 | CHAPTER XXV.
BONDS AT ACLA. The damsel of Darien |  |
25. CHAPTER XXV.
BONDS AT ACLA.
The old man performed the office which he had undertaken,
painful though it was, with sufficient resolution,
nor did he spare himself in his narrative. He accused
himself of the counsel by which Vasco Nunez had been
led to the engagement which robbed the Indian damsel of
her rights; and though he did not seek to excuse his
course by the plea of necessity, he yet unfolded the circumstances
by which he had been persuaded that the
adoption of such a course alone, could have rescued his
principal from the iron tyranny of Pedrarias, which, as
the reader will remember, at that time threatened him
with death. Sad and solemn were his accents, and bitter,
indeed, the grief which he expressed at the part he
had taken in the business.
“Thou, my daughter,” he said, “hast been dear to me,
and art dear to me as my own child, and gladly would I
offer up my life this day, could I save thee from this deep
affliction. But it may not be. The honour of Vasco
Nunez requires this sacrifice of thy own and his affections.
But thou shalt be cared for. Henceforward I will
be thy father and thy friend; and neither pain nor care
shall afflict thee, while it is in the power of Micer Codro
to baffle their approaches.”
Careta heard him in silence. The power of speech
had been taken from her when she listened to the utterance
of those first words which declared her isolation.
Her eyes were dry; and they glared with a vague apprehension,
rather of mistrust than fear, upon the countenance
of the speaker. The pulsation at her heart seemed
suddenly to stop, and when the astrologer ceased speaking
in the activity of his own suggestive conscience, more
full of reproach, than could have been any words from
her lips. Again he spoke, not in palliation either of
himself or of Vasco Nunez, but accusation of both.
“It might be avoided, Careta—this cruel deed—this
departure from that faith which Vasco Nunez has pledged
to thee and thy father, not less earnestly than to Pedrarias
and Teresa Davila, and which—”
She broke the silence which had sealed up her lips so
long.
“It was the truth then that Señor Pedro spoke!” she
murmured in barely audible accents; “it was all truth.
I have heard of this before, my father—from the lips of
Señor Pedro I heard it, the night when he came to
slay—”
The choking emotion stifled the accents in her throat
when she came to speak of him; and the event to which
her memory brought her—the event of that night when,
in the devotedness of her heart, she stood between the
dagger-point of the assassin and that bosom which now
proved itself so utterly regardless of hers—stung her
with a keener pang, when, by a natural reflection, her
sense of justice assured her that such devotion, alone,
should have secured her the lasting love of the man for
whom it had been so strongly shown, and without which
who could not have survived to requite another's love, or
prove so faithless to hers. The consciousness of utter
abandonment—the feeling that she was now, on a sudden,
cut away from all the ties which had sustained her—that,
where she had set her soul, she was denied to rest for
hope, for love, for nourishment—was too overwhelming
for farther expression, and slowly she sank from the rude
bench on which she had been sitting, and crouched and
cowered upon the rush-strewn floor of the habitation, uttering
neither word nor moan, and with face bent to the
ground in a seeming stupor, from which, with a mistaken
kindness, the astrologer sought to arouse her. She had
neither swooned nor fainted, nor was she unconscious, as
at first he thought; and when he renewed his assurances
of his own continued and increased regard and protection,
she answered in a manner which sufficiently betrayed
her entire indifference to her future lot.
“He told me of all this, but I believed him not. Nay,
when the thought sometimes troubled me with a strange
fear, I trembled lest my lord should see it, and dreaded
lest he should think I doubted him. I told him not of the
dark tale which Pedro poured into mine ears, and my
cheeks scorched me as if with fire for shame that I should
think of it again. Yet to think now, that it is all true—
that—that—oh, my father, why may I not die at once,
and go down into the cold earth without more feeling?
Why, why should he not stab the poor Indian to the heart,
and let her perish? The keen edge of the dagger were
not half so bitter as these bitter words of death, which
wound me even as with an arrow that is poisoned, and
yet do not kill.”
