The Project Gutenberg eBook of Montezuma's Daughter, by H. Rider Haggard

2026-07-30 04:00:55 Category: Spring Fling Views (3)

Montezuma’s Daughter

by H. Rider Haggard

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Contents

I. WHY THOMAS WINGFIELD TELLS HIS TALE

II. OF THE PARENTAGE OF THOMAS WINGFIELD

III. THE COMING OF THE SPANIARD

IV. THOMAS TELLS HIS LOVE

V. THOMAS SWEARS AN OATH

VI. GOOD-BYE,logic games for 14 year olds under 100 dollars SWEETHEART

VII. ANDRES DE FONSECA

VIII. THE SECOND MEETING

IX. THOMAS BECOMES RICH

X. THE PASSING OF ISABELLA DE SIGUENZA

XI. THE LOSS OF THE CARAK

XII. THOMAS COMES TO SHORE

XIII. THE STONE OF SACRIFICE

XIV. THE SAVING OF GUATEMOC

XV. THE COURT OF MONTEZUMA

XVI. THOMAS BECOMES A GOD

XVII. THE ARISING OF PAPANTZIN

XVIII. THE NAMING OF THE BRIDES

XIX. THE FOUR GODDESSES

XX. OTOMIE’S COUNSEL

XXI. THE KISS OF LOVE

XXII. THE TRIUMPH OF THE CROSS

XXIII. THOMAS IS MARRIED

XXIV. THE NIGHT OF FEAR

XXV. THE BURYING OF MONTEZUMA’S TREASURE

XXVI. THE CROWNING OF GUATEMOC

XXVII. THE FALL OF TENOCTITLAN

XXVIII. THOMAS IS DOOMED

XXIX. DE GARCIA SPEAKS HIS MIND

XXX. THE ESCAPE

XXXI. OTOMIE PLEADS WITH HER PEOPLE

XXXII. THE END OF GUATEMOC

XXXIII. ISABELLA DE SIGUENZA IS AVENGED

XXXIV. THE SIEGE OF THE CITY OF PINES

XXXV. THE LAST SACRIFICE OF THE WOMEN OF THE OTOMIE

XXXVI. THE SURRENDER

XXXVII. VENGEANCE

XXXVIII. OTOMIE’S FAREWELL

XXXIX. THOMAS COMES BACK FROM THE DEAD

XL. AMEN

DEDICATION

My dear Jebb,

Strange as were the adventures and escapes of Thomas Wingfield, once of thisparish, whereof these pages tell, your own can almost equal them in theselatter days, and, since a fellow feeling makes us kind, you at least they maymove to a sigh of sympathy. Among many a distant land you know that in which heloved and fought, following vengeance and his fate, and by your side I saw itsrelics and its peoples, its volcans and its valleys. You know even where liesthe treasure which, three centuries and more ago, he helped to bury, thecountless treasure that an evil fortune held us back from seeking. Now theIndians have taken back their secret, and though many may search, none willlift the graven stone that seals it, nor shall the light of day shine againupon the golden head of Montezuma. So be it! The wealth which Cortes wept over,and his Spaniards sinned and died for, is for ever hidden yonder by the shoresof the bitter lake whose waters gave up to you that ancient horror, theveritable and sleepless god of Sacrifice, of whom I would not robyou—and, for my part, I do not regret the loss.

What cannot be lost, what to me seem of more worth than the dead heroGuatemoc’s gems and jars of gold, are the memories of true friendshipshown to us far away beneath the shadow of the Slumbering Woman,^[1]and it is in gratitude for these that I ask permission to set your name withina book which were it not for you would never have been written.

I am, my dear Jebb,
Always sincerely yours,
H. RIDER HAGGARD.

DITCHINGHAM, NORFOLK, October5, 1892.
To J. Gladwyn Jebb, Esq.

NOTE

Worn out prematurely by a life of hardship and extraordinary adventure, Mr.Jebb passed away on March 18, 1893, taking with him the respect and affectionof all who had the honour of his friendship. The author has learned withpleasure that the reading of this tale in proof and the fact of its dedicationto himself afforded him some amusement and satisfaction in the intervals of hissufferings.

H. R. H.

March22, 1893.

[1]The volcano Izticcihuatl in Mexico.

NOTE

The more unpronounceable of the Aztec names are shortened in many instances outof consideration for the patience of the reader; thus“Popocatapetl” becomes “Popo,”“Huitzelcoatl” becomes “Huitzel,” &c. The prayer inChapter xxvi. is freely rendered from Jourdanet’s French translation ofFray Bernardino de Sahagun’s History of New Spain, written shortly afterthe conquest of Mexico (Book VI, chap. v.), to which monumental work and toPrescott’s admirable history the author of this romance is much indebted.The portents described as heralding the fall of the Aztec Empire, and many ofthe incidents and events written of in this story, such as the annualpersonation of the god Tezcatlipoca by a captive distinguished for his personalbeauty, and destined to sacrifice, are in the main historical. The noble speechof the Emperor Guatemoc to the Prince of Tacuba uttered while they both weresuffering beneath the hands of the Spaniards is also authentic.

Montezuma’s Daughter

CHAPTER I
WHY THOMAS WINGFIELD TELLS HIS TALE

Now glory be to God who has given us the victory! It is true, the strength ofSpain is shattered, her ships are sunk or fled, the sea has swallowed hersoldiers and her sailors by hundreds and by thousands, and England breathesagain. They came to conquer, to bring us to the torture and the stake—todo to us free Englishmen as Cortes did by the Indians of Anahuac. Our manhoodto the slave bench, our daughters to dishonour, our souls to theloving-kindness of the priest, our wealth to the Emperor and the Pope! God hasanswered them with his winds, Drake has answered them with his guns. They aregone, and with them the glory of Spain.

I, Thomas Wingfield, heard the news to-day on this very Thursday in the Bungaymarket-place, whither I went to gossip and to sell the apples which thesedreadful gales have left me, as they hang upon my trees.

Before there had been rumours of this and of that, but here in Bungay was a mannamed Young, of the Youngs of Yarmouth, who had served in one of the Yarmouthships in the fight at Gravelines, aye and sailed north after the Spaniards tillthey were lost in the Scottish seas.

Little things lead to great, men say, but here great things lead to little, forbecause of these tidings it comes about that I, Thomas Wingfield, of the Lodgeand the parish of Ditchingham in the county of Norfolk, being now of a greatage and having only a short time to live, turn to pen and ink. Ten years ago,namely, in the year 1578, it pleased her Majesty, our gracious Queen Elizabeth,who at that date visited this county, that I should be brought before her atNorwich. There and then, saying that the fame of it had reached her, shecommanded me to give her some particulars of the story of my life, or rather ofthose twenty years, more or less, which I spent among the Indians at that timewhen Cortes conquered their country of Anahuac, which is now known as Mexico.But almost before I could begin my tale, it was time for her to start forCossey to hunt the deer, and she said it was her wish that I should write thestory down that she might read it, and moreover that if it were but half aswonderful as it promised to be, I should end my days as Sir Thomas Wingfield.To this I answered her Majesty that pen and ink were tools I had no skill in,yet I would bear her command in mind. Then I made bold to give her a greatemerald that once had hung upon the breast of Montezuma’s daughter, andof many a princess before her, and at the sight of it her eyes glistenedbrightly as the gem, for this Queen of ours loves such costly playthings.Indeed, had I so desired, I think that I might then and there have struck abargain, and set the stone against a title; but I, who for many years had beenthe prince of a great tribe, had no wish to be a knight. So I kissed the royalhand, and so tightly did it grip the gem within that the knuckle joints shonewhite, and I went my ways, coming back home to this my house by the Waveney onthat same day.

Now the Queen’s wish that I should set down the story of my life remainedin my mind, and for long I have desired to do it before life and story endtogether. The labour, indeed, is great to one unused to such tasks; but whyshould I fear labour who am so near to the holiday of death? I have seen thingsthat no other Englishman has seen, which are worthy to be recorded; my life hasbeen most strange, many a time it has pleased God to preserve it when allseemed lost, and this perchance He has done that the lesson of it might becomeknown to others. For there is a lesson in it and in the things that I haveseen, and it is that no wrong can ever bring about a right, that wrong willbreed wrong at last, and be it in man or people, will fall upon the brain thatthought it and the hand that wrought it.

Look now at the fate of Cortes—that great man whom I have known clothedwith power like a god. Nearly forty years ago, so I have heard, he died poorand disgraced in Spain; he, the conqueror—yes, and I have learned alsothat his son Don Martin has been put to the torture in that city which thefather won with so great cruelties for Spain. Malinche, she whom the Spaniardsnamed Marina, the chief and best beloved of all the women of this same Cortes,foretold it to him in her anguish when after all that had been, after she hadso many times preserved him and his soldiers to look upon the sun, at the lasthe deserted her, giving her in marriage to Don Juan Xaramillo. Look again atthe fate of Marina herself. Because she loved this man Cortes, or Malinche, asthe Indians named him after her, she brought evil on her native land; forwithout her aid Tenoctitlan, or Mexico, as they call it now, had never bowedbeneath the yoke of Spain—yes, she forgot her honour in her passion. Andwhat was her reward, what right came to her of her wrongdoing? This was herreward at last: to be given away in marriage to another and a lesser man whenher beauty waned, as a worn-out beast is sold to a poorer master.

Consider also the fate of those great peoples of the land of Anahuac. They didevil that good might come. They sacrificed the lives of thousands to theirfalse gods, that their wealth might increase, and peace and prosperity betheirs throughout the generations. And now the true God has answered them. Forwealth He has given them desolation, for peace the sword of the Spaniard, forprosperity the rack and the torment and the day of slavery. For this it wasthat they did sacrifice, offering their own children on the altars of Huitzeland of Tezcat.

And the Spaniards themselves, who in the name of mercy have wrought crueltiesgreater than any that were done by the benighted Aztecs, who in the name ofChrist daily violate His law to the uttermost extreme, say shall they prosper,shall their evil-doing bring them welfare? I am old and cannot live to see thequestion answered, though even now it is in the way of answering. Yet I knowthat their wickedness shall fall upon their own heads, and I seem to see them,the proudest of the peoples of the earth, bereft of fame and wealth and honour,a starveling remnant happy in nothing save their past. What Drake began atGravelines God will finish in many another place and time, till at last Spainis of no more account and lies as low as the empire of Montezuma lies to-day.

Thus it is in these great instances of which all the world may know, and thusit is even in the life of so humble a man as I, Thomas Wingfield. Heaven indeedhas been merciful to me, giving me time to repent my sins; yet my sins havebeen visited on my head, on me who took His prerogative of vengeance from thehand of the Most High. It is just, and because it is so I wish to set out thematter of my life’s history that others may learn from it. For many yearsthis has been in my mind, as I have said, though to speak truth it was herMajesty the Queen who first set the seed. But only on this day, when I haveheard for certain of the fate of the Armada, does it begin to grow, and who cansay if ever it will come to flower? For this tidings has stirred me strangely,bringing back my youth and the deeds of love and war and wild adventure which Ihave been mingled in, fighting for my own hand and for Guatemoc and the peopleof the Otomie against these same Spaniards, as they have not been brought backfor many years. Indeed, it seems to me, and this is no rare thing with theaged, as though there in the far past my true life lay, and all the rest werenothing but a dream.

From the window of the room wherein I write I can see the peaceful valley ofthe Waveney. Beyond its stream are the common lands golden with gorse, theruined castle, and the red roofs of Bungay town gathered about the tower of St.Mary’s Church. Yonder far away are the king’s forests of Stowe andthe fields of Flixton Abbey; to the right the steep bank is green with theEarsham oaks, to the left the fast marsh lands spotted with cattle stretch onto Beccles and Lowestoft, while behind me my gardens and orchards rise interraces up the turfy hill that in old days was known as the Earl’sVineyard. All these are about me, and yet in this hour they are as though theywere not. For the valley of the Waveney I see the vale of Tenoctitlan, for theslopes of Stowe the snowy shapes of the volcans Popo and Iztac, for the spireof Earsham and the towers of Ditchingham, of Bungay, and of Beccles, thesoaring pyramids of sacrifice gleaming with the sacred fires, and for thecattle in the meadows the horsemen of Cortes sweeping to war.

It comes back to me; that was life, the rest is but a dream. Once more I feelyoung, and, should I be spared so long, I will set down the story of my youthbefore I am laid in yonder churchyard and lost in the world of dreams. Long agoI had begun it, but it was only on last Christmas Day that my dear wife died,and while she lived I knew that this task was better left undone. Indeed, to befrank, it was thus with my wife: She loved me, I believe, as few men have thefortune to be loved, and there is much in my past that jarred upon this love ofhers, moving her to a jealousy of the dead that was not the less deep becauseit was so gentle and so closely coupled with forgiveness. For she had a secretsorrow that ate her heart away, although she never spoke of it. But one childwas born to us, and this child died in infancy, nor for all her prayers did itplease God to give her another, and indeed remembering the words of Otomie Idid not expect that it would be so. Now she knew well that yonder across theseas I had children whom I loved by another wife, and though they were longdead, must always love unalterably, and this thought wrung her heart. That Ihad been the husband of another woman she could forgive, but that this womanshould have borne me children whose memory was still so dear, she could notforget if she forgave it, she who was childless. Why it was so, being but aman, I cannot say; for who can know all the mystery of a loving woman’sheart? But so it was. Once, indeed, we quarrelled on the matter; it was ouronly quarrel.

It chanced that when we had been married but two years, and our babe was somefew days buried in the churchyard of this parish of Ditchingham, I dreamed avery vivid dream as I slept one night at my wife’s side. I dreamed thatmy dead children, the four of them, for the tallest lad bore in his arms myfirstborn, that infant who died in the great siege, came to me as they hadoften come when I ruled the people of the Otomie in the City of Pines, andtalked with me, giving me flowers and kissing my hands. I looked upon theirstrength and beauty, and was proud at heart, and, in my dream, it seemed asthough some great sorrow had been lifted from my mind; as though these dearones had been lost and now were found again. Ah! what misery is there like tothis misery of dreams, that can thus give us back our dead in mockery, and thendeparting, leave us with a keener woe?

Well, I dreamed on, talking with my children in my sleep and naming them bytheir beloved names, till at length I woke to look on emptiness, and knowingall my sorrow I sobbed aloud. Now it was early morning, and the light of theAugust sun streamed through the window, but I, deeming that my wife slept,still lay in the shadow of my dream as it were, and groaned, murmuring thenames of those whom I might never see again. It chanced, however, that she wasawake, and had overheard those words which I spoke with the dead, while I wasyet asleep and after; and though some of this talk was in the tongue of theOtomie, the most was English, and knowing the names of my children she guessedthe purport of it all. Suddenly she sprang from the bed and stood over me, andthere was such anger in her eyes as I had never seen before nor have seensince, nor did it last long then, for presently indeed it was quenched intears.

“What is it, wife?” I asked astonished.

“It is hard,” she answered, “that I must bear to listen tosuch talk from your lips, husband. Was it not enough that, when all men thoughtyou dead, I wore my youth away faithful to your memory? though how faithful youwere to mine you know best. Did I ever reproach you because you had forgottenme, and wedded a savage woman in a distant land?”

“Never, dear wife, nor had I forgotten you as you know well; but what Iwonder at is that you should grow jealous now when all cause is donewith.”

“Cannot we be jealous of the dead? With the living we may cope, but whocan fight against the love which death has completed, sealing it for ever andmaking it immortal! Still, thatI forgive you, for against this woman Ican hold my own, seeing that you were mine before you became hers, and are mineafter it. But with the children it is otherwise. They are hers and yours alone.I have no part nor lot in them, and whether they be dead or living I know wellyou love them always, and will love them beyond the grave if you may find themthere. Already I grow old, who waited twenty years and more before I was yourwife, and I shall give you no other children. One I gave you, and God took itback lest I should be too happy; yet its name was not on your lips with thosestrange names. My dead babe is little to you, husband!”

Here she choked, bursting into tears; nor did I think it well to answer herthat there was this difference in the matter, that whereas, with the exceptionof one infant, those sons whom I had lost were almost adolescent, the babe shebore lived but sixty days.

Now when the Queen first put it in my mind to write down the history of mylife, I remembered this outbreak of my beloved wife; and seeing that I couldwrite no true tale and leave out of it the story of her who was also my wife,Montezuma’s daughter, Otomie, Princess of the Otomie, and of the childrenthat she gave me, I let the matter lie. For I knew well, that though we spokevery rarely on the subject during all the many years we passed together, stillit was always in Lily’s mind; nor did her jealousy, being of the finersort, abate at all with age, but rather gathered with the gathering days. ThatI should execute the task without the knowledge of my wife would not have beenpossible, for till the very last she watched over my every act, and, as Iverily believe, divined the most of my thoughts.

And so we grew old together, peacefully, and side by side, speaking seldom ofthat great gap in my life when we were lost to each other and of all that thenbefell. At length the end came. My wife died suddenly in her sleep in theeighty-seventh year of her age. I buried her on the south side of the churchhere, with sorrow indeed, but not with sorrow inconsolable, for I know that Imust soon rejoin her, and those others whom I have loved.

There in that wide heaven are my mother and my sister and my sons; there aregreat Guatemoc my friend, last of the emperors, and many other companions inwar who have preceded me to peace; there, too, though she doubted of it, isOtomie the beautiful and proud. In the heaven which I trust to reach, all thesins of my youth and the errors of my age notwithstanding, it is told us thereis no marrying and giving in marriage; and this is well, for I do not know howmy wives, Montezuma’s daughter and the sweet English gentlewoman, wouldagree together were it otherwise.

And now to my task.

CHAPTER II
OF THE PARENTAGE OF THOMAS WINGFIELD

I, Thomas Wingfield, was born here at Ditchingham, and in this very room whereI write to-day. The house of my birth was built or added to early in the reignof the seventh Henry, but long before his time some kind of tenement stoodhere, which was lived in by the keeper of the vineyards, and known asGardener’s Lodge. Whether it chanced that the climate was more kindly inold times, or the skill of those who tended the fields was greater, I do notknow, but this at the least is true, that the hillside beneath which the housenestles, and which once was the bank of an arm of the sea or of a great broad,was a vineyard in Earl Bigod’s days. Long since it has ceased to growgrapes, though the name of the “Earl’s Vineyard” still clingsto all that slope of land which lies between this house and a certainhealth-giving spring that bubbles from the bank the half of a mile away, in thewaters of which sick folks come to bathe even from Norwich and Lowestoft. Butsheltered as it is from the east winds, to this hour the place has theadvantage that gardens planted here are earlier by fourteen days than anyothers in the country side, and that a man may sit in them coatless in thebitter month of May, when on the top of the hill, not two hundred paces hence,he must shiver in a jacket of otterskins.

The Lodge, for so it has always been named, in its beginnings having been but afarmhouse, faces to the south-west, and is built so low that it might well bethought that the damp from the river Waveney, which runs through the marshesclose by, would rise in it. But this is not so, for though in autumn the roke,as here in Norfolk we name ground fog, hangs about the house at nightfall, andin seasons of great flood the water has been known to pour into the stables atthe back of it, yet being built on sand and gravel there is no healthierhabitation in the parish. For the rest the building is of stud-work and redbrick, quaint and mellow looking, with many corners and gables that in summerare half hidden in roses and other creeping plants, and with its outlook on themarshes and the common where the lights vary continually with the seasons andeven with the hours of the day, on the red roofs of Bungay town, and on thewooded bank that stretches round the Earsham lands; though there are manylarger, to my mind there is none pleasanter in these parts. Here in this houseI was born, and here doubtless I shall die, and having spoken of it at somelength, as we are wont to do of spots which long custom has endeared to us, Iwill go on to tell of my parentage.

First, then, I would set out with a certain pride—for who of us does notlove an ancient name when we happen to be born to it?—that I am sprungfrom the family of the Wingfields of Wingfield Castle in Suffolk, that liessome two hours on horseback from this place. Long ago the heiress of theWingfields married a De la Pole, a family famous in our history, the last ofwhom, Edmund, Earl of Suffolk, lost his head for treason when I was young, andthe castle passed to the De la Poles with her. But some offshoots of the oldWingfield stock lingered in the neighbourhood, perchance there was a barsinister on their coat of arms, I know not and do not care to know; at theleast my fathers and I are of this blood. My grandfather was a shrewd man, moreof a yeoman than a squire, though his birth was gentle. He it was who boughtthis place with the lands round it, and gathered up some fortune, mostly bycareful marrying and living, for though he had but one son he was twicemarried, and also by trading in cattle.

Now my grandfather was godly-minded even to superstition, and strange as it mayseem, having only one son, nothing would satisfy him but that the boy should bemade a priest. But my father had little leaning towards the priesthood and lifein a monastery, though at all seasons my grandfather strove to reason it intohim, sometimes with words and examples, at others with his thick cudgel ofholly, that still hangs over the ingle in the smaller sitting-room. The end ofit was that the lad was sent to the priory here in Bungay, where his conductwas of such nature that within a year the prior prayed his parents to take himback and set him in some way of secular life. Not only, so said the prior, didmy father cause scandal by his actions, breaking out of the priory at night andvisiting drinking houses and other places; but, such was the sum of hiswickedness, he did not scruple to question and make mock of the very doctrinesof the Church, alleging even that there was nothing sacred in the image of theVirgin Mary which stood in the chancel, and shut its eyes in prayer before allthe congregation when the priest elevated the Host. “Therefore,”said the prior, “I pray you take back your son, and let him find someother road to the stake than that which runs through the gates of BungayPriory.”

Now at this story my grandfather was so enraged that he almost fell into a fit;then recovering, he bethought him of his cudgel of holly, and would have usedit. But my father, who was now nineteen years of age and very stout and strong,twisted it from his hand and flung it full fifty yards, saying that no manshould touch him more were he a hundred times his father. Then he walked away,leaving the prior and my grandfather staring at each other.

Now to shorten a long tale, the end of the matter was this. It was believedboth by my grandfather and the prior that the true cause of my father’scontumacy was a passion which he had conceived for a girl of humble birth, amiller’s fair daughter who dwelt at Waingford Mills. Perhaps there wastruth in this belief, or perhaps there was none. What does it matter, seeingthat the maid married a butcher at Beccles and died years since at the good ageof ninety and five? But true or false, my grandfather believed the tale, andknowing well that absence is the surest cure for love, he entered into a planwith the prior that my father should be sent to a monastery at Seville inSpain, of which the prior’s brother was abbot, and there learn to forgetthe miller’s daughter and all other worldly things.

When this was told to my father he fell into it readily enough, being a youngman of spirit and having a great desire to see the world, otherwise, however,than through the gratings of a monastery window. So the end of it was that hewent to foreign parts in the care of a party of Spanish monks, who hadjourneyed here to Norfolk on a pilgrimage to the shrine of our Lady ofWalsingham.

It is said that my grandfather wept when he parted with his son, feeling thathe should see him no more; yet so strong was his religion, or rather hissuperstition, that he did not hesitate to send him away, though for no reasonsave that he would mortify his own love and flesh, offering his son for asacrifice as Abraham would have offered Isaac. But though my father appeared toconsent to the sacrifice, as did Isaac, yet his mind was not altogether set onaltars and faggots; in short, as he himself told me in after years, his planswere already laid.

Thus it chanced that when he had sailed from Yarmouth a year and six months,there came a letter from the abbot of the monastery in Seville to his brother,the prior of St. Mary’s at Bungay, saying that my father had fled fromthe monastery, leaving no trace of where he had gone. My grandfather wasgrieved at this tidings, but said little about it.

Two more years passed away, and there came other news, namely, that my fatherhad been captured, that he had been handed over to the power of the HolyOffice, as the accursed Inquisition was then named, and tortured to death atSeville. When my grandfather heard this he wept, and bemoaned himself that hisfolly in forcing one into the Church who had no liking for that path, hadbrought about the shameful end of his only son. After that date also he brokehis friendship with the prior of St. Mary’s at Bungay, and ceased hisofferings to the priory. Still he did not believe that my father was dead intruth, since on the last day of his own life, that ended two years later, hespoke of him as a living man, and left messages to him as to the management ofthe lands which now were his.

And in the end it became clear that this belief was not ill-founded, for oneday three years after the old man’s death, there landed at the port ofYarmouth none other than my father, who had been absent some eight years inall. Nor did he come alone, for with him he brought a wife, a young and verylovely lady, who afterwards was my mother. She was a Spaniard of noble family,having been born at Seville, and her maiden name was Donna Luisa de Garcia.

Now of all that befell my father during his eight years of wandering I cannotspeak certainly, for he was very silent on the matter, though I may have needto touch on some of his adventures. But I know it is true that he fell underthe power of the Holy Office, for once when as a little lad I bathed with himin the Elbow Pool, where the river Waveney bends some three hundred yards abovethis house, I saw that his breast and arms were scored with long white scars,and asked him what had caused them. I remember well how his face changed as Ispoke, from kindliness to the hue of blackest hate, and how he answeredspeaking to himself rather than to me.

“Devils,” he said, “devils set on their work by the chief ofall devils that live upon the earth and shall reign in hell. Hark you, my sonThomas, there is a country called Spain where your mother was born, and therethese devils abide who torture men and women, aye, and burn them living in thename of Christ. I was betrayed into their hands by him whom I name the chief ofthe devils, though he is younger than I am by three years, and their pincersand hot irons left these marks upon me. Aye, and they would have burnt me alivealso, only I escaped, thanks to your mother—but such tales are not for alittle lad’s hearing; and see you never speak of them, Thomas, for theHoly Office has a long arm. You are half a Spaniard, Thomas, your skin and eyestell their own tale, but whatever skin and eyes may tell, let your heart givethem the lie. Keep your heart English, Thomas; let no foreign devilments enterthere. Hate all Spaniards except your mother, and be watchful lest her bloodshould master mine within you.”

I was a child then, and scarcely understood his words or what he meant by them.Afterwards I learned to understand them but too well. As for my father’scounsel, that I should conquer my Spanish blood, would that I could always havefollowed it, for I know that from this blood springs the most of such evil asis in me. Hence come my fixedness of purpose or rather obstinacy, and my powersof unchristian hatred that are not small towards those who have wronged me.Well, I have done what I might to overcome these and other faults, but striveas we may, that which is bred in the bone will out in the flesh, as I have seenin many signal instances.

There were three of us children, Geoffrey my elder brother, myself, and mysister Mary, who was one year my junior, the sweetest child and the mostbeautiful that I have ever known. We were very happy children, and our beautywas the pride of our father and mother, and the envy of other parents. I wasthe darkest of the three, dark indeed to swarthiness, but in Mary the Spanishblood showed only in her rich eyes of velvet hue, and in the glow upon hercheek that was like the blush on a ripe fruit. My mother used to call me herlittle Spaniard, because of my swarthiness, that is when my father was notnear, for such names angered him. She never learned to speak English very well,but he would suffer her to talk in no other tongue before him. Still, when hewas not there she spoke in Spanish, of which language, however, I alone of thefamily became a master—and that more because of certain volumes of oldSpanish romances which she had by her, than for any other reason. From myearliest childhood I was fond of such tales, and it was by bribing me with thepromise that I should read them that she persuaded me to learn Spanish. For mymother’s heart still yearned towards her old sunny home, and often shewould talk of it with us children, more especially in the winter season, whichshe hated as I do. Once I asked her if she wished to go back to Spain. Sheshivered and answered no, for there dwelt one who was her enemy and would killher; also her heart was with us children and our father. I wondered if this manwho sought to kill my mother was the same as he of whom my father had spoken as“the chief of the devils,” but I only answered that no man couldwish to kill one so good and beautiful.

“Ah! my boy,” she said, “it is just because I am, or ratherhave been, beautiful that he hates me. Others would have wedded me besides yourdear father, Thomas.” And her face grew troubled as though with fear.

Now when I was eighteen and a half years old, on a certain evening in the monthof May it happened that a friend of my father’s, Squire Bozard, late ofthe Hall in this parish, called at the Lodge on his road from Yarmouth, and inthe course of his talk let it fall that a Spanish ship was at anchor in theRoads, laden with merchandise. My father pricked up his ears at this, and askedwho her captain might be. Squire Bozard answered that he did not know his name,but that he had seen him in the market-place, a tall and stately man, richlydressed, with a handsome face and a scar upon his temple.

At this news my mother turned pale beneath her olive skin, and muttered inSpanish:

“Holy Mother! grant that it be not he.”

My father also looked frightened, and questioned the squire closely as to theman’s appearance, but without learning anything more. Then he bade himadieu with little ceremony, and taking horse rode away for Yarmouth.

That night my mother never slept, but sat all through it in her nursing chair,brooding over I know not what. As I left her when I went to my bed, so I foundher when I came from it at dawn. I can remember well pushing the door ajar tosee her face glimmering white in the twilight of the May morning, as she sat,her large eyes fixed upon the lattice.

“You have risen early, mother,” I said.

“I have never lain down, Thomas,” she answered.

“Why not? What do you fear?”

“I fear the past and the future, my son. Would that your father wereback.”

About ten o’clock of that morning, as I was making ready to walk intoBungay to the house of that physician under whom I was learning the art ofhealing, my father rode up. My mother, who was watching at the lattice, ran outto meet him.

Springing from his horse he embraced her, saying, “Be of good cheer,sweet, it cannot be he. This man has another name.”

“But did you see him?” she asked.

“No, he was out at his ship for the night, and I hurried home to tellyou, knowing your fears.”

“It were surer if you had seen him, husband. He may well have takenanother name.”

