University of Virginia Library

45. CHAPTER XLV.

The gigantic and haughty sovereign of the Alabamous was
sensibly awed by the stern aspect which encountered him, when
he turned from the beautiful Coçalla to welcome to his abode the
outlawed knight of Portugal. Stern self-possession, calm inflexible
endurance—as significant of the big heart and the unyielding
courage—are among the master virtues of the red men. In brief
words, Coçalla had conveyed to her uncle the simple outline of
the fortunes of Vasconselos, as well as her own, since she had
first come to a knowledge of the Spaniards. Tuscaluza had heard
enough to compel his respect for the knight, and to secure his
gratitude and confidence in consideration of what he had done for
the Princess. But when he looked on Philip, he saw before him
no ordinary warrior. He felt himself in the presence of a Fate
—of a terror and a power, the resources and purpose of which
he could instantly conjecture from the mixed aspect of concentrated
woe and vengeance which confronted him. He welcomed
the knight, but the latter had no answer; and the savage prince,
who seemed at once to comprehend the nature and the necessity
of the cavalier, sate quietly beside him upon the bear skins, and
yielded himself composedly, while Coçalla proceeded to unfold
the details of that long history which she had hitherto rendered
him in the briefest possible manner.

To one who should regard only the outer aspects of the red
man, the features of Tuscaluza betrayed not the slightest secret
of the impression which this narrative made upon his soul. But
the pride, anger, fierce hatred, and eager impulse to war, were
not the less active in his bosom, because there were no external
signs of their presence. At the close of the story, he simply rose
and threw off the scarlet robes with which De Soto had decorated
his person, cast them contemptuously upon the earthen floor of
his cabin, and, as he paced the apartment to and fro, he walked
over the rich silks unheedingly. Then, after a brief interval, he
stretched his hand out to Vasconselos. The latter took it without
a word, and rose. He laid his own hand upon his breast,
and said, in the Choctaw dialect:—

“Philip is a warrior. He will fight the battles of the great

Tuscaluza. Will the Cassique say to his warriors—Go! follow
Philip, that we may drive the Spaniards to their homes beyond
the sea?”

“That we may drive them into the sea!” was the fierce response,
as the savage monarch again eagerly grasped the hand of
the knight. He added—“Philip shall be a great chief of the Alabamous.
He shall have many warriors to go with him to battle.
He shall show to the Black warrior of the Alabamous how we
may best feed on these Spaniards, and capture the mighty beasts
upon which they ride.”

“It shall be done. Let Philip be clad in the war-paint of the
Alabamous, and bring him garments for a chief of the red men.”

When Philip had spoken these words, Coçalla threw her arms
about his neck. He did not return her caresses, but he looked
into her face with a tender sadness, which for a moment smoothed
the terrible expression from his visage. At this moment the
page Juan entered the apartment. Coçalla caught his glance,
and instantly withdrew her arms from the neck of Vasconselos.
How subtle are the feminine instincts. The forest Princess
seemed to know that Juan looked not favorably upon the passion
which she felt for Philip. The page, meanwhile, recoiled
from the glance of Tuscaluza, who, as he regarded the intruder,
stopped in his walk, exclaiming—“Hah!”

Coçalla calmly bade the page enter, and explained his relation
with Vasconselos.

“It is good,” replied the Cassique, resuming his walk. “It is
good; but let him go, till one shall come to him and say, `thy
master hath use for thee,' and his finger conveyed the same directions
to the page himself. With a sad, longing look towards
Philip—who did not seem to heed him, or, indeed, to heed anything—Juan
turned away, and left the hovel.

It was then that Tuscaluza brought forth sundry rich garments
of native furs and cotton, the latter stained brightly with yellow,
the color of the nation, and crossed with bars of blue. The banner
of Tuscaluza was thus designed, the bars of blue being three
in number. These were presented to Philip, who received them
as a matter of course, with something of indifference in his manner,
while he stooped carefully and picked up the scarlet robes
upon which Tuscaluza had so scornfully trampled. These he restored
to the Cassique.

“Why should the great warrior show to the Spaniards that he
is angry, and cast his gifts upon the ground? Let the robe disguise
the wrath. Let the great warrior rather persuade the

Spaniards that he is a friend; nor tell him when he means to
strike.”

