What Juan had said in relation to the cause of his confinement, was
true, although he was not aware of the whole extent of the truth. In
releasing him from impending death at Tezcuco, the young infidel did not
doubt, in the simplicity of his heart, that he was adding a powerful
engine of defence to his preparations, as well as requiting the
obligation, which, he believed, had been the principal cause of Juan's
downfall. He reckoned confidently upon Juan's desire for vengeance, the
absence of which feeling, after wrongs so stirring and manifold, his
nature did not allow him to anticipate; and he dwelt also, with the
security of pride, upon the incentive offered in the love of the
daughter of Montezuma. In this spirit of confidence, without much
regarding Juan's previous averments, he introduced him to his assembled
forces, upon the day of coronation, that all might know him, and respect
him thenceforth as one honoured with the highest of titles--the king's
brother. So far, all was well: the name of the Young Eagle was not
wholly unknown to the Mexican warriors; and the sight of his manly
figure, arrayed in a native cloak, his head crowned with a lofty
penacho, put on by the king's hand, and the glittering axe of obsidian
received from the same quarter, and grasped a moment with a military
air, made an impression in his favour, that could only be obliterated by
his own act of rejection. The spectacle was hailed with acclamations,
and
Far and wide, the thundering shout,
Rolling among reduplicating rocks,
Peal'd o'er the hills and up the mountain vales.[14]
[Footnote 14: Southey's Roderic.]
Unfortunately, Juan, unwilling that any act should be interpreted as
expressing his assent to take arms against his countrymen, immediately
threw down the macana, and would even have taken the plumes from his
head, had he not been arrested by Techeechee, and made sensible that
such a proceeding would be followed by the most fatal consequences. The
movement, however, had been observed by many of the nobles; and from
that moment, Juan saw that he was watched by jealous and hostile eyes.
His explicit and absolute refusal to take part in the conflicts, had
convinced the young king of his error; yet, though greatly exasperated,
he took such measures, from motives of honour or humanity, as protected
the obdurate Christian from the daily increasing anger of his people. He
confined him in the palace, and forbade even the ardent Zelahualla to go
near him. In this he was actuated by suspicions, constantly inflamed by
the Lord of Death, and not unnatural in themselves, that the young man
had abused his credulity in the case of Magdalena. The love of the
Indian maid, however, penetrated through guards and prison-doors; and
Juan, almost as impatient of confinement and suspense as Magdalena
herself, resolved to effect his escape, and by throwing himself upon the
mercy of the Captain-General, make one effort to liberate his unhappy
sister. The attempt was discovered and thwarted; and from that moment
his confinement had been very rigid.
Still, however, the young infidel was wont frequently to visit him,
after the combat of the day, in the hope of overcoming his scruples, or
of gathering from his accidental expressions some hints that might be
turned to advantage against the besiegers. On all such occasions, he
refused to satisfy the prisoner's questions concerning his sister and
the princess; giving him plainly to understand that nothing but the
assumption of the pagan battle-axe, or positive counsels in his straits,
which he did not attempt to conceal, could purchase a sight of either.
In all these things, if the infidel acted with more crafty selfishness
than generosity, he only proved that he belonged to his race. The whole
conduct of Juan was, according to _his_ scale of morals and honour, both
unfriendly and unaccountable. He designed, this very night, to visit the
prisoner, of which intention Juan was apprized; and hence his eagerness
to dismiss the maidens from the chamber, before the conclusion of the
attack upon the neighbouring dike, with the nature and objects of which
he was well acquainted.
Before the maidens had departed, it was evident that the firing and
other noises on the causeway were subsiding. Before they had been gone
the full space of an hour, a heavy step rang in the passage, and the
next moment the Indian monarch stood before the captive. He was
singularly and sumptuously armed. From head to foot, his body was
covered with a garment, perhaps of escaupil, fitting so tightly as to
display his limbs to advantage; and over all was a coat of mail,
consisting of copper spangles or scales, richly gilded, and stitched
upon a shirt of dressed leather. His head was defended by a morion of
the same metal, shaped not unlike to those of the Spaniards, and equally
strong; and its ability to resist a violent blow was increased by the
folds of a stout serpent, painted green, wreathing over its whole
surface. A shield of tapir-skin, studded with copper nails, hung from
his neck; and he bore a macana, which was stained with blood. He wore
none of the emblems of royalty, and his appearance was only that of some
highly distinguished noble. His eye was bright and fiery, his step firm
and proud, but his aspect was thin and haggard.
"Has my brother heard the shouts of men near him, and does he yet say,
'Let me sleep?'" were the words with which he saluted the captive.
