"Yesterday, when thou wert sleeping," said the Zegri, "or lay as one
that slept----"
"That day, then," muttered Amador, "is a blank in my existence! and
very grievous it is, to think that so great a space of so short a
period as life, should be lost in a stony lethargy.--It seems to me,
that that blow thou gavest me, was somewhat rounder than was
needful.--Nevertheless, I am not angry, but grateful."
"Yesterday was a day of comparative peace," continued the Zegri. "The
Spaniards shut themselves in their citadel, preparing for the greater
exploit of to-day. It was evident to the dullest of the nobles, that Don
Hernan had cast an evil eye on the temple."
"Did he so?" cried the cavalier. "It was the thought of a good
Christian: and, methinks, my countrymen had not been judged with so many
of these present torments, if they had sooner torn down that strong-hold
of the devil, which is detestable in the eye of heaven."
"To-day, they marched against it," said Abdalla, "with all their force,
both of Spaniards and Tlascalans; and, I will say for them, that they
marched well, fought boldly, and revenged their own heavy losses, in the
blood of many barbarians, as well on the pyramid as in the temple-yard
and the streets. They came against us, with four such turrets, moving on
wheels----"
"Is it possible," cried Amador, "that the general was not sufficiently
warned of the inefficacy of those engines, by the doleful fate of the
manta, that day, when it was my mishap to be vanquished?--I shall
remember the death of the ship-master, Gomez, to the end of my
life.--Twice or thrice, did I long to be with him among the
fire-worshippers, who must be a very strange people. But the Mexicans
are very valiant."
"Of a truth, they are," said the Zegri. "I will not detain my lord with
the account of the battle in the streets, wherein the mantas were again,
in great part, destroyed; nor will I relate, with what suffering the
Castilians won their way to the Wall of Serpents, and the temple-yard.
It was here, that I beheld my lord's kinsman, the knight of Calavar,
unhorsed, and in the hands of the infidel----"
"Accursed assassin!" cried the neophyte, springing to his feet, "and
hast thou kept me in bonds, that my knight should perish thus, without
succour?"
"The foe of Granada did not perish, and he was not without succour,"
said the Zegri, loftily. "When his steed, slipping on the polished
stones, with which that yard is paved, fell to the earth, and many
savage hands were fastened on his body, there was a friend hard by, who
raised both the knight and charger, and preserved them from
destruction."
"Give me the name of that most noble friend," cried Don Amador,
ardently,--"for, I swear, I will reckon this act to him, in my
gratitude, as the salvation of my own life. Tell me, what true Christian
was he?"
"One," said Abdalla, calmly, "who hated him as the slayer of his people,
but remembered that he repented his evil acts with misery and
distraction,--one, who abhorred him for these deeds of sin, and yet
loved him, because he was, like his kinsman, the protector of childhood
and feebleness."
"I doubt not, that _thou_ wert the man," said the cavalier, faltering,
"and, therefore, I return thee my thanks. But I would have thee know,
that, whatever blood was improperly shed by my kinsman, was shed by
accident and not design; for, no man is more incapable of cruelty than
the noble knight, Don Gabriel. But, this shows me, that thou art really
of lofty blood; for none but a magnanimous soul can render justice to a
hated enemy."
"Why should I dwell upon the conflict in the yard?" continued the Moor,
hastily. "Through the flames of the many chapels, that filled it,--with
shouts and the roar of muskets,--the Christians, ever victorious, and
yet ever conquered even by victory, rushed against the steps of the
pyramid, disregarding the stones tumbled on them from the terraces, the
darts flung down from the little barbicans or niches in the wall, and
the flaming logs shot down, endwise, from the steps. Terrace after
terrace, stair after stair, were won; and the Christians stood, at last,
on the summit, fighting hand to hand with the four thousand nobles who
defended it. My lord cannot think, that even these numbers of naked men
could long withstand a thousand Christians, robed in iron, and
infuriated by desperation. Score after score were slain, and tumbled
from the top; the flames burst from the altar of Mexitli,--the priest
died in the sanctuary, the Tlatoani at the downfallen urns; and, in an
hour's time, the Spaniards were masters of the pyramid."
"Thanks be to heaven, which fought with them!" cried Amador, devoutly.
"And thus may the infidel fall!"
"Does not my lord pity the wretches, who die for their country?" said
the Zegri, reproachfully. "This is not a war of heaven against hell, but
of tyranny against freedom.--I did see some sights, this day, upon the
pyramid, which caused me to remember those noble Roman generals, who, in
ancient times, were wont to devote themselves to death, for the good of
the state. At the very moment when the condition of the Mexicans was
most dreadful, when, despairing of the usefulness of longer resistance,
they rushed frantically upon the Spanish spears, transfixing themselves
by their own act, or flung themselves from the pyramid, to be dashed to
pieces below,--at this moment, I beheld, with mine own eyes, two very
young and noble Tlatoani, to whom I had myself just shown a means of
escape, rush upon Don Hernan, who fought very valiantly throughout the
day. They cast away their arms, flung themselves at his feet, as if to
supplicate for mercy; and having thus thrown the general off his guard,
they seized him, on a sudden, in their arms, and hurried him to the edge
of the terrace. From that dizzy brink they strove to drag him, willing,
themselves, to die dreadfully, so that the great enemy of Tenochtitlan
should fall with them. But the strength of boys yielded to the iron
grasp of the Christian; and, flinging them from him like drops of water,
or gouts of blood from his wounded hand, he beheld them fall miserably
to the earth,--dead, but not yet avenged."
