University of Virginia Library

26. CHAPTER XXVI.

On the following morning, it was known to all the
garrison, that they were, at night, to depart from
Tenochtitlan. The joy, however, that might have
followed the announcement, was brief; for, at the
same moment that the exhausted Christians were
roused from slumber and bidden to prepare, the warders
sent down word from the turrets, that their enemies
were again approaching. The shrewdest of all
could perceive no other mode of retreat than by cutting
their way through the besiegers; and it required
but little consideration in the dullest, to disclose the
manifold dangers of such an expedient. They manned
the walls and the court-yard, therefore, with but

little alacrity, and awaited the Mexicans in sullen
despair.

But Don Hernan, quick to perceive, and resolute
to employ the subtle devices of another, had not forgotten
the words of Botello, when that worthy counselled
him to make such use of Montezuma and his
children, as had been made of the golden apples, by
Hippomenes, when contending in the race with the
daughter of Schœneus.

The Mexicans advanced, as usual, with whistling
and shouts, filling the square with uproar; and, as
usual, the cannoniers stood to their pieces, and the
Tlascalans to their spears; but before a dart had
been yet discharged, those who looked down from
the battlements, beheld a funeral procession issue
from the court-yard.

A bier, constructed rudely of the handles of partisans,
but its rudeness in a measure concealed by the
rich robes of state flung over it, was borne on the
shoulders of six native nobles, all of them of high
degree in Tenochtitlan. It supported the body of the
emperor, which was covered only by the tilmatli,
leaving the countenance exposed to view. The royal
sandals were on his feet, and the copilli, with the
three sceptres, lay upon his breast. The pagan priest
in his sable garment, his face covered by the cowl,
and his head bending so low, that his hideous locks
swept the earth, stepped upon the square, chanting
a low and mournful requiem; and the bearers, stalking
slowly and sorrowfully under their burden, followed
after.

The murmurs were hushed in the palace; and the
square, so lately filled with the savage shouts of the
enemy, became suddenly as silent as the grave. The
monotonous accents of the priest were alone heard,
conveying to the Mexicans, in the hymn that ushered
a spirit into the presence of the deities, the knowledge
of the death of their king.

For awhile, the barbarians stood in stupid awe;
but, at last, as the train approached them, and they

perceived with their own eyes the swarthy features
of their monarch fixed in death, they uttered a cry
of grief, low indeed, and rather a moan than a lament,
but which, being caught and continued by the
voices of many thousand men, was heard in the remotest
parts of the city. They parted before the
corse of one, to whom, before the days of his degradation,
they had been accustomed to look as to an
incarnate divinity. They fell upon their knees, and
bowed their faces to the earth, as he was carried
through them; and again the Spaniards beheld the
impressive spectacle, of a great multitude prostrate
in the dust, as if in the act of adoration.

When the bearers and the body were alike concealed
from their view, the Mexicans rose, and turning
towards the palace, brandished their weapons
with fierce gestures, and many exclamations of hatred,
against the destroyers of their king. For a
moment, Cortes doubted if his expedient had not
served rather to increase, than to divert, the fury of
his opponents; and he beckoned from his stand on the
terrace, to the cannoniers, to prepare their matches.
But an instant after, he revoked the command: the
Mexicans were retiring; a great army was suddenly
converted into a funeral train, and thus they departed
from the square, after the body of their ruler, without
striking a blow at the invader.

This circumstance reassured the garrison; and
the prospect of speedy release from intolerable suffering
and from destruction, wrought such a change
over all, that visages, emaciated by famine, and haggard
from despair, were lit up with smiles; and songs
and laughter re-echoed through chambers, which,
but the night before, had resounded with prayers,
groans, and curses. Nothing was now thought of
but the bread and fruits of Tlascala, the mines
and fandangos of Cuba; and many a sedate and sullen
veteran clapped his hands with a sudden joy, as
he bethought him of the urchins sporting in the limpid
Estero, or climbing the palm that grew at his

cabin door. Escape from the miseries which had
environed them, and the privilege to discourse for
life of the marvels of Tenochtitlan,—of the beauty
of its valleys, the magnificence of its cities, the wealth
of its rulers, the ferocious valour of its citizens,—to
wondering listeners, were the only offsets thought of
to the many labours, sufferings, and risks of the campaign.
The little property amassed by each—the
share of Montezuma's presents, and the spoils stripped
from the dead, were stored, along with such trifles
as might add the interest of locality to legends of
battle, in the sacks of the soldiers. All made their
preparations, and all made them in hope.

