The Infidel; or, the Fall of Mexico. Vol. II.

"Let there be ill will and ill words between us no more; for who knows what may come to us to-morrow? I know what is said of Juan Lerma. He is with the infidels – but what drove him among them? He is a renegade, too, – yet what made him so? He teaches the enemy to cut ditches and throw up ramparts, to lay ambushes and attack ships, and a thousand other feats and stratagems, not to be looked for among barbarians. This they say, – all say; and some swear they have seen him, in a Mexican cloak, fighting at the head of the pagans, and knew him by his stature and voice. Let us believe all this – What then? Bernal, it is a thought that preys upon me, remembering his honour, his goodness, and truth, – and this it is, – that a damnable malice has driven him, against his own will, into the den of perdition. Hark thee, here, in thine ear – Thou rememberest the expedition to the South Sea? Before that, thou knowest, I was in great favour with Cortes, whom I loved well, for he had done me many good deeds in Cuba. About that time, Juan Lerma lost favour, and no one knew why; for as to censuring the indignities offered to Montezuma, that was a crime committed by some hundreds besides, who were never punished. The cause, Bernal, the true cause, – I would I might tell thee the true cause: but I swore an oath never to breathe it to mortal man. But this I may speak, (and thou must afterwards forget it.) I see things more clearly than I did before; and methinks, this night, mine eyes are further opened. I see very well, that we are all deluded and abused, and Juan Lerma an innocent man. Hearken then to what I say. One night, Cortes came to me, looking more like a demon than a man, and he said to me, 'Gaspar Olea, thou must kill me a snake, that has stung me upon the breast.' And with that he told me a thing, which I cannot speak; but this followed – I agreed that I would kill Juan Lerma."

"Thou art beside thyself, Gaspar!" said Bernal, with the utmost astonishment.

"I had good reason given to me," continued Olea; "and at that time I had but little acquaintance with the young man, and no love; and I was bound very strongly to Cortes. Understand me, Bernal: I did not consent to play the part of an assassin, for that was no part for Gaspar Olea. But being convinced the thing was just, and that the young man was a knave deserving death, I agreed to exasperate him into a quarrel; wherein I appeased my conscience, by thinking of the risk I ran, he being reckoned very good at all weapons. But what dost thou think? The very next night comes me Cortes again, with quite another story. 'Gaspar,' said he, 'the thing I told thee was false, and I have done the young man a wrong. Wherefore, quarrel with him not, and forget what I have told thee;' adding many things which satisfied my mind, that the youth was an innocent man, very basely slandered. This caused me to think well of him; and I consented to go with him to the South Sea. There, Bernal, I learned to love him, for he was brave, and noble, and good; – ay, by my faith, I loved him better than ever I had loved the general. But 'What then?' you will say; 'Whereto tends this?' To this – and it is damnable to think upon: The General deceived me, – he repented having made me his confidant; but he still longed for the blood of Juan Lerma. Hence the South Sea scheme, devised for our destruction – (At this moment, I see it plainly,) – for Juan's, because of the General's hate, and for mine, Bernal, because he had confided to me a secret of which he was ashamed. Ay, by my faith! he repented him that passion had made him so indiscreet; and therefore designed to put me out of the way. The soldiers have a story that he was angry with me for some freedom of speech. This is false. He smiled on me to the last, and thus lulled my fears. Neither Juan nor myself had any suspicion of evil intentions. He made it appear, that the expedition was given to us, because of his regard for our courage; and he deigned to tell me in secret, that his chief reason for sending Lerma, was that he might be angered no longer by his censures, – Juan being then very melancholy and peevish, in consequence of the death of some old companion he had killed in Española. But, Bernal, he deceived us both, as I can now see clearly. He made it appear to the soldiers, that he was sorry to punish Juan – Nay some said he shed tears, among the Indians, when he signed the death-warrant. But this was hypocrisy. I know that he was rejoiced; for he remembered the old cause, and abhorred him."

"Marry," said Bernal Diaz, "it cannot be doubted he did. But the cause, Gaspar? I do not ask thee, what it was: but was it enough to excuse such rancour?"

"If true, yes," replied Gaspar, with deep emphasis: "But it was not true. Juan was innocent. I have probed his heart a thousand times, while we were in the desert together, and when he knew not what I was doing. He has not wronged Cortes – no, nor any other living creature. This I told the General, when we returned to Tezcuco, after the campaign round the lake. But what wouldst thou think? He averred that he had forgot the thing; – that it was very foolish; – a groundless slander brought against Juan by an enemy; – that he loved him as well as ever, and proceeded against him only on account of broken laws and decrees; – that he durst not pardon him, since his affection was well known, (his affection, Bernal!) and the men would cry out against his favouritism. I knew he spoke falsely, and so I told him. He hardened my heart; and then I ran to Villafana, who had the power to save him, and promised to make him our chief captain."

