Читать книгу The Infidel - Robert Montgomery Bird - Страница 10

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The apartment into which Juan now found himself introduced, was very spacious; and, indeed, had the height of the ceiling corresponded in proportion with the length and breadth, would have been esteemed vast. Without being so low as to be decidedly mean, it was yet depressed enough to show how little the principles of taste had extended among the natives, to the art of architecture; or, what is equally probable, how wisely provision was made against the earthquakes and other convulsions, so naturally to be expected in a land of volcanoes.

The huge rafters of cedar, carved into strange and emblematic arabesques, were supported, at intervals, by a double row of pillars of the most grotesque shapes. On the walls were hung arras, on which were painted rude scenes of battle and of sacrifice, with hieroglyphic records of history, as well as choice maxims of virtue and policy, selected from the compositions of that king, who had finished, and given name to the habitation, long since founded by his ancestors. It was lighted in a manner equally rare and magnificent. A considerable space in the further or western wall, from which the tapestry was drawn aside, was occupied by stone mullions of strange forms, between which were fixed large translucent blocks of alabaster, such as we now behold in the church windows of Puebla de los Angelos. Upon these were painted many incomprehensible figures, which would have deformed the beauty of the stone, but for the brilliancy and delicacy of their hues. As it was, the strong glare of the evening sun, falling upon this transparent wall, came through it, with the mellow lustre and harmonious tints of a harvest-moon, shedding a soft but sufficient light over the whole apartment, making what was harsh tender, and what was lovely almost divine.[7]

On the left hand, were several narrow doors, opening upon a garden, which was seen, sometimes, when the breeze stirred aside the curtains that defended them; on the right, were others leading to certain chambers, and carefully protected by a similar drapery.

The floor of this hall of audience was covered with mats stained with various colours.

At the farther extremity of the apartment stood a group of Spanish cavaliers, surrounding a platform of slight elevation, on which, sumptuously dressed, and leaning upon a camoncillo, or chair of state, stood Hernan Cortes. At his right hand, sitting and supported by two gallant cavaliers, was his royal god-son, Ixtlilxochitl, now Don Hernan Cortes, the king of Tezcuco;—a young man of mild aspect; at whose feet sat his younger and more manly brother, Suchel, from whom was afterwards derived one of the noble families of New Spain. On the left of the general, were two Indians of a far nobler presence, and known by the singular loftiness of their plumes, if not by the commanding sternness of their visages, to be Tlascalans of high degree. They were, in fact, the military chieftains Xicotencatl and Chichimecatl, men of renown not only among their tribes, but the Spaniards. Behind each stood his page, or esquire, bearing the great shield of ceremony, whereon were emblazoned, in native heraldic devices, the various exploits of his master.

Besides these distinguished barbarians, there were others of note among the cavaliers, at the side of the platform.

All these several details of a spectacle both romantic and imposing, were seen by Juan at a single glance; for, almost at the moment of his entrance, a movement was made among those who stood on the left of the platform, in the direction of the great Conquistador, as if they desired to catch something that instant falling from his lips. As they left the view thus open, Juan saw that Cortes, instead of speaking, was bending his head and listening with eager interest to the señor Guzman, who had ascended the platform, and was now whispering in his ear. At the same moment, a prodigiously large dog, with shaggy coat, hanging lips, and ferocious eyes, roused by the motion of the general, at whose feet he had been sleeping, raised his head, and stared with the majestic gravity of a lion, upon the speaker and his master.

There was something in the interested and agitated eagerness with which the Captain-General drank in the words of Guzman, that went to the heart of Lerma. He doubted not, that Don Francisco was, at that moment, speaking of him—of his return to the society of Christians, and to the arms of his benefactor—for such had Cortes once been to him; and he read in the varying play of Don Hernan's features, nothing but refutation of the malign charges of Villafana, and full proof that the general was not indifferent to the friend of former years.

