Читать книгу The Jungle Trail - Johnston McCulley - Страница 4

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SEÑORITA INEZ MALPARTIDA'S eyes continually roamed the plaza, and after a time her face flushed prettily, and she began talking swiftly about nothing much at all to cover her confusion. For now she observed the broad shoulders of Bartolmeo Botello as they were thrust through the crowd. Once she met his eyes, and then there were men between them again, and she turned to hold conversation with those nearest, knowing well Botello would approach after a time and greet her as if it were merely a pleasant duty, trying hard to hide the love in his eyes and hoping for a word with her alone, yet knowing he would not get it.

And then she saw Señor Garabito approaching from the opposite direction, for he had been walking along the shore with his friend, and a dark look came into her face. She knew this Garabito had been in the good graces Of her father, and if he approached now, her father would see that she held conversation with him, while Bartolmeo Botello would be forced to wait in the distance. That would mean that Botello would have time for nothing more than the smallest greeting, for already the moment approached when her lather would return her to the house.

But, to her wonder, her father turned and witnessed the approach of Garabito also, and calling Inez's duenna to her duty, stepped a few paces away to meet the man.

"A greeting to you, Señor Malpartida," Garabito called. "I am coming to pay my respects—"

"A moment," said Malpartida, in a stern voice. "It has come to my ears that certain things have been said concerning your relations with a native maid."

"Primarily, señor, the words were spoken by an out-at-elbows follower of the ragged De Balboa who likes me not. In the second instance, cannot a caballero amuse himself now and then with a likely looking bronze wench?"

"This is not Seville, señor, where intrigues are smiled at and kept under cover. This is the wilderness where but a few of us reside, and where a man may make no ulterior move without it becoming known. You have done me the honor to seek permission to pay your court to my daughter, señor, and I have looked upon your suit with some favor. But now that your name has been upon every tongue—"

"On the tongue of a ragged scapegrace!" Garabito interrupted, hotly.

"Yet men have heard his words and have failed to hear your denial of their truth, señor."

"Would you have me utter falsehood?" asked Garabito.

"I would have you so conduct yourself that there would be no need of uttering falsehood."

"What are your wishes in the matter, Señor Malpartida?" Garabito asked, something of anger in his tone.

"This ragged scapegrace, as he is in your words, is a caballero of good birth, señor, even though he is not well clothed. And he has said—"

"Pardon, señor! Are you so blind that you do not see this Señor Botello looks with favor upon your fair daughter and so seeks to malign me?"

"He mentioned no lady's name, señor, as I regret you have done. He said, I understand, that you were to refrain from approaching respectable folk."

"And you subscribe to that sentiment, señor?"

"Only in so far as my own family is concerned, caballero. Allow me to suggest that you drop this Indian maid—give her gold and send her away—"

"Gold? She has more than I have!"

"Anything to get her away. Conduct yourself for a time as a pattern of virtue. When this matter has been forgotten it will be time for you to consider my daughter again."

"And, in the mean time, this ragged Señor Botello will pay his court, eh?"

"Señor!" Old 'Malpartida's voice trembled with anger as he spoke the word, and for an instant he touched the hilt of his rapier, which he wore as a matter of style rather than for service; for it had been some years since Señor Malpartida had drawn blade in offense or to repel attack.

"Your pardon!" Garabito was quick to say. "I am angered beyond proper speech, goaded into forgetting my breeding by this follower of De Balboa who has seen fit to attack me with his sneers. Did not our governor forbid, I'd run blade through the lying braggart!"

Several caballeros heard that statement, for Garabito had raised his voice. Rodrigo Ruiz heard it, and he half drew his blade from its scabbard to defend the reputation of his friend, but a comrade grasped him by the arm and whispered two things—that the governor's edict was still in force, and that Bartolmeo Botello desired to handle his own quarrels.

Moreover, Botello himself heard it, even as he stepped before Señorita Inez and bowed his best and wished her an excellent day: his face did not change color and his hand did not touch the hilt of his weapon; only by a quick narrowing of the eyes did he show that he had observed the words and the speaker.

So, when old Malpartida turned his back on Señor Garabito and faced his daughter again, it was a smiling and courteous Botello who spoke to him, bowed low, and stepped back. And Malpartida, his daughter clinging to his arm and wishing she dared look back, and with the duenna tripping along behind, walked across the plaza toward the governor's house, his head held high, like the grandee he was in reality.

Botello turned aside with Ruiz, not once looking in Garabito's direction, for there remained some ladies in the plaza, and it was not the proper time to settle differences or pick a quarrel. Near one end of the church wall they stood to watch men flinging the dice, Botello laughing as loud as any at the mishaps of the unlucky ones.

"Did you not hear?" Ruiz asked, under his breath.

"I heard, my friend," Botello answered.

"With what result?"

"We shall see that presently."

