Calavar; or, The Knight of The Conquest, A Romance of Mexico

"There is much wisdom in what thou sayest, as I begin now to perceive," said Amador, dismounting and giving his steed to Lazaro: "'tis better to be over-warm with marching on foot, than turned into an icicle on horseback. My father!" he said, gently and affectionately, to Calavar, "wilt thou not descend, and warm thyself a little with exercise?" But the knight only replied with a melancholy and bewildered stare, which convinced the novice that entreaty and argument upon this subject, as, at present, upon all others, would be alike unavailing. Sighing therefore, and, with a gesture, directing Baltasar to assume his station at the side of Don Gabriel, he took the page by the hand, and removing to a little distance from the group as well as from all other persons, he walked on, entering into discourse with Jacinto.

"I do not marvel at thee, Jacinto," he said, "nor can I altogether censure thee, for grieving thus at the flight of thy father. Nor will I, as was, last night, my resolve, reprimand thee for leaving me, contrary to my bidding, at the chamber of my good knight; for, besides finding thee in grief enough at present, I perceive thou wert instigated to this disobedience by anxiety for thy parent, which would have excused in thee a greater fault. But let me ask thee, not so much as a master as a friend, two or three questions. – First, Jacinto," he continued, "art thou dissatisfied with thy service? or with thy master, who loves thee as well as myself?"

"Service – master! – Señor!" said the boy, confused.

"I demand of thee, art thou discontented with thy duties, or grieved by any unkindness which has been manifested to thee by thy master, or by any of us, who are his followers?"

"I cannot be discontented with my duties," said the boy, a little cheerfully, for it was not possible long to withstand the benevolence of his patron; – "I cannot be discontented with my duties; for, in truth, it seems to me, there are none imposed upon me, except such as are prompted by my own fancies. I am very skilless in the customs of service, never having been in service before; yet, señor, I like it so well, that with such masters, methinks, I could remain a contented servant to the end of my days. That is, – that is" – But here the page interrupted himself abruptly. "As for any unkindness, I own with gratitude, I have never received from my lord, from my master, nor from his people, any thing but great favour, as well as forgiveness for all my faults."

"Thou answerest well," said the novice gravely. "I did not apprehend anybody could treat thee rudely, except Lazaro, who is a rough fellow in his ways, and being in some sort a wit, is oft betrayed into saying sharp things, in order that people may laugh at them. Nevertheless, Lazaro has a good heart; for which reason I pardon many of his freedoms; but, I vow to thee, though he is a brave soldier, and albeit it is opposed to all my feelings and principles to degrade a serving-man by blows, nevertheless, had I found him venting his wit upon thee, I should have been tempted to strike him even with the hardest end of my lance."

"I never had a better friend than Lazaro," said the page, with a faint smile; "and I love him well, for he affects my singing, and praises me more than anybody else. Then, as for Marco and Baltasar, though they delight more in cleaning armour than listening to a lute; – and as for the secretary, señor Lorenzo, who cares for nothing but tilting with any one who will take the trouble to unhorse him, – they are all good-natured to me, and they never scold me."

"This, then, being the case," said Amador, "and allowing thy first and most natural obedience to be to thy father, rather than to a master, how dost thou excuse to thyself the intention of deserting the service of thy friends, without demanding permission, or at least acquainting us with thy desires."

"Señor!" exclaimed Jacinto, surprised and embarrassed.

"It is known to me, that such was thy resolution," said the cavalier, with gravity; "for it was so confessed to me, last night, by thy father. But, indeed, though I cannot avoid expressing my displeasure at such intention, which seems to me both treacherous and ungrateful, I led thee aside less to scold thee, than to give thee intelligence of Abdalla, I myself being, as I think, the last Christian that beheld him."

"Oh, señor! and he escaped unharmed?" cried the boy.

"Verily without either bruise or wound, save that which was made on his soul, when I reproached him for deserting thee."

"I am deserted by all!" exclaimed Jacinto, clasping his hands.

