Читать книгу The Infidel - Robert Montgomery Bird - Страница 11

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"Señor Juan Lerma," said Cortes, when the last of the assemblage had reluctantly departed:—He had descended from the platform, and spoke with a voice, which, if not decidedly friendly, was, at least, free from every trace of sternness:—"Señor Juan Lerma, I have to say, that for the result of your enterprise, however it has been attended by calamity, you deserve both thanks and honours; and it will rest upon your own determination whether you shall obtain them or not. Some things there are, growing out of this affair, of which it becomes me to speak; and thereby I shall give you an opportunity to remove certain stains not yet washed from your good name; and after that, to take off others that are thought to attach to mine. Hast thou not heard of those fierce and fatal wars, that broke out in Mexico shortly after thy departure."

"I have," said Juan; "the king's spies brought the news to Tzintzontzan; and they were not only lamentable to hear, but they caused us to be cast into cages, and devoted, as we feared, to die the death of sacrifice: For know, señor, the sanguinary Mexitli is the god of all this land."

"And hadst thou no suspicion, before departing, that these wars were brewing, and threatening us with destruction? Thou wert somewhat quicker in catching the heathen tongue than others, and wert not without counsellors and friends even among the household of Montezuma."

To this demand, the young man, though embarrassed by the innuendo that followed it, did not hesitate to answer:

"I had such suspicions, and I made them known to your excellency."

"You did indeed," said Cortes, musingly; "and I derided them, being somewhat heated at the time: but counsel to an irritated temper is even sharper than salt on a wounded skin.—This knowledge, señor," he went on, "some will impute to thee as good reason why thou shouldst loiter fourteen months in the wilderness, to avoid sharing in our perils, which were somewhat more horrible than have ever before beset Christian men."

"This," said Juan, firmly, and a little dryly, for there was something in the tone of the speaker, which, though he knew not why, impressed him unpleasantly—"this is to make me a coward, which your excellency will not believe me to be."

"By my conscience, no!" said Cortes, with emphasis. "Without much thought of this present expedition of which we speak, there is no man will accuse thee of fear, who has heard of thy voyage in the fusta. By my conscience, a most mad piece of daring!" he continued as if in admiration, although it was observable, that, while he spoke, his countenance darkened, as though there were some disagreeable thought associated with the recollection. "No," he went on, "there will be more said of anger and ambition than of terror. Thou knowest, we have envy and detraction about us, that spare none. I can hear, already, how Villafana and other knaves of his peevish, malicious temper, will speak of thee.—They will speak of thy causes for resentment, of the promised favour of the plotting king, a principality among the lakes, with the hope of loftier succession, and the hand of the princely Maiden of the Star——"

"And this," cried Juan, interrupting the general, "this is to make me a traitor and apostate! Señor, I doubt not that the señor Guzman is at the bottom of all this slander: and I therefore claim to defie—"

"Peace! wilt thou put thyself in opposition again? If thou dost but raise thy hand in wrath, save against an infidel enemy, thou wert better never to have been born!"

The sudden sternness with which these words were uttered, checked the impetuosity of the youth, and filled him again with anxious forebodings. The general, instantly resuming the milder tones with which he had spoken before, continued,

"So much will be said of thee. Before I offer thee my hand, in token that I desire to forget everything of the past, but that I once truly loved thee, and before I propose to thee a new and honourable duty—hear—not what will be, but what has been said of myself, in relation to thine expedition and to thee."

Here the general paused a moment, eyeing the youth intently, as if to read his most secret thoughts; then continuing, he said, with the utmost gravity,

"It has been said of me, señor Juan Lerma, that I sent thee upon thy enterprise of the South Seas, in the malicious thought that the blow of savages might execute the sentence of vengeance I cared not to commit to a Christian assassin. What thinkest thou of this?"

"Even that it is the blackest and insanest of slanders; and that it shows me, I have little cause to marvel at my own loss of credit, when I find that malice can aim even at your excellency's. Whatever may have been your anger, I never believed your excellency would conceal it, much less expend it, in secret vengeance upon a feeble wretch like myself."