“I never thought of that, sweet,” my father answered; “buthave no fear. Should it be he, and should he dare to set foot in the parish ofDitchingham, there are those who will know how to deal with him. But I am surethat it is not he.”

“Thanks be to Jesu then!” she said, and they began talking in a lowvoice.

Now, seeing that I was not wanted, I took my cudgel and started down thebridle-path towards the common footbridge, when suddenly my mother called meback.

“Kiss me before you go, Thomas,” she said. “You must wonderwhat all this may mean. One day your father will tell you. It has to do with ashadow which has hung over my life for many years, but that is, I trust, gonefor ever.”

“If it be a man who flings it, he had best keep out of reach ofthis,” I said, laughing, and shaking my thick stick.

“It is a man,” she answered, “but one to be dealt withotherwise than by blows, Thomas, should you ever chance to meet him.”

“May be, mother, but might is the best argument at the last, for the mostcunning have a life to lose.”

“You are too ready to use your strength, son,” she said, smilingand kissing me. “Remember the old Spanish proverb: ‘He strikeshardest who strikes last.’”

“And remember the other proverb, mother: ‘Strike before thou artstricken,’” I answered, and went.

When I had gone some ten paces something prompted me to look back, I know notwhat. My mother was standing by the open door, her stately shape framed as itwere in the flowers of a white creeping shrub that grew upon the wall of theold house. As was her custom, she wore a mantilla of white lace upon her head,the ends of which were wound beneath her chin, and the arrangement of it wassuch that at this distance for one moment it put me in mind of the wrappingswhich are placed about the dead. I started at the thought and looked at herface. She was watching me with sad and earnest eyes that seemed to be filledwith the spirit of farewell.

I never saw her again till she was dead.

CHAPTER III
THE COMING OF THE SPANIARD

And now I must go back and speak of my own matters. As I have told, it was myfather’s wish that I should be a physician, and since I came back from myschooling at Norwich, that was when I had entered on my sixteenth year, I hadstudied medicine under the doctor who practised his art in the neighbourhood ofBungay. He was a very learned man and an honest, Grimstone by name, and as Ihad some liking for the business I made good progress under him. Indeed I hadlearned almost all that he could teach me, and my father purposed to send me toLondon, there to push on my studies, so soon as I should attain my twentiethyear, that is within some five months of the date of the coming of theSpaniard.

But it was not fated that I should go to London.

Medicine was not the only thing that I studied in those days, however. SquireBozard of Ditchingham, the same who told my father of the coming of the Spanishship, had two living children, a son and a daughter, though his wife had bornehim many more who died in infancy. The daughter was named Lily and of my ownage, having been born three weeks after me in the same year. Now the Bozardsare gone from these parts, for my great-niece, the granddaughter and soleheiress of this son, has married and has issue of another name. But this is bythe way.

From our earliest days we children, Bozards and Wingfields, lived almost asbrothers and sisters, for day by day we met and played together in the snow orin the flowers. Thus it would be hard for me to say when I began to love Lilyor when she began to love me; but I know that when first I went to school atNorwich I grieved more at losing sight of her than because I must part from mymother and the rest. In all our games she was ever my partner, and I wouldsearch the country round for days to find such flowers as she chanced to love.When I came back from school it was the same, though by degrees Lily grewshyer, and I also grew suddenly shy, perceiving that from a child she hadbecome a woman. Still we met often, and though neither said anything of it, itwas sweet to us to meet.

Thus things went on till this day of my mother’s death. But before I gofurther I must tell that Squire Bozard looked with no favour on the friendshipbetween his daughter and myself—and this, not because he disliked me, butrather because he would have seen Lily wedded to my elder brother Geoffrey, myfather’s heir, and not to a younger son. So hard did he grow about thematter at last that we two might scarcely meet except by seeming accident,whereas my brother was ever welcome at the Hall. And on this account somebitterness arose between us two brothers, as is apt to be the case when a womancomes between friends however close. For it must be known that my brotherGeoffrey also loved Lily, as all men would have loved her, and with a betterright perhaps than I had—for he was my elder by three years and born topossessions. It may seem indeed that I was somewhat hasty to fall into thisstate, seeing that at the time of which I write I was not yet of age; but youngblood is nimble, and moreover mine was half Spanish, and made a man of me whenmany a pure-bred Englishman is still nothing but a boy. For the blood and thesun that ripens it have much to do with such matters, as I have seen oftenenough among the Indian peoples of Anahuac, who at the age of fifteen will taketo themselves a bride of twelve. At the least it is certain that when I waseighteen years of age I was old enough to fall in love after such fashion thatI never fell out of it again altogether, although the history of my life mayseem to give me the lie when I say so. But I take it that a man may loveseveral women and yet love one of them the best of all, being true in thespirit to the law which he breaks in the letter.

Now when I had attained nineteen years I was a man full grown, and writing as Ido in extreme old age, I may say it without false shame, a very handsome youthto boot. I was not over tall, indeed, measuring but five feet nine inches and ahalf in height, but my limbs were well made, and I was both deep and broad inthe chest. In colour I was, and my white hair notwithstanding, am stillextraordinarily dark hued, my eyes also were large and dark, and my hair, whichwas wavy, was coal black. In my deportment I was reserved and grave to sadness,in speech I was slow and temperate, and more apt at listening than in talking.I weighed matters well before I made up my mind upon them, but being made up,nothing could turn me from that mind short of death itself, whether it were seton good or evil, on folly or wisdom. In those days also I had little religion,since, partly because of my father’s secret teaching and partly throughthe workings of my own reason, I had learned to doubt the doctrines of theChurch as they used to be set out. Youth is prone to reason by large leaps asit were, and to hold that all things are false because some are proved false;and thus at times in those days I thought that there was no God, because thepriest said that the image of the Virgin at Bungay wept and did other thingswhich I knew that it did not do. Now I know well that there is a God, for myown story proves it to my heart. In truth, what man can look back across a longlife and say that there is no God, when he can see the shadow of His hand lyingdeep upon his tale of years?

On this sad day of which I write I knew that Lily, whom I loved, would bewalking alone beneath the great pollard oaks in the park of Ditchingham Hall.Here, in Grubswell as the spot is called, grew, and indeed still grow, certainhawthorn trees that are the earliest to blow of any in these parts, and when wehad met at the church door on the Sunday, Lily said that there would be bloomupon them by the Wednesday, and on that afternoon she should go to cut it. Itmay well be that she spoke thus with design, for love will breed cunning in theheart of the most guileless and truthful maid. Moreover, I noticed that thoughshe said it before her father and the rest of us, yet she waited to speak tillmy brother Geoffrey was out of hearing, for she did not wish to go maying withhim, and also that as she spoke she shot a glance of her grey eyes at me. Thenand there I vowed to myself that I also would be gathering hawthorn bloom inthis same place and on that Wednesday afternoon, yes, even if I must playtruant and leave all the sick of Bungay to Nature’s nursing. Moreover, Iwas determined on one thing, that if I could find Lily alone I would delay nolonger, but tell her all that was in my heart; no great secret indeed, forthough no word of love had ever passed between us as yet, each knew theother’s hidden thoughts. Not that I was in the way to become affianced toa maid, who had my path to cut in the world, but I feared that if I delayed tomake sure of her affection my brother would be before me with her father, andLily might yield to that to which she would not yield if once we had plightedtroth.

Now it chanced that on this afternoon I was hard put to it to escape to mytryst, for my master, the physician, was ailing, and sent me to visit the sickfor him, carrying them their medicines. At the last, however, between four andfive o’clock, I fled, asking no leave. Taking the Norwich road I ran fora mile and more till I had passed the Manor House and the church turn, and drewnear to Ditchingham Park. Then I dropped my pace to a walk, for I did not wishto come before Lily heated and disordered, but rather looking my best, to whichend I had put on my Sunday garments. Now as I went down the little hill in theroad that runs past the park, I saw a man on horseback who looked first at thebridle-path, that at this spot turns off to the right, then back across thecommon lands towards the Vineyard Hills and the Waveney, and then along theroad as though he did not know which way to turn. I was quick to noticethings—though at this moment my mind was not at its swiftest, being seton other matters, and chiefly as to how I should tell my tale to Lily—andI saw at once that this man was not of our country.

He was very tall and noble-looking, dressed in rich garments of velvet adornedby a gold chain that hung about his neck, and as I judged about forty years ofage. But it was his face which chiefly caught my eye, for at that moment therewas something terrible about it. It was long, thin, and deeply carved; the eyeswere large, and gleamed like gold in sunlight; the mouth was small and wellshaped, but it wore a devilish and cruel sneer; the forehead lofty, indicatinga man of mind, and marked with a slight scar. For the rest the cavalier wasdark and southern-looking, his curling hair, like my own, was black, and hewore a peaked chestnut-coloured beard.

By the time that I had finished these observations my feet had brought mealmost to the stranger’s side, and for the first time he caught sight ofme. Instantly his face changed, the sneer left it, and it became kindly andpleasant looking. Lifting his bonnet with much courtesy he stammered somethingin broken English, of which all that I could catch was the word Yarmouth; thenperceiving that I did not understand him, he cursed the English tongue and allthose who spoke it, aloud and in good Castilian.

“If the señor will graciously express his wish in Spanish,” I said,speaking in that language, “it may be in my power to help him.”

“What! you speak Spanish, young sir,” he said, starting, “andyet you are not a Spaniard, though by your face you well might be. Caramba! butit is strange!” and he eyed me curiously.

“It may be strange, sir,” I answered, “but I am in haste. Bepleased to ask your question and let me go.”

“Ah!” he said, “perhaps I can guess the reason of your hurry.I saw a white robe down by the streamlet yonder,” and he nodded towardsthe park. “Take the advice of an older man, young sir, and be careful.Make what sport you will with such, but never believe them and never marrythem—lest you should live to desire to kill them!”

Here I made as though I would pass on, but he spoke again.

“Pardon my words, they were well meant, and perhaps you may come to learntheir truth. I will detain you no more. Will you graciously direct me on myroad to Yarmouth, for I am not sure of it, having ridden by another way, andyour English country is so full of trees that a man cannot see a mile?”

I walked a dozen paces down the bridle-path that joined the road at this place,and pointed out the way that he should go, past Ditchingham church. As I did soI noticed that while I spoke the stranger was watching my face keenly and, asit seemed to me, with an inward fear which he strove to master and could not.When I had finished again he raised his bonnet and thanked me, saying,

“Will you be so gracious as to tell me your name, young Sir?”

“What is my name to you?” I answered roughly, for I disliked thisman. “You have not told me yours.”

“No, indeed, I am travelling incognito. Perhaps I also have met a lady inthese parts,” and he smiled strangely. “I only wished to know thename of one who had done me a courtesy, but who it seems is not so courteous asI deemed.” And he shook his horse’s reins.

“I am not ashamed of my name,” I said. “It has been an honestone so far, and if you wish to know it, it is Thomas Wingfield.”

“I thought it,” he cried, and as he spoke his face grew like theface of a fiend. Then before I could find time even to wonder, he had sprungfrom his horse and stood within three paces of me.

“A lucky day! Now we will see what truth there is in prophecies,”he said, drawing his silver-mounted sword. “A name for a name; Juan deGarcia gives you greeting, Thomas Wingfield.”

Now, strange as it may seem, it was at this moment only that there flashedacross my mind the thought of all that I had heard about the Spanish stranger,the report of whose coming to Yarmouth had stirred my father and mother sodeeply. At any other time I should have remembered it soon enough, but on thisday I was so set upon my tryst with Lily and what I should say to her, thatnothing else could hold a place in my thoughts.

“This must be the man,” I said to myself, and then I said no more,for he was on me, sword up. I saw the keen point flash towards me, and sprangto one side having a desire to fly, as, being unarmed except for my stick, Imight have done without shame. But spring as I would I could not avoid thethrust altogether. It was aimed at my heart and it pierced the sleeve of myleft arm, passing through the flesh—no more. Yet at the pain of that cutall thought of flight left me, and instead of it a cold anger filled me,causing me to wish to kill this man who had attacked me thus and unprovoked. Inmy hand was my stout oaken staff which I had cut myself on the banks of HollowHill, and if I would fight I must make such play with this as I might. It seemsa poor weapon indeed to match against a Toledo blade in the hands of one whocould handle it well, and yet there are virtues in a cudgel, for when a mansees himself threatened with it, he is likely to forget that he holds in hishand a more deadly weapon, and to take to the guarding of his own head in placeof running his adversary through the body.

And that was what chanced in this case, though how it came about exactly Icannot tell. The Spaniard was a fine swordsman, and had I been armed as he waswould doubtless have overmatched me, who at that age had no practice in theart, which was almost unknown in England. But when he saw the big stickflourished over him he forgot his own advantage, and raised his arm to wardaway the blow. Down it came upon the back of his hand, and lo! his sword fellfrom it to the grass. But I did not spare him because of that, for my blood wasup. The next stroke took him on the lips, knocking out a tooth and sending himbackwards. Then I caught him by the leg and beat him most unmercifully, notupon the head indeed, for now that I was victor I did not wish to kill one whomI thought a madman as I would that I had done, but on every other part of him.

Indeed I thrashed him till my arms were weary and then I fell to kicking him,and all the while he writhed like a wounded snake and cursed horribly, thoughhe never cried out or asked for mercy. At last I ceased and looked at him, andhe was no pretty sight to see—indeed, what with his cuts and bruises andthe mire of the roadway, it would have been hard to know him for the gallantcavalier whom I had met not five minutes before. But uglier than all his hurtswas the look in his wicked eyes as he lay there on his back in the pathway andglared up at me.

“Now, friend Spaniard,” I said, “you have learned a lesson;and what is there to hinder me from treating you as you would have dealt withme who had never harmed you?” and I took up his sword and held it to histhroat.

“Strike home, you accursed whelp!” he answered in a broken voice;“it is better to die than to live to remember such shame as this.”

“No,” I said, “I am no foreign murderer to kill a defencelessman. You shall away to the justice to answer for yourself. The hangman has arope for such as you.”

“Then you must drag me thither,” he groaned, and shut his eyes asthough with faintness, and doubtless he was somewhat faint.

Now as I pondered on what should be done with the villain, it chanced that Ilooked up through a gap in the fence, and there, among the Grubswell Oaks threehundred yards or more away, I caught sight of the flutter of a white robe thatI knew well, and it seemed to me that the wearer of that robe was movingtowards the bridge of the “watering” as though she were weary ofwaiting for one who did not come.

Then I thought to myself that if I stayed to drag this man to the villagestocks or some other safe place, there would be an end of meeting with my lovethat day, and I did not know when I might find another chance. Now I would nothave missed that hour’s talk with Lily to bring a score ofmurderous-minded foreigners to their deserts, and, moreover, this one hadearned good payment for his behaviour. Surely, thought I, he might wait a whiletill I had done my love-making, and if he would not wait I could find a meansto make him do so. Not twenty paces from us the horse stood cropping the grass.I went to him and undid his bridle rein, and with it fastened the Spaniard to asmall wayside tree as best I was able.

“Now, here you stay,” I said, “till I am ready to fetchyou;” and I turned to go.

But as I went a great doubt took me, and once more I remembered mymother’s fear, and how my father had ridden in haste to Yarmouth onbusiness about a Spaniard. Now to-day a Spaniard had wandered to Ditchingham,and when he learned my name had fallen upon me madly trying to kill me. Was notthis the man whom my mother feared, and was it right that I should leave himthus that I might go maying with my dear? I knew in my breast that it was notright, but I was so set upon my desire and so strongly did my heartstrings pullme towards her whose white robe now fluttered on the slope of the Park Hill,that I never heeded the warning.

Well had it been for me if I had done so, and well for some who were yetunborn. Then they had never known death, nor I the land of exile, the taste ofslavery, and the altar of sacrifice.

CHAPTER IV
THOMAS TELLS HIS LOVE

Having made the Spaniard as fast as I could, his arms being bound to the treebehind him, and taking his sword with me, I began to run hard after Lily andcaught her not too soon, for in one more minute she would have turned along theroad that runs to the watering and over the bridge by the Park Hill path to theHall.

Hearing my footsteps, she faced about to greet me, or rather as though to seewho it was that followed her. There she stood in the evening light, a bough ofhawthorn bloom in her hand, and my heart beat yet more wildly at the sight ofher. Never had she seemed fairer than as she stood thus in her white robe, alook of amaze upon her face and in her grey eyes, that was half real halffeigned, and with the sunlight shifting on her auburn hair that showed beneathher little bonnet. Lily was no round-checked country maid with few beautiessave those of health and youth, but a tall and shapely lady who had ripenedearly to her full grace and sweetness, and so it came about that though we werealmost of an age, yet in her presence I felt always as though I were theyounger. Thus in my love for her was mingled some touch of reverence.

“Oh! it is you, Thomas,” she said, blushing as she spoke. “Ithought you were not—I mean that I am going home as it grows late. Butsay, why do you run so fast, and what has happened to you, Thomas, that yourarm is bloody and you carry a sword in your hand?”

“I have no breath to speak yet,” I answered. “Come back tothe hawthorns and I will tell you.”

“No, I must be wending homewards. I have been among the trees for morethan an hour, and there is little bloom upon them.”

“I could not come before, Lily. I was kept, and in a strange manner. AlsoI saw bloom as I ran.”

“Indeed, I never thought that you would come, Thomas,” sheanswered, looking down, “who have other things to do than to go outmaying like a girl. But I wish to hear your story, if it is short, and I willwalk a little way with you.”

So we turned and walked side by side towards the great pollard oaks, and by thetime that we reached them, I had told her the tale of the Spaniard, and how hestrove to kill me, and how I had beaten him with my staff. Now Lily listenedeagerly enough, and sighed with fear when she learned how close I had been todeath.

“But you are wounded, Thomas,” she broke in; “see, the bloodruns fast from your arm. Is the thrust deep?”

“I have not looked to see. I have had no time to look.”

“Take off your coat, Thomas, that I may dress the wound. Nay, I will haveit so.”

So I drew off the garment, not without pain, and rolled up the shirt beneath,and there was the hurt, a clean thrust through the fleshy part of the lowerarm. Lily washed it with water from the brook, and bound it with her kerchief,murmuring words of pity all the while. To say truth, I would have suffered aworse harm gladly, if only I could find her to tend it. Indeed, her gentle carebroke down the fence of my doubts and gave me a courage that otherwise mighthave failed me in her presence. At first, indeed, I could find no words, but asshe bound my wound, I bent down and kissed her ministering hand. She flushedred as the evening sky, the flood of crimson losing itself at last beneath herauburn hair, but it burned deepest upon the white hand which I had kissed.

“Why did you do that, Thomas?” she said, in a low voice.

Then I spoke. “I did it because I love you, Lily, and do not know how tobegin the telling of my love. I love you, dear, and have always loved as Ialways shall love you.”

“Are you so sure of that, Thomas?” she said, again.

“There is nothing else in the world of which I am so sure, Lily. What Iwish to be as sure of is that you love me as I love you.”

For a moment she stood quiet, her head sunk almost to her breast, then shelifted it and her eyes shone as I had never seen them shine before.

“Can you doubt it, Thomas?” she said.

And now I took her in my arms and kissed her on the lips, and the memory ofthat kiss has gone with me through my long life, and is with me yet, when, oldand withered, I stand upon the borders of the grave. It was the greatest joythat has been given to me in all my days. Too soon, alas! it was done, thatfirst pure kiss of youthful love—and I spoke again somewhat aimlessly.

“It seems then that you do love me who love you so well.”

“If you doubted it before, can you doubt it now?” sheanswered very softly. “But listen, Thomas. It is well that we should loveeach other, for we were born to it, and have no help in the matter, even if wewished to find it. Still, though love be sweet and holy, it is not all, forthere is duty to be thought of, and what will my father say to this,Thomas?”

“I do not know, Lily, and yet I can guess. I am sure, sweet, that hewishes you to take my brother Geoffrey, and leave me on one side.”

“Then his wishes are not mine, Thomas. Also, though duty be strong, it isnot strong enough to force a woman to a marriage for which she has no liking.Yet it may prove strong enough to keep a woman from a marriage for which herheart pleads—perhaps, also, it should have been strong enough to hold meback from the telling of my love.”

“No, Lily, the love itself is much, and though it should bring no fruit,still it is something to have won it for ever and a day.”

“You are very young to talk thus, Thomas. I am also young, I know, but wewomen ripen quicker. Perhaps all this is but a boy’s fancy, to pass withboyhood.”

“It will never pass, Lily. They say that our first loves are the longest,and that which is sown in youth will flourish in our age. Listen, Lily; I havemy place to make in the world, and it may take a time in the making, and I askone promise of you, though perhaps it is a selfish thing to seek. I ask of youthat you will be faithful to me, and come fair weather or foul, will wed noother man till you know me dead.”

“It is something to promise, Thomas, for with time come changes. Still Iam so sure of myself that I promise—nay I swear it. Of you I cannot besure, but things are so with us women that we must risk all upon a throw, andif we lose, good-bye to happiness.”

Then we talked on, and I cannot remember what we said, though these words thatI have written down remain in my mind, partly because of their own weight, andin part because of all that came about in the after years.

And at last I knew that I must go, though we were sad enough at parting. So Itook her in my arms and kissed her so closely that some blood from my wound randown her white attire. But as we embraced I chanced to look up, and saw a sightthat frightened me enough. For there, not five paces from us, stood SquireBozard, Lily’s father, watching all, and his face wore no smile.

He had been riding by a bridle-path to the watering ford, and seeing a coupletrespassing beneath the oaks, dismounted from his horse to hunt them away. Nottill he was quite near did he know whom he came to hunt, and then he stoodstill in astonishment. Lily and I drew slowly apart and looked at him. He was ashort stout man, with a red face and stern grey eyes, that seemed to bestarting from his head with anger. For a while he could not speak, but when hebegan at length the words came fast enough. All that he said I forget, but theupshot of it was that he desired to know what my business was with hisdaughter. I waited till he was out of breath, then answered him that Lily and Iloved each other well, and were plighting our troth.

“Is this so, daughter?” he asked.

“It is so, my father,” she answered boldly.

Then he broke out swearing. “You light minx,” he said, “youshall be whipped and kept cool on bread and water in your chamber. And for you,my half-bred Spanish cockerel, know once and for all that this maid is for yourbetters. How dare you come wooing my daughter, you empty pill-box, who have nottwo silver pennies to rattle in your pouch! Go win fortune and a name beforeyou dare to look up to such as she.”

“That is my desire, and I will do it, sir,” I answered.

“So, you apothecary’s drudge, you will win name and place, willyou! Well, long before that deed is done the maid shall be safely wedded to onewho has them and who is not unknown to you. Daughter, say now that you havefinished with him.”

“I cannot say that, father,” she replied, plucking at her robe.“If it is not your will that I should marry Thomas here, my duty is plainand I may not wed him. But I am my own and no duty can make me marry where Iwill not. While Thomas lives I am sworn to him and to no other man.”

“At the least you have courage, hussey,” said her father.“But listen now, either you will marry where and when I wish, or tramp itfor your bread. Ungrateful girl, did I breed you to flaunt me to my face? Nowfor you, pill-box. I will teach you to come kissing honest men’sdaughters without their leave,” and with a curse he rushed at me, stickaloft, to thrash me.

Then for the second time that day my quick blood boiled in me, and snatching upthe Spaniard’s sword that lay upon the grass beside me, I held it at thepoint, for the game was changed, and I who had fought with cudgel againstsword, must now fight with sword against cudgel. And had it not been that Lilywith a quick cry of fear struck my arm from beneath, causing the point of thesword to pass over his shoulder, I believe truly that I should then and therehave pierced her father through, and ended my days early with a noose about myneck.

“Are you mad?” she cried. “And do you think to win me byslaying my father? Throw down that sword, Thomas.”

“As for winning you, it seems that there is small chance of it;” Ianswered hotly, “but I tell you this, not for the sake of all the maidsupon the earth will I stand to be beaten with a stick like a scullion.”

“And there I do not blame you, lad,” said her father, more kindly.“I see that you also have courage which may serve you in good stead, andit was unworthy of me to call you ‘pill-box’ in my anger. Still, asI have said, the girl is not for you, so be gone and forget her as best youmay, and if you value your life, never let me find you two kissing again. Andknow that to-morrow I will have a word with your father on this matter.”

“I will go since I must go,” I answered, “but, sir, I stillhope to live to call your daughter wife. Lily, farewell till these storms areoverpast.”

“Farewell, Thomas,” she said weeping. “Forget me not and Iwill never forget my oath to you.”

Then taking Lily by the arm her father led her away.

I also went away—sad, but not altogether ill-pleased. For now I knew thatif I had won the father’s anger, I had also won the daughter’sunalterable love, and love lasts longer than wrath, and here or hereafter willwin its way at length. When I had gone a little distance I remembered theSpaniard, who had been clean forgotten by me in all this love and war, and Iturned to seek him and drag him to the stocks, the which I should have donewith joy, and been glad to find some one on whom to wreak my wrongs. But when Icame to the spot where I had left him, I found that fate had befriended him bythe hand of a fool, for there was no Spaniard but only the village idiot, BillyMinns by name, who stood staring first at the tree to which the foreigner hadbeen made fast, and then at a piece of silver in his hand.

“Where is the man who was tied here, Billy?” I asked.

“I know not, Master Thomas,” he answered in his Norfolk talk whichI will not set down. “Half-way to wheresoever he was going I should say,measured by the pace at which he left when once I had set him upon hishorse.”

“You set him on his horse, fool? How long was that ago?”

“How long! Well, it might be one hour, and it might be two. I’m noreckoner of time, that keeps its own score like an innkeeper, without my help.Lawks! how he did gallop off, working those long spurs he wore right into theribs of the horse. And little wonder, poor man, and he daft, not being able tospeak, but only to bleat sheeplike, and fallen upon by robbers on theking’s roads, and in broad daylight. But Billy cut him loose and caughthis horse and set him on it, and got this piece for his good charity. Lawks!but he was glad to be gone. How he did gallop!”

“Now you are a bigger fool even than I thought you, Billy Minns,” Isaid in anger. “That man would have murdered me, I overcame him and madehim fast, and you have let him go.”

“He would have murdered you, Master, and you made him fast! Then why didyou not stop to keep him till I came along, and we would have haled him to thestocks? That would have been sport and all. You call me fool—but if youfound a man covered with blood and hurts tied to a tree, and he daft and notable to speak, had you not cut him loose? Well, he’s gone, and this aloneis left of him,” and he spun the piece into the air.

Now, seeing that there was reason in Billy’s talk, for the fault wasmine, I turned away without more words, not straight homewards, for I wished tothink alone awhile on all that had come about between me and Lily and herfather, but down the way which runs across the lane to the crest of theVineyard Hills. These hills are clothed with underwood, in which large oaksgrow to within some two hundred yards of this house where I write, and thisunderwood is pierced by paths that my mother laid out, for she loved to walkhere. One of these paths runs along the bottom of the hill by the edge of thepleasant river Waveney, and the other a hundred feet or more above and near thecrest of the slope, or to speak more plainly, there is but one path shaped likethe letter O, placed thus ⬭, the curved ends of the letter marking howthe path turns upon the hill-side.

Now I struck the path at the end that is furthest from this house, and followedthat half of it which runs down by the river bank, having the water on one sideof it and the brushwood upon the other. Along this lower path I wandered, myeyes fixed upon the ground, thinking deeply as I went, now of the joy ofLily’s love, and now of the sorrow of our parting and of herfather’s wrath. As I went, thus wrapped in meditation, I saw somethingwhite lying upon the grass, and pushed it aside with the point of theSpaniard’s sword, not heeding it. Still, its shape and fashioningremained in my mind, and when I had left it some three hundred paces behind me,and was drawing near to the house, the sight of it came back to me as it laysoft and white upon the grass, and I knew that it was familiar to my eyes. Fromthe thing, whatever it might be, my mind passed to the Spaniard’s swordwith which I had tossed it aside, and from the sword to the man himself. Whathad been his business in this parish?—an ill one surely—and why hadhe looked as though he feared me and fallen upon me when he learned my name?

I stood still, looking downward, and my eyes fell upon footprints stamped inthe wet sand of the path. One of them was my mother’s. I could have swornto it among a thousand, for no other woman in these parts had so delicate afoot. Close to it, as though following after, was another that at first Ithought must also have been made by a woman, it was so narrow. But presently Isaw that this could scarcely be, because of its length, and moreover, that theboot which left it was like none that I knew, being cut very high at the instepand very pointed at the toe. Then, of a sudden, it came upon me that theSpanish stranger wore such boots, for I had noted them while I talked with him,and that his feet were following those of my mother, for they had trodden onher track, and in some places, his alone had stamped their impress on the sandblotting out her footprints. Then, too, I knew what the white rag was that Ihad thrown aside. It was my mother’s mantilla which I knew, and yet didnot know, because I always saw it set daintily upon her head. In a moment ithad come home to me, and with the knowledge a keen and sickening dread. Why hadthis man followed my mother, and why did her mantilla lie thus upon the ground?

I turned and sped like a deer back to where I had seen the lace. All the waythe footprints went before me. Now I was there. Yes, the wrapping was hers, andit had been rent as though by a rude hand; but where was she?

With a beating heart once more I bent to read the writing of the footsteps.Here they were mixed one with another, as though the two had stood closetogether, moving now this way and now that in struggle. I looked up the path,but there were none. Then I cast round about like a beagle, first along theriver side, then up the bank. Here they were again, and made by feet that flewand feet that followed. Up the bank they went fifty yards and more, now lostwhere the turf was sound, now seen in sand or loam, till they led to the boleof a big oak, and were once more mixed together, for here the pursuer had comeup with the pursued.

