"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 himOcelotlorOcelotzin, 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, ormuchmore 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.
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 intomacana,—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 withthee—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!"
"Iam 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!—thouashamed!—thycountenance!—deserving ofthycountenance, 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!Ithy 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!—Iafflict!" 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 provokethee."
"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 theitzli[6]is sharp in his hand. Shall he strike?"
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 didnot."
"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.
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 notthat. 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.
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 androundeach 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 yearsafterthis 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 muchearlier, 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.
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]
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 acamoncillo, 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 ofhim,—ofhisreturn 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, theCapitan 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!"
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; Icommandedyou 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.