The only melancholy men in the palace, that day,
were Cortes and Don Amador de Leste. The latter
remembered his knight, falling ingloriously and alone
on the causeway; and the general pondered over the
griefs of defeated ambition.

But whatever were the pangs of Don Hernan, he
forgot not the duties of a general. Besides other
precautions, he caused his carpenters to construct a
portable bridge of sufficient strength to support the
weight of his heaviest artillery, and yet, not so ponderous
but that it might be carried on the shoulders
of some half a hundred strong men. This he provided,
fearing lest the barbarians had destroyed the
bridges not only of the great dike of Iztapalapan,
but of that of Tacuba, on which it was his determination
to attempt his flight, and which, running westward
from the island, was, as has been intimated,
but two miles in length.

In accordance with the advice of the necromancer,
the hour of departing was put off until midnight,
—a period of time which had the double advantage
of being recommended by Botello, and of ensuring
the least molestation. Each individual, therefore,
made his preparations, and looked forward to that
hour.

The melancholy that oppressed the spirits of the
neophyte, was so great, that he betrayed little curiosity

either to acquaint himself with the events which
had occurred during his captivity, or even to inquire
further into the mysterious knowledge and acts of
the page. But, however indisposed to conversation,
he could not resist the attentions of De Morla. From
him he learned the imputation he had cast on the
valour and gratitude of Alvarado; a charge which the
novice removed, by magnanimously confessing, that
his own indiscretion had carried him beyond the
reach of Don Pedro, who should be in no wise held
accountable for his misfortune. He heard with more
interest, and even smiled with good-natured approbation,
at the story of Fabueno's fortune; but a frown
darkened on his visage, when De Morla pictured the
anger and domineering fury of the Tonatiuh; and
this was not diminished, when his friend confessed
himself the champion of the secretary, announced
that Cortes had sanctioned the quarrel, and claimed
of him the offices of a friend.

“If blood must be shed in this quarrel,” he said,
“it must be apparent to you, my very noble and
generous friend, (for, surely, your kindness to Lorenzo
merits this distinction,)—it must be apparent,
I say, that I am he who is called upon to shed it.
The youth is my own follower; for which reason, I
am bound to give him protection, and support him in
all his just rights, whereof one, I think, is to love any
woman who may think fit to give him her affections,
whether she be a princess or peasant. I must, therefore,
after repeating to thee my thanks for thy very
distinguished generosity, require thee to yield up thy
right to do battle with Don Pedro, if battle must, indeed,
be done,—though I have hopes that his good
sense will enforce him to surrender the maid, without
the necessity of bloodshed.”

“I cannot yield to thee, hermano mio,” said De
Morla, quickly; “for there is deadly feud betwixt
the Tonatiuh and myself; and were he to fight thee
a dozen times over, still should he, of a necessity,
measure weapons with me.”

“It doth not appear to me, how this difference can
call for more than one combat; and, as I have told
thee, I think it can be composed, provided thou allowest
me to assume thy place, entirely without conflict.”

“Know thou, my friend,” said De Morla, “that I
have already, in the matter of thy fall and capture,
at the fight of the manta, charged Alvarado with
many terms of opprobrium and insult; for which
reason, a duello has become very inevitable.”

“Having already heard from myself,” said Don
Amador, with gravity, “that Don Pedro cannot justly
incur reproach for my mishap, thou canst do nothing
else, as a true cavalier, but instantly withdraw thy
charges, and make him the reparation of apology;
after which, there will remain no need of enmity.”

“Thou speakest the truth!” said De Morla, impetuously;
“and I am but a knave, to have said, or
even thought, except at the moment when I was
grieved and imbittered by thy supposed death, that
Don Pedro could demean himself, in any battle, like
a craven. I freely avow, and will justly bear witness,
that he is a most unexceptionable cavalier. So
far, I am impelled to pronounce by simple veracity.
But yet is there mortal, though concealed, feud betwixt
us.”

