_THE DOWNFALL OF AN EMPIRE._
The fate of the young commander of the garrison of Vera Cruz, and of
poor Morla, effected a speedy change in the sentiments of the whole of
the Spaniards towards their Mexican entertainers.
"When the Tlascalans entered upon hostilities with us," said Juan de
Cabrera, with a grim laugh, "they fed us up as men feed fowls, to
make them fatter eating for themselves; but then, like sturdy, blunt
warriors as they are, they told us so, whereas--"
"Ay," interrupted that hot-headed Velasquez, "whereas these
smooth-spoken scoundrels here fill our mouths with one hand, only that
our eyes may be covered while they give us a dose of itztli with the
other."
"Well, well," said Hernan Cortes himself, rather gravely, "it may be
so; and verily I hope it is, for I confess I would fain believe that we
are but about to meet treachery with treachery, and not true-hearted
generosity with cruelty."
The two officers glanced at one another significantly as they moved
away out of hearing, and Velasquez remarked irritably to his companion--
"Talk of true hearts, indeed! That Diego yonder is making the General
well-nigh as soft-hearted as himself. What is a soldier, i' faith, if
he sets up to have feelings for his foes?"
"I will tell thee," said the calm, clear voice of Montoro unexpectedly.
"I will tell thee, friend Leon. He is then a true knight, such a knight
as our Cid would have called comrades with, and not a rascal. But the
General is calling for us. Father Olmedo waits to say mass, and to
bless us ere we start."
"Finish your sentence, Toro," said Cabrera quietly, and with a smile,
as he passed on with him to the chapel they had fitted up for their own
services.
Montoro looked round at his companion with some slight surprise.
"What finish wouldst have to my sentence, Juan? I understand thee not."
The other laughed as he answered in low tones--
"Mind me not, my dear friend Long-face; but thou knowest well that thy
tongue ached to say--'ere we start on our kidnapping expedition.' Ah!"
with another low, merry laugh, "said I not truly? Thy face betrays
thee."
It was indeed true that Montoro de Diego regarded the present
intentions of his companions in anything but a favourable light,
although, unless they would retreat, he knew well enough that some
strong measure was needful under present circumstances.
All he could do now he did. Whilst Fathers Olmedo and Juan Diaz were
engaged in the celebration of mass, he offered up the most fervent,
heartfelt prayers that the Father of all would have pity upon all His
children, that the Almighty Lord of the universe would so order all
things that they should further His kingdom upon earth, and His glory.
The mass ended, Cortes at once set out for the palace of Montezuma,
accompanied by a trusty band of his officers--the inflexible,
sunny-haired Alvarado, the fiery Velasquez de Leon, the intrepid and
upright Sandoval, the wary Lugo, Davila, ready-handed, careless and
fearless Juan de Cabrera, and the calm, keen-eyed, dependable, noble
Montoro de Diego.
Montoro did not, could not, approve of the new, stern step about
to be attempted for the conquest of Mexico. Nevertheless, when he
unobtrusively placed himself by the General's side, Cortes knew well
enough that, should the matter on hand come to bloodshed, Montoro de
Diego would die before his General suffered hurt.
Arrived at the palace, the unsuspecting monarch gave his usual gracious
and ready assent to his guests' demand for an audience. His oracles of
old had foretold the coming of white-faces as gods, or the messengers
of the gods, and so he ever treated them with a singular reverential
courtesy, even when he had learnt to recognize them as scourges of
evil, rather than the bright angels of mercy, teaching and blessing, he
had been led to look for and to await with eager hopefulness.
Stationed cautiously, at various intervals between their barracks and
the royal residence, were companies of the Spanish soldiers, armed
to the teeth, ready to support their General and their officers in
case of need. The guns were loaded, and pointed at the palace. Every
preparation and precaution was attended to that prudence or foresight
could dictate, and with that consciousness Cortes advanced to the
undertaking with his usual air of bold, calm confidence.
The poor Emperor was in a specially bright, gay humour. He entered
into a cheerful conversation, through the interpreters, with the
young Spanish knights, and to prove his brotherly attachment to
'Malinche,' offered him one of his daughters for a wife. He pleased
his own generous love of giving, and his guests' love of receiving, by
lavishing costly and elegant little gifts upon them after his usual
fashion.
Cabrera caught sight suddenly of Montoro de Diego's scornful, curling
lip, and eyes flashing with indignation, as Velasquez de Leon bent his
head to have a gold chain hung about his neck.
"What is it now, good Long-face?" he muttered, in some slight surprise.
"Methought that thou wouldst be well satisfied with this interval of
amity."
Montoro turned upon his friend with the fierceness of his ungovernable
boyhood.
"I would that yon poor monarch's gifts could burn ye all!" he exclaimed
passionately. "The base love of gold hath turned Spaniards into a crew
of the meanest hounds that walk the earth. Even a cat would not accept
a gift from the mouse it meant to kill."
But Montoro's generous wrath acted as the unintentional signal for the
consummation of the proposed act of treachery. His angry words and
looks startled the Emperor, and Cortes took advantage of his anxious
queries to reply to them in his own way. Suddenly dropping the mask of
smiles from his face, he exclaimed sternly--
"Can it surprise you, Montezuma, that my followers should show some
tokens of indignation, when their well-loved comrades have been slain
by your generals, during the very hours when you have made pretence to
grasp their hands as brothers?"
