University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

This discourse of the novice, together with the
magical unction of the wound, occupied so much
time, that when it was finished, the storm had in a
great measure passed away; and Botello, either feeling
his inability to reply to it with an allegory of
equal beauty, or despairing to overcome the scepticism
of the cavalier, instead of answering, rose from
his seat, and led the way to the post on the hill-side,
which they had lately deserted.

Drops of rain still occasionally fell from the heavens,
or were whirled by the passing gusts from the
boughs; the clouds still careered menacingly in the
atmosphere; and though the sunbeams ever and anon
burst through their rent sides, and glimmered with
splendour on the shivered tops and lacerated roots of
many a fallen tree, it was still doubtful at what moment
the capricious elements might resume their conflict.
The river, that was before a brook, now rolled
along a turbid torrent, and seemed, every moment, to
augment in volume and fury, as its short-lived tributaries
poured down their foaming treasures from the
hills.—

“The boy to his bed, and the fool to his fire-side!”
cried the enchanter, with a sudden exultation, as,
pointing down the hill, he disclosed to the cavalier the
valley deprived of its late visiters. The armed men
of Cadmus had not risen from the soil with a more
magical celerity than had the soldiers of Narvaez
vanished: the valley was silent and solitary. “I said
the tempest should open for us a path!” continued
Botello; “and lo! the spirit which was given to me
does not lie!”

“I must confess,” quoth Don Amador, with surprise,
“you have in this instance, as in several others,
verified your prediction. What juggler's trick is this?
Where is the hound Narvaez?”

“Galloping back to Zempoala, to amuse himself
with the dancers on the pyramid,” said Botello, with
a grin of saturnine delight. “He came out against
Cortes, and his heart failed him in the tempest: he
loves better, and so do his people, the comfort of the
temple, than the strife of these tropical elements. Wo
be to him who would contend with a strong man,
when he hides his head from the shower! He shall vapour
in the morning, but tremble when the enemy
comes to him in dreams!”

“And I am to understand, then,” said Amador,
with a voice of high scorn and displeasure, “that
these effeminate hinds, after drawing out their forces
in the face of an enemy, have taken to their heels,
like village girls in a summer festival, at the dashing
of rain?”

“It is even so,” said Botello: “they are now hiding
themselves in their quarters; while those veterans
who awaited them beyond the river, stand yet to
their arms, and blush even to look for the shelter of
a tree.”

“Let us descend, then,” said the cavalier, “and
join them without delay; for I believe those men of
Cortes are true soldiers, and I long to make their acquaintance.”

“It is needful we do so, and that quickly,” said the

astrologer; “for this river, though by midnight it
shall again be shrunk to a fairy brook, will, in an
hour, be impassable.”

It required not many moments to convey the party
to the banks of the stream; but when they had reached
it, it was apparent, it could not be forded without
peril. Its channel was wild and rocky; fallen and
shivered trees fringed its borders with a bristling
net-work, over and among which the current raved
with a noisy turbulence. The cavalier regarded it
with solicitude; but perceiving that the magician was
urging his horse into it without hesitation, he prepared
forthwith to follow his example. He saw, however,
that the secretary faltered; and feeling as much
pity for his inexperience, as commiseration for the
helplessness to which, as he supposed, the arrow-hurt
had reduced him, he rode up to him with words of
comfort and encouragement.

“Thou perceivest,” he said, “that Botello goes into
the water without fear. Thou shalt pass, Lorenzo,
without danger; for besides placing Lazaro on one
side of thee, I will myself take station on the other.
If thou shouldst, by any mischance, find thyself out
of depth, all that thou canst do, will be to trust the
matter to thy horse, who is doubtless too sagacious
to thrust himself into any superfluous jeopardy. Be
of good heart: this is a small matter: thou wilt one
day, perhaps, if thou continuest to desire the life and
fame of a soldier, have to pass a more raging torrent
than this, and that, too, in the teeth of an enemy.”

