"Senor Juan Lerma," said Cortes, when the last of the assemblage had
reluctantly departed:--He had descended from the platform, and spoke
with a voice, which, if not decidedly friendly, was, at least, free from
every trace of sternness:--"Senor Juan Lerma, I have to say, that for
the result of your enterprise, however it has been attended by calamity,
you deserve both thanks and honours; and it will rest upon your own
determination whether you shall obtain them or not. Some things there
are, growing out of this affair, of which it becomes me to speak; and
thereby I shall give you an opportunity to remove certain stains not yet
washed from your good name; and after that, to take off others that are
thought to attach to mine. Hast thou not heard of those fierce and fatal
wars, that broke out in Mexico shortly after thy departure."
"I have," said Juan; "the king's spies brought the news to Tzintzontzan;
and they were not only lamentable to hear, but they caused us to be cast
into cages, and devoted, as we feared, to die the death of sacrifice:
For know, senor, the sanguinary Mexitli is the god of all this land."
"And hadst thou no suspicion, before departing, that these wars were
brewing, and threatening us with destruction? Thou wert somewhat quicker
in catching the heathen tongue than others, and wert not without
counsellors and friends even among the household of Montezuma."
To this demand, the young man, though embarrassed by the innuendo that
followed it, did not hesitate to answer:
"I had such suspicions, and I made them known to your excellency."
"You did indeed," said Cortes, musingly; "and I derided them, being
somewhat heated at the time: but counsel to an irritated temper is even
sharper than salt on a wounded skin.--This knowledge, senor," he went
on, "some will impute to thee as good reason why thou shouldst loiter
fourteen months in the wilderness, to avoid sharing in our perils, which
were somewhat more horrible than have ever before beset Christian men."
"This," said Juan, firmly, and a little dryly, for there was something
in the tone of the speaker, which, though he knew not why, impressed him
unpleasantly,--"this is to make me a coward, which your excellency will
not believe me to be."
"By my conscience, no!" said Cortes, with emphasis. "Without much
thought of this present expedition of which we speak, there is no man
will accuse thee of fear, who has heard of thy voyage in the fusta. By
my conscience, a most mad piece of daring!" he continued as if in
admiration, although it was observable, that, while he spoke, his
countenance darkened, as though there were some disagreeable thought
associated with the recollection. "No," he went on, "there will be more
said of anger and ambition than of terror. Thou knowest, we have envy
and detraction about us, that spare none. I can hear, already, how
Villafana and other knaves of his peevish, malicious temper, will speak
of thee.--They will speak of thy causes for resentment, of the promised
favour of the plotting king, a principality among the lakes, with the
hope of loftier succession, and the hand of the princely Maiden of the
Star,----"
"And this," cried Juan, interrupting the general, "this is to make me a
traitor and apostate! Senor, I doubt not that the senor Guzman is at the
bottom of all this slander: and I therefore claim to defie,--"
"Peace! wilt thou put thyself in opposition again? If thou dost but
raise thy hand in wrath, save against an infidel enemy, thou wert better
never to have been born!"
The sudden sternness with which these words were uttered, checked the
impetuosity of the youth, and filled him again with anxious forebodings.
The general, instantly resuming the milder tones with which he had
spoken before, continued,
"So much will be said of _thee_. Before I offer thee my hand, in token
that I desire to forget everything of the past, but that I once truly
loved thee, and before I propose to thee a new and honourable
duty,--hear,--not what will be, but what has been said of _myself_, in
relation to thine expedition and to thee."
Here the general paused a moment, eyeing the youth intently, as if to
read his most secret thoughts; then continuing, he said, with the utmost
gravity,
"It has been said of me, senor Juan Lerma, that I sent thee upon thy
enterprise of the South Seas, in the malicious thought that the blow of
savages might execute the sentence of vengeance I cared not to commit to
a Christian assassin. What thinkest thou of this?"
"Even that it is the blackest and insanest of slanders; and that it
shows me, I have little cause to marvel at my own loss of credit, when I
find that malice can aim even at your excellency's. Whatever may have
been your anger, I never believed your excellency would conceal it, much
less expend it, in secret vengeance upon a feeble wretch like myself."
"Thou hast but little worldly knowledge," said the Captain-General, half
smiling, "or thou wouldst know, that revenge is of a reptile's nature,
crawling rather in secret among dark thickets than openly over sunny
plains, and none the less venomous, that it can lie half a year torpid.
