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

The cavalier turned to Lazaro: he was bleeding, and he cast a look of despair on his master.

"Why art thou idle? thou wert bred to the linstock, sirrah. Show thyself a Christian man and true. – Hark! hearest thou not? 'Tis the shout of De Leon! Bravely, bold hearts! the rear-guard is nigh. – Hah! halon, halon! Don Pedro!"

"'Tis the voice of the secretary!" cried Lazaro; "and God help me, but he cries for succour!"

"Ho, señor! señor Don Amador! for the love of Christ!" – the wild shout of Fabueno, for the neophyte could no longer doubt it was he, was suddenly interrupted: the shrill shriek of a woman succeeded; and, then, every thing was lost in a hurricane of yells, so intermingled that no one could say whether they came from Christians or pagans.

"Stay – drop thy match, – hold me this boy, as thou holdest thy life, and suffer none to pass the beam – "

"For the sake of the cross thou adorest, the maiden thou lovest!" cried the terrified boy, clinging to the cavalier, "leave me not, oh leave me not, in this horror, to die alone! The Mexicans will kill me, for I have now no gown of a priestess to protect me – "

Notwithstanding the boiling excitement of the novice, these last words filled his brain with strange thoughts, but still so confused that they were more like the momentary phantasms of delirium, than the proper suggestions of reason. But whatever they were, they were instantly driven out of his mind, by another cry from Fabueno, seemingly hard by, but so feeble and wailing, that a less acute ear might have supposed it came from a considerable distance.

He shook the boy off, flung him into the arms of Lazaro, crying, "Answer his safety with thy life! – with thy life!" and immediately darted through the cannoniers, and retraced his steps on the causeway.

By this time, the fire on the pyramid had attained its greatest brilliancy, and the wind having died entirely away, it projected its lofty spire to heaven, and burned with a tranquillity which seemed to leave it motionless; while its reflection on that part of the lake which shared not in the agitations of conflict, produced a spectacle of peace in singular contrast with the horrible scene of carnage, that moment represented on the causeway. The light it shed, though it made objects visible even as far as the second ditch, did not illuminate the furthest part of the dike; and there, whatever deed of death might be presented, was hidden from the eyes of all but the actors themselves.

Raising his voice aloud, and running towards the nearest group, Don Amador sought out the secretary. But this group, before he had yet reached it, started away, and fled, with loud cries, towards the city, or to where the tumult was greatest; and he knew by their shouts of 'Tlatelolco! ho, Tlatelolco!' that they were Mexicans. On the spot they had thus deserted, the novice stumbled over the body of a man, his throat cut from ear to ear, his cotton armour torn to pieces; and from the shreds, as the carcass rolled under his foot, there fell out, rattling and jingling on the stones, divers vessels of gold and jewels, such as had been grasped in the treasury.

Without pausing to survey this victim of covetousness, the cavalier ran on; and, hearing many Christian voices, ringing now with curses, now with prayers, and now with shouts of triumph, he called out at the top of his voice, —

"On, brothers! on to the artillery! advance! – Strike well, and forward! – Ho, Lorenzo! comrade! where art thou? and why answerest thou not?"

A gurgling sound, as of one suffocating in the flood, drew his eye to the lake almost under his feet. The water rippled, as if lately disturbed by the falling of some heavy body; and just where the circling waves washed sluggishly up the shelving dike, there lay a white mass like a human figure, the head and shoulders buried in the tide. The wash of the ripple stirred the garments, and, in part, the corse, so that it still seemed to be living; but when the novice had caught it up, he beheld the visage of a very youthful girl, her forehead cloven by a sword of obsidian, and the broken weapon wedged fast in the brain. At the same instant, the water parted hard by, and there rose up a dark object, that seemed the back of a horse, across which lay the body of a man in bright armour, the legs upwards, but the head and breast ingulfed. For an instant, this dreary sight was presented; but, slowly, the steed, whose nostrils were still under water, as if held down by the grasp of the dead rider, rolled over on his side, and the body, slipping off the other way, sunk headlong and silently into the flood, followed presently by the horse; and the next moment the waters were at rest.

"God rest thee, Lorenzo!" cried the novice, laying down the corse of Eugracia. "Thy life and thy hopes, thy ambition and thy love, are ended together – but now can I not lament thee!"