The Emperor's face paled somewhat.
"It has been no pretence, Malinche. I have learnt to love and trust
you."
"Then prove your words," cried Cortes, with a rapid glance round at
his Spanish officers, who gathered instantly close up about him and
the Emperor,--that poor Emperor, who had already, one would think,
sufficiently proved his trust by dismissing all his own faithful guards
and attendants from the apartment where he entertained his treacherous
visitors. "Then prove your words," exclaimed Cortes a second time,
striding a step nearer to the trembling monarch. "Trust yourself to
our care for awhile. We have been your guests; now be our guest in our
quarters, until you have proved your innocence of this cruel slaughter
of our comrades. So only will we credit what you say."
Montezuma rose from his pile of cushions, and grasping the embroidered
hangings of the wall behind him for support, he replied, with a brave
effort at self-command, and with returning dignity--
"Nay, ye white-faces, as messengers from the gods have I received you;
but you, as a culprit prisoner would hold me in your power."
"Not would, but will, or as a corpse," exclaimed that hot-brained
Velasquez de Leon; and, drawing his sword with unforeseen speed, he had
it already touching the Emperor's breast, before Montoro could spring
forward and dash it down again.
But the rash, discourteous act had pushed matters to an extremity
beyond recall. Even had Hernando Cortes felt any inclination to repent
of his harsh purpose, it would now truly have been impossible. After
suffering such a gross indignity Montezuma must have consulted his high
estate by destroying, or expelling, the handful of foreigners who had
dared to inflict it, were he able. Even he seemed conscious of this new
aspect of the affair.
"Do you desire to have me in your power that you may kill me?" he asked
at length, with a tone of calm despair that touched even Cortes' heart.
He answered eagerly--
"Nay, verily. You profess affection for me; I swear to it for you. But
I cannot let my followers be slain with impunity. I have their lives to
answer for to my sovereign."
"That may well be," was the answer. "But now they are slain; and
although, on my kingly word I declare, without my will or knowledge, I
yet profess my deepest grief for the mischance. What would you more,
Malinche?"
"That you should come with us now," was the ready answer. "Not as a
prisoner, as you put it, but as an honoured guest, surrounded by your
own attendants, and free of access to all your subjects as you are here
in your own palace."
"And for how long to remain such a guest?" asked Montezuma. He was
beginning to waver, not indeed from inward conviction of the truth of
the plausible words, but from a growing knowledge that they covered
an iron, inflexible resolve; and that he would be allowed no power to
summon any of his subjects to his aid from this snare, but at the peril
of instant death from that circle of ready, flashing swords. "How long
would you that I should thus abide amongst you, Malinche?"
"Until Guanhpopoea and his warriors shall have obeyed your summons
hither, to answer for their crimes."
"Crimes," repeated the Emperor. "Their crime, it is but one, Malinche."
"Not so," was the stern, cold answer, while Hernando's piercing eyes
fixed themselves with a full gaze upon the monarch's face. "Not so,
your Majesty. For one crime, there is the unprovoked slaughter of our
brethren. That is for us to avenge. For the other crime, there is the
presumptuous warfare waged by your general against those with whom
you are at peace, and without your will or knowledge. That is the act
of a rebel. That is for you to avenge, that insult to your supreme
authority. And it merits--death!"
Before that look, and at that word, Montezuma blanched, as before a
fatal blow, and he grew pale as death himself. Even Montoro, in his
secret heart, asked himself whether a faithful general were not about
to suffer, not for presumption, but for too great fidelity to one who
knew the arts of treachery, and of wearing a double face, almost as
well as did his Spanish brethren themselves.
One more feeble effort Montezuma made to maintain the dignity of his
sovereignty.
"My people will never submit to such an indignity for me, as that I
should quit my own royal domain to take up my dwelling with a handful
of needy strangers, who have to be dependent on our bounty even for the
food they eat."
But this last remonstrance was as vain as all the others had been.
"Your word is law with your people," said Cortes. "Give your orders,
and you will be obeyed. I, on my part, swear to you, by St. Jago, that
nought now or ever, on the part of myself or my followers, shall lower
you in the eyes of your subjects."
And so far, to the letter, Cortes did at least keep his word. From
the outward show of respect and deference towards the unhappy monarch
he never permitted his rough soldiers to depart, when that golden
litter, and the Aztec nobles, had for the second time borne the once
all-powerful Emperor of Mexico to those Spanish quarters, which were
henceforth to be his sad prison during the short remainder of his life.
Montezuma had been in his gilded bondage but a few days when the
noble chieftain Guanhpopoea, his son, and fifteen lesser Aztec
chiefs, arrived in proud obedience to the summons, and in like proud,
speechless submission suffered the cruel punishment decreed them by
Cortes, of being burnt alive. They had but done their duty in trying to
rid their sovereign of encroaching strangers, who refused all requests
to leave a country to which they had not been invited.
The chiefs were burnt alive in the courtyard of the Spaniards' palace;
Montezuma sat manacled in an apartment above, mute with a despair only
to be equalled by the shame and grief with which the heart of Montoro
de Diego felt bowed to the very dust.
He had saved ere now many an Indian from his threatened fate. This time
he was powerless.