If it be indeed permitted to disembodied spirits to look back to the
world they have left, and to read the hearts they have, in life,
mistaken, then should that of Gaspar Olea have seen, that his unlucky
blow fell not upon the head of an apostate, and that it had not slain
his friend and companion of the wilderness. Even Gaspar's strength
failed to pierce entirely through a morion composed of tiger-skins and
thickly-padded escaupil; and though the violence of the blow forced Juan
to the earth, and left him for a time almost insensible, it had done him
no serious injury. It robbed him, to be sure, of the dearly coveted
opportunity of escape, which the lucky service he had done the
Captain-General would have rendered of still more inestimable value; but
it yet served the good purpose, since he did _not_ escape, of removing
from the minds of the Mexicans many fierce doubts and suspicions, with
which they beheld him rush into the melee.
He was dragged back upon the causeway, and soon found himself in the
arms of the king.
"My brother is brave and true," said the young monarch, tearing from his
own hair the symbols of military renown, and fastening them to Juan's.
"The people have seen his bravery, and now they know him well. Did he
not lay his hands upon Malintzin? and was not Malintzin his prisoner,
until the red lion with the white and bloody face, struck my brother
with his sword? Is this a good deed, men of Mexico?"
"The king's brother is valiant!" exclaimed many nobles, who surrounded
the monarch with a guard of honour, eyeing the outcast with reverence.
Their words stung Juan to the soul; for he abhorred his deception,
though still urged, by his desire of escaping, to carry it on.
"Why do we stand here idle?" he cried, with affected zeal: "Is not
Malintzin yet upon the causeway? My heart is very strong; I will look
him in the face again."
At this proof of courage and apparent devotion to their cause, the
infidels shouted with approbation. But the king took him by the arm, and
withdrawing him a little, said,
"My brother will go now to the palace.--What is this that Azcamatzin
says of my brother? He says that my brother pierced the Lord of Death
with a sword, and pulled Malintzin out of his hands! This foolish thing
of Azcamatzin has made many angry, and they say, 'Let us know; for
perhaps the Great Eagle is for Malintzin.' Therefore my brother shall
not go from the king, till Azcamatzin thinks better things; for many
hurts have made him mad."
"Think not of this," said Juan, eagerly, for every moment the shouts of
the Christians were at a greater distance, and he feared that every step
of their retreat was one more link taken from his chain of hope.
"My brother," said Guatimozin, interrupting him, "may yet fight the
battles of the king, and be the king's friend. It is said to me, by a
messenger, that the ships have broken the wall of my garden, and that
Spaniards are slaying the women."
"Ha!" cried Juan, his own agitation at this information, contrasting
strongly with the frigid placidity of the king.
"Why should the king think of his women--of his wife and his little
boy,--when he is taking the Spaniards, like birds in a net? Let my
brother think for the king, for the king thinks for his people. My
brother's arm is yet strong--he will fight for Zelahualla, and for her
sister, the queen."
A thousand contrary emotions tore the breast of Juan, yet his thoughts
were fixed upon the garden. He remembered what counsel he had given to
the maidens, to sally forth, at any moment, when a trumpet should be
heard among the trees; and he conceived the danger in which they would
be involved, among a troop of enraged and merciless soldiers. He needed
no second exhortation to run to their assistance; and following
Techeechee, who remained at his side, he made his way through the
multitudes that thronged all the great streets, with a rapidity that, at
any other period, would have even surprised himself. He passed the great
square of the pyramid, the Wall of Serpents, and the House of Skulls,
from which, had he been so minded, he might have looked, at the same
moment, upon the three battles raging upon the three several causeways,
(for it was here the dikes terminated;) he passed the house of
Axajacatl, in which the Spaniards, a year since, had endured those
assaults which terminated only in their expulsion from Tenochtitlan; and
he trod again upon the vast market square of Tlatelolco, the northern
side of which was bounded by the walls of Guatimozin's palace and
garden. Upon this square he beheld many infidels, shouting at once with
wrath and triumph, a party of whom bore in their arms a Christian
prisoner, bound hand and foot, over whom the others seemed to exult,
piercing the very heavens with their clamorous cries.
Heart-sick, for well he knew the fate in store for the captive, and
struck with foreboding fear, he rushed over the fosse that laved the
garden wall, and was now choked up by the falling of a portion of its
extent, washed and undermined by the heavy rains, and passed into the
pleasant wilderness within. It was a theatre of wild disorder and
affright: men were seen rushing to and fro in great numbers, and their
cries were re-echoed by the yells of a thousand beasts of prey, famished
with hunger, or alarmed by the tumult.
He perceived that the water-wall was rent at one of the chief
sally-ports, as if battered by cannon; and he had no doubt, if it were
not yet over, that some terrific combat had but lately taken place in
the garden.
He came too late to share in it, but as he ran down to the water-side,
he beheld four brigantines making their way with oars, for the
atmosphere was breathless, towards the dike of Tepejacac, which was
itself a scene of furious conflict. The vessels were surrounded by
countless canoes and piraguas, some of which seemed to be manned by
Tlascalans; for while the brigantines were seen contending with this
aquatic army, it was equally manifest that a battle was raging also
among the canoes themselves.
He gave but little heed to this spectacle, nor did he scarcely note that
among the many human corses which strewed the lower part of the garden,
there were several with the visages of Spaniards.
His attention was arrested by a yelping cry; and looking round, he
beheld the dog Befo lying upon the ground, with an iron sword-blade,
broken off near the hilt, sticking quite through his body. But this
painful sight was forgotten, when, having approached, he beheld three or
four barbarians raising from the earth what seemed the dead body of
Magdalena. There were indeed blood-drops upon her hollow and ghastly
cheeks; and when he rushed up among the Indians, they exclaimed,
"The Teuctlis killed her, the men of Malintzin with beards,--they killed
the bright-eyed lady, and they killed the daughter of Montezuma!" And
then they added their wild lamentations to the mourning cries of Juan.
Distracted himself, as indeed were all the infidels, he could learn
nothing but that the Teuctlis, or Spaniards, had suddenly burst into the
garden, and besides slaughtering all that opposed them, in their attempt
to reach the palace, had killed, or carried off, as seemed much more
probable, the princess Zelahualla.
The misery that took possession of his heart at these evil tidings, he
smothered within its secret recesses, or strove to forget it in the
contemplation of his sister--for so his heart acknowledged her. He bore
her to the palace, and gave her in charge to the maidens, who, whatever
was their fright, were not unmindful of the duties of humanity. He then,
in much of that sullen despair that had oppressed him in the prison of
Tezcuco, returned to the garden and to Befo, whom he had left in
suffering, and drawing the sword-blade from his body, he examined it
with stern curiosity, as if hoping to penetrate the mystery of the whole
unhappy transaction, from such records as it might furnish. His scrutiny
was vain: it was a blade without any name, by which he might be enabled
to guess at its owner. He snapped it under his foot, and muttered a
malediction upon the unknown foe:
"Cursed be he that did this deed," he cried; "for he slew the only
protector of a feeble and wretched woman."
He then carried Befo, almost with as much tenderness as he had bestowed
upon Magdalena, into the palace, and stanching his wounds as he could,
deposited him upon his own couch.