Despairingly as one who dreams, for now I guessed all and grew mad with fear, Ilooked this way and that, till at length I found more footsteps, those of theSpaniard. These were deep marked, as of a man who carried some heavy burden. Ifollowed them; first they went down the hill towards the river, then turnedaside to a spot where the brushwood was thick. In the deepest of the clump theboughs, now bursting into leaf, were bent downwards as though to hide somethingbeneath. I wrenched them aside, and there, gleaming whitely in the gatheringtwilight was the dead face of my mother.

CHAPTER V
THOMAS SWEARS AN OATH

For a while I stood amazed with horror, staring down at the dead face of mybeloved mother. Then I stooped to lift her and saw that she had been stabbed,and through the breast, stabbed with the sword which I carried in my hand.

Now I understood. This was the work of that Spanish stranger whom I had met ashe hurried from the place of murder, who, because of the wickedness of hisheart or for some secret reason, had striven to slay me also when he learnedthat I was my mother’s son. And I had held this devil in my power, andthat I might meet my May, I had suffered him to escape my vengeance, who, had Iknown the truth, would have dealt with him as the priests of Anahuac deal withthe victims of their gods. I understood and shed tears of pity, rage, andshame. Then I turned and fled homewards like one mad.

At the doorway I met my father and my brother Geoffrey riding up from Bungaymarket, and there was that written on my face which caused them to ask as withone voice:

“What evil thing has happened?”

Thrice I looked at my father before I could speak, for I feared lest the blowshould kill him. But speak I must at last, though I chose that it should be toGeoffrey my brother. “Our mother lies murdered yonder on the VineyardHill. A Spanish man has done the deed, Juan de Garcia by name.” When myfather heard these words his face became livid as though with pain of theheart, his jaw fell and a low moan issued from his open mouth. Presently herested his hand upon the pommel of the saddle, and lifting his ghastly face hesaid:

“Where is this Spaniard? Have you killed him?”

“No, father. He chanced upon me in Grubswell, and when he learned my namehe would have murdered me. But I played quarter staff with him and beat him toa pulp, taking his sword.”

“Ay, and then?”

“And then I let him go, knowing nothing of the deed he had alreadywrought upon our mother. Afterwards I will tell you all.”

“You let him go, son! You let Juan de Garcia go! Then, Thomas, may thecurse of God rest upon you till you find him and finish that which you beganto-day.”

“Spare to curse me, father, who am accursed by my own conscience. Turnyour horses rather and ride for Yarmouth, for there his ship lies and thitherhe has gone with two hours’ start. Perhaps you may still trap him beforehe sets sail.”

Without another word my father and brother wheeled their horses round anddeparted at full gallop into the gloom of the gathering night.

They rode so fiercely that, their horses being good, they came to the gates ofYarmouth in little more than an hour and a half, and that is fast riding. Butthe bird was flown. They tracked him to the quay and found that he had shippeda while before in a boat which was in waiting for him, and passed to his vesselthat lay in the Roads at anchor but with the most of her canvas set. Instantlyshe sailed, and now was lost in the night. Then my father caused notice to begiven that he would pay reward of two hundred pieces in gold to any ship thatshould capture the Spaniard, and two started on the quest, but they did notfind her that before morning was far on her way across the sea.

So soon as they had galloped away I called together the grooms and otherserving men and told them what had chanced. Then we went with lanterns, for bynow it was dark, and came to the thick brushwood where lay the body of mymother. I drew near the first, for the men were afraid, and so indeed was I,though why I should fear her lying dead who living had loved me tenderly, I donot know. Yet I know this, that when I came to the spot and saw two eyesglowering at me and heard the crash of bushes as something broke them, I couldalmost have fallen with fear, although I knew well that it was but a fox orwandering hound haunting the place of death.

Still I went on, calling the others to follow, and the end of it was that welaid my mother’s body upon a door which had been lifted from its hinges,and bore her home for the last time. And to me that path is still a hauntedplace. It is seventy years and more since my mother died by the hand of Juan deGarcia her cousin, yet old as I am and hardened to such sad scenes, I do notlove to walk that path alone at night.

Doubtless it was fancy which plays us strange tricks, still but a year ago,having gone to set a springe for a woodcock, I chanced to pass by yonder bigoak upon a November eve, and I could have sworn that I saw it all again. I sawmyself a lad, my wounded arm still bound with Lily’s kerchief, climbingslowly down the hill-side, while behind me, groaning beneath their burden, werethe forms of the four serving men. I heard the murmur of the river and the windthat seventy years ago whispered in the reeds. I saw the clouded sky flawedhere and there with blue, and the broken light that gleamed on the white burdenstretched upon the door, and the red stain at its breast. Ay, I heard myselftalk as I went forward with the lantern, bidding the men pass to the right ofsome steep and rotten ground, and it was strange to me to listen to my ownvoice as it had been in youth. Well, well, it was but a dream, yet such slavesare we to the fears of fancy, that because of the dead, I, who am almost oftheir number, do not love to pass that path at night.

At length we came home with our burden, and the women took it weeping and setabout their task with it. And now I must not only fight my own sorrows but muststrive to soothe those of my sister Mary, who as I feared would go mad withgrief and horror. At last she sobbed herself into a torpor, and I went andquestioned the men who sat round the fire in the kitchen, for none sought theirbeds that night. From them I learned that an hour or more before I met theSpaniard, a richly-dressed stranger had been seen walking along thechurch-path, and that he had tied his horse among some gorse and brambles onthe top of the hill, where he stood as though in doubt, till my mother cameout, when he descended and followed her. Also I learned that one of the men atwork in the garden, which is not more than three hundred paces from where thedeed was done, heard cries, but had taken no note of them, thinking forsooththat it was but the play of some lover from Bungay and his lass chasing eachother through the woods, as to this hour it is their fashion to do. Truly itseemed to me that day as though this parish of Ditchingham were the verynursery of fools, of whom I was the first and biggest, and indeed this samethought has struck me since concerning other matters.

At length the morning came, and with it my father and brother, who returnedfrom Yarmouth on hired horses, for their own were spent. In the afternoon alsonews followed them that the ships which had put to sea on the track of theSpaniard had been driven back by bad weather, having seen nothing of him.

Now I told all the story of my dealings with the murderer of my mother, keepingnothing back, and I must bear my father’s bitter anger because knowingthat my mother was in dread of a Spaniard, I had suffered my reason to be ledastray by my desire to win speech with my love. Nor did I meet with any comfortfrom my brother Geoffrey, who was fierce against me because he learned that Ihad not pleaded in vain with the maid whom he desired for himself. But he saidnothing of this reason. Also that no drop might be lacking in my cup, SquireBozard, who came with many other neighbours to view the corpse and offersympathy with my father in his loss, told him at the same time that he took itill that I should woo his daughter against his wish, and that if I continued inthis course it would strain their ancient friendship. Thus I was hit on everyside; by sorrow for my mother whom I had loved tenderly, by longing for my dearwhom I might not see, by self-reproach because I had let the Spaniard go when Iheld him fast, and by the anger of my father and my brother. Indeed those dayswere so dark and bitter, for I was at the age when shame and sorrow sting theirsharpest, that I wished that I were dead beside my mother. One comfort reachedme indeed, a message from Lily sent by a servant girl whom she trusted, givingme her dear love and bidding me to be of good cheer.

At length came the day of burial, and my mother, wrapped in fair white robes,was laid to her rest in the chancel of the church at Ditchingham, where myfather has long been set beside her, hard by the brass effigies that mark theburying place of Lily’s forefather, his wife, and many of their children.This funeral was the saddest of sights, for the bitterness of my father’sgrief broke from him in sobs and my sister Mary swooned away in my arms. Indeedthere were few dry eyes in all that church, for my mother, notwithstanding herforeign birth, was much loved because of her gentle ways and the goodness ofher heart. But it came to an end, and the noble Spanish lady and English wifewas left to her long sleep in the ancient church, where she shall rest on whenher tragic story and her very name are forgotten among men. Indeed this islikely to be soon, for I am the last of the Wingfields alive in these parts,though my sister Mary has left descendants of another name to whom my lands andfortune go except for certain gifts to the poor of Bungay and of Ditchingham.

When it was over I went back home. My father was sitting in the front room wellnigh beside himself with grief, and by him was my brother. Presently he beganto assail me with bitter words because I had let the murderer go when God gavehim into my hand.

“You forget, father,” sneered Geoffrey, “Thomas woos a maid,and it was more to him to hold her in his arms than to keep his mother’smurderer safely. But by this it seems he has killed two birds with one stone,he has suffered the Spanish devil to escape when he knew that our mother fearedthe coming of a Spaniard, and he has made enmity between us and Squire Bozard,our good neighbour, who strangely enough does not favour his wooing.”

“It is so,” said my father. “Thomas, your mother’sblood is on your hands.”

I listened and could bear this goading injustice no longer.

“It is false,” I said, “I say it even to my father. The manhad killed my mother before I met him riding back to seek his ship at Yarmouthand having lost his way; how then is her blood upon my hands? As for my wooingof Lily Bozard, that is my matter, brother, and not yours, though perhaps youwish that it was yours and not mine. Why, father, did you not tell me what youfeared of this Spaniard? I heard some loose talk only and gave little thoughtto it, my mind being full of other things. And now I will say something. Youcalled down God’s curse upon me, father, till such time as I should findthis murderer and finish what I had begun. So be it! Let God’s curse restupon me till I do find him. I am young, but I am quick and strong, and so soonas may be I start for Spain to hunt him there till I shall run him down or knowhim to be dead. If you will give me money to help me on my quest, so beit—if not I go without. I swear before God and by my mother’sspirit that I will neither rest nor stay till with the very sword that slewher, I have avenged her blood upon her murderer or know him dead, and if Isuffer myself to be led astray from the purpose of this oath by aught that is,then may a worse end than hers overtake me, may my soul be rejected in heaven,and my name be shameful for ever upon the earth!”

Thus I swore in my rage and anguish, holding up my hand to heaven that I calledupon to witness the oath.

My father looked at me keenly. “If that is your mind, son Thomas, youshall not lack for money. I would go myself, for blood must be wiped out withblood, but I am too broken in my health; also I am known in Spain and the HolyOffice would claim me there. Go, and my blessing go with you. It is right thatyou should go, for it is through your folly that our enemy has escapedus.”

“Yes, it is right that he should go,” said Geoffrey.

“You say that because you wish to be rid of me, Geoffrey,” Ianswered hotly, “and you would be rid of me because you desire to take myplace at the side of a certain maid. Follow your nature and do as you will, butif you would outwit an absent man no good shall come to you of it.”

“The girl is to him who can win her,” he said.

“The girl’s heart is won already, Geoffrey. You may buy her fromher father but you can never win her heart, and without a heart she will be buta poor prize.”

“Peace! now is no time for such talk of love and maids,” said myfather, “and listen. This is the tale of the Spanish murderer and yourmother. I have said nothing of it heretofore, but now it must out. When I was alad it happened that I also went to Spain because my father willed it. I wentto a monastery at Seville, but I had no liking for monks and their ways, and Ibroke out from the monastery. For a year or more I made my living as I bestmight, for I feared to return to England as a runaway. Still I made a livingand not a bad one, now in this way and now in that, but though I am ashamed tosay it, mostly by gaming, at which I had great luck. One night I met this manJuan de Garcia—for in his hate he gave you his true name when he wouldhave stabbed you—at play. Even then he had an evil fame, though he wasscarcely more than a lad, but he was handsome in person, set high in birth, andof a pleasing manner. It chanced that he won of me at the dice, and being in agood humour, he took me to visit at the house of his aunt, his uncle’swidow, a lady of Seville. This aunt had one child, a daughter, and thatdaughter was your mother. Now your mother, Luisa de Garcia, was affianced toher cousin Juan de Garcia, not with her own will indeed, for the contract hadbeen signed when she was only eight years old. Still it was binding, morebinding indeed than in this country, being a marriage in all except in fact.But those women who are thus bound for the most part bear no wife’s lovein their hearts, and so it was with your mother. Indeed she both hated andfeared her cousin Juan, though I think that he loved her more than anything onearth, and by one pretext and another she contrived to bring him to anagreement that no marriage should be celebrated till she was full twenty yearsof age. But the colder she was to him, the more was he inflamed with desire towin her and also her possessions, which were not small, for like all Spaniardshe was passionate, and like most gamesters and men of evil life, much in wantof money.

“Now to be brief, from the first moment that your mother and I set eyeson each other we loved one another, and it was our one desire to meet as oftenas might be; and in this we had no great difficulty, for her mother also fearedand hated Juan de Garcia, her nephew by marriage, and would have seen herdaughter clear of him if possible. The end of it was that I told my love, and aplot was made between us that we should fly to England. But all this had notescaped the ears of Juan, who had spies in the household, and was jealous andrevengeful as only a Spaniard can be. First he tried to be rid of me bychallenging me to a duel, but we were parted before we could draw swords. Thenhe hired bravos to murder me as I walked the streets at night, but I wore achain shirt beneath my doublet and their daggers broke upon it, and in place ofbeing slain I slew one of them. Twice baffled, de Garcia was not defeated.Fight and murder had failed, but another and surer means remained. I know nothow, but he had won some clue to the history of my life, and of how I hadbroken out from the monastery. It was left to him, therefore, to denounce me tothe Holy Office as a renegade and an infidel, and this he did one night; it wasthe night before the day when we should have taken ship. I was sitting withyour mother and her mother in their house at Seville, when six cowled menentered and seized me without a word. When I prayed to know their purpose theygave no other answer than to hold a crucifix before my eyes. Then I knew why Iwas taken, and the women ceased clinging to me and fell back sobbing. Secretlyand silently I was hurried away to the dungeons of the Holy Office, but of allthat befell me there I will not stop to tell.

“Twice I was racked, once I was seared with hot irons, thrice I wasflogged with wire whips, and all this while I was fed on food such as we shouldscarcely offer to a dog here in England. At length my offence of having escapedfrom a monastery and sundry blasphemies, so-called, being proved against me, Iwas condemned to death by fire.

“Then at last, when after a long year of torment and of horror, I hadabandoned hope and resigned myself to die, help came. On the eve of the dayupon which I was to be consumed by flame, the chief of my tormentors enteredthe dungeon where I lay on straw, and embracing me bade me be of good cheer,for the church had taken pity on my youth and given me my freedom. At first Ilaughed wildly, for I thought that this was but another torment, and not till Iwas freed of my fetters, clothed in decent garments, and set at midnightwithout the prison gates, would I believe that so good a thing had befallen methrough the hand of God. I stood weak and wondering outside the gates, notknowing where to fly, and as I stood a woman glided up to me wrapped in a darkcloak, who whispered ‘Come.’ That woman was your mother. She hadlearned of my fate from the boasting of de Garcia and set herself to save me.Thrice her plans failed, but at length through the help of some cunning agent,gold won what was denied to justice and to mercy, and my life and liberty werebought with a very great sum.

“That same night we were married and fled for Cadiz, your mother and I,but not her mother, who was bedridden with a sickness. For my sake your belovedmother abandoned her people, what remained to her of her fortune after payingthe price of my life, and her country, so strong is the love of woman. All hadbeen made ready, for at Cadiz lay an English ship, the ‘Mary’ ofBristol, in which passage was taken for us. But the ‘Mary’ wasdelayed in port by a contrary wind which blew so strongly that notwithstandinghis desire to save us, her master dared not take the sea. Two days and a nightwe lay in the harbour, fearing all things not without cause, and yet most happyin each other’s love. Now those who had charge of me in the dungeon hadgiven out that I had escaped by the help of my master the Devil, and I wassearched for throughout the country side. De Garcia also, finding that hiscousin and affianced wife was missing, guessed that we two were not far apart.It was his cunning, sharpened by jealousy and hate, that dogged us down step bystep till at length he found us.

“On the morning of the third day, the gale having abated, the anchor ofthe ‘Mary’ was got home and she swung out into the tideway. As shecame round and while the seamen were making ready to hoist the sails, a boatcarrying some twenty soldiers, and followed by two others, shot alongside andsummoned the captain to heave to, that his ship might be boarded and searchedunder warrant from the Holy Office. It chanced that I was on deck at the time,and suddenly, as I prepared to hide myself below, a man, in whom I knew deGarcia himself, stood up and called out that I was the escaped heretic whomthey sought. Fearing lest his ship should be boarded and he himself thrown intoprison with the rest of his crew, the captain would then have surrendered me.But I, desperate with fear, tore my clothes from my body and showed the cruelscars that marked it.

“‘You are Englishmen,’ I cried to the sailors, ‘andwill you deliver me to these foreign devils, who am of your blood? Look attheir handiwork,’ and I pointed to the half-healed scars left by thered-hot pincers; ‘if you give me up, you send me back to more of thistorment and to death by burning. Pity my wife if you will not pity me, or ifyou will pity neither, then lend me a sword that by death I may save myselffrom torture.’

“Then one of the seamen, a Southwold man who had known my father, calledout: ‘By God! I for one will stand by you, Thomas Wingfield. If they wantyou and your sweet lady they must kill me first,’ and seizing a bow fromthe rack he drew it out of its case and strung it, and setting an arrow on thestring he pointed it at the Spaniards in the boat.

“Then the others broke into shouts of:

“‘If you want any man from among us, come aboard and take him, youtorturing devils,’ and the like.

“Seeing where the heart of the crew lay, the captain found courage in histurn. He made no answer to the Spaniards, but bade half of the men hoist thesails with all speed, and the rest make ready to keep off the soldiers shouldthey seek to board us.

“By now the other two boats had come up and fastened on to us with theirhooks. One man climbed into the chains and thence to the deck, and I knew himfor a priest of the Holy Office, one of those who had stood by while I wastormented. Then I grew mad at the thought of all that I had suffered, whilethat devil watched, bidding them lay on for the love of God. Snatching the bowfrom the hand of the Southwold seaman, I drew the arrow to its head and loosed.It did not miss its mark, for like you, Thomas, I was skilled with the bow, andhe dived back into the sea with an English yard shaft in his heart.

“After that they tried to board us no more, though they shot at us witharrows, wounding one man. The captain called to us to lay down our bows andtake cover behind the bulwarks, for by now the sails began to draw. Then deGarcia stood up in the boat and cursed me and my wife.

“‘I will find you yet,’ he screamed, with many Spanish oathsand foul words. ‘If I must wait for twenty years I will be avenged uponyou and all you love. Be assured of this, Luisa de Garcia, hide where you will,I shall find you, and when we meet, you shall come with me for so long as Iwill keep you or that shall be the hour of your death.’

“Then we sailed away for England, and the boats fell astern.

“My sons, this is the story of my youth, and of how I came to wed yourmother whom I have buried to-day. Juan de Garcia has kept his word.”

“Yet it seems strange,” said my brother, “that after allthese years he should have murdered her thus, whom you say he loved. Surelyeven the evilest of men had shrunk from such a deed!”

“There is little that is strange about it,” answered my father.“How can we know what words were spoken between them before he stabbedher? Doubtless he told of some of them when he cried to Thomas that now theywould see what truth there was in prophecies. What did de Garcia swear yearssince?—that she should come with him or he would kill her. Your motherwas still beautiful, Geoffrey, and he may have given her choice between flightand death. Seek to know no more, son”—and suddenly my father hidhis face in his hands and broke into sobs that were dreadful to hear.

“Would that you had told us this tale before, father,” I said sosoon as I could speak. “Then there would have lived a devil the less inthe world to-day, and I should have been spared a long journey.”

Little did I know how long that journey would be!

CHAPTER VI
GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART

Within twelve days of the burial of my mother and the telling of the story ofhis marriage to her by my father, I was ready to start upon my search. As itchanced a vessel was about to sail from Yarmouth to Cadiz. She was named the“Adventuress,” of one hundred tons burden, and carried wool andother goods outwards, purposing to return with a cargo of wine and yew stavesfor bows. In this vessel my father bought me a passage. Moreover, he gave mefifty pounds in gold, which was as much as I would risk upon my person, andobtained letters from the Yarmouth firm of merchants to their agents in Cadiz,in which they were advised to advance me such sums as I might need up to atotal of one hundred and fifty English pounds, and further to assist me in anyway that was possible.

Now the ship “Adventuress” was to sail on the third day of June.Already it was the first of that month, and that evening I must ride toYarmouth, whither my baggage had gone already. Except one my farewells weremade, and yet that was the one I most wished to make. Since the day when we hadsworn our troth I had gained no sight of Lily except once at my mother’sburial, and then we had not spoken. Now it seemed that I must go without anyparting word, for her father had sent me notice that if I came near the Hallhis serving men had orders to thrust me from the door, and this was a shamethat I would not risk. Yet it was hard that I must go upon so long a journey,whence it well might chance I should not return, and bid her no goodbye. In mygrief and perplexity I spoke to my father, telling him how the matter stood andasking his help.

“I go hence,” I said, “to avenge our common loss, and if needbe to give my life for the honour of our name. Aid me then in this.”

“My neighbour Bozard means his daughter for your brother Geoffrey, andnot for you, Thomas,” he answered; “and a man may do what he willswith his own. Still I will help you if I can, at the least he cannot drive mefrom his door. Bid them bring horses, and we will ride to the Hall.”

Within the half of an hour we were there, and my father asked for speech withits master. The serving man looked at me askance, remembering his orders, stillhe ushered us into the justice room where the Squire sat drinking ale.

“Good morrow to you, neighbour,” said the Squire; “you arewelcome here, but you bring one with you who is not welcome, though he be yourson.”

“I bring him for the last time, friend Bozard. Listen to his request,then grant it or refuse it as you will; but if you refuse it, it will not bindus closer. The lad rides to-night to take ship for Spain to seek that man whomurdered his mother. He goes of his own free will because after the doing ofthe deed it was he who unwittingly suffered the murderer to escape, and it iswell that he should go.”

“He is a young hound to run such a quarry to earth, and in a strangecountry,” said the Squire. “Still I like his spirit and wish himwell. What would he of me?”

“Leave to bid farewell to your daughter. I know that his suit does notplease you and cannot wonder at it, and for my own part I think it too earlyfor him to set his fancy in the way of marriage. But if he would see the maidit can do no harm, for such harm as there is has been done already. Now foryour answer.”

Squire Bozard thought a while, then said:

“The lad is a brave lad though he shall be no son-in-law of mine. He isgoing far, and mayhap will return no more, and I do not wish that he shouldthink unkindly of me when I am dead. Go without, Thomas Wingfield, and standunder yonder beech—Lily shall join you there and you may speak with herfor the half of an hour—no more. See to it that you keep within sight ofthe window. Nay, no thanks; go before I change my mind.”

So I went and waited under the beech with a beating heart, and presently Lilyglided up to me, a more welcome sight to my eyes than any angel out of heaven.And, indeed, I doubt if an angel could have been more fair than she, or moregood and gentle.

“Oh! Thomas,” she whispered, when I had greeted her, “is thistrue that you sail oversea to seek the Spaniard?”

“I sail to seek the Spaniard, and to find him and to kill him when he isfound. It was to come to you, Lily, that I let him go, now I must let you go tocome to him. Nay, do not weep, I have sworn to do it, and were I to break myoath I should be dishonoured.”

“And because of this oath of yours I must be widowed, Thomas, before I ama wife? You go and I shall never see you more.”

“Who can say, my sweet? My father went over seas and came back safe,having passed through many perils.”

“Yes, he came back and—not alone. You are young, Thomas, and in farcountries there are ladies great and fair, and how shall I hold my own in yourheart against them, I being so far away?”

“I swear to you, Lily—”

“Nay, Thomas, swear no oaths lest you should add to your sins by breakingthem. Yet, love, forget me not, who shall forget you never. Perhaps—oh!it wrings my heart to say it—this is our last meeting on the earth. Ifso, then we must hope to meet in heaven. At the least be sure of this, while Ilive I will be true to you, and father or no father, I will die before I breakmy troth. I am young to speak so largely, but it shall be as I say. Oh! thisparting is more cruel than death. Would that we were asleep and forgotten amongmen. Yet it is best that you should go, for if you stayed what could we be toeach other while my father lives, and may he live long!”

“Sleep and forgetfulness will come soon enough, Lily; none must awaitthem for very long. Meanwhile we have our lives to live. Let us pray that wemay live them to each other. I go to seek fortune as well as foes, and I willwin it for your sake that we may marry.”

She shook her head sadly. “It were too much happiness, Thomas. Men andwomen may seldom wed their true loves, or if they do, it is but to lose them.At the least we love, and let us be thankful that we have learned what love canbe, for having loved here, perchance at the worst we may love otherwhere whenthere are none to say us nay.”

Then we talked on awhile, babbling broken words of love and hope and sorrow, asyoung folks so placed are wont to do, till at length Lily looked up with a sadsweet smile and said:

“It is time to go, sweetheart. My father beckons me from the lattice. Allis finished.”

“Let us go then,” I answered huskily, and drew her behind the trunkof the old beech. And there I caught her in my arms and kissed her again andyet again, nor was she ashamed to kiss me back.

After this I remember little of what happened, except that as we rode away Isaw her beloved face, wan and wistful, watching me departing out of her life.For twenty years that sad and beautiful face haunted me, and it haunts me yetathwart life and death. Other women have loved me and I have known otherpartings, some of them more terrible, but the memory of this woman as she wasthen, and of her farewell look, overruns them all. Whenever I gaze down thepast I see this picture framed in it and I know that it is one which cannotfade. Are there any sorrows like these sorrows of our youth? Can any bitternessequal the bitterness of such good-byes? I know but one of which I was fated totaste in after years, and that shall be told of in its place. It is a commonjest to mock at early love, but if it be real, if it be something more than themere arising of the passions, early love is late love also; it is love forever, the best and worst event which can befall a man or woman. I say it who amold and who have done with everything, and it is true.

One thing I have forgotten. As we kissed and clung in our despair behind thebole of the great beech, Lily drew a ring from her finger and pressed it intomy hand saying, “Look on this each morning when you wake, and think ofme.” It had been her mother’s, and to-day it still is set upon mywithered hand, gleaming in the winter sunlight as I trace these words. Throughthe long years of wild adventure, through all the time of after peace, in loveand war, in the shine of the camp fire, in the glare of the sacrificial flame,in the light of lonely stars illumining the lonely wilderness, that ring hasshone upon my hand, reminding me always of her who gave it, and on this hand itshall go down into the grave. It is a plain circlet of thick gold, somewhatworn now, a posy-ring, and on its inner surface is cut this quaint couplet:

Heart to heart,
Though far apart.

A fitting motto for us indeed, and one that has its meaning to this hour.

That same day of our farewell I rode with my father to Yarmouth. My brotherGeoffrey did not come with us, but we parted with kindly words, and of this Iam glad, for we never saw each other again. No more was said between us as toLily Bozard and our wooing of her, though I knew well enough that so soon as myback was turned he would try to take my place at her side, as indeed happened.I forgive it to him; in truth I cannot blame him much, for what man is therethat would not have desired to wed Lily who knew her? Once we were dearfriends, Geoffrey and I, but when we ripened towards manhood, our love of Lilycame between us, and we grew more and more apart. It is a common case enough.Well, as it chanced he failed, so why should I think unkindly of him? Let merather remember the affection of our childhood and forget the rest. God resthis soul.

Mary, my sister, who after Lily Bozard was now the fairest maiden in thecountry side, wept much at my going. There was but a year between us, and weloved each other dearly, for no such shadow of jealousy had fallen on ouraffection. I comforted her as well as I was able, and telling her all that hadpassed between me and Lily, I prayed her to stand my friend and Lily’s,should it ever be in her power to do so. This Mary promised to do readilyenough, and though she did not give the reason, I could see that she thought itpossible that she might be able to help us. As I have said, Lily had a brother,a young man of some promise, who at this time was away at college, and he andmy sister Mary had a strong fancy for each other, that might or might not ripeninto something closer. So we kissed and bade farewell with tears.

And after that my father and I rode away. But when we had passed down PirnhowStreet, and mounted the little hill beyond Waingford Mills to the left ofBungay town, I halted my horse, and looked back upon the pleasant valley of theWaveney where I was born, and my heart grew full to bursting. Had I known allthat must befall me, before my eyes beheld that scene again, I think indeedthat it would have burst. But God, who in his wisdom has laid many a burdenupon the backs of men, has saved them from this; for had we foreknowledge ofthe future, I think that of our own will but few of us would live to see it. SoI cast one long last look towards the distant mass of oaks that marked the spotwhere Lily lived, and rode on.

On the following day I embarked on board the “Adventuress” and wesailed. Before I left, my father’s heart softened much towards me, for heremembered that I was my mother’s best beloved, and feared also lest weshould meet no more. So much did it soften indeed, that at the last hour hechanged his mind and wished to hold me back from going. But having put my handto the plough and suffered all the bitterness of farewell, I would not returnto be mocked by my brother and my neighbours. “You speak too late,father,” I said. “You desired me to go to work this vengeance andstirred me to it with many bitter words, and now I would go if I knew that Imust die within a week, for such oaths cannot be lightly broken, and till mineis fulfilled the curse rests on me.”

“So be it, son,” he answered with a sigh. “Yourmother’s cruel death maddened me and I said what I may live to be sorryfor, though at the best I shall not live long, for my heart is broken. PerhapsI should have remembered that vengeance is in the hand of the Lord, who wreaksit at His own time and without our help. Do not think unkindly of me, my boy,if we should chance to meet no more, for I love you, and it was but the deeperlove that I bore to your mother which made me deal harshly with you.”