"Thou hast but little worldly knowledge," said the Captain-General, half smiling, "or thou wouldst know, that revenge is of a reptile's nature, crawling rather in secret among dark thickets than openly over sunny plains, and none the less venomous, that it can lie half a year torpid. Neither put thou much trust in innocent looks; which, to a shrewd eye, are like sea-water—the smoother they lie, the deeper can they be looked into."

Having pronounced these metaphorical maxims with much gravity, his eye all the time bent on the youth, Cortes paused for a moment, as if for a reply; when, receiving none, for, in truth, Juan, not well comprehending them, knew not what to answer, he continued,

"Let us understand one another. There has been strife between us—strife and ill-will. I have perhaps done you injustice: I thought I had cause. By my conscience, young man, I once loved you very well—I have been sorry for you."

"I have deserved your displeasure," said Juan, hurriedly, moved by the earnestness with which the general spoke; "but, I hope, not beyond forgiveness."

"Surely not, surely not," said Cortes; "but what I may forget as thy friend, I am still bound to consider as thy general. I am now the king's officer, and it becomes me, forgetting all private feelings, to know no friends but those who approve themselves true and valuable servants of his majesty. In this character, I must remember some of thy past acts with disfavour; but in both, it is not improper I should desire thou shouldst have opportunity fully to retrieve thy good name, and, in spite of envy and detraction, to deserve such friendship as I have shown thee in former years."

The exile pondered a moment over the words of the general, in more indecision than before. They spoke of friendship and kindness, and seemed to offer an apology for severity that was rather official than personal; and yet, in this apology, was a degree of reproach, of which it appeared Cortes's resolution to keep him always sensible. Nevertheless, this very tone of complaint served to soothe the little exasperation of feelings which had remained in Juan's breast, while smarting under a sense of wrong and injustice. Anger both irritates and hardens the heart; reproach softens, while it distresses. It seemed obvious to Juan, that Cortes, while apprizing him that a full reconciliation had not yet taken place, was willing, nay anxious, that it should. He answered therefore with the greatest fervour,

"If your excellency will but show me in what manner I may regain your favour—at least your belief that I have not wantonly rejected it—I call heaven to witness, I will remember it as such an act of kindness as that which this must ever keep me in memory of."

As he spoke, he touched with his finger a rapier-scar on his right breast, which the narrowness and peculiar fashion of his mantle scarcely enabled him to conceal, even when so disposed.

At this sight, Cortes seemed disordered, if not offended, saying after striding to and fro for an instant,

"Let these follies be forgotten! Bury the past, and think only of the future. It is true, I avenged thy wrong—It gives me no pleasure to remember it.—Did I think this, when I made thee my son—fed thee at my board, lodged thee on my couch, advanced thee, honoured thee, fought thy battles? did I think this? Pho! Juan Lerma, thou hast not repaid me well!"

"Señor!" said Juan, surprised and confounded by the sudden and reproachful bitterness of these words; "when I presumed to speak to you in opposition to your measures, it was with the boldness—the folly—of affection, jealous for your excellency's—your excellency's—"

"Honour!" said Cortes, sharply. "Let us speak of this no more. To business, señor, to business. Leave mine honour to mine own keeping: thou wilt find, I have it even in my thoughts. To business, to business. What say ye, Councillors?—Wilt thou truly steal my dog from me? If you rob me of naught else, it is no matter.—What say you, señor Capitan Del Salto? what say you, Sandoval? Is this young man fit to be entrusted with a captain's command? He was a good Cornet.—Can we confide to him a duty of danger and trust? His pilgrimage to the Hummingbird-land, methinks, was well conducted. What say you? I have a goodly thought for him—But I will abide your better judgment."

"By St. James," said Alvarado, "there is no braver lad in the army; and were he but of clear hidalgo lineage, I should say, give him a command with the best. But here is my thought: he is a good sailor, especially in piraguas and galleys: give him a brigantine. I will crave to have him in the squadron attached to mine own division."

"In my mind," said Sandoval, "he is good for the land service. It is needful we revenge the death of Salcedo and his eighty loons, who suffered themselves to be killed before Tochtepec. Lerma has the love of the dog Xicotencal, who loves nobody else. He can follow the young señor, with some twenty thousand or so of his bare-legs; and they can take the town among them."

