and a minute later found them outside the cage. Then the procession reformed. The priests lined up on either side of their prisoners, the one in scarlet taking his place in front. A horn was blown, and they set off for the far side of the square, the warriors in their gorgeous trappings falling in behind, while the crowd followed in any order, their eyes fixed on the tall figure of the white man. Presently the procession passed out of the square, and Roger noted with a qualm that their steps were trending towards a gigantic tower which stood some little way in front. Was it the sacrificial tower, where men were slain to appease the god of war—the Mexican Mars? Roger looked askance at Tamba, and noted that he too was ill at ease. Then he turned his attention to his surroundings, marvelling at the beauty of the scene and at the thousands of well-dressed and prosperous people who surrounded them. Indeed, Mexico wasen fête. The surroundings of the square were thronged with the people, and all had their eyes fixed upon the white prisoner. They greeted his coming with shouts of joy and admiration, while mothers held their children up above their heads that they might see. On every side the flat roofs bore their human load, while numerous adjacent towers were black along that side which faced the larger one, the nodding of plumes and the gay colour of the clothing showing that people were also crowded there.
"We cause some attention to be shown," said Roger, beneath his breath. "It would seem as though these Mexicans wish to do honour to us, for watch how some throw themselves on their knees as we pass, while others wave their hands to us. Perhaps, after all, our fears are groundless."
Tamba shook his head disconsolately, for his conversation with the Aztec captive had told him another tale. However, he would not cause his master unnecessary alarm, and refrained, therefore, from answering.
"He will find out in good time," he murmured to himself. "Happier for him if I keep silent. For me, this death is nothing. A few weeks ago I would have welcomed any fate which took me from the Spaniards, and now all that I live for is this white man, my master. If he dies, then so will I also."
By now the procession had passed across a wide courtyard sprinkled thickly with scented blossoms, and was at the foot of the tower. The latter measured at least a hundred feet on each face, and rose for many yards till the first terrace was reached. There were three or four more above that, so that the summit overtopped the city. Leading the way to one corner, the priest in scarlet began to ascend by way of a flight of steps which passed round the sides of the tower, reaching the first terrace after encircling it once. There another flight commenced, and so on till the summit was reached. Not till then did Roger realize the significance of all this display, of the assembled crowds, and of their shouts of joy. Arrived on the summit, his eye lit upon a huge figure in the shape of a serpent, coloured and jewelled with numerous stones. Directly in front of this, and occupying such a position that all in the streets of Mexico could observe it, was an enormous green stone, with smoothed faces, and with convex top. But worse than all was the presence of blood on this stone, and upon the hideous image of the war god. Roger then knew that he had been brought to the sacrifice, and in an instant his resolve was taken.
"They shall cut me to pieces first before I submit," he said to Tamba. "Watch me now, and prepare to act. If one of those hideous priests approaches me, I will break away from the crowd and seize one of those corners. Look, Tamba there is a chapel or room of some sort over there. We will make it a fort."
There was no time for more. The black-robed priests advanced to the green stone altar and politely beckoned to Roger, while the crowds below became strangely silent, their eagerness stilling their tongues.
"Come," said the priest in the scarlet cloak, beckoning again, "we will not delay, or keep the war god waiting. Let the white stranger advance first and lie upon the altar."
The time had come. A priest closed in on either side of Roger, while others fell in behind. He was surrounded, and the moment for action had arrived.
Terrible indeed was the position in which Roger and Tamba found themselves, and there is little wonder that the former was goaded to desperation by the thought of the fate awaiting him. His figure was drawn to its fullest height and his muscles stood out tensely. There was a moisture on his forehead, while his hands were clammy with fear. In a dream he saw the scarlet-cloaked high priest, and marked his tattered and filthy locks, and the marks on his head and neck of self-inflicted penance. He saw the black-robed helpers at his elbow, the serpent form of the god of war, and the fire which burned before the idol and was never allowed to die out. Then his eye roamed to the others congregated on the summit of the tower, to the silent and expectant crowds in the streets below, on every housetop, and on the hundred and more towers which rose from the enormous enclosure in the heart of the city given up to the priesthood. He even noted the smoke of the sacrificial fires there, and wondered vaguely who lit them, and who replenished the fuel. Then the curving obsidian knife of the high priest caught his attention, while the touch of that individual's hand sent a thrill through him.
"The altar awaits you," said the priest, softly, as if he bore the utmost friendship for Roger. "We will not keep the god of war waiting."
His words and the touch of his hand awakened Roger thoroughly. A second or so before he had seemed dazed; but now he was in possession of his full vigour, both of mind and body. He stirred, beat the priest's hand away, and looked at Tamba.
"The time has come. Seize a weapon and follow me," he said.
At that instant the remaining priests closed round him, for it was their custom for four or five to lift the victim to the altar and hold him there while their chief performed the murderous act. Roger saw their meaning, and swung round suddenly; then he charged them, and with a blow to right and left scattered them on either side. A stately and gorgeous Mexican chief, one of the few who had come near to the cage that afternoon, stood near at hand, and in an instant Roger had him in his arms.
