As the bushes parted, a tall figure sprang into the path, and running
round the pool, would instantly have been at the side of the two
Castilians, who were yet unobserved, had it not been that Befo, his
ferocity greatly whetted by his former encounter, darted forward as at
first, with a sudden roar, with equal violence, and with similar
success. As the stranger fell to the earth under an attack so impetuous
and unexpected, he uttered an exclamation in which Juan recognized the
language of Mexico. He ran forwards, guided by the growls of the beast
and the stifled cries of the man, (for the spot on which the two
contended was covered with impenetrable gloom,) and, by accident, caught
the stranger's arm, and felt that it wielded a heavy macana, now
uplifted against the animal. As his other hand was stretched forward,
again to remove the victorious Befo from a fallen antagonist, it fell
upon the naked breast of a barbarian.--In a moment more, he had torn the
dog away, and dragged the savage into the moonshine, where he had left
Camarga standing, but where Camarga stood no longer. He had fled away in
the confusion, unobserved, and now almost forgotten.
Here Juan released the captive from his powerful grasp, for his rapier
was in his hand, and the macana of the Mexican he had already cast into
the pool; and thus standing, confiding as much in the aid of Befo as in
the menacing attitude of his weapon, he began to address his prisoner.
"What art thou?" he demanded, in the tongue which, as he had boasted,
was almost as familiar to him as the language of Spain: "What art thou?
and what dost thou here?"
Instead of answering, the Mexican, gazing over his conqueror's shoulder,
seemed to survey, with looks of admiration and alarm, some spectacle
behind his back. Juan cast his eye in the direction thus indicated, and
beheld the visage of Magdalena, recalled by the tumult, gleaming hard
by. In an instant more, she had vanished, and he turned again to the
captive, who, when the vision, to him so inexplicable, had faded away,
now directed his attention to an object equally surprising and much more
formidable in his estimation than even the redoubtable Juan. As he
rolled his eyes, in mingled wonder, trepidation, and anger, on the huge
Befo, who now stood regarding him, writhing his lips and showing his
tusks, in the manner with which he was wont so expressively to intimate
his readiness to obey any signal of attack, Juan had full leisure to
observe that the Indian was a young man not above twenty-three or
twenty-four years old, of good and manly stature, and limbs nobly
proportioned. His only garments were a tunic and mantle of some
dark-coloured stuff, but little ornamented, the former extending from
the waist to the knees, the latter, knotted, as usual, about his throat,
but so disordered and torn by the teeth of the dog, as to leave the
upper part of his body nearly naked. His only defensive armour was a
little round buckler of the skin of the _danta_ or tapir, not exceeding
fourteen inches in diameter, strapped to his left arm. The loss of the
macana had left him without any offensive weapon. As he raised his head
at the second salutation of his capturer, he flung back the long masses
of black hair from his forehead, and displayed a visage, as well, at
least, as it could be seen in the moonlight, not unworthy his manly
person.
"Olin, the tongue of the Teuctli, is a prisoner."
As he pronounced these words, in his own language, signifying that he
was an orator of his high class, and that he confessed himself a
captive, he touched the earth with his hand and kissed it, in token of
submission. The tones of his voice caused Juan to start.
He dropped his sword-point, advanced nearer to him, and perused his
features with intense curiosity. His gaze was returned with a look of
equal surprise, which betrayed a touch of fear; for the Mexican at once
exclaimed, withdrawing a step backward,
"The Great Eagle fell among the archers of Matlatzinco!"
"The king is not wise--Guatimozin is in the hands of Cortes!" said Juan,
with deep earnestness.
"Olin is the orator--the king is wise," replied the Indian, hastily.
"It is in vain," said Juan. "Thou art Guatimozin! and a captive, too,
ere a blow has been struck, in the camp of thy foeman! Is this an end
for the king of Mexico?"
"Quauhtimozin can die: there are other kings for the free warriors of
Tenochtitlan," replied the young monarch, boldly and haughtily, avowing
his name,--which is here given in its original and genuine harshness,
that the reader may be made acquainted with it; though it is not
intended to substitute it for its more agreeable and familiar
corruption: "Guatimozin is a prisoner," he continued, with a firm voice
and lofty demeanour, "but the king of Mexico is free.--When did the
Great Eagle become the foe of Guatimozin?"
"I am not thy foe," replied Juan, "but thy friend; so far, at least, as
it becomes a Christian and Spaniard to be. I lament to see thee in this
place--I am not thy foe."
"Raise then thy weapon," said the prince, dropping his haughty manner
and ceremonious style, and speaking, as he laid his hand on Juan's arm,
with fierce emotion; "strike me through the neck, and cast my body into
the pool.--It is not fit that Guatimozin should wear the bonds of
Montezuma!"
