University of Virginia Library

35. CHAPTER XXXV.

A FEW words will finish the first part of the cronicle
of Don Cristoval.

The victory so marvellously gained, removed the
last obstruction from the path of the Spaniards. The
ensuing day beheld them entering the territories of
their allies; and, in four days more, the chiefs of
Tlascala ushered them, with songs of joy, into the
republican city.

Six days after this happy event, the novice of
Rhodes sat by the death-bed of his kinsman.—From
the moment when Calavar roused out of the fit of unconsciousness,
into which he had fallen on the field
of Otumba, his brain wandered with delirium; but it
gave his young kinsman, as well as the faithful Baltasar,
much relief to perceive, that his visions were
oftener of a pleasant than a disagreeable character.
Thus, the reappearance of Alharef, after such long
seeming death, dwelt in his memory, without the recollection
of his subsequent decease; and with this
came the conceit that Zayda yet lived among the
Alpujarras, restored, like the Wali, to life, and all
forgetful of the wrongs he had done her. He prattled
of returning now to Spain, and now to Rhodes,
and now of making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
It is true, that, sometimes, dark thoughts crept to his
brain, and agitated him with his former griefs; but
these were ever chased away by the sight of Leila,
whose countenance seemed to him as that of a holy
seraph, sent from heaven, to bid him be of good
cheer.

On the fifth day, he recovered his senses, and being
sensible of his approaching dissolution, assembled
at his bed-side, after having received absolution, the
padre Olmedo, and the few friends and followers whom
heaven had spared him in this pagan land, being the
young cavalier of Cuenza, the melancholy Zayda, or

Leila, as Amador yet loved to call her, and Baltasar.
The spear of Alharef had not harmed him; he was
dying, the victim of a long remorse; or, rather, as
it may be said, he expired, when the excitement of
this passion no longer supported him. For, perhaps,
the same thing may be said of many mental diseases,
which is true of certain physical ones, to which a
human constitution has been long accustomed; that
is, they may obtain so vital a command over all its
functions, as to become in themselves the elements,
or at least the bulwarks, of life; so that, when they
are arrested by some unskilful leech, death shall almost
immediately follow the cure.

“I have now called you, my children,” he said,
bending an eye of affection upon the pair, and speaking
very feebly, “to give you such counsel as may
be drawn from the history of my life. Its secrets
are revealed to you, its pages all lie open; and as
you read, your spirits will find their own instruction;
for they will discover, that the indulgence of passion,
especially the passion of anger, doth lodge a barb in
the bosom, never to be plucked out, save by the hand
of death. What I have to say, is rather of command
than advice; and thou wilt listen to me, Amador,
my son, for God hath given thee, in the person
of this gentle Zayda, an argument of obedience,
which will touch thy heart more eloquently than
words.—Break thy sword, hack off thy spurs, cast
thine armour into the sea, and think no more of war,
unless to defend thy fire-side, and the altars of thy
country, from the fury of invaders.”

The novice started with alarm.

“Think not that I rave,” said the knight. “I speak
to thee with the wisdom that comes from the grave.
Think no more of war; for war it is that rouses our
passions; and passions have made me what I have
been, and what I am. I cannot think now, (for, at
this moment, methinks I stand in the presence of Him
who abhorreth contention,) that He will pardon the
shedding of any blood, except that which the necessity

of self-preservation, and the defence of our
country, enforce us to lavish. I repent me of that
which I have poured, though even from the hearts of
pagans; for pagans are still the sons of God, though
walking in darkness, for which we should pity them,
not slay. Thou hast drawn thy sword for glory; but
the lives that are taken for fame, shall weigh upon
the souls of men as murders;—for such they are.
Thou drawest for religion:—give thy purse to the
priest, and bid him convert with the cross; for the
wrath of God will rest for ever upon him who maketh
proselytes with the sword. Wo is me, that the delusions
of glory and Christian zeal have stained me
so deeply! Live for happiness, and thou shalt wrong
none, neither man nor God, and, thus, happiness shall
be awarded thee; live for honour, and thou shalt know,
that heaven acknowledges none but that which is
justice; live for peace, which is virtue; and for religion,
which is goodness. Get thee to thy castle, to
the lands which thou shalt inherit; plant thy vines
and olives, relieve the unhappy, succour the distressed;
and if thy young brother should pant for the
barb and lance, teach him the history of thy kinsman.
Be virtuous, be peaceful, be charitable, and
be happy. When thou hearest of glory, bethink thee
of the poor deluded creatures we have slain in this
land; when thou art told of pious crusades, remember
the days of the Alpujarras.—Would that my days
were to pass again!”—

He paused, with exhaustion.

“The noble knight,” said the padre, “hath spoken
much good and wholesome truth; nevertheless, in the
matter of infidels, what he has counselled, is not well.
For how is it written—”

“Holy father,” murmured Don Gabriel, “there
be men enow who will obey thee in this matter, and
without exhortation or argument. Defeat not my
work; for I rob thee of but one. Let me think, that
the son of my affection will dwell in peace, and
thereby be clean in the eyes of God, and thus happy

at his death-hour. Would that I might appear before
my Maker, without the stain of blood!”