“I know it, father, and bear no grudge. But if you think that you owe meanything, pay it by holding back my brother from working wrong to me and LilyBozard while I am absent.”

“I will do my best, son, though were it not that you and she have grownso dear to each other, the match would have pleased me well. But as I havesaid, I shall not be long here to watch your welfare in this or any othermatter, and when I am gone things must follow their own fate. Do not forgetyour God or your home wherever you chance to wander, Thomas: keep yourself frombrawling, beware of women that are the snare of youth, and set a watch uponyour tongue and your temper which is not of the best. Moreover, wherever youmay be do not speak ill of the religion of the land, or make a mock of it byyour way of life, lest you should learn how cruel men can be when they thinkthat it is pleasing to their gods, as I have learnt already.”

I said that I would bear his counsel in mind, and indeed it saved me from manya sorrow. Then he embraced me and called on the Almighty to take me in Hiscare, and we parted.

I never saw him more, for though he was but middle-aged, within a year of mygoing my father died suddenly of a distemper of the heart in the nave ofDitchingham church, as he stood there, near the rood screen, musing by mymother’s grave one Sunday after mass, and my brother took his lands andplace. God rest him also! He was a true-hearted man, but more wrapped up in hislove for my mother than it is well for any man to be who would look at lifelargely and do right by all. For such love, though natural to women, is apt toturn to something that partakes of selfishness, and to cause him who bears itto think all else of small account. His children were nothing to my father whencompared to my mother, and he would have been content to lose them every one ifthereby he might have purchased back her life. But after all it was a nobleinfirmity, for he thought little of himself and had gone through much to winher.

Of my voyage to Cadiz, to which port I had learned that de Garcia’s shipwas bound, there is little to be told. We met with contrary winds in the Bay ofBiscay and were driven into the harbour of Lisbon, where we refitted. But atlast we came safely to Cadiz, having been forty days at sea.

CHAPTER VII
ANDRES DE FONSECA

Now I shall dwell but briefly on all the adventures which befell me during theyear or so that I remained in Spain, for were I to set out everything atlength, this history would have no end, or at least mine would find me before Icame to it.

Many travellers have told of the glories of Seville, to which ancient Moorishcity I journeyed with all speed, sailing there up the Guadalquivir, and I haveto tell of lands from which no other wanderer has returned to England, and mustpress on to them. To be short then; foreseeing that it might be necessary forme to stop some time in Seville, and being desirous to escape notice and to beat the smallest expense possible, I bethought me that it would be well if Icould find means of continuing my studies of medicine, and to this end Iobtained certain introductions from the firm of merchants to whose care I hadbeen recommended, addressed to doctors of medicine in Seville. These letters atmy request were made out not in my own name but in that of “Diegod’Aila,” for I did not wish it to be known that I was anEnglishman. Nor, indeed, was this likely, except my speech should betray me,for, as I have said, in appearance I was very Spanish, and the hindrance of thelanguage was one that lessened every day, since having already learned it frommy mother, and taking every opportunity to read and speak it, within six monthsI could talk Castilian except for some slight accent, like a native of theland. Also I have a gift for the acquiring of languages.

When I was come to Seville, and had placed my baggage in an inn, not one of themost frequented, I set out to deliver a letter of recommendation to a famousphysician of the town whose name I have long forgotten. This physician had afine house in the street of Las Palmas, a great avenue planted with gracefultrees, that has other little streets running into it. Down one of these I camefrom my inn, a quiet narrow place having houses with patiosorcourtyards on either side of it. As I walked down this street I noticed a mansitting in the shade on a stool in the doorway of his patio. He wassmall and withered, with keen black eyes and a wonderful air of wisdom, and hewatched me as I went by. Now the house of the famous physician whom I soughtwas so placed that the man sitting at this doorway could command it with hiseyes and take note of all who went in and came out. When I had found the houseI returned again into the quiet street and walked to and fro there for a while,thinking of what tale I should tell to the physician, and all the time thelittle man watched me with his keen eyes. At last I had made up my story andwent to the house, only to find that the physician was from home. Havinginquired when I might find him I left, and once more took to the narrow street,walking slowly till I came to where the little man sat. As I passed him, hisbroad hat with which he was fanning himself slipped to the ground before myfeet. I stooped down, lifted it from the pavement, and restored it to him.

“A thousand thanks, young sir,” he said in a full and gentle voice.“You are courteous for a foreigner.”

“How do you know me to be a foreigner, señor?” I asked, surprisedout of my caution.

“If I had not guessed it before, I should know it now,” heanswered, smiling gravely. “Your Castilian tells its own tale.”

I bowed, and was about to pass on, when he addressed me again.

“What is your hurry, young sir? Step in and take a cup of wine with me;it is good.”

I was about to say him nay, when it came into my mind that I had nothing to do,and that perhaps I might learn something from this gossip.

“The day is hot, señor, and I accept.”

He spoke no more, but rising, led me into a courtyard paved with marble in thecentre of which was a basin of water, having vines trained around it. Here werechairs and a little table placed in the shade of the vines. When he had closedthe door of the patioand we were seated, he rang a silver bell thatstood upon the table, and a girl, young and fair, appeared from the house,dressed in a quaint Spanish dress.

“Bring wine,” said my host.

The wine was brought, white wine of Oporto such as I had never tasted before.

“Your health, señor?” And my host stopped, his glass in his hand,and looked at me inquiringly.

“Diego d’Aila,” I answered.

“Humph,” he said. “A Spanish name, or perhaps an imitationSpanish name, for I do not know it, and I have a good head for names.”

“That is my name, to take or to leave, señor?”—And I lookedat him in turn.

“Andres de Fonseca,” he replied bowing, “a physician of thiscity, well known enough, especially among the fair. Well, Señor Diego, I takeyour name, for names are nothing, and at times it is convenient to change them,which is nobody’s business except their owners”. I see that you area stranger in this city—no need to look surprised, señor, one who isfamiliar with a town does not gaze and stare and ask the path of passers-by,nor does a native of Seville walk on the sunny side of the street in summer.And now, if you will not think me impertinent, I will ask you what can be thebusiness of so healthy a young man with my rival yonder?” And he noddedtowards the house of the famous physician.

“A man’s business, like his name, is his own affair, señor,”I answered, setting my host down in my mind as one of those who disgrace ourart by plying openly for patients that they may capture their fees.“Still, I will tell you. I am also a physician, though not yet fullyqualified, and I seek a place where I may help some doctor of repute in hisdaily practice, and thus gain experience and my living with it.”

“Ah is it so? Well, señor, then you will look in vain yonder,” andagain he nodded towards the physician’s house. “Such as he willtake no apprentice without the fee be large indeed; it is not the custom ofthis city.”

“Then I must seek a livelihood elsewhere, or otherwise.”

“I did not say so. Now, señor, let us see what you know of medicine, andwhat is more important, of human nature, for of the first none of us can everknow much, but he who knows the latter will be a leader of men—or ofwomen—who lead the men.”

And without more ado he put me many questions, each of them so shrewd and goingso directly to the heart of the matter in hand, that I marvelled at hissagacity. Some of these questions were medical, dealing chiefly with theailments of women, others were general and dealt more with their characters. Atlength he finished.

“You will do, señor,” he said; “you are a young man of partsand promise, though, as was to be expected from one of your years, you lackexperience. There is stuff in you, señor, and you have a heart, which is a goodthing, for the blunders of a man with a heart often carry him further than thecunning of the cynic; also you have a will and know how to direct it.”

I bowed, and did my best to hold back my satisfaction at his words from showingin my face.

“Still,” he went on, “all this would not cause me to submitto you the offer that I am about to make, for many a prettier fellow thanyourself is after all unlucky, or a fool at the bottom, or bad tempered anddestined to the dogs, as for aught I know you may be also. But I take my chanceof that because you suit me in another way. Perhaps you may scarcely know ityourself, but you have beauty, señor, beauty of a very rare and singular type,which half the ladies of Seville will praise when they come to know you.”

“I am much flattered,” I said, “but might I ask what allthese compliments may mean? To be brief, what is your offer?”

“To be brief then, it is this. I am in need of an assistant who mustpossess all the qualities that I see in you, but most of all one which I canonly guess you to possess—discretion. That assistant would not beill-paid; this house would be at his disposal, and he would have opportunitiesof learning the world such as are given to few. What say you?”

“I say this, señor, that I should wish to know more of the business inwhich I am expected to assist. Your offers sound too liberal, and I fear that Imust earn your bounty by the doing of work that honest men might shrinkfrom.”

“A fair argument, but, as it happens, not quite a correct one. Listen:you have been told that yonder physician, to whose house you went but now, andthese”—here he repeated four or five names—“are thegreatest of their tribe in Seville. It is not so. I am the greatest and therichest, and I do more business than any two of them. Do you know what myearnings have been this day alone? I will tell you; just over twenty-five goldpesos,^[2]more thanall the rest of the profession have taken together, I will wager. You want toknow how I earn so much; you want to know also, why, if I have earned so much,I am not content to rest from my labours. Good, I will tell you. I earn it byministering to the vanities of women and sheltering them from the results oftheir own folly. Has a lady a sore heart, she comes to me for comfort andadvice. Has she pimples on her face, she flies to me to cure them. Has she asecret love affair, it is I who hide her indiscretion; I consult the future forher, I help her to atone the past, I doctor her for imaginary ailments, andoften enough I cure her of real ones. Half the secrets of Seville are in myhands; did I choose to speak I could set a score of noble houses to broil andbloodshed. But I do not speak, I am paid to keep silent; and when I am notpaid, still I keep silent for my credit’s sake. Hundreds of women thinkme their saviour, I know them for my dupes. But mark you, I do not push thisgame too far. A love philtre—of coloured water—I may give at aprice, but not a poisoned rose. These they must seek elsewhere. For the rest,in my way I am honest. I take the world as it comes, that is all, and, as womenwill be fools, I profit by their folly and have grown rich upon it.

[2]About sixty-three pounds sterling.

“Yes, I have grown rich, and yet I cannot stop. I love the money that ispower; but more than all, I love the way of life. Talk of romances andadventure! What romance or adventure is half so wonderful as those that comedaily to my notice? And I play a part in every one of them, and none the less aleading part because I do not shout and strut upon the boards.”

“If all this is so, why do you seek the help of an unknown lad, astranger of whom you know nothing?” I asked bluntly.

“Truly, you lack experience,” the old man answered with a laugh.“Do you then suppose that I should choose one who was notastranger—one who might have ties within this city with which I wasunacquainted. And as for knowing nothing of you, young man, do you think that Ihave followed this strange trade of mine for forty years without learning tojudge at sight? Perhaps I know you better than you know yourself. By the way,the fact that you are deeply enamoured of that maid whom you have left inEngland is a recommendation to me, for whatever follies you may commit, youwill scarcely embarrass me and yourself by suffering your affections to beseriously entangled. Ah! have I astonished you?”

“How do you know?” I began—then ceased.

“How do I know? Why, easily enough. Those boots you wear were made inEngland. I have seen many such when I travelled there; your accent also thoughfaint is English, and twice you have spoken English words when your Castilianfailed you. Then for the maid, is not that a betrothal ring upon your hand? Andwhen I spoke to you of the ladies of this country, my talk did not interest youovermuch as at your age it had done were you heart-whole. Surely also the ladyis fair and tall? Ah! I thought so. I have noticed that men and women lovetheir opposite in colour, no invariable rule indeed, but good for aguess.”

“You are very clever, señor.”

“No, not clever, but trained, as you will be when you have been a year inmy hands, though perchance you do not intend to stop so long in Seville.Perhaps you came here with an object, and wish to pass the time profitably tillit is fulfilled. A good guess again, I think. Well, so be it, I will risk that;object and attainment are often far apart. Do you take my offer?”

“I incline to do so.”

“Then you will take it. Now I have something more to say before we cometo terms. I do not want you to play the part of an apothecary’s drudge.You will figure before the world as my nephew, come from abroad to learn mytrade. You will help me in it indeed, but that is not all your duty. Your partwill be to mix in the life of Seville, and to watch those whom I bid you watch,to drop a word here and a hint there, and in a hundred ways that I shall showyou to draw grist to my mill—and to your own. You must be brilliant andwitty, or sad and learned, as I wish; you must make the most of your person andyour talents, for these go far with my customers. To the hidalgo you must talkof arms, to the lady, of love; but you must never commit yourself beyondredemption. And above all, young man”—and here his manner changedand his face grew stern and almost fierce—“you must never violatemy confidence or the confidence of my clients. On this point I will be quiteopen with you, and I pray you for your own sake to believe what I say, howevermuch you may mistrust the rest. If you break faith with me, you die. Youdie, not by my hand, but you die. That is my price; take it or leave it. Shouldyou leave it and go hence to tell what you have heard this day, even thenmisfortune may overtake you suddenly. Do you understand?”

“I understand. For my own sake I will respect your confidence.”

“Young sir, I like you better than ever. Had you said that you wouldrespect it because it was a confidence, I should have mistrusted you, fordoubtless you feel that secrets communicated so readily have no claim to beheld sacred. Nor have they, but when their violation involves the sad andaccidental end of the violator, it is another matter. Well now, do youaccept?”

“I accept.”

“Good. Your baggage I suppose is at the inn. I will send porters todischarge your score and bring it here. No need for you to go, nephew, let usstop and drink another glass of wine; the sooner we grow intimate the better,nephew.”

It was thus that first I became acquainted with Señor Andres de Fonseca, mybenefactor, the strangest man whom I have ever known. Doubtless any personreading this history would think that I, the narrator, was sowing a plentifulcrop of troubles for myself in having to deal with him, setting him down as arogue of the deepest, such as sometimes, for their own wicked purposes, decoyyoung men to crime and ruin. But it was not so, and this is the strangest partof the strange story. All that Andres de Fonseca told me was true to the veryletter.

He was a gentleman of great talent who had been rendered a little mad bymisfortunes in his early life. As a physician I have never met his master, ifindeed he has one in these times, and as a man versed in the world and moreespecially in the world of women, I have known none to compare with him. He hadtravelled far, and seen much, and he forgot nothing. In part he was a quack,but his quackery always had a meaning in it. He fleeced the foolish, indeed,and even juggled with astronomy, making money out of their superstition; but onthe other hand he did many a kind act without reward. He would make a rich ladypay ten gold pesos for the dyeing of her hair, but often he would nurse somepoor girl through her trouble and ask no charge; yes, and find her honestemployment after it. He who knew all the secrets of Seville never made moneyout of them by threat of exposure, as he said because it would not pay to doso, but really because though he affected to be a selfish knave, at bottom hisheart was honest.

For my own part I found life with him both easy and happy, so far as mine couldbe quite happy. Soon I learned my role and played it well. It was given outthat I was the nephew of the rich old physician Fonseca, whom he was trainingto take his place; and this, together with my own appearance and manners,ensured me a welcome in the best houses of Seville. Here I took that share ofour business which my master could not take, for now he never mixed among thefashion of the city. Money I was supplied with in abundance so that I couldruffle it with the best, but soon it became known that I looked to business aswell as to pleasure. Often and often during some gay ball or carnival, a ladywould glide up to me and ask beneath her breath if Don Andres de Fonseca wouldconsent to see her privately on a matter of some importance, and I would fix anhour then and there. Had it not been for me such patients would have been lostto us, since, for the most part, their timidity had kept them away.

In the same fashion when the festival was ended and I prepared to wendhomewards, now and again a gallant would slip his arm in mine and ask mymaster’s help in some affair of love or honour, or even of the purse.Then I would lead him straight to the old Moorish house where Don Andres satwriting in his velvet robe like some spider in his web, for the most of ourbusiness was done at night; and straight-way the matter would be attended to,to my master’s profit and the satisfaction of all. By degrees it becameknown that though I was so young yet I had discretion, and that nothing whichwent in at my ears came out of my lips; that I neither brawled nor drank norgambled to any length, and that though I was friendly with many fair ladies,there were none who were entitled to know my secrets. Also it became known thatI had some skill in my art of healing, and it was said among the ladies ofSeville that there lived no man in that city so deft at clearing the skin ofblemishes or changing the colour of the hair as old Fonseca’s nephew, andas any one may know this reputation alone was worth a fortune. Thus it cameabout that I was more and more consulted on my own account. In short, thingswent so well with us that in the first six months of my service I added by onethird to the receipts of my master’s practice, large as they had beenbefore, besides lightening his labours not a little.

It was a strange life, and of the things that I saw and learned, could they bewritten, I might make a tale indeed, but they have no part in this history. Forit was as though the smiles and silence with which men and women hide theirthoughts were done away, and their hearts spoke to us in the accents of truth.Now some fair young maid or wife would come to us with confessions ofwickedness that would be thought impossible, did not her story prove itself;the secret murder perchance of a spouse, or a lover, or a rival; now some ageddame who would win a husband in his teens, now some wealthy low-born man orwoman, who desired to buy an alliance with one lacking money, but of nobleblood. Such I did not care to help indeed, but to the love-sick or thelove-deluded I listened with a ready ear, for I had a fellow-feeling with them.Indeed so deep and earnest was my sympathy that more than once I found theunhappy fair ready to transfer their affections to my unworthy self, and infact once things came about so that, had I willed it, I could have married oneof the loveliest and wealthiest noble ladies of Seville.

But I would none of it, who thought of my English Lily by day and night.

CHAPTER VIII
THE SECOND MEETING

It may be thought that while I was employed thus I had forgotten the object ofmy coming to Spain, namely to avenge my mother’s murder on the person ofJuan de Garcia. But this was not so. So soon as I was settled in the house ofAndres de Fonseca I set myself to make inquiries as to de Garcia’swhereabouts with all possible diligence, but without result.

Indeed, when I came to consider the matter coolly it seemed that I had but aslender chance of finding him in this city. He had, indeed, given it out inYarmouth that he was bound for Seville, but no ship bearing the same name ashis had put in at Cadiz or sailed up the Guadalquivir, nor was it likely,having committed murder in England, that he would speak the truth as to hisdestination. Still I searched on. The house where my mother and grandmother hadlived was burned down, and as their mode of life had been retired, after morethan twenty years of change few even remembered their existence. Indeed I onlydiscovered one, an old woman whom I found living in extreme poverty, and whoonce had been my grandmother’s servant and knew my mother well, althoughshe was not in the house at the time of her flight to England. From this womanI gathered some information, though, needless to say, I did not tell her that Iwas the grandson of her old mistress.

It seemed that after my mother fled to England with my father, de Garciapersecuted my grandmother and his aunt with lawsuits and by other means, tillat last she was reduced to beggary, in which condition the villain left her todie. So poor was she indeed, that she was buried in a public grave. After thatthe old woman, my informant, said she had heard that de Garcia had committedsome crime and been forced to flee the country. What the crime was she couldnot remember, but it had happened about fifteen years ago.

All this I learned when I had been about three months in Seville, and though itwas of interest it did not advance me in my search.

Some four or five nights afterwards, as I entered my employer’s house Imet a young woman coming out of the doorway of the patio;she wasthickly veiled and my notice was drawn to her by her tall and beautiful figureand because she was weeping so violently that her body shook with her sobs. Iwas already well accustomed to such sights, for many of those who sought mymaster’s counsel had good cause to weep, and I passed her without remark.But when I was come into the room where he received his patients, I mentionedthat I had met such a person and asked if it was any one whom I knew.

“Ah! nephew,” said Fonseca, who always called me thus by now, andindeed began to treat me with as much affection as though I were really of hisblood, “a sad case, but you do not know her and she is no paying patient.A poor girl of noble birth who had entered religion and taken her vows, when agallant appears, meets her secretly in the convent garden, promises to marryher if she will fly with him, indeed does go through some mummery of marriagewith her—so she says—and the rest of it. Now he has deserted herand she is in trouble, and what is more, should the priests catch her, likelyto learn what it feels like to die by inches in a convent wall. She came to mefor counsel and brought some silver ornaments as the fee. Here they are.”

“You took them!”

“Yes, I took them—I always take a fee, but I gave her back theirweight in gold. What is more, I told her where she might hide from the prieststill the hunt is done with. What I did not like to tell her is that her loveris the greatest villain who ever trod the streets of Seville. What was thegood? She will see little more of him. Hist! here comes the duchess—anastrological case this. Where are the horoscope and the wand, yes, and thecrystal ball? There, shade the lamps, give me the book, and vanish.”

I obeyed, and presently met the great lady, a stout woman attended by a duenna,gliding fearfully through the darkened archways to learn the answer of thestars and pay many good pesos for it, and the sight of her made me laugh somuch that I forgot quickly about the other lady and her woes.

And now I must tell how I met my cousin and my enemy de Garcia for the secondtime. Two days after my meeting with the veiled lady it chanced that I waswandering towards midnight through a lonely part of the old city littlefrequented by passers-by. It was scarcely safe to be thus alone in such a placeand hour, but the business with which I had been charged by my master was onethat must be carried out unattended. Also I had no enemies whom I knew of, andwas armed with the very sword that I had taken from de Garcia in the lane atDitchingham, the sword that had slain my mother, and which I bore in the hopethat it might serve to avenge her. In the use of this weapon I had grown expertenough by now, for every morning I took lessons in the art of fence.

My business being done I was walking slowly homeward, and as I went I fell tothinking of the strangeness of my present life and of how far it differed frommy boyhood in the valley of the Waveney, and of many other things. And then Ithought of Lily and wondered how her days passed, and if my brother Geoffreypersecuted her to marry him, and whether or no she would resist hisimportunities and her father’s. And so as I walked musing I came to awater-gate that opened on to the Guadalquivir, and leaning upon the coping of alow wall I rested there idly to consider the beauty of the night. In truth itwas a lovely night, for across all these years I remember it. Let those whohave seen it say if they know any prospect more beautiful than the sight of theAugust moon shining on the broad waters of the Guadalquivir and the clusteringhabitations of the ancient city.

Now as I leaned upon the wall and looked, I saw a man pass up the steps besideme and go on into the shadow of the street. I took no note of him tillpresently I heard a murmur of distant voices, and turning my head I discoveredthat the man was in conversation with a woman whom he had met at the head ofthe path that ran down to the water-gate. Doubtless it was a lovers’meeting, and since such sights are of interest to all, and more especially tothe young, I watched the pair. Soon I learned that there was little oftenderness in this tryst, at least on the part of the gallant, who drewcontinually backwards toward me as though he would seek the boat by whichdoubtless he had come, and I marvelled at this, for the moonlight shone uponthe woman’s face, and even at that distance I could see that it was veryfair. The man’s face I could not see however, since his back was towardsme for the most part, moreover he wore a large sombrerothat shaded it.Now they came nearer to me, the man always drawing backward and the womanalways following, till at length they were within earshot. The woman waspleading with the man.

“Surely you will not desert me,” she said, “after marrying meand all that you have sworn; you will not have the heart to desert me. Iabandoned everything for you. I am in great danger. I—” and hereher voice fell so that I could not catch her words.

Then he spoke. “Fairest, now as always I adore you. But we must partawhile. You owe me much, Isabella. I have rescued you from the grave, I havetaught you what it is to live and love. Doubtless with your advantages andcharms, your great charms, you will profit by the lesson. Money I cannot giveyou, for I have none to spare, but I have endowed you with experience that ismore valuable by far. This is our farewell for awhile and I am brokenhearted.Yet

‘’Neath fairer skies
Shine other eyes,’

and I—” and again he spoke so low that I could not catch his words.

As he talked on, all my body began to tremble. The scene was moving indeed, butit was not that which stirred me so deeply, it was the man’s voice andbearing that reminded me—no, it could scarcely be!

“Oh! you will not be so cruel,” said the lady, “to leave me,your wife, thus alone and in such sore trouble and danger. Take me with you,Juan, I beseech you!” and she caught him by the arm and clung to him.

He shook her from him somewhat roughly, and as he did so his wide hat fell tothe ground so that the moonlight shone upon his face. By Heaven! it washe—Juan de Garcia and no other! I could not be mistaken. There was thedeeply carved, cruel face, the high forehead with the scar on it, the thinsneering mouth, the peaked beard and curling hair. Chance had given him into myhand, and I would kill him or he should kill me.

I took three paces and stood before him, drawing my sword as I came.

“What, my dove, have you a bully at hand?” he said stepping backastonished. “Your business, señor? Are you here to champion beauty indistress?”

“I am here, Juan de Garcia, to avenge a murdered woman. Do you remember acertain river bank away in England, where you chanced to meet a lady you hadknown, and to leave her dead? Or if you have forgotten, perhaps at least youwill remember this, which I carry that it may kill you,” and I flashedthe sword that had been his before his eyes.

“Mother of God! It is the English boy who—” and he stopped.

“It is Thomas Wingfield who beat and bound you, and who now purposes tofinish what he began yonder as he has sworn. Draw, or, Juan de Garcia, I willstab you where you stand.”

De Garcia heard this speech, that to-day seems to me to smack of the theatre,though it was spoken in grimmest earnest, and his face grew like the face of atrapped wolf. Yet I saw that he had no mind to fight, not because of cowardice,for to do him justice he was no coward, but because of superstition. He fearedto fight with me since, as I learned afterwards, he believed that he would meethis end at my hand, and it was for this reason chiefly that he strove to killme when first we met.

“The duello has its laws, señor,” he said courteously. “It isnot usual to fight thus unseconded and in the presence of a woman. If youbelieve that you have any grievance against me—though I know not of whatyou rave, or the name by which you call me—I will meet you where and whenyou will.” And all the while he looked over his shoulder seeking some wayof escape.

“You will meet me now,” I answered. “Draw or I strike!”

Then he drew, and we fell to it desperately enough, till the sparks flew,indeed, and the rattle of steel upon steel rang down the quiet street. At firsthe had somewhat the better of me, for my hate made me wild in my play, but soonI settled to the work and grew cooler. I meant to kill him—more, I knewthat I should kill him if none came between us. He was still a better swordsmanthan I, who, till I fought with him in the lane at Ditchingham, had never evenseen one of these Spanish rapiers, but I had the youth and the right on myside, as also I had an eye like a hawk’s and a wrist of steel.

Slowly I pressed him back, and ever my play grew closer and better and hisbecame wilder. Now I had touched him twice, once in the face, and I held himwith his back against the wall of the way that led down to the water-gate, andit had come to this, that he scarcely strove to thrust at me at all, but stoodon his defence waiting till I should tire. Then, when victory was in my handdisaster overtook me, for the woman, who had been watching bewildered, saw thather faithless lover was in danger of death and straightway seized me frombehind, at the same time sending up shriek after shriek for help. I shook herfrom me quickly enough, but not before de Garcia, seeing his advantage, haddealt me a coward’s thrust that took me in the right shoulder and halfcrippled me, so that in my turn I must stand on my defence if I would keep mylife in me. Meanwhile the shrieks had been heard, and of a sudden the watchcame running round the corner whistling for help. De Garcia saw them, anddisengaging suddenly, turned and ran for the water-gate, the lady alsovanishing, whither I do not know.

Now the watch was on me, and their leader came at me to seize me, holding alantern in his hand. I struck it with the handle of the sword, so that it fellupon the roadway, where it blazed up like a bonfire. Then I turned also andfled, for I did not wish to be dragged before the magistrates of the city as abrawler, and in my desire to escape I forgot that de Garcia was escaping also.Away I went and three of the watch after me, but they were stout and scant ofbreath, and by the time that I had run three furlongs I distanced them. Ihalted to get my breath and remembered that I had lost de Garcia and did notknow when I should find him again. At first I was minded to return and seekhim, but reflection told me that by now it would be useless, also that the endof it might be that I should fall into the hands of the watch, who would knowme by my wound, which began to pain me. So I went homeward cursing my fortune,and the woman who had clasped me from behind just as I was about to send thedeath-thrust home, and also my lack of skill which had delayed that thrust solong. Twice I might have made it and twice I had waited, being overcautious andover-anxious to be sure, and now I had lost my chance, and might bide many aday before it came again.

How should I find him in this great city? Doubtless, though I had not thoughtof it, de Garcia passed under some feigned name as he had done at Yarmouth. Itwas bitter indeed to have been so near to vengeance and to have missed it.

By now I was at home and bethought me that I should do well to go to Fonseca,my master, and ask his help. Hitherto I had said nothing of this matter to him,for I have always loved to keep my own counsel, and as yet I had not spoken ofmy past even to him. Going to the room where he was accustomed to receivepatients, I found he had retired to rest, leaving orders that I was not toawake him this night as he was weary. So I bound up my hurt after a fashion andsought my bed also, very ill-satisfied with my fortune.

On the morrow I went to my master’s chamber where he still lay abed,having been seized by a sudden weakness that was the beginning of the illnesswhich ended in his death. As I mixed a draught for him he noticed that myshoulder was hurt and asked me what had happened. This gave me my opportunity,which I was not slow to take.

“Have you patience to listen to a story?” I said, “for Iwould seek your help.”

“Ah!” he answered, “it is the old case, the physician cannotheal himself. Speak on, nephew.”

Then I sat down by the bed and told him all, keeping nothing back. I told himthe history of my mother and my father’s courtship, of my own childhood,of the murder of my mother by de Garcia, and of the oath that I had sworn to beavenged upon him. Lastly I told him of what had happened upon the previousnight and how my enemy had evaded me. All the while that I was speakingFonseca, wrapped in a rich Moorish robe, sat up in the bed holding his kneesbeneath his chin, and watching my face with his keen eyes. But he spoke no wordand made no sign till I had finished the tale.