It must not be supposed that this conversation took place in quiet.
During the whole time, on the contrary, the garden continued to resound
with the voices of men running from copse to copse, from alley to alley,
sometimes drawing nigh, and, at other moments, appearing to be removed
to the furthest limits of the grounds. At the moment when the Mexican
made his abrupt and insane appeal to the friendship of his capturer, a
party of Spaniards rushed by at so short a distance and with so much
clamour, that he had good reason to conceive himself almost already in
their hands. They passed by, however, and with them fled a portion of
Juan's embarrassment. As soon as he perceived they were beyond hearing,
he replied:
"This were to be thy foe indeed. But, oh, unwise and imprudent! what
tempted thee to this mad confidence?"
"The craft of Malintzin," replied the Mexican, making use of a name
which his people had long since attached to Cortes,--"the craft of
Malintzin, who ensnares his foe like the wild Ottomi, hidden among the
reeds;--he scatters the sweet berry on the lake, and steals upon the
feeding sheldrake; so steals Malintzin. He sends words of peace to the
foe afar; when the foe is asleep, Malintzin is a tiger!"
"And thou hast been deceived by these perfidious and unworthy arts?"
said Juan, the innuendoes of Villafana and the monitions of Magdalena,
recurring to his mind with painful force.
"Deceived and trapped!" replied the infidel, with fierce indignation;
"cajoled by lies, circumvented by treachery, seduced and betrayed!--Is
the Great Eagle like Malintzin?" As he spoke thus, sinking his voice,
which was indeed all the time cautiously subdued, he again laid his hand
on the young Christian's arm, and continued,
"Art thou such a man, and dost thou desire the blood of thy friend? What
shall be said to the little _Centzontli_, the mocking-bird? The little
Centzontli sang the song to Guatimozin, 'Let not the Great Eagle die in
the trap!' What sings she now? Does the Great Eagle listen to the little
Centzontli?"
"He does," replied Juan, on whom these metaphors, however mysterious
they may seem to the reader, produced a strong impression. "Thou art
_my_ prisoner, not Don Hernan's; and it rests with me to liberate or to
bind, not with him. Answer me, therefore, truly; for if thou hast been
trained by treachery into this present danger, coming with thoughts of
peace and composition, and not with an army, to surprise and slay, thou
shalt be made free, even though the act cost me my life."
"I come in peace: does the leader of an army walk bareheaded and naked?
My canoe lies hid among the reeds: my warriors are asleep on the island.
The Christian sent for a lord of the city, to give his hand to the angry
men of Tlascala. Guatimozin is not the king, but he brought them the
hand of the king.--It was the lie of Malintzin! I am betrayed!"
"If I suffer thee to depart," said Juan, anxiously, "canst thou make
good thy escape?"
"Is not Guatimozin a soldier?" replied the Mexican, with a gleaming eye.
"Give me a sword, and hold fast the Christian tiger."--
"Hark!--peace!" whispered Juan, drawing the prisoner suddenly among the
boughs: "we are beset. Hist, Befo, hist!"
With a degree of uneasiness, which approached almost to fear, when he
found that Befo, instead of following him into his concealment, remained
out upon the illuminated path, where he attracted notice, while
expressing fidelity, by setting up an audible growl, Juan heard a man
crash through the boughs on the further side of the pool, all the while
calling loudly and cheerily to his companions.
"Hither, knaves!" he cried; "the fox is in cover! Hither! quick,
hither!"
It was the voice of Guzman. He had caught the growl of the dog, and
responded with a shout of triumph, as he ran forward, closely followed
by three or four soldiers armed with spears;
"The bloodhound for ever! he has the fox in his mouth, I know by his
growling!--Hah, Befo, fool?" he continued, when he had reached the
animal; "art thou baying the moon then?--Pass on, pass on: no Indian
passes scotfree by Befo at midnight--Pass on, pass on!"
In a moment more, the nook was left to its solitude, and Juan
reappeared, with the prince. The sight and voice of Guzman had stirred
up his wrath, and he took his measures with a quicker and sterner
resolution.
"He protects and loves this man, who is a villain," he muttered through
his teeth. "There is nothing else left. Follow me prince: if we are
seen, thy fate is not more certain than mine--Follow me in silence."
The garden was still alive with men; they could be seen running about in
different directions, though the greatest numbers seemed to be collected
at the bottom, near to the lake side. It was not from this circumstance,
however, so much as from his ignorance of every portion of the grounds
except that by which he had approached the pool, that he bent his steps
towards the wing of the palace he had so lately left. He advanced
cautiously, taking advantage of every clump of trees, which could afford
concealment from any passing group; and once or twice, to allay
suspicion, adding his voice to those of the others, as if engaged in the
same duty; in which latter stratagem he was ably seconded by the
unconscious Befo, whose bark, excited by the shout of his master, was a
sufficient warrant to all within hearing, of the friendly character of
the party.