Neither put thou much trust in innocent looks; which, to a shrewd eye,
are like sea-water,--the smoother they lie, the deeper can they be
looked into."
Having pronounced these metaphorical maxims with much gravity, his eye
all the time bent on the youth, Cortes paused for a moment, as if for a
reply; when, receiving none, for, in truth, Juan, not well comprehending
them, knew not what to answer, he continued,
"Let us understand one another. There has been strife between
us,--strife and ill-will. I have perhaps done you injustice: I thought I
had cause. By my conscience, young man, I once loved you very well--I
have been sorry for you."
"I have deserved your displeasure," said Juan, hurriedly, moved by the
earnestness with which the general spoke; "but, I hope, not beyond
forgiveness."
"Surely not, surely not," said Cortes; "but what I may forget as thy
friend, I am still bound to consider as thy general. I am now the king's
officer, and it becomes me, forgetting all private feelings, to know no
friends but those who approve themselves true and valuable servants of
his majesty. In this character, I must remember some of thy past acts
with disfavour; but in both, it is not improper I should desire thou
shouldst have opportunity fully to retrieve thy good name, and, in spite
of envy and detraction, to deserve such friendship as I have shown thee
in former years."
The exile pondered a moment over the words of the general, in more
indecision than before. They spoke of friendship and kindness, and
seemed to offer an apology for severity that was rather official than
personal; and yet, in this apology, was a degree of reproach, of which
it appeared Cortes's resolution to keep him always sensible.
Nevertheless, this very tone of complaint served to soothe the little
exasperation of feelings which had remained in Juan's breast, while
smarting under a sense of wrong and injustice. Anger both irritates and
hardens the heart; reproach softens, while it distresses. It seemed
obvious to Juan, that Cortes, while apprizing him that a full
reconciliation had not yet taken place, was willing, nay anxious, that
it should. He answered therefore with the greatest fervour,
"If your excellency will but show me in what manner I may regain your
favour--at least your belief that I have not wantonly rejected it--I
call heaven to witness, I will remember it as such an act of kindness as
that which _this_ must ever keep me in memory of."
As he spoke, he touched with his finger a rapier-scar on his right
breast, which the narrowness and peculiar fashion of his mantle scarcely
enabled him to conceal, even when so disposed.
At this sight, Cortes seemed disordered, if not offended, saying after
striding to and fro for an instant,
"Let these follies be forgotten! Bury the past, and think only of the
future. It is true, I avenged thy wrong--It gives me no pleasure to
remember it.--Did I think this, when I made thee my son,--fed thee at my
board, lodged thee on my couch, advanced thee, honoured thee, fought thy
battles? did I think _this_? Pho! Juan Lerma, thou hast not repaid me
well!"
"Senor!" said Juan, surprised and confounded by the sudden and
reproachful bitterness of these words; "when I presumed to speak to you
in opposition to your measures, it was with the boldness--the folly--of
affection, jealous for your excellency's--your excellency's--"
"Honour!" said Cortes, sharply. "Let us speak of this no more. To
business, senor, to business. Leave mine honour to mine own keeping:
thou wilt find, I have it even in my thoughts. To business, to business.
What say ye, Councillors?--Wilt thou truly steal my dog from me? If you
rob me of naught else, it is no matter.--What say you, senor Capitan Del
Salto? what say you, Sandoval? Is this young man fit to be entrusted
with a captain's command? He was a good Cornet.--Can we confide to him a
duty of danger and trust? His pilgrimage to the Hummingbird-land,
methinks, was well conducted. What say you? I have a goodly thought for
him--But I will abide your better judgment."
"By St. James," said Alvarado, "there is no braver lad in the army; and
were he but of clear hidalgo lineage, I should say, give him a command
with the best. But here is my thought: he is a good sailor, especially
in piraguas and galleys: give him a brigantine. I will crave to have him
in the squadron attached to mine own division."
"In my mind," said Sandoval, "he is good for the land service. It is
needful we revenge the death of Salcedo and his eighty loons, who
suffered themselves to be killed before Tochtepec. Lerma has the love of
the dog Xicotencal, who loves nobody else. He can follow the young
senor, with some twenty thousand or so of his bare-legs; and they can
take the town among them."
