While these occurrences were transpiring, Don Amador de Leste, in search
of the knight, had rambled through the streets, and following, very
naturally, the only path with which he was acquainted, soon found
himself issuing from that gate by which he had entered from Tlascala.
The domination of the Spaniards had interrupted many of the civil, as
well as the religious, regulations of the Cholulans; and, with their
freedom, departed that necessity and habit of vigilance, which had
formerly thronged their portals with watchmen. No Indian guards,
therefore, were found at the gate; and the precautions of the general
had not carried his sentinels to this neglected and seemingly secure
quarter. The neophyte passed into the fields, and though hopeless, in
their solitudes, of discovering the retreat of the penitent, was seduced
to prolong his walk by the beauty of the night and by the many pensive
thoughts to which it gave birth. How many times his reflections carried
him back to the land of his nativity, to the surges that washed the Holy
Land, to the trenches of Rhodes to the shores of Granada, need not be
here related, nor, if he gave many sighs to the strange sorrow and
stranger destiny of his kinsman, is it fitting such emotions should be
recorded. He wandered about, lost in his musings, until made sensible,
by the elevation of the moon, that he had trespassed upon the hour of
midnight. Roused by this discovery from his reveries, he returned upon
his path, and had arrived within view of the gate, when he was arrested
by the sudden appearance of four men, running towards him at a rapid
gait, and presenting to his vision the figures of Indian warriors. No
sooner had these fugitives approached near enough to perceive an armed
cavalier intercepting the road, than they paused, uttering many quick
and, to him, incomprehensible exclamations. But, though he understood
not their language, he was admonished, by their actions, of the
necessity of drawing his sword and defending himself from attack; for
the foremost, hesitating no longer than to give instructions to his
followers, instantly advanced upon him, flourishing a heavy axe of
obsidian. Somewhat surprised at the audacity of this naked barbarian,
but in no wise daunted at the number of his supporters, the cavalier
lifted his trusty Bilboa, fully resolved to teach him such a lesson as
would cause him to remember his temerity for ever; but, almost at the
same moment, his wrath vanished, for he perceived, in this assailant,
the young ambassador of the preceding evening; and, remembering the
words of De Morla, he felt reluctant to injure one of the princes of the
unhappy house of Montezuma.
"Prince!" said he, elevating his voice, but forgetting his want of an
interpreter, "drop thy sword, and pass by in peace; for _I_ have not yet
declared war against thy people, and I am loath to strike thee."
But the valiant youth, misconceiving or disregarding both words and
gestures, only approached with the more determination, and swung his
bulky weapon over his head, as if in the act of smiting, when one of his
followers, exclaiming eagerly, "Ho, Quauhtimotzin! forbear!" sprang
before him, and revealed to Don Amador the countenance of the Moor
Abdalla.
"Thou art safe, senor!" cried the Almogavar, "and heaven be thanked for
this chance, that shows thee I have not forgotten thy benefits!"
The assurance of Abdalla was presently confirmed; for the young prince,
seeing the action of the Moor, lowered his weapon, and merely surveying
the cavalier with an earnest look, passed by him on his course, and was
followed by the two others. Meanwhile Don Amador, regarding the
Almogavar, said,--
"I know not, good Sidi,--notwithstanding this present service, for which
I thank thee,--not so much because thou hast stepped between me and
danger, (for, it must be apparent to thee, I could, with great ease,
have defended myself from such feeble assailants,) but because thou hast
freed me from the necessity of hurting this poor prince;--I say,
notwithstanding all this, Abdalla, I know not whether I should not now
be bound to detain thee, and compel thee to return to the general; for
it is not unknown to me, that thou art, at this moment, a deserter and
traitor."
"Senor!" said the Moor, withdrawing a step, as if fearing lest the
cavalier would be as good as his word, "my treason is against my
misfortunes, and I desert only from injustice; and if my noble lord
knows thus much, he knows also, that to detain me, would be to give me
to the gallows."
"I am not certain," said Don Amador, "that my intercession would not
save thy life; unless thou hast been guilty of more crimes than I have
heard."
