University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

Don Amador de Leste was interrupted in the
agreeable duty (the last to be performed in the little
caravel,) of inquiring into the health and condition
of his war-horse, Fogoso, by a summons, or, as it

was more courteously expressed, an invitation, to attend
the admiral on board his own vessel. Giving a
thousand charges to his attendants, all of which were
received with due deference and humility, he stepped
into the boat, which, in a few moments, he exchanged
for the decks of the Capitana,—not, however, without
some doubt as to the degree of loftiness he should
assume during the interview with his excellency, the
admiral, his kinsman. His pride had already twice,
or thrice, since his appearance among the islands of
the New World, been incensed by the arrogant assumption
of their petty dignitaries to inquire into, and
controul, the independence of his movements: and he
remembered with high displeasure, that the royal
adelantado of Cuba, the renowned Velasquez, a man
of whom, as he was pleased to say, he had never
heard so much as the name until he found himself
within his territories, had not only dared to disregard
the privileges of his birth and decorations, but
had well-nigh answered his ire and menaces, by giving
him to chains and captivity. Nor, when, at last,
the pious exertions of the good friars of Santiago had
allayed the growing storm, and appeased his own indignation,
by urging the necessity their governor was
under to examine into the character and objects of
all persons, who, by declining to visit the new El Dorado
under the authority of the commander, might
reasonably be suspected of a desire to join his rebellious
lieutenant,—not even then could the proud Amador
forget that, whatever might be the excuse, his
independence had been questioned, and might be
again, by any inflated official whom he should be so
unlucky as to meet. His doubt, however, in this case,
was immediately dispelled by the degree of state and
ceremony with which he was received on board the
Capitana, and conducted to his excellency; and the
last shadow of hesitation departed from his brow,
when he beheld the admiral prepared to welcome
him with such courtesy and deference as were only
accorded to the most noble and favoured.

“If I do not err,” said the admiral, with a bow of
great reverence, and a smile of prodigious suavity,
“I behold, in the señor Don Amador de Leste, a gentleman
of Valencia, whom I make free, as I shall be
proud, to welcome as my countryman and kinsman?”

“Señor Almirante,” replied Amador, with equal
amenity, “my mother was a Valencian, and of the
house of Cavallero. Wherefore, I take it for granted,
we are in some sort related; but in what degree, I
am not able to determine: nor do I think that a matter
very important to be questioned into, since, in these
savage corners of the earth, the farthest degree of
consanguinity should draw men together as firmly as
the closest.”

“You are right, señor cavalier and kinsman,” said
the admiral: “affinity of any degree should be a claim
to the intimacy and affection of brotherhood; and although
this is the first time I have enjoyed the felicity
to behold my right worthy and much honoured cousin,
I welcome him with good will to such hospitalities
as my poor bark and this barbarous clime can
afford; marvelling, however, amid all my satisfaction,
what strange fortune has driven him to exchange the
knightly combats of Christendom for the ignoble campaigns
of this wild hemisphere.”

“As to that, most noble and excellent cousin,” said
the cavalier, “I will not scruple to inform your excellency,
together with all other matters, wherein, as
my kinsman, you are entitled to question; previous
to which, however, I must demand of your goodness
to know how far your interrogatories are to bear the
stamp of office and authority, the satisfaction of my
mind on which point will materially affect the character
of my answers.”

“Surely,” said the admiral courteously, and seemingly
with great frankness, “I will only presume to
question you as a friend and relative, and, as such,
no farther than it may suit your pleasure to allow.
My office I will only use so far as it may enable me
to assist you in your objects, if, as I will make bold

to believe, you may need such assistance in this land
of Mexico.”

“I thank your excellency,” said Amador, now receiving
and pressing the hand of the commander with
much cordiality, “both for your offers of assistance,
which, if I may need it, I will freely accept; and for
your assurance you do not mean to trouble me with
your authority:—a mark of extreme civility and good
sense, which virtues, under your favour, I have not
found so common among your fellow-commanders in
these heathen lands, as I was led to expect.”

