The fate of Mexico approached to its consummation. The great streets
leading from the causeways, were in the power of the Spaniards. It might
be said, indeed, that they had gained possession of the whole island,
except the extreme point of the neck of Tlatelolco; for though they did
not extend their ravages any great distance from the streets, into the
three quarters to the east and south, it was because these were occupied
only by women and children--the wounded, the sick, and the dying,--and
could be, at any moment, taken possession of. The warriors who yet
remained, were concentrated upon the little peninsula, around their
monarch, who, obstinate to the last, still resisted, even when
resistance was hopeless, refusing the offers of peace and friendship,
which Cortes, rendered magnanimous by success, and softened by
compassion, now daily sent him. His obstinacy was indeed surprising; for
the point was surrounded by brigantines and piraguas, prepared to
intercept his flight; and escape, unless by death, seemed evidently
impossible. The work of carnage therefore went on, though with mitigated
severity; for there were but few left to suffer. The market-place of
Tlatelolco was secured and occupied, and upon the day of St. Hippolytus,
(the 13th of August,) the Spaniards concluded the labours of the long
and bloody siege, by storming, with all their forces, the palace of
Guatimozin--the last stronghold of the Mexicans. The garden walls were
beaten down by the artillery, and soon after midday, the Spaniards
rushed, with tremendous vivas, upon the palace, to which fire had been
previously communicated by flaming arrows, shot into the windows by the
confederates.
The preparations for the assault, and long before it began, were
surveyed by the Captain-General from the terrace of the palace of
Axajacatl, the famous scene of his sufferings, when besieged therein by
the Mexicans, a year before. It was in the quarter of Tlatelolco, midway
between the great pyramid and the market-place, and commanded, from its
turrets, not only a view of the palace of Guatimozin, but of the whole
surrounding city and lake.
Deeply as his mind was engaged with the approaching climax of his mighty
enterprise,--for now he could almost count the minutes that intervened
betwixt his hopes and his success,--he was not without thoughts and
feelings of another character. The singular disappearance of Magdalena,
of which nothing more was known, or even conjectured, than was disclosed
in the midnight conversation of the hunchback and Bernal Diaz; the fate
of Camarga, over which events not yet narrated, had cast a peculiarly
exciting mystery; and the situation of Juan Lerma, upon whose character
and unhappy history certain events had shed a new light, as well as what
had now become a painful interest; all, by turns, occupied his mind, and
sometimes even withdrew it from the contemplation of the scene before
him. The few cavaliers in attendance, who enjoyed their immunity from
combat only because they were disabled by severe wounds, referred his
unusual gloom to the same cause; for he had not yet recovered from the
many injuries, the penalty of his rashness on the causeway.
"Thou knowest, Quinones," said one, in a whisper to the captain of his
body guard, (for the conspiracy of Villafana had been made, as is usual
in such catastrophes of ambition, an excuse for investing his dignity
with another engine of power;)--"Thou knowest, the renegade struck him
upon the head; and it is a marvel of providence he was not slain; for
Lerma strikes with an arm like the wing of a windmill. These blows on
the skull, though one may seem to recover from them, have a perilous
after-effect on the brain."
"Fy!" muttered Quinones, with a shake of the head; "there is a new word
about Lerma, especially since Garci Holguin brought in the princess.
Didst thou not hear that Alvarado, who heads the assault, called this
morning upon all soldiers who had seen Juan Lerma in the melee, and
asked them a thousand questions? I tell thee, there is a new thing in
the wind. I did myself last night over-hear Cortes charge Sandoval to
watch well for every piragua and canoe, that might leave Tlatelolco, and
see that no one taken be harmed.--But this we will see. Talking of
canoes, methought I beheld one some half hour since paddling from
Tezcuco?"
"Ay," said another; "it landed in the north-eastern quarter.--No more
complaints of Guzman now? He will never harry infidels more. Garci's
sailors say, he was taken alive!"
"Hist!" whispered Quinones, with a warning gesture. "This thing troubles
Cortes. It was his anger, and Guzman's desire to recover favour, which
drove him upon the mad feat, that brought him to the block of sacrifice.
It weighs upon the general's mind.--And besides, as it is now apparent
that Camarga is alive, there is deeper cause for remorse: It was perhaps
his wrongful belief in the charge of murder, rather than any other
cause, that made him proceed with such rigour against Guzman."