The secretary blushed at his fears, and willing to
retrieve his character, dashed into the flood with an
alacrity that carried him beyond his patron. For a
moment he advanced steadily and securely, at the
heels of Botello; but becoming alarmed at the sight
of a tree surging down towards him, he veered a little
from the direction, and instantly found his horse
swimming under him. Before Lazaro or the cavalier
could approach to his aid, his discomposure got
so much the better of his discretion, that he began to

jerk and pull at the reins in such a manner as to infuse
some of his own disorder into the steed. Don
Amador beheld the sorrel nag not only plunging and
rearing in the water, but turning his head down the
stream, and swimming with the current.

“Give thy horse the reins, and perplex him not,
Lorenzo!” he cried, urging the dauntless Fogoso to
his rescue; “jerk not, pull not, or thou wilt be in
great danger.”

But before the secretary could obey the voice of
Don Amador, and before the latter could reach him,
the hand of Lazaro had grasped the bridle, and turned
the animal's head to the bank.

“Suppose thou wert in the midst of a company of
fighting spearmen, instead of this spluttering gutter,”
said the man-at-arms, in his ear, “wouldst thou distract
thy beast in this school-boy fashion?”

The contemptuous composure of the soldier did
more to restore the spirits of Fabueno, than the counsels
of the cavalier; and yielding up the guidance of
himself as well as his animal, to Lazaro, he was soon
out of danger.

In the meanwhile, Don Amador, in his hurry to
give the secretary relief, had taken so little note of
his own situation, that when he beheld his ward in
safety, he discovered that he was himself even more
disagreeably situated. A few yards below him was
a cluster of rocks, against which, as he discerned at
a glance, it would be fatal to be dashed, but which
he saw not how he could avoid, inasmuch as the
bank above them was so palisaded by the sharp and
jutting boughs of a prostrate tree, that it seemed
impossible he could effect a landing there. While
balancing in doubt, at a time when doubt, as he well
knew, was jeopardy, he heard a voice suddenly crying
to him from the bank,

“What ho, señor! holla! 'Ware the rocks, and
spur on: your hope is in the tree-top.”

While Don Amador instinctively obeyed this command,
and urged his steed full towards the threatening

branches, he raised his head, and perceived a
cavalier on a dun horse riding into the water, above
the rocks hard by the tree, as if to convince him of
the practicability of the passage, and the shallowness
of the water. This unknown auxiliary stretched
forth his hand, and doing to Amador the service rendered
by Lazaro to the secretary, the neophyte instantly
found himself in safety, and ascending the
bank of the river. Not till his charge was on dry
land, did the stranger relax his hand; and then perhaps
the sooner, that Don Amador seized it with a
most cordial gripe, and while he held it, said, fervently,—

“I swear to thee, cavalier! I believe thou hast
saved me from a great danger, if thou hast not absolutely
preserved my life: for which good deed, besides
giving thee my most unfeigned present thanks,
I avow myself, till the day of my death, enslaved under
the necessity to requite thee with any honourable
risk thou canst hereafter impose.”

While Don Amador spoke, he perused the countenance
and surveyed the figure of his deliverer. He
was a man in the prime and midway of life, tall and
long-limbed, but with a breadth of shoulders and development
of muscle that proved him, as did the
grasp with which he assisted the war-horse from the
flood, to possess great bodily strength. His face was
handsome and manly, though with rather delicate
features; and a very lofty and capacious forehead
shone among thin black locks, and under a velvet
cap worn in a negligent manner, with a medal of a
saint draggling loosely from it. His beard was black
and thin, like his hair, and Amador plainly perceived
through it the sear of a sword-cut between the chin
and mouth. His garments were of a fine and dark
cloth, without much ornament; but his fanfarrona, as
it was called in the language of the cavaliers, was a
gold chain of at least thrice the weight and bigness
of the neophyte's, linked round his neck, and supporting
a pendant of Christ and the Virgin; and in addition,