As these thoughts entered his mind, he rushed forward, under their impulse, with clasped hands, and with an exclamation that brought the looks of all instantly upon him. The huge dog raised himself half up from the platform, and uttered a savage growl. He advanced yet another step, and the ferocious beast, with a roar that filled the whole chamber, dashed furiously from the platform, as against an enemy not to be doubted. The young man paused, but not at the opposition of the animal: he had, that moment, caught the eye of Don Hernan, and his heart failed as he beheld the frown of rage, and, as it seemed to him, hate, with which he was regarded.

"Down, Befo!" cried Cortes, with a voice of thunder.

But Befo, who had leaped forward with such ferocious determination, had, that instant, stopped before Juan, whom he now eyed with a look of wonder and recognition. Then, suddenly fetching such a yelp of joy as would have better become the playmate-cur of a child, than the grim bloodhound of a soldier, he raised up his vast body, flung his paws upon Juan's breast, and strove, evidently, to throw them round his body, in the mode of human embrace, whining all the time with the most expressive delight.

"Down, Befo! Thick-lips! thou cub of a false wolf!" repeated the general, irefully, yet with an expression that would have suited better, had he been commanding him to tear the youth to pieces; "Down, fool, down! I will stick thee with my rapier."

As he spoke, he half drew his sword from the scabbard.

"Harm him not—call him not away," cried Juan, with a thick voice; "for by heaven and St. Mary, he is all, of a troop of Christian men, once my friends, who have any joy to see an old companion return from bonds and the grave!"

As the young man spoke, he flung his arms round the neck of the faithful beast, and bending his head upon Befo's face, gave way to a passion of tears.

"The shame of foul knaves and false companions be on you all!" cried the flaming Gaspar, without a whit regarding the presence in which he spake. His wrath was cut short, before it had been noticed by any but the Ottomi, who stood gaping, at a distance, with looks of visible alarm, first excited by the appearance of the dog.

Among most of the cavaliers now present, Juan had been once well known; and however their affections might be chilled and their respect destroyed, by untoward circumstances, there was something so painfully reproachful in the spectacle of his tears, that a strong impression was immediately produced among them. All seemed, at once, to remember, that he had been once esteemed, notwithstanding his youth, of a bold heart and manly bearing; and all seemed to remember also, that fourteen months' suffering among unknown pagans, was worthy of some little commiseration.

But there was one present of more fiery feelings and determination more hasty than any of the Christians. The elder and taller of the Tlascalan chiefs, distinguished as much by a haughty and darkly frowning visage as by an Herculean frame, stepped down from the platform, and laid his hand upon Juan's shoulder; in which position he stood, without speaking a word, but expressing in his countenance the spirit of one who avowed himself a patron and champion. The tall plume rustled like a waving palm, as he raised up his head, and the look that he cast upon Cortes, seemed to mingle defiance with disdain. But this hostile expression was perhaps concealed by the approach of a cavalier of gallant appearance, who stepped suddenly from the throng, and snatching up Juan's left hand from the dog's neck, cried with hasty good-will,

"Santiago! (and the devil take all of us that have no better hearts than a cur or a wild Indian!) I know no reason, certainly, why thou shouldst be treated like a dog. God be with thee, Juan Lerma! I am glad thou art alive; God bless thee: and so hold up thy head. If thou hast no better raiment, I will give thee my fustian breeches and liver-coloured mantle, as well as a good sword of iron, which I have to spare."

This quick-spoken and benevolent cavalier was no less a man than the gallant Don Pedro de Alvarado, at this time called, almost universally, in memory of his famous leap over the ditch of Tacuba, in the Night of Sorrow, the Capitan del Salto. He gave place to another of still greater renown, who would have been perhaps the first to extend his hand, had he been as hasty of resolution as his more mercurial comrade. This was the good cavalier Don Gonzalo de Sandoval, better esteemed for his skill in arms than any peculiar elegance of conversation.

"Juan Lerma," said he, "I am not sorry thou art alive and well; and if thou wilt make any use of the same, to put thee into more Christian bravery, I will pray thee to take my gold chain, as well as six good cotton shirts, which an Indian woman made me."