The admiral smiled pleasantly on his kinsman
while replying, “I must beg your allowance for the
presumption of my brothers in command, who, sooth
to say, have had so much dealing with the wild Indians
and rough reprobates of these regions as somewhat
to have forgot their manners, when treating
with gentlemen and nobles. My superior and governor,
the worthy and thrice-honoured Velasquez,
(whom God grant many and wiser counsellors!) is
rather hot of head and unreasonable of temper; and
has, doubtless, thrown some obstructions in the way
of your visit to this disturbed land. But you should
remember, that the junction of so brave a cavalier
as Don Amador de Leste with the mutinous bands
of the señor Cortes, is a thing to excite both dread
and opposition.”

“I remember,” said Amador, “that some such excuse
was made for him, and that my assurance that
my business had no more to do with that valiant rebel
than with his own crabbed excellency, was no more
believed than the assertion of any common hind: a
piece of incredulity I shall take great pleasure, at
some more convenient period, of removing, at my
sword's point, from his excellency's body.”

“I am grieved you should have cause to complain
of the governor,” said the señor Cavallero; “and verily
I myself cannot pretend to justify his rash and tyrannical
opposition, especially in the matter of yourself;
who, I take it for granted, come hither as the

kinsman of the knight Calavar, to search out and remove
that crack-brained cavalier from these scenes
of tumult and danger.”

“The knight Calavar,” said the young soldier
sternly, “like other men, has his eccentricities and
follies; but if God has smitten him with a sorer infirmity
than others, he has left him so much strength
of arm and resoluteness of heart, and withal has
given him friends of so unhesitating a devotion, that
it will always be wise to pronounce his name with
the respect which his great worth and valiant deeds
have proved to be his due.”

“Surely,” said the admiral, good-humouredly, “it
is my boast that I can claim, through yourself, to be
distantly related to this most renowned and unhappy
gentleman; and, while I would sharply rebuke a
stranger for mentioning him with discourtesy, I held
myself at liberty to speak of him with freedom to
yourself.”

“I beg your pardon then,” said Amador, “if I took
offence at your utterance of a word, which seemed
to me to savour more of the heartless ridicule with
which the world is disposed to remark a mental calamity,
than the respectful pity which, it is my opinion,
in such cases should be always accorded. Your
excellency did right to suppose my business in this
hemisphere was to seek out the knight Calavar; not,
however, as you have hinted, to remove him from
among the savages, (for I give you to understand, he
is ever capable of being the guide and director of his
own actions;) but to render him the dutiful service of
his kinsman and esquire, and to submit myself to his
will and government, whether it be to fight these
rogues of Mexico, or any other heathens whatever.”

“I give you praise for your fidelity and affection.”
said the señor Cavallero, “which, I think, will stand
the knight in good stead, if it be his pleasure to remain
longer in this wild country. But tell me, Don
Amador:—as a Cavallero of Valencia, I could not be
ignorant of the misfortune of our very renowned

cousin; yet was I never able to compass the cause
of his melancholy. I remember that when he fleshed
his boyish sword for the first time among the Moors
of the Alpujarras, he was accounted not only of
valour, but of discretion, far beyond his years. There
was no patrimony in all Granada so rich and enviable
as the lordship of Calavar; no nobleman of Spain was
thought to have fairer and loftier prospects than the
young Don Gines Gabriel de Calavar; none had
greater reason to laugh and be merry, for before the
beard had darkened on his lip, he had enjoyed the
reputation of a brave soldier; yet, no sooner came
he to man's estate, than, utterly disregarding the interests
of his house and the common impulses of youth,
he flung himself into the arms of the knights of Rhodes,
vowed himself to toil and sorrow, and has, ever since,
been remembered by those who knew him in his boyhood,
as the saddest and maddest of men.”

