 | CHAPTER XIII.
THE CONQUEROR IN CHAINS—TRUTH OF ENEMIES—TREACHERY OF
FRIENDS. The damsel of Darien |  |
13. CHAPTER XIII.
THE CONQUEROR IN CHAINS—TRUTH OF ENEMIES—TREACHERY OF
FRIENDS.
The veterans of Vasco Nunez, “the old soldiers of Darien,
hardened,” in the language of Peter Martyr, “to abide
all sorrows,” looked on the approach and splendid array of
Don Pedrarias with faces which did not conceal their vexation.
But whatever may have been the emotions of the
conqueror, they were all suppressed, and he met his successor
with profound reverence, without the least show of
disappointment or disquiet, and promised him implicit
obedience. His habitation, thatched with straw, was given
up to his guests, and a banquet of the simple fruits and
vegetables which the country produced was spread before
them. The modesty of his carriage surprised Don Pedrarias,
who looked for nothing less than violent resistance
and brutal hate, from a man who had been represented by
his enemies in Spain as an outlaw and desperado; and a
long conference which the two had together, seemed calculated
to produce a more respectful and better feeling of
regard in the minds of each for his opponent. But the
frank and confiding nature of Vasco Nunez was ill requited
by his successor, who began the conference by a
falsehood. He assured the conqueror, that he was instructed
by the king to treat him with all favour and
distinction, to consult him on all measures concerning the
colony, and seek from him, in preference to all others, the
desired information relative to the surrounding country.
Suspecting no guile, the conqueror threw aside all that
reserve which had been the natural result of his position
and of the injustice done him, revealed all that he knew,
and at the expressed desire of Pedrarias, put in writing
strength, alliances and wants, but his own conjectures of
the neighbouring provinces, seas, and rivers, and the detailed
plans which he had formed for exploring and possessing
them. Among the particulars given, he described
the route by which he had traversed the mountains; the
discoveries made upon the coast of the south sea and the
gulf; the situation and reported wealth of the island from
which had been taken those rich pearls which had dazzled
and charmed the eyes of the Spanish monarch, the rivers
and ravines most productive of gold, and the names, disposition
and strength of the numerous cassiques with whom
he had formed intimacies or treaties. Having, after repeated
examinations, in all of which he preserved the
most friendly countenance, beguiled from the unsuspecting
warrior all that he deemed necessary to the prosecution
of his conquest, the perfidious Pedrarias dropped the mask,
and to the astonishment and indignation of all, proclaimed
a judicial scrutiny into his conduct. “Señor Vasco,” he
said, giving a signal to his guards at the same moment,
“you have done well and have served worthily, if your
own statements were only and altogether to be relied upon.
But know you that there are serious offences of tyranny
and abuse of power charged against you, for which you
are held to answer. Meanwhile, I must see that you be
kept in security. Juan de Ayora, do your duty.”
Though wounded too keenly by this conduct not to
speak his indignation, the proud spirit of the conqueror did
not utter aught that might have tended to soften the severity
of his enemy. With a natural burst of indignation, starting
to his feet as he beheld the officer approaching, he
exclaimed:—
“And wherefore, Don Pedrarias, have you spoken
smoothly with me until now? Why, if you held me traitor
to my sovereign, have you foreborne his justice until this
moment? Know, señor, if it was for the poor knowledge
which I possessed, for which you have so far forgotten the
dignity of truth, I could have spared you this degradation,
and the unworthy toil of deception. Were the block before
me, and the sword uplifted, I had declared this knowledge
which you deem needful to the interest of my sovereign,
unmoved by the injustice of his minister, as freely as I
declared it but a moment gone.”
“Away with him, and see that he be kept safely, till
the alcalde mayor shall decide upon his cause,” was the
angry command of Pedrarias, who gave no other heed to
the bitter speech of his victim.
“So!” exclaimed the secretary as he beheld his employer
hurried away to prison—“the stroke falls at last,
and by another hand than mine. I could have slain him
many times—by day, by night—at night when he would
have climbed alone the high mountain looking on the sea;
and when, the mountain gained, he went forth at midnight
to fill himself with the sight of his conquests. Little did
he think—he and the old astrologer—that a foe stood watching
behind them, with a sharpened dagger, of whom the stars
said nothing. Why then did I forbear to strike? His armour
was thrown aside—the iron escaupil no longer
covered his defenceless body; and one bound, and one
blow, would have sealed his conquests in blood—ay, and
spared him this degradation. Why did I stay the blow?
why did I spare the victim I had sworn to slay? In truth,
my oath has been too easily forgotten. I heard his sweet
deep voice,—I hearkened to his proud, and eagle-lifted
thoughts—and my cheeks crimsoned with a scalding heat
—I could not strike the heart that seemed so little human
in its greatness. It matters nothing now. The doom
which Micer Codro read for him in the stars, awaits him—
the headsman and the scaffold. I read it in the eyes of
this new governor, whose cunning alone equals his vindictive
malice. Well! it is a blow spared me and a peril.