"To the chapel!" he shouted, "and prepare to bar the door if there is one. If not, look for something with which we can fill it, and keep these others out. Quick! The priests will be after us."
Bearing his captive on one arm, as if he were a child, he rushed across the summit of the tower, a hoarse roar of amazement and fury swelling the air as he did so. The entrance to a small chapel lay before him, and he followed Tamba through it, the latter having snatched a native sword as he ran.
"There is no door, master!" he called out in dismay. "There is only a curtain of feather work with bells at the bottom."
This, in fact, was the case, and it was the general arrangement throughout the temples and private houses of the Mexicans. They had no doors, and merely hung a curtain across the entrance, the curtain being very often of the most beautiful workmanship, and having attached at the bottom a number of bells made of tiny shells or of silver, which gave timely notice of the approach of a stranger.
Within the chamber all was gloomy at first after the brilliant sunshine outside. But in the space of a second or two Roger's eyes became accustomed to the half light, and he gave vent to a shout as he discovered an object.
"Here is a carving of some sort," he called out, "and made of stone, too. We must get it to the door. One moment, though."
In a twinkling he wrenched the arms from the hand and belt of his captive and flung him into a corner. Then he seized the object—one of the Mexican deities—while Tamba came eagerly to his help. They put their whole strength into the task, causing the idol to totter on its pedestal. It moved a few inches across the paved floor, and encouraged by this, Roger bent to the work with all his might.
"Now, together!" he shouted. "Shove with all your might. It moves! It is sliding along the floor. Again, and we have it in position."
At any other time it would have taken them at least a quarter of an hour to have moved this mass of stone, but fear and desperation had given them power which they could not have summoned on another occasion. As Roger's grasp riveted itself about the thigh and neck of the inanimate figure the whole idol swayed, and when Tamba pushed with his shoulder it glided with a grating sound across the tiles. Once they had got it to move they never rested till it was in the doorway, where it struck with a thud, presenting an almost impenetrable barrier to the enemy, and a face which was even more hideous than that of the god of war, to which the Mexicans had given such an unpronounceable name. However, though the mass of stone effectively checked a rush, it was still possible to reach the inmates of the chapel over the head and shoulders of the idol; and very soon those without showed that that was their intention. A head darkened the bright patch close to the top of the door, and a second followed. They were priests, and Roger determined to read them a lesson.
"Stand back, and watch this prisoner of mine," he said to Tamba. "Now see me deal with these butchers."
The sight of the priests seemed to madden him and stir his desperation, and as Tamba hastened to obey him, Roger stepped coolly across the tiles, and, with a quick movement, snatched at one of the priests. He was a tall, thin man, and our hero's grasp closed on his neck. With a wrench he drew him through the entrance, and with his other hand arrested the blow which the Mexican aimed at him. Then he caught him up, and, stepping closer, threw him with all his force at the head of his comrade. There was a thud. The body of the priest struck half against the one who was staring into the chapel, and half against the head and neck of the idol. But Roger had used all his force, and followed it up by a push which completed the task. A second later there was a dull thud, as the man he had just dealt with crashed through the narrow space and fell on the flags outside. Then, indeed, did Roger know of the presence of the crowd, for, from every quarter of the lake city, from the courtyards below, from the scented gardens on the roofs, and from the summit of a hundred towers, a hoarse roar of indignation and of rage came to his ears. It swelled into a fanatical shriek, which silenced the cries of those on the summit of the tower on which the war god stood, and it filled the tiny chapel in which the two fugitives had taken up their quarters. Even their prisoner heard it, though he was half dazed by the suddenness of the action which had snatched him from the middle of his friends. He heard, and lifted a face which showed the utmost consternation.
"The gods are indeed furious, and must be appeased," he said. "Why did you do such a thing? Surely you and your comrades have already caused sufficient suffering to us!"
He spoke in Spanish—in poor Spanish, it is true; but Roger could understand him, and at the sound of his voice turned with a flush on his cheek.
"Then you can speak the language?" he said angrily. "Why did you not offer to interpret when we were in the cage? I asked for some one to make us known to your friends, and to explain that we were not Spanish, but no one came forward. You were there. Why did you not proffer your services?"
It looked for a moment as if he would have done some injury to the noble, for that this Mexican undoubtedly was. But whatever his intention, it was frustrated within a second, for there was a shout outside, a mass of men threw themselves against the idol, and, using all their force, hurled it into the chapel. It fell backward on to the tiled floor with a crash, which split fragments from it. Then it rolled sideways and lay across the entrance, leaving a wide chasm above, through which a couple of men, or even three, could enter abreast; and on the far side it exposed a crowd of jewelled Mexicans and five furious priests, whose faces showed their animosity. At their feet, feebly endeavouring to rise to his knees, was the one whom Roger had treated so roughly.