"A good thought," said Cortes, "a good thought: for this is a command which, nobody coveting, there will be none to envy. What sayst thou, señor Lerma? wilt thou adventure upon a deed thought to be both dangerous and desperate? Choose for thyself: I will compel thee to nothing. I tell thee the truth.—No captain seeks after this employment, and three have refused, except upon condition that I give them, besides as many Indians as they can raise, three hundred picked Spaniards. Thou canst not look for more than twenty, with some five or six horsemen."

The eyes of the exile sparkled.

"Your excellency honours me."

"Never think so; deceive not thyself," said Cortes, with apparent frankness. "The enterprise is dangerous, nay, as I have said, desperate; and by my conscience, it will be said of it, as of the South Sea journey, that it is devised for thy ruin.—If I honour thee, I must suffer thereby: no evil can happen to thee, that will not be maliciously imputed to wicked and premeditated design. By my conscience, there are many who think me but a hangman in disguise!"

"I hope your excellency will not think of these things," said Juan, fervently. "I will do battle with any one who presumes—"

"Peace: have I not told thee already that the duel is forbidden under heavy penalties? I swear to thee, they shall be enforced, in all cases of disobedience, were it upon my own brother.—I tell thee again, I can advance thee to no service which will not make me the mark of slander. There are fools about us, who, I know not why, have tortured anger into hatred, and will now interpret good-will into malignant treachery. But I care not for this: the tall tree catches the bolts that pass by the underwood—the rock that rises above the sea, is lashed by breakers, while the grovellers at the bottom lie in tranquillity. It is thus with the condition of man;—peace abides with the lowly, envy shoots arrows at the high. Think of this, think of this, Juan Lerma, when thou hearest me maligned."

"I shall not need," said Juan. "The more dangerous the duty, the more must I thank your excellency for your confidence. I beseech, therefore, that I may be permitted to undertake this present enterprise."

"Wilt thou march them on foot, and with no better arms than thy Indian battle-axe and buckler?" demanded the general, gravely.

"I have heard," said Juan, with hesitation, "that your excellency has in charge certain horses and arms, which of right are mine, as being the gifts of a bountiful friend."

"It is even so," said Cortes, "and the restoration of them, which thou canst justly claim, will cause some heart-burnings. I must crave your pardon for having presumed to bestow them away, as though they had been mine own property."

"Under your favour," said Juan, "considering that they were the gifts of your excellency's ever honoured and beloved lady—"

"Ha!" cried Cortes, with a darkening visage, "what fiend possessed thee with this impertinent conceit?"

"I beg your excellency's pardon for my presumption," said Juan, "which was indeed caused no more by rumour than by a belief that there was no other being in the world, who could thus far have befriended me."

"Why then," said Cortes, "if thou knowest not the donor, it is the more remarkable; for nobody else does. Very strange! Two horses, the worst of which is worth full nine hundred crowns, and Bobadil almost priceless;—a suit of armour so well chosen to thy stature, that never a man of us all but is as loose in the cuirass as a shrivelled walnut in the shell—all very positively sent to thee from Santiago—for thee, señor, and for nobody else!"

"They are saint's gifts," said Alvarado, devoutly: "the young man has suffered much, and has found favour with heaven."

"Señor," said Juan, mildly, "you are jesting with me. I will hope, by and by, to discover this benevolent patron. What I have to say now, is that my wants will be content with but one of the horses; the return of which will cause your excellency no trouble—the same being in the hands of the señor Guzman, who has already signified his intention to restore him."

"Ha! has he so, indeed? Why thy very enemies have become thy friends!"

"As for the armour, señor," continued the youth, without thinking fit to notice the latter exclamation, "I will make no claim to it, if you have bestowed it away. A simple morion and breastplate—or indeed a good cap and doublet of escaupil, if iron be scarce—will content me, provided I have but a good sword and steed."

"Thou shalt have both," said Cortes, "and the plate-mail also; which being somewhat too gigantic for any cavalier, and too good for a common soldier, I have preserved, thinking some day to bestow it upon the Tlascalan Xicotencal.—Thou art not loath to undertake this business? I will give thee a day to think of it."