"But is this rumour true?" demanded the other.
"Ay, certain; and I wage ye my life, the very canoe we were looking
after, brings the dead-alive to Mexico. Methought I could trace the cut
of his sacerdotal maskings, even afar off. They say, after all, the man
is a true brother of St. Dominic, under some dispensation.--Ay, faith!
you may see now--Alive and shorn into the bargain! They are bringing him
up the stairway.--By Santiago, it makes the general's eye flash fire!"
The eye of Cortes, up to this moment peculiarly gloomy and troubled, did
indeed flash with lustre, as soon as it fell upon the figure of Camarga;
for it was he, who now made his appearance on the terrace, led forward
by Indians. He was greatly altered, and seemed indeed like the ghost of
his former self, so wan and emaciated was his countenance, and so broken
and feeble his step; he looked as if in almost the last stage of
atrophy. He was otherwise changed; the hair was shorn from his crown, on
which was a ghastly scar, left by the macana of the Lord of Death; his
feet were bare; and from the cord that girded on his friar's frock, was
suspended a knotted scourge, crusted over with blood. His whole
appearance was that of some suicidal ascetic, who mourns with the
severest maceration of the body, a sin not to be expiated by mere
penitence of spirit.
"Heaven be thanked for thy resurrection!" cried Cortes, grasping him by
the hand, and leading him to the seat he had himself occupied. "There is
a wolf in my bosom, and now I know that thou canst remove it!"
"Have I come too late?" cried Camarga, eagerly, though with a voice no
longer sonorous. "_Agnus Dei, dona nobis pacem!_ The victim of our
madness, driven among the infidels,--the poor wretch whom misery cast
into the same hands--What of them, senor? what of them?"
"Nothing," replied Cortes, "unless thou canst speak it: Nothing, at
least, except that both are still in captivity. Yet know, if it will
relieve thee, that what I could do by embassies and goodly offers, that
I have done to recover them; and I have given such orders, that, if they
be not murdered by the Indians, we may see them living this day."
"God be thanked!" cried Camarga, dropping on his knees, and praying with
such fervour, though in inaudible accents, as to excite no little
curiosity among the attendant cavaliers, whom Cortes had already waved
away. He turned upon them again, and sternly bade them descend from the
terrace, which they did, followed by the Indians.
As soon as they were alone, Cortes, scarce pausing until Camarga had
ceased his devotions, exclaimed,
"Speak, and delay not, either to mourn or to pray: Thou canst do these
things hereafter. Enough evil has already come of thy silence. Speak me
in a word--What art thou? and what is thy interest in these wretches?
What is thine? and what--yes, what is _mine_?"
The last word was uttered with vehement emphasis, that seemed to recall
Camarga to his self-possession. He rolled his eyes upon Cortes with a
ghastly smile, and replied,
"Thou shalt know; for thou hast a sin to answer as well as I; and answer
it thou must, both to God and thy conscience. Moderate thy impatience:
what I have to say, cannot be spoken in a word, but yet it shall be
spoken briefly. In thy boyish days, thou hast heard of the Counts of
Castillejo--"
The Captain-General bent upon the speaker a look that seemed designed to
slay, it was so frowningly fixed and penetrating. He then smote his
hands together upon his breast, as if to beat down some dreadful
thought, and immediately exclaimed,
"What thou hast to say, speak in God's name, and without further
preface. Were I but a dog of the house of Cortes, instead of its son and
sole representative, the name of a Castillejo of Merida would be hateful
to my ear. Ay, by heaven! be thou layman or monk, my friend or the
friend of my enemy, yet know that my rage burns with undiminished fire,
though the proud scutcheons of the Castillejos have been turned into
funeral hatchments, and the mosses of twenty years have gathered on
their graves.--But it is enough. The first word of thy story harmonizes
with mine own conceit. A strange accident opened my eyes upon a
remembrance of dishonour; which let us rake up no further.--I have heard
enough. Keep thine own secret, too," he continued, with a gleaming eye;
"for I would not take the life of one, upon whom heaven has itself set
the seal of vengeance."