For a few seconds there was a pause, while the opponents faced one another across the fallen image. Then there was a shout from the scarlet-robed priest. He and his helpers stood aside, while a number of fighting men filled their places, and these flung themselves at Roger, grabbing fiercely at him with their bare hands, as if they desired to take him alive and without the use of a weapon. In fact, this was their intention, following their usual custom in warfare, where they strove to capture prisoners for the sacrifice rather than to kill their enemies.
"Be ready to meet any who get past me!" shouted Roger, glancing over his shoulder towards Tamba, "and try to keep an eye on our prisoner. I will keep these fellows back with this club."
He had taken the Mexican's sword from him on entering the chapel, and had carried it since secured to his arm by a leathern thong attached to the handle for that purpose. With a swing he brought it into his hand, and as the enemy crushed into the opening and endeavoured to grapple with him, he struck fiercely at them. And he was only just in time, for one of the enemy leapt with reckless courage over the idol, and flung his arms round Roger's legs, while a second closed with him so swiftly that before very long he would have been helpless. But the native sword came to his aid. He lifted it well above his head, and brought it down on the shoulder of the last assailant with a crash which shook the breath from his body, and left him senseless on the tiles. For the first he found a summary means of ridding himself of his embrace; for with a sudden movement he loosened the man's grip, and then, before he could close round his legs again, he brought his knee up with a jerk which caused it to strike the Mexican full in the face. It was a terrible blow, and the man fell as if he had been felled with an axe. But there were others at hand, and, undeterred by the unfortunate ending of their comrades, they came on furiously, whistling and crying in shrill tones.
"Stand back!" shouted Roger, standing just within the doorway with the native sword, now little better than a club, over his shoulder, and looking like a lion at bay. "Stand back, or I will kill every soul who ventures to attack me!"
"He has insulted our gods! Bring him out and sacrifice him!" shrieked those outside. "Let us see this foreigner slain on the altar! Bring him out without delay!"
"Then I swear that many of you shall die before I am killed by your butchers!" shouted Roger, seeing that they were about to attack. "Up to this I have played with you; now I shall strike to kill!"
He was as good as his word, too, and for many minutes the scene at the narrow doorway was appalling and magnificent. There was no need as yet for Tamba to help his master, for Roger de Luce had already shown his prowess, and had fought with men who were fully armed and protected. Now he was contesting the path with natives who bore only the lightest armour, and who, moreover, sought to take him alive. But their numbers made the danger, and our hero realized that once he permitted more than three or four to enter alive he and Tamba would be dragged to the floor. It was therefore with the utmost fury that he set upon the attackers. Thanks to the fact that the entrance to the chapel was narrow, not more than three could come at him at one time, and these he cut down with terrific blows from his club. They staggered and fell, tumbling upon the idol, while a few rolled over it into the chapel. But still they came, till one blow, a little stronger than its predecessors, caused the club to break into fragments. Even then Roger would not give way, and, dropping the club, he flung himself upon the Mexicans after their own fashion, only, instead of attempting to grasp them, he struck right and left with his clenched fists till the entrance was cleared and the enemy retreated in consternation.
"We will rush them!" shouted Roger, seeing the effect which his fighting had made. "Leave the prisoner, Tamba, and follow! Close your fists and strike in every direction! Now, quickly, before those priests can rally them!"
There was just a bare chance of success, and they snatched at it eagerly. With a bound and a shout which helped to startle the natives, Roger cleared the entrance, his faithful companion close at his heel. Then he rushed at a group of the enemy who stood about the priests discussing the situation with them. There was a shriek of dismay. A few of the Mexicans faced their white prisoner, and endeavoured to check his advance, but the old methods succeeded. Roger's fist brought consternation to their minds, and hardly had the first opponent measured his full length on the ground than the others took to their heels and raced for the stairway which led to the courts below; nor did they halt till they were safely amongst the crowd.
"A hot fight," said Roger, breathlessly, and with a reckless laugh. "Never before have I used my fists to such purpose. Look at the knuckles. Even in England I never fought so much, nor struck so many blows. And they are really gone, Tamba?"
"All save the men who have fallen to your blows, my lord, and the noble whom you captured," answered the native, eyeing his master with amazement. "Truly it was a brave fight, and I have never seen men struck to the ground in such a way. Show me how it was done."
Roger doubled his fist, and displayed a row of knuckles from which the skin had been torn.
"Their teeth are sharp," he said, again with a reckless laugh, "and they fight with their mouths open. That is the way, Tamba; close the hand, and put the thumb so. Then hit out from the shoulder, and aim for the face. A good blow will fell an enemy. But what about these men who are lying about us? None are killed, except, perhaps, one or two whom I struck with the club. We must get rid of them; and, above all, we must take pains to keep our prisoner. Go to him now, and tell him that he will be killed if he attempts to escape. I will look at our enemies, and will place them on the flight of steps. Collect a few of the arms as you go, for we shall need them. And, Tamba——"
"What next, my lord?"
"Have a look into their pouches. Some may contain food, and we shall want it perhaps. I mean to remain here till I am exhausted or until these fellows admit their friendship for us. Those priests will be our worst foes. They will never forgive the rough treatment I have given them. There, off you go, and let me know what success you have."