"It is a pretty pass, Bartolmeo. Here he has dared defy you, and you cannot call him to account for it without defying the governor," Ruiz said.

"Perchance he thought of that when he dared show himself in the plaza."

"Moreover, he is one of his excellency's closest friends. To quarrel with him may go hard with you."

"Yet there must be some justice, even in such a governor as this we have. This is the year fifteen hundred and fifteen, my friend, an enlightened age."

"I pick no quarrel with the age, Bartolmeo. But there be men living in it—"

"Who should cease to live—I agree with you!"

"You'd not dare—"

"The pretty caballero has gone too far, I vow. Lying braggart, eh? By the saints—"

"But, if you run him through—"

"It remains to be seen what may happen, good Rodrigo. Let us not concern ourselves with it until after all the ladies have left the plaza."

Rodrigo Ruiz glanced around, and then plucked quickly at his friend's tattered sleeve.

"The cowardly knave has taken advantage of that, also," he said. "First, he believes himself safe because of his excellency's edict, and now he knows you will start no quarrel while there are ladies near. So he swaggers across the plaza toward the governor's house, timing himself to arrive as the last of the ladies are leaving the plaza. He can say he defied you and suffered no harm, not even a word!"

"Hah!" Botello roared, and whirled in turn. Ruiz, he saw, had spoken truth. Garabito was swaggering across the plaza, affecting nonchalance, and he would reach the doors of the governor's house as the last of the señores and señoritas disappeared.

Now Botello sprang forward and walked with great strides to intercept his foe, and men ceased throwing the dice to watch, and from all quarters caballeros sauntered forward, anticipating a sensation and a break in the monotony of Antigua.

"A moment, Señor Garabito!" Botello called.

Garabito looked over his shoulder, slackened his stride, stopped with his hand on the arm of his friend, for such a loud summons could not be ignored unless a charge of cowardice stood.

"Well, señor?" he asked, his lip curling in a sneer, and still twirling the silk handkerchief.

"I apprehend you, señor," Botello said, in a smooth voice, "to change my orders somewhat. Yesterday I told you to remain away from the plaza at any hour when decent folk were abroad. Now I must request that you remain in it, at least until the ladyfolk have entered their houses."

"Indeed, señor? And wherefore?"

"That it will not be necessary for me to call you to account in the presence of gentle nerves that cannot endure a quarrel. Also to prove to these caballeros and myself that you are not purposely quitting the plaza too quickly to avoid any consequences that may be coming to you."

"You question my courage, señor?" Garabito thundered.

"I do not admit, señor, that you have any to question."

"This is not to be endured!"

"Yet, perforce, you endure it!"

"’Tis beneath my dignity as a caballero and a friend of His Majesty. Ferdinand—whom God preserve—to exchange words with such as you. In Seville—"

"’Tis not Seville, señor, but Antigua, that is cursed with your presence at this time. Were it not that I feel called upon to protect honest folk, it would be beneath my dignity to address you."

"Dignity—in rags?" Garabito scoffed.

"Si, señor! Dignity in rags! There you may mark the true caballero, when his dignity is to be observed through his rags—not that I seek to praise myself, but to damn you more! I count it dignity, señor, to have followed the intrepid De Balboa across the jungle to the Great South Sea, which, I believe, you never have set your eyes upon. My tatters were gained in the service of Spain, señor, and that same king whom you but now wished God to preserve. What hard spots are on my hands came from wielding blade, perhaps, and not from twirling a handkerchief!"

"You are modest concerning yourself!" Garabito observed.

"There was a method in it, señor. Self praise is repugnant to me, but I could think of no other subject quickly. My oratory, you will observe, has served to hold you here until the last of the ladies are gone. If you look about, you will see that the plaza is free of femininity now. My object has been served."

Garabito snarled as a rapid glance around the plaza proved the truth of Botello's words.

"Now—to business, señor!" Botello went on. "Yesterday I told you not to show your face on the plaza at this hour. You have seen fit to disobey my orders."

"Where get you authority to issue such orders, señor? Are you governor, by any chance?"

"The saints forbid! I have useful work to do."

"Is this treason?"

"Let us not change the subject," Botello persisted. "I say you disobeyed my orders."

There was silence then for a moment, while Garabito sputtered in his sudden burst of rage, for he could restrain himself no longer before this man.

"Were it not for his excellency's edict. I'd run you through for the fool you are!" he exclaimed.

"His excellency's edict serves to protect his excellency's friends, I observe. I never yet have been run through, señor; it would be a new experience."

"Boaster!"

"Merely another score to settle—that! Why did you disobey my orders?"

"I failed to see your authority to issue them," Garabito said. "And since I have disobeyed what you please to term your orders, what is your pleasure in the matter?"

"For disobeying, a tweak of the nose is enough to show how I regard you, señor!"