"Now that you speak of Villafana," said Bernal, "it reminds me of this: Why, had Juan Lerma been a man of honour and a Christian, should he have joined in the murderous plots of that detestable traitor?"

"Thou shouldst ask that of me," said Gaspar, fiercely. "But it matters not. Who says that Juan Lerma joined him? Najara avers that he kept them from speech together; and Luis Rafaga, who died of the wounds he got among the piraguas, a week since, declared to his comrades as well as the priest, (and being of the prison-guard, he knew all,) that Juan fought in the prison with Villafana, about the list, the very night that Villafana was hanged, and would have been killed, but for the coming of La Monjonaza. I saw the traitor, myself, when he came among the cavaliers; and he was hurt in the shoulder. Does this look like joining him? Trust me, Bernal, we have done a great wrong to my young captain; and I cannot die, without thinking that I leave behind me one man, at least, to do him justice. This is what I say: – Not his crime, but the general's secret malice, has driven him among the infidels. He is a prisoner with them, or perhaps he has already died the death of sacrifice. They lie, who say they have seen, or will see him in arms against us. On this I will gage my life; and I pray heaven to take it, the moment the pledge is forfeited! I swear it – Amen."

The worst point in the character of a dog, is that, in all the quarrels betwixt others of his species, he always takes part against the feebler. In this particular, he is sometimes aped by his master, – not, indeed, in an absolute conflict between man and man; for ninety in a hundred will, in such case, befriend the weaker party, – but in those combats which an individual wages with an evil destiny. Ill thoughts naturally follow upon ill luck; and it is the curse of misfortune to be followed by ungenerous suspicion and still more odious crimination. As the whole army were acquainted with the manner of Juan's flight, or rather captivity, they did not hesitate to believe him up in arms against them; and every repulse which they endured from the barbarians, they traced to the malignance and activity of the exile's treason. Fear and invention together clothed him with the vestments of a fallen angel; and if some savage, more gigantic and ferocious than the rest, distinguished himself in the front of battle, straightway a dozen voices invoked curses upon the head of the unhappy Lerma. There were few who did not forget his sorrows and wrongs, and speak of him only with execrations; and many had already begun to anticipate, as the chief triumph of victory, and the most delightful of all their hopes, the privilege of burning him alive on the temple-top, or even sacrificing him to their vengeance, after the equally horrific manner of the Mexicans.

While Bernal Diaz was thus conversing with the outcast's only friend, there came from the distant gates of Xoloc, a suppressed hum, as of an army arising from its slumbers. This was soon followed by the sound of heavy bodies of men, approaching over the causeway; and it soon became evident, that the morn was to be ushered in with the usual horrors of contention.

"Up, knaves!" cried the voice of the hunchback, "ye grumbling, growling, wallowing, swine, that call yourselves lions and tigers! up, and shake the clay from your cloaks, before it is trodden off by the hoofs of the horsemen!"

As he spoke, a cavalier galloped up to the party, and drawing in his steed, while the men rose to their feet, he exclaimed,

"Halon, Najara, man! where art thou? Dost thou talk thus in thy sleep?"

"Ay, may it please your excellency," said the hunchback, recognizing the voice of Cortes; "for it is well, on such a post, that a soldier should have the faculty of issuing commands asleep, as well as waking."

"Dost thou hear, Diaz?" muttered Gaspar in his companion's ear. "Wouldst thou think now to what the devil has tempted me, ever since I have seen clearly that of which I have spoken? I tell thee, man, I have sometimes thought it were but a turn of good friendship, to kill the man who has brought these things upon Juan Lerma!"

"Thou art mad!" said the historian in alarm. But his further remonstrance was cut short by Cortes riding by, and even urging his charger, though at a cautious pace, beyond the watchfire, as if to reconnoitre with his own eyes, the situation of the foe.

"Fear me not," said Gaspar, bitterly. "You shall see me do what I have done before at Xochimilco, – pluck him out of the jaws of the devourers, if need be. I think I was then enchanted; for, when I saw the Indians have him off his horse, I said to myself, 'If I let him die now, no harm happens to Juan Lerma.' But come – let us follow after him. And bid some of your dull sluggards along with us, lest the pagans should make a sally from the rampart. Hark! he has ridden up, till their fire shines on his armour, and they see him! He will have the villains upon us, before the reinforcements arrive!"

The Captain-General did, indeed, advance so far that he was seen by the pagan sentinels, who whistled out a shrill note of alarm, and then bent their bows against him, till his corslet and the iron buckler which he carried before his face, rattled under the crashing arrowheads. Thus admonished, he rode a little back, and was joined by three or four other cavaliers, who came galloping up from the causeway.

