Volume I Part 19 (1/2)
and putting the paper into Villafana's hands, he dismissed him with the hurried charge,
”Away--see to it.”
He then flung the reed back to the writer who had already resumed his squatting att.i.tude, and reascended the platform.
On those who surmised the cause of this sudden interruption, the agitation of Don Hernan had the good effect of banis.h.i.+ng from their minds any lingering suspicions of his entertaining personal ill-will towards the unfortunate Lerma. All went to show that he was shocked at the young man's fate, and the necessity of ministering to it, even in the simple act of confirming a judgment, awarded by others; but, unhappily, the same feeling that exonerated the judge, still further increased the odium attached to the criminal. How great, they thought, must be the guilt of him whom it causes Cortes so much suffering to condemn.--But the Captain-General, recovering himself, gave them little time for such speculations.
”Well, infidel, thou speakest well,” he cried, his voice becoming firmer with each syllable; ”What hidest thou in the sixth bundle?--or rather, what if I should accept thy master's n.i.g.g.ardly offer, and depart with these baubles for women and children, as thou hast rightly called them?”
”Hear the words of Guatimozin,” replied the amba.s.sador, with a careless emphasis, as if properly understanding the futility of the proposal, and, indeed, with a look of scorn, as if learning to despise one capable of Don Hernan's late weakness: ”If Malintzin depart with the fifth pack, cast the sixth into the lake, and tell him, that, in its place, he shall have sent after him to the seaside, a thousand sacks of robes and four thousand sacks of corn, to clothe and feed his people as they sail over the endless sea. Say to him besides--”
”Pho,” interrupted Cortes, ”have done with this mummery, and get thee to the sixth sack, which I am impatient to examine. What hast thou there?”
”The riches which are more precious to Mexico than the trinkets of her children,” replied the stately barbarian; and, as he spoke, he rolled upon the floor, arrowheads and spearpoints of bright copper, sharp blades of itzli and heavy maces of flint, which made up the contents of the last bundle: ”Hear the words of Guatimozin,” he continued, with a dignity of bearing that might have become a Spartan envoy in the camp of the Persian; ”thus says the king: 'What is the Lord of Castile, that Guatimozin should call him master? what is Malintzin, that Guatimozin should make him his friend? The Teuctli burns my cities, murders my children, and spits in the face of my G.o.ds. His religion is murder, his law robbery: he is strong, yet very unjust; he is wise, yet he makes men mad. Guatimozin has called together the chiefs and the planters of corn, the wise men and the foolish, the strong and the feeble, the old men, the women and the children. He has spoken to them, and they have replied: 'Is not the sword better than the whip? is not the arrow softer than the brand? is not the f.a.got of fire pleasanter than the chain of captivity? is not death sweeter than slavery?' Thus says the old man,--'I am old; wherefore, then, should I be a slave for a day?' Thus says the little infant,--'I am a little child; why should I be a slave for many years?' This, then, is the word of the whole people; it is Guatimozin who speaks it: 'If the G.o.ds desert me, what have I to yield but life? if they help me, as they have helped my fathers, what have I to do, but to drive away my foe? Let Malintzin look at my weapons, and put two plates of the black-copper of Castile on his bosom, for I am very strong in my sorrow, and I will strike very hard. Let Malintzin fear: the rebels of Tezcuco and Cholula, the traitors of Chalco and Otumba, are but straws to help him: can they look in the face of a Mexican? Let Malintzin fear: is he stronger than when he fled from Tenocht.i.tlan, in the month of Mourning?[15] has not Mexico more fighting men than when the horn of the G.o.ds sounded at midnight, and the Teuctli sat on the stone and wept?--on the stone of Tacuba, by the water-side, when the morning came, and his people slept in the ditches? If Malintzin will fight, so will Guatimozin.' These are the words of the king; these are the words of the people: they are said. The G.o.ds behold us.”
[Footnote 15: Embracing a portion respectively of June and July, and devoted to austere and penitential preparation for a coming festival.]
So spake the bold savage; and as if to show that even the basest and feeblest shared his courage, and sanctioned his defiance, the very Tlameme looked around them with a show of spirit, and the three old men expressed their satisfaction with audible murmurs.