To these friendly salutations and bountiful offers, as well as the advances of other cavaliers who now bustled around him, Juan replied with a manner more expressive of indignation than gratitude. He was ashamed of having exposed his weakness, and sensible that it was this alone which had obtained him a charitable notice. He raised his head proudly, as one who would not accept such compelled kindness, pushed Befo to the floor, though still keeping a hand upon his neck, acknowledged the presence of Xicotencal with a word, and turned towards Cortes a countenance now quite composed, though not without a touch of sorrowful resentment.

The emotion which had produced such an impression among the cavaliers, was not without its effect even upon the Captain-General. His features relaxed their angry severity, he stepped forwards; and when Juan lifted up his eyes, he beheld a hand extended towards him, and heard the voice of Cortes say, in tones of concession, though of embarrassment,

"God be with you—you do us wrong in this matter: as a Christian man escaped from bondage, we are not unrejoiced to see you: as a soldier returning from a delayed duty, we will declare our thoughts of you anon."

There was nothing very gracious either in the words or tones of the speaker; but they were unexpected. They swept away the proud and angry resolutions of Juan, and restored to him the warm feelings of affection and gratitude, with which he had ever been accustomed to regard the general. He seized the proffered hand, pressed it to his lips, and seemed about to throw himself at Don Hernan's feet, when suddenly a noise was heard at a curtained door hard by, accompanied by what seemed the smothered shriek of a woman. At this sound the young man started up, with a look of fear, and yielded up the hand which was abruptly snatched from his own. He gazed round him and plainly beheld the thick cloth before the nearest passage, shaking, as if disturbed by the recent passage of some one—but nothing else. He perceived no new countenance added to those of the many in audience, which were directed upon his own, with an universal stare of wonder. His attention was recalled by the voice of Cortes. He turned; the general was seated; a stern and iron gravity had taken the place of relenting feeling on his visage; and it was evident to the unfortunate Juan, that the hour of reconciliation had passed away, and for ever. The cavaliers retreated—the Tlascalan and the dog were all that remained by his side; and, as if to make his disgrace both undeniable and intolerable, the señor Guzman maintained, throughout the whole scene, his post at the general's side, confronted face to face with his fallen rival.

"We are ready to hear thee, Juan Lerma," said the Captain-General, with a voice at once cold and commanding: "you went hence, to explore the lands of the west, and the sea that rolls among them. We argue much success, and great discoveries, from the time devoted to these purposes, and from the discretion you evinced in pursuing them for a whole year and more, rather than by returning with your forces, to share in the dangerous fights of Mexico. What have you to say? You had some good followers, both Christian and unconverted.—Stand thou aloof, Gaspar Olea! I will presently speak with thee.—Hast thou brought none back with thee but the Barba-Roxa—Gaspar of the Red Beard?"

There was not a word in this address which did not sting the young man to the heart; and the insulting insinuation which a portion of it conveyed, was uttered in a tone of the most cutting sarcasm. He trembled, reddened, clenched his hand in the shaggy coat of Befo—who still, though beckoned by Cortes, refused to leave the exile—until the animal whined with pain. Then, smothering his emotions, like one who perceives that he is wronged, and, knowing that complaint will be unavailing, is resolute to suffer with fortitude, he elevated his lofty figure with tranquil dignity, looked upon Cortes with an aspect no longer reproachful, and replied,

"Besides Gaspar, who is worthy of your excellency's confidence and thanks, no one returns with me save the Ottomi, Ocelotzin—the Tiger; a man to whom should be accorded the praise of having saved the life of Gaspar, which is valuable to your excellency, and my own—which is worthless."

As he spoke, he pointed to the ancient barbarian, who stepped forward with the same affectionate smiles and grimaces which he had bestowed upon the party at the cypress-tree, and with many uncouth gestures of reverence, saying, in imperfect Castilian, after he had touched the floor with his hand, and then kissed it,

"Ottomi I—good friend, good rascal; but Ocelotzin no more. I am Techeechee,[8] the Silent Dog—the little dog without voice—Techeechee!"