"For the thousandth time, I tell thee, no!" said his patron: "And thy father made it apparent to me he abandoned thee unwillingly; nor would he leave me, though the pursuers were approaching fast, until he had exacted of me the very superfluous vow, that I would give thee a double protection from all wrong and injustice. Dry thy tears: I have already obtained of Cortes a promise of full pardon for Abdalla, when he returns to us, as doubtless he will, at Tenochtitlan."

"I hope so! I pray he may!" said Jacinto, hurriedly; "or what, oh! what shall become of us!"

"I will have him sought out, and by-and-by take thee, and him along, to Cuenza. 'Tis hard by to Granada."

The boy remained silent, and Amador continued: —

"Thy father also showed me, that it was thy faithful love, in remaining by my kinsman during a swoon, which prevented thee from escaping with him. This, though it does not remove the fault of thy design, entirely forces me to pardon it; and indeed, Abdalla did as much as acknowledge thou wert averse to the plan."

"Señor, I was: for though our degradation was great, I knew not how much greater it might be among the pagans."

"Degradation! dost thou talk of degradation! In good faith, thou surprisest me!"

"Señor," said the boy, proudly, "though you will deride such vanity in poor barbarians of the desert, yet did we ever think ourselves, who had always been free and unenslaved, debased by servitude. At least, my father thought so; and I myself, though speedily solaced by the kindness which was shown me, could not but sometimes think it had been better to have perished with my father in the sea, along with our unhappy people, than to remain as I was, – and as I am, – a servant in the house of my master!"

"A silly boy art thou, Jacinto," said Amador, surveying him with surprise: "for, first, thy office as the page of a most noble and renowned knight, is such a one as would be coveted by any grandee's son, however noble, who aspired to the glory of arms and knighthood; and I admonish thee, that, had not his infirmity driven Don Gabriel from Spain entirely without the knowledge of his servants, thou shouldst have seen the son of a very proud and lofty nobleman attending him in the very quality which thou thinkest so degrading. I did myself, though very nearly related to him, and though sprung of such blood as acknowledges none superior, not even in the king that sits on the throne, enter first into his service in the same quality of page; and, trust me, I esteemed it great honour. In the second place, I marvel at thee, having already confessed that thy service is both light and pleasant."

"It is even so, señor," said the boy, meekly, "and I am not often so foolish as to repent me. It was not because I thought so yesternight, but because my father bade me, that I strove to escape from it; for he was in danger, or feared he was, and it was my duty to follow him without repining."

"I come now to ask thee another question," said the neophyte. "By what good fortune was it, that thou stumbledst upon my kinsman, among the ruins of that profane pyramid?"

"It was there, señor, that the princes met us."

"Hah! Oh, then, thou wert plotting with my bold prince, hah! Faith, a very valiant pagan! and in no wise resembling the varlets of Cuba. If thou knowest aught of these men that may concern our leader to know, it will be thy duty to report the same to him Jacinto, and that without delay."

"Nothing, señor," said the page, hastily. "I discovered that my father was to fly with the ambassadors; that he was to seek them at the pyramid; and it was there we found my master swooning."

"Didst thou see aught there that was remarkable, or in any way inexplicable?"

"I saw my lord fainting, my father and the princes flying, and the soldiers pursuing and shooting both with cross-bow and musket."

"'Tis already," said the cavalier, turning his eye askaunt to Don Gabriel, "yet I know not by what revealment, whispered through the army, that my kinsman saw a spectre, – some devilish fiend, that, in the moment of his doubt, struck him to the earth!"

"Ay!" said Jacinto, turning towards the knight, and eyeing him with a look of horror; "he thought 'twas Zayda, whom he slew so barbarously among the Alpujarras!"

The cavalier laid his hand upon Jacinto's shoulder, sternly, —

"What art thou saying? – what art thou thinking? Hast thou caught some of the silly fabrications of the soldiers? I warn thee to be guarded, when thou speakest of thy master."

"He confessed it to me!" said the page, trembling but not at the anger of his patron. "He killed her with his own hands, when she screened from his cruel rage her husband Alharef, his vowed and true friend!"