"What say ye, cavaliers?" he cried. "Methinks there is not even a duck lying near the causey-side, much less a brace or two of my brigantines."

"If your excellency be looking for the ships," said Najara, "I can satisfy your mind. There were some five or six here an hour since: I heard the plunging of their anchors on both sides of the dike."

"Ah! I will set thine ears against mine eyes any dark morn, Corcobado. – Fetch up the Indians, Quinones; and bid the horsemen follow at their heels. And hark ye, Najara, – let your drowsy knaves take post on the causey-sides, lest they be trampled to death under the feet of my red pioneers. Wheel up the pieces some ninety or an hundred paces in advance; and see that your matchsticks be dry and combustible. Where didst thou hear the sound of the anchors?"

"But a little distance on the lake; and methinks I can see two of the vessels on the left, betwixt us and the Indians. – His valour, Don Garci Holguin, did but now take up the señor Guzman – "

"A pest upon Guzman!" said the general, sharply. "Get thee to thy men, and move me the ordnance without delay."

"'A pest upon Guzman?'" muttered Gaspar. "I have a thought of him also; but I know not that he has done Juan a wrong. At all events, methinks, his case is like mine. – The general's secrets are unlucky."

With that, he retired, and took post among the soldiers.

In a few moments, a numerous body of Indian auxiliaries made their appearance, bearing, besides their ordinary weapons, which were slung on their backs, certain hoes and mattocks, called coas, some of stone, others of copper, but most of them of some hard wood. It was the business of these men to fill up the ditches, after the defenders had been driven away by a fierce cannonade from the ships, and by incessant discharges of stones and arrows from fleets of piraguas, manned by other Indian confederates, which lay near the brigantines. And here it may be observed, that the labour of filling a ditch was much inferior to that of re-opening it; and the causeways being constructed of stones as well as clay, it was not possible to remove the former to any great extent. Hence, the gaps that had been once or twice filled, remained, notwithstanding the toil of the besieged, so shallow, that they might, at almost any period, be forded; though this, usually, was not done, until they were filled above the level of the water.

Immediately after these pioneers, came a small body of horsemen, behind whom were ranged the lancers and swordsmen; the musketeers and cross-bowmen being chiefly distributed among the ships.

These arrangements having been made, and the Tlascalans halting within the distance of two hundred paces from the ditch, and throwing themselves flat upon their faces on the causeway, to guard against the first volleys of the foe, all were directed to remain in repose, until the coming daylight should give the signal for battle.

Nothing now broke the silence of the hour, save the dropping sound of paddles from two numerous squadrons of canoes, filled with allies, which were stationed on the flanks of the rear.

CHAPTER XIV

Slowly the morning dawned; and the foremost Tlascalan, raising his head from the earth, could behold, dimly relieved against an atmosphere of mist, the outlines of the foe, yet loitering upon the rampart behind the ditch, and warming his naked body, for the last time, over his smouldering fire. And now, also, were seen the brigantines, four in number, which had taken post, long before day, on either flank of the ditch, while a line of well-manned piraguas extended some distance beyond them.

The savages gathered up their arms, and leaping upon the ramparts, shook them with defiance at the besiegers, taunting them with such words of opprobrium as marked both their hatred and resolution.

"Ho-ah! ho-ah! What says the king of Castile? what says the king of Castile?" they cried, – for all the offers of peace and composition, (sent occasionally by the hands of liberated captives,) being made by Cortes in the name of his master, the barbarians prefaced every defiance by expressing their contempt for his authority, – "what says the king of Castile? He is a woman, – he shows not his face, – he is a woman. What says Malintzin? what says Malintzin? He calls for peace, – he is a coward: he fights in the house, when his foe is a prisoner, but he calls for peace, when Mexico comes out upon the causeways. What say the Teuctlis, – the Spaniards, – the sons of the gods? They bring the Tlascalans, to fight their battles, – the Tlascalans, the Tezcucans, the Chalquese, and the other little dogs of Mexico. Their flesh is very bitter, and their hearts sour: the mitzlis and ocelotls, the wolves and the vultures, in the king's garden, say, 'Give us better food, for this is the flesh of crocodiles.' What say the men of Tlascala? They are slaves, – they say they are slaves, and what matters it where they fight? If Malintzin prevail, wo for Tlascala! for he will scourge her with whips, and burn her with brands, even from the old man with gray hairs down to the little infant that screams: If Mexico be victorious, wo for Tlascala! for we will strike her down with our swords, as we strike the maize-stalks in the harvest-field. Ho-ah! ho-ah! Come on, then, ye women, cowards, and slaves! for we are Mexicans, and our gods are hungry!"

With such ferocious exclamations, the bold barbarians provoked the besiegers; and with such they were used, each morning, to incite them to the work of slaughter.