“So much I have heard, and so much I know, of
the good knight,” said Amador, with a sigh; “little
more can I add to the story, but that some calamity,
the nature of which I never dared to inquire, suddenly
wrought this change in him, even in the midst of his
youth, and led him to devote his life to the cause of
the faithful.”

“Thou hast heard it suggested,” said Cavallero,
significantly, “that, in the matter of the Alpujarras,
his heart was hotter, and his hand redder than became
a Christian knight, even when striking on the
hearth of the Infidel?”

“Señor cousin and admiral,” said Amador decidedly,
“in my soul, I believe you are uttering these
suggestions only from a kinsman's concern for the
honour and welfare of the party in question; and
therefore do I make bold to tell you, the man who,
in my hearing, asperses the knight Calavar, charging
his grief of mind to be the fruit of any criminal or
dishonourable deed, shall abide the issue of the slander
as ruefully as if it had been cast on the ashes of
my mother!”

“So shall he win his deservings,” said the commander.
“Nevertheless doth Calavar himself give
some cause for these foolish surmises, of which indiscreet
persons have occasionally delivered themselves;
for the evident misery of heart and distraction
of head, the austere and penitential self-denial of
his life, nay, the very ostentation of grief and contrition,
which is written in his deportment and blazoned
on his armour, and which has gained him, in these
lands, the appellation of the Penitent Knight, seem
almost to warrant the suspicion of an unquiet and remorseful
conscience, brooding over the memory of
an unabsolved crime. But I say this not so much to
justify, as, in part, to excuse those idle impertinents,
who are so free with their innuendoes. I have ever
pondered with wonder on the secret of the brave
knight's unrest; yet, I must confess to thee, I was
struck with no less astonishment, when, returning
from Nombre de Dios to Santiago, I heard that a
famous Knight Hospitaller, and he no other than Don
Gines Gabriel de Calavar, had arrived among the
islands, frenzied with the opportunity of slaying pagans
at his pleasure, and had already followed on the
path of Cortes to Mexico. It gave me great pain,
and caused me no little marvel, to find he had come
and vanished with so little of the retinue of his rank,
and of the attendance necessary to one in his condition,
that two or three ignorant grooms were his only
attendants.”

“I have no doubt,” said Amador, “I can allay
your wonder as to these matters. Your excellency
need not be told that the banner of the Turk now
floats over the broken ramparts of Rhodes, and over
the corses of those noble knights of San Juan, who
defended them for more than two hundred years, and
at last perished among their ruins. This is a catastrophe
that has pealed over all Christendom like the
roar of a funeral bell, and its sound has even pierced
to these lands of twilight. No knight among all that
band of warriors and martyrs, as I am myself a witness,

did more brave and heroical actions throughout
the black and bloody siege, than my lord and kinsman,
Calavar. But the good and ever-gracious Saint,
the patron of this most ancient and chivalric brotherhood,
saved him, with a few other knights, out of the
jaws of destruction, and restored him again to his
own country. Rhodes was fallen; there was no
longer a home for the destitute knights; they wandered
over Europe, whithersoever their destinies listed,
but particularly wheresoever there was an infidel to
be slain. Our monarch of Spain contemplated a crusade
among the Moors of Barbary, the descendants
of that accursed—(why should I not say wretched?
for they are exiles;)—that wretched race who had
once o'ermastered our own beloved land; the knight
Calavar entered into this project with alacrity, and
set himself to such preparations as should win him
good vengeance for the blood of his brothers lost at
Rhodes. I did myself, in obedience to his will, betake
me to the business of seeing what honest Christians
might be prevailed on to fight under his banner; and
while thus engaged, at a distance from my beloved
lord, with, perhaps, as I should confess with shame,
less energy and more sloth than were becoming in his
follower, I suffered certain worldly allurements to
step between me and my duty, and, for a time, almost
forgot my renowned and unhappy kinsman. Now,
señor,” continued the youth, with some little hesitation,
and a deep sigh, “it is not necessary I should
trouble you with any very particular account of my
forgetfulness and stupidity: it was soon known that
the enthusiasm of our king was somewhat abated
touching the matter of the African crusade,—perhaps
swallowed up in the interest wherewith he regarded
the new world which God and the great Colon had
given him; the enthusiasm of his subjects diminished
in like manner: there was no more talk of Africa.
This, señor, may perhaps in a measure excuse my
own lethargy; but you may be assured I awoke out
of it with shame and mortification, when I discovered
that the good knight, left to himself, and deprived
of that excitement of combat, or the hope of combat,
so necessary to the well-being of his mind, had suddenly
(doubtless, in one of those paroxysms of eccentricity,—or
delirium, as I may call it to you,) departed
from the land, and was now cleaving the
surges that divided us from the new hemisphere.
There was nothing left for me but to follow him in
the first ship that sailed on the same adventure. This
I have done: I have tracked my leader from Palos
to Cuba; from Cuba to this barren coast; and now,
with your good leave and aidance, I will take the
last step of the pursuit, and render myself up to his
authority in the barbaric city, Tenochtitlan.”