He started up, as the causeway suddenly shook with the tramp of hoofs, and a cavalier, without spear or helm, dashed madly by. Almost at the moment of passing, whether it was that the strength of the fugitive had suddenly given out, or whether, as seemed more probable, a flight of arrows had been sent in pursuit, and struck both horse and rider, the steed made a fierce bound into the air; and then pursued his course, masterless.

"Follow onwards, ye men of the rear!" cried the novice, struck with a sudden horror; for now he became conscious that the artillery had been, for several moments, silent; and when he looked after the flying steed, though he could not, at that distance, perceive any thing, he could hear fierce voices mingling together in strife; and presently the riderless horse, as if driven back by a wall of foes, returned, passing him again with the speed of the wind.

The limbs of the cavalier were nerved with the strength of fury; for he thought he heard the screams of Jacinto, ascending with the harsher cries of the gunners; and scarcely did that frightened charger fly more swiftly from the battle, than he himself now back to it.

"Thy duty, knave Lazaro!" he cried. "The boy! – save the boy!"

"Don Amador! oh Amador! Don Amador!" came to his ears, in a voice that rent his heart.

"I come! I come!" shouted the cavalier, redoubling his exertions, but not his speed, for that was at the highest.

"Oh heaven, Amador! Amador! – "

In his distraction, the neophyte confounded two voices into one; and while he replied to one, his thoughts flew to another.

"I come! Answer me – where art thou? I am here: – where art thou!"

As he uttered these words, he sprang through the artillery, which was without servers, – among bodies which were lifeless, – and stood alone, – for there was no living creature there but himself, – on the borders of the sluice, the beam over which was broken off in the middle, and the further portion, only, left standing in its place.

He cast his amazed and affrighted eye from the water, heaving as before with the struggles of dying men, to the corpse on whose bosom he was standing. – In the grinning countenance, covered with blood, and horribly mutilated by a blow which had pierced through the mouth, jaws, and throat, to the severed spine, he beheld the features of Lazaro, fixed in death; and looked wildly at his side, to discover the body of the page. No corse of Jacinto was there; but, on the ground, where he had stood, on the spot where he had charged him to stand, the novice perceived a jewel, catching a ray from the distant fire, glittering red, as with blood, and held by a golden chain to which it was attached, in the death-grasp of the henchman. He snatched it from the earth and from the hand of the dead and looking on it with a stare of horror, beheld the holy and never to be forgotten cross of rubies.

With that sight, the scales fell from his eyes, and a million of wild thoughts beset his brain. The magical knowledge of the page, coupled with his childish and effeminate youth, – his garments, so fitted to disguise, – his scrupulous modesty, – his tears, his terrors, his affection, and his power over the mind of the cavalier, – the garb of the priestess, so lately acknowledged, – the vision in the house of the Wali, Abdalla, – the cross of jewels, doubtless snatched from the neck of Jacinto, when barbarians were tearing him from the faithful Lazaro, – all these came to the brain of the cavalier with the blaze and the shock of a cannon, suddenly discharged at his ears. He looked again to the corses about him – they were those of the gunners; to the ditch – it writhed no more; and then, uttering the name of Leila, he sunk, in a stupor, to the earth.

CHAPTER LIX

While these scenes of blood were passing in the centre of the army, and a hideous mystery concealed the fate of the rear, the condition of the advanced guard, though not altogether hopeless, was scarce less terrific. When the forces of Sandoval, comprising many of the followers, both common soldiers and captains, of Narvaez, were made acquainted with the fate of the bridge, and beheld the vast number of foes that impelled their canoes towards the further bank of the second ditch, as if to secure the passage, they waited not for directions to cross over, by swimming. They imitated the example of their commander, Sandoval, who, leaping from his horse, and leading him into the water, passed over by the beam, while still holding and guiding the swimming animal. This mode of proceeding being necessarily very slow, and the barbarians rushing, in the meanwhile, against them with unspeakable fury, the impatience of the cavaliers became so great, that many of them spurred their steeds down the sides of the dike, and thus, swimming them along by the beam, passed to the other side. Divers of the footmen, seduced by the example, leaped, in like manner, into the lake; and the Tlascalans, at all times less formidable opponents than their armed allies, being, at the same moment, violently assaulted, sprang also into the water, so that it became alive with the bodies of man and horse, – as if a herd of caymans, such as haunt the lower rivers of that climate, were disporting and battling in the tide. While thus embarrassed and entangled together in the water, the swimmers were set upon by the Mexicans, who, pushing their canoes among them, and handling their heavy paddles, as well as war-clubs, despatched them, almost without labour, and with roars of exultation.