“Nay, my daughter, think not so deeply upon it. Thou
shalt lose no friends—nay, indeed, thou shalt lose even
little or no love. Vasco Nunez loves thee not less because
of this new tie—he will be to thee even—”
“Tell me not this, my father. Had I not been taught
in other lessons than those which teach my people—had
he not taught me of other gods, and of things more
sacred which forbid such thoughts—I might believe thee,
since the women of Coyba behold daily the heart of the
warrior divided among many. But the faith which he
has given me, since first he took me from my father at
Coyba, is a better faith for the poor woman who has but
one heart, and gives it all to one warrior. Alas! alas!
she must die, if he cares not for the possession.”
“But he cares for it, Careta. I tell thee, Vasco Nunez
loves thee not less because of his pledge to Teresa Davila—”
“No, my father, no! He never loved the poor girl of
Coyba, or he had not given her up. Say to him that
Careta is very sad—very sick and sorry—but she will
not vex him by her sorrows. Tell him she does not
complain that he leaves her for the Spanish lady. Should
he not love the woman best who comes from among his
own people?—and yet, my father, never did Careta see
among her own people, a warrior to love as she loved my
lord. When I am gone tell him this. Let him not ask
for the Indian woman—she will go among the hills, and
in the thick woods, where none may see her:—and she
will die there very soon.”
The old man's heart melted within him.
“My poor girl, would it were that I could spare thee
such pangs as these. If my words could save thee and
avail—”
“Do not speak them, my father. If my lord is not
willing that I should sleep upon his bosom, wilt thou make
him willing? Thou canst not; nor, if thou couldst,
would I again place my head upon the heart which beats
only for another. No! no! Let him take the Spanish
lady in place of Careta—Careta will pray to the Blessed
Virgin that she may love my lord as well as the Indian
woman loved him. Tell my lord I will pray for him
while I live. I will not be angry with him, nor chide him,
though my heart feels very strange and very sad.”
“He deserves not such love, Careta; he deserves not
thy prayer.”
“Go, my father, and say not this. If he deserves not,
shall I, who love him so well, speak of him so unkindly?
No, no! Go to him, and tell him to wed the Spanish lady,
but not to fling her from his heart when he is tired, as he
has flung away the poor Careta.”
“Blind heart! blind heart!” exclaimed the astrologer
as the Indian woman turned away and sought the inner
chamber of her cabin,—“to cast away so sweet a treasure,
so dear a gift from Heaven, to give place to one so
worthless and vain as she for whom his admiration is a
madness not less ungovernable than blind. But I will be
the father to this forest child; she shall be my care while
I have life. The Christian seed is in her bosom—a choice
plant in a fitting soil;—and if mortal love be denied her,
Jesu help the labour that would compensate her heart
with love that is eternal.”
“Thou hast told her all!” exclaimed Vasco Nunez
when the astrologer joined him.
“Ay, my son; I have endured a pang of hell within
my heart, while beholding with my eyes an image of
heaven. God grant there be no other pangs like this.
God grant that thou suffer not for this sacrifice—a sacrifice
no less blind than cruel, and in which thy loss is far
more than that even of this injured woman.”
“Spoke she bitterly, Micer Codro?”
“Bitterly! Ay. If to pray for him who wronged her be
a bitter prayer, then was her speech full of bitterness. It
her to thy arms, reject the alliance with Pedrarias, and
fly from his dominion. I swear to thee, my son, there is
life and happiness at thy bidding, if thou dost this; if not,
defeat, ignominy, strife and death. Say not thou hast had
no warning; the stars toil to counsel thee if they cannot
save.”
But the astrologer spoke in vain.
“The fates will have their victim!” he continued, as he
heard the slow but inflexible resolve of his companion.—
“Alas! my son, how would those scales fall from thine
eyes, were thy heart free from the snares of Teresa
Davila. How much wiser and juster wouldst thou be if
thou lov'dst her not. It is thy blind passion which dooms
the poor Careta, not thy sense of what is due to Pedrarias.
Thou wilt go as the sheep to the shambles—into
the very den of the butcher. Sad to think! Sad to
think! when an hour's sail upon these broad billows
would bear thee to safety and new renown.”
“Thou wilt take Careta under thy care, Micer Codro.