Don Amador saw on a finger of the hand he
grasped, a diamond ring of goodly size and lustre.
Such was the valiant gentleman, who won the friendship
of the neophyte not less by his ready good will
than by his excellent appearance; although this last
qualification was perhaps not displayed to advantage,
inasmuch as his whole attire and equipments, as well
as the skin and armour of his horse, were dripping
with wet, as if both had been lately plunged into the
river or exposed to all the rigour of the storm. He
replied to Don Amador's courtesies with a frank and
open countenance, and a laugh of good humour, as if
entirely unconscious of any discomfort from his reeking
condition, or of any merit in the service he had
rendered.

“I accept thy offers of friendship,” he said, “and
very heartily, señor. But I vow to thee, when I
helped thee out of the stream, I thought I should
have had to give thee battle the next moment, as a
sworn friend of Don Panfilo, the Biscayan.”

“How little justice there was in that suspicion,”
said Amador, “you will know when I tell you, that,
at this moment, next to the satisfaction of finding
some opportunity to requite your true service, I know
of no greater pleasure the saints could send me
than a fair opportunity to cross swords with this ill-mannered
general, in serious and mortal arbitrement.
Know, señor, I am at this moment a captive escaped
out of the hands of that most dishonourable and unworthy
person, seeking my way, with my followers,
under guidance of a certain conjurer called Botello,
to the camp of the valiant señor Don Hernan Cortes:
and I rejoice in this rencounter the more, because I
am persuaded you are yourself a true friend of that
much-respected commander.”

“Ay, by my conscience! you may say so,” cried
the blithe cavalier; “and I would to heaven Cortes
had many more friends that love him so well as myself.
But come, señor; you are hard by his head-quarters.—Yet,
under favour, let us, before seeking

them, say a word to Botello, who, with your people,
I perceive, has crossed the river.”

A few steps of their horses brought the two cavaliers
into contact with the travellers, with whom Don
Amador beheld some half-a-dozen strangers, all of
hidalgo appearance, on horseback, and dripping with
wet like his new friend, but, unlike him, armed to the
teeth with helm, mail, and buckler.

“How now, Botello, mi querido?” he cried, as he
rode in among the party; “what news from my brother
Narvaez? and what conjuration wert thou enacting.
while he was scampering away before the
bad weather?”

“Nothing but good, señor!” said Botello, baring
his head, and bending it to the saddle.

The neophyte was surprised at this mark of homage
in the enchanter, whom he had found, though
neither rude nor presumptuous, not over-burthened
with servility. Looking round to the other hidalgos,
he discovered that they all kept their eyes upon his
companion with looks of the deepest respect. At the
same moment, and as the truth entered his mind, he
caught the eye of his deliverer, and perceived at
once, in this stately though unarmed cavalier, the
person of the renowned Cortes himself. For a moment,
it seemed as if the general were disposed to
meet the disclosure with a grave and lofty deportment
suitable to his rank; but as Don Amador raised
his hand to his casque with a gesture of reverence, a
smile crept over his visage, which was instantly succeeded
by a good-humoured and familiar laugh.

“Thou seest, señor!” he cried, “we will be masking
at times, even without much regard either for our
enemies or the weather. But trust me, caballero, you
are welcome; and doubtless not only to myself, but
to these worthier gentlemen, my friends.” And here
the general pronounced the names of Sandoval, of
De Morla, of De Leon, De Olid, and others,—all, as
was afterwards proved, men of great note among the

invaders of Mexico. The neophyte saluted them with
courtesy, and then, turning to the general, said:—

“I am myself called Amador de Leste, a poor
hidalgo of Cuenza, a novice of the order of St. John
of the Holy Hospital, and kinsman of the knight Gines
Gabriel de Calavar, to seek whom am I come to this
land of Mexico, and to the tents of your excellency.”