"Yet must thou listen, and I speak," said Camarga, disregarding the
menacing words and glance; "for there is a story to be told, of which
thou and thy kindred have not dreamed--nay, nor have others, except
one--except one! My secret will not throw thee into the frenzy thou
fearest; he of whom you think, is beyond the reach of human vengeance.
Listen to me, Hernan Cortes, and forbear your rage, until I have
done.--Of the Count Sebastian's three brothers; the next in age, Julian,
was a slave in Barbary, yet supposed to be dead; the youngest Gregorio,
was a monk of St. Dominic; and the third, Juan, was a wild and unhappy
profligate."
"Ay, by heaven," said Cortes, with angry emotion; "may he remember his
deeds in torment--Amen! Had not Gregorio been an inquisitor as well as a
monk, I should have seen him burn at a stake, as was his due."
"Reserve your curses for the true criminal," said Camarga, drawing the
cowl over his visage, as if no longer able to endure the fierce looks of
Don Hernan: "Among others who had inflamed his wild and fiery
affections, was one whom heaven had seemingly placed beyond his
reach,--one whose name I need not pronounce to Hernan Cortes."
"I will tell thee who she was," said the general, laying his hand upon
Camarga's shoulder, and speaking with a passionate energy;--"the
daughter of a family, ancient and noble as his own, though without its
wealth,--a novice about to take the vows, (for to this had the poverty
of her house and her own religious fervour destined her;) and thus
uplifted both by rank and profession above the aims of a seducer. But
what thought the young cub of Castillejo of these impediments, when he
feared not God, and saw no one left to punish his villany, save an
impoverished old man and a rambling schoolboy? Dwell not on this--Speak
not her name neither: let it be forgotten. May her soul rest in peace!
for her own act of distraction avenged the dishonour of her fall."
He paused in strong emotion, and Camarga, drawing the mantle closer
round his head, continued:
"Know, (and I speak thee a truth never before divulged to mortal man,)
that the sin of this act,--the abduction of a devotee, whose novitiate
was already accomplished,--belongs not to Juan, the debauchee, but to
Gregorio, the Dominican."
"These are the words of a madman," said Cortes, sternly; but he was
interrupted by Camarga hastily exclaiming,
"Misunderstand me not. The lover and the convent-robber was indeed Juan;
but it was Gregorio who provoked him to the outrage, and gave him the
means of success. The sacrilege had not been otherwise attempted, and
the fickle-minded Juan would have soon forgotten the object of a passion
both criminal and dangerous."
"If you speak the truth," said Cortes, "you have exposed an atrocity, of
which, as you said, truly no man ever dreamed. On what improbable ground
do you make Gregorio a villain so monstrous?"
"On that of _knowledge_," replied Camarga, with a voice firmer than he
had yet displayed. "Dost thou think ambition lies not as often under a
cowl as a corslet? or that guilt can only be meditated by a soldier?
When the young monk Gregorio beheld the two sons of his brother, the
Count Sebastian, taken up dead from the river, into which an evil
accident had plunged them, and knew that the Count was dying--surely
dying--of a broken heart, the fiend of darkness put a thought into his
brain, which had never before dishonoured it. Yet it slumbered again,
until his evil fate showed him his brother Juan, meditating a crime,
which, if attempted, must bring him under the ban of the church, and
into the dungeons of the Inquisition. Then he said, in his heart, 'If
Sebastian die of grief, childless, and if Juan destroy himself by an act
of impiety, where shall men look for the Count of Castillejo, except in
the cell of Gregorio?' It was this thought of darkness that brought the
thunderbolt upon his house, and upon thine."
"Ay! thou sayst it now," said Cortes with a smothered voice. "But this
monk, this devil, this Gregorio! Let me know more of the wretch, whose
flagitious ambition, not satisfied with destroying his father's house
and his brother's soul, must end by bringing to a dishonourable grave a
daughter--I speak it _now_--a daughter of Martin Cortes of Medellin!"
"It is spoken in a word; but let the iniquitous details be forgotten.
The power of Gregorio, unknown even to Juan, (for the connivance was
concealed and unsuspected,) opened the doors of the convent, and the
lovers fled, were united in marriage, and then parted for ever."
"United? married? Now by heavens, thou mockest me! Even this had been
some mitigation of our shame. But it is not true. Why dost thou say it?"