It was at this instant of confusion, and while those Tlascalans who still remained on the dike, contended but feebly with the augmenting assailants, that Don Hernan, followed closely by De Morla, and others, dashed over friend and foe, and reached the ditch. The scene of horror there disclosed, the miserable shrieks of Christian comrades, perishing in the gap and the neighbouring parts of the lake, the increasing yells of infidels behind, touched the stout heart of Cortes with fear. He descended from his steed, sprang upon the beam, and crossed, crying out, at the same time, to those who followed, —

"Hold, cavaliers! Wait ye here for the artillery: leave not this gap to the murderers. Fight ye here well, and ye shall have help from the van."

So saying, he sprang again upon his horse. De Morla was at his heels, bearing Minnapotzin in his arms, but on foot: the chestnut gelding was left drowning in the sluice, entangled and sinking under the weight of a dozen men, who had seized upon him, in their terror.

"God forgive thee, cavalier!" cried Cortes, as he caught the eye of Francisco; "for, for this barbarian puppet, thou playest the coward, and leavest thy friend to perish, without the aid of a blow!"

De Morla answered not, but, with a ghastly smile, uncovered and pointed at the features of the unconscious princess.

"If she be dead," cried the general, "give her body to the waters of her native lake; if she live, commit her to the care of the Tlascalans; then call on thy saints and show that thou art not a craven!"

Then, without waiting for an answer, Don Hernan spurred onwards, striking down, almost at every step, – for the whole causeway was beset, – some luckless savage; and, now and then, in his desperation, smiting at the hands of certain of his own countrymen, who strove to arrest the galloping steed, and spring behind him.

He reached the third and last ditch; it was bridge-less, like the others, and, like the others, a theatre of disorder and massacre. The pillar of fire, here, revealed its figure but luridly and faintly, through the thick mists and the cannon-smoke, sluggishly driving over the lake; but he thought he could trace, in the distant gloom, in front, the outline of those rugged hills, which lie along the western borders of the lake. He turned his face backwards to the city; a tempest of yells – the pagan shouts of victory, and the last cries of Spaniards to God, – came mingling on a gust, that waved the distant flame to and fro, like a sword of fire in the hands of some colossal fiend. A bolt of ice smote through his bosom; and when he plunged into the sluice, and, rising on the opposite bank, drove the sharp spurs into the flanks of his charger, no man, of all the army, fled with more craven horror than himself.

An hour afterwards, the moon, diminished to the thinnest crescent, crept with a sickly and cadaverous visage, to the summit of the eastern hills, and peeped down into the valley, preceding the dawn that was soon to look upon its scenes of death.

At this moment of moonrise, those few Christians who had escaped from the battle, were grouped at the end of the dike, deliberating, in unspeakable agitation, upon the course they were to pursue. Many advised that they should instantly resume their flight, and trust to their speed to put them, before morning, beyond the reach of their merciless enemies; some insisted upon remaining, to give help to such wretches as, ever and anon, made their way from the causeway, and, with tears of joy and loud thanks-givings, threw themselves among their friends; a few, more honourable, or more insane, among whom were Sandoval and Don Christobal de Olid, (a very valiant cavalier, to whom other histories have been juster than this,) demanded, with stern reproaches, that their leader should conduct them again to the combat, which was still raging on the lake, and rescue their countrymen out of that fiery furnace, or, at once, honourably and justly, perish with them.

"Is there one here, who, if I refuse this most mad counsel, will say I do it from fear?" demanded the general, with a voice broken by agony and despair. "What I do, I do for the good of heaven, the king, and yourselves. If I suffer you to return, then will ye perish, Spain lose an appanage worthy the first-born of an emperor, and, in that accursed city, God be daily grieved by the sight of idolatry and sacrifice. By remaining where we are, we shall save many lives; and this land of milk and honey, of corn and of gold, though now torn from us for our sins, will be yet the guerdon of our resolution. I aver and protest, that if we return to the hell that is on the lake, we shall be lost, to a man. Is there one, then, who says I remain here from fear?"