The suggestion corresponded happily with the genius of savage
warfare.

“Good!” said the chief, resuming and shaking the robes, but
without freeing them from the stains which they had already
taken from the earth. When the next day, these stains were
visible to the eyes of the Spaniards, the cavaliers enjoyed a pleasant
laugh at the expense of the grim warrior.

“He drank quite too much of the Canaries last night, your
Excellency,” said Nuno de Tobar. “He hath been rolling down
hill, and methinks hath had a taste of the river, which doubtless
failed to relish after the wine.”

“Nay, Señor Nuno,” was the reply, “he walked away with
all the erectness which he showed at the beginning.”

“Yes; but did you not see that he never trusted himself to the
back of his horse. It was led off by one of his followers, and he
strode away on foot.”

“Yes; and had thine eyes but followed him as he sped, then
wouldst thou have seen that his movement was solid and square,
like a tower. He went not to the right nor to the left, till the
great forests received him.”

“Then hath he had a brew of his own ere he slept, for verily
those stains of the scarlet are those of a man who hath wallowed
upon the bosom of his mother, without knowing well what arms
have embraced him. All these savages possess the art of making
strong drink.”

“And upon that thou found'st thy argument for its necessity
and justification. Go to, Señor Nuno, and let not this heathen
Prince suspect that you laugh at his weakness—if such it be—for
verily he is as proud and jealous of his state as ever was Lucifer,
when he had sway among the stars. Away to thy post, and see
that thy detachment be in marching order! Remember, he is not
to suspect that there are guards upon his person.”

Such was the policy of the Spaniards. That of Tuscaluza,
tutored as he was by Vasconselos, was a few shades more profound.
All that night these two chiefs communed together in the
hovel; Coçalla, after a while, having retired. Juan was kept in
waiting, but in an adjacent cabin.

We design that the strategies of the red men shall gradually
unfold themselves. It is enough to mention here that Philip conveyed
to the Black Warrior a full idea of the importance to the
Spaniards of their horses, and the necessity of capturing them,
or slaying them. He counselled the latter course as by far the

best, but urged, in the meanwhile, that, in the event of a conflict,
the scene of action should always be so chosen as to deprive the
cavalry of all share in the battle. It was this counsel that finally
determined Tuscaluza to conduct the enemy to one of his largest
towns, named Mauvila. This was a walled town, and is supposed
to have stood upon the northern bank of the Alabama, at a place
now called Choctaw Point. The town of Mauvila occupied a
noble plain. The walls were rude, being high embankments of
earth and wood, filled in between great forest trees; the wood
being fastened in piles with vines and reeds, and the face of the
wall being plastered with a thick coating of native clay or earth,
which hardened into smooth consistency in the sun and air. The
defences were slight, of course—such as strong arms and good
axes could hew down in short time, and through which the small
falconets of that day could have easily blown a capacious opening.
But the Spaniards were without artillery of any kind. Still, they
had adequate implements for breaking their way, if time were
allowed them. The wall was pierced with loop-holes for arrows,
and at certain moderate distances it was surmounted by numerous
towers, each capable of holding a score of fighting men.
There were but two gates, one on the east, the other on the west
side. In the centre of the village was a great square, or parade-ground,
around which the buildings were erected. These did not
exceed a hundred in number, but they were mostly vast fortresses,
capable of containing entire tribes, from five hundred to fifteen
hundred persons in each—great halls only, without rooms; the
red men lodging together as in caravanserais.

To this place, thus constructed, the Black Warrior conducted
his destined victims. He was accompanied by few personal attendants,
and no warriors. To this he had been counselled by
Vasconselos. But he had made preparations elsewhere for the
part which his followers had to play, and the consciousness that
he was held a close prisoner by the very courteous knight who
attended him, did not lessen his purpose of giving the Spaniards
such sauce to their supper as would effectually spoil their appetites.
When the vanguard of De Soto's army appeared before
the town, the Adelantado leading and accompanied by Tuscaluza,
a splendid array of the native warriors, flaunting in feathers, in
robes of fur and cotton, of various and brilliant colors, came
forth to meet them. To these succeeded long lines of beautiful
damsels—and they were beautiful though dusky—“dark but
comely” as was the maid who was sung by the erring muse of
Solomon the Wise.—These came forth with songs and dances,—
rude pipes of reed, the simple flutes of the region—cymbals and

drums, made of the gourd, covered with skins tightly drawn, and
long clarions, hollowed out of the soft woods common to the
swamps.