"Peace! – thou art mad! – 'Twas the raving of his delirium. – There is no such being as Zayda."

"There is not, but there was," said Jacinto, mournfully.

"And how knowest thou that?" demanded Amador, quickly. "Thou speakest as if she had been thy kinswoman. Art thou indeed a conjuror? There is no dark and hidden story, with which thou dost not seem acquainted!"

"She was of my tribe," said Jacinto, mildly, though tremulously, returning the steadfast gaze of his patron: "I have heard my father speak of her, for she was famous among the mountains. Often has he repeated to me her sorrowful story, – how she drew upon herself the anger of her tribe, by preserving their foe, and how their foe repaid her by – oh heaven! by murdering her! Often have I heard of Zayda; but I knew not 'twas Calavar who killed her!"

"Can this be true?" said Amador, looking blankly towards his unconscious kinsman. "Is it possible my father can have stained his soul with so foul, so deadly, so fearful a crime! And he confessed it to thee? to thee, a boy so foolish and indiscreet that thou hast already babbled it to another?"

"I could not help speaking it this time," said Jacinto, humbled at the reproach; "but if my lord will forgive me, I will never speak it more."

"I do forgive thee, Jacinto, as I hope heaven will my father. This then is the sin unabsolved, the action of wrath, the memory of sorrow, that has slain the peace of my kinsman? May heaven have pity on him, for it has punished him with a life of misery. I forgive thee, Jacinto: speak of this no more; think of it no more; let it be forgotten – now and for ever, – Amen! – I have but one more question to ask thee; and this I am, in part, driven to by thy admission of the most wondrous fact, that Don Gabriel confessed to thee his secret. Many of thine actions have filled me with wonder; thy knowledge is, for thy years, inexplicable; and thou minglest with thy boyish simplicity the shrewdness of years. Dost thou truly obtain thy knowledge by the practice of those arts, which so many allow to be possessed by Botello?"

"Señor!" exclaimed the boy, startled by the abruptness of the question.

"Art thou, indeed, an enchanter, as Yacub charged thee to be? – Give me to understand, for it is fitting I should know."

The exceeding and earnest gravity with which the cavalier repeated the question, dispelled as well the grief as the fears of the page. He cast his eyes to the earth, but this action did not conceal the humour that sparkled in them, while he replied, —

"If I were older, and had as much acquaintance with the people as Botello, I think I could prophesy as well as he; especially if my lord Don Hernan would now and then give me a hint or two concerning his designs and expectations, such as, it has been whispered, he sometimes vouchsafes to Botello. I have no crystal-imp like him indeed, but I possess one consecrated gem that can call me up, at any time, a thousand visions. It seems to me, too, that I can recall the dead; for once or twice I have done it, though very much to my own marvelling."

"Thou art an enigma," said Don Amador. "What thou sayest of Botello, assures me the more of thy subtle and penetrating observation; what thou sayest of thyself, seems to me a jest; and yet it hath a singular accordance, as well with my own foolish fancies and the charges of that Moorish menial, as with the events of the two last nights. Either there is, indeed, something very supernatural in thy knowledge, or the delirium of my kinsman is a disease of the blood, which is beginning to assail my own brain. God preserve me from madness! Hearken in thine ear, (and fear not to answer me:) – Hadst thou any thing to do with the raising of the phantom thou callest Zayda? – or is it the confusion of my senses, that causes me to suspect thee of the agency?"

"Señor!" said the boy, in alarm, "you cannot think I was serious?"

"What didst thou mean, then, by acknowledging the possession of that consecrated and vision-raising jewel?"

"I meant," responded the youth, sadly, "that, being a gift associated with all the joys of my happiest days, I never look at it, or pray over it, without being beset by recollections, which may well be called visions; for they are representations of things that have passed away."

"And the story of Leila? – Pho – 'tis an absurdity! – I have heard that the cold which freezes men to death, begins by setting them to sleep. Sleep brings dreams; and dreams are often most vivid and fantastical, before we have yet been wholly lost in slumber. Perhaps 'tis this most biting and benumbing blast, that brings me such phantoms. Art thou not very cold?"