Juan Lerma, or Castillejo--for such we must now call him--yet lay in
confinement. His cell was in a quarter of the palace remote from the
royal apartments; and without being altogether exposed to the
cannon-shots, with which the attack was begun, was yet so nigh the
garden-wall as to make its luckless inhabitant an auditor of all the
fearful yells and outcries, with which the besieged and assailants
contended for possession of the breaches. He was still bound, and some
dozen or more dark-browed pagans kept watch at his doors, one of which
led into a broad passage, and the other he knew not whither. They were
designed rather to protect him from the fury of the warriors, now
concentrated in the garden and palace, than to guard against escape,
which the wounds he had received in the defence of Guzman, had but ill
fitted him to attempt. All that Guatimozin could do to prolong an
existence, now almost insufferably wretched, he did; and at the very
moment of the assault, while taking measures to effect his own retreat
from an empire now utterly demolished, and a post no longer tenable, he
gave hasty instructions to the Ottomi, Techeechee, to secure the escape
of his friend. It will be presently seen in what manner fortune defeated
this plan, as well as all others now devised by the fallen monarch.
It was with a listlessness amounting almost to apathy, that Juan
listened to the first discharges of the cannon and the roar of hostile
voices. Such sounds had been awakened for several days in succession,
and each day they were nearer and louder. If they promised him
deliverance, they promised little else; for, having reflected upon the
eventful enterprise of the causeway, and digested at leisure and in
gloom, many of those details which had almost escaped his notice, in the
heat and hurry of contention, he saw but little reason to anticipate
from his countrymen, any other reception than such as might be
vouchsafed to a condemned criminal and avowed renegade. He remembered,
that he had been struck down by a Spaniard, while in the very act of
giving life to the Captain-General; and he had a vague suspicion, that
the blow was struck by the Barba-Roxa. If Gaspar (of whose death he was
entirely ignorant), had met him with such vindictive ferocity, what else
could be expected from men who had never looked upon him with
friendship? Yet fear for himself made the lightest weight in his load of
suffering: his thoughts dwelt upon the captive princess, and not less
often, though with perhaps less gnawing anxiety, upon his equally
captive sister.
Such were the reflections that darkened his mind during the first hours
of conflict, and made him almost indifferent to his fate. Yet,
notwithstanding his gloom, there arose a circumstance at last, which
gave such an appalling character to his confinement, as prevented his
remaining any longer indifferent to his situation. He became suddenly
aware that volleys of smoke were beginning to roll into the apartment,
and perceived, at the same time, that his guards, driven away by fear,
or by an uncontrollable desire to mingle in the conflict, as was more
probable, had fled from the doors, after satisfying themselves that he
was secured in such a manner as to prevent his flying in their absence.
He was indeed bound, or rather swathed, hand and foot, with robes of
cotton, so as to be incapable of rising from the couch on which he lay:
and it was his consciousness of the miserable helplessness of his
condition, left to perish, as it seemed, in a burning palace, without
the power of raising a finger in self-preservation, that stung him out
of his lethargy.
The smoke was now rolling into the room, in denser masses than before,
accompanied by the stifling odour of burning feathers, which entered so
largely into the decorations of the palace; and he began to apprehend
lest he should be suffocated outright, even before the flames had
extended to his prison. He called aloud for relief; but his voice was
unheeded in the din that shook the palace walls; he struggled to release
his limbs, or to rise to his feet, but in vain; and even the poor
expedient of rolling over the floor, availed him but little, so much
were his muscles cramped by the barbarous bonds. To crown the horror of
the scene, a gush of heated air shook the curtains of the door opposite
to that which communicated with the passage, and was almost instantly
followed by another, whirling smoke and flames.
But even in this extremity, hope was brought to his ears, in the sound
of a voice not heard for many days, but not yet forgotten. From among
the very flames that came flashing into the chamber, consuming the
door-curtains, and darting upon the little canopy that surmounted his
couch, he could distinguish the eager and clamorous howlings of Befo; as
if this faithful friend were seeking him in his imprisonment. He
answered with a shout, which was responded to not only by the joyful
bark of the dog, but by the wild cry of a woman; and in the next
instant, Magdalena, preceded by Befo, rushed through the flames into his
dungeon.
"I have come to save you, my brother!" she cried, with accents wildly
vehement and incoherent. "We will fly where never man shall see us more.
Kiss me, Juan; and then look upon me no more, for I have made a vow to
my soul.--Oh, my brother! my brother!" And she flung herself upon his
body, and strove, but in vain, to raise him from the floor.
Had the agitation of his mind permitted, Juan must have noticed, and
been shocked by, the alteration in her appearance. Her whole figure was
miserably wasted, and she grasped him with a strength feebler than a
child's. Her countenance was hollow, ghastly pale, and mottled only by
such touches of colour as indicate a spirit consuming equally with the
body. Add to this, that her garments were scorched, and even in parts
burned, by the flames through which she had made her way; and we may
understand how much she differed from the beautiful and majestic
creature, that had been deemed at Tezcuco, almost a being of another
world.
"Cut my bonds, Magdalena," said Juan, eagerly, "or I must die in thine
arms."