"A good thought," said Cortes, "a good thought: for this is a command
which, nobody coveting, there will be none to envy. What sayst thou,
senor Lerma? wilt thou adventure upon a deed thought to be both
dangerous and desperate? Choose for thyself: I will compel thee to
nothing. I tell thee the truth.--No captain seeks after this employment,
and three have refused, except upon condition that I give them, besides
as many Indians as they can raise, three hundred picked Spaniards. Thou
canst not look for more than twenty, with some five or six horsemen."
The eyes of the exile sparkled.
"Your excellency honours me."
"Never think so; deceive not thyself," said Cortes, with apparent
frankness. "The enterprise is dangerous, nay, as I have said, desperate;
and by my conscience, it will be said of it, as of the South Sea
journey, that it is devised for thy ruin.--If I honour thee, I must
suffer thereby: no evil can happen to thee, that will not be maliciously
imputed to wicked and premeditated design. By my conscience, there are
many who think me but a hangman in disguise!"
"I hope your excellency will not think of these things," said Juan,
fervently. "I will do battle with any one who presumes--"
"Peace: have I not told thee already that the duel is forbidden under
heavy penalties? I swear to thee, they shall be enforced, in all cases
of disobedience, were it upon my own brother.--I tell thee again, I can
advance thee to no service which will not make me the mark of slander.
There are fools about us, who, I know not why, have tortured anger into
hatred, and will now interpret good-will into malignant treachery. But I
care not for this: the tall tree catches the bolts that pass by the
underwood,--the rock that rises above the sea, is lashed by breakers,
while the grovellers at the bottom lie in tranquillity. It is thus with
the condition of man;--peace abides with the lowly, envy shoots arrows
at the high. Think of this, think of this, Juan Lerma, when thou hearest
me maligned."
"I shall not need," said Juan. "The more dangerous the duty, the more
must I thank your excellency for your confidence. I beseech, therefore,
that I may be permitted to undertake this present enterprise."
"Wilt thou march them on foot, and with no better arms than thy Indian
battle-axe and buckler?" demanded the general, gravely.
"I have heard," said Juan, with hesitation, "that your excellency has in
charge certain horses and arms, which of right are mine, as being the
gifts of a bountiful friend."
"It is even so," said Cortes, "and the restoration of them, which thou
canst justly claim, will cause some heart-burnings. I must crave your
pardon for having presumed to bestow them away, as though they had been
mine own property."
"Under your favour," said Juan, "considering that they were the gifts of
your excellency's ever honoured and beloved lady--"
"Ha!" cried Cortes, with a darkening visage, "what fiend possessed thee
with this impertinent conceit?"
"I beg your excellency's pardon for my presumption," said Juan, "which
was indeed caused no more by rumour than by a belief that there was no
other being in the world, who could thus far have befriended me."
"Why then," said Cortes, "if thou knowest not the donor, it is the more
remarkable; for nobody else does. Very strange! Two horses, the worst of
which is worth full nine hundred crowns, and Bobadil almost
priceless;--a suit of armour so well chosen to thy stature, that never a
man of us all but is as loose in the cuirass as a shrivelled walnut in
the shell,--all very positively sent to _thee_ from Santiago,--for thee,
senor, and for nobody else!"
"They are saint's gifts," said Alvarado, devoutly: "the young man has
suffered much, and has found favour with heaven."
"Senor," said Juan, mildly, "you are jesting with me. I will hope, by
and by, to discover this benevolent patron. What I have to say now, is
that my wants will be content with but one of the horses; the return of
which will cause your excellency no trouble,--the same being in the
hands of the senor Guzman, who has already signified his intention to
restore him."
"Ha! has he so, indeed? Why thy very enemies have become thy friends!"
"As for the armour, senor," continued the youth, without thinking fit to
notice the latter exclamation, "I will make no claim to it, if you have
bestowed it away. A simple morion and breastplate,--or indeed a good cap
and doublet of escaupil, if iron be scarce,--will content me, provided I
have but a good sword and steed."
"Thou shalt have both," said Cortes, "and the plate-mail also; which
being somewhat too gigantic for any cavalier, and too good for a common
soldier, I have preserved, thinking some day to bestow it upon the
Tlascalan Xicotencal.--Thou art not loath to undertake this business? I
will give thee a day to think of it."