All bowed with great respect at this annunciation;
and Cortes himself, half raising his drooping cap,
said:—

“I doubly welcome the cavalier De Leste; and
whether he come to honour me with the aid of his
good sword, or to rob me of the true friendship of the
knight Calavar, still am I most glad to see him: and
glad am I that heaven has sent us a kinsman to watch
by the side of the good knight. Señor,” continued
the general, anticipating the questions of the neophyte,
“if you will moderate your impatience a little, until
I fulfil my duties with my mad friend here, the astrologer,
I will be rejoiced in person to conduct you to
your kinsman.”

The courteous manners of Hernan Cortes did more
to mollify the ardour of the novice than could any
degree of stateliness. He smothered his impatience,
though it was burning with a stronger and an increasing
flame; while the general proceeded to confer
with the magician.

“How is it, Magico mio?” he cried. “I had a
deserter this morning, who told me thou hadst been
entrapped,—that my brother Narvaez had cudgelled
thee with his own hands, and had some thoughts of
hanging thee.”

“Such is, in part, the truth,” said Botello, tranquilly.
“He was incensed at the stars, and struck me with
his foot, because the Spirit of the Crystal gave not
an answer to his liking.”

“Ay, indeed!” cried Cortes, curiously; “and Kalidon
hath been speaking to him! What said Kalidon-Sadabath
of Narvaez?”

“He said that, to-night,” replied Botello, with his

most solemn emphasis, “the foot of Cortes should be
on the pyramid, and that, to-morrow, the Biscayan
should do homage to his rival.”

“Ay! and Kalidon told him all this?” said Cortes,
quickly, and, as Amador thought, angrily.

“He told only that which it was fitting the Biscayan
should know,” said Botello, significantly; “he
told him that which brought his forces into the
field to-day, so that they shall sleep more soundly for
their labours to-night; and yet he told him, no blow
should be struck in the field. He showed him many
such things; but he told him not, in manner as it was
written in the heaven and figured in the stone, that
to-night should his enemy creep upon him as he slept
blind and besotted, and while his best friends guided
the assailant to his bedside.”

“Ay, by my conscience!” cried Cortes, turning
with meaning looks to his companions; “this Kalidon
reads men's thoughts; for it was but an half hour
since, when I beheld these delicate warriors turning
their backs to the gust, that I vowed in my heart, I
would, to-night, give them a lesson for their folly.
What thinkest thou, son Sandoval? Will thy sunburnt,
lazy fellows of the Rich City march to Zempoala
by night?”

“Ay, by night or by day,—whenever they are bidden,”
said the sententious stripling, who, at this early
period of the campaign and of his life, was not only
the favourite of the general, but his second in fame.
As Don Amador listened to his rough voice, and surveyed
his bold and frank countenance adorned with
a curly beard and hair, both of amber hue, he bethought
him of the story of the heralds summoning
him to surrender his post into their hands, and receiving
an answer which they digested in the nets of
the Tlamémé, on the road to Tenochtitlan.

“And thou, Juan Velasquez de Leon,” said the general,
turning to a young and powerfully framed
cavalier, with a red beard and fierce countenance,
who, besides being clad in a heavier coat of mail than

any other present, was more bountifully bedecked with
golden chains, and who sat on a noble gray mare,—
“What sayest thou? Wilt thou play me a bout with
Narvaez, the captain of thy kinsman, the governor
Velasquez?”

“Ay, by my beard, I will!” replied De Leon, with
a thick ferocious voice, suiting the action to the word,
and wringing the rain-drops from the beard he had
invoked; “for, though I love the governor, I love not
his dog; and if this godly enchanter will assure me
the stars are favourable to the enterprise, I will be
the last man to say, our two hundred and fifty men
are no match for the thousand curs that bark at the
heels of the Biscayan.”

“It is written that, if we attack to-night, we shall
prevail,” said Botello.

