University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.

The scene of death in which they were engaged,
had so employed the thoughts of the cavaliers, that
they were, for a time, insensible to many tumultuous
noises in the city, which, beginning at the moment
when the struggles and outcries of Villafana
were fiercest and loudest, increased every instant,
until all was uproar.

At first, as they rushed in disorder to the doors,
they thought the din was caused by a renewal of
the storm, or rather the sudden outbursting of a
tornado; which, overwhelming the houses of some
of the poorer citizens, and burying them among the
ruins, might account for the screams and yells, that
were mingled with other noises. But they soon
exchanged this fear for one more stirring, when, as
they rushed into the air, they heard an alarum ringing
from the chapel-bell on the top of the pyramid,
drums beating to arms, arquebuses firing in several
different quarters, and were made sensible that a
conflict was raging in the town.

“Dios!” cried one; “the conspirators are upon
us! Let us back to the hall and defend ourselves!”

“My life upon it,” said Gaspar, “the conspirators
will not stir till Villafana opens his lips to them.—
Heaven rest his soul!—Hark! these are the yells
of Indians.”

“On, friends!” exclaimed Cortes, perceiving the
garden full of soldiers, rushing from various parts

of the palace, as if to seek the fray. “This is Tlascalan
work—a knavery of Xicotencal. Hah! hark!
see! 'tis an assault upon the prison! Ho, Castilians!
ho, Christians! cavaliers and soldiers, to arms!
haste, to arms!”

While the soldiers, collecting together at the
well-known voice of the Captain-General, began to
rush with him towards the prison, over which, besides
hearing the shouting of the watchmen at the
doors, they beheld three blazing arrows shot up
into the air, their alarm was directed to another
quarter, by a violent cannonade from the squadron,
moored yet at the entrance of the little river; and
looking that way, they perceived to their astonishment
and fear, no less than four of the brigantines
suddenly enveloped in flames.

“Guzman and Quinones!” cried Cortes, with instant
determination, “to the prison, with what force
ye can pick up on the way. Shoot all fugitives, as
well as all assailants. The rest follow me to the
river; for I would mine arms should be burned,
rather than my vessels.”

By this time, all the Spaniards who were capable
of bearing arms, were in the open air, and following
not less the shouts of Cortes than the crash of
the falconets, ran hastily towards the fleet, which,
it was now evident, was furiously beset by multitudes
of Indians in canoes. The flash of the explosions
and the flames bursting ruddily out from sails
and cordage, revealed them clustering with impetuosity
around the devoted vessels, whose crews, it
was equally apparent, were making a gallant resistance.
In this light, the houses bordering upon
the water were seen covered with citizens, looking
on with a tranquillity, which showed that their
share in the unexpected hostilities, if indeed they
had any, was entirely passive. A more agreeable
sight was disclosed to Cortes, as he ran onwards,
in the appearance of many thousand Tlascalans,

rushing down the narrow meadows which bordered
the canal, with such alacrity of speed and such furious
cries of `Tlascala!' and `Castilla!' as convinced
him of their fidelity and affection.

“It is a Mexican device, after all,” he muttered;
“a plan of the ambassadors. Well done for
thee, Villafana!—Bold varlets, these! What! down
with your demi-culverins and sakers, Orozca!
Where is my good cannonier, Juan Catalan? We
will aid the vessels from the shore.”

The mariners, however hotly engaged, replied to
the cries of their friends with shouts of courage;
and redoubling their exertions, they succeeded not
only in repelling the assailants, whose obvious aim
was to fire the whole fleet, from those ships not
yet ignited, but even in extinguishing the flames in
the less fortunate four. In this, they were doubtless
materially assisted by the condition of the
planks and timbers, which being of green wood,
the flames would perhaps have confined their
ravages to the more combustible sails and cordage,
and soon expired for want of fuel. They weighed
anchor also, and taking advantage of the gusts
which still blew over the lake, six of the largest
and strongest set sail, and boldly plunged among
the canoes, overturning and sinking many, while
the others, receiving assistance from the shore, betook
themselves to the little harbour, dragging
with them their disabled consorts.

In this manner, it soon became evident that the
danger in this quarter was over; and Cortes, directing
that the position of the brigantines should
be strengthened by a temporary battery at the
mouth of the river, returned to inspect the condition
of the city in the neighbourhood of the palace.

The sounds of contention were over; and one
passing through the garden, and listening to the
moaning of the winds through the trees, could
searce have believed that half an hour before it had

been a scene of such warlike bustle. The bell rang
no longer, the drums, trumpets, and arquebuses
were silent, and the sentinels paced to and fro at their
stations, as if nothing unusual had happened. The
only sounds indeed that now vexed the calm of the
night, were the occasional explosion of a falconet
from some brigantine, afar among the shadows of
the lake, still pursuing the retreating canoes. The
attack was perhaps unpremeditated; or, perhaps,
its only object was to taunt and defy. At all events,
it was now over; and in less than an hour from
the time of the first alarm, the cry of all's-well could
be heard through the different quarters of the
city.