"Not an hour, señor," said Juan, ardently. "Give me but time to exchange these heathen weeds and sandals for good armour and a warhorse, and I will depart instantly, with whatsoever force you may think fit to entrust to me."

"Art thou really, then, so hot after danger?"

"God is my protection," said Juan; "I thank heaven, that this duty is the most dangerous your excellency could charge me with: it is, for that reason, the most honourable."

"Sayst thou so?" cried the Captain-General, quickly. "There is one duty, at least, I could impose upon thee, which thou wouldst not be so hasty to accept? No, faith; for the very name of it has caused the boldest soldier in the army to turn pale.—Get thee to the armory; rest and refresh thyself: to-morrow thou shalt to Tochtepec."

"Señor, for your love I will do what others will not: I have years of benefaction to repay. I claim to be appointed to that task which is so dreadful to others."

"By my conscience, no," said Don Hernan: "this would be sending thee to execution indeed. And yet I know none so well fitted as thyself: Thou art fearless, cunning, discreet—at least thou canst be so; and thou art a master of the barbarous language, I think?"

"Your excellency once commended the success with which I laboured to acquire it: my year's wanderings in the west have made it familiar to me almost as the tongue of Castile."

"It is a good endowment," said Cortes. "What thinkest thou of an embassage to Tenochtitlan?"

As he spoke, pronouncing each word with deliberate emphasis, he bent his eyes searchingly on Juan, and a smile crept over his features, as he perceived the young man lose colour and start.

"The man that would do me that duty," he continued, gravely, "would indeed deserve well, not only of myself, but of his majesty, the king of Spain. But think not I mean to overtask thee—or that I seriously designed to try thee with this rack of probation.—There are bounds to the courage of us all."

"Your excellency mistakes me," said Juan, dispelling all emotion with a single effort, and speaking with a voice as firm as it was serious: "if there be but one good can come of such an embassy—"

"There might be many," said the general, "not the least of which would be the conquest of the city, and thereby of the whole land, without the loss of Christian lives. Could I but find speech with the prince Guatimozin, I have that which will move him to peaceful submission. But this is impossible."

"Again your excellency is deceived," said Juan, with the composure of one who has taken his resolution. "I will do your bidding—I will carry your message to Mexico."

"Pho! I did but jest with thee. Three Indian envoys have I sent already: the infidel slew them all."

"And cannot your excellency answer why? Your envoys were Indians—your excellency's allies, but his subjects, who, in the act of alliance, had committed the crimes of treason and rebellion; for which he punished them with death, as seemed to him right and just. A Spanish ambassador would be received with greater respect, and perhaps dismissed without injury. I will not, with a boastful vanity, proclaim that I fear nothing; but such fears as I have, are not enough to deter me; and again I say, I will do your bidding."

"My bidding!" cried Cortes; "I bid thee not; heaven forfend I should bid thee any such thing. But if thou really thinkest the danger is not great—if thou art so persuaded—" He paused; his eyes sparkled; he strode to and fro in disorder. Then suddenly halting, he exclaimed, with a faint laugh, "No, by my conscience! no, by heaven! no, by St. James of Compostella! thou art the bravest fool of all, but thou shalt not die the death of a dog! I will not catch thee with tiger-traps!"

To these extraordinary expressions, Juan answered with emotion, but still with unvarying resolution,

"I wait your excellency's orders. I fear not death; I am alone in the world;—father or mother, brother or sister, kinsman or friend, there is not one to lament me, should I come to disaster. If I live, I will, as your excellency has said, have saved the effusion of Christian blood; if I die, heaven will remember the motive, and none will miss me.—I will go to Tenochtitlan."

"Thou art a fool," said Alvarado. "Señor Captain-General, this embassy may not be; I protest against it. The world will cry shame on us."

"I do oppose the same," said Sandoval, "as being the wilful throwing away of a Christian life."

The other cavaliers present were about to add their voices against the measure, when Cortes cut them short by saying, sternly,

"Are ye all mad, señores? Think ye, this thing was said seriously? I did but try the young man's mettle, and I do think he hath somewhat less of gaingiving about him, as well as much more folly, than any one here present. I must get me an ambassador; but, Juan Lerma, thou art not the man."