“You are strangely foolish, nephew,” he said at length. “Forthe most part youth fails through rashness, but you err by over-caution. Byover-caution in your fence you lost your chance last night, and so byover-caution in hiding this tale from me you have lost a far greateropportunity. What, have you not seen me give counsel in many such matters, andhave you ever known me to betray the confidence even of the veriest stranger?Why then did you fear for yours?”

“I do not know,” I answered, “but I thought that first Iwould search for myself.”

“Pride goeth before a fall, nephew. Now listen: had I known this historya month ago, by now de Garcia had perished miserably, and not by your hand, butby that of the law. I have been acquainted with the man from his childhood, andknow enough to hang him twice over did I choose to speak. More, I knew yourmother, boy, and now I see that it was the likeness in your face to hers thathaunted me, for from the first it was familiar. It was I also who bribed thekeepers of the Holy Office to let your father loose, though, as it chanced, Inever saw him, and arranged his flight. Since then, I have had de Garciathrough my hands some four or five times, now under this name and now underthat. Once even he came to me as a client, but the villainy that he would haveworked was too black for me to touch. This man is the wickedest whom I haveknown in Seville, and that is saying much, also he is the cleverest and themost revengeful. He lives by vice for vice, and there are many deaths upon hishands. But he has never prospered in his evil-doing, and to-day he is but anadventurer without a name, who lives by blackmail, and by ruining women that hemay rob them at his leisure. Give me those books from the strong box yonder,and I will tell you of this de Garcia.”

I did as he bade me, bringing the heavy parchment volumes, each bound in vellumand written in cipher.

“These are my records,” he said, “though none can read themexcept myself. Now for the index. Ah! here it is. Give me volume three, andopen it at page two hundred and one.”

I obeyed, laying the book on the bed before him, and he began to read thecrabbed marks as easily as though they were good black-letter.

“De Garcia—Juan. Height, appearance, family, false names, and soon. This is it—history. Now listen.”

Then came some two pages of closely written matter, expressed in secret signsthat Fonseca translated as he read. It was brief enough, but such a record asit contained I have never heard before nor since. Here, set out against thisone man’s name, was well nigh every wickedness of which a human beingcould be capable, carried through by him to gratify his appetites andrevengeful hate, and to provide himself with gold.

In that black list were two murders: one of a rival by the knife, and one of amistress by poison. And there were other things even worse, too shameful,indeed, to be written.

“Doubtless there is more that has not come beneath my notice,” saidFonseca coolly, “but these things I know for truth, and one of themurders could be proved against him were he captured. Stay, give me ink, I mustadd to the record.”

And he wrote in his cipher: “In May, 1517, the said de Garcia sailed toEngland on a trading voyage, and there, in the parish of Ditchingham, in thecounty of Norfolk, he murdered Luisa Wingfield, spoken of above as Luisa deGarcia, his cousin, to whom he was once betrothed. In September of the sameyear, or previously, under cover of a false marriage, he decoyed and desertedone Donna Isabella of the noble family of Siguenza, a nun in a religious housein this city.”

“What!” I exclaimed, “is the girl who came to seek your helptwo nights since the same that de Garcia deserted?”

“The very same, nephew. It was she whom you heard pleading with him lastnight. Had I known two days ago what I know to-day, by now this villain hadbeen safe in prison. But perhaps it is not yet too late. I am ill, but I willrise and see to it. Leave it to me, nephew. Go, nurse yourself, and leave it tome; if anything may be done I can do it. Stay, bid a messenger be ready. Thisevening I shall know whatever there is to be known.”

That night Fonseca sent for me again.

“I have made inquiries,” he said. “I have even warned theofficers of justice for the first time for many years, and they are hunting deGarcia as bloodhounds hunt a slave. But nothing can be heard of him. He hasvanished and left no trace. To-night I write to Cadiz, for he may have fledthere down the river. One thing I have discovered, however. The Señora Isabellawas caught by the watch, and being recognised as having escaped from a convent,she was handed over to the executories of the Holy Office, that her case may beinvestigated, or in other words, should her fault be proved, to death.”

“Can she be rescued?”

“Impossible. Had she followed my counsel she would never have beentaken.”

“Can she be communicated with?”

“No. Twenty years ago it might have been managed, now the Office isstricter and purer. Gold has no power there. We shall never see or hear of heragain, unless, indeed, it is at the hour of her death, when, should she chooseto speak with me, the indulgence may possibly be granted to her, though I doubtit. But it is not likely that she will wish to do so. Should she succeed inhiding her disgrace, she may escape; but it is not probable. Do not look sosad, nephew, religion must have its sacrifices. Perchance it is better for herto die thus than to live for many years dead in life. She can die but once. Mayher blood lie heavy on de Garcia’s head!”

“Amen!” I answered.

CHAPTER IX
THOMAS BECOMES RICH

For many months we heard no more of de Garcia or of Isabella de Siguenza. Bothhad vanished leaving no sign, and we searched for them in vain. As for me Ifell back into my former way of life of assistant to Fonseca, posing before theworld as his nephew. But it came about that from the night of my duel with themurderer, my master’s health declined steadily through the action of awasting disease of the liver which baffled all skill, so that within eightmonths of that time he lay almost bedridden and at the point of death. His mindindeed remained quite clear, and on occasions he would even receive those whocame to consult him, reclining on a chair and wrapped in his embroidered robe.But the hand of death lay on him, and he knew that it was so. As the weeks wentby he grew more and more attached to me, till at length, had I been his son, hecould not have treated me with a greater affection, while for my part I didwhat lay in my power to lessen his sufferings, for he would let no otherphysician near him.

At length when he had grown very feeble he expressed a desire to see a notary.The man he named was sent for and remained closeted with him for an hour ormore, when he left for a while to return with several of his clerks, whoaccompanied him to my master’s room, from which I was excluded. Presentlythey all went away, bearing some parchments with them.

That evening Fonseca sent for me. I found him very weak, but cheerful and fullof talk.

“Come here, nephew,” he said, “I have had a busy day. I havebeen busy all my life through, and it would not be well to grow idle at thelast. Do you know what I have been doing this day?”

I shook my head.

“I will tell you. I have been making my will—there is something toleave; not so very much, but still something.”

“Do not talk of wills,” I said; “I trust that you may livefor many years.”

He laughed. “You must think badly of my case, nephew, when you think thatI can be deceived thus. I am about to die as you know well, and I do not feardeath. My life has been prosperous but not happy, for it was blighted in itsspring—no matter how. The story is an old one and not worth telling;moreover, whichever way it had read, it had all been one now in the hour ofdeath. We must travel our journey each of us; what does it matter if the roadhas been good or bad when we have reached the goal? For my part religionneither comforts nor frightens me now at the last. I will stand or fall uponthe record of my life. I have done evil in it and I have done good; the evil Ihave done because nature and temptation have been too strong for me at times,the good also because my heart prompted me to it. Well, it is finished, andafter all death cannot be so terrible, seeing that every human being is born toundergo it, together with all living things. Whatever else is false, I holdthis to be true, that God exists and is more merciful than those who preach Himwould have us to believe.” And he ceased exhausted.

Often since then I have thought of his words, and I still think of them nowthat my own hour is so near. As will be seen Fonseca was a fatalist, a beliefwhich I do not altogether share, holding as I do that within certain limits weare allowed to shape our own characters and destinies. But his last sayings Ibelieve to be true. God is merciful, and death is not terrible either in itsact or in its consequence.

Presently Fonseca spoke again. “Why do you lead me to talk of suchthings? They weary me and I have little time. I was telling of my will. Nephew,listen. Except certain sums that I have given to be spent incharities—not in masses, mind you—I have left you all Ipossess.”

“You have left it to me!” I said astonished.

“Yes, nephew, to you. Why not? I have no relations living and I havelearned to love you, I who thought that I could never care again for any man orwoman or child. I am grateful to you, who have proved to me that my heart isnot dead, take what I give you as a mark of my gratitude.”

Now I began to stammer my thanks, but he stopped me. “The sum that youwill inherit, nephew, amounts in all to about five thousand gold pesos, orperhaps twelve thousand of your English pounds, enough for a young man to beginlife on, even with a wife. Indeed there in England it may well be held a greatfortune, and I think that your betrothed’s father will make no moreobjection to you as a son-in-law. Also there is this house and all that itcontains; the library and the silver are valuable, and you will do well to keepthem. All is left to you with the fullest formality, so that no question canarise as to your right to take it; indeed, foreseeing my end, I have of latecalled in my moneys, and for the most part the gold lies in strong boxes in thesecret cupboard in the wall yonder that you know of. It would have been morehad I known you some years ago, for then, thinking that I grew too rich who waswithout an heir, I gave away as much as what remains in acts of mercy and inproviding refuge for the homeless and the suffering. Thomas Wingfield, for themost part this money has come to me as the fruit of human folly and humanwretchedness, frailty and sin. Use it for the purposes of wisdom and theadvancing of right and liberty. May it prosper you, and remind you of me, yourold master, the Spanish quack, till at last you pass it on to your children orthe poor. And now one word more. If your conscience will let you, abandon thepursuit of de Garcia. Take your fortune and go with it to England; wed thatmaid whom you desire, and follow after happiness in whatever way seems best toyou. Who are you that you should mete out vengeance on this knave de Garcia?Let him be, and he will avenge himself upon himself. Otherwise you may undergomuch toil and danger, and in the end lose love, and life, and fortune at ablow.”

“But I have sworn to kill him,” I answered, “and how can Ibreak so solemn an oath? How could I sit at home in peace beneath the burden ofsuch shame?”

“I do not know; it is not for me to judge. You must do as you wish, butin the doing of it, it may happen that you will fall into greater shames thanthis. You have fought the man and he has escaped you. Let him go if you arewise. Now bend down and kiss me, and bid me farewell. I do not desire that youshould see me die, and my death is near. I cannot tell if we shall meet againwhen in your turn you have lain as I lie now, or if we shape our course fordifferent stars. If so, farewell for ever.”

Then I leant down and kissed him on the forehead, and as I did so I wept, fornot till this hour did I learn how truly I had come to love him, so truly thatit seemed to me as though my father lay there dying.

“Weep not,” he said, “for all our life is but a parting. OnceI had a son like you, and ours was the bitterest of farewells. Now I go to seekfor him again who could not come back to me, so weep not because I die.Good-bye, Thomas Wingfield. May God prosper and protect you! Now go!”

So I went weeping, and that night, before the dawn, all was over with Andres deFonseca. They told me that he was conscious to the end and died murmuring thename of that son of whom he spoke in his last words to me.

What was the history of this son, or of Fonseca himself, I never learned, forlike an Indian he hid his trail as step by step he wandered down the path oflife. He never spoke of his past, and in all the books and documents that heleft behind him there is no allusion to it. Once, some years ago, I readthrough the cipher volumes of records that I have spoken of, and of which hegave me the key before he died. They stand before me on the shelf as I write,and in them are many histories of shame, sorrow, and evil, of faith deluded andinnocence betrayed, of the cruelty of priests, of avarice triumphant over love,and of love triumphant over death—enough, indeed, to furnish half ahundred of true romances. But among these chronicles of a generation now pastand forgotten, there is no mention of Fonseca’s own name and no hint ofhis own story. It is lost for ever, and perhaps this is well. So died mybenefactor and best friend.

When he was made ready for burial I went in to see him and he looked calm andbeautiful in his death sleep. Then it was that she who had arrayed him for thegrave handed to me two portraits most delicately painted on ivory and set ingold, which had been found about his neck. I have them yet. One is of the headof a lady with a sweet and wistful countenance, and the other the face of adead youth also beautiful, but very sad. Doubtless they were mother and son,but I know no more about them.

On the morrow I buried Andres de Fonseca, but with no pomp, for he had saidthat he wished as little money as possible spent upon his dead body, andreturned to the house to meet the notaries. Then the seals were broken and theparchments read and I was put in full possession of the dead man’swealth, and having deducted such sums as were payable for dues, legacies, andfees, the notaries left me bowing humbly, for was I not rich? Yes, I was rich,wealth had come to me without effort, and I had reason to desire it, yet thiswas the saddest night that I had passed since I set foot in Spain, for my mindwas filled with doubts and sorrow, and moreover my loneliness got a hold of me.But sad as it might be, it was destined to seem yet more sorrowful before themorning. For as I sat making pretence to eat, a servant came to me saying thata woman waited in the outer room who had asked to see his late master. Guessingthat this was some client who had not heard of Fonseca’s death I wasabout to order that she should be dismissed, then bethought me that I might beof service to her or at the least forget some of my own trouble in listening tohers. So I bade him bring her in. Presently she came, a tall woman wrapped in adark cloak that hid her face. I bowed and motioned to her to be seated, whensuddenly she started and spoke.

“I asked to see Don Andres de Fonseca,” she said in a low quickvoice. “You are not he, señor.”

“Andres de Fonseca was buried to-day,” I answered. “I was hisassistant in his business and am his heir. If I can serve you in any way I amat your disposal.”

“You are young—very young,” she murmured confusedly,“and the matter is terrible and urgent. How can I trust you?”

“It is for you to judge, señora.”

She thought a while, then drew off her cloak, displaying the robes of a nun.

“Listen,” she said. “I must do many a penance for thisnight’s work, and very hardly have I won leave to come hither upon anerrand of mercy. Now I cannot go back empty-handed, so I must trust you. Butfirst swear by thine blessed Mother of God that you will not betray me.”

“I give you my word,” I answered; “if that is not enough, letus end this talk.”

“Do not be angry with me,” she pleaded; “I have not left myconvent walls for many years and I am distraught with grief. I seek a poison ofthe deadliest. I will pay well for it.”

“I am not the tool of murderers,” I answered. “For whatpurpose do you wish the poison?”

“Oh! I must tell you—yet how can I? In our convent there diesto-night a woman young and fair, almost a girl indeed, who has broken the vowsshe took. She dies to-night with her babe—thus, oh God, thus! by beingbuilt alive into the foundations of the house she has disgraced. It is thejudgment that has been passed upon her, judgment without forgiveness orreprieve. I am the abbess of this convent—ask not its name ormine—and I love this sinner as though she were my daughter. I haveobtained this much of mercy for her because of my faithful services to thechurch and by secret influence, that when I give her the cup of water beforethe work is done, I may mix poison with it and touch the lips of the babe withpoison, so that their end is swift. I may do this and yet have no sin upon mysoul. I have my pardon under seal. Help me then to be an innocent murderess,and to save this sinner from her last agonies on earth.”

I cannot set down the feelings with which I listened to this tale of horror,for words could not carry them. I stood aghast seeking an answer, and adreadful thought entered my mind.

“Is this woman named Isabella de Siguenza?” I asked.

“That name was hers in the world,” she answered, “though howyou know it I cannot guess.”

“We know many things in this house, mother. Say now, can this Isabella besaved by money or by interest?”

“It is impossible; her sentence has been confirmed by the Tribunal ofMercy. She must die and within two hours. Will you not give the poison?”

“I cannot give it unless I know its purpose, mother. This may be a barrentale, and the medicine might be used in such a fashion that I should fallbeneath the law. At one price only can I give it, and it is that I am there tosee it used.”

She thought a while and answered: “It may be done, for as it chances thewording of my absolution will cover it. But you must come cowled as a priest,that those who carry out the sentence may know nothing. Still others will knowand I warn you that should you speak of the matter you yourself will meet withmisfortune. The Church avenges itself on those who betray its secrets,señor.”

“As one day its secrets will avenge themselves upon the Church,” Ianswered bitterly. “And now let me seek a fitting drug—one that isswift, yet not too swift, lest your hounds should see themselves baffled of theprey before all their devilry is done. Here is something that will do thework,” and I held up a phial that I drew from a case of such medicines.“Come, veil yourself, mother, and let us be gone upon this ‘errandof mercy.’”

She obeyed, and presently we left the house and walked away swiftly through thecrowded streets till we came to the ancient part of the city along theriver’s edge. Here the woman led me to a wharf where a boat was inwaiting for her. We entered it, and were rowed for a mile or more up the streamtill the boat halted at a landing-place beneath a high wall. Leaving it, wecame to a door in the wall on which my companion knocked thrice. Presently ashutter in the woodwork was drawn, and a white face peeped through the gratingand spoke. My companion answered in a low voice, and after some delay the doorwas opened, and I found myself in a large walled garden planted with orangetrees. Then the abbess spoke to me.

“I have led you to our house,” she said. “If you know whereyou are, and what its name may be, for your own sake I pray you forget it whenyou leave these doors.”

I made no answer, but looked round the dim and dewy garden.

Here it was doubtless that de Garcia had met that unfortunate who must die thisnight. A walk of a hundred paces brought us to another door in the wall of along low building of Moorish style. Here the knocking and the questioning wererepeated at more length. Then the door was opened, and I found myself in apassage, ill lighted, long and narrow, in the depths of which I could see thefigures of nuns flitting to and fro like bats in a tomb. The abbess walked downthe passage till she came to a door on the right which she opened. It led intoa cell, and here she left me in the dark. For ten minutes or more I stayedthere, a prey to thoughts that I had rather forget. At length the door openedagain, and she came in, followed by a tall priest whose face I could not see,for he was dressed in the white robe and hood of the Dominicans that leftnothing visible except his eyes.

“Greeting, my son,” he said, when he had scanned me for a while.“The abbess mother has told me of your errand. You are full young forsuch a task.”

“Were I old I should not love it better, father. You know the case. I amasked to provide a deadly drug for a certain merciful purpose. I have providedthat drug, but I must be there to see that it is put to proper use.”

“You are very cautious, my son. The Church is no murderess. This womanmust die because her sin is flagrant, and of late such wickedness has becomecommon. Therefore, after much thought and prayer, and many searchings to find ameans of mercy, she is condemned to death by those whose names are too high tobe spoken. I, alas, am here to see the sentence carried out with a certainmitigation which has been allowed by the mercy of her chief judge. It seemsthat your presence is needful to this act of love, therefore I suffer it. Themother abbess has warned you that evil dogs the feet of those who reveal thesecrets of the Church. For your own sake I pray you to lay that warning toheart.”

“I am no babbler, father, so the caution is not needed. One word more.This visit should be well feed, the medicine is costly.”

“Fear not, physician,” the monk answered with a note of scorn inhis voice; “name your sum, it shall be paid to you.”

“I ask no money, father. Indeed I would pay much to be far away to-night.I ask only that I may be allowed to speak with this girl before shedies.”

“What!” he said, starting, “surely you are not that wickedman? If so, you are bold indeed to risk the sharing of her fate.”

“No, father, I am not that man. I never saw Isabella de Siguenza exceptonce, and I have never spoken to her. I am not the man who tricked her but Iknow him; he is named Juan de Garcia.”

“Ah!” he said quickly, “she would never tell his real name,even under threat of torture. Poor erring soul, she could be faithful in herunfaith. Of what would you speak to her?”

“I wish to ask her whither this man has gone. He is my enemy, and I wouldfollow him as I have already followed him far. He has done worse by me and minethan by this poor girl even. Grant my request, father, that I may be able towork my vengeance on him, and with mine the Church’s also.”

“‘Vengeance is mine,’ saith the Lord; ‘I willrepay.’ Yet it may be, son, that the Lord will choose you as theinstrument of his wrath. An opportunity shall be given you to speak with her.Now put on this dress”—and he handed me a white Dominican hood androbe—“and follow me.”

“First,” I said, “let me give this medicine to the abbess,for I will have no hand in its administering. Take it, mother, and when thetime comes, pour the contents of the phial into a cup of water. Then, havingtouched the mouth and tongue of the babe with the fluid, give it to the motherto drink and be sure that she does drink it. Before the bricks are built upabout them both will sleep sound, never to wake again.”

“I will do it,” murmured the abbess; “having absolution Iwill be bold, and do it for love and mercy’s sake!”

“Your heart is too soft, sister. Justice ismercy,” said themonk with a sigh. “Alas for the frailty of the flesh that wars againstthe spirit!”

Then I clothed myself in the ghastly looking dress, and they took lamps andmotioned to me to follow them.

CHAPTER X
THE PASSING OF ISABELLA DE SIGUENZA

Silently we went down the long passage, and as we went I saw the eyes of thedwellers in this living tomb watch us pass through the gratings of their celldoors. Little wonder that the woman about to die had striven to escape fromsuch a home back to the world of life and love! Yet for that crime she mustperish. Surely God will remember the doings of such men as these priests, andthe nation that fosters them. And, in deed, He does remember, for where is thesplendour of Spain to-day, and where are the cruel rites she gloried in? Herein England their fetters are broken for ever, and in striving to bind them fastupon us free Englishmen she is broken also—never to be whole again.

At the far end of the passage we found a stair down which we passed. At itsfoot was an iron-bound door that the monk unlocked and locked again upon thefurther side. Then came another passage hollowed in the thickness of the wall,and a second door, and we were in the place of death.

It was a vault low and damp, and the waters of the river washed its outer wall,for I could hear their murmuring in the silence. Perhaps the place may havemeasured ten paces in length by eight broad. For the rest its roof wassupported by massive columns, and on one side there was a second door that ledto a prison cell. At the further end of this gloomy den, that was dimly lightedby torches and lamps, two men with hooded heads, and draped in coarse blackgowns, were at work, silently mixing lime that sent up a hot steam upon thestagnant air. By their sides were squares of dressed stone ranged neatlyagainst the end of the vault, and before them was a niche cut in the thicknessof the wall itself, shaped like a large coffin set upon its smaller end. Infront of this niche was placed a massive chair of chestnut wood. I noticed alsothat two other such coffin-shaped niches had been cut in this same wall, andfilled in with similar blocks of whitish stone. On the face of each was a dategraved in deep letters. One had been sealed up some thirty years before, andone hard upon a hundred.

These two men were the only occupants of the vault when we entered it, butpresently a sound of soft and solemn singing stole down the second passage.Then the door was opened, the mason monks ceased labouring at the heap of lime,and the sound of singing grew louder so that I could catch the refrain. It wasthat of a Latin hymn for the dying. Next through the open door came the choir,eight veiled nuns walking two by two, and ranging themselves on either side ofthe vault they ceased their singing. After them followed the doomed woman,guarded by two more nuns, and last of all a priest bearing a crucifix. This manwore a black robe, and his thin half-frenzied face was uncovered. All these andother things I noticed and remembered, yet at the time it seemed to me that Isaw nothing except the figure of the victim. I knew her again, although I hadseen her but once in the moonlight. She was changed indeed, her lovely face wasfuller and the great tormented eyes shone like stars against its waxen pallor,relieved by the carmine of her lips alone. Still it was the same face that someeight months before I had seen lifted in entreaty to her false lover. Now hertall shape was wrapped about with grave clothes over which her black hairstreamed, and in her arms she bore a sleeping babe that from time to time shepressed convulsively to her breast.

On the threshold of her tomb Isabella de Siguenza paused and looked roundwildly as though for help, scanning each of the silent watchers to find afriend among them. Then her eye fell upon the niche and the heap of smokinglime and the men who guarded it, and she shuddered and would have fallen hadnot those who attended her led her to the chair and placed her in it—aliving corpse.

Now the dreadful rites began. The Dominican father stood before her and recitedher offence, and the sentence that had been passed upon her, which doomed her,“to be left alone with God and the child of your sin, that He may dealwith you as He sees fit.“^[3]To all of this she seemed to pay no heed, nor to the exhortation that followed.At length he ceased with a sigh, and turning to me said:

“Draw near to this sinner, brother, and speak with her before it is toolate.”

[3]Lest such cruelty should seem impossible and unprecedented, the writer maymention that in the museum of the city of Mexico, he has seen the desiccatedbody of a young woman, which was found immured in the walls of a religiousbuilding. With it is the body of an infant. Although the exact cause of herexecution remains a matter of conjecture, there can be no doubt as to themanner of her death, for in addition to other evidences, the marks of the ropewith which her limbs were bound in life are still distinctly visible. Such inthose days were the mercies of religion!

Then he bade all present gather themselves at the far end of the vault that ourtalk might not be overheard, and they did so without wonder, thinking doubtlessthat I was a monk sent to confess the doomed woman.

So I drew near with a beating heart, and bending over her I spoke in her ear.

“Listen to me, Isabella de Siguenza!” I said; and as I uttered thename she started wildly. “Where is that de Garcia who deceived anddeserted you?”

“How have you learnt his true name?” she answered. “Not eventorture would have wrung it from me as you know.”

“I am no monk and I know nothing. I am that man who fought with de Garciaon the night when you were taken, and who would have killed him had you notseized me.”

“At the least I saved him, that is my comfort now.”

“Isabella de Siguenza,” I said, “I am your friend, the bestyou ever had and the last, as you shall learn presently. Tell me where this manis, for there is that between us which must be settled.”

“If you are my friend, weary me no more. I do not know where he is.Months ago he went whither you will scarcely follow, to the furthest Indies;but you will never find him there.”

“It may still be that I shall, and if it should so chance, say have youany message for this man?”

“None—yes, this. Tell him how we died, his child and hiswife—tell him that I did my best to hide his name from the priests lestsome like fate should befall him.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes. No, it is not all. Tell him that I passed away loving andforgiving.”

“My time is short,” I said; “awake and listen!” forhaving spoken thus she seemed to be sinking into a lethargy. “I was theassistant of that Andres de Fonseca whose counsel you put aside to your ruin,and I have given a certain drug to the abbess yonder. When she offers you thecup of water, see that you drink and deep, you and the child. If so none shallever die more happily. Do you understand?”

“Yes—yes,” she gasped, “and may blessings rest upon youfor the gift. Now I am no more afraid—for I have long desired todie—it was the way I feared.”

“Then farewell, and God be with you, unhappy woman.”

“Farewell,” she answered softly, “but call me not unhappy whoam about to die thus easily with that I love.” And she glanced at thesleeping babe.

Then I drew back and stood with bent head, speaking no word. Now the Dominicanmotioned to all to take the places where they had stood before and asked her:

“Erring sister, have you aught to say before you are silent forever?”

“Yes,” she answered in a clear, sweet voice, that never evenquavered, so bold had she become since she learned that her death would beswift and easy. “Yes, I have this to say, that I go to my end with aclean heart, for if I have sinned it is against custom and not against God. Ibroke the vows indeed, but I was forced to take those vows, and, therefore,they did not bind. I was a woman born for light and love, and yet I was thrustinto the darkness of this cloister, there to wither dead in life. And so Ibroke the vows, and I am glad that I have broken them, though it has brought meto this. If I was deceived and my marriage is no marriage before the law asthey tell me now, I knew nothing of it, therefore to me it is still valid andholy and on my soul there rests no stain. At the least I have lived, and forsome few hours I have been wife and mother, and it is as well to die swiftly inthis cell that your mercy has prepared, as more slowly in those above. And nowfor you—I tell you that your wickedness shall find you out, you who dareto say to God’s children—‘Ye shall not love,’ and towork murder on them because they will not listen. It shall find you out I say,and not only you but the Church you serve. Both priest and Church shall bebroken together and shall be a scorn in the mouths of men to come.”

“She is distraught,” said the Dominican as a sigh of fear andwonder went round the vault, “and blasphemes in her madness. Forget herwords. Shrive her, brother, swiftly ere she adds to them.”

Then the black-robed, keen-eyed priest came to her, and holding the crossbefore her face, began to mutter I know not what. But she rose from the chairand thrust the crucifix aside.

“Peace!” she said, “I will not be shriven by such as you. Itake my sins to God and not to you—you who do murder in the name ofChrist.”

The fanatic heard and a fury took him.

“Then go unshriven down to hell, you—” and he named her byill names and struck her in the face with the ivory crucifix.

The Dominican bade him cease his revilings angrily enough, but Isabella deSiguenza wiped her bruised brow and laughed aloud a dreadful laugh to hear.

“Now I see that you are a coward also,” she said. “Priest,this is my last prayer, that you also may perish at the hands of fanatics, andmore terribly than I die to-night.”

Then they hurried her into the place prepared for her and she spoke again:

“Give me to drink, for we thirst, my babe and I!”

Now I saw the abbess enter that passage whence the victim had been led.Presently she came back bearing a cup of water in her hand and with it a loafof bread, and I knew by her mien that my draught was in the water. But of whatbefell afterwards I cannot say certainly, for I prayed the Dominican to openthe door by which we had entered the vault, and passing through it I stooddazed with horror at some distance. A while went by, I do not know how long,till at length I saw the abbess standing before me, a lantern in her hand, andshe was sobbing bitterly.

“All is done,” she said. “Nay, have no fear, the draughtworked well. Before ever a stone was laid mother and child slept sound. Alasfor her soul who died unrepentant and unshriven!”

“Alas for the souls of all who have shared in this night’swork,” I answered. “Now, mother, let me hence, and may we nevermeet again!”

Then she led me back to the cell, where I tore off that accursed monk’srobe, and thence to the door in the garden wall and to the boat which stillwaited on the river, and I rejoiced to feel the sweet air upon my face as onerejoices who awakes from some foul dream. But I won little sleep that night,nor indeed for some days to come. For whenever I closed my eyes there rosebefore me the vision of that beauteous woman as I saw her last by the murkytorchlight, wrapped in grave clothes and standing in the coffin-shaped niche,proud and defiant to the end, her child clasped to her with one arm while theother was outstretched to take the draught of death. Few have seen such asight, for the Holy Office and its helpers do not seek witnesses to their darkdeeds, and none would wish to see it twice. If I have described it ill, it isnot that I have forgotten, but because even now, after the lapse of someseventy years, I can scarcely bear to write of it or to set out its horrorsfully. But of all that was wonderful about it perhaps the most wonderful wasthat even to the last this unfortunate lady should still have clung to her lovefor the villain who, having deceived her by a false marriage, deserted her,leaving her to such a doom. To what end can so holy a gift as this great loveof hers have been bestowed on such a man? None can say, but so it was. Yet nowthat I think of it, there is one thing even stranger than her faithfulness.