"Not an hour, senor," said Juan, ardently. "Give me but time to exchange
these heathen weeds and sandals for good armour and a warhorse, and I
will depart instantly, with whatsoever force you may think fit to
entrust to me."
"Art thou really, then, so hot after danger?"
"God is my protection," said Juan; "I thank heaven, that this duty _is_
the most dangerous your excellency could charge me with: it is, for that
reason, the most honourable."
"Sayst thou so?" cried the Captain-General, quickly. "There is _one_
duty, at least, I could impose upon thee, which thou wouldst not be so
hasty to accept? No, faith; for the very name of it has caused the
boldest soldier in the army to turn pale.--Get thee to the armory; rest
and refresh thyself: to-morrow thou shalt to Tochtepec."
"Senor, for your love I will do what others will not: I have years of
benefaction to repay. I claim to be appointed to that task which is so
dreadful to others."
"By my conscience, no," said Don Hernan: "_this_ would be sending thee
to execution indeed. And yet I know none so well fitted as thyself: Thou
art fearless, cunning, discreet,--at least thou canst be so; and thou
art a master of the barbarous language, I think?"
"Your excellency once commended the success with which I laboured to
acquire it: my year's wanderings in the west have made it familiar to me
almost as the tongue of Castile."
"It is a good endowment," said Cortes. "What thinkest thou of an
embassage to Tenochtitlan?"
As he spoke, pronouncing each word with deliberate emphasis, he bent his
eyes searchingly on Juan, and a smile crept over his features, as he
perceived the young man lose colour and start.
"The man that would do me _that_ duty," he continued, gravely, "would
indeed deserve well, not only of myself, but of his majesty, the king of
Spain. But think not I mean to overtask thee,--or that I seriously
designed to try thee with this rack of probation.--There are bounds to
the courage of us all."
"Your excellency mistakes me," said Juan, dispelling all emotion with a
single effort, and speaking with a voice as firm as it was serious: "if
there be but one good can come of such an embassy--"
"There might be _many_," said the general, "not the least of which would
be the conquest of the city, and thereby of the whole land, without the
loss of Christian lives. Could I but find speech with the prince
Guatimozin, I have that which will move him to peaceful submission. But
this is impossible."
"Again your excellency is deceived," said Juan, with the composure of
one who has taken his resolution. "I will do your bidding,--I will carry
your message to Mexico."
"Pho! I did but jest with thee. Three Indian envoys have I sent already:
the infidel slew them all."
"And cannot your excellency answer why? Your envoys were Indians,--your
excellency's allies, but his subjects, who, in the act of alliance, had
committed the crimes of treason and rebellion; for which he punished
them with death, as seemed to him right and just. A Spanish ambassador
would be received with greater respect, and perhaps dismissed without
injury. I will not, with a boastful vanity, proclaim that I fear
nothing; but such fears as I have, are not enough to deter me; and again
I say, I will do your bidding."
"My bidding!" cried Cortes; "I bid thee not; heaven forfend I should bid
thee any such thing. But if thou really thinkest the danger is not
great,--if thou art so persuaded--" He paused; his eyes sparkled; he
strode to and fro in disorder. Then suddenly halting, he exclaimed, with
a faint laugh, "No, by my conscience! no, by heaven! no, by St. James of
Compostella! thou art the bravest fool of all, but thou shalt not die
the death of a dog! I will not catch thee with tiger-traps!"
To these extraordinary expressions, Juan answered with emotion, but
still with unvarying resolution,
"I wait your excellency's orders. I fear not death; I am alone in the
world;--father or mother, brother or sister, kinsman or friend, there is
not one to lament me, should I come to disaster. If I live, I will, as
your excellency has said, have saved the effusion of Christian blood; if
I die, heaven will remember the motive, and none will miss me.--I will
go to Tenochtitlan."
"Thou art a fool," said Alvarado. "Senor Captain-General, this embassy
may not be; I protest against it. The world will cry shame on us."
"I do oppose the same," said Sandoval, "as being the wilful throwing
away of a Christian life."
The other cavaliers present were about to add their voices against the
measure, when Cortes cut them short by saying, sternly,
"Are ye all mad, senores? Think ye, this thing was said seriously? I did
but try the young man's mettle, and I do think he hath somewhat less of
gaingiving about him, as well as much more folly, than any one here
present. I must get me an ambassador; but, Juan Lerma, thou art not the
man."