"Prince," said Juan, eyeing him anxiously and interrogatively, though
speaking with positive emphasis, "as I told you before, so has it
happened. The cannon were ready on the dike, the falconets were charged
in the ships, and the men of Sandoval slept with swords and matches in
their hands, and with their eyes open. Guatimozin does not come back a
victor!"
"He comes back with a prisoner," said the prince, proudly; "and,
to-morrow, the lord with red hair (Sandoval) will count the dead and
weep, and Malintzin shall see the flames of sacrifice rising from the
pyramid."
"Alas!" exclaimed Juan, "in condemning captives to this horrible death,
against your will, for I know your heart is not cruel, you harden the
soul of Cortes against you; and he will remember each sacrifice, when
the day of surrender comes at last."
"Let it be harder than it is, what cares the Mexican who dies?" replied
the king. "Does my brother think that I am weary, or that Malintzin can
fight longer than I?"
"Think not to deceive me, prince--I know that already your altars and
palaces are within reach of the cannon-shot--nay, of the
musket-bullet--You are hemmed in, like a wild-cat on a tree--Your
enemies are all round you, and they look into your eyes. Are not the
water-suburbs already taken?"
"Why should I lie?" replied Guatimozin. "If you go to Tacuba, you will
see the banks of the island--the city of the water is not there. If you
look from Iztapalapan, the surges go rushing up towards the great
temple--the houses are under the lake--If you look from the door of my
dwelling, you will see the quarter of Tepejacac falling also into the
lake. When Malintzin calls aloud in the morning, the lord of the red
hair answers him, and Malintzin hears. Thus it is with Mexico; yet my
brother sleeps, while I die, saying to his soul, 'It is all very just,
for I sleep and see not.'"
"If I see not and help not, yet is my heart torn by your distresses,"
replied Juan, earnestly. "But why should I help? It would be a great sin
upon my soul, and could do you no good. Listen to my counsel,
Guatimozin: It is not yet too late. Cease to protract an unavailing
resistance; send to Cortes with offers of submission, and be assured of
reigning still, a king, though a vassal."
"Does Guatimozin fight to be a king?" said the infidel, with dignity.
"He struck the Spaniard before he thought of a crown. He thinks not of
palaces and fine garments, but says, 'Why should the people of Mexico be
made slaves?' The king fights for Mexico."
"He will fight best for Mexico with peace. The kings of Tezcuco and
Iztapalapan pay tribute to Mexico--are their people slaves? Thus shall
it be with Mexico: the king shall give gold, as the tributary of Spain,
and Mexicans shall remain in freedom."
"Will my brother prattle like Malintzin?" demanded the monarch, sternly.
"Where is the freedom of Zempoala, of Tlascala, of Cholula? The people
talk of it, while a Spaniard strikes them with a lash. Where is the
freedom of Tezcuco? The young king, who is a boy, sits on the throne;
but the Spaniard, whom my brother struck in the face with a sword, when
he chased Olin-pilli, is there with him, and he robs and abuses the
people, so that they have sent their tears to Malintzin. What was the
fate of Montezuma? He sat in the Spaniards' house in chains, and the
soldiers murdered his nobles, who danced in peace in the courtyard. What
was the fate of Montezuma? The Spaniard, who is lord of the king of
Tezcuco, would have done violence to the captive maiden--Does my brother
remember?"
"Ay!" replied Juan, with the gleam of passion that visited his eyes,
only when he spoke of Guzman: "I remember, and I hope yet to
avenge--Sinner that I am, I cannot think it a crime, to covet the blood
of this man!--But, prince, let me know--My captivity is very hard--Why
should I not be allowed to speak with the princess? Why should my sister
be hidden from me?"
The countenance of Guatimozin darkened.
"When my brother will fight for them, he shall be at liberty. My brother
thinks again of the canoe at the bottom of the garden?"
Juan coloured, and said,
"You keep me a prisoner--I strove to escape. The king mocks me, to call
me his brother."
"The warriors are very angry, yet the Great Eagle is alive. He cannot go
among them in safety, unless as their friend."
"And who," said Juan, "shall warrant me of safety, if I go even as a
friend?"
He deemed it now the period to commence acting upon his scheme of
escape, yet hesitated, stung with shame at the thought of the duplicity
to which he was descending.--"It is better to die on the dikes than to
pine in the dungeon."
Guatimozin's eye gleamed with a sudden fire:
"Does my brother jest with me?" he said. "If my brother think it wrong
to strike a Spaniard, he shall not be called upon to fight. He can teach
me the things it is needful to know; and be in no fear."