“If I am permitted to say anything in a matter of
such importance,” said the neophyte, “I can aver,
that if the people of Narvaez design to revel away
this night, as they did the last, their commanders trifling
with jugglers and rope-dancers, their guards
sleeping on their posts, or straying away into the
suburbs, as we discovered them when we escaped at
dawn, it is an opinion which I formed on the spot,
that some ten or fifteen score of resolute men may
take them by surprise, and utterly vanquish them.”

“I respect the opinion of Don Amador,” said Cortes,
“as well as the counsels of Kalidon-Sadabath and
the stars, which have never yet told me a falsehood.
But how comes it, Botello? Hast thou been flying
since dawn? I cannot understand the necessity thou
wert under to lead my worthy friend Don Amador
so long a ramble; and moreover I perceive that,
though yesterday thou wert constrained to trudge
upon foot, thou art, to-day, master of a steed that
may almost compare with Motacila, the wag-tail, of
my son Sandoval.”

“I stole the beast from the captain of the watch,
Salvatierra, while he kept guard over us at some distance
in the fields,” said the magician, while all the

cavaliers laughed heartily at the explanation; “and
as for the long day's travel,—when I found myself
upon a good horse, I thought I could do no better
than give the alarm, and draw a party in pursuit,
and so entangle them among the woods, or wear them
out with fatigue, that they should make little opposition
when we came to attack their comrades at midnight.”

“A shrewd and most laudable device!” cried Cortes,
with unconcealed delight: “I have ever found
thee as good a soldier as astrologer; and if the fates
be as favourable to thee as I am myself, Botello, I can
promise thee many an acre of maize fields or gold
mountains, to recompense thy services.”

“It must be as it is written,” said Botello, gravely.
“Many a peril shall encompass me; but I know that,
in the worst, as it has been revealed to me, I shall
be rescued out of it on the wings of eagles!”

“Amen!” cried Cortes, “for the day of miracles
is not over. “If the señor De Leste,” he continued,
“claim to discharge his just anger for his imprisonment
on my brother Narvaez, I will invite him to
such a post of honour as shall be most likely to gratify
his longings. And after that, if my very noble
friend be inclined to exercise some of that skill in
naval warfare which he has doubtless acquired
among the knights of Rhodes, I will rejoice to entrust
to him the attack upon the fleet of Cavallero.”

“Señor,” said Amador, “though I burn to assist
you in the attack on Narvaez, I must first receive
the command of my knight Don Gabriel. I am not
so eager to draw sword upon the admiral; for know,
valiant Don Hernan, I have discovered in Cavallero
a kinsman of my mother. And señor,” continued
the neophyte, “I am now reminded of a message
which he charged me to deliver to your excellency,
wherein he begs to assure you, that, though fate has
arrayed him as your enemy, he cannot forget the
friendship of his former life.”

“Ay!” cried Cortes briskly, “does the excellent
admiral say me that?”

“He bade me also avow to you, that, though it became
him not, as an officer of Velasquez, to hold
any communications with you, except those of simple
form and courtesy, he should be well rejoiced
when heaven has removed the obstruction, and left
him at liberty to meet you with former friendship and
confidence.”

“By my conscience,” cried the general, turning
to his officers, and exchanging meaning and joyous
glances with them, “though these be tidings which
Kalidon hath not revealed, yet are they of such pleasant
import, that I shall ever thank Don Amador for
being the bearer of them. Eh, my masters!” he
exclaimed; “did I not tell you, when we left Tenochtitlan
in gloom, we should return to it in merriment?
that when we sank our rotten fleet among the
surges of Villa Rica, heaven should send us another
and a better? Let us move on, and spread these good
news through the camp.”—

The neophyte perceived, by the exultation of the
general, that he had been in a manner cajoled by Cavallero;
but he was not sorry to think his kinsman
should rather prefer to command his fleet as they ally
of Cortes than as the friend of Narvaez.