"Thanks be to God again!" cried the cavalier, warming with excitement;
"for, though these youths met their death very bravely, they were guilty
of a most vile treachery; for which, death was but a just punishment.
And so, my true and excellent friends did win this battle? By heaven! it
galls me to the marrow, to think that I lie here idle, while such things
are doing around me!"
"They won the temple top," said Abdalla, with a laugh of scorn, "that
they might look down from that height, and behold themselves surrounded
by an hundred thousand men, who were busy slaying their Tlascalan
slaves, and waiting for the masters. Very plainly did I hear their cries
of despair at that sight; and these were goodly music. For myself, I
escaped, as did some few others, by dropping from terrace to terrace,
upon the dead bodies, which, being tumbled, in great numbers, from the
top, lay, in some places, in such heaps along the galleries, as greatly
to lessen the dangers of a fall. Well were the Mexicans revenged for
this slaughter," continued the Moor, his eyes glittering with ferocious
transport, "when the Spaniards descended, to cut their way to the
quarters, encumbered with captive priests, and such provisions as they
had gathered in the chapels. How many fell in the squares and streets,
how many were suffocated in the canals,--how few were able to pierce
through the myriads that invested the palace, (for, all this time, had
there been thousands assailing the weak garrison, and tearing down the
court-yard wall)--why should I speak of these? It is enough, that the
gain of the pyramid,--lost as soon as gained,--cost them irreparable wo;
and that the wounded fugitives (for the Mexican glass drank of the blood
of all,) now lie in their desolate house, their court-walls prostrate,
the buttresses of their palace cracked by fire, their steeds unfed and
starving, their ammunition expended--hopeless and helpless, calling to
the leaders who cannot relieve, the saints who will not hear, and
waiting only for death. Death then! for it cometh; death! for it is
inevitable; death! for it is just; and death! for it repays the wrongs
of Granada!"
As the triumphing Moor concluded his fiery oration, the cavalier, whose
excitement was raised to the last pitch, and whose indignation and
remorse were alike kindled by a full knowledge of the condition of his
countrymen, cried aloud,--
"Hark thee, sir Moor! with these friends, thus reduced to extremity and
despairing, it is needful I should straightway join myself, to endure
what they endure, to suffer as they suffer, to die as they die. I refuse
to save my life, when the forfeit of it to an honourable purpose, may
relieve them of their distresses. I repent me of the gage which I gave
thee, I revoke my promise of captivity, and am, therefore, free to make
my escape; which I hereby attempt,--peacefully if I can,--but warning
thee, if thou oppose, it shall be at the peril of thy life!"
So saying, the cavalier snatched up the sword from the table, and sprang
towards the door. So quickly, indeed, did he act, and so much did he
take his jailer by surprise, that he had nearly arrived at the curtain,
before Abdalla had time to intercept him. His brain was in a ferment of
passion, and the various excitements of the evening had inflamed him
again into fever; so, that, in the fury of the moment, when the Zegri
leaped before him, endeavouring to catch him in his arms, he forgot
every thing but his purpose, and the necessity of escaping. He caught
the Moor by the throat, and struggling violently, raised the crimson
steel to strike. The life of Abdalla seemed not to have a moment's
purchase,--the weapon was already descending on his naked head,
when,--at that very instant,--the curtain was drawn from the door, and
dimly, but yet beyond all shadow of doubt, in the light of the torch,
the cavalier beheld the pale visage of the maid of Almeria, shining over
the shoulders of the Moor.
The sword fell from his hand, and his whole frame shook, as, with wild
eyes, he returned the gaze of the vision. The Zegri, amazed, yet not
doubting that this sudden change was the mere revolution of delirium,
took instant advantage of it, snatched the leathern strap from the lute
of Jacinto; and when the curtain, falling again, had concealed the
spectral countenance, the arms of the cavalier were bound tightly behind
him. This was a superfluous caution. His strength had been supplied by
fury, and the instant that this had subsided, the exhaustion of two
days' illness returned; and had not his spirits been otherwise unmanned,
he would now have been as a boy in the hands of Abdalla.
The Moor conducted him to the couch, on which he suffered himself to be
placed without opposition, and without speaking a word. His whole
faculties seemed lost in a sudden and profound stupor; and Abdalla began
to fear that, in his prisoner, he had found, in more respects than one,
a true representative of his kinsman, Don Gabriel.