“I respect your motive, and praise your devotion,
most worthy cousin,” said the admiral with much
kindness; “and yet you must forgive me, if I dare
to express to you some degree of pity. My long acquaintance
with these countries, both of isle and
main, has well instructed me what you have to expect
among them; and I can truly conceive what sacrifices
you have made for the good knight's sake. In
any case, I beg leave to apprise you, you can command
all my services, either to persist in seeking him,
or to return to Spain. My advice is, that you leave
this place forthwith, in a ship which I am to-morrow
to despatch to Andalusia; return to your native land;
betake yourself to those allurements, and that lethargy,
which I can well believe may bring you happiness;
commend yourself to your honourable lady-love,
and think no more of the wild Calavar. Here,
if you lose not life, before you have looked on your
kinsman, as there is much fear, you must resolve to
pass your days in such suffering and misery, and
withal in ignoble warfare with naked savages, supported
by such mean and desperate companions, as, I
am sure, you were never born to.”

“What you counsel me,” said Amador coolly, “is
doubtless both wisdom and friendship; nevertheless,
if your excellency will be good enough to reconsider

your advice, you will perceive it involves such selfishness,
meanness, and dishonour, as cannot be listened
to with any propriety by a kinsman of the knight
of Calavar. I do not say I come hither to condescend
to this ignoble warfare,—though if it be worthy
my good knight, I shall have no reason to scorn it.
I bear with me, to my kinsman, the despatch of his
most eminent highness, the Grand Master of the
most illustrious order of San Juan, wherein, although
it be recommended to him, if such warfare seem to
him honourable and advantageous to the cause of
Christ, to strike fast and well, it is, if such strife be
otherwise, strongly urged on him to return without
delay to Europe, and to the Isle of Malta; which, it
is announced, our monarch of Spain will speedily
give to the good knights. It is therefore,” continued
the cavalier, “from the nature of things and of mine
own will, clearly impossible I should follow your advice;
in default of which, I must beg such other
counsel and assistance of your excellency as your
excellency may think needful to bestow; only premising,
that as I have many a weary league of sand
and mountain to compass, the sooner you benefit me
with these good things the better.”

“Your journey will be neither so long nor so wearisome
as you imagine,” said Cavallero: “but, I fear
me, will present more obstructions than you may be
prepared to encounter. I take it for granted, the
governor Velasquez has furnished you with no commands
to his general Don Panfilo de Narvaez, since
he gave you none to myself.”

“This is even the fact,” said Amador; “I entered
the caravel which brought me here, as I thought, in
defiance of his authority, and not without apprehensions
of being obliged to cut off the ears of some
dozen or two of his rogues, who might be ordered to
detain me. Nevertheless, I left the island without a
contest, and equally without aidance of any kind from
this discourteous ruler.”