Notwithstanding the deep grief and agitation which gave their tone to the words of the general, there was mingled withal a touch of such sternness, as forbade even the boldest to reply. Great, therefore, was the surprise of all, when a hollow and broken voice murmured, in answer, from the causeway, —

"There is ONE, – there are an hundred, – there have been (but now they are not,) a thousand men, who say that, this night, Cortes hath proved a craven, a deserter of his friends, a traitor to his king, a betrayer of his God, – and, therefore, a villain!"

As these words were uttered, there staggered up the bank, on which the party rested, a figure, seemingly of a cavalier, but his armour so rent and demolished, as, in many places, to leave his body naked. His helmet was gone, and his locks, dripping with water and blood, fell over his breast, leaving their crimson stains on the white mantle muffling the body of some slighter figure, which he bore in his arms.

"I forgive thee, De Morla!" cried the general, rushing forwards, and then recoiling, as Don Francisco deposited the burden at his feet, and, removing the cloth reeking with water as with gore, disclosed to the view of all, gently touched by the ray of that wasted and melancholy moon, the countenance of the dead princess. "Who hath struck the daughter of Montezuma? – who hath done this deed?"

"He who hath smitten the hearts of a thousand Christians, by leading them into peril, and deserting them in their need!" said the cavalier, with a tranquillity that struck all with terror, for it was unnatural; "he, who commanded me to fling, while living, this child of a murdered king into the lake, or upon the spears of Tlascalans, and then get me back to the foe, that he might himself fly in safety!"

"Thou art mad, Francisco! and thou doest me foul injustice!" said Don Hernan, hurriedly. "I fled not; nor did I bid thee do aught but entrust this hapless maiden to some strong band of allies, thou being thyself on foot, and, therefore, incompetent to protect her."

"You called me craven, too!" said the cavalier, with a hoarse laugh, raising his voice aloud. "Thou liest! – I am braver than thou; for my body is covered with wounds – from the crown to the sole, there is no part but is mangled; – and yet thou hast not a limb but is untouched! You call me craven! God smite you with punishment, for you are all cravens, knaves, and murderers together! You wait on the banks, while we are dying, and you call us cravens! God will do us right! God will avenge us! God will hear our prayers! and so God curse you all, and keep your bones for the maws of infidels!"

Thus speaking, and concluding with the voice of a madman, the young cavalier cast a look on the dead princess, and, uttering a horrid scream, ran back, distracted, to the causeway.

"In the name of God, on!" exclaimed an hundred voices; "we are not cravens and murderers, and Spaniards shall not fall unaided!"

Don Hernan himself, stung by the sarcasms of the unhappy and well-beloved cavalier, was the first to clap spurs to his horse; and again the thunder of cavalry, and the quick tread of footmen moving in order, were heard on the dike of Tacuba.

CHAPTER LX

Thousands of infuriated and exulting savages had, in the meanwhile, landed from their canoes at the second ditch, raised their cries of triumph over the abandoned artillery, and struck, with a rage not to be appeased by death, the Christian corses which lay so thick among them. But, while living invaders remained, either in the front or rear, they tarried not long, to waste their malice on the dead.

The cavalier Don Amador, when he made the marvellous discovery, detailed in a preceding chapter, and perceived that the fair and lamented being of his dreams, heaven had permitted so long to walk by his side, in this new and strange world, – revealing her to his eyes only at the moment when destined to be snatched from them for ever, – felt, at that instant of discovery as if all the ties which bound him to existence, were at once dissevered. Rage at his blindness, furious compunctions of remorse for his negligence, and an agony of grief at the supposed dreadful fate of the maiden, were mingled with a sort of wild indignation against the providence which, by veiling his eyes, and shutting his ears to the suggestions of his heart, (for, surely, from the moment he looked upon the page, his affections were given him,) had robbed him of his mistress. It was not, therefore, wonderful, that such a conflict of mind, acting upon a body weakened by previous wounds and sickness, and exhausted by present exertions, should have thrown him across the body of Lazaro, himself, to all appearance, full as lifeless. And thus he lay, for half an hour, insensible to the battle, which was now drawing nigh to the ditch, and now leaving it to its charnel solitude.