The Spaniards were surprised at the fearless tones of the Lord of Death, and not a few were impressed with alarm as well as anger, when he referred so unceremoniously to the events of the fatal Noche Triste. As for Cortes himself, though the frown with which he listened to the whole oration, had become darker and darker as the warrior-n.o.ble proceeded, yet, apparently, he had become sensible, both from the tenor of the discourse and the resolute bearing of the speaker, that it should be answered with gravity rather than anger. Hence, when he came to reply, it was in terms briefly impressive and solemn:
”My young brother Guatimozin is unwise, and he is digging the grave of his whole people. He has evil counsellors about him. I have somewhat to say to him; and, to-morrow, you shall be sent back with an answer, which will perhaps dispel his foolish dream of resistance.”--He observed that the Lord of Death looked displeased and even alarmed, when the interpreter made him sensible that he was to be detained until the morrow. ”Be not alarmed,” he continued, sternly: ”when didst thou ever hear of a Christian aping the treachery of thy native princes, and doing wrong to an amba.s.sador? I tell thee, fellow, infidel though thou be, I will do thee honour, in respect of thy young master. To-morrow thou shalt eat at my board, for it is a day of banqueting; and to-morrow, also, shalt thou be made acquainted with my answer to the king's message, which it is not possible I should speak to-day. Rest you then content.--Hark thee, Villafana,” (for the Alguazil had returned,) ”have thou charge of this bitter-tongued knave and his dumb companions.
Entreat them well, but see that they neither escape nor communicate with anyone in this army, Christian or misbeliever. And look well to thy prison too.--This knave, Techeechee,--bring him to me when thou changest guards at the prison.”
Then, breaking up the audience, he remained for a time in conference with a few of the chief officers, debating subjects of great importance, but which would be of no interest to the readers of this history.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Some two hours after nightfall, as the unhappy Lerma lay in darkness and solitude, (for Befo was no longer permitted to be his companion,) the door of the prison opened, and the Alguazil, Villafana, entered, bearing a lantern, which emitted just sufficient light to allow his features to be distinguished, together with what seemed a flask of wine--a luxury now to be occasionally obtained, since vessels arrived not unfrequently from the islands.
”How now, what cheer, senor?” he exclaimed, setting down the flask upon the table, and turning the light full upon Juan's face; ”are you saying your prayers? Here's that shall give you better comfort,--something from the vineyards of Xeres de la Frontera,--stout Sherry, that shall make your heart bounce, were it broken twice over.--Come, faith, it will make you merry.”
”I shall never be merry more,” said Juan; ”and why should I? It is better I should not. I thank you for your good-will, Villafana; but I would that, instead of this wine, if it be not contrary to your duty, you would fetch me the good father Olmedo, to finish the confession, begun upon the block, and so abruptly interrupted, this morning.”
”Pho, be not in such a hurry: you have time enough. The priest is busy, and knowing he must shrive you to-morrow, he will be ill inclined to trouble himself superfluously to-night. Come, sit up, drink, laugh, and curse thy foes. Come, now,--a merry G.o.d's blessing! may you live a thousand years!--Dzoog! bah! dzoog!--Now could I fight seven tigers!”
”It is better thou shouldst drink it than I,” said Juan, observing the strong and somewhat fantastic gestures with which the Alguazil expressed his approbation, after having taken a hearty draught of the liquor; ”yet bethink thee, Villafana,--”
”'Slid!” interrupted the jailer, ”bethink thyself! and bethink thee that this will make thee a good fellow of a warhorse mettle, whereas, now, thou art but a sick lambkin. What makes a beggar a king, hah? a tailor's 'prentice a Cid Ruy Diaz of Castile,--a doughty Campeador? Pho, there is more of this, and to-morrow it will flow: Dost thou not know, Don Demonios, our king, has invited us to a banquet to-morrow? Thou shalt hear this banquet spoken of for a thousand years. Ah, the good s.h.i.+p! the good s.h.i.+p! there is a better thing she brings us than wine.--But that is neither here nor there. Why dost thou not drink?”
”Am I not condemned to death for the infraction of a decree?” said Juan, somewhat sternly, for he thought he perceived in Villafana's levity a symptom of undue excitement; ”and dost thou not remember that there is a decree also against drunkenness? Thou hast suffered somewhat from this already.”
”Dost thou suppose there is a h.e.l.l?” said Villafana, with some such look as that which had appalled Juan, when he walked with him over the meadows beyond the city: ”For, if thou dost, know then, that I make my promise to the infernal fiend, to broil with him seven times seven thousand years, if I do not, with a stab for every lash, make up my reckoning with the man who degraded me! _Ojala_ and Amen!--So now, there's enough to keep thee quiet.--Hast thou any gall any where but in thy liver?”
”Thou art besotted, or insane, I think,” said Juan, angrily. ”I am a dying man: begone, and suffer me to make my peace with heaven.”
”Come, you think I am drunk,” said Villafana, somewhat more rationally: ”I grant you; but it is with a stuff stronger than strong drink;--ay, faith, for, to-morrow, I see my way to heaven!--Answer me, truly: have you no thirst for vengeance on those who have brought you to this pa.s.s?--You see I am sober, hah? One would not die like a sheep.--You may play the wolf yet. What if you had an opportunity--”
”Tempt me not, knave,” said Juan, turning away his face--”Avoid thee, Satan!”