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

The plan of retreat, determined after anxious deliberation, and carefully made known to all, was adopted with readiness, as these footsteps and this rolling sound of wheels, – the only signals made, – were heard; each man knew his place, and, without delay, assumed it. In little more than half an hour, the whole train of invaders, Christian principals and Tlascalan abettors, was in motion, creeping, with the slow and stealthy pace of malefactors, over the street that led to the dike of Tacuba. Few glances were sent back to the palace, as those dim sheets of lightning, flashing up over the path they were pursuing, revealed obscurely, ever and anon, its broken and deserted turrets. Its gloomy pile associated nothing but the memory of disaster and grief. Fearful looks, however were cast upon the dusky fabrics on either side of the street, as if the fugitives apprehended that each creak of a wheel, each clattering of horses' hoofs, or the rattling of armour, might draw the infidel from his slumbers; and many an ear was directed anxiously towards the van, in fear lest the trumpet should, at last, be sounded, with the signal of enemies already drawn up, a thousand deep, on the path they were treading. But no sounds were heard, save those which denoted the continued progress of their own bands; no wakeful barbarian was seen lurking in the streets; and hope again slowly returned to the bosoms of the tremblers.

Before they had yet reached the borders of the island, the night became still more dark than at their outset; for the lightning grew fainter at each flash, and finally sank beneath the horizon, to continue its lurid gambols among the depths of the South Sea. This was witnessed with secret satisfaction; for, with these treacherous scintillations, departed the dread that many felt, lest they should betray the march of the army.

It has been mentioned, that the people of Tenochtitlan had not only covered the surface of the island with their dwellings, but had extended them, on foundations of piles, into the lake, wherever the shallowness of the water permitted. This was especially the case in the neighbourhood of the great dikes; in which places, not only single houses, but entire blocks, deserving the name of suburbs, were constructed. Such a suburb jutted out, for some distance, along the causeway of Tacuba.

The van of the army had already passed beyond the furthest of these black and silent structures, and yet no just cause existed to suppose the retreat had been discovered; though many men of sharper ears or fainter hearts than their fellows, had averred that they could, at times, distinguish, on the rear, a dull sound, as of men moving behind them in heavy masses. The wiser, however, were satisfied, that no such sounds could prevail even over the subdued noise of their own footsteps; but some of these bent their ears anxiously towards the front, as if afraid of danger in that quarter. The reason of this was not concealed. All day, sounds of lamentation had been heard coming from the dike, upon which they were now marching, or from its neighbourhood. It was rumoured, that the cemetery of the Mexican kings lay on the hill of Chapoltepec, under the huge and melancholy cypresses, which overshadow that green promontory; and that there, this day, Montezuma had been laid among his ancestors. A whole people had gone forth to lament him; and how many of the mourners might be now returning by the causeway, was a question which disturbed the reflections of all.

But this apprehension was dispelled, when the front of the army had reached the first of the three ditches which intersected the dike of Tacuba. Its bridge was removed and gone, and the deep water lay tranquilly in the chasm. The foe, relying on this simple precaution, had left the dike to its solitude; and the expedient for continuing the imprisonment of the Spaniards, was the warrant of their security.

A little breeze, dashing occasionally drops of rain, began to puff along the lake, as the bridge-bearers deposited their burden over the abyss. This was not the labour of a moment; the heavy artillery, which still preceded the train of discomfited slayers, like a troop of jackals in the path of other destroyers, required that the ponderous frame should be adjusted with the greatest care. While the carriers, assisted by a body of Tlascalans, who slipped into the ditch and swam to the opposite side, were busy with their work, the long train of fugitives behind, halted, and remained silent with expectation. The rumbling of the wood over the flags of the causeway, the suppressed murmurs of the labourers, and, now and then, the dropping of some stone loosened by their feet, into the ditch, – added to the sighs of the breeze, whispering faintly over casque and spear, – were the only sounds that broke the dismal quiet of the scene; and there was something in these, as well as in the occurrence itself, which caused many to think of the characteristics of a funeral; – the mute and solemn expectation of the lookers-on, – the smothered expressions of the few, – and the occasional rattle of clods, dropping, by accident, upon the coffin.

The bridge was, at last, fixed, and the loud clang of hoofs was heard, as Cortes, himself, made trial of its strength. The breath of those behind, came more freely, when these sounds reached their ears; and they waited impatiently till the advance of those who preceded them, should give motion to their own ranks.