"Thou wert deceived--all were deceived," said Camarga; "nay, even the
scheming Gregorio was deceived; for before he had dreamed that such a
fatal blow could be given to his ambition, the knot was tied, and the
children of Juan became the heirs of Sebastian. Behold how treachery
overshoots its mark! Gregorio opened a path, that the lovers might meet,
not that they might escape. This was reserved until the time when the
vows should be taken; after which the crime of abduction and flight
could not be pardoned. They fled a day too early, and it was within the
power of Sebastian to obtain both a pardon and dispensation; for Juan
was now his heir, in the place of his children."
"Good heavens!" cried Cortes, "was this indeed possible? But no; thou
deceivest me. Had the offence been so venial, Juan Castillejo had not
perished among the vaults of the Inquisition."
"Canst thou compass thine own vindictive purposes, and attribute no
similar power to others?" cried Camarga, with a laugh, that sounded
hollow and unnatural under the mantle. "Did a venial offence, or a
malignant and perfidious stratagem, drive Juan Lerma among the pagans of
Mexico?--Listen:--Juan Castillejo was dragged from his hiding-place, and
that perhaps the earlier, that Gregorio knew of their marriage. The
crime of carrying off a novice was not indeed inexpiable, but it
demanded a deep cell in the office of the Brotherhood; and such Juan
obtained. Now, Cortes, ask not for reasons to explain the acts of
Gregorio. The dying Sebastian exerted his powers to save his brother,
and would have succeeded, had not Gregorio, visiting the dungeons, in
virtue of his office, subtly attacked the prisoner's mind with the fear
of torture and final condemnation; until, in a fit of distraction, he
laid violent hands upon himself, and so ended a tragedy, for which
Gregorio designed another catastrophe. Ay, believe me! Think not that
even Gregorio planned out a climax so cruel. He desired only to work
upon Juan's terrors, in order to banish him from the land for ever; for
it was his purpose to provide him with the means of escape, when this
was accomplished. He foresaw not the consequences of the desperation he
had produced. Upon the morrow, Sebastian came with an indulgence--almost
a pardon. The shock of the spectacle of Juan's dead body, broke away the
last feeble cords that bound him to life; and Gregorio, absolved from
his vows by the papal dispensation, easily obtained, was now the Count
of Castillejo."
"And never sat in the castle-hall a fiend more truculent and diabolic!"
cried Cortes, with terrific emphasis. "Hark thee, man, demon, or
whatsoever thou art--I did think thee, at first, the very wretched Juan
of whom thou hast spoken, escaped by some miracle, and finding the
fiercest retribution for his villany, in the misery of his children. I
remembered thy words at Tezcuco, and was thus deluded. But I know thee
at last, and words cannot express how much I abhor thee."
"We are alike worthy of detestation," said Camarga, rising and flinging
back his cowl, "for we are alike villains,--with but this difference
between us, that I have preceded thee in the path of remorse, and must
perhaps tread it more bitterly, because in all things, self-deluded and
baffled. I am what thou thinkest,--the wretched Gregorio--and yet less
wretched than when I first discovered the twin children of my brother in
thy house at Tezcuco.--Hearken yet a moment, and I have done. All
supposed that the unhappy Olivia had cast herself into the river, and so
perished. It was not so. Pity, remorse, or some other feeling--perhaps,
policy--induced me to preserve her from her distraction. She lived in
concealment, until she had given birth to twin children--these very
wretches whom we have persecuted. Let me speak their fate in a word. The
boy I sent by a creature whose name he bears, to Colon's settlement in
Espanola; the girl I devoted from her infancy to the altar; and in both
cases, dreamed that I had provided for their welfare, as well as against
the possibility of discovery. When I had thus arranged everything for my
own security, heaven sent me the first sting of retribution in the
person of my brother Julian, returned in safety from the dungeons of
Fez, and, in right of seniority, the heir of the honours I had so vainly
usurped. It was a fitting reward, but it was not all. Dishonour, other
crimes, and awakened suspicions, followed my downfall; and I became an
exile and outcast. What life I have lived, it needs not I should speak.