Provide her a place in the brigantine, where I may not
see her. I will send her to Coyba when we shall have
reached the Balsas.”
“Thou wilt then send from thee thy guardian angel.
Thou hast ever been fortunate since she has slept within
thy arms.”
“Goad me not farther, Micer Codro; my sense swims
with strange doubts and fancies. I am not surely myself
within this hour—nay, not since I have read this letter
and resolved upon this thing. Do not madden me with
thy farther reproaches.”
“Thou art under the bondage of an evil sign,” replied
the other; “that letter and she who writes it, have
turned thy heart within thee, and made it a fountain of
strange and warring waters, which will vex and madden
thee for ever. Wert thou wise now, the holy man should
quiet this strife and soothe those waters, and lay the troubling
spirits with a spell, which the good angels would rejoice
to smile upon. Thou shouldst bind thyself to this
woman, whom thou lovedst when a pagan, and whom
thou desertest when a Christian. I go to her now, Vasco
Nunez, to bid her be in readiness. Oh! be wise ere I
word from thee.”
The word was unspoken. The passion, long suppressed,
which he had entertained for Teresa Davila from
the first moment when he beheld her, swayed with arbitrary
power every feeling in his bosom. His whole heart
was subject to her fatal rule; and though he could not
but feel deeply for the wrong done to the Indian woman,
his heart was too weak and too submissive to reject or
resent the dominion which impelled him to such injustice.
The fatal letter was still in his hand; its contents
were in his memory—every word; and while there, and
with such perfect supremacy, he lacked the courage no
less than the will to resist their influence. He suffered
the astrologer to depart upon his mission, while he joined
the messengers of Pedrarias, and prepared for his journey
to Darien.
Lone, wretched, but resigned, Careta was conducted
to the vessel by Micer Codro, and the little cabin of the
brigantine given up entirely to her possession. But a
solitary glimpse of her person, during the brief voyage to
the Balsas, did Vasco Nunez behold, and he shrank away
from the contemplation of those features whose sorrows
were his shame. He shrank away from beholding her,
and his eyes never again wandered to that part of the
vessel which contained her form. She saw not him, and,
indeed, saw none while the voyage lasted. The astrologer
sought her to console, but his words seemed to be
thrown away upon her. She gave him no heed, or at
least seemed to yield no thought to what he said. If she
answered at all, it was evident that her comprehension of
his objects was imperfect, and the effort painful to respond
to them. When they reached the Balsas, and the
messengers for Coyba, to whom Vasco Nunez had given
it in charge to conduct her to her father, were prepared
to commence their journey, she was no where to be
found; and though she had been seen but a little while
before the vessel entered the river, the reasons were
strong for supposing she had thrown herself overboard
before it did so. Search was made for her along the
shore wherever it was thought possible for her to secrete
herself, but in vain; and Vasco Nunez was subjected to
the cruel conviction, that his criminal injustice had
equally fatal to her happiness and life.
It would be needless to dwell upon his misery as this conviction
forced itself upon his mind. He now felt, for the first
time, the full force of his cruel and criminal proceedings; and
could she at that moment have been restored to his arms, it
is certain that in his penitence he would have done her justice
—he would have re-resolved with a better regard to the dictates
of honour; and, adopting those counsels of the astrologer,
which he now acknowledged he had been too ready to
reject, he would have placed it out of his own power to have
repeated the injustice. He would have made her his wife,
as he pledged himself to her father to do, and bidding defiance
to Pedrarias with a more manly and daring temper,
would have spread his adventurous sails for the golden
shores of Peru. Even now would he have done so, had
he entertained any doubts of the faith of Pedrarias. But
this he did not; and with a spirit more oppressed and
humbled—more troubled with doubts and misgivings, the
inevitable fruits of a guilty conscience—he proceeded on
his way to meet his insidious enemy. Sad and silent, he
crossed again the weary mountains over which he had
toiled with an eagle spirit, how far different from that
which nerved him now. Even the remembrance of Teresa,
and the thought that he was on his way to meet with
one, who, unhappily, had been ever too dear an object in
his regards, failed to soothe and to sustain him under the
heavy weight of his self-reproach, which the disappearance
of Careta cast upon his mind; and, with the look of one
conscious that the unrelenting fates were closing the toils
around him, he went forward, until even the messengers of
Pedrarias began to feel a sentiment of regret, and, perhaps,
remorse, when they beheld one, whom they esteemed noble
in every respect, going forward blindly to his doom. This
sentiment became stronger as they approached Acla, and
at length the kinder feelings of Gaspar Nino, the chief of
the messengers, getting the better of his caution and loyalty,
and touched with the melancholy that weighed upon the
mind of the adelantado, he revealed to him the facts so far
as they were known in Darien, the suspicions entertained
by all parties, and the one circumstance, which, to a more
suspicious mind than Vasco Nunez, might have seemed
conclusive, the arrest and imprisonment of his friend Arguello.