The post of Don Amador de Leste had been assigned, at his own demand, in the vanguard, – which was a force consisting of twenty horsemen, two hundred foot, and ten times that number of Tlascalan warriors, commanded by Sandoval, the valiant; and, up to this moment, he had ridden at that leader's side, without much thought of unhealed wounds and feebleness, willing, and fully prepared, to divide the danger and the honour of any difficulty, which might be presented. But being now convinced, by the sign we have mentioned, – that is to say, the removal of the original bridge, – that no enemies lay in wait on the causeway, he descended from the back of Fogoso, giving the rein to Lazaro, and commanding him to proceed onward with the party. In this, he was, perhaps, not so much governed by a desire to escape the tedium of riding in company with the ever taciturn Sandoval, as to be nearer to the forlorn boy, Jacinto, who had, until this moment, trudged along at his side. Some little curiosity to witness the passage of the rout of fugitives, had also its influence; for, taking the page by the hand, he led him to the edge of the bridge, where he could observe every thing without inconvenience, and without obstructing the course of others.

The dike of Tacuba was, like that of Iztapalapan, of stone, and so broad, that ten horsemen could easily ride on it abreast. Its base was broad, shelving, and rugged, and the summit was, perhaps, six feet above the surface of the water.

The thunder of the twenty horsemen, as they rode over the bridge, interrupted the consolation which the neophyte was about to give to Jacinto; who, hanging closely to his patron's arm, yet looked back towards the city, with many sobs for his exiled father. In the gloomy obscurity of the hour, the cavaliers of the van, as they passed, seemed rather like spectres than men; – in an instant of time, they were hidden from sight among the thick shadows in front. Not less phantom-like appeared the two hundred foot, stealing over the chasm, and vanishing like those who had preceded them. Then came the two thousand Tlascalans, their broken and drooping plumes rustling over their dusky backs, as they strode onwards, with steps quickened, but almost noiseless.

After these, came the cannon, – eighteen pieces of different sizes, dragged by rows of pagans, commanded by the gunners. The bridge groaned under their weight; and a murmur of joy crept over the compacted multitude behind, when they had counted them, one by one, rumbling over the sonorous wood, and knew that the last had crossed in safety.

Much time was necessarily occupied in the passage of these cumbrous instruments; and an interval of several minutes was allowed to intervene betwixt the passage of each, while the cannoniers were looking to the condition of the bridge and the ropes.

It was on these occasions, that the greatest quiet prevailed; for, then, even breath was hushed in suspense; and it was on these occasions also, that the ears of the neophyte were struck by a sound, which had not, perhaps, at that time, attracted the attention of any other person. The breeze, which occasionally whispered on his cheek, was so light, as scarcely to disturb the serenity of the lake; and yet, it appeared to him, notwithstanding all this, that, in these moments of calm, he could plainly distinguish, upon either hand, and at a little distance, the rippling of water, as if agitated by a moderate wind. He strained his eyes, endeavouring to pierce the gloom, and unravel the cause of this singular commotion, – but wholly in vain. The circle of vision was circumscribed into the narrowest bounds; and wo betide the infidel, who, fishing in the lake, that night, should fall from his canoe in slumber, and be parted from it but twenty feet, in his confusion. – The cavalier looked up to the heavens; but the few drops discharged from their stony vault, pattered with a sound almost inaudible upon the water. While he was yet wondering, he heard the voice of one passing him, say to a comrade, —

"Art thou not wroth, Iago, man, to give up yonder rich town to the kites, and this fair water to the ducks of Mexico?"

This trivial question gave, at once, a new colour to his thoughts, for he remembered what millions of wild fowl brooded every night on the lakes; and, almost ashamed that he should have yielded a moment to the suggestions of fear, he turned, once more, to watch the progress of the army.

The centre division consisted of but an hundred Christian footmen, and half a score cavaliers; but two thousand Tlascalans were added to it, and it was commanded by Cortes in person; who, having ridden across the bridge, as has been said, to prove its strength, now waited for the coming of his party, beyond the breach. Along with this division, were conducted the prisoners, and the king's spoil, – the latter being carried on the backs of wounded steeds, unfit for other service, as well as on the shoulders of Tlamémé. The prisoners, comprising all the family of Montezuma, whom evil fortune had thrown into the hands of Don Hernan, were environed by the hereditary foes of their race, but protected from any secret stroke of malice, by three or four cavaliers who rode with them.

Among these few horsemen, the neophyte perceived one, across whose saddle-bow there sat what seemed a female, enveloped in thick mantles. In this cavalier, he thought, by the murmur of the voice with which he addressed his muffled companion, that he detected his friend, the señor De Morla.

"Is it thou, Francisco, my brother?" he whispered, inclining towards the cavalier; "and hast thou Benita thus under thy protection?"

"I thank heaven, yes!" replied De Morla. "But what doest thou on foot, and so far removed from the van? Has Fogoso cast thee again? I prythee, walk thou by me a little. – Dost thou remember thy promise?"