As he spoke, he cast his eyes, with less of love than admiring fear, upon the gigantic beast, whose voice was to him, as well as to his countrymen, more terrible than the yell of the mountain tiger.

"I remember thee, good fellow," said the Captain-General.

Then, without bestowing any further present notice on him, he turned again to Juan, speaking with the same cold and magisterial tones:

"And where, then, are the two Christians of La Mancha, and the seventy warriors of Matlatzinco, who composed your party? the arms you carried? and the four good horses entrusted to your charge?"

"Your excellency shall hear," said Juan, calmly: "The two Manchegos were ill inclined to the expedition; and therein were my followers but unfortunately selected."

"They were mutineers!" cried Gaspar, whose anger was not mollified by being made a witness to the ill fate of his young captain: "they were mutineers; and so the devil has them."

"Hah!" exclaimed Cortes, starting up, with what seemed angry joy: "didst thou dare arrogate the privileges of a judge, and condemn a Christian man to death?"

"I am guiltless of such presumption," said Juan. "To their dissatisfaction, to their disobedience—nay, to their frequent threats, and open disregard of the commands your excellency had yourself imposed upon us, not to provoke the Indians among whom we might be journeying—I adjudged no punishment but the assurance that your excellency should certainly be made acquainted with their acts. With much persuasion, I prevailed upon them to follow me, until we had reached the sea, which it was your excellency's command I should first examine."

"Ay!" said Cortes, again starting up, but with an air of exultation; "thou hast found it then? and a port that may give shelter to ships of burthen?"

"Not one port only, but many," said Juan, with a faltering voice, mistaking the satisfaction of the leader for approbation. "In a space of seventy leagues, (for so much of the coast was I able to survey,) there are many harbours, exceedingly spacious, deep and secure; and some of such excellence, that I question whether the world contains any others to equal them. Near to some, there is much good ship timber, as well as lands amazingly fertile and beautiful."

"This is well," said the Captain-General, coldly. "Thou hast well devoted a year of time to the examination of seventy leagues of coast."

"Had that been the only subject of your excellency's orders," said Lerma, "you should have had no cause for dissatisfaction. This accomplished, it became me, as your excellency had commanded, to explore those gold lands to the northwest, and discover that kingdom of Huitzitzila, as it was erroneously called by Montezuma, which bordered upon his dominions, and had ever maintained its independence by force of arms."

At these words, many of the cavaliers looked surprised, as if made acquainted with this article of Juan's instructions for the first time, and some exchanged meaning glances, which were not lost on Cortes. He frowned, and hastily exclaimed,

"You are wrong; I commanded you not. That kingdom being at enmity with Mexico, it was not fit your lives should be endangered, by rashly adventuring within its confines. You were advised, if you should find we had been deceived in the character of those infidels of Huitzitzila, to make yourself acquainted with them and their country: but this was left to your discretion."

"It is true," said Juan mildly, "your excellency did so advise me; and the fault which I committed was in thinking that I should best please you, by penetrating to that land, without much thought of difficulty or danger. In this, as in other things, as Gaspar will be my witness, I was opposed by those unhappy Manchegos; who deserted from me in the night, carrying with them, (to replace a horse which they had lost in a river,) the charger which your excellency had given to me for my own riding—as well as their arquebuses—which was still more unfortunate; for Gaspar's piece had been broken by a fall, and we were thus left without firearms, with but one horse, and no better weapon to procure us food, than mine own crossbow, and the arrows of the Matlatzincos."

"Now, by my conscience," said Cortes, "I know not which the more to admire—the good vigilance that allowed these knaves to escape, or the rash-brained folly which led you to continue the expedition without them!"

The sarcasm produced no change in Juan's visage. He seemed to have made up his mind not only to endure injustice, but to expect it.