So far, all seemed to go as merrily as marriage bells, and De
Soto had no cause for apprehension; but he had some occasions
for doubt, when, on entering the town, he found that, while he,
himself, his officers and immediate attendants, were assigned a
couple of the best houses of the place, his troops were to be
lodged in cabins without the walls. The great body of the army
had not yet arrived, but followed on, somewhat too tardily, under
the charge of Luis de Moscoso.

Hanging closely, but unseen, upon the steps of Moscoso—like
a gathering thunder cloud that marshals its mighty legions on the
very verge of the horizon—Philip de Vasconselos followed with
a force of some three thousand warriors. A dozen times was
he tempted by the heedless manner of Moscoso's march to dart
upon him with his cloud of savages, and destroy him, if possible,
before he could unite with De Soto; and long afterwards did
he reproach himself with not having done so. Could he have
seen the banneret of Don Balthazar de Alvaro flaunting amidst
the gay array, he could scarcely have foreborne the effort. It
was against Don Balthazar first, and De Soto next, that his concentrated
vengeance was directed. Neither of these were present
to stimulate his rage. Besides, he might mar the plot concluded
upon with the Black Warrior, by anticipating the designated
moment, and some fugitives might escape on horseback,
and convey to the very victims whom he sought, the intelligence
which should enable them to guard effectually against the attack.
Hungering, therefore, for the action, he was compelled to control
himself and his red followers—no easy task—and which he, perhaps,
never could have done but that he was supported by the
presence and authority of Coçalla, the Princess. She kept close
beside him as he went, the two followed by Juan, with wild emotions
of a passionate love and anger mixed. The wretched boy!
He, too, had his temptations, and more than once he found himself
meditating to lift his lance, and strike it into the back of the
beautiful Princess, though with the certainty of immediate death
himself, that he might end his pangs of jealousy forever. Verily,
they were great, and the tender devotion of the Princess to
Philip, never suffered them to sleep for a single moment. It
was still a feminine consideration that restrained him. How
should his dying eyes meet the anger in those of Philip, were
he thus to strike?

Tuscaluza had a considerable body of warriors with him at

Mauvila—possibly three or four thousand. There were still
other bodies collecting. The always extravagant statements of
the Spanish and Portuguese authorities, by which they have
sought to exaggerate the importance of the event, and to lessen
the seeming losses of the Spaniards in the struggle, are to be
received with many grains of allowance. Let it suffice that the
Black Warrior was embodying, and had embodied, a considerable
number of warriors, quite enough to have devoured his enemies—using
his own language—had there been any equality in
their defences and armor. But the Spaniards were clad in
mail, covering the most vulnerable parts; their faces only partially
exposed, their thighs and legs. The darts and arrows had
but small marks. The savages, on the other hand, might as
well have been naked. Their furs, bear skins, and even shields
of hide, afforded no sort of protection from the bullet of the fusileer,
or even the sword-cuts, the lance-thrusts, and arrows of
the horsemen and archers. Philip de Vasconselos knew too
well the greatness of this inequality between the combatants,
and felt that the very numbers of the savages, within a certain
range, were rather hurtful than helpful in the action. The very
valor of the red men was a danger, since they had not yet learned
to appreciate their foes. He strove, in every possible way, and
by every argument, to teach this to the Black Warrior, and his
favorite captain, without offending their self-esteem. Unfortunately
for them he succeeded but imperfectly. The pride and
passions of Tuscaluza both operated fatally to precipitate events
and make him forgetful of all the counsels of the Portuguese
knight.