by this recital, would not believe it.
“These are conjectures only,” he said to Gaspar Nino.
“Arguello has been guilty of something which may merit
imprisonment, and though Pedrarias might have spoken to
me of the matter, yet I see not that his omission to do so,
makes any thing in favour of thy suspicion. Besides, I
am conscious of no evil intention, no wrong, no crime, no
injustice, to Pedrarias, for which I have any cause of apprehension;
and this letter”—here he spoke to his own
thoughts rather than to Nino, for he refered to the fatal
letter of Teresa,—“this letter is proof against thy story.
No, no! Gaspar Nino—thou art mistaken—thou art led
away, like all our people, by quick and groundless suspicions.
If Pedrarias be troubled by any jealousy of one to
whom he hath pledged his daughter in marriage, my readiness
to seek him and place myself in his power, will banish
all such notions. Yet, I think thee, Gaspar Nino—thou
shalt find favour at my hands for thy readiness to show me
favour. I thank thee and thy companions for the good
feeling with which you have all spoken of a danger,
which, if well grounded, I had had no claim upon you to
disclose.”
“Señor Vasco, be not too certain of thy position with
Don Pedrarias. This same suspiciousness of temper which
thou well say'st is common to us all, is, if possible, more active
in the bosom of Pedrarias than that of any man in Darien.
He hath, as thou well knowest, been suddenly jealous of
thee ere this, when there was, perchance, as little occasion
for jealousy as now. Beware! Put thyself in safety—
there is yet time for thee to escape. We look down upon
Acla, but they see us not. Fly while there is yet season,
and make thyself sure in safety. It were a pity that so
brave a man should fall into evil snares.”
The suggestion was at once seconded by Micer Codro,
who had all along warned his companion against it. But
the other was no less rigid in his resolve than before.
“Enough, enough, my friends; but truly though ye
mean well, ye afflict me. I am weary of this sort of struggle—this
struggle against faith and confidence—assurances
made with strong words of solemn import, and truth pledged
in heaven's sight. If I may no longer confide in man, let
me perish,—there is nothing left worth living for.”
“Alas! my son—it is in woman that you confide—not
in man!” exclaimed the astrologer—“but who are these—
what may this mean?”
The words of the astrologer were echoed by the whole
party, not excepting Vasco Nunez himself. They were
surrounded by the armed soldiers of Pedrarias; and ere
they could again speak, Francisco Pizarro, who commanded
for Pedrarias, stood in the presence of his victim, and
advanced resolutely, though with downcast eyes, to arrest
him.
“How is this, Francisco?” demanded the adelantado,
while he gazed with no less surprise than indignation upon
the man from whose gratitude he might well have expected
other treatment. “Is this the way, Francisco, you have
been accustomed to receive Vasco Nunez?”
The brutal soldier muttered something, the words
“duty,” “loyalty,” and “Don Pedrarias,” alone, being
clearly intelligible to the ears of the prisoner.
“Enough! Enough, Señor! Do your duty, since it
must be thus. Micer Codro, the poor Careta is already
avenged.”
“Lost! lost! lost!” was all the reply which the astrologer
made, as he followed his friend and favourite, now in
the custody of his own lieutenant, to meet with the enemy
who sat, glowering like a hungry tiger, in waiting at Acla
for his prey.
| CHAPTER XXV.
BONDS AT ACLA. The damsel of Darien | |