"To my thought," said Sandoval, "this old Indian, Ocelotzin, will be a much safer emissary."

Apparently the Ottomi, who had listened throughout the whole conference with great attention, and who understood just enough of it to know the course that affairs were taking, did not at all relish the suggestion of Sandoval. He started, flung the gray curtain of hair from his visage, and began to pour forth a torrent of such objurgations and remonstrances as he could find Spanish to express:

"I am not Ocelotzin, the Tiger," he exclaimed; "very weak and old I am—no claw, no tooth, no roar."—And here the barbarian, by way of confirming his speech, set up a yell, so wild, shrill, and hideous, that the cavaliers started back, catching at their swords in alarm, and two or three soldiers from the ante-room rushed in, as if apprehending some act of treason. But the dog Befo, who had hitherto maintained his post at the feet of Lerma, now rubbing against his knees, now rearing against his breast, and sometimes, when pushed down and too long neglected, expressing his impatience or affection, by extending his vast jaws, as if to swallow the hand that repelled him—the dog Befo heard the cry of the savage with such indignation as he would have bestowed upon the howl of a rival. He replied with a lion-like growl, and stalking up to the Ottomi, he stood watching him, ever and anon writhing his lips so as to disclose his huge fangs, and seemed waiting the signal to attack, greatly to the terror of the orator.

A wave of the general's hand dismissed the intruding soldiers from the apartment; and at the voice of Lerma, the dog returned to him.

"I am Techeechee," said the orator, resuming his discourse, but with tones greatly subdued; "I am Techeechee, the Silent Dog—the Silent Dog I am; Techeechee, the Silent Dog—the Silent Dog I am.—Techeechee."—

All this time, he kept his eyes fixed upon Befo as if dreading an assault; and, in fact, his solicitude had somewhat overpowered his mind, so that he continued for some moments to reiterate the above phrases, without any seeming consciousness of their absurdity. At last, he fell into his vernacular language, and this happily releasing him from his trammels, he poured forth, with amazing volubility, a string of sounds, so harsh, guttural, inarticulate, and unearthly, that they seemed rather the basso chatterings of an ape than the meaning accents of a human being.

"What says the knave?" cried Cortes.

"He says," replied Juan, "that he is the little dumb dog of the hills, and will harm nobody; that Montezuma was a big dog, like Befo, (wherein he lies,) and that Guatimozin the prince is bigger still, and will eat him—which is to be understood figuratively. He says, he is the Little Dog, and therefore not fit to be an ambassador; but—Ha! what sayst thou, Techeechee?"—

The young man spoke to the Ottomi in his own tongue, and receiving an answer, turned immediately to Cortes, saying,

"It becomes me to inform your excellency of his words; for savage though he be, this old man I have ever found to be marvellously shrewd, as well as faithful. It is his opinion, that the prince Guatimozin would not injure me, if I went on the embassy; wherefore, I beg your excellency to reconsider your resolution. He says, too, he will go with me."

"Your destiny, señor, is to the rebellious and bloody town Tochtepec," replied the general, quickly and decidedly.

"He adds," continued Juan, "that he is Techeechee and no ambassador; but that he is cousin to Quimichin, the Ground Rat, and that he will be your spy—for quimichin is the word by which they express a spy throughout the whole land."

"I am Techeechee; I will be Quimichin," said the Indian, as if to confirm the words of Juan, and twisting his withered features into a smile, that was meant to express both cunning and affection.

"Dost thou think him faithful?" said Cortes. "I will find service for him. But go, amigo! I have kept thee till thou art as faint and weary as myself. Get thee to Quinones, and the armory. Make thy preparations and take thy rest. I will see thee on the morrow—perhaps to-night, and acquaint thee with thy force and instructions. God be with you—Nay, heed not the dog—Adieu, señores—He has much of your own fidelity, roam he never so much. Take him with you."

When the last of the cavaliers had departed from the chamber, the Captain-General, stepped upon the platform, and throwing himself into the chair of state, sat or reclined thereon, with the air of one worn out by exertion of mind and body, and on the eve of sinking into a swoon.