With a few more such precepts of virtue, for
grief and the hand of death had made his heart wise,
Don Gabriel continued to address the novice. He
spoke many words of kindness, also, to the old and
faithful Baltasar, and was about to give his benediction
to the child of Zayda, when a film came suddenly
over his eyes:

“Give me thy hand,” he muttered, faintly and almost
inarticulately; “I see thee not, but mine eyes
are opened to Zayda. Where art thou, Amador, my
son? Heaven is blissful—Alharef—Zayda—all—
Miserere mei, Domine!”—Thus he murmured for
a moment, his voice dwindling to a whisper; then his
lips moved, but without yielding any sound, until, at
last, it was apparent that he had expired, and yet
so gently, that not even a spasm of muscle, or change
of countenance, indicated the passage of his spirit.

Three days after this, at sunrise, the señor Cortes
stood alone with Don Amador de Leste, on the terrace
of the great dwelling in which he had quartered
the remains of his army.

“Thou leavest me then, De Leste?” he said, in a
low voice, looking westward to the hills, beyond
which lay the valley of the lakes.

“Such is my purpose, very noble señor,” said the
cavalier, mildly, but firmly. “My horses are caparisoned
in the court-yard, my little company is in
waiting, my friends have been saluted, and nothing
remains for me but to thank your excellency for your
many manifestations of goodness to me and mine,—
the living and the dead together,—and to pray your
excellency wish me God speed.”

“And can you look upon yonder blue cliffs, and
those snow-capt pinnacles,” said Don Hernan, with

a smothered voice, “and think of leaving the paradise
they encompass, in the hands of the heathen?”

“I know not,” said Don Amador, “that it becomes
me to intrude any advice upon your excellency.
But you have already done deeds, as I am myself
a witness, which will give you immortal fame, though
you should proceed no farther in the impossible attempt
to subjugate this very potent and wonderful
empire.”

“It shall be mine!” said Cortes, smiting his hands
together, and speaking with clenched teeth. “Though
there were but an hundred men left with me,—nay,
were there but ten,—I would sooner that they should
see me rent under the tusks of the wild mountain
hogs, than turning my back for ever against the city
of Montezuma. Thou thinkest the case is desperate;
yet, with those ten Christians, and the hundreds of
thousands of disaffected barbarians, whom I will
gather together, thou shalt hear, perhaps, ere thou
art housed in thy mountain castle of Cuenza, that he
whom thou leavest, is the lord of Mexico; and the
valiant men who remain by him, the barons and
counts of the great empire!”

“With mine own hills of olive and cork, have I
enough to content me,” said the novice, coldly.

“And thou carest not to revenge thy friends, massacred
so barbarously, that fatal night—Flames be
on the soul of the enchanter for ever!” exclaimed the
general, bursting into fury at the recollection.

“I say, God pardon him!” replied Amador, “and
God receive to his rest those friends, of whom you
speak. I have naught to revenge; I lament their
fate, which was dreadful; but I acknowledge that
they were slain in honourable combat.”

“And thou carest not then to strike for the cause
of Christ, and aid in the conversion of countless souls
from perdition?”

The cavalier regarded his general with a meaning
eye. Cortes felt the reproof, and catching his hand,
said, hastily,—

“It is enough! thou hast a young and tender wife
—Who would have dreamed that such a creature
walked with us throughout that night? It is right,
thou shouldst desire to bear her from these scenes of
tumult, and not unnatural thou shouldst wish to share
the peace and happiness to which thou art conducting
her. For myself, I sometimes think of my own fair
Doña in the island, and the pleasant sound of the surf,
rolling, by night, on the beach under her lattice; but
nevertheless, there are, in this same heathen clime,
certain charms, which cause me to forget the fair
Catalina, and my merry brats into the bargain.”

For me,” said the novice, sadly, “there is nothing
in this land but melancholy. Alharef, sire of Zayda,
sleeps under a rock at Otumba; and Calavar, whom
I may call my father, since such he was to me, now
rests in you grove, on the hill-side. I have buried a
faithful servant in the lake, and a good youth, whom
I loved, an old follower of my knight, and a very
dear friend. I shall think of the land with regret,
yet must I leave it without a sigh. I have hopes to
find me some conveyance to the islands, and there,
thank heaven, it is not so difficult to light upon a trader
of Seville bound on the homeward voyage.”

“If thou art, indeed, resolute to depart,” said Cortes,
“I have it in my power not only to wish thee
God speed, but to give thee a good ship of my fleet
at Ulua, commanded by thy very noble kinsman,
which he will, doubtless, man to thy liking with
choice sailors; and wherein, thou canst proceed instantly
to Spain, without the tedious necessity of
touching at Cuba.”

The eyes of the neophyte sparkled. Don Hernan
smiled:

“Assuredly,” said he, “I am rejoiced to pleasure
thee so much; and yet thou wilt thyself confer upon
me a very ineffable obligation, by sailing in that same
good ship, and taking charge of a certain letter I
have here written to his majesty, our lord, Don Carlos,
being the second despatch wherein I have presumed

to acquaint him with the success of our arms,
fighting in his cause, and in that of the holy church.
If it may suit your convenience to bear the same, in
person, to his imperial majesty, I hope you will
have no cause to repent doing me so great a favour.”