"Their desertion was neither unforeseen nor unopposed," he answered. "It is my grief to say, that they forgot the obligations both of discipline and Christianity, and desperately fired upon Gaspar and myself; whereby they killed our remaining horse, and wounded myself in the side."

"And where then were thy knavish Indians, that thou didst not slay the false traitors on the spot?" cried Cortes, with an indignation, which, this time, had the right direction.

The answer to this added but another item of mischance to the young man's story. The arts of the Manchegos had spread disaffection among his Indian followers, many of whom had deserted with them. Following after the mutineers, he was, shortly after, abandoned by the rest; and then his little party, consisting only of Gaspar and the Ottomi, was attacked, by hostile tribes, driven back upon the path, and finally forced to take refuge in the dominions of that native monarch, whose reputed grandeur and wealth had so long since excited the curiosity of Don Hernan.

The relation of Lerma, though of such thrilling interest that it absorbed the attention of all present, and even so wrought upon the mind of Cortes, that he gradually discharged the severity of his countenance, and even at last ceased altogether to interrupt it with sarcasm or commentary of any kind, has too little, or at least too indirect a connexion with the present history, to require it to be given in the exile's words, or at any length. With the main facts—his long captivity and final escape—the reader is already acquainted; and it is not perhaps necessary to add more than that the kingdom of which so much has been said, was that of Mechoacan, and that its capital Tzintzontzan, (the Place of Hummingbirds,) corrupted by the Mexicans into Huitzitzila, lies yet, though dwindled into the meanest of villages, upon the beautiful lake Pascuaro. Juan knew nothing of the fate of the Manchegos. By a comparison of dates, it was discovered that the sudden outbreaking of hostilities, which had driven him into this remote land, had followed almost immediately upon the tumults In Mexico, which had resulted in the death of Montezuma and the expulsion of the Spaniards; and it was not doubted, that the mutineers had met a miserable and speedy death. With the account of lands of unexampled beauty and fertility, of rivers of gold and hills of silver, we have nothing to do, except to remark that it determined the fate of Mechoacan as certainly as if the order had been uttered for its immediate subjugation. The whole account might have been omitted, except that it was necessary, as the means of explaining some of the feelings with which the young Lerma was regarded by the general and his chief followers.

There is no eloquence so persuasive as that of distress, uttered without complaint; and no story of hardship and peril fails of exciting sympathy, when recounted with truth and modesty. Accordingly, the narrative of the exile produced among the cavaliers a powerful impression in his favour, which was heightened into admiration by the consciousness that nothing but the greatest constancy of purpose, and mental resources beyond those of ordinary men, could have conducted him through his long and perilous enterprise. Many of those, who seemed to remember with most interest the breach between the general and one who had been formerly considered almost his adopted son, kept their eyes curiously bent on Cortes; and they did not doubt, from the changes of his countenance, that his better feelings were deeply engaged, and would perhaps restore the young man to the confidence and affection which all knew he had lost. This belief became universal, when, at the close of the story, the Captain-General arose, and addressing the throng, said,

"Cavaliers and friends, we will free all present from the tedium of this audience, saving only the gentlemen of the Secret Counsel, and these our returned friends.—Nay, by my faith, Gaspar of the Red Beard, thou mayst depart likewise, to speak thy adventures to thine old friends, which thou art doubtless itching to do; or, if thou likest that better, get thee to Antonio de Quinones, our Master of the Armory, and choose thyself a good sword, buckler and breastplate. Thou art a true soldier, and, by and by, I have somewhat to say to thee.—The knave has the gait of an infidel!"

At this signal for breaking up the audience, which was pronounced with the grave and easy authoritativeness of one long accustomed to command, the individuals present, Christian and heathen, princes, chieftains, and cavaliers, took their departure, leaving behind them Sandoval, Alvarado, and a few other officers of high standing.

As Juan stood, embarrassed between hope and doubt, the señor Guzman descended from the platform, and, passing him, said with a low voice and a derisive smile,

"You mount, señor, and Bobadil neighs for you! It is better—the war is equal."

So saying, he passed on.