“I must give thee some counsel, then,” said the

admiral, “for I apprehend the governor did, very
perfidiously as I esteem it, when he ceased his
opposition, rest much hope on that of his general.
Thou art acquainted with the character of
Narvaez?”

“By my faith, I am so ignorant of all matters appertaining
to these climates, that, saving thine own, and
the knight Calavar's, and one or two others which I
acquired this morning, I am familiar only with those of
two other persons,—to wit,—of Velasquez, whom I
consider a very scurvy and ill-bred personage, and
of Cortes, a man whom I hold in much esteem, ever
since I heard he burned his fleet to keep his followers
from running away, and made prisoner of the great
Mexican emperor in his own capital. In addition to
this, I know the aforesaid governor doth very hotly
hate, and hath disgraced with the titles of rebel and
outlaw, this same respectable and courageous Cortes;
but for what reason; as I have been kept in somewhat
too great a passion to inquire, I am yet altogether
ignorant.”

“For one who may soon share an important part
in the events of this region, I think thou showest a
most princely indifference to them,” said the admiral,
smiling. “I will not say the safety, but the facility,
with which thou mayest traverse these lands, will be
greatly increased by knowing some little of their
history; and that knowledge I will hasten to impart to
thee, and with what brevity I can. If I should be led
to speak with more freedom of certain persons than
may seem fitting in an inferior and a colleague, I
must beseech thee to remember I am doing so to a
kinsman, and for his especial information and good.
Know then, señor Don Amador, the person whom it
pleased our viceroy, the son of Colon, to set over us,
and whom it has since pleased his most devout majesty,
the emperor, to confirm in the government of
Cuba, and even to that to add the further dignity of
ruler of the kings of Mexico, is, as I hinted to thee
before, afflicted with so irascible a temper and so

jealous a fancy, that, were I not restrained by the
office I hold under him, I should say he was, at the
least, as mad as any other man in his dominion. The
desire of immortalizing himself by some great exploit
would be commendable in him, were it not accompanied
by the ambition to achieve it by the hands of
another. Ever since the discovery of this fair empire
of Montezuma by the señor Cordova, he has thirsted
for the glory of subduing it; and has taken all the
steps necessary to such a purpose, except the single
one of attempting it in person;—an omission not in
itself important, since there are an hundred other
cavaliers more capable of the task, only that, besides
the other munitions with which he furnishes his lieutenant,
he follows him ever with so plentiful a store
of distrust, that it is utterly impossible his officer
should have a chance to immortalize him. After
much seeking of a man whose ambition should extend
no further than to the glory of winning a crown for
the purpose of seeing his excellency wear it, he fixed
upon the worthy hidalgo, Hernan Cortes, a gentleman
of Medellin in Estremadura, and despatched him on
the business of conquest. Now, no sooner was his
general gone, than this jealous imagination, whereof
I spake, instantly presented to his mind the image of
Cortes as a conqueror, suddenly laying claim, before
the emperor and the world, to the sole merit of the
conquest; a spectacle so infinitely intolerable, that
without delay he set himself at work to hinder Cortes
from making any conquest at all.”

“Surely,” said Amador, “this governor Velasquez
is a fool, as well as a knave!”

“Heaven have him in keeping! You should mention
him with respect: but as you are speaking in the
confidence of blood-relationship, I cannot take notice
of your sarcasm,” said the admiral. “The señor
Cortes, however,” continued Cavallero, “was by no
means disposed to second the disloyal frenzy of the
governor: (disloyal I call it, since it threatened to
deprive his majesty, the emperor Charles, of the opportunity

of adding a new empire to his diadem.) On
the other hand, Cortes was fully determined to do his
duty, and thought the governor could do nothing
better than to follow his example. But in the end,
this same Cortes, though of as meek a temper as is
desirable in the commander of an army, became
greatly incensed at the sottish and grievous distrust
of his governor; and calling his army together, and
representing to them the foolish predicament in which
his excellency had placed them, he threw down his
truncheon with contempt, and told them that as Velasquez
had left them without a leader, the wisest
thing that remained for them was to find another as
soon as possible: as for himself, he disdained to hold
his commission longer under such a commander.”