It will be remembered that when the fanatic priest struck her she prayed thathe also might die at such hands and more terribly than she must do. So it cameabout. In after years that very man, Father Pedro by name, was sent to convertthe heathen of Anahuac, among whom, because of his cruelty, he was known as the“Christian Devil.” But it chanced that venturing too far among aclan of the Otomie before they were finally subdued, he fell into the hands ofsome priests of the war god Huitzel, and by them was sacrificed after theirdreadful fashion. I saw him as he went to his death, and without telling that Ihad been present when it was uttered, I called to his mind the dying curse ofIsabella de Siguenza. Then for a moment his courage gave way, for seeing in menothing but an Indian chief, he believed that the devil had put the words intomy lips to torment him, causing me to speak of what I knew nothing. But enoughof this now; if it is necessary I will tell of it in its proper place. Atleast, whether it was by chance, or because she had a gift of vision in herlast hours, or that Providence was avenged on him after this fashion, so itcame about, and I do not sorrow for it, though the death of this priest broughtmuch misfortune on me.

This then was the end of Isabella de Siguenza who was murdered by priestsbecause she had dared to break their rule.

So soon as I could clear my mind somewhat of all that I had seen and heard inthat dreadful vault, I began to consider the circumstances in which I foundmyself. In the first place I was now a rich man, and if it pleased me to goback to Norfolk with my wealth, as Fonseca had pointed out, my prospects werefair indeed. But the oath that I had taken hung like lead about my neck. I hadsworn to be avenged upon de Garcia, and I had prayed that the curse of heavenmight rest upon me till I was so avenged, but in England living in peace andplenty I could scarcely come by vengeance. Moreover, now I knew where he was,or at least in what portion of the world I might seek him, and there wherewhite men are few he could not hide from me as in Spain. This tidings I hadgained from the doomed lady, and I have told her story at some length becauseit was through it and her that I came to journey to Hispaniola, as it wasbecause of the sacrifice of her tormentor, Father Pedro, by the priests of theOtomie that I am here in England this day, since had it not been for thatsacrifice the Spaniards would never have stormed the City of Pines, where,alive or dead, I should doubtless have been to this hour; for thus do seemingaccidents build up the fates of men. Had those words never passedIsabella’s lips, doubtless in time I should have wearied of a uselesssearch and sailed for home and happiness. But having heard them it seemed tome, to my undoing, that this would be to play the part of a sorry coward.Moreover, strange as it may look, now I felt as though I had two wrongs toavenge, that of my mother and that of Isabella de Siguenza. Indeed none couldhave seen that young and lovely lady die thus terribly and not desire to wreakher death on him who had betrayed and deserted her.

So the end of it was that being of a stubborn temper, I determined to doviolence to my own desires and the dying counsels of my benefactor, and tofollow de Garcia to the ends of the earth and there to kill him as I had swornto do.

First, however, I inquired secretly and diligently as to the truth of thestatement that de Garcia had sailed for the Indies, and to be brief, having theclue, I discovered that two days after the date of the duel I had fought withhim, a man answering to de Garcia’s description, though bearing adifferent name, had shipped from Seville in a carakbound for the CanaryIslands, which carakwas there to await the arrival of the fleet sailingfor Hispaniola. Indeed from various circumstances I had little doubt that theman was none other than de Garcia himself, which, although I had not thought ofit before, was not strange, seeing that then as now the Indies were the refugeof half the desperadoes and villains who could no longer live in Spain. Thitherthen I made up my mind to follow him, consoling myself a little by the thoughtthat at least I should see new and wonderful countries, though how new andwonderful they were I did not guess.

Now it remained for me to dispose of the wealth which had come to me suddenly.While I was wondering how I could place it in safety till my return, I heard bychance that the “Adventuress” of Yarmouth, the same ship in which Ihad come to Spain a year before, was again in the port of Cadiz, and Ibethought me that the best thing I could do with the gold and other articles ofvalue would be to ship them to England, there to be held in trust for me. Sohaving despatched a message to my friend the captain of the“Adventuress,” that I had freight of value for him, I made mypreparations to depart from Seville with such speed as I might, and to this endI sold my benefactor’s house, with many of the effects, at a price muchbelow their worth. The most of the books and plate, together with some otherarticles, I kept, and packing them in cases, I caused them to be transporteddown the river to Cadiz, to the care of those same agents to whom I hadreceived letters from the Yarmouth merchants.

This being done I followed thither myself, taking the bulk of my fortune withme in gold, which I hid artfully in numerous packages. And so it came to passthat after a stay of a year in Seville, I turned my back on it for ever. Mysojourn there had been fortunate, for I came to it poor and left it a rich man,to say nothing of what I had gained in experience, which was much. Yet I wasglad to be gone, for here Juan de Garcia had escaped me, here I had lost mybest friend and seen Isabella de Siguenza die.

I came to Cadiz in safety and without loss of any of my goods or gold, andtaking boat proceeded on board the “Adventuress,” where I found hercaptain, whose name was Bell, in good health and very glad to see me. Whatpleased me more, however, was that he had three letters for me, one from myfather, one from my sister Mary, and one from my betrothed, Lily Bozard, theonly letter I ever received from her. The contents of these writings were notaltogether pleasing however, for I learned from them that my father was inbroken health and almost bedridden, and indeed, though I did not know it formany years after, he died in Ditchingham Church upon the very day that Ireceived his letter. It was short and sad, and in it he said that he sorrowedmuch that he had allowed me to go upon my mission, since he should see me nomore and could only commend me to the care of the Almighty, and pray Him for mysafe return. As for Lily’s letter, which, hearing that the“Adventuress” was to sail for Cadiz, she had found means todespatch secretly, though it was not short it was sad also, and told me that sosoon as my back was turned on home, my brother Geoffrey had asked her inmarriage from her father, and that they pushed the matter strongly, so that herlife was made a misery to her, for my brother waylaid her everywhere, and herfather did not cease to revile her as an obstinate jade who would fling awayher fortune for the sake of a penniless wanderer.

“But,” it went on, “be assured, sweetheart, that unless theymarry me by force, as they have threatened to do, I will not budge from mypromise. And, Thomas, should I be wedded thus against my will, I shall not be awife for long, for though I am strong I believe that I shall die of shame andsorrow. It is hard that I should be thus tormented, and for one reason only,that you are not rich. Still I have good hope that things may betterthemselves, for I see that my brother Wilfred is much inclined towards yoursister Mary, and though he also urges this marriage on me to-day, she is afriend to both of us and may be in the way to make terms with him before sheaccepts his suit.” Then the writing ended with many tender words andprayers for my safe return.

As for the letter from my sister Mary it was to the same purpose. As yet, shesaid, she could do nothing for me with Lily Bozard, for my brother Geoffrey wasmad with love for her, my father was too ill to meddle in the matter, andSquire Bozard was fiercely set upon the marriage because of the lands that wereat stake. Still, she hinted, things might not always be so, as a time mightcome when she could speak up for me and not in vain.

Now all this news gave me much cause for thought. More indeed, it awoke in me alonging for home which was so strong that it grew almost to a sickness. Herloving words and the perfume that hung about the letter of my betrothed broughtLily back to me in such sort that my heart ached with a desire to be with her.Moreover I knew that I should be welcome now, for my fortune was far greaterthan my brother’s would ever be, and parents do not show the door tosuitors who bring more than twelve thousand golden pieces in their baggage.Also I wished to see my father again before he passed beyond my reach. Butstill between me and my desire lay the shadow of de Garcia and my oath. I hadbrooded on vengeance for so long that I felt even in the midst of this strongtemptation that I should have no pleasure in my life if I forsook my quest. Tobe happy I must first kill de Garcia. Moreover I had come to believe that did Iso forsake it the curse which I had invoked would surely fall upon me.

Meanwhile I did this. Going to a notary I caused him to prepare a deed which Itranslated into English. By this deed I vested all my fortune except twohundred pesos that I kept for my own use, in three persons to hold the same onmy behalf till I came to claim it. Those three persons were my old master,Doctor Grimstone of Bungay, whom I knew for the honestest of men, my sisterMary Wingfield, and my betrothed, Lily Bozard. I directed them by this deed,which for greater validity I signed upon the ship and caused to be witnessed byCaptain Bell and two other Englishmen, to deal with the property according totheir discretion, investing not less than half of it in the purchase of landsand putting the rest out to interest, which interest with the rent of the landswas to be paid to the said Lily Bozard for her own use for so long as sheremained unmarried.

Also with the deed I executed a will by which I devised the most of my propertyto Lily Bozard should she be unmarried at the date of my death, and the residueto my sister Mary. In the event of the marriage or death of Lily, then thewhole was to pass to Mary and her heirs.

These two documents being signed and sealed, I delivered them, together withall my treasure and other goods, into the keeping of Captain Bell, charging himsolemnly to hand them and my possessions to Dr. Grimstone of Bungay, by whom hewould be liberally rewarded. This he promised to do, though not until he hadurged me almost with tears to accompany them myself.

With the gold and the deeds I sent several letters; to my father, my sister, mybrother, Dr. Grimstone, Squire Bozard, and lastly to Lily herself. In theseletters I gave an account of my life and fortunes since I had come to Spain,for I gathered that others which I had sent had never reached England, and toldthem of my resolution to follow de Garcia to the ends of the earth.

“Others,” I wrote to Lily, “may think me a madman thus topostpone, or perchance to lose, a happiness which I desire above anything onearth, but you who understand my heart will not blame me, however much you maygrieve for my decision. You will know that when once I have set my mind upon anobject, nothing except death itself can turn me from it, and that in thismatter I am bound by an oath which my conscience will not suffer me to break. Icould never be happy even at your side if I abandoned my search now. First mustcome the toil and then the rest, first the sorrow and then the joy. Do not fearfor me, I feel that I shall live to return again, and if I do not return, atleast I am able to provide for you in such fashion that you need never bemarried against your will. While de Garcia lives I must follow him.”

To my brother Geoffrey I wrote very shortly, telling him what I thought of hisconduct in persecuting an undefended maiden and striving to do wrong to anabsent brother. I have heard that my letter pleased him very ill.

And here I may state that those letters and everything else that I sent camesafely to Yarmouth. There the gold and goods were taken to Lowestoft and putaboard a wherry, and when he had discharged his ship, Captain Bell sailed upthe Waveney with them till he brought them to Bungay Staithe and thence to thehouse of Dr. Grimstone in Nethergate Street. Here were gathered my sister andbrother, for my father was then two months buried—and also Squire Bozardand his son and daughter, for Captain Bell had advised them of his coming bymessenger, and when all the tale was told there was wonder and to spare. Stillgreater did it grow when the chests were opened and the weight of bullioncompared with that set out in my letters, for there had never been so much goldat once in Bungay within the memory of man.

And now Lily wept, first for joy because of my good fortune, and then forsorrow because I had not come with my treasure, and when he had seen all andheard the deeds read by virtue of which Lily was a rich woman whether I livedor died, the Squire her father swore aloud and said that he had always thoughtwell of me, and kissed his daughter, wishing her joy of her luck. In short allwere pleased except my brother, who left the house without a word andstraightway took to evil courses. For now the cup was dashed from his lips,seeing that having come into my father’s lands, he had brought it aboutthat Lily was to be married to him by might if no other means would serve. Foreven now a man can force his daughter into marriage while she is under age, andSquire Bozard was not one to shrink from such a deed, holding as he did that awoman’s fancies were of no account. But on this day, so great is thepower of gold, there was no more talk of her marrying any man except myself,indeed her father would have held her back from such a thing had she shown amind to it, seeing that then Lily would have lost the wealth which I hadsettled on her. But all talked loudly of my madness because I would not abandonthe chase of my enemy but chose to follow him to the far Indies, though SquireBozard took comfort from the thought that whether I lived or died the money wasstill his daughter’s. Only Lily spoke up for me, saying “Thomas hassworn an oath and he does well to keep it, for his honour is at stake. Now I goto wait until he comes to me in this world or the next.”

But all this is out of place, for many a year passed away before I heard ofthese doings.

CHAPTER XI
THE LOSS OF THE CARAK

On the day after I had given my fortune and letters into the charge of CaptainBell, I watched the “Adventuress” drop slowly round the mole ofCadiz, and so sad was I at heart, that I am not ashamed to confess I wept. Iwould gladly have lost the wealth she carried if she had but carried me. But mypurpose was indomitable, and it must be some other ship that would bear me hometo the shores of England.

As it chanced, a large Spanish caraknamed “Las CinqueLlagas,” or “The Five Wounds,” was about to sail forHispaniola, and having obtained a licence to trade, I took passage in her undermy assumed name of d’Aila, passing myself off as a merchant. To furtherthis deception I purchased goods the value of one hundred and five pesos, andof such nature as I was informed were most readily saleable in the Indies,which merchandise I shipped with me. The vessel was full of Spanishadventurers, mostly ruffians of varied career and strange history, but none theless good companions enough when not in drink. By this time I could speakCastilian so perfectly, and was so Spanish in appearance, that it was notdifficult for me to pass myself off as one of their nation and this I did,inventing a feigned tale of my parentage, and of the reasons that led me totempt the seas. For the rest, now as ever I kept my own counsel, andnotwithstanding my reserve, for I would not mingle in their orgies, I soonbecame well liked by my comrades, chiefly because of my skill in ministering totheir sicknesses.

Of our voyage there is little to tell except of its sad end. At the CanaryIsles we stayed a month, and then sailed away for Hispaniola, meeting with fineweather but light winds. When, as our captain reckoned, we were within aweek’s sail of the port of San Domingo for which we were bound, theweather changed, and presently gathered to a furious tempest from the norththat grew more terrible every hour. For three days and nights our cumbrousvessel groaned and laboured beneath the stress of the gale, that drove us onrapidly we knew not whither, till at length it became clear that, unless theweather moderated, we must founder. Our ship leaked at every seam, one of ourmasts was carried away, and another broken in two, at a height of twenty feetfrom the deck. But all these misfortunes were small compared to what was tocome, for on the fourth morning a great wave swept off our rudder, and wedrifted helpless before the waves. An hour later a green sea came aboard of us,washing away the captain, so that we filled and settled down to founder.

Then began a most horrid scene. For several days both the crew and passengershad been drinking heavily to allay their terror, and now that they saw theirend at hand, they rushed to and fro screaming, praying, and blaspheming. Suchof them as remained sober began to get out the two boats, into which I andanother man, a worthy priest, strove to place the women and children, of whomwe had several on board. But this was no easy task, for the drunken sailorspushed them aside and tried to spring into the boats, the first of whichoverturned, so that all were lost. Just then the carakgave a lurchbefore she sank, and, seeing that everything was over, I called to the priestto follow me, and springing into the sea I swam for the second boat, which,laden with some shrieking women, had drifted loose in the confusion. As itchanced I reached it safely, being a strong swimmer, and was able to rescue thepriest before he sank. Then the vessel reared herself up on her stern andfloated thus for a minute or more, which gave us time to get out the oars androw some fathoms further away from her. Scarcely had we done so, when, with onewild and fearful scream from those on board of her, she rushed down into thedepths below, nearly taking us with her. For a while we sat silent, for ourhorror overwhelmed us, but when the whirlpool which she made had ceased toboil, we rowed back to where the carakhad been. Now all the sea wasstrewn with wreckage, but among it we found only one child living that hadclung to an oar. The rest, some two hundred souls, had been sucked down withthe ship and perished miserably, or if there were any still living, we couldnot find them in that weltering sea over which the darkness was falling.

Indeed, it was well for our own safety that we failed in so doing, for thelittle boat had ten souls on board in all, which was as many as she couldcarry—the priest and I being the only men among them. I have said thatthe darkness was falling, and as it chanced happily for us, so was the sea, orassuredly we must have been swamped. All that we could do was to keep theboat’s head straight to the waves, and this we did through the longnight. It was a strange thing to see, or rather to hear, that good man thepriest my companion, confessing the women one by one as he laboured at his oar,and when all were shriven sending up prayers to God for the salvation of oursouls, for of the safety of our bodies we despaired. What I felt may well beimagined, but I forbear to describe it, seeing that, bad as was my case, therewere worse ones before me of which I shall have to tell in their season.

At length the night wore away, and the dawn broke upon the desolate sea.Presently the sun came up, for which at first we were thankful, for we werechilled to the bone, but soon its heat grew intolerable, since we had neitherfood nor water in the boat, and already we were parched with thirst. But nowthe wind had fallen to a steady breeze, and with the help of the oars and ablanket, we contrived to fashion a sail that drew us through the water at agood speed. But the ocean was vast, and we did not know whither we weresailing, and every hour the agony of thirst pressed us more closely. Towardsmid-day a child died suddenly and was thrown into the sea, and some three hourslater the mother filled a bailing bowl and drank deep of the bitter water. Fora while it seemed to assuage her thirst, then suddenly a madness took her, andspringing up she cast herself overboard and sank. Before the sun, glowing likea red-hot ball, had sunk beneath the horizon, the priest and I were the onlyones in that company who could sit upright—the rest lay upon the bottomof the boat heaped one on another like dying fish groaning in their misery.Night fell at last and brought us some relief from our sufferings, for the airgrew cooler. But the rain we prayed for did not fall, and so great was the heatthat, when the sun rose again in a cloudless sky, we knew, if no help reachedus, that it must be the last which we should see.

An hour after dawn another child died, and as we were in the act of casting thebody into the sea, I looked up and saw a vessel far away, that seemed to besailing in such fashion that she would pass within two miles of where we were.Returning thanks to God for this most blessed sight, we took to the oars, forthe wind was now so light that our clumsy sail would no longer draw us throughthe water, and rowed feebly so as to cut the path of the ship. When we hadlaboured for more than an hour the wind fell altogether and the vessel laybecalmed at a distance of about three miles. So the priest and I rowed on tillI thought that we must die in the boat, for the heat of the sun was like thatof a flame and there came no wind to temper it; by now, too, our lips werecracked with thirst. Still we struggled on till the shadow of the ship’smasts fell athwart us and we saw her sailors watching us from the deck. Now wewere alongside and they let down a ladder of rope, speaking to us in Spanish.

How we reached the deck I cannot say, but I remember falling beneath the shadeof an awning and drinking cup after cup of the water that was brought to me. Atlast even my thirst was satisfied, and for a while I grew faint and dizzy, andhad no stomach for the meat which was thrust into my hand. Indeed, I think thatI must have fainted, for when I came to myself the sun was straight overhead,and it seemed to me that I had dreamed I heard a familiar and hateful voice. Atthe time I was alone beneath the awning, for the crew of the ship were gatheredon the foredeck clustering round what appeared to be the body of a man. By myside was a large plate of victuals and a flask of spirits, and feeling strongerI ate and drank of them heartily. I had scarcely finished my meal when the menon the foredeck lifted the body of the man, which I saw was black in colour,and cast it overboard. Then three of them, whom from their port I took to beofficers, came towards me and I rose to my feet to meet them.

“Señor,” said the tallest of them in a soft and gentle voice,“suffer me to offer you our felicitations on your wonderful—”and he stopped suddenly.

Did I still dream, or did I know the voice? Now for the first time I could seethe man’s face—it was that of Juan de Garcia!But if I knewhim he also knew me.

“Caramba!” he said, “whom have we here? Señor ThomasWingfield I salute you. Look, my comrades, you see this young man whom the seahas brought to us. He is no Spaniard but an English spy. The last time that Isaw him was in the streets of Seville, and there he tried to murder me becauseI threatened to reveal his trade to the authorities. Now he is here, upon whaterrand he knows best.”

“It is false,” I answered; “I am no spy, and I am come tothese seas for one purpose only—to find you.”

“Then you have succeeded well, too well for your own comfort, perhaps.Say now, do you deny that you are Thomas Wingfield and an Englishman?”

“I do not deny it. I—”

“Your pardon. How comes it then that, as your companion the priest tellsme, you sailed in Las Cinque Llagasunder the name ofd’Aila?”

“For my own reasons, Juan de Garcia.”

“You are confused, señor. My name is Sarceda, as these gentlemen can bearme witness. Once I knew a cavalier of the name of de Garcia, but he isdead.”

“You lie,” I answered; whereon one of De Garcia’s companionsstruck me across the mouth.

“Gently, friend,” said de Garcia; “do not defile your hand bystriking such rats as this, or if you must strike, use a stick. You have heardthat he confesses to passing under a false name and to being an Englishman, andtherefore one of our country’s foes. To this I add upon my word of honourthat to my knowledge he is a spy and a would-be murderer. Now, gentlemen, underthe commission of his majesty’s representative, we are judges here, butsince you may think that, having been called a liar openly by this English dog,I might be minded to deal unjustly with him, I prefer to leave the matter inyour hands.”

Now I tried to speak once more, but the Spaniard who had struck me, aferocious-looking villain, drew his sword and swore that he would run methrough if I dared to open my lips. So I thought it well to keep silent.

“This Englishman would grace a yardarm very well,” he said.

De Garcia, who had begun to hum a tune indifferently, smiled, looking first atthe yard and then at my neck, and the hate in his eyes seemed to burn me.

“I have a better thought than that,” said the third officer.“If we hung him questions might be asked, and at the least, it would be awaste of good money. He is a finely built young man and would last some yearsin the mines. Let him be sold with the rest of the cargo, or I will take himmyself at a valuation. I am in want of a few such on my estate.”

At these words I saw de Garcia’s face fall a little, for he wished to berid of me for ever. Still he did not think it politic to interfere beyondsaying with a slight yawn:

“So far as I am concerned, take him, comrade, and free of cost. Only Iwarn you, watch him well or you will find a stiletto in your back.”

The officer laughed and said: “Our friend will scarcely get a chance atme, for I do not go a hundred paces underground, where he will find hisquarters. And now, Englishman, there is room for you below I think;” andhe called to a sailor bidding him bring the irons of the man who had died.

This was done, and after I had been searched and a small sum in gold that I hadupon my person taken from me—it was all that remained to me of mypossessions—fetters were placed upon my ankles and round my neck, and Iwas dragged into the hold. Before I reached it I knew from various signs whatwas the cargo of this ship. She was laden with slaves captured in Fernandina,as the Spaniards name the island of Cuba, that were to be sold in Hispaniola.Among these slaves I was now numbered.

How to tell the horrors of that hold I know not. The place was low, not morethan seven feet in height, and the slaves lay ironed in the bilge water on thebottom of the vessel. They were crowded as thick as they could lie, beingchained to rings fixed in the sides of the ship. Altogether there may have beentwo hundred of them, men, women and children, or rather there had been twohundred when the ship sailed a week before. Now some twenty were dead, whichwas a small number, since the Spaniards reckon to lose from a third to half oftheir cargo in this devilish traffic. When I entered the place a deadlysickness seized me, weak as I was, brought on by the horrible sounds andsmells, and the sights that I saw in the flare of the lanterns which myconductors carried, for the hold was shut off from light and air. But theydragged me along and presently I found myself chained in the midst of a line ofblack men and women, many feet resting in the bilge water. There the Spaniardsleft me with a jeer, saying that this was too good a bed for an Englishman tolie on. For a while I endured, then sleep or insensibility came to my succour,and I sank into oblivion, and so I must have remained for a day and a night.

When I awoke it was to find the Spaniard to whom I had been sold or given,standing near me with a lantern and directing the removal of the fetters from awoman who was chained next to me. She was dead, and in the light of the lanternI could see that she had been carried off by some horrible disease that was newto me, but which I afterwards learned to know by the name of the Black Vomit.Nor was she the only one, for I counted twenty dead who were dragged out insuccession, and I could see that many more were sick. Also I saw that theSpaniards were not a little frightened, for they could make nothing of thissickness, and strove to lessen it by cleansing the hold and letting air into itby the removal of some planks in the deck above. Had they not done this Ibelieve that every soul of us must have perished, and I set down my own escapefrom the sickness to the fact that the largest opening in the deck was madedirectly above my head, so that by standing up, which my chains allowed me todo, I could breathe air that was almost pure.

Having distributed water and meal cakes, the Spaniards went away. I drankgreedily of the water, but the cakes I could not eat, for they were mouldy. Thesights and sounds around me were so awful that I will not try to write of them.

And all the while we sweltered in the terrible heat, for the sun piercedthrough the deck planking of the vessel, and I could feel by her lack of motionthat we were becalmed and drifting. I stood up, and by resting my heels upon arib of the ship and my back against her side, I found myself in a positionwhence I could see the feet of the passers-by on the deck above.

Presently I saw that one of these wore a priest’s robe, and guessing thathe must be my companion with whom I had escaped, I strove to attract hisnotice, and at length succeeded. So soon as he knew who it was beneath him, thepriest lay down on the deck as though to rest himself, and we spoke together.He told me, as I had guessed, that we were becalmed and that a great sicknesshad taken hold of the ship, already laying low a third of the crew, adding thatit was a judgment from heaven because of their cruelty and wickedness.

To this I answered that the judgment was working on the captives as well as onthe captors, and asked him where was Sarceda, as they named de Garcia. Then Ilearned that he had been taken sick that morning, and I rejoiced at the news,for if I had hated him before, it may be judged how deeply I hated him now.Presently the priest left me and returned with water mixed with the juice oflimes, that tasted to me like nectar from the gods, and some good meat andfruit. These he gave me through the hole in the planks, and I made shift toseize them in my manacled hands and devoured them. After this he went away, tomy great chagrin; why, I did not discover till the following morning.

That day passed and the long night passed, and when at length the Spaniardsvisited the hold once more, there were forty bodies to be dragged out of it,and many others were sick. After they had gone I stood up, watching for myfriend the priest, but he did not come then, nor ever again.

CHAPTER XII
THOMAS COMES TO SHORE

For an hour or more I stood thus craning my neck upwards to seek for thepriest. At length when I was about to sink back into the hold, for I couldstand no longer in that cramped posture, I saw a woman’s dress pass bythe hole in the deck, and knew it for one that was worn by a lady who hadescaped with me in the boat.

“Señora,” I whispered, “for the love of God listen to me. Itis I, d’Aila, who am chained down here among the slaves.”

She started, then as the priest had done, she sat herself down upon the deck,and I told her of my dreadful plight, not knowing that she was acquainted withit, and of the horrors below.

“Alas! señor,” she answered, “they can be little worse thanthose above. A dreadful sickness is raging among the crew, six are already deadand many more are raving in their last madness. I would that the sea hadswallowed us with the rest, for we have been rescued from it only to fall intohell. Already my mother is dead and my little brother is dying.”

“Where is the priest?” I asked.

“He died this morning and has just been cast into the sea. Before he diedhe spoke of you, and prayed me to help you if I could. But his words were wildand I thought that he might be distraught. And indeed how can I helpyou?”

“Perhaps you can find me food and drink,” I answered, “andfor our friend, God rest his soul. What of the Captain Sarceda? Is he alsodead?”

“No, señor, he alone is recovering of all whom the scourge has smitten.And now I must go to my brother, but first I will seek food for you.”

She went and presently returned with meat and a flask of wine which she hadhidden beneath her dress, and I ate and blessed her.

For two days she fed me thus, bringing me food at night. On the second nightshe told me that her brother was dead and of all the crew only fifteen men andone officer remained untouched by the sickness, and that she herself grew ill.Also she said that the water was almost finished, and there was little foodleft for the slaves. After this she came no more, and I suppose that she diedalso.

It was within twenty hours of her last visit that I left this accursed ship.For a day none had come to feed or tend the slaves, and indeed many needed notending, for they were dead. Some still lived however, though so far as I couldsee the most of them were smitten with the plague. I myself had escaped thesickness, perhaps because of the strength and natural healthiness of my body,which has always saved me from fevers and diseases, fortified as it was by thegood food that I had obtained. But now I knew that I could not live long,indeed chained in this dreadful charnel-house I prayed for death to release mefrom the horrors of such existence. The day passed as before in swelteringheat, unbroken by any air or motion, and night came at last, made hideous bythe barbarous ravings of the dying. But even there and then I slept and dreamedthat I was walking with my love in the vale of Waveney.

Towards the morning I was awakened by a sound of clanking iron, and opening myeyes, I saw that men were at work, by the light of lanterns, knocking thefetters from the dead and the living together. As the fetters were loosed arope was put round the body of the slave, and dead or quick, he was hauledthrough the hatchway. Presently a heavy splash in the water without told therest of the tale. Now I understood that all the slaves were being thrownoverboard because of the want of water, and in the hope that it might avail tosave from the pestilence those of the Spaniards who still remained alive.

I watched them at their work for a while till there were but two slaves betweenme and the workers, of whom one was living and the other dead. Then I bethoughtme that this would be my fate also, to be cast quick into the sea, and tookcounsel with myself as to whether I should declare that I was whole from theplague and pray them to spare me, or whether I should suffer myself to bedrowned. The desire for life was strong, but perhaps it may serve to show howgreat were the torments from which I was suffering, and how broken was myspirit by misfortunes and the horrors around me, when I say that I determinedto make no further effort to live, but rather to accept death as a mercifulrelease. And, indeed, I knew that there was little likelihood of such attemptsbeing of avail, for I saw that the Spanish sailors were mad with fear and hadbut one desire, to be rid of the slaves who consumed the water, and as theybelieved, had bred the pestilence. So I said such prayers as came into my head,and although with a great shivering of fear, for the poor flesh shrinks fromits end and the unknown beyond it, however high may be the spirit, I preparedmyself to die.