The neophyte looked on his friend with surprise;
seeing which, De Morla took him by the arm, and
said, with great heat,—

“I have come to hear, by an accident, that Don
Pedro did once, ('tis now many months ago,) in the
wantonness of his merriment, fling certain aspersions
upon the innocence of Benita; a crime that I could
not have forgiven even in thee, amigo querido, hadst
thou been capable of such baseness. I now confess
to thee, without having divulged the same to any one
else, that this circumstance did greatly inflame my
anger, and that, from that moment, I have sought
out some means to quarrel with Alvarado, and so
slay him, without involving the fame of Minnapotzin:

for it is clear to me, as it must be to any lover, who
doth truly reverence his mistress, that to associate
her name with a quarrel, would be at once to darken
it with the shadow of suspicion. If I should say to
Alvarado, `Thou hast maligned my mistress, thou
cur, and therefore I will fight thee,' then should he,
for the credit of his honour, aver that he spoke the
truth; and whether he lived or died, the maiden
should still be the sufferer. I have, therefore, resolved,
that my cause of vengeance shall be concealed;
and thou wilt see that the present pretext is
the honourable cloak I have been so long seeking.
This I confess to thee; but I adjure thee to keep my
counsel.”

There was a degree of lofty delicacy and disinterestedness
in this revealment, which chimed so harmoniously
with the refined honour of Don Amador,
that he grasped De Morla's hand, and, instead of
opposing further remonstrance, assured him, both of
his approval and his determination to aid him, as a
true brother in arms, in the conflict.

“But how comes it, my friend,” he demanded,
with a faint smile, “thou darest look so far into futurity,
for such employment? Hast thou forgot the
prophecy of Botello? Methinks, to be fulfilled at all,
the consummation should come shortly; for, with
this night, we finish the war in Mexico.”

“For a time, señor mio,” said De Morla. “Though
the griefs of Montezuma be over, (heaven rest his
soul, for he was the father of Minnapotzin!) the pangs
of his race are not yet all written. I will abide with
Don Hernan; and if Botello do not lie, thou shalt
yet see me sleep on the pyramid.”

“Heaven forbid!” cried Amador. “I would rather
thou wouldst follow mine own resolutions, and, for
once, show Botello that he hath cast a wrong figure.”

“Dost thou mean to desert us?”

“My kinsman sleeps in the lake,” said the novice,
sadly; “the tie that bound me to this fair new world
is therefore broken. In mine own heart, I have no

desires to fight longer with these infidels, who cannot
injure the faith of Christ, nor invade the churches of
Christendom. The Turks are a better enemy for a
true believer; and, if I put not up my sword altogether,
it shall be drawn, hereafter, on them. The
little page, whom I have, by a miracle, recovered, I
will convey with me to Cuenza, after having, in like
manner, recovered his father, (a very noble Morisco,)
or been otherwise assured of his death. I would
greatly persuade thee, having made the princess thy
wife, to follow with me to thy native land. `My
castle lies on Morena's top,'—” continued the cavalier,
insensibly falling upon the melody of the Knight
and the Page, and beginning to muse on the singer,
and to mutter, “Surely Jacinto is the most wonderful
of boys!”—

“My patrimony is worn out,” said De Morla, without
regarding the sudden revery of his friend; “and
I give it to my younger brothers. By peace or war,
somehow or other, this land of Mexico will be, one
day, conquered; and, then, a principality in Anahuac
will count full as nobly as a sheep-hill in Castile. I
abide by Don Hernan. But let us be gone to the
treasury: I hear the ingots chinking, and thou hast
not yet looked upon our spoils.”

The exchequer thus alluded to, and to which De
Morla speedily conducted his friend, was the sleeping
apartment of the general. Of the wealth that was
there displayed,—the stores of golden vessels and of
precious stones, as well as of ingots melted from the
tribute-dust long since wrung from the unhappy Montezuma,—it
needs not to speak. The whole treasury
of an avaricious king, a predecessor of the late captive,
walled up in former days, and discovered by a
happy chance, was there displayed among the meaner
gleanings of conquest. An hundred men, as Don
Amador entered, were grasping at the glittering
heaps, while the voice of Don Hernan was heard
gravely saying,—

“The king's fifth, here partitioned and committed

to the trust of his true officers, we must defend with
our lives; but while granting to all Christian men in
this army, free permission to help themselves here as
they like, I solemnly warn them of the consequences,
should we, as mayhap my fear may prove true, be
attacked this night, while making our way through
the city. The richest man shall thereby purchase
the quickest death.—The wise soldier will leave these
baubles, till we come back again to reclaim them.
This night, I will insure the life of none who carries
too rich a freight in his pockets.”

He spoke with a serious emphasis, and some of the
older veterans, raising their heads, and eyeing his
countenance steadfastly for a moment, flung down
the riches they had grasped, and silently retired from
the apartment. But many others bore about their
persons a prince's ransom.