“By heaven, a most proper-spirited and gallant
gentleman!” cried Amador. “I honour him for the
act, but chiefly for the contempt it argued of this
jackfeather ruler.”

“I must beg of your favour,” said the admiral,
gravely, “to remember that his excellency is my
chief and commander; though, in justice, I think you
have some reason to censure him.—What remained
for the army of Cortes, now no longer having a general?
They were loath to leave the fair empire that
appeared almost in their grasp, and enraged at the
governor, who seemed determined to rob them of it.
There was only one way to secure the conquest for
their royal master: they absolved themselves of their
allegiance to the governor, swore themselves the soldiers
and subjects of the emperor alone, and erecting
themselves into a colony, forthwith elected Cortes
their governor and commander-in-chief; and despatched
advice of the same to Don Carlos, with a
petition for permission to pursue and conclude the
conquest of Tenochtitlan in his name.”

“A very loyal, defensible, and, indeed, praiseworthy
action,” said Don Amador, with emphasis; “and I
marvel your jealous governor did not stab himself

forthwith, out of pure chagrin, to be so sharply and
justly outwitted.”

“Instead of that,” said the admiral, “boiling with
vexation and rage, and devoting Cortes to the fiend
who had first suggested him as a proper lieutenant,
his excellency equipped a second army, more than
twice as strong as that he had ordered Cortes to
raise; and this, one would have thought, he would
have commanded in person. But the old whim of
conquering by lieutenants, and becoming famous by
proxy, still beset the brain of his wisdom. He gave
the command of an army of more than a thousand
men to the señor Panfilo de Narvaez, a Biscayan,
of whom the best I can say is, that he swore eternal
fidelity to Velasquez,—resolving privately in his own
mind that, as soon as he had subdued Cortes, he
would follow his example, and throw off the authority
of his distrustful commander.”

“I should call this treachery,” said Amador, “but
that I think the absurdity of the chief a full excuse
for the defection of the follower.”

“The wisdom of the proceeding is now made manifest,”
continued the admiral. “It is scarce a month
since it was my misfortune, as commander of the
naval division of this expedition, to land the forces of
Narvaez on this shore. Here I learned with much
admiration, that Cortes, notwithstanding the meagerness
of his army, had, absolutely, after certain bloody
combats with savages on the wayside, marched into
the great city, taken possession of the body of the
barbarous emperor, and, through him, virtually, of all
the lands which acknowledged his sway; and you
may understand how much, as a true and reasonable
subject of our Catholic monarch, I was afflicted to
learn, in addition, that the sending of the new force
by Velasquez, only served the purpose of snatching
the conquest out of our hands. For Cortes, under a
delusion which may be pardoned him, on account of
its loyalty, regarding himself, in obedience to the
command of his followers, as the only true representative

and general of our king, and ourselves, by
consequence, as traitors and rebels to his majesty, did
forthwith resolve to drive us from the land; to do
which, it was needful he should withdraw his forces
from Tenochtitlan; and therefore, Tenochtitlan is
lost.”

“Thou sayest, the señor Cortes hath an army not
half so powerful as the Biscayan's?”

“Nay, 'tis much short of five hundred men, and
weakened by a year's campaign, and still further diminished
by the necessity of maintaining a garrison
in his port of Vera Cruz, which he doth humorously
denominate the Rich City, and leaving another of
more than a hundred men, with one of his best captains,
in the goodly city, out of a hope, which I myself
reckon both vain and foolish, still to retain possession
of it.”