"To my thought," said Sandoval, "this old Indian, Ocelotzin, will be a
much safer emissary."
Apparently the Ottomi, who had listened throughout the whole conference
with great attention, and who understood just enough of it to know the
course that affairs were taking, did not at all relish the suggestion of
Sandoval. He started, flung the gray curtain of hair from his visage,
and began to pour forth a torrent of such objurgations and remonstrances
as he could find Spanish to express:
"I am not Ocelotzin, the Tiger," he exclaimed; "very weak and old I
am,--no claw, no tooth, no roar."--And here the barbarian, by way of
confirming his speech, set up a yell, so wild, shrill, and hideous, that
the cavaliers started back, catching at their swords in alarm, and two
or three soldiers from the ante-room rushed in, as if apprehending some
act of treason. But the dog Befo, who had hitherto maintained his post
at the feet of Lerma, now rubbing against his knees, now rearing against
his breast, and sometimes, when pushed down and too long neglected,
expressing his impatience or affection, by extending his vast jaws, as
if to swallow the hand that repelled him,--the dog Befo heard the cry of
the savage with such indignation as he would have bestowed upon the howl
of a rival. He replied with a lion-like growl, and stalking up to the
Ottomi, he stood watching him, ever and anon writhing his lips so as to
disclose his huge fangs, and seemed waiting the signal to attack,
greatly to the terror of the orator.
A wave of the general's hand dismissed the intruding soldiers from the
apartment; and at the voice of Lerma, the dog returned to him.
"I am Techeechee," said the orator, resuming his discourse, but with
tones greatly subdued; "I am Techeechee, the Silent Dog,--the Silent Dog
I am; Techeechee, the Silent Dog,--the Silent Dog I am.--Techeechee."--
All this time, he kept his eyes fixed upon Befo as if dreading an
assault; and, in fact, his solicitude had somewhat overpowered his mind,
so that he continued for some moments to reiterate the above phrases,
without any seeming consciousness of their absurdity. At last, he fell
into his vernacular language, and this happily releasing him from his
trammels, he poured forth, with amazing volubility, a string of sounds,
so harsh, guttural, inarticulate, and unearthly, that they seemed rather
the basso chatterings of an ape than the meaning accents of a human
being.
"What says the knave?" cried Cortes.
"He says," replied Juan, "that he is the little dumb dog of the hills,
and will harm nobody; that Montezuma was a big dog, like Befo, (wherein
he lies,) and that Guatimozin the prince is bigger still, and will eat
him,--which is to be understood figuratively. He says, he is the Little
Dog, and therefore not fit to be an ambassador; but--Ha! what sayst
thou, Techeechee?"--
The young man spoke to the Ottomi in his own tongue, and receiving an
answer, turned immediately to Cortes, saying,
"It becomes me to inform your excellency of his words; for savage though
he be, this old man I have ever found to be marvellously shrewd, as well
as faithful. It is his opinion, that the prince Guatimozin would not
injure _me_, if I went on the embassy; wherefore, I beg your excellency
to reconsider your resolution. He says, too, he will go with me."
"Your destiny, senor, is to the rebellious and bloody town Tochtepec,"
replied the general, quickly and decidedly.
"He adds," continued Juan, "that he is Techeechee and no ambassador; but
that he is cousin to Quimichin, the Ground Rat, and that he will be your
spy,--for _quimichin_ is the word by which they express a spy throughout
the whole land."
"I am Techeechee; I will be Quimichin," said the Indian, as if to
confirm the words of Juan, and twisting his withered features into a
smile, that was meant to express both cunning and affection.
"Dost thou think him faithful?" said Cortes. "I will find service for
him. But go, amigo! I have kept thee till thou art as faint and weary as
myself. Get thee to Quinones, and the armory. Make thy preparations and
take thy rest. I will see thee on the morrow--perhaps to-night, and
acquaint thee with thy force and instructions. God be with you--Nay,
heed not the dog--Adieu, senores--He has much of your own fidelity, roam
he never so much. Take him with you."
When the last of the cavaliers had departed from the chamber, the
Captain-General, stepped upon the platform, and throwing himself into
the chair of state, sat or reclined thereon, with the air of one worn
out by exertion of mind and body, and on the eve of sinking into a
swoon.