"Guilty of nothing but misfortune!" said the Moor, earnestly; "guilty of
nothing but the crimes of others, and of griefs, which are reckoned
against me for sins!--"
"Guilty," said the cavalier, gravely, "of treating in secret with these
barbarians, who are esteemed the enemies of thy Christian friends; and
guilty of seducing into the same crime thy countrymen, the Moriscos; one
of whom, I am persuaded, did but now pass me with the Indians, and one
of whom, also, hath charged thee with tempting him."
"Senor," said Abdalla, hurriedly, "I cannot now defend myself from these
charges, for I hear my enemies in pursuit."
"And guilty," added Don Amador, with severity, "as I think, of deserting
thine own flesh and blood,--thy poor and friendless boy, Abdalla!"
The Almogavar flung himself at the feet of the cavalier, saying,
wildly,--
"My flesh and blood! and friendless indeed! unless thou wilt continue to
protect him. Senor, for the love of heaven, for the sake of the mother
who bore you, be kind and true to my boy! Swear thou wilt protect him
from malice and wrong; for it was his humanity to thy kinsman, the
knight, that has robbed him of his father."
"Dost thou confess, thou wert about to steal him from his protector?
Now, by heavens, Moor, this is but an infidel's ingratitude!"
"Senor!" said Abdalla, "you reproached me for forsaking him; and now you
censure me for striving not to forsake him! But the sin is mine, not
Jacinto's. I commanded him to follow me, senor; and he would have obeyed
me, had he not found thy knight Calavar swooning among the ruins. He
tarried to give him succour, and thus was lost; for the soldiers came
upon him."
"Is this so, indeed? My kinsman left swooning! Thou wert but a knave,
not to tell me this before."
"The knight is safe--he has robbed me of my child," said Abdalla,
throwing himself before the neophyte. "Go not, senor, till thou hast
promised to requite his humanity with the truest protection."
"Surely he shall have that, without claiming it."
"Ay, but promise me! swear it to me!" cried the Moor, eagerly. "Don
Hernan will be awroth with him. The cavaliers will call him mine
accomplice."
"They will do the boy no wrong," said Amador; "and I know not why thou
shouldst ask me the superfluity of an oath."
"Senor, I am a father, and my child is in a danger of which thou knowest
not! For the love of God, give me thy vows thou wilt not suffer my child
to be wronged!"
"I promise thee this; but acquaint me with this new and unknown peril.
If it be the danger of an accusation of witchcraft, I can resolve thee,
that that is not regarded by the general."
"Senor, my pursuers are nigh at hand," cried Abdalla, "and I must fly! A
great danger besets Jacinto, and thou canst preserve him. Swear to me,
thou wilt not wrong him, and suffer me to depart."
"Wrong him!" said the cavalier. "Thou art beside thyself.--Yet, as it
does appear to me, that the soldiers are approaching us, I will give
thee this very unreasonable solace.--I swear to thee very devoutly,
that, while heaven leaves me my sword and arm, and the power to protect,
no one shall, in any way, or by any injustice, harm or wrong the boy
Jacinto."
"I will remember thy promise, and thee!" cried the Almogavar, seizing
his hand and kissing it.
"Tarry, Abdalla. Reflect;--thou rushest on many dangers. Return, and I
will intercede for thy pardon."
But the Moor, running with great speed after his companions, was almost
already out of sight; and Don Amador, musing, again turned his face
towards Cholula.
"If I meet these soldiers," he soliloquized, "I must, in honour,
acquaint them with the path of the Moor; whereby Abdalla may be
captured, and put to death on the spot. I am resolute, I cannot, by
utterly concealing my knowledge of this event, maintain the character of
a just and honest gentleman; yet, it appears to me, my duty only compels
me to carry my information to the general. This will I do, and by
avoiding the pursuers, preserve the obligations of humanity to the
fugitive, without any forfeit of mine honour."
Thus pondering, and walking a little from the path, until the pursuers
had passed him, he returned to the quarters.