It was early in the morning of the 18th of October that De
Soto, with the Black Warrrior, and the vanguard of the Spanish
army, entered the village of Mauvila. The town, as we have
seen, was strongly fortified, impregnable, indeed, to such assaults
as were common to the experience of the red men. The arrangements
of Tuscaluza for the disposition of his troops were
such as to offend the military caution of the Adelantado. He
was advised, too, of other suspicious circumstances in the conduct
of the red chief—of the gradual accumulation of large bodies
of troops—of the collection of vast piles of weapons of war,
shafts and macanas—and of several missing soldiers—stragglers
who had probably been massacred. De Soto was aroused and
anxious, but felt that it was necessary to temporize until the
coming of Moscoso with the main body of the army. He
affected to be satisfied, and felt that he was safe so long as he
had Tuscaluza in his custody. But the haughty spirit of the

Sovereign precipitated the issue. They had scarcely entered the
town when he signified to De Soto the abode which had been
assigned him, while he indicated his own purpose to occupy another.
But the Adelantado replied, cavalierly perhaps—that he
did not approve of the arrangement.

“The Black Warrior will remain with me.”

The haughty soul of Tuscaluza then blazed out—

“The Black Warrior is the king in all these countries. It is
for him to command. It is for all others to obey. The Spanish
chief is at liberty to depart, but he must not pretend to say
to Tuscaluza, here shalt thou remain, or thither shalt thou
go. Does the Spaniard hear? Such is the speech of the Black
Warrior.”

The moment was not auspicious for a decisive reply to this
speech, such as, under other circumstances, De Soto would have
given. Tuscaluza waited for no answer to his words. He entered
the dwelling which he had indicated as his own abode,
leaving the Spanish chief to find his way to the other. That in
which he took shelter contained a thousand warriors. De Soto
quietly proceeded to the dwelling appointed for his use, and instantly
sent out his officers to go secretly among his troopers,
and command them to hold themselves in readiness for action.
Meanwhile, he resolved still to keep up the appearance of friendship
and cordiality. Breakfast being prepared, he sent Juan
Ortiz, the interpreter, to invite the Black Warrior to his table.
He was refused admittance, but his message was delivered, and
the reply was civil—“The Black Warrior will come.”

But the Black Warrior did not come. Some time elapsed,
and Juan Ortiz was sent with a second message, receiving the
same answer as before. The same result followed. There was
a long delay; and again Juan Ortiz was despatched with a third
message. Now, whether it was that the interpreter, vexed at
his repeated miscarriages, became insolent in his tone and language,
or whether the red men now found themselves ready for
a change in theirs, must be a subject of conjecture; but, when
Juan Ortiz, standing at the door of the Sovereign, cried aloud to
his subjects—“Tell Tuscaluza, that the food grows cold upon
the table; that the Adelantado awaits him, and sends to him to
come forth at once,”—then the long suppressed storm broke
out in fury. A red warrior sallied forth to the entrance, crying
aloud, while his eyes flashed fire, and all his face was inflamed
with anger—

“Vagabond and robber, begone! Is it such as thou that
darest clamor aloud at the doors of a great chief, crying, come

forth, come forth! Away to thy robber master, and say to him,
that when Tuscaluza comes forth it is to destroy him. Hence,
vagabond!” And as Juan Ortiz, half frightened out of his
senses, sped away, he could hear the grim savage exclaim
proudly—

“By the sun and moon! This is no longer to be borne. To
your weapons, warriors of Mauvila, and let us put an end to the
insolence of these wandering wretches!”

The speaker was the great leader of the Mauvilians—their
general—in their own phrase, the Big Warrior. He had led
them in a hundred conflicts. He had won fame and glory from
them all. His triumphs were about to end with his conflicts.
Having spoken, he beheld a group of Spaniards in the great
square, closely huddled together. There were other Spaniards
near at hand, but passing singly. He did not notice these, but
making a signal to one of his followers, a bow and arrows were
handed him. He seized the bow, threw back from his shoulders
the flowing mantle of skins which he wore, and was about fixing
the arrow to the string, when his purpose was arrested and his
movements anticipated by the action of one of those cool, always
ready and prompt warriors, to whom constant strife has served
to impart resolve and instantaneous action—one Balthazar de
Gallegos. The sword from this warrior, already bared in his
grasp, flashed in air the moment, when the Big Warrior grasped
the bow, and before the arrow could leave the string, the sharp
blade was ranging through the vitals of the red man, who fell
dead upon the spot. And thus commenced a conflict of a character
the most terrible and bloody, destined to paralyze the fortunes
of Hernan de Soto. The fate which had been hovering
like a storm-cloud above his head, was swooping down at last
upon his victim.