He was recalled to life, by feeling some one tug forcibly at the sacred jewel, which he retained throughout his lethargy, with the same instinct which had preserved it in the death-grasp of the henchman. More lucky than Lazaro, yet scarce more happy, this violence woke up the sleeping energies of life; and he raised his head, though only to stare about him with a bewildered look of unconsciousness.

"God be thanked!" exclaimed a Christian voice in his ear, as a friendly hand seized him by the shoulder; "lead or gold, glass or precious stone, never was cross of Christ picked up on the wayside, but good fortune followed after it! What ho, señor! up and away! The things that I spoke of, have come to pass. Kalidon-Sadabath dances in the Crystal; he loves the smell of blood! – Up! arise and away, for thine hour is not come."

The cavalier arose, and stared at the friendly magician; which Botello seeing, and supposing he was now fully restored to his wits, this lunatic of another sort seized him by the arm, and, dragging him towards the water, said, —

"Fear not; if thou hast not the skill of a crocodile, know that I can bear thee across the channel; and that the more easily that it is already choked with corses, and no Mexicans nigh to oppose us."

The neophyte broke from his companion, and with wild cries of Leila! Leila! ran towards the cannon.

"God save thee! art thou mad? Dost thou call upon woman or devil? This is no place for girls; and never heard I of imp called Leila."

"Thou knowest not my wretchedness, Botello," said Don Amador. "Let me look again, if her body be not here. – Hah!" he cried, struck with a sudden thought, and turning quickly to the conjurer. "Thou art a magician, and knowest of the dead as well as the living. I have decried thine art, but now I acknowledge thy wisdom. Behold this rubied cross – oh heaven! that I should hold it in my hand, and know, that, but a moment since, it was on the neck of Leila! Look, enchanter; this jewel came from the neck of a woman, whom but now I left standing on this brink. Call her from the dead, if she have perished; or show me what path she hath trodden, if she be living; and I will reward thee, though I give thee the half of my patrimony. – A woman, I tell thee! Wilt thou not believe me? Half my estate, but to look upon her!"

It was manifest, even to the unhappy novice himself, that Botello regarded him as a madman. But nevertheless he replied earnestly, "Here is no place for conjurations: there be devils enough about us already. Tarry not here; for this will neither benefit thee, nor her of whom thou speakest. Spring into the ditch, – rush with me to the main; and, then, what thou seekest, thou shalt know. Courage, courage! Dost thou not see yonder star, that creeps up by the dim moon, under the rack, dimmer even than the dim moon? Under that star, came I into earth: and while it shineth in that conjunction, the dart of a savage cannot wound me, – no, not though it strike me upon the naked brow! – Hark! dost thou not hear? The fragments of the rear-guard are approaching. Let us swim this abyss before they reach us, lest we be entangled among them. Hesitate not: we will go together, for I see thou art worn and feeble; and I remember that thou gavest me succour in the streets of Mexico."

The neophyte had yielded, with a sort of captive-like and despairing submission, to the will of Botello; and was descending with him moodily to the water, when suddenly the latter paused, listening to a Christian shout in the distance, as of one approaching them from the shore.

"Hark! it is repeated! – Viva! They come from the main: they have beaten the cubs of darkness – Viva! viva! Santiago, and quick, valiant friends!"

The joyous shouts of Botello were re-echoed, though only by a single voice. Yet this was evidently approaching, and with great rapidity.

During the whole time of the resuscitation of Don Amador, and of his dialogue with the enchanter, the causeway in the neighbourhood of the ditch had been free from foes, but only because it was free from Christians; and the lake in the vicinity was equally solitary. But now as they stood listening to the shouts, the two companions could perceive the lake, some distance in front, on both sides of the dike, boiling up in foam under canoes impelled towards them with extraordinary violence, seemingly upon the flank of the party from which proceeded the cry. But whatever was the speed of the canoes, it seemed to be unequal to that of the Christian; whose shouts wild and loud, and now almost incessantly repeated, grew shriller and nearer every moment.