“And with this shattered and pitiful handful, which
I think cannot exceed three hundred men,” said Amador,
“the brave Cortes is resolute to resist the Biscayan,
and his thousand fresh combatants?”

“It is even so,” replied Cavallero.

“I give him the praise of a most dauntless and heroic
leader,” cried Amador; “and I am eager to
proffer him the hand of friendship.”

“Not only resolute to resist,” said the admiral,
“but, from the most undeniable tokens, impatient to
attack; as, indeed, are all his people. As an evidence
of which, I may tell thee, that Narvaez having
quartered his host at an Indian city called Zempoala,
within a few leagues of this aforesaid stockade and
Rich City of the True Cross, he straightway despatched
certain officers, military, civil, and religious,
to demand the surrender of the same at the hands of
the very young and very simple-minded señor, Don
Gonzalo de Sandoval, its commandante. What answer,
thinkest thou, was made by this foolish captain,
so many leagues separated from his commander, and
so far from all assistance? Faith, he flings me the
envoys into certain bags of network, as one would

live quails, and tossing them upon the backs of lusty
savages, in lieu of asses, despatched them forthwith
over the mountains to his general. And this is the
only answer my colleague and most excellent friend,
the general Narvaez, ever received to his summons
for the surrender of the Rich City of the True Cross.”

“A spirited and ever-to-be-commended youth, this
same bold Sandoval,” said Amador earnestly; “and,
I begin to bethink me, I shall not be loath to remain
for a time in the company of a leader, who hath such
worthy spirits for his companions. But tell me, se
ñor cavalier and cousin, hath Cortes yet struck a
blow for his honour and his right?”

“By our Lady, no,” said the admiral: “and yet,
upon reflection,” continued he, “I must confess, that
though he has not yet drawn a Christian sabre on the
Biscayan, he has done him much hurt with a certain
weapon of gold, the use of which he learned at Mexico,
and whose blows, by the operation of a kind of
magic, have the virtue to paralyze the wrath, without
spilling the blood, of an adversary.”

“This is a weapon of the devil!” said the young
cavalier indignantly, “which I marvel much should
be used by so worthy a soldier. Nevertheless, as it
does not shed blood, the use of it may be justifiable
in a contest between brothers and countrymen;
wherein humanity and mercy are always more Christian
qualities than the rage and bloodthirstiness of
another warfare. But notwithstanding all this, if
such enchanted arms (if such indeed exist, as I cannot
believe,) be in vogue among the followers of
Cortes, I swear to God and Saint John, I will eschew
them as I would the gifts of the fiend; and, if
compelled by the command of my good knight, to
fight in their company, it shall be with such sword
and spear as I can use with a free conscience, and
an honest arm.”

“I commend your honourable resolution,” said the
admiral, amused with the literal straightforwardness
of his kinsman, but without thinking fit to undeceive

him; “but how long the cavalier Cortes will employ
so bloodless a rapier, is more than I can determine.
He now lies within a few leagues of my colleague,
the Biscayan; and although apparently more ripe for
negotiation than combat, I shall be much mistaken if
he do not, at some convenient season, so fling his
crew of desperadoes at the head of Narvaez, as shall
make his excellency stare. Indeed there is now little
hope of pacification; for Narvaez has very grievously
insulted Cortes, by proclaiming him a rebel and an
outlaw, and setting a price on his head; and such is
his hotheadedness, that, it was but yesterday, he compelled
me to ship to Cuba the king's oidor, Vasques,
whom he had arrested for daring to speak to him of
amicable treaty. I look daily for intelligence of a
battle.”

“I vow to heaven!” said Amador, his eyes sparkling
with animation, “I vow to heaven! I have no
desire to mingle in a civil fray of any kind; but if
these mad fellows must be e'en at it, I see no reason
why I should not stand hard by, to be a witness of
their bravery. Wherefore most excellent cousin, I
must entreat of your favour to despatch me without
delay, with such guides, or instructions, as will enable
me to reach the Señor Cortes before the combat
begins.”