"Let it be so, Juan--We will die together," cried Magdalena, with a
voice of transport, as if the prospect of such a climax to an unhappy
fate filled her mind with actual delight. "Oh yes, Juan, so we will die,
so we will die!" And she flung her arms about his neck, with tremulous
fervour, smothering his voice of remonstrance and entreaty, until
recalled to her wits by a loud howl from Befo. This faithful animal,
limping yet with pain, but acting as if he understood the inability of
Magdalena to give his master relief, now lifted up his voice, whining
for further assistance; and in a few seconds the cry of another human
being was heard, approaching with answering shouts, through the passage.
But before they were yet heard, Magdalena sprang to her feet, and wrung
her hands wildly, staring upon Juan as if upon a basilisk.
"Sister! sister! will you see me perish?" cried Juan. "Slip me but these
knotted robes from my hands and feet, and I will save thy life. Befo!
what Befo! canst thou not rive them to tatters with thy fangs?"
"I will free you, Juan,--yes, I will free you," said Magdalena, flinging
herself upon her knees, and essaying with better zeal than wisdom to
loose the knotted folds; "Yes, Juan, I will free you, and then bid you
farewell--Yes, farewell, farewell--a lasting farewell."
But while she was muttering thus, and striving confusedly with the
knots, a better assistance arrived in the person of the old Ottomi, who
rushed in, yelling, "Fly! fly! The king waits for his brother," and cut
the garments asunder with his macana.
Juan rose to his feet; but so long had he endured this benumbing
bondage, that he was scarce able either to stand or move. There was no
time, however, for hesitation. The flames were already devouring his
couch, and darting over the cedar rafters of the ceiling. Befo whined
and ran to the door, as if inviting his master to follow; and Techeechee
did not cease to exhort him to hasten. Besides all this, there were now
heard the cries of men and clashing of arms, as if the battle were
raging even in the palace, and approaching the place of imprisonment.
"Magdalena, dear Magdalena--"
She flung herself into his arms, and embracing him, as if never to part
from him more, she yet uttered, with wild sobbings,
"Farewell, Juan, farewell; farewell, my brother--we will never see each
other more!"
"What meanest thou, my sister? Hold me by the arm--Tarry not, or we
shall perish."
"I cannot go, Juan--I will remain, Juan--I must die, Juan, I must die.
Weep for me, pray for me, remember me--Now go, now go! Go, Juan, go!"
It is impossible to express the mingled tenderness and vehemence with
which she uttered these words. Poignant grief darkened in her eyes, in
which glimmered the light of the most passionate love; and all the while
she shed floods of tears. Unable to comprehend an agitation so
extraordinary, and valedictions which he thought little short of
insanity, he grasped her by the hand, and endeavoured to draw her after
him. She resisted even with screams, until, utterly confounded, and
somewhat incensed by opposition so unreasonable and inopportune, he
turned again to remonstrate, and perhaps rebuke. But the reproach was
banished from his lips, before they had given it utterance. She again
flung her arms around his neck, and muttered with tones that went to his
heart,
"I cannot go with you, Juan--Oh my brother! pardon me, my brother, and
do not curse me. Bid me farewell, Juan, bid me farewell for ever--I love
you Juan, I love you too much!--Now I can live no more, Juan, I can live
no more--Farewell! farewell! farewell!" And flinging from his arms, as
if from a serpent that had suddenly stung her to the heart, she uttered
another shriek, and fled through the burning door by which she had
entered.
Juan remained fixed to the spot, as if struck by a thunderbolt; and
before he could banish the words of the thrice-unhappy victim of passion
from his ears, there rushed into the chamber, with furious shouts, a
rabble of Spanish soldiers, blood-stained, and begrimed with smoke and
cinders, the leader of whom struck the Ottomi dead with a single thrust
of his spear, while the others rushed upon Juan, some crying out to
kill, and others to spare him.
"Hands off!" cried Najara, throwing himself betwixt them and Juan.
"Remember orders,--the general's orders!--The king, senor Juan? Where is
the king?"
"Unhand me, villains!" cried Juan, endeavouring to shake off the
soldiers who held him fast, while Befo attempted vainly to give him
assistance:--"Kill me, if you will, but save my sister, my poor
sister--Quick! for the love of heaven, quick!" he cried, observing some
dart towards the door through which she had vanished: "Cortes will
reward you--save her! save her!"
"Follow them, Bernal, man," cried Najara to the historian, who had just
plucked his spear from the body of Techeechee--"What dost thou with
slaying gray-headed Indians? Follow La Monjonaza,--five-hundred
crowns,--ay, by my troth, and call them five thousand--to him that
recovers her alive! Ah, senor Juan! your dog has more brains than
yourself. But for his howling, you must e'en have roasted, man. Come
along, come along--Be of good heart; there is no fear now of either axe
or rope."
With such words as these, he drew Juan from the chamber, and supporting
his tottering steps between himself and another, and bidding the rest of
the party to surround them, so as to guard against any outbursting of
rage from their excited companions, he bore him from the scene of
bloodshed and conflagration.