He takes the labour from my hand, and the blow is no less
certain. And yet!—would he had not slain my brother!—
the elder born—he whom my young heart yearned so to
follow through the world. He has made me desolate—
wherefore should I grieve that he is destined to the ignominious
death?”
“Pedro—boy!”
The harsh tones of Pizarro's voice reached the ears of
the youth. He turned, and the other stood beside him.
Hitherto, the unwitting wound which had been given to
his vanity by the unconscious secretary, had rankled in his
bosom, leaving its traces in his features visible enough
whenever they had encountered—but now the lips were
smiling—the features soothed into hypocritical sweetness,
him.
“Well, Pedro,—these are rare doings. The Señor
Vasco stands in peril of a sudden dismissal to Saint Peter;
—and you are in office no longer. These bright, shining
cavaliers from Spain put us old soldiers of Darien out of
countenance. Think you that they will wear their colours
so gayly in the face of the wild warriors of Zemaco? I
trow not. What think you?”
The boy, wondering at the unusual condescension of one
who had never been careful to conceal his hostility before,
was not less disgusted at the levity with which he spoke
of the probable fortunes of the chief who had ever bestowed
upon the speaker a large share of his confidence and
kindness.
“This man,” he thought to himself, “is no less base
than malignant. Even I, the sworn enemy of Vasco Nunez,
feel no triumph and no joy at his doom—still less can
I feel indifference. And he, who has found but friendship
and favour from his captain, speaks without feeling of his
wrong, when his sword should be among the first to leap
from the scabbard to avenge it.”
To these thoughts, however, he gave no expression.
Concealing his disgust as he best could, he replied evasively,
affecting a dulness on the subject of his patron's position,
which Pizarro well knew did not comport with the
usual intelligence and aptness of the youth.
“Hark ye, boy—there's some business for you which
may give you better pay than the secretaryship, which you
may look upon as an office lost for ever. I can help you
to favour in the sight of Don Pedrarias—nay, get you the
place in his employ which you but lately held with Señor
Vasco; but there is service to be done for this. Pedrarias
is not the person to bestow his favour without consideration.
Come, what say you?”
“Will the Señor Francisco speak out what he would
have?”
“Ay, that I will, Pedro, when I once know how you stand.
I trust you are not one of those fools who let idle feelings
of regard for a falling man prevent them from making favour
with him who hurls him down. We soldiers were
poor knaves indeed, to follow fortunes which no longer
keep the sun. It is your policy now to look to Pedrarias.
a gloomy prison.”
“That is true, Señor Francisco,” replied the youth, “but
can it be that you have thus soon found the sunny side of
Don Pedrarias?”
“Ha! would you dive, boy!” replied the other with a
laugh, though colouring the moment after;—“let that
give you no concern. Enough, that I can help you to his
favour whether I myself enjoy it or not. Are you willing
to be in the sunlight, Pedro?”
“It is the soldier's policy, Señor Francisco, as thou
sayest, and there is wisdom in it. I see not how it can
do me harm, or Señor Vasco harm, to have the smiles of his
enemy.”
“Hum! there may be some doubt about that, Pedro,
but—what need to beat about the bush? What I unfold to
thee, boy, must be secret. Do I have thy promise?”
After a moment's hesitation the boy gave it.
“Nay, that is not enough,” said the other, “thou shalt
swear upon the holy cross,” presenting the hilt of his dagger
as he spoke—“and on the same cross I swear to thee,
Pedro, shouldst thou betray what I now reveal to thee,
thou shalt taste three inches of its blade in the choicest
places of thy bosom. Thou knowest me—I am not the
man to fall from my oath.”
“Nor I one to depart from mine. I will keep secret
what thou tell'st me,” replied the boy, with a calm dignity
which surprised the rough soldier, and reminded him of
his former captain.
“By the holy shrine of Santa Maria, Pedro, but thou
hast dwelt so long in the presence of the Señor Vasco,
thou hast caught some little of his favour in thy countenance.
But come with me aside—there be too many
loungers in the Plaza to-day.”
The youth followed the soldier, until, reaching a clump
of woods which lay on the edge of the town and secured
them from sight, the latter began his revelations.
“Thou knowest,” said he, “or should know, that the
Señor Vasco is shut up on charges which go to affect his
life. Pedrarias holds him guilty of usurpation, tyrannical
abuse of power, and disaffection to the sovereigns of Castile.
The licentiate, Gaspar de Espinosa, has it in commission,
as alcalde mayor, to convict him of these things—
tell thee it is the wish of Don Pedrarias that such proof
should be found, thou wilt guess what I would have of
thee.”
The soldier paused, but the youth would not comprehend
the unexplicit suggestion, and he was forced to resume.
“Thou art less apt than I thought thee, Pedro. Know
then, that it is looked to thee to establish many, if not most,
of these facts against him.”
“Me!” exclaimed Pedro, with an astonishment which
was quite as unmeasured as it was unaffected.
“Ay—you!” replied the other coolly. “What's the
wonder in that?”