“If it would suit thee as well to survey this spectacle
from the camp of Narvaez,” said Cavallero, “I
could gratify thee without any difficulty. But I must
apprise thee, that to reach Cortes, it will be necessary
to pass the lines of Narvaez; and what obstructions
he may choose to throw in thy way is more
than I can very satisfactorily determine, though I
may counsel thee how best to overcome them.”

“Please heaven,” said Amador proudly, “he shall
make me no opposition which he shall not answer to
the cost of his body. For I am here, a free hidalgo
of Spain, knowing no authority but the king's will
and mine own; a neophyte (and, as I may add, a
knight by right, though unsworn,) of the illustrious

order of San Juan, bearing the instructions of his
most eminent highness, the Grand Master, to a vowed
knight, and therefore liable to the command of no
other man, save only, as before excepted, the king;
and he who thinks to hinder me in my passage, besides
provoking the wrath of the aforesaid privileged
order, must, as I said before, do it under the peril of
mine own sword.”

“It would not become me to question your privileges,
or the danger with which they might be invaded,”
said the admiral, “nor will I repeat to you
in how little regard these matters may be had by a
man who has presumed to arrest and imprison the
representative of his majesty himself, and who, surrounded
by an army, and separated from the sway
of the laws, is beyond the present responsibility of
any government but that of his own conscience. I
can only remind you that, as an emissary of the holy
order, you are doubly bound to avoid a quarrel with
a Christian and countryman; especially when, as
will presently be your case, you are in the lands of
the infidel. I must beg to remind you, too, that the
Biscayan, holding, as he believes, the authority of
the king, and compelled to act as may seem to him
necessary for the preservation of the king's interest,
should be respected accordingly; and his humours,
as well as his rightful commands, borne without anger
or opposition.”

“May his majesty live a thousand years!” said
the cavalier. “It is no part of my principle to oppose
his pleasure; wherefore, if contesting the authority
of this Biscayan general be such disloyalty,
I will refrain from it; that is, as long as I can. But
nevertheless, I will protest against any authority that
may hinder my present journey.”

“Moderation, and the exercise of patience,” said
Cavallero, “will doubtless secure you from restraint
and insult. It is quite necessary you report the
object of your travel to the commander Narvaez;
and even to desire his permission (a courtesy that

has in it nothing of degradation) to continue your
journey.”

“Doubtless,” said Amador, sarcastically, “you
will tell me, as did the señor Gomez, the captain of
the caravel, that this submission of myself to his commands
will be nothing more than the rendering of a
customary compliment to his dignity. If there be
any way by which I may pass by the camp of Narvaez,
I shall be much bound to your excellency to
inform me of it; and I will pursue it, be it ever so
rough and long, with much more satisfaction than I
can ever make my entreaties to him.”

“There is no other way,” said the admiral. “The
Indian city, Zempoala, where Narvaez has established
his head-quarters, lies immediately on the path to
the Villa Rica; and the scouts of Narvaez, occupying
all the intermediate ground, render it impossible
you should pass him without observation, or them
without their leader's commands. I am now about
to despatch to Narvaez certain reinforcements, in
whose company I recommend you to travel, and
with whom I will send such representations to the
general as, I think, will secure you his instant permission
and, doubtless, aid, to join your kinsman, the
good knight, without delay. Only let me entreat of
you, as your true friend and relation, not wantonly,
by any overbearing pride, to exasperate the peevish
temper of my colleague.”

“I will take your advice,” said the cavalier, complacently,
“and treat the Biscayan with as much respect
as he may seem to deserve. Only, as it may
be a long day's journey to this Zempoala, I must entreat
your excellency to give orders for the instant
debarkation of my horses and attendants, and permit
me to follow them as soon as possible.”

“This shall be instantly done,” said the admiral.
“In the meanwhile, I must beg to entertain you with
the sight of one of those personages who will be your
companions on the journey.”