A strange accident acquainted me with the stranger truth, that Magdalena
had followed her unknown brother to the islands. I had amassed wealth;
and an impulse, combining both pity and foreboding terror, drove me to
pursue them. It was easy to trace out their respective fates. The wreck
of the ship which carried Magdalena, with the supposed loss of all on
board, satisfied me that she was with her mother, in heaven. An
unexpected event had invested Juan with new interest. This was the death
of Julian, without heirs. It was in my power to repair, at least, the
wrongs I had done him, by restoring him to his inheritance; the
knowledge and proofs of his legitimacy were in my hands, and I resolved
to employ them. This I could not do in mine own person, but I
discovered--and know, senor, it filled me with joy,--that _thou_ hadst
befriended him. I came then to Mexico, to seek the young man, and to
enable thee to do justice to the memory, and to the child of thy
sister."
Gregorio, for so we must now call him, paused a moment, while Cortes
strode to and fro, in great agitation. He then resumed:
"The first thing I heard was the supposed death of Juan,--his
expedition, and the cause of it--thine own bitter and unrelenting
hatred."
"It is true," said Cortes, with a vain effort at composed utterance. "I
confessed my folly to thee before. I have persecuted the son of my
sister almost to death, and for an imaginary crime. There were villains
about me--I will tell thee, by and by, my delusion."
"Senor," continued Gregorio, "I found in thy camp a villain, whose
subtle and malicious nature was in harmony with my own. This was
Villafana, whose representations of thy cruelty in the matter of Juan,
stirred up my evil passions; and until the day when Juan returned, I was
very eager to avenge his wrongs. Upon that day, I discovered that
Magdalena was living. Now," he exclaimed, with vehemence, "thou mayst
understand the cause of my seeming madness: now thou mayst know that the
vengeance of heaven was punishing my old sin with lashes of horror. Thou
knowest the evil slanders cast by the ribald soldiers upon thee, in
relation to Magdalena. That dreadful suspicion was soon at an end; but
there remained the other, the persuasion, supported by strong
circumstances and by the malign averments of Villafana,--the dreadful,
damning belief, that a horrible and unnatural sin, the direct
consequence of my own, had plunged the brother and sister into a
never-ending wretchedness. Ask not my feelings, when I made this
supposed discovery. They caused me to seek the life of the unhappy
brother, to attempt it with my own hands, and finally through thine; and
all in a distraction, that mingled a thirst of vengeance with the
precautions of pity. Thou knowest the rest: he was snatched out of our
hands; and from Magdalena I discovered the blessed--the blissful truth,
that heaven had not punished them for _my_ sin! A course of
extraordinary calamities, while it covered them with misery, yet kept
them asunder.--But why should I trifle thus? The girl also was taken
from me, and by the pagans, who left me on the lake-side weltering in
blood. When I recovered speech and sense, I besought Guzman to send for
you; nay, in my distracted impatience, being myself incapable of any
effort beyond mere speech, I confided to him the secret of their
birth--"
"Villain that he was, a double-dyed villain!" exclaimed Cortes, "this
then accounts for his attempt upon your life, of which I had something
more than mere suspicion to bring against him. I see it all now:
exposure of a long series of malignant deceptions, must have followed
the revealment, if it found the young Lerma--the young Castillejo, shall
I say?--yet living. Is it not true? did he do you violence?"
"Not with his own hands," replied Gregorio; "nor can I say he really
designed my death, not being able to communicate with the Indians, who
dragged me by night from Tezcuco, carried me to the mountains, and
finally took me back again, when Guzman was no longer the governor. But
I doubt not, his intentions were evil."
"He has suffered for his crimes," said Cortes.--He strode to and fro for
an instant, with hands clasped together, and a working visage. Then
returning, and casting around a glance of suspicion, he said,
"Hark thee, Gregorio--If we save these unhappy creatures from death,
thou shalt be forgiven,--ay, man, and honoured, too. I understand the
motives that made thee mine ally in wickedness: now understand
mine,--the persuasions of belief that converted me into a
persecutor--the base and devilish persecutor, for such I was--of my
sister's son--of my own flesh and blood. By heaven! I loved him dearly;
nature spoke in my heart,--the instinct of consanguinity was alive
within me; and even the lies of Guzman could not wholly destroy it.