"When did Guatimozin see me afraid?" cried Juan, stifling as well as he
could the sense of humiliation and disgust, with which he began the
office of a deceiver. "To give you counsel how to resist or attack, will
make me as much a renegade as to draw sword at once. If I do become
apostate, it shall be boldly, and with the sword. Prince, I have thought
over this thing: my heart is grieved with your distress; and for my
sister, and for Zelahualla, I will do what my conscience condemns. Does
the king know what shall be my fate, if I am found fighting by the
Spaniards?"
"Twenty chosen warriors shall circle my brother round about, and he
shall keep aloof from the van of battle."
"If I fight, it shall be in the van," said Juan, his self-condemnation
giving a character of sullenness to his tones. "But what, if I
fall,--what shall become of my sister?"
"She shall be the sister of Guatimozin and of Zelahualla," said
Guatimozin, with energy, yet with doubt; for he could hardly believe
that Juan was speaking seriously.
"Let the king say _this_, and I will go out with him to battle:--If I
die, he will cause my sister and the princess to be delivered into the
hands of Cortes."
"The Spanish lady shall be sent to Malintzin; but the Centzontli shall
remain with her brother the king. It is better she should die with him
than dwell with the Spaniards. Why shouldst thou think it? Are there not
more Guzmans than one?"
Juan muttered painfully to himself,
"Perhaps it _is_ better. Heaven will protect her, for she has
acknowledged her Redeemer.--Will the king swear, then, if his brother
falls, that Magdalena shall be sent to the Spaniards?"
"He will swear," said Guatimozin, ardently. "It is better for the
Spanish lady; for she knows not our speech, and she pines away with
grief. And if the king prevails over his enemies, the king will remember
what Juan says of her."
"Now, then, let the king tell me the truth, and mislead me not. How much
longer can he maintain the city?"
"Till he is dead!--But he may soon die," he added, confidingly, for now
he doubted no longer that he had gained his purpose. "My brother shall
first teach me how to get food. The ships move about at night, and no
canoe can reach the shore. The king sits down to eat with the warriors,
and he eats no more--but the warriors cry all night for food."
"Good heaven!" said Juan, surveying the wasted cheeks of the monarch;
"are you already so straitened? your garners already exhausted?"
"Who can reckon for so many mouths?" cried Guatimozin.
"I dreamed not of this--Sure, _I_ have never been denied abundance!"
"My brother is a prisoner; and the women and children are feeble. Why
should _they_ want, when the warriors can endure hunger better?"
The communication of this painful intelligence nerved Juan more strongly
in his purpose. He perceived the necessity of acting without delay, if
he wished to protect the young infidel from the consequence of his own
despairing fury, and the maiden of his love, and his sister, from a fate
too dreadful to be imagined. His eagerness the more fully deluded the
young monarch, not prone to suspicion where he loved, and he was soon
made acquainted with the whole condition of the beleaguered city, and
the situation of the Spaniards. He was also instructed in the
particulars of a design of Guatimozin, to be practised upon the ensuing
day, the boldness of which, as well as its strong probabilities of
success, both astonished and dismayed him. He perceived that perhaps the
fate of the entire Spanish army depended upon the course he might
pursue, and his honour and feelings seemed all to call upon him for some
exertion to arrest the impending destruction.
When he had been made acquainted with all that Guatimozin thought fit to
divulge, and had again and again repeated his resolution to take arms
and accompany the Mexicans against his countrymen, the king embraced him
with great warmth, promising to provide him with a good Spanish sword
and helmet from among the spoils; but recommending that, in all other
respects, he should assume the guise of a Mexican.
When these arrangements were completed, he turned to depart, and yet
seemed loath to go. Finally, he took Juan by the arm, and said,
"To-night the king will sleep by the side of his brother: we will wake
in the morning and go out together."
"Why will not the king speak kind things to the queen? It will rejoice
her to look upon the king."
"Has she not a little sick babe by her side? and are they not very
wretched?" said Guatimozin, exposing, without reserve, the miseries
preying upon his own bosom, and abandoning himself to a grief that
seemed to mock the greatness of his station. "When I look upon them," he
said, "I am no longer the king who thinks of Mexico and the people, but
a man with a base heart, who cries, 'Why am not I a prisoner and a
slave, that my little child may be saved, and his mother protected from
the famine that is coming?' The king should not think these things,--he
should not look upon his household, but his country."
"Go, notwithstanding," said Juan, touched still further by the
distresses of the infidel. "Comfort them with your presence, and let
their sufferings admonish you of the only way to end them. It is not too
late to submit."
"Is this the way my brother begins the duties of a Mexican?" said
Guatimozin. "The gods tell me to die, not yield. I fight for
Mexico,--not for the wife and child of Guatimozin."
With these words, and having banished all traces of weakness and
repining, he left Juan to slumber, or to weigh, in painful anticipation,
the risks and uncertainties of his projected enterprise.