“I will bear it to his majesty, in person,” said the
novice, taking the sealed packet, laying it upon his
forehead in token of fealty, and then warmly grasping
the general's hand: “I will do this with much
satisfaction; and, in memory that thou hast, upon
three several occasions, done me such personal
service, as touches me to answer with a life's thankfulness,
if there be any other act wherein I can pleasure
thee, I pray thee command me to the same, without
any reserve; for I will consider that thou dost
thereby acquaint me with a way to testify my gratitude.”

“I think you,” said Don Hernan: “I have no
commission with which I will dare further to trouble
you. And yet, and yet,—and yet”—He hesitated a
moment, and his lip slightly quivered; but instantly
resuming an air of indifference, he continued, “If it
should suit your good convenience,—that is, if you
should prefer,—to travel rather by the hot mountains
of Estremadura, than the barren ridges of La Mancha,
while passing to the court at Madrid, I would
crave of your goodness to inquire me out a certain
village called Medellin, that lieth on the Guadiana,
some few leagues above the city of Merida.”

“Were it an hundred leagues, and they of the
rudest,” said Amador, “I should be no less ready to
do your bidding. But give me to know, when I am
arrived at this same village of Medellin, in what I
can pleasure you.”

“Inquire me out,” said Cortes, “a certain old man,
a poor hidalgo, called Martin Cortes, as also his wife,
Catalina.—By my conscience, señor, they are my
father and mother; and they will have some joy to
hear you speak of me!”

“Now, I vow to heaven!” cried Amador, struck

by the sudden and impetuous tone of feeling, which
Don Hernan strove to hide under a burst of gayety,
“I am sorry they live not as far away as Pampeluna,
at once; that I might show you the readiness with
which I will be your messenger: for, herein, do I
perceive, I shall be looked on by them as a good
angel, sent to them from heaven.”

“Be not over-sanguine,” said Cortes, affecting a
laugh: “for, by my conscience, if you tell her not
every thing to her liking, my mother hath somewhat
of a shrewish way of admonishing you. Nevertheless,
it is enough: it hath been some long years since
they have heard of my whereabout and my what-about;
since, sooth to say, I one day played them a
dog's trick, and, a month after, was chasing the Indians
in Cuba. It will greatly amaze them to hear
I have not been absolutely hanged, as my mother
oft-times promised me, for my sins; and, surely, they
will stare at you, when you tell them I have been
killing a great emperor, as some idle fellows have
charged on me; whereas, you know yourself, having
been so forward to shield him, that Montezuma
was slain by his own people,—a murrain on them!”

“I will bear witness to the truth, and I will say
nothing that can give them pain.”

“I shall be much beholden to you,” said Don Hernan,
eagerly; “for my mother is somewhat more
righteous than other women, and might be convinced,
out of the mouths of some of my friends, that I am
given to godless acts on occasions, which is very
false and slanderous. I will beseech you to bear them
certain curious jewels, and trifles of golden ware,
the fabric of my good savages here, more as mementos
of my gracelessness, than as presents of affection;—seeing
that they are of no great value.
They are such curiosities as will make mine old playmates
stare. Ah, the rascals! they were all better
than I at their books, and somewhat less acquainted
with the pedagogue's palm.—But pho!” he continued,
suddenly dropping the tone of bagatelle, with which

he had spoken, “I do but fool the time: your steed
neighs in the court-yard, your lady looks up to the
terrace—I will detain you no longer. The king's
letter which you bear, will authorize you to demand
of the admiral the best ship in our small navy, as
also to have it sailored and provisioned to your mind;
and therein you can voyage, at your good pleasure,
to the Guadalquivir. I have presumed to order in
waiting, subject to your command, a company of
guides, consisting of four Castilian soldiers, ten Tlascalans,
and thrice as many Totonacs of the coast,
with whom you will take your own will as to speed,
though I recommend you to submit to theirs, in the
matter of the road. Commend me to your kinsman,
the admiral, as also very truly to my parents; and
if the emperor should see fit to express doubts of the
success of this enterprise, in which I am engaged,
tell him that I, Hernan Cortes, do say, and I gage
my head for the fulfilment of the same, that the land
shall be his,—all that lies between the two seas, and
betwixt the narrow neck of Panama to the south,
and the huge isle of Florida to the north: this I promise,
and this I will fulfil.—And now, señor, giving
you my thanks for the good deeds you have already
done me, as well as those which you meditate, and
wishing to your fair and noble wife a green path by
land and a smooth way by sea, I do, very truly and
devoutly, and from the bottom of my heart, pray you
God speed!—Remember me; for you shall hear of
me yet!”

So saying, the two cavaliers descended and parted,
—Don Amador de Leste to cross the seas, and, discharging
the commands of his friend, both to the ancient
hidalgo of Medellin and the great Charles of
Austria, to seek for happiness in his castle of Alcornoque,
in the society of his Moorish bride; and
Hernan Cortes to ponder alone upon the fall of Tenochtitlan.