Before this satisfactory conclusion of an evening
so eventful, the Captain-General was doomed to
have his equanimity put to the proof by a new
trial. A double line of guards surrounded the
prison, and Guzman, Quinones, and Gaspar Olea
were among them, the last wringing his hands, and
bewailing; but the prison-door was open, a thin
smoke issued from it, and he could see, at a glance,
that the only persons in the apartment were a few
soldiers, dashing water over its partly consumed
floor. Under the very threshold lay the bodies of
two soldiers, fearfully mangled; another was
writhing, gasping, and dying in the arms of his
comrades; and a fourth, severely wounded, was
marrating to Quinones the particulars of an assault,
made, as he averred, by ten thousand devils, or
Mexicans, who sprang suddenly out of the earth,
killed or dispersed the whole guard, carried off the
prisoner, or burned him, he knew not which, (for
he lay upon the ground, counterfeiting death,) and
then, setting fire to the building, vanished quite as
suddenly as they came.

“Were these men Mexicans or Tlascalans?”
demanded Cortes, without betraying any sign of
feeling.

The soldier started at the sound of his leader's
voice, and hastily replied,

“In good faith, señor, I know not, for I was
somewhat overcome with fear.”

“And with wine, sirrah!” exclaimed the General.
“But it matters not—thou art too stupid to answer
now. Have this fellow into the den, Quinones, and
let him be brought to me to-morrow.—Señor Don
Francisco, we will walk to the palace.

He put his arm into Guzman's, and dragging
him to a little distance, where no beam of torch
or cresset illuminated his visage, exclaimed, eagerly,

“Tell me the truth, Francisco:—has he perished
by fire in the prison, or has he escaped me?”

“Señor,” replied Guzman, “his star, or his devil,
has helped him.”

“Why then the fiends seize thee, and all false
friends, who plague me!” cried Cortes, giving way
to passion. “Is it thus I am to be cheated?”

“Señor,” said Guzman, moderately, but without
fear; “I have mine own cause of distress, for my
hand is horribly mangled, and I have heard that
the bite of a dying man causes mortification. So,
with this pain of body and mind, I may not speak
good counsel or good defence.—When I reached
the prison, it was empty and on fire. Had not
your excellency interfered with the execution this
day—”

“Ay, there again!” muttered the Captain-General;
“mine own hand is made to befool me; it
pulls out of the pit faster than my foot tramples
in. Hark thee, Guzman, dost thou not think
this young man is protected by some special
providence?”

“I, señor?”

“Why, look you, what could have carried him
through the tribes of the West, to the South Sea,
and back again?—(a device of thy scheming, too!)
And, didst thou not see, I was about to run him

through, in the very act of mutinous resistance,
when a brute and insensate dog seized my sword-blade
in his mouth? And now, for the third time,
what but his angel could have brought to his prison-door
yonder infidels of Mexico—his only friends,
I think?”

“Let your excellency question if this circumstance
will not, without removing him from punishment,
give a still stronger excuse for it? The scribe
visited him in the dungeon; a paction with the
enemy, sealed by the act of flight with them to their
stronghold, has confirmed him thrice over a
traitor.”

“Ay, by heaven! it is true!” said Cortes, smiting
his hands together; “and, by and by, I will take
him out of his hiding-place, and crown the day of
victory with a double triumph!”

“And who can affirm,” quoth Don Francisco,
“that the misbelievers have not taken him for a
sacrifice? It is said, the coronation of Guatimozin
is deferred only until he can provide a Castilian
victim to do honour to the ceremony. By my faith,
señor, there is a pleasant twitch in my cheek,—ay,
in the scar of the rapier-wound—at the very thought
of this retribution!”

“Now, by heaven,” said Cortes, with an altered
voice, “villain as he is, I cannot rejoice that such
a dismal fate should befall him. Death, indeed, but
not a death of horror! Dost thou think this, then,
can be his doom? Alas, poor youth! had he but
some one to lament him or to avenge, I were better
satisfied with what I have done. I swear to thee,
Francisco, we are e'en as base knaves as himself;
for we have employed our strength—our cunning
and our strength—against a creature that is utterly
friendless. Alas, I say; for I remember me of the
days of old; and surely I loved him once as my
own soul.”

This outbreaking of feeling did not at all surprise

Guzman, who had been familiar from the beginning
with the ebbings and flowings of Don Hernan's
hate, and who had several times seen him, when
the destiny of Juan seemed already closed, affected
so much that he shed tears, as he did at the present
moment. But Guzman was acquainted with a
spell which never failed to banish all compunction
from the General's breast; and he did not scruple
to employ it now.

“It is enough!” muttered Cortes, through his
clenched teeth. “Heaven and my conscience acquit
me, and I will think of it no more.”

With these words, he seemed to discharge from
his mind all thoughts of the youth so deeply detested,
and addressing himself to the task of inspecting
in person the condition of all assailable points in
the city, betook himself at last, and at the day-dawn,
to his repose.