Now, having dragged away my neighbour in misery, the living savage, the menturned to me. They were naked to the middle, and worked furiously to be donewith their hateful task, sweating with the heat, and keeping themselves fromfainting by draughts of spirit.

“This one is alive also and does not seem so sick,” said a man ashe struck the fetters from me.

“Alive or dead, away with the dog!” answered another hoarsely, andI saw that it was the same officer to whom I had been given as a slave.“It is that Englishman, and he it is who brought us ill luck. Cast theJonah overboard and let him try his evil eye upon the sharks.”

“So be it,” answered the other man, and finished striking off myfetters. “Those who have come to a cup of water each a day, do not presstheir guests to share it. They show them the door. Say your prayers,Englishman, and may they do you more good than they have done for most on thisaccursed ship. Here, this is the stuff to make drowning easy, and there is moreof it on board than of water,” and he handed me the flask of spirit. Itook it and drank deep, and it comforted me a little. Then they put the roperound me and at a signal those on the deck above began to haul till I swungloose beneath the hatchway. As I passed that Spaniard to whom I had been givenin slavery, and who but now had counselled my casting away, I saw his face wellin the light of the lantern, and there were signs on it that a physician couldread clearly.

“Farewell,” I said to him, “we may soon meet again. Fool, whydo you labour? Take your rest, for the plague is on you. In six hours you willbe dead!”

His jaw dropped with terror at my words, and for a moment he stood speechless.Then he uttered a fearful oath and aimed a blow at me with the hammer he held,which would swiftly have put an end to my sufferings had I not at that momentbeen lifted from his reach by those who pulled above.

In another second I had fallen on the deck as they slacked the rope. Near mestood two black men whose office it was to cast us poor wretches into the sea,and behind them, seated in a chair, his face haggard from recent illness, satde Garcia fanning himself with his sombrero, for the night was very hot.

He recognised me at once in the moonlight, which was brilliant, and said,“What! are you here and still alive, Cousin? You are tough indeed; Ithought that you must be dead or dying. Indeed had it not been for thisaccursed plague, I would have seen to it myself. Well, it has come right atlast, and here is the only lucky thing in all this voyage, that I shall havethe pleasure of sending you to the sharks. It consoles me for much, friendWingfield. So you came across the seas to seek vengeance on me? Well, I hopethat your stay has been pleasant. The accommodation was a little poor, but atleast the welcome was hearty. And now it is time to speed the parting guest.Good night, Thomas Wingfield; if you should chance to meet your motherpresently, tell her from me that I was grieved to have to kill her, for she isthe one being whom I have loved. I did not come to murder her as you may havethought, but she forced me to it to save myself, since had I not done so, Ishould never have lived to return to Spain. She had too much of my own blood tosuffer me to escape, and it seems that it runs strong in your veins also, elseyou would scarcely hold so fast by vengeance. Well, it has not prosperedyou!” And he dropped back into the chair and fell to fanning himselfagain with the broad hat.

Even then, as I stood upon the eve of death, I felt my blood run hot within meat the sting of his coarse taunts. Truly de Garcia’s triumph wascomplete. I had come to hunt him down, and what was the end of it? He was aboutto hurl me to the sharks. Still I answered him with such dignity as I couldcommand.

“You have me at some disadvantage,” I said. “Now if there isany manhood left in you, give me a sword and let us settle our quarrel once andfor all. You are weak from sickness I know, but what am I who have spentcertain days and nights in this hell of yours. We should be well matched, deGarcia.”

“Perhaps so, Cousin, but where is the need? To be frank, things have notgone over well with me when we stood face to face before, and it is odd, but doyou know, I have been troubled with a foreboding that you would be the end ofme. That is one of the reasons why I sought a change of air to these warmerregions. But see the folly of forebodings, my friend. I am still alive, thoughI have been ill, and I mean to go on living, but you are—forgive me formentioning it—you are already dead. Indeed those gentlemen,” and hepointed to the two black men who were taking advantage of our talk to throwinto the sea the slave who followed me up the hatchway, “are waiting toput a stop to our conversation. Have you any message that I can deliver foryou? If so, out with it, for time is short and that hold must be cleared bydaybreak.”

“I have no message to give you from myself, though I have a message foryou, de Garcia,” I answered. “But before I tell it, let me say aword. You seem to have won, wicked murderer as you are, but perhaps the game isnot yet played. Your fears may still come true. I am dead, but my vengeance mayyet live on, for I leave it to the Hand in which I should have left it atfirst. You may live some years longer, but do you think that you shall escape?One day you will die as surely as I must die to-night, and what then, deGarcia?”

“A truce, I pray you,” he said with a sneer. “Surely you havenot been consecrated priest. You had a message, you said. Pray deliver itquickly. Time presses, Cousin Wingfield. Who sends messages to an exile likemyself?”

“Isabella de Siguenza, whom you cheated with a false marriage andabandoned,” I said.

He started from his chair and stood over me.

“What of her?” he whispered fiercely.

“Only this, the monks walled her up alive with her babe.”

“Walled her up alive! Mother of God! how do you know that?”

“I chanced to see it done, that is all. She prayed me to tell you of herend and the child’s, and that she died hiding your name, loving andforgiving. This was all her message, but I will add to it. May she haunt youfor ever, she and my mother; may they haunt you through life and death, throughearth and hell.”

He covered his face with his hands for a moment, then dropping them sank backinto the chair and called to the black sailors.

“Away with this slave. Why are you so slow?”

The men advanced upon me, but I was not minded to be handled by them if I couldhelp it, and I was minded to cause de Garcia to share my fate. Suddenly Ibounded at him, and gripping him round the middle, I dragged him from hischair. Such was the strength that rage and despair gave to me that I succeededin swinging him up to the level of the bulwarks. But there the matter ended,for at that moment the two black sailors sprang upon us both, and tore him frommy grip. Then seeing that all was lost, for they were about to cut me down withtheir swords, I placed my hand upon the bulwark and leaped into the sea.

My reason told me that I should do well to drown as quickly as possible, and Ithought to myself that I would not try to swim, but would sink at once. Yetlove of life was too strong for me, and so soon as I touched the water, Istruck out and began to swim along the side of the ship, keeping myself in hershadow, for I feared lest de Garcia should cause me to be shot at with arrowsand musket balls. Presently as I went I heard him say with an oath:

“He has gone, and for good this time, but my foreboding went near tocoming true after all. Bah! how the sight of that man frightens me.”

Now I knew in my heart that I was doing a mad thing, for though if no sharktook me, I might float for six or eight hours in this warm water yet I mustsink at last, and what would my struggle have profited me? Still I swam onslowly, and after the filth and stench of the slave hold, the touch of theclean water and the breath of the pure air were like food and wine to me, and Ifelt strength enter into me as I went. By this time I was a hundred yards ormore from the ship, and though those on board could scarcely have seen me, Icould still hear the splash of the bodies, as the slaves were flung from her,and the drowning cries of such among them as still lived.

I lifted my head and looked round the waste of water, and seeing somethingfloating on it at a distance, I swam towards it, expecting that every momentwould be my last, because of the sharks which abound in these seas. Soon I wasnear it, and to my joy I perceived that it was a large barrel, which had beenthrown from the ship, and was floating upright in the water. I reached it, andpushing at it from below, contrived to tilt it so that I caught its upper edgewith my hand. Then I saw that it was half full of meal cakes, and that it hadbeen cast away because the meal was stinking. It was the weight of these rottencakes acting as ballast, that caused the tub to float upright in the water. NowI bethought me, that if I could get into this barrel I should be safe from thesharks for a while, but how to do it I did not know.

While I wondered, chancing to glance behind me, I saw the fin of a sharkstanding above the water not twenty paces away, and advancing rapidly towardsme. Then terror seized me and gave me strength and the wit of despair. Pullingdown the edge of the barrel till the water began to pour into it, I seized iton either side with my hands, and lifting my weight upon them, I doubled myknees. To this hour I cannot tell how I accomplished it, but the next second Iwas in the cask, with no other hurt than a scraped shin. But though I had founda boat, the boat itself was like to sink, for what with my weight and that ofthe rotten meal, and of the water which had poured over the rim, the edge ofthe barrel was not now an inch above the level of the sea, and I knew that didanother bucketful come aboard, it would no longer bear me. At that moment alsoI saw the fin of the shark within four yards, and then felt the barrel shake asthe fish struck it with his nose.

Now I began to bail furiously with my hands, and as I bailed, the edge of thecask lifted itself above the water. When it had risen some two inches, theshark, enraged at my escape, came to the surface, and turning on its side, bitat the tub so that I heard its teeth grate on the wood and iron bands, causingit to heel over and to spin round, shipping more water as it heeled. Now I mustbail afresh, and had the fish renewed its onset, I should have been lost. Butnot finding wood and iron to its taste, it went away for a while, although Isaw its fin from time to time for the space of some hours. I bailed with myhands till I could lift the water no longer, then making shift to take off myboot, I bailed with that. Soon the edge of the cask stood twelve inches abovethe water, and I did not lighten it further, fearing lest it should overturn.Now I had time to rest and to remember that all this was of no avail, since Imust die at last either by the sea or because of thirst, and I lamented that mycowardice had only sufficed to prolong my sufferings.

Then I prayed to God to succour me, and never did I pray more heartily than inthat hour, and when I had finished praying some sort of peace and hope fellupon me. I thought it marvellous that I should thus have escaped thrice fromgreat perils within the space of a few days, first from the sinkingcarak, then from pestilence and starvation in the hold of theslave-ship, and now, if only for a while, from the cruel jaws of the sharks. Itseemed to me that I had not been preserved from dangers which proved fatal toso many, only that I might perish miserably at last, and even in my despair Ibegan to hope when hope was folly; though whether this relief was sent to mefrom above, or whether it was simply that being so much alive at the moment Icould not believe that I should soon be dead, is not for me to say.

At the least my courage rose again, and I could even find heart to note thebeauty of the night. The sea was smooth as a pond, there was no breath of wind,and now that the moon began to sink, thousands of stars of a marvellousbrightness, such as we do not see in England, gemmed the heavens everywhere. Atlast these grew pale, and dawn began to flush the east, and after it came thefirst rays of sunlight. But now I could not see fifty yards around me, becauseof a dense mist that gathered on the face of the quiet water, and hung therefor an hour or more. When the sun was well up and at length the mist clearedaway, I perceived that I had drifted far from the ship, of which I could onlysee the masts that grew ever fainter till they vanished. Now the surface of thesea was clear of fog except in one direction, where it hung in a thick bank ofvapour, though why it should rest there and nowhere else, I could notunderstand.

Then the sun grew hot, and my sufferings commenced, for except the draught ofspirits that had been given me in the hold of the slave-ship, I had touched nodrink for a day and a night. I will not tell them all in particular detail, itis enough to say that those can scarcely imagine them who have never stood forhour after hour in a barrel, bare-headed and parched with thirst, while thefierce heat of a tropical sun beat down on them from above, and was reflectedupward from the glassy surface of the water. In time, indeed, I grew faint anddizzy, and could hardly save myself from falling into the sea, and at last Isank into a sort of sleep or insensibility, from which I was awakened by asound of screaming birds and of falling water. I looked and saw to my wonderand delight, that what I had taken to be a bank of mist was really low-lyingland, and that I was drifting rapidly with the tide towards the bar of a largeriver. The sound of birds came from great flocks of sea-gulls that were preyingon the shoals of fish, which fed at the meeting of the fresh and salt water.Presently, as I watched, a gull seized a fish that could not have weighed lessthan three pounds, and strove to lift it from the sea. Failing in this, it beatthe fish on the head with its beak till it died, and had begun to devour it,when I drifted down upon the spot and made haste to seize the fish. In anothermoment, dreadful as it may seem, I was devouring the food raw, and never have Ieaten with better appetite, or found more refreshment in a meal.

When I had swallowed all that I was able, without drinking water, I put therest of the fish into the pocket of my coat, and turned my thoughts to thebreakers on the bar. Soon it was evident to me that I could not pass themstanding in my barrel, so I hastened to upset myself into the water and toclimb astride of it. Presently we were in the surf, and I had much ado to clingon, but the tide bore me forward bravely, and in half an hour more the breakerswere past, and I was in the mouth of the great river. Now fortune favoured mestill further, for I found a piece of wood floating on the stream which servedme for a paddle, and by its help I was enabled to steer my craft towards theshore, that as I went I perceived to be clothed with thick reeds, in which talland lovely trees grew in groups, bearing clusters of large nuts in theircrowns. Hither to this shore I came without further accident, having spent someten hours in my tub, though it was but a chance that I did so, because of thehorrible reptiles called crocodiles, or, by some, alligators, with which thisriver swarmed. But of them I knew nothing as yet.

I reached land but just in time, for before I was ashore the tide turned, andtide and current began to carry me out to sea again, whence assuredly I hadnever come back. Indeed, for the last ten minutes, it took all the strengththat I had to force the barrel along towards the bank. At length, however, Iperceived that it floated in not more than four feet of water, and sliding fromit, I waded to the bank and cast myself at length there to rest and thank Godwho thus far had preserved me miraculously. But my thirst, which now returnedupon me more fiercely than ever, would not suffer me to lie thus for long, so Istaggered to my feet and walked along the bank of the river till I came to apool of rain water, which on the tasting, proved to be sweet and good. Then Idrank, weeping for joy at the taste of the water, drank till I could drink nomore, and let those who have stood in such a plight remember what water was tothem, for no words of mine can tell it. After I had drunk and washed the brinefrom my face and body, I drew out the remainder of my fish and ate itthankfully, and thus refreshed, cast myself down to sleep in the shade of abush bearing white flowers, for I was utterly outworn.

When I opened my eyes again it was night, and doubtless I should have slept onthrough many hours more had it not been for a dreadful itch and pain that tookme in every part, till at length I sprang up and cursed in my agony. At first Iwas at a loss to know what occasioned this torment, till I perceived that theair was alive with gnat-like insects which made a singing noise, and thensettling on my flesh, sucked blood and spat poison into the wound at one andthe same time. These dreadful insects the Spaniards name mosquitoes. Norwere they the only flies, for hundreds of other creatures, no bigger than apin’s head, had fastened on to me like bulldogs to a baited bear, boringtheir heads into the flesh, where in the end they cause festers. They are namedgarrapatasby the Spanish, and I take them to be the young of the tic.Others there were, also, too numerous to mention, and of every shape and size,though they had this in common, all bit and all were venomous. Before themorning these plagues had driven me almost to madness, for in no way could Iobtain relief from them. Towards dawn I went and lay in the water, thinking tolessen my sufferings, but before I had been there ten minutes I saw a hugecrocodile rise up from the mud beside me. I sprang away to the bank horriblyafraid, for never before had I beheld so monstrous and evil-looking a brute, tofall again into the clutches of the creatures, winged and crawling, that werewaiting for me there by myriads.

But enough of these damnable insects!

CHAPTER XIII
THE STONE OF SACRIFICE

At length the morning broke and found me in a sorry plight, for my face wasswollen to the size of a pumpkin by the venom of the mosquitoes, and the restof my body was in little better case. Moreover I could not keep myself stillbecause of the itching, but must run and jump like a madman. And where was I torun to through this huge swamp, in which I could see no shelter or sign of man?I could not guess, so since I must keep moving I followed the bank of theriver, as I walked disturbing many crocodiles and loathsome snakes. Now I knewthat I could not live long in such suffering, and determined to struggleforward till I fell down insensible and death put an end to my torments.

For an hour or more I went on thus till I came to a place that was clear ofbush and reeds. Across this I skipped and danced, striking with my swollenhands at the gnats which buzzed about my head. Now the end was not far off, forI was exhausted and near to falling, when suddenly I came upon a party of men,brown in colour and clothed with white garments, who had been fishing in theriver. By them on the water were several canoes in which were loads ofmerchandise, and they were now engaged in eating. So soon as these men caughtsight of me they uttered exclamations in an unknown tongue and seizing weaponsthat lay by them, bows and arrows and wooden clubs set on either side withspikes of flinty glass, they made towards me as though to kill me. Now I liftedup my hands praying for mercy, and seeing that I was unarmed and helpless themen laid down their arms and addressed me. I shook my head to show that I couldnot understand, and pointed first to the sea and then to my swollen features.They nodded, and going to one of the canoes a man brought from it a paste of abrown colour and aromatic smell. Then by signs he directed me to remove suchgarments as remained on me, the fashion of which seemed to puzzle them greatly.This being done, they proceeded to anoint my body with the paste, the touch ofwhich gave me a most blessed relief from my intolerable itching and burning,and moreover rendered my flesh distasteful to the insects, for after that theyplagued me little.

When I was anointed they offered me food, fried fish and cakes of meal,together with a most delicious hot drink covered with a brown and foaming froththat I learned to know afterwards as chocolate. When I had finishedeating, having talked a while together in low tones, they motioned me to enterone of the canoes, giving me mats to lie on. I obeyed, and three other men camewith me, for the canoe was large. One of these, a very grave man with a gentleface and manner whom I took to be the chief of the party, sat down opposite tome, the other two placing themselves in the bow and stern of the boat whichthey drove along by means of paddles. Then we started, followed by three othercanoes, and before we had gone a mile utter weariness overpowered me and I fellasleep.

I awoke much refreshed, having slept many hours, for now the sun was setting,and was astonished to find the grave-looking man my companion in the canoe,keeping watch over my sleep and warding the gnats from me with a leafy branch.His kindness seemed to show that I was in no danger of ill-treatment, and myfears on that point being set at rest, I began to wonder as to what strangeland I had come and who its people might be. Soon, however, I gave over, havingnothing to build on, and observed the scenery instead. Now we were paddling upa smaller river than the one on the banks of which I had been cast away, andwere no longer in the midst of marshes. On either side of us was open land, orrather land that would have been open had it not been for the great trees,larger than the largest oak, which grew upon it, some of them of surpassingbeauty. Up these trees climbed creepers that hung like ropes even from thetopmost boughs, and among them were many strange and gorgeous flowering plantsthat seemed to cling to the bark as moss clings to a wall. In their branchesalso sat harsh-voiced birds of brilliant colours, and apes that barked andchattered at us as we went.

Just as the sun set over all this strange new scene the canoes came to alanding place built of timber, and we disembarked. Now it grew dark suddenly,and all I could discover was that I was being led along a good road. Presentlywe reached a gate, which, from the barking of dogs and the numbers of peoplewho thronged about it, I judged to be the entrance to a town, and passing it,we advanced down a long street with houses on either side. At the doorway ofthe last house my companion halted, and taking me by the hand, led me into along low room lit with lamps of earthenware. Here some women came forward andkissed him, while others whom I took to be servants, saluted him by touchingthe floor with one hand. Soon, however, all eyes were turned on me and manyeager questions were asked of the chief, of which I could only guess thepurport.

When all had gazed their fill supper was served, a rich meal of many strangemeats, and of this I was invited to partake, which I did, seated on a mat andeating of the dishes that were placed upon the ground by the women. Among theseI noticed one girl who far surpassed all the others in grace, though none wereunpleasing to the eye. She was dark, indeed, but her features were regular andher eyes fine. Her figure was tall and straight, and the sweetness of her faceadded to the charm of her beauty. I mention this girl here for two reasons,first because she saved me once from sacrifice and once from torture, andsecondly because she was none other than that woman who afterwards became knownas Marina, the mistress of Cortes, without whose aid he had never conqueredMexico. But at this time she did not guess that it was her destiny to bring hercountry of Anahuac beneath the cruel yoke of the Spaniard.

From the moment of my entry I saw that Marina, as I will call her, for herIndian name is too long to be written, took pity on my forlorn state, and didwhat lay in her power to protect me from vulgar curiosity and to minister to mywants. It was she who brought me water to wash in, and a clean robe of linen toreplace my foul and tattered garments, and a cloak fashioned of bright feathersfor my shoulders.

When supper was done a mat was given me to sleep on in a little room apart, andhere I lay down, thinking that though I might be lost for ever to my own world,at least I had fallen among a people who were gentle and kindly, and moreover,as I saw from many tokens, no savages. One thing, however, disturbed me; Idiscovered that though I was well treated, also I was a prisoner, for a manarmed with a copper spear slept across the doorway of my little room. Before Ilay down I looked through the wooden bars which served as a protection to thewindow place, and saw that the house stood upon the border of a large openspace, in the midst of which a great pyramid towered a hundred feet or moreinto the air. On the top of this pyramid was a building of stone that I took tobe a temple, and rightly, in front of which a fire burned. Marvelling what thepurpose of this great work might be, and in honour of what faith it waserected, I went to sleep.

On the morrow I was to learn.

Here it may be convenient for me to state, what I did not discover tillafterwards, that I was in the city of Tobasco, the capital of one of thesouthern provinces of Anahuac, which is situated at a distance of some hundredsof miles from the central city of Tenoctitlan, or Mexico. The river where I hadbeen cast away was the Rio de Tobasco, where Cortes landed in the followingyear, and my host, or rather my captor, was the caciqueor chief ofTobasco, the same man who subsequently presented Marina to Cortes. Thus it cameabout that, with the exception of a certain Aguilar, who with some companionswas wrecked on the coast of Yucatan six years before, I was the first white manwho ever dwelt among the Indians. This Aguilar was rescued by Cortes, thoughhis companions were all sacrificed to Huitzel, the horrible war-god of thecountry. But the name of the Spaniards was already known to the Indians, wholooked on them with superstitious fear, for in the year previous to my beingcast away, the hidalgo Hernandez de Cordova had visited the coast of Yucatanand fought several battles with the natives, and earlier in the same year of myarrival, Juan de Grigalva had come to this very river of Tobasco. Thus it cameabout that I was set down as one of this strange new nation of Teules, as theIndians named the Spaniards, and therefore as an enemy for whose blood the godswere thirsting.

I awoke at dawn much refreshed with sleep, and having washed and clothed myselfin the linen robes that were provided for me, I came into the large room, wherefood was given me. Scarcely had I finished my meal when my captor, thecacique, entered, accompanied by two men whose appearance struck terrorto my heart. In countenance they were fierce and horrible; they wore blackrobes embroidered with mystic characters in red, and their long and tangledhair was matted together with some strange substance. These men, whom allpresent, including the chief or cacique, seemed to look on with theutmost reverence, glared at me with a fierce glee that made my blood run cold.One of them, indeed, tore open my white robe and placed his filthy hand upon myheart, which beat quickly enough, counting its throbs aloud while the othernodded at his words. Afterwards I learned that he was saying that I was verystrong.

Glancing round to find the interpretation of this act upon the faces of thoseabout me, my eyes caught those of the girl Marina, and there was that in themwhich left me in little doubt. Horror and pity were written there, and I knewthat some dreadful death overshadowed me. Before I could do anything, before Icould even think, I was seized by the priests, or pabasas the Indiansname them, and dragged from the room, all the household following us exceptMarina and the cacique. Now I found myself in a great square or marketplace bordered by many fine houses of stone and lime, and some of mud, whichwas filling rapidly with a vast number of people, men women and children, whoall stared at me as I went towards the pyramid on the top of which the fireburned. At the foot of this pyramid I was led into a little chamber hollowed inits thickness, and here my dress was torn from me by more priests, leaving menaked except for a cloth about my loins and a chaplet of bright flowers whichwas set upon my head. In this chamber were three other men, Indians, who fromthe horror on their faces I judged to be also doomed to death.

Presently a drum began to beat high above us, and we were taken from thechamber and placed in a procession of many priests, I being the first among thevictims. Then the priests set up a chant and we began the ascent of thepyramid, following a road that wound round and round its bulk till it ended ona platform at its summit, which may have measured forty paces in the square.Hence the view of the surrounding country was very fine, but in that hour Iscarcely noticed it, having no care for prospects, however pleasing. On thefurther side of the platform were two wooden towers fifty feet or so in height.These were the temples of the gods, Huitzel God of War and Quetzal God of theAir, whose hideous effigies carved in stone grinned at us through the opendoorways. In the chambers of these temples stood small altars, and on thealtars were large dishes of gold, containing the hearts of those who had beensacrificed on the yesterday. These chambers, moreover, were encrusted withevery sort of filth. In front of the temples stood the altar whereon the fireburned eternally, and before it were a hog-backed block of black marble of thesize of an inn drinking table, and a great carven stone shaped like a wheel,measuring some ten feet across with a copper ring in its centre.

All these things I remembered afterwards, though at the time I scarcely seemedto see them, for hardly were we arrived on the platform when I was seized anddragged to the wheel-shaped stone. Here a hide girdle was put round my waistand secured to the ring by a rope long enough to enable me to run to the edgeof the stone and no further. Then a flint-pointed spear was given to me andspears were given also to the two captives who accompanied me, and it was madeclear to me by signs that I must fight with them, it being their part to leapupon the stone and mine to defend it. Now I thought that if I could kill thesetwo poor creatures, perhaps I myself should be allowed to go free, and so tosave my life I prepared to take theirs if I could. Presently the head priestgave a signal commanding the two men to attack me, but they were so lost infear that they did not even stir. Then the priests began to flog them withleather girdles till at length crying out with pain, they ran at me. Onereached the stone and leapt upon it a little before the other, and I struck thespear through his arm. Instantly he dropped his weapon and fled, and the otherman fled also, for there was no fight in them, nor would any flogging bringthem to face me again.

Seeing that they could not make them brave, the priests determined to have donewith them. Amidst a great noise of music and chanting, he whom I had smittenwas seized and dragged to the hog-backed block of marble, which in truth was astone of sacrifice. On this he was cast down, breast upwards, and held so byfive priests, two gripping his hands, two his legs, and one his head. Then,having donned a scarlet cloak, the head priest, that same who had felt myheart, uttered some kind of prayer, and, raising a curved knife of theflint-like glass or itztli, struck open the poor wretch’s breastat a single blow, and made the ancient offering to the sun.

As he did this all the multitude in the place below, in full view of whom thisbloody game was played, prostrated themselves, remaining on their knees tillthe offering had been thrown into the golden censer before the statue of thegod Huitzel. Thereon the horrible priests, casting themselves on the body,carried it with shouts to the edge of the pyramid or teocalli, androlled it down the steep sides. At the foot of the slope it was lifted andborne away by certain men who were waiting, for what purpose I did not know atthat time.

Scarcely was the first victim dead when the second was seized and treated in alike fashion, the multitude prostrating themselves as before. And then last ofall came my turn. I felt myself seized and my senses swam, nor did I recoverthem till I found myself lying on the accursed stone, the priests dragging atmy limbs and head, my breast strained upwards till the skin was stretched tightas that of a drum, while over me stood the human devil in his red mantle, theglass knife in his hand. Never shall I forget his wicked face maddened with thelust for blood, or the glare in his eyes as he tossed back his matted locks.But he did not strike at once, he gloated over me, pricking me with the pointof the knife. It seemed to me that I lay there for years while the pabaaimed and pointed with the knife, but at last through a mist that gatheredbefore my eyes, I saw it flash upward. Then when I thought that my hour hadcome, a hand caught his arm in mid-air and held it and I heard a voicewhispering.

What was said did not please the priest, for suddenly he howled aloud and madea dash towards me to kill me, but again his arm was caught before the knifefell. Then he withdrew into the temple of the god Quetzal, and for a long whileI lay upon the stone suffering the agonies of a hundred deaths, for I believedthat it was determined to torture me before I died, and that my slaughter hadbeen stayed for this purpose.

There I lay upon the stone, the fierce sunlight beating on my breast, whilefrom below came the faint murmur of the thousands of the wondering people. Allmy life seemed to pass before me as I was stretched upon that awful bed, ahundred little things which I had forgotten came back to me, and with themmemories of childhood, of my oath to my father, of Lily’s farewell kissand words, of de Garcia’s face as I was hurled into the sea, of the deathof Isabella de Siguenza, and lastly a vague wonder as to why all priests wereso cruel!

At length I heard footsteps and shut my eyes, for I could bear the sight ofthat dreadful knife no longer. But behold! no knife fell. Suddenly my handswere loosed and I was lifted to my feet, on which I never hoped to stand again.Then I was borne to the edge of the teocalli, for I could not walk, andhere my would-be murderer, the priest, having first shouted some words to thespectators below, that caused them to murmur like a forest when the wind stirsit, clasped me in his blood-stained arms and kissed me on the forehead. Now itwas for the first time that I noticed my captor, the cacique, standingat my side, grave, courteous, and smiling. As he had smiled when he handed meto the pabas, so he smiled when he took me back from them. Then havingbeen cleansed and clothed, I was led into the sanctuary of the god Quetzal andstood face to face with the hideous image there, staring at the golden censerthat was to have received my heart while the priests uttered prayers. Thence Iwas supported down the winding road of the pyramid till I came to its foot,where my captor the caciquetook me by the hand and led me through thepeople who, it seemed, now regarded me with some strange veneration. The firstperson that I saw when we reached the house was Marina, who looked at me andmurmured some soft words that I could not understand. Then I was suffered to goto my chamber, and there I passed the rest of the day prostrated by all that Ihad undergone. Truly I had come to a land of devils!