Thus assisted by the undesigned help of the dog, and by the imitative
caution of the Mexican, he succeeded in reaching the wing of the palace,
and the passage that led to his chamber, which was illumined by torches
of resinous wood. A door, leading to the open square that surrounded the
palace, opened opposite to that by which he entered from the garden. It
was his intention, if possible, to pass through this into the city, not
doubting that it would be easy to conceal the fugitive among the
thousand barbarians of his own colour and appearance, who yet thronged
the streets; after which, it would not perhaps be impracticable to find
some way to discharge him from the gates. But, unfortunately, as he
pressed towards it, he found the outer door beset by armed men,
thronging tumultuously in, as if to join their comrades in the garden.
There was nothing left him, then, but to seek his apartment, as hastily
as he could, and there conceal the Mexican until the heat of pursuit was
over. A motion of his hand apprized the fugitive of his change of
purpose, and Guatimozin, darting quickly forward, was already stealing
into the chamber, when a harsh voice suddenly bawled behind,
"Mutiny and miracles! here runs the rat with the viper! Treason,
treason!"
It was the hunchback Najara, whose quick eye detected the vanishing
hair, and who now ran forward in pursuit, followed by a confused throng
of soldiers, from among whom suddenly darted the cavalier Don Francisco
de Guzman.
Juan had reached the door. The cry of Najara assured him that he was
discovered; and conscious that his act of generosity was, or of right
ought to be, considered little better than sheer treason, the varied
passions of hope, grief, indignation and wrath, which had been, the
whole evening, chasing one another through his bosom, gave place at once
to the single feeling of despair. He felt that he was now lost.
At this very moment, while his brain was confused, and his heart dying
within him, a laugh sounded in his ear, and he heard, even above the
clamorous shouts of the soldiers, the voice of Guzman, exclaiming,
"What think'st thou _now_, senor? Art thou conquered?--Stand! I arrest
thee."
He turned; the cavalier was within reach of his arm, and the malignant
sneer was yet writhing over his visage. The words of scorn, the look of
exultation, were intolerable; the rapier was already naked in his hand,
and almost before he was himself aware of the act, it was aimed, with a
deadly lunge, at Don Francisco's throat.
"The deed has slain thee!" cried Guzman, leaping backwards, so as to
avoid a thrust too fiercely sudden to be parried, and then again rushing
forward, before he could be supported by the soldiers, who had also
recoiled at this show of resistance; "the act has slain thee; and so
take the fate thou art seeking!"
As he spoke, he advanced his weapon, which was before unsheathed,
against an adversary, whom the recollection of a thousand wrongs had
inflamed to frenzy, but who could scarcely be supposed to have retained,
during a year of servitude and suffering, the skill in arms, which once
made him an equal antagonist. Nevertheless, Guzman's pass was turned
aside, and returned with such interest, that, had the field been fair
and unincumbered, it is questionable how long he might have lived to
repeat it. As it was, the combat was cut short by the interposition of
the bloodhound, who, whining, at first, as if unwilling to attack a
cavalier so long and so well known as Don Francisco, and yet unable to
remain neuter, at last added his fierce yell to the clash of the
weapons, and decided the battle by springing against Guzman's breast. It
was perhaps fortunate for the cavalier that he did. He had a breastplate
on; and, for this reason, Juan aimed the few blows that were made, full
at his throat, with the fatal determination of one, who, hopeless of
life himself, had sworn a vow to his soul that his enemy should die. It
was but the third thrust he had made, (they had scarce occupied so many
seconds,) and it was directed with such irresistible skill and violence,
that the point of the weapon was already gliding through Guzman's beard
and razing his skin, when the weight of Befo's assault, for the third
time successful, hurled him from his feet, and thus saved his life, at
the expense of a severe gash made through his right cheek and ear.
The whole of this encounter, from the first attack to the fall of
Guzman, had not occupied the space of twenty seconds; and Don Francisco
was at the mercy of his rival, before even the rapid Najara could
advance a spear to protect him. It was not improbable that Juan would
have taken a deadly advantage of the mishap, for, as he had declared, in
a cooler moment, he hated Don Francisco, and his blood was now boiling.
If such, however, was his purpose, he was prevented putting it into
execution by another one of those opposing accidents, which seemed this
night, to pursue him with such unrelenting rigour.