Even as he spoke, Botello reached forward quickly and grasped Pasqual Garabito's prominent nose between his strong fingers. He tweaked. Garabito's head was jerked forward and tears sprang into his eyes. He shrieked his rage as Botello released him and he fell backward, and again his hand went to the hilt of his rapier. Botello stood before him, arms folded across his breast, waiting and ready.

"For that I'll slay you as I would a mad dog!" Garabito roared. "Were I not a loyal man and follower of the laws, I'd do it at the present moment. I shall beseech the governor this night to remove his edict for a day, that I may cross blades with you—though I lower myself to do it."

"You'll be lowered properly if you attempt it!" Rodrigo Ruiz exclaimed, laughing loudly. "Be lowered even to the ground and stretched there while priests mumble!"

"I cannot endure such rabble!" Garabito exclaimed to his friend. "And this fellow—this Botello—to push a quarrel in furtherance of his suit for a lady—"

"Hah!" Botello roared, springing forward again. "No lady has been mentioned save by your lips. And those same lips of yours are too foul, señor—"

"When his excellency removes his edict!" Garabito promised; and he whirled on one heel to continue across the plaza.

"A moment, señor!" Botello called. "The tweak on the nose was for disregarding my orders. There is another score."

"Indeed, señor?"

"But, yes! Sometime since, in conversation with another man, you termed me a lying braggart; did you not?"

"Eavesdropping, eh, señor?"

"Your words were loud enough for half the jungle to hear. You said it—did you not?"

"If I did—"

"It would be an insult to De Balboa, my leader, to let such a statement pass without resentment, señor. It were time you admitted to all here that when you spoke you were beside yourself with anger and had small regard for the truth."

"You scarcely can expect such a thing, señor!" Garabito said, sneering again.

"Then suppose, caballero, that you let your friend hold that dainty handkerchief of yours, and draw blade."

Now Rodrigo Ruiz hurried forward and plucked at Botello's sleeve, whispering what it would mean to urge a quarrel; and for an instant Botello turned his head to tell his friend to go about his own business. In that instant. Garabito whipped out his rapier and lunged forward, a foul stroke, while half a score caballeros cried out their warnings to Botello.

Botello whirled in time to dodge the darting weapon, though it ripped through his clothing.

"Another tatter, eh?" he cried, drawing blade in turn.

He knocked Garabito's sword arm aside, and struck his foe across the cheek with the flat of his hand.

"That for a man of your stamp!" he cried. "As foul with blade as you are with speech and in mind and actions, eh? 'Tis a disgrace to our king if you draw such sword in his cause. On guard, señor! You fight for life now!"

Garabito knew it! And now that the issue was at hand, he entered into the combat with zeal, for Garabito was no mean swordsman. Other men sprang back to give them ample room, and because they feared interruption there was no voice, no sound save that of the ringing blades, the shuffling of feet on the hard-baked earth, and the heavy breathing of the combatants.

Thus for the space of five minutes without advantage to either, and then Botello took a step forward and began to force the fighting, his blade darting in and out like the tongue of a snake. Garabito gave ground, for he was growing weak already, and his wrist was tiring, and he was haunted by the knowing smile of Botello that expressed how this combat was to end.

"Too much high living, señor!" Botello taunted. "Already your wind is gone! Your wrist tires! Hah! I almost reached you then! Say your prayers, señor, while yet there is time—but say them swiftly if you would have them done before your eyes glaze. Hah!"

His blade ripped through Garabito's sleeve, and Garabito gave ground again. The men were cheering the combat now, for it was a sight in the presence of which they could not keep silent. They did not notice that Garabito's friend had darted away.

And now he returned, and with him came the governor's lieutenant and two of the guard; and they charged across the plaza, shrieking cries to the combatants to stop in the name of his excellency and the king.

Botello's eyes narrowed and the smile left his face. He attacked furiously, for he would have an end of this affair before interruption came. Foot by foot Garabito was forced to retreat, doing his best to put up what defense he could, knowing that relief was near. Once more Botello's blade slashed at his arm, and this time caused a scratch that brought blood to the surface.

Another furious drive, and Garabito all but turned to flee. But his excellency's lieutenant was at hand now, and his drawn sword crashed against those of the combatants and attempted to hold them up.

But Botello could not be stopped that easily now. He knocked the lieutenant's blade aside, and again he lunged forward, determined to make an end of it. The two guards rushed in; Botello dodged them both and was after his adversary again.

"Caballeros! I command your assistance here—in the king's name!" the lieutenant called.

It was treason to refuse to obey, yet some of the caballeros hesitated. But Botello had no intention of bringing trouble to his friends. He stepped back as Garabito withdrew behind one of the soldiers, and allowed the lieutenant to take his sword from his hand.

"Another time, Señor Garabito!' he called.

"At your pleasure, señor!" the answer came.

But it came in breathless gasps.