Velasquez the governor," he went on, "has fought me with all weapons,
and with all in vain. Yet did he at last fall upon one, that was made to
wound me to the quick, though it could not make me falter in this
emprise of conquest. My lady, Gregorio, my lady!" he continued,
struggling in vain against the feelings of humiliation, with which he
confessed a weakness so unworthy;--"my lady Catalina is fair and merry,
and, God wot, somewhat over fond of the gingling galliards that ruffle
it at Santiago; and I,--by my conscience, I will be as honest as
thou,--I have had the devil of suspicion sometimes enter my mind; but, I
swear to thee, to mine own dishonour only. Upon this ground, Velasquez
has thrust at me with hints, innuendos, sarcasms, jests, rumours,
accusations, time without end. There has never a ship arrived, that it
has not brought some petard to be shot off on my bosom; and sometimes, I
think, I have been half mad with my dreams. Know, then, that one of
these damnable devices was made to play in the person of my adopted
son,--for such he was,--and my lady's favourite, Juan Lerma. My lady won
him out of prison, and she harboured him during the sickness that
followed. Out of this was constructed a story that tormented me. Yet it
was naught, until Guzman penetrated the weakness, and wrought it, by I
know not what means, into a fierce and fiendish jealousy. The young man
was melancholy, too--he had killed his friend Hilario: but (heaven save
me such madness again!) I deemed it the workings of his conscience, his
sense of ingratitude, operating upon a temper, which, I knew, was
naturally noble and virtuous. Thou canst not think how many little
events were turned, by Guzman's malignant address, into proof and
confirmation of my detestable suspicion. There came for him certain
horses and arms, sent, as I quickly believed, by my wife, now bold in
infidelity--"
"Alas!" said Gregorio; "I learned from Villafana, that these were the
gifts of Magdalena, who, poor wretch, would have sent him her life,
could that have been made an acceptable present."
"Thou makest my heart still lighter," said Cortes, "for this was the
only matter I could not myself explain away, so soon as certain passages
with Guzman had opened my eyes to his baseness. His oppressions forced
me to withdraw him from Tezcuco; and, quarrelling with him upon that
subject, as well as in regard to thine own fate, he let fall, in the
heat of contention, certain unguarded expressions, which convinced me
that he had made me his tool,--by heaven, Gregorio, his instrument!
Suspicion once awake, my judgment once informed how much he had to gain,
both of favour and revenge, by destroying my poor cornet, it needed but
mine own reflections, to show me how ruthlessly I had been cajoled. And
to crown all, a new light was shot into my soul, by the recovery, from
an Indian princess, now a captive in my hands, of this trinket; which
thou mayest know, if thou hast indeed ever looked upon the face of my
sister."
He drew from his bosom the cross and rosary which Juan had flung round
the neck of the Indian princess.
"I placed it," said Gregorio, "with mine own own hands upon the bosom of
the infant Magdalena--But, good heaven, how came it on the neck of a
savage, unless they have murdered her?'
"Fear not," said Cortes: "It was given to the princess by Juan Lerma--by
Juan of Castillejo; and was doubtless presented to him by Magdalena, in
the island. From this princess, I learned the first news of Magdalena,
who was kindly treated by the young king, in his palace, for Juan's
sake. Thou must know how this cross wrought upon my heart and brain; for
I did myself give it to my sister, when they took me, but a boy, to see
her in the convent. And as for this princess, Gregorio," continued
Cortes, with an air of pride, "know that she is a daughter of Montezuma,
the descendant of a thousand kings; and the Count of Castillejo will
carry with him to his castle, a bride more noble than ever entered it
before."
"These things are vanities," said Gregorio, gloomily. "Let my brother's
children be first plucked from the nest of infidels, if it be not too
late."
"Heaven will not _now_ forsake them, after protecting them through so
many and greater perils," said Cortes, kissing the little cross and
restoring it to his bosom. "The best men in the army, cavaliers and all,
have sworn they will fetch them from the palace, in which they are now
surrounded. And hark thee, Gregorio: The only daughter of the Count of
Castillejo is too noble a prize for a nunnery.--We will have another
dispensation."
The further disclosures of these two men, both villains, and both
penitents, after their ways, were arrested by the commencement of the
attack upon the palace; and Cortes calling some of his attendants to
support his companion's steps, they descended from the terrace.