Before he could advance a single step, a cavalier, bareheaded and
unarmed, save that he flourished a naked sword, sprang from the throng
of soldiers, followed by the senor Camarga, now without his masking
habit, the latter of whom cried with fierce emphasis, all the time,
"Kill him! cut him down! kill him!" until the soldiers caught up the
cry, and the whole passage echoed with their furious exclamations. These
served but the end of still further exasperating the choler of the young
man, thus beset as it seemed by the tyranny of numbers; and seeing the
bareheaded cavalier advancing against him, and already betwixt him and
his fallen rival, he turned upon him with fresh fury.
"Hah!" cried the new antagonist, when Juan's weapon clashed against his
own; "traitor! dost thou provoke thy fate?"
The words were not out of his lips, before Juan perceived that he had
raised his rapier against the bosom of Cortes. He beheld, in the
countenance which he had once loved, the scowl of an evil spirit, and
the fire flashing from the general's eyes, was no longer to be mistaken
for aught but the revelation of the deadliest hatred. He flung down his
sword, resisting no longer, and the next instant would have been run
through the body, but that Befo, fearing to attack, and yet unable to
resist the impulse of fidelity, sprang up, with a howl, and seized the
weapon with his teeth. Before Cortes could disengage it, and again turn
it upon the unfortunate youth, the Mexican fugitive glided from the
apartment, threw himself before the latter, and taking the point of the
weapon in his hand, placed it against his own naked breast. Then bowing
his head submissively, he stood in tranquillity, expecting his death.
At his sudden appearance, the soldiers set up a shout, and Cortes was
sufficiently diverted from his bloody purpose, to smooth his frowning
brow into an air of official sternness.
"Olin is the prisoner of the Teuctli," murmured the captive, in words
scarce understood by any one present, except Juan.
"Where bide mine Alguazils?" demanded the Captain-General, without
condescending to notice the Mexican any further than merely by removing
the rapier from his grasp. "Hah, Guzman! thou art hurt, art thou? By
heaven,"--But he checked the oath, when he observed that Guzman, already
on his feet, notwithstanding the frightful appearance that was given him
by the blood running down his cheek and neck, and drippling slowly from
his beard, replied to the exclamation with a smile of peculiar coolness:
"Get thee to a surgeon. Where bide the Alguazils? Is there no officer to
rid me of a traitor?"
"Senor General," said Juan, sullenly, "I am no traitor--"
He was interrupted by the appearance of two men, carrying batons, who
bustled from among the crowd, and laid hands upon him. The readiest and
the most officious was Villafana, who concealed a vast deal of agitation
under an air of extravagant zeal.
"Ha, Villafana! art thou found at last?" cried Don Hernan, with apparent
anger. "Hast thou no better care of thy ward on the water-side, but that
spies may come stealing into my garden?"
"May it please your excellency," said Villafana, recovering his wit, "I
was neither gambling nor asleep; but--'Slid, this is a pretty piece of
villany! Oho, senor mutineer, this is hanging-work?--Speak not a word,
as you love life."--This was spoken apart into Juan's ear.--"What is
your excellency's will, touching the prisoner?"
"Have him to prison, and see that he escape not."
These words were pronounced with a coolness and gravity that amazed all
who had witnessed the rage, which, but a moment before, had shaken the
frame of the Captain-General. "And you, ye idle fellows," he continued,
addressing the soldiers, "get you to your quarters, to your watch, or to
your beds. Begone.--Why loiter ye, Villafana? Conduct away the
prisoner."
Juan raised his eyes once more to the general, and seemed as if he would
have spoken; but, confused and bewildered by the extraordinary
termination of the drama of the day, chilled by frowns, oppressed by a
consciousness of having provoked his fate, his head sunk in a deep
dejection on his breast, and he suffered himself to be led silently
away.
A gleam of light, such as flares up at night from a decaying brand, just
lost in ashes, sprang up in the leader's eyes, as they followed the
steps of the unhappy youth, until, passing from that door, which he had
so vainly sought to gain with the Mexican, he vanished from sight. Its
lustre was hidden from all but the captive, who, maintaining throughout
the whole scene, the self-possession, characteristic of all the American
race, from the pygmies of the Frozen Sea to the giants of Patagonia, did
not lose the opportunity thus afforded, of diving into the thoughts of
the Invader.
As soon as Juan Lerma had departed, with the mass of the soldiers,
Cortes turned to the Mexican, and with a mild countenance, and a gentle
voice, which were designed to convey the proper interpretation of his
Castilian speech, said,
"Let my young friend, the Tlatoani, be at peace, and fear not; no harm
is designed him."
Then, making a signal to those who remained, to lead the captive after
him, he passed into the garden, and thence, by a private entrance, into
the hall of audience.