And now I will tell how it was that I came to be saved from the knife. Marinahaving taken some liking to me, pitied my sad fate, and being veryquick-witted, she found a way to rescue me. For when I had been led off tosacrifice, she spoke to the cacique, her lord, bringing it to his mindthat, by common report Montezuma, the Emperor of Anahuac, was disturbed as tothe Teules or Spaniards, and desired much to see one. Now, she said, I wasevidently a Teule, and Montezuma would be angered, indeed, if I were sacrificedin a far-off town, instead of being sent to him to sacrifice if he saw fit. Tothis the caciqueanswered that the words were wise, but that she shouldhave spoken them before, for now the priests had got hold of me, and it washopeless to save me from their grip.

“Nay,” answered Marina, “there is this to be said. Quetzal,the god to whom this Teule is to be offered, was a white man,^[4]and it may well happen that this man is one of his children. Will it please thegod that his child should be offered to him? At the least, if the god is notangered, Montezuma will certainly be wroth, and wreak a vengeance on you and onthe priests.”

[4]Quetzal, or more properly Quetzalcoatl, was the divinity who is fabled to havetaught the natives of Anahuac all the useful arts, including those ofgovernment and policy. He was white-skinned and dark-haired. Finally he sailedfrom the shores of Anahuac for the fabulous country of Tlapallan in a bark ofserpents’ skins. But before he sailed he promised that he would returnagain with a numerous progeny. This promise was remembered by the Aztecs, andit was largely on account of it that the Spaniards were enabled to conquer thecountry, for they were supposed to be his descendants. Perhaps Quetzalcoatl wasa Norseman! VideSagas of Eric the Redand of ThorfinnKarlsefne.—AUTHOR.

Now when the caciqueheard this he saw that Marina spoke truth, andhurrying up the teocalli, he caught the knife as it was in the act offalling upon me. At first the head priest was angered and called out that thiswas sacrilege, but when the caciquehad told him his mind, he understoodthat he would do wisely not to run a risk of the wrath of Montezuma. So I wasloosed and led into the sanctuary, and when I came out the pabaannounced to the people that the god had declared me to be one of his children,and it was for this reason that then and thereafter they treated me withreverence.

CHAPTER XIV
THE SAVING OF GUATEMOC

Now after this dreadful day I was kindly dealt with by the people of Tobasco,who gave me the name of Teule or Spaniard, and no longer sought to put me tosacrifice. Far from it indeed, I was well clothed and fed, and suffered towander where I would, though always under the care of guards who, had Iescaped, would have paid for it with their lives. I learned that on the morrowof my rescue from the priests, messengers were despatched to Montezuma, thegreat king, acquainting him with the history of my capture, and seeking to knowhis pleasure concerning me. But the way to Tenoctitlan was far, and many weekspassed before the messengers returned again. Meanwhile I filled the days inlearning the Maya language, and also something of that of the Aztecs, which Ipractised with Marina and others. For Marina was not a Tobascan, having beenborn at Painalla, on the southeastern borders of the empire. But her mothersold her to merchants in order that Marina’s inheritance might come toanother child of hers by a second marriage, and thus in the end the girl fellinto the hands of the caciqueof Tobasco.

Also I learned something of the history and customs, and of the picture writingof the land, and how to read it, and moreover I obtained great repute among theTobascans by my skill in medicine, so that in time they grew to believe that Iwas indeed a child of Quetzal, the good god. And the more I studied this peoplethe less I could understand of them. In most ways they were equal to any nationof our own world of which I had knowledge. None are more skilled in the arts,few are better architects or boast purer laws. Moreover, they were brave andhad patience. But their faith was the canker at the root of the tree. Inprecept it was noble and had much in common with our own, such as the rite ofbaptism, but I have told what it was in practice. And yet, when all is said, isit more cruel to offer up victims to the gods than to torture them in thevaults of the Holy Office or to immure them in the walls of nunneries?

When I had lived a month in Tobasco I had learned enough of the language totalk with Marina, with whom I grew friendly, though no more, and it was fromher that I gathered the most of my knowledge, and also many hints as to theconduct necessary to my safety. In return I taught her something of my ownfaith, and of the customs of the Europeans, and it was the knowledge that shegained from me which afterwards made her so useful to the Spaniards, andprepared her to accept their religion, giving her insight into the ways ofwhite people.

So I abode for four months and more in the house of the caciqueofTobasco, who carried his kindness towards me to the length of offering me hissister in marriage. To this proposal I said no as gently as I might, and hemarvelled at it, for the girl was fair. Indeed, so well was I treated, that hadit not been that my heart was far away, and because of the horrible rites oftheir religion which I was forced to witness almost daily, I could have learnedto love this gentle, skilled, and industrious people.

At length, when full four months had passed away, the messengers returned fromthe court of Montezuma, having been much delayed by swollen rivers and otheraccidents of travel. So great was the importance that the Emperor attached tothe fact of my capture, and so desirous was he to see me at his capital, thathe had sent his own nephew, the Prince Guatemoc, to fetch me and a great escortof warriors with him.

Never shall I forget my first meeting with this prince who afterwards became mydear companion and brother in arms. When the escort arrived I was away from thetown shooting deer with the bow and arrow, a weapon in the use of which I hadsuch skill that all the Indians wondered at me, not knowing that twice I hadwon the prize at the butts on Bungay Common. Our party being summoned by amessenger, we returned bearing our deer with us. On reaching the courtyard ofthe cacique’shouse, I found it filled with warriors mostgorgeously attired, and among them one more splendid than the rest. He wasyoung, very tall and broad, most handsome in face, and having eyes like thoseof an eagle, while his whole aspect breathed majesty and command. His body wasencased in a cuirass of gold, over which hung a mantle made of the mostgorgeous feathers, exquisitely set in bands of different colours. On his headhe wore a helmet of gold surmounted by the royal crest, an eagle, standing on asnake fashioned in gold and gems. On his arms, and beneath his knees, he worecirclets of gold and gems, and in his hand was a copper-bladed spear. Roundthis man were many nobles dressed in a somewhat similar fashion, except thatthe most of them wore a vest of quilted cotton in place of the gold cuirass,and a jewelled panacheof the plumes of birds instead of the royalsymbol.

This was Guatemoc, Montezuma’s nephew, and afterwards the last emperor ofAnahuac. So soon as I saw him I saluted him in the Indian fashion by touchingthe earth with my right hand, which I then raised to my head. But Guatemoc,having scanned me with his eye as I stood, bow in hand, attired in my simplehunter’s dress, smiled frankly and said:

“Surely, Teule, if I know anything of the looks of men, we are too equalin our birth, as in our age, for you to salute me as a slave greets hismaster.” And he held his hand to me.

I took it, answering with the help of Marina, who was watching this great lordwith eager eyes.

“It may be so, prince, but though in my own country I am a man of reputeand wealth, here I am nothing but a slave snatched from the sacrifice.”

“I know it,” he said frowning. “It is well for all here thatyou were so snatched before the breath of life had left you, elseMontezuma’s wrath had fallen on this city.” And he looked at thecaciquewho trembled, such in those days was the terror ofMontezuma’s name.

Then he asked me if I was a Teule or Spaniard. I told him that I was noSpaniard but one of another white race who had Spanish blood in his veins. Thissaying seemed to puzzle him, for he had never so much as heard of any otherwhite race, so I told him something of my story, at least so much of it as hadto do with my being cast away.

When I had finished, he said, “If I have understood aright, Teule, yousay that you are no Spaniard, yet that you have Spanish blood in you, and camehither in a Spanish ship, and I find this story strange. Well, it is forMontezuma to judge of these matters, so let us talk of them no more. Come andshow me how you handle that great bow of yours. Did you bring it with you ordid you fashion it here? They tell me, Teule, that there is no such archer inthe land.”

So I came up and showed him the bow which was of my own make, and would shootan arrow some sixty paces further than any that I saw in Anahuac, and we fellinto talk on matters of sport and war, Marina helping out my want of language,and before that day was done we had grown friendly.

For a week the prince Guatemoc and his company rested in the town of Tobasco,and all this time we three talked much together. Soon I saw that Marina lookedwith eyes of longing on the great lord, partly because of his beauty, rank andmight, and partly because she wearied of her captivity in the house of thecacique, and would share Guatemoc’s power, for Marina wasambitious. She tried to win his heart in many ways, but he seemed not to noticeher, so that at last she spoke more plainly and in my hearing.

“You go hence to-morrow, prince,” she said softly, “and Ihave a favour to ask of you, if you will listen to your handmaid.”

“Speak on, maiden,” he answered.

“I would ask this, that if it pleases you, you will buy me of thecaciquemy master, or command him to give me up to you, and take me withyou to Tenoctitlan.”

Guatemoc laughed aloud. “You put things plainly, maiden,” he said,“but know that in the city of Tenoctitlan, my wife and royal cousin,Tecuichpo, awaits me, and with her three other ladies, who as it chances aresomewhat jealous.”

Now Marina flushed beneath her brown skin, and for the first and last time Isaw her gentle eyes grow hard with anger as she answered:

“I asked you to take me with you, prince; I did not ask to be your wifeor love.”

“But perchance you meant it,” he said dryly.

“Whatever I may have meant, prince, it is now forgotten. I wished to seethe great city and the great king, because I weary of my life here and wouldmyself grow great. You have refused me, but perhaps a time will come when Ishall grow great in spite of you, and then I may remember the shame that hasbeen put upon me against you, prince, and all your royal house.”

Again Guatemoc laughed, then of a sudden grew stern.

“You are over-bold, girl,” he said; “for less words thanthese many a one might find herself stretched upon the stone of sacrifice. ButI will forget them, for your woman’s pride is stung, and you know notwhat you say. Do you forget them also, Teule, if you have understood.”

Then Marina turned and went, her bosom heaving with anger and outraged love orpride, and as she passed me I heard her mutter, “Yes, prince, you mayforget, but I shall not.”

Often since that day I have wondered if some vision of the future entered intothe girl’s breast in that hour, or if in her wrath she spoke at random. Ihave wondered also whether this scene between her and Guatemoc had anything todo with the history of her after life; or did Marina, as she avowed to me indays to come, bring shame and ruin on her country for the love of Cortes alone?It is hard to say, and perhaps these things had nothing to do with whatfollowed, for when great events have happened, we are apt to search out causesfor them in the past that were no cause. This may have been but a passing moodof hers and one soon put out of mind, for it is certain that few build up thetemples of their lives upon some firm foundation of hope or hate, of desire ordespair, though it has happened to me to do so, but rather take chance fortheir architect—and indeed whether they take him or no, he is still themaster builder. Still that Marina did not forget this talk I know, for in aftertimes I heard her remind this very prince of the words that had passed betweenthem, ay, and heard his noble answer to her.

Now I have but one more thing to tell of my stay in Tobasco, and then let me onto Mexico, and to the tale of how Montezuma’s daughter became my wife,and of my further dealings with de Garcia.

On the day of our departure a great sacrifice of slaves was held upon theteocallito propitiate the gods, so that they might give us a safejourney, and also in honour of some festival, for to the festivals of theIndians there was no end. Thither we went up the sides of the steep pyramid,since I must look upon these horrors daily. When all was prepared, and we stoodaround the stone of sacrifice while the multitude watched below, that fiercepabawho once had felt the beatings of my heart, came forth from thesanctuary of the god Quetzal and signed to his companions to stretch the firstof the victims on the stone. Then of a sudden the prince Guatemoc steppedforward, and addressing the priests, pointed to their chief, and said:

“Seize that man!”

They hesitated, for though he who commanded was a prince of the blood royal, tolay hands upon a high priest was sacrilege. Then with a smile Guatemoc drewforth a ring having a dull blue stone set in its bezel, on which was engraved astrange device. With the ring he drew out also a scroll of picture-writing, andheld them both before the eyes of the pabas. Now the ring was the ringof Montezuma, and the scroll was signed by the great high priest ofTenoctitlan, and those who looked on the ring and the scroll knew well that todisobey the mandate of him who bore them was death and dishonour in one. Sowithout more ado they seized their chief and held him. Then Guatemoc spokeagain and shortly:

“Lay him on the stone and sacrifice him to the god Quetzal.”

Now he who had taken such fierce joy in the death of others on this same stone,began to tremble and weep, for he did not desire to drink of his own medicine.

“Why must I be offered up, O prince?” he cried, “I who havebeen a faithful servant to the gods and to the Emperor.”

“Because you dared to try to offer up this Teule,” answeredGuatemoc, pointing to me, “without leave from your master Montezuma, andbecause of the other evils that you have done, all of which are written in thisscroll. The Teule is a son of Quetzal, as you have yourself declared, andQuetzal will be avenged because of his son. Away with him, here is yourwarrant.”

Then the priests, who till this moment had been his servants, dragged theirchief to the stone, and there, notwithstanding his prayers and bellowings, onewho had donned his mantle practised his own art upon him, and presently hisbody was cast down the side of the pyramid. For my part I am not sufficient ofa Christian to pretend that I was sorry to see him die in that same fashion bywhich he had caused the death of so many better men.

When it was done Guatemoc turned to me and said, “So perish all yourenemies, my friend Teule.”

Within an hour of this event, which revealed to me how great was the power ofMontezuma, seeing that the sight of a ring from his finger could bring aboutthe instant death of a high priest at the hands of his disciples, we started onour long journey. But before I went I bid a warm farewell to my friend thecacique, and also to Marina, who wept at my going. The caciqueInever saw again, but Marina I did see.

For a whole month we travelled, for the way was far and the road rough, andsometimes we must cut our path through forests and sometimes we must wait uponthe banks of rivers. Many were the strange sights that I saw upon that journey,and many the cities in which we sojourned in much state and honour, but Icannot stop to tell of all these.

One thing I will relate, however, though briefly, because it changed the regardthat the prince Guatemoc and I felt one to the other into a friendship whichlasted till his death, and indeed endures in my heart to this hour.

One day we were delayed by the banks of a swollen river, and in pastime wentout to hunt for deer. When we had hunted a while and killed three deer, itchanced that Guatemoc perceived a buck standing on a hillock, and we set out tostalk it, five of us in all. But the buck was in the open, and the trees andbush ceased a full hundred yards away from where he stood, so that there was noway by which we might draw near to him. Then Guatemoc began to mock me, saying,“Now, Teule, they tell tales of your archery, and this deer is thrice asfar as we Aztecs can make sure of killing. Let us see your skill.”

“I will try,” I answered, “though the shot is long.”

So we drew beneath the cover of a ceibatree, of which the lowestbranches drooped to within fifteen feet of the ground, and having set an arrowon the string of the great bow that I had fashioned after the shape of those weuse in merry England, I aimed and drew it. Straight sped the arrow and struckthe buck fair, passing through its heart, and a low murmur of wonderment wentup from those who saw the feat.

Then, just as we prepared to go to the fallen deer, a male puma, which isnothing but a cat, though fifty times as big, that had been watching the buckfrom above, dropped down from the boughs of the ceibatree full on tothe shoulders of the prince Guatemoc, felling him to the ground, where he layface downwards while the fierce brute clawed and bit at his back. Indeed had itnot been for his golden cuirass and helm Guatemoc would never have lived to beemperor of Anahuac, and perhaps it might have been better so.

Now when they saw the puma snarling and tearing at the person of their prince,though brave men enough, the three nobles who were with us were seized bysudden panic and ran, thinking him dead. But I did not run, though I shouldhave been glad enough to do so. At my side hung one of the Indian weapons thatserve them instead of swords, a club of wood set on both sides with spikes ofobsidian, like the teeth in the bill of a swordfish. Snatching it from its loopI gave the puma battle, striking a blow upon his head that rolled him over andcaused the blood to pour. In a moment he was up and at me roaring with rage.Whirling the wooden sword with both hands I smote him in mid air, the blowpassing between his open paws and catching him full on the snout and head. Sohard was this stroke that my weapon was shattered, still it did not stop thepuma. In a second I was cast to the earth with a great shock, and the brute wason me tearing and biting at my chest and neck. It was well for me at thatmoment that I wore a garment of quilted cotton, otherwise I must have beenripped open, and even with this covering I was sadly torn, and to this day Ibear the marks of the beast’s claws upon my body. But now when I seemedto be lost the great blow that I had struck took effect on him, for one of thepoints of glass had pierced to his brain. He lifted his head, his clawscontracted themselves in my flesh, then he howled like a dog in pain and felldead upon my body. So I lay upon the ground unable to stir, for I was muchhurt, until my companions, having taken heart, came back and pulled the pumaoff me. By this time Guatemoc, who saw all, but till now was unable to movefrom lack of breath, had found his feet again.

“Teule,” he gasped, “you are a brave man indeed, and if youlive I swear that I will always stand your friend to the death as you havestood mine.”

Thus he spoke to me; but to the others he said nothing, casting no reproachesat them.

Then I fainted away.

CHAPTER XV
THE COURT OF MONTEZUMA

Now for a week I was so ill from my wounds that I was unable to be moved, andthen I must be carried in a litter till we came to within three days’journey of the city of Tenoctitlan or Mexico. After that, as the roads were nowbetter made and cared for than any I have seen in England, I was able to taketo my feet again. Of this I was glad, for I have no love of being borne on theshoulders of other men after the womanish Indian fashion, and, moreover, as wehad now come to a cold country, the road running through vast table-lands andacross the tops of mountains, it was no longer necessary as it had been in thehot lands. Never did I see anything more dreary than these immense lengths ofdesolate plains covered with aloes and other thorny and succulent shrubs offantastic aspect, which alone could live on the sandy and waterless soil. Thisis a strange land, that can boast three separate climates within its borders,and is able to show all the glories of the tropics side by side with deserts ofmeasureless expanse.

One night we camped in a rest house, of which there were many built along theroads for the use of travellers, that was placed almost on the top of thesierraor mountain range which surrounds the valley of Tenoctitlan. Nextmorning we took the road again before dawn, for the cold was so sharp at thisgreat height that we, who had travelled from the hot land, could sleep verylittle, and also Guatemoc desired if it were possible to reach the city thatnight.

When we had gone a few hundred paces the path came to the crest of the mountainrange, and I halted suddenly in wonder and admiration. Below me lay a vast bowlof land and water, of which, however, I could see nothing, for the shadows ofthe night still filled it. But before me, piercing the very clouds, towered thecrests of two snow-clad mountains, and on these the light of the unrisen sunplayed, already changing their whiteness to the stain of blood. Popo, or theHill that Smokes, is the name of the one, and Ixtac, or the Sleeping Woman,that of the other, and no grander sight was ever offered to the eyes of manthan they furnished in that hour before the dawn. From the lofty summit of Popowent up great columns of smoke which, what with the fire in their heart and thecrimson of the sunrise, looked like rolling pillars of flame. And for the gloryof the glittering slopes below, that changed continually from the mystery ofwhite to dull red, from red to crimson, and from crimson to every dazzling huethat the rainbow holds, who can tell it, who can even imagine it? None, indeed,except those that have seen the sun rise over the volcans of Tenoctitlan.

When I had feasted my eyes on Popo I turned to Ixtac. She is not so lofty asher “husband,” for so the Aztecs name the volcan Popo, and whenfirst I looked I could see nothing but the gigantic shape of a woman fashionedin snow, and lying like a corpse upon her lofty bier, whose hair streamed downthe mountain side. But now the sunbeams caught her also, and she seemed tostart out in majesty from a veil of rosy mist, a wonderful and thrilling sight.But beautiful as she was then, still I love the Sleeping Woman best at eve.Then she lies a shape of glory on the blackness beneath, and is slowlyswallowed up into the solemn night as the dark draws its veil across her.

Now as I gazed the light began to creep down the sides of the volcans,revealing the forests on their flanks. But still the vast valley was filledwith mist that lay in dense billows resembling those of the sea, through whichhills and temple tops started up like islands. By slow degrees as we passedupon our downward road the vapours cleared away, and the lakes of Tezcuco,Chalco, and Xochicalco shone in the sunlight like giant mirrors. On their banksstood many cities, indeed the greatest of these, Mexico, seemed to float uponthe waters; beyond them and about them were green fields of corn and aloe, andgroves of forest trees, while far away towered the black wall of rock thathedges in the valley.

All day we journeyed swiftly through this fairy land. We passed through thecities of Amaquem and Ajotzinco, which I will not stay to describe, and many alovely village that nestled upon the borders of Lake Chalco. Then we entered onthe great causeway of stone built like a road resting on the waters, and withthe afternoon we came to the town of Cuitlahuac. Thence we passed on toIztapalapan, and here Guatemoc would have rested for the night in the royalhouse of his uncle Cuitlahua. But when we reached the town we found thatMontezuma, who had been advised of our approach by runners, had sent ordersthat we were to push on to Tenoctitlan, and that palanquins had been made readyto bear us. So we entered the palanquins, and leaving that lovely city ofgardens, were borne swiftly along the southern causeway. On we went past townsbuilt upon piles fixed in the bottom of the lake, past gardens that were laidout on reeds and floated over the waters like a boat, past teocallisandglistening temples without number, through fleets of light canoes and thousandsof Indians going to and fro about their business, till at length towards sunsetwe reached the battlemented fort that is called Xoloc which stands upon thedyke. I say stands, but alas! it stands no more. Cortes has destroyed it, andwith it all those glorious cities which my eyes beheld that day.

At Xoloc we began to enter the city of Tenoctitlan or Mexico, the mightiestcity that ever I had seen. The houses on the outskirts, indeed, were built ofmud or adobe, but those in the richer parts were constructed of red stone. Eachhouse surrounded a courtyard and was in turn surrounded by a garden, whilebetween them ran canals, having footpaths on either side. Then there weresquares, and in the squares pyramids, palaces, and temples without end. I gazedon them till I was bewildered, but all seemed as nothing when at length I sawthe great temple with its stone gateways opening to the north and the south,the east and the west, its wall carven everywhere with serpents, its polishedpavements, its teocallisdecked with human skulls, thousands uponthousands of them, and its vast surrounding tianquez, or market place. I caughtbut a glimpse of it then, for the darkness was falling, and afterwards we wereborne on through the darkness, I did not know whither.

A while went by and I saw that we had left the city, and were passing up asteep hill beneath the shadow of mighty cedar trees. Presently we halted in acourtyard and here I was bidden to alight. Then the prince Guatemoc led me intoa wondrous house, of which all the rooms were roofed with cedar wood, and itswalls hung with richly-coloured cloths, and in that house gold seemed asplentiful as bricks and oak are with us in England. Led by domestics who borecedar wands in their hands, we went through many passages and rooms, till atlength we came to a chamber where other domestics were awaiting us, who washedus with scented waters and clothed us in gorgeous apparel. Thence theyconducted us to a door where we were bidden to remove our shoes, and a coarsecoloured robe was given to each of us to hide our splendid dress. The robeshaving been put on, we were suffered to pass the door, and found ourselves in avast chamber in which were many noble men and some women, all standing and cladin coarse robes. At the far end of this chamber was a gilded screen, and frombehind it floated sounds of sweet music.

Now as we stood in the great chamber that was lighted with sweet-smellingtorches, many men advanced and greeted Guatemoc the prince, and I noticed thatall of them looked upon me curiously. Presently a woman came and I saw that herbeauty was great. She was tall and stately, and beneath her rough outer robesplendidly attired in worked and jewelled garments. Weary and bewildered as Iwas, her loveliness seized me as it were in a vice, never before had I seensuch loveliness. For her eye was proud and full like the eye of a buck, hercurling hair fell upon her shoulders, and her features were very noble, yettender almost to sadness, though at times she could seem fierce enough. Thislady was yet in her first youth, perchance she may have seen some eighteenyears, but her shape was that of a full-grown woman and most royal.

“Greeting, Guatemoc my cousin,” she said in a sweet voice;“so you are come at last. My royal father has awaited you for long andwill ask questions as to your delay. My sister your wife has wondered also whyyou tarried.”

Now as she spoke I felt rather than saw that this lady was searching me withher eyes.

“Greeting, Otomie my cousin,” answered the prince. “I havebeen delayed by the accidents of travel. Tobasco is far away, also my chargeand companion, Teule,” and he nodded towards me, “met with anaccident on the road.”

“What was the accident?” she asked.

“Only this, that he saved me from the jaws of a puma at the risk of hislife when all the others fled from me, and was somewhat hurt in the deed. Hesaved me thus—” and in few words he told the story.

She listened and I saw that her eyes sparkled at the tale. When it was done shespoke again, and this time to me.

“Welcome, Teule,” she said smiling. “You are not of ourpeople, yet my heart goes out to such a man.” And still smiling she leftus.

“Who is that great lady?” I asked of Guatemoc.

“That is my cousin Otomie, the princess of the Otomie, my uncleMontezuma’s favourite daughter,” he answered. “She likes you,Teule, and that is well for you for many reasons. Hush!”

As he spoke the screen at the far end of the chamber was drawn aside. Beyond ita man sat upon a broidered cushion, who was inhaling the fumes of the tobaccoweed from a gilded pipe of wood after the Indian fashion. This man, who was noother than the monarch Montezuma, was of a tall build and melancholycountenance, having a very pale face for one of his nation, and thin blackhair. He was dressed in a white robe of the purest cotton, and wore a goldenbelt and sandals set with pearls, and on his head a plume of feathers of theroyal green. Behind him were a band of beautiful girls somewhat slightlyclothed, some of whom played on lutes and other instruments of music, and oneither side stood four ancient counsellors, all of them barefooted and clad inthe coarsest garments.

So soon as the screen was drawn all the company in the chamber prostratedthemselves upon their knees, an example that I hastened to follow, and thusthey remained till the emperor made a sign with the gilded bowl of his pipe,when they rose to their feet again and stood with folded hands and eyes fixedabjectly upon the floor. Presently Montezuma made another signal, and threeaged men whom I understood to be ambassadors, advanced and asked some prayer ofhim. He answered them with a nod of the head and they retreated from hispresence, making obeisance and stepping backward till they mingled with thecrowd. Then the emperor spoke a word to one of the counsellors, who bowed andcame slowly down the hall looking to the right and to the left. Presently hiseye fell upon Guatemoc, and, indeed, he was easy to see, for he stood a headtaller than any there.

“Hail, prince,” he said. “The royal Montezuma desires tospeak with you, and with the Teule, your companion.”

“Do as I do, Teule,” said Guatemoc, and led the way up the chamber,till we reached the place where the wooden screen had been, which, as we passedit, was drawn behind us, shutting us off from the hall.

Here we stood a while, with folded hands and downcast eyes, till a signal wasmade to us to advance.

“Your report, nephew,” said Montezuma in a low voice of command.

“I went to the city of Tobasco, O glorious Montezuma. I found the Teuleand brought him hither. Also I caused the high priest to be sacrificedaccording to the royal command, and now I hand back the imperial signet,”and he gave the ring to a counsellor.

“Why did you delay so long upon the road, nephew?”

“Because of the chances of the journey; while saving my life, royalMontezuma, the Teule my prisoner was bitten by a puma. Its skin is brought toyou as an offering.”

Now Montezuma looked at me for the first time, then opened a picture scrollthat one of the counsellors handed to him, and read in it, glancing at me fromtime to time.

“The description is good,” he said at length, “in all saveone thing—it does not say that this prisoner is the handsomest man inAnahuac. Say, Teule, why have your countrymen landed on my dominions and slainmy people?”

“I know nothing of it, O king,” I answered as well as I might withthe help of Guatemoc, “and they are not my countrymen.”

“The report says that you confess to having the blood of these Teules inyour veins, and that you came to these shores, or near them, in one of theirgreat canoes.”

“That is so, O king, yet I am not of their people, and I came to theshore floating on a barrel.”

“I hold that you lie,” answered Montezuma frowning, “for thesharks and crocodiles would devour one who swam thus.” Then he addedanxiously, “Say, are you of the descendants of Quetzal?”

“I do not know, O king. I am of a white race, and our forefather wasnamed Adam.”

“Perchance that is another name for Quetzal,” he said. “Ithas long been prophesied that his children would return, and now it seems thatthe hour of their coming is at hand,” and he sighed heavily, then added:“Go now. To-morrow you shall tell me of these Teules, and the council ofthe priests shall decide your fate.”

Now when I heard the name of the priests I trembled in all my bones and cried,clasping my hands in supplication:

“Slay me if you will, O king, but I beseech you deliver me not again intothe hands of the priests.”

“We are all in the hands of the priests, who are the mouth of God,”he answered coldly. “Besides, I hold that you have lied to me.”

Then I went foreboding evil, and Guatemoc also looked downcast. Bitterly did Icurse the hour when I had said that I was of the Spanish blood and yet noSpaniard. Had I known even what I knew that day, torture would not have wrungthose words from me. But now it was too late.

Now Guatemoc led me to certain apartments of this palace of Chapoltepec, wherehis wife, the royal princess Tecuichpo, was waiting him, a very lovely lady,and with her other ladies, among them the princess Otomie, Montezuma’sdaughter, and some nobles. Here a rich repast was served to us, and I wasseated next to the princess Otomie, who spoke to me most graciously, asking memany things concerning my land and the people of the Teules. It was from herthat I learned first that the emperor was much disturbed at heart because ofthese Teules or Spaniards, for he was superstitious, and held them to be thechildren of the god Quetzal, who according to ancient prophecy would come totake the land. Indeed, so gracious was she, and so royally lovely, that for thefirst time I felt my heart stirred by any other woman than my betrothed whom Ihad left far away in England, and whom, as I thought, I should never see again.And as I learned in after days mine was not the only heart that was stirredthat night.

Near to us sat another royal lady, Papantzin, the sister of Montezuma, but shewas neither young nor lovely, and yet most sweet faced and sad as though withthe presage of death. Indeed she died not many weeks after but could not