The Spaniards still stood fast, and the Tlascalans lay upon the earth, receiving the arrows that were for awhile shot at them; until the Mexicans, exhausting their voices with outcries, at last ceased to continue them, and assumed an attitude as quiescent as that of their foes.

While they thus remained, each party staring the other in the face, and the rapidly increasing light made it evident that a very considerable multitude of infidels were gathered upon the dike, a trumpet was winded behind the Tlascalans, in one single, prolonged, and powerful note, that woke up the echoes of mountains, even at the distance of leagues. It was answered, first from the west, from the dike of Tacuba, in a blast both strong and cheery, and immediately after, though much more faintly, from the northern causeway, where Sandoval was marshalling his forces.

As soon as these signals, for such they were, had been exchanged between the leaders, the trumpet of Cortes sounded again, with a succession of short, sharp, and fierce notes, such as blast fury into men's hearts, through their ears. Instantly, and as if by enchantment, the four falconets in the brigantines were discharged, and swept hundreds of the barbarians from the causeway. Then followed the rattle of musketry, mingled with the clang of cross-bows; which din was continued, until the gunners, loading again, discharged their pieces a second time upon the enemy. And now the Tlascalan pioneers, springing up, rushed, with wild yells to the ditch, which they began to fill with frantic speed.

Notwithstanding the boldness of their defiance, the Mexicans made a much less manly resistance than was expected. But they stood as long as any human beings could do, exposed between two deadly batteries, both plied with unexampled activity, and both strengthened by the addition of the native archers in the piraguas. They handled their bows and slings as they could, and they cheered one another with shouts; but it was evident that they must soon give way, and take post behind some ditch unapproachable by the brigantines.

As soon as this became known, the Spanish foot-soldiers began to encourage one another, in anticipation of the charge which they were soon to be called on to make; and Bernal Diaz, losing his grave equanimity, in the prospect of adding another leaf to his chaplet of immortality, ran briskly to and fro, in virtue of his official rank, which could scarce be defined in any one title of modern military nomenclature, and cheered every soldier with whom he happened to be well acquainted. In the course of his rounds, he fell upon Gaspar, from whom he had been before separated, and whom he now seized by the hand, crying,

"Now, Gaspar, my dear brother of Medina del Campo, we shall have such a rouse among the red infidels as will make posterity stare."

He was then about to extend his exhortations to others, when Gaspar arrested him, turning upon him, to his great surprise, a countenance extremely pale and agitated.

"Art thou sick, man?" cried the historian, "or art thou worn out with watching? A few knocks, Gaspar, will soon warm thy blood."

"Bernal," said his friend, with an unnatural laugh, "wert thou ever in fear?"

"In fear?" echoed Bernal Diaz. "Never, before an infidel; – never, at least, but once, when they had me in their hands, and I thought they were carrying me to the temple."

"What were thy feelings then?" demanded Gaspar, with singular eagerness: "Was there ice in thy bosom, and lead in thy brain? Were thy lips cold and thy tongue hot? Did thy hand shake, thy teeth chatter, thy leg fail? – Faugh! what should make me fear to go into battle?"

"Fear! thou fear?" said Bernal, anxiously. "Thou art beside thyself, never believe me else, – frenzied with over-watching."

"I tell thee," said Gaspar, with a grin that was indeed expressive of terror, "that, if thou hunt this whole army through, thou wilt not find a white-livered loon of them all, who is, at this moment, more a coward than myself. Why should I be so? Is there an axe at my ear, and a foot on my breast? There are an hundred stout Spaniards, and thirty score Tlascalans betwixt me and the foe; and yet I am in great terror of mind. I have heard that such things are forewarnings!"

"If thou art of this temper, indeed," said honest Bernal, with more disgust than he cared to conceal, "get thee to the rear, in God's name, and thou mayst light somewhere upon a flask of maguey-liquor. Shame upon thee, man! canst thou be so faint-hearted?"

"Ay!" replied Gaspar; "yet I go not to the rear, notwithstanding. I thought thou shouldst have counselled me. – Fare thee well, then, Bernal. – Thou dost not know, that one can be in terror of death, and yet meet death without flinching. Fare thee well, brother; and what angry things I have said to thee, forget, even for the sake of our early days. Fare thee well, Bernal, fare thee well."

The Barba-Roxa locked his friend in a warm embrace, kissed him on both cheeks, and then starting away, rushed towards the front, with an alacrity that seemed utterly to disprove his humbling confession. Whether or not fear had, indeed, for the first time in his life, beset him, it is certain that Gaspar Olea did, that day, achieve exploits which eclipsed those of the most distinguished cavaliers, and consecrated his memory for ever in the hearts of his comrades.

The Tlascalans, working with furious zeal, had now so choked up the ditch, that stones and earth already appeared above the water. The Mexicans wavered, and seemed incapable of maintaining their post for a moment longer.