“But, Señor Francisco, how can I establish facts of
which I know nothing?”
“Pshaw, boy, thou art fighting against good fortune and
common sense. Thou knowest enough to prove all these
matters. Thou canst prove that Vasco Nunez instigated
the colony against the Bachelor Enciso and the Señor
Diego. It will go near making the Señor Vasco answerable
for his death if this be shown.”
“But these things happened, Señor Francisco, long ere
I came to Darien. If these charges be true, there are
many soldiers in Darien who will be better able to speak
from their own knowledge.”
“Ay, ay—thou art keen as a notary, Pedro; but
thou shouldst know that these old soldiers of Darien
are the last persons in the world to say what shall harm
Vasco Nunez.”
“But thou thyself art one of them.”
“Yes,” replied the other, “but there are reasons good
why I should not appear in this business. The Señor
Vasco has been my friend.”
“And mine!” repeated the youth gloomily.
“Ay, Pedro, but thou holdest no such place in the regards
of men as I. It would lose thee no esteem among
the old soldiers of Darien to speak what thou knowest of
Vasco Nunez—it would take from me, whom they follow,
all respect and consideration.”
“And what I know of the Señor Vasco, if spoken so
loudly that the royal Ferdinand himself should hear, would
do him far less hurt than honour.”
“Dull, foolish boy!” exclaimed the other passionately.
knowest?”
“And what else should I speak, Señor Francisco?”
“That which will prove these charges of Don Pedrarias,
—which will convict him of treason to his sovereign,
tyranny to the subject, wrong to his better, fraud, peculation,
and a thousand other offences, the least of which will
bring him to the block.”
“And Pedrarias is resolved on this?” inquired the
youth in accents of increasing gravity, as he listened to
this bold avowal of villany.
“Ay, fixed as the hills of Darien.”
The youth was silent—a crowd of thoughts were struggling
in his mind, and one rose pre-eminent over all the
rest. “Truly,” thought he, “fate delivers my victim
unto me. But a few moments past, and it was my reproach
that I had suffered my vengeance to be taken by
another. This desire of Pedrarias puts the dagger into
mine own hands. My lips may yet declare his doom.” A
fierce but brief struggle followed in the mind of the boy,
but the noble spirit triumphed. “No!” he said inly—
“let this cold-hearted, malignant, base-minded and brutal
soldier, stab by a lie—I will not. If they have thus resolved
to destroy Vasco Nunez, it will be easy for them to
find many in Darien to swear falsely against him. But,
though he never perish, I will not join with these.”
“Señor Francisco,” he said aloud, “I am not the person
you think me. I cannot do you this service. I have
eaten of the bread of Vasco Nunez, and have hearkened
to his confidence. I am not the man to betray it.”
“Hark ye, boy, speak not too quickly. Be counselled.
You have none to shield you now in Darien from the anger
of Don Pedrarias—nay, humble though he be, from the
hate of Francisco Pizarro. Vasco Nunez can serve you
no longer—you have nothing now to hope at his hands.
Wherefore should you refuse this service to Don Pedrarias,
seeing that it helps you to fortune and protection, both of
which you need. Take a wiser thought to your mind, and
speak as I counsel you.”
“Never, Señor Francisco—never! I will not speak
falsely even of mine enemy.”
“You are not resolved on this?—there is yet time,
you into his service.”
“I thank him, Señor Francisco, and thank you; but my
resolve is already spoken.”
The keen, fierce, fiery eyes of the soldier were fixed
steadily upon those of the youth, but they turned away
baffled after a protracted stare, in which hostility and inquiry
were mingled equally. They saw no fear, no faltering,
no uncertainty in the glance of the boy. Hoarsely he
spoke after this brief examination was over, and while he
turned from him in angry disappointment—
“You are resolute on ruin. Beware!” He shook the
unsheathed dagger as he went, and the last word which
came to the ears of the boy was, “Beware!”
A burst of uncontrollable anguish issued from the lips of
Pedro, when the other had retired, and showed the humiliating
and chafing feeling ever present in his soul, and
the prompter of many of his wayward moods.
“Why, oh! why,” he exclaimed, “are my limbs
feeble? Why, with a spirit proud and impatient as is
mine, are my arms sinewless, and the muscles more soft
and yielding than the woman's? Could I wield sword or
dagger with hope, would this brute soldier have dared assail
mine ears with his base offer and his threatening insolence?
Would it were!—But no!—let me not, by vain
regrets, proclaim the weakness of my soul to be no less
great than that of my body. I must bear with these
shames as I may. How much greater are those of this
great man, whom I must hold an enemy, but whom I cannot
hate:—taken in the toils when his discovery had insured
him honours, and betrayed by his most trusted followers
at a moment when even the sworn foe of his life
feels sorrow at his misfortunes. Would it were that I
could wish that he might live!”
| CHAPTER XIII.
THE CONQUEROR IN CHAINS—TRUTH OF ENEMIES—TREACHERY OF
FRIENDS. The damsel of Darien | |