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
into _macana_,--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 senor 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, senor 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 with
_thee_--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 senor 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, senor 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!"
"_I_ am 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!--_thou_
ashamed!--_thy_ countenance!--deserving of _thy_ countenance, thou
ill-mannered, bog-brained churl and ass! Thou wilt give the young senor
thy hand! If thou dost but lift it, I will smite it off with my
battle-axe. Curmudgeon! _I_ thy 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, senor!" 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, senor, 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!--_I_ afflict!" cried Gaspar, fiercely; "I quarrel
with your enemies!--ay, _a 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, senor; 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 provoke _thee_."
"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 the _itzli_[6] is sharp in his hand. Shall he
strike?"
[Footnote 6: _Itzli_, the obsidian or volcanic glass.]
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, senor? 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 did _not_."
"Come, senor 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, senor 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, senor, 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."
"Senor 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, senor, 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. Senor, 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.