"Surely, I do: but speak not of it now; for, this moment, my heart is very heavy, and I cannot think with pleasure of a contest with Christian man. I will presently follow thee."

"Speak me not what I have told thee to mortal man, for the sake of her whom I hold in my arms, and who already owes thee a life. To-morrow," he continued, exultingly, as he passed, – "to-morrow we shall tread upon the lake side; and, then, God be with him who strikes for the honour and innocence of woman!"

"Art thou there too, Lorenzo?" said the novice, perceiving the secretary riding at the heels of the young cavalier of Cuenza, and burthened in like manner with the freight of affection. "Guard thy princess well, and have great care of the bridge, and the rough edge of the dike; for thy horsemanship is not yet so perfect as De Morla's, nor can thy charger at all compare with the chestnut gelding. Ride on with care, and God be thy speed!"

The centre of the army was, at last, over the bridge. The neophyte cast his eye to the black mass of the rear-guard, which contained the greater part of the troops, both Christian and allied, commanded by Velasquez de Leon and the Tonatiuh; the latter of whom, to show his affection for the island of which he had been, as he said, a king, and to prove his contempt for his late subjects, chose to ride the very last man in the army; while De Leon conducted the front of the division. The latter, stern, decided, and self-willed in all cases, deferred, for a moment, to give the signal to march, in order that the centre might be well cleared of the bridge; but more, perhaps, from a natural love of tyranny, to torture with delay the spirits of his impatient followers.

In this moment of quiet, the sounds, which Don Amador had forgotten, were repeated with more distinctness than at first; but still they were of so vague a character, that he could not be certain they were produced by any cause more important than the diving and flapping of water-fowl. Nevertheless, feeling a little uneasiness, he clasped the hand of Jacinto tighter in his own, and strode with him over the bridge. He paused again, when he had crossed, and was about to give his whole attention to the mysterious sounds; when, suddenly, he was amazed and startled by the spectre of a man, rising up as from the lake, and springing on the causeway close by his side.

He drew his sword, demanding quickly, but with perturbation, —

"Who and what art thou, that comest thus from the depths of the waters?"

"Tetragrammaton! peace! – Dost thou not hear?"

"Hear what, sir conjurer? Hast thou been listening likewise to the wild fowl. By my troth, I thought thou wert a spirit!"

"Wild fowl!" muttered Botello, with a horse-laugh. "Such wild fowl as eat carrion, and flap the water like crocodiles. – Hah! dost thou not hear? Lay thine ear upon the causeway at the water's edge – But thou hast not time. Get thee to thy horse, and delay not; and if thou seest Cortes, or any other discreet cavalier, bid him draw and be ready. I said, that some should escape, but not all! – God be with thee! follow quickly, and sheath not thy sword."

"Surely, this time, thou art mad, Botello! Here are no foes."

But the remonstrance of the cavalier was cut short by the instant flight of the magician; and ere the words were out of his mouth, a horseman, crossing the bridge, and riding up to him, said sternly, —

"Who art thou, Sir Knave and Sir Witless! that babblest thus aloud, in time of peril, contrary to – "

"I am thy very good friend, señor De Leon," said the novice, abruptly; "and, waiving any difficulty which might spring from the heat of thy words, if duly considered, I think fit to assure thee, that I have but just parted from the necromancer, Botello; by whom I am advised to bid thee, as well as all other discreet officers whom I may see, to draw sword, and remain in readiness for a foe; there being certain sounds on the water, which, in his opinion, are ominous of evil. For myself, I bid God guard thee, meaning, in person, to join the van, as soon as possible."

The cavaliers parted, – De Leon riding back to his party, without uttering a word; and Don Amador, with the page, stepping forwards so fleetly, as soon to find himself among the Tlascalans of the centre. Through these he made his way, ever and anon casting his eye to the lake, and looking for the tokens of a foe, but without perceiving anything at all unusual. He gained the midst of this band of allies, reached the side of his friend, and laid his hand on De Morla's arm. A low wailing voice came from the folds of the garments, which veiled the countenance of Minnapotzin; and some strong agitation shook the frame of his friend.

"Think not of love now, my brother!" cried the neophyte, hurriedly; "but be warned that thou art in danger, and Minnapotzin with thee. It is thought, that enemies are at hand."

Having thus spoken, and without waiting for an answer, Don Amador, still urging Jacinto along, endeavoured to make his way through the dense bodies of Tlascalans, which separated him from Don Hernan. He reached their front, he stepped upon the little space left between them and the general, and placed his eyes upon Cortes. But before he had yet spoken, it seemed as if the whole moving mass of the army had been converted into marble, on the causeway; for instantly, as if with one consent, the train came to a dead halt, and a cry, low, but breathed from the hearts of men struck with mortal dread, rose from the van to the rear, in one universal groan.

The cavalier turned where all eyes were turned, and beheld a sudden pyramid of fire, like one of the many gushes of flame he had already seen in this volcanic land, save that the blaze was steadier, shoot up, from a vast height in the air, over the distant city, and plunge its sanguine point against the heavens; while, at the same moment, its lurid mass, reflected and reversed on the lake, darted over the water to his feet, in a path of blood, – as if Mexitli, the Terrible God, had, at last, roused from slumber, and couched his gigantic spear against the slayers of his children. The blaze illumined the lake far round, and, shining on the casques of cavaliers and the plumes of Tlascalans, disclosed the whole line of the army, stretched along the calzada. In an instant more, the neophyte, petrified with awe, perceived that this mighty bale-fire was kindled on the top of the great temple; and, in the strong and glaring line, which it struck out upon the water, there was revealed a mass of living objects, floating, like birds, upon the element, yet speckled with the human colours of Mexico. At the same moment, and while his eye yet wavered between the flaming pillar and the moving objects on the water, there came from the pyramid a sound, heard once before, and never more to be forgotten. The horn of the gods was winded; – the doleful and dismal note came booming with hideous uproar over the waters; and before the hills had caught up its echoes, the whole lake, right and left, in front and on the rear, rang, roared, and trembled, under the yells of an hundred thousand infidels.

CHAPTER LVIII

The situation of the Spaniards, at that moment, though sufficiently frightful to every one, was yet known, in all its horrors, only to the leaders of the van. As hope is ever independent of judgment, ever unreasonable and unreflective, the absence of the bridge, at the first sluice, was not enough to persuade the fugitives, that the passage of the second might be equally interrupted. But, at the moment when the signal-fire was kindled on the temple, Sandoval had already reached this ditch, and perceived that its bridge was also demolished, and, as it seemed, very recently too; for there yet remained a huge timber lying across the chasm, – left, as he feared, rather as some decoy and trap, than, as was more probable, deserted suddenly by workmen, scared from their labours by the approach of the Spaniards.

The three ditches divided the dike into four portions, of as many furlongs in extent. On the second of these portions was concentrated the whole retreating army, its front resting upon a sluice of great depth, passable by footmen, (for the great beam was soon discovered to be sound,) but not by the horse and artillery, without the portable bridge, which yet rested over the first breach. This second obstacle being overcome, it was apparent, that a third would still remain to be surmounted; and the passage of both was to be effected in the presence, and in the midst, of a great enemy.

As we have said, the beacon-light, shooting up from the pyramid, and continuing to burn with intensity, brought light, where all, before, was darkness; and revealed such innumerable fleets of canoes, hovering on both flanks, as the novice had not seen, even on that day when he first trode upon a dike of Mexico. But the spirit that then slumbered, was now awake; and as the rowers responded, with their wild cries, to the roar of the sacred trumpet, they struck the water furiously with their paddles, until the whole lake seemed to boil up with a spray of fire; and thus they rushed madly against the causeway.

The novice cast his eye upon the general. The ruddy glare of the beacon could not change the deadly pallor that covered his cheeks; but, nevertheless, with this ghastly countenance turned to the foe, he cried out, cheerily, or, at least, firmly, to those immediately in advance, —

"Who ho, cannoniers! your quoins and handspikes, your horns and matches! and show me your throats to the lake-rats!" Then, raising his voice to its trumpet-tones, he continued, as if giving counsel and command to all: "Be bold and fearless, and strike for the honour of God, brave Christians! Soho! De Leon, valiant brother! and thou, Alvarado, matchless cavalier! raise me the bridge, and be quick; for here we need it."

The voices of other officers were heard, faintly mingled with the din, but not long; every moment the shouts of the Mexicans, continued without intermission, became louder, and their canoes were plunging nearer to the causeway.

A pang rent the bosom of Don Amador:

"I must get me to my companions," he cried, to Jacinto, "and what can I do for thee this night, young page that I love?"

"I will follow thee," said the page, tremulously; "I will die with my lord."

"Would that I had thee but upon the back of Fogoso! for methinks that even De Morla should not strike more truly for Minnapotzin than would I, this night, for thee."

"Where goest thou, De Leste?" cried Cortes, as the novice pushed by. "Pause – thou art best among the cannoniers."

A dreadful yell, at that moment, drowned the general's voice: but one still more dreadful was heard, when, as the pagans drew breath to repeat the cry, the Christians in front heard the rear-guard exclaiming, with loud and bitter shrieks, "The bridge! – the bridge! – it is fast and immoveable!" – The weight of the horses and artillery had sunk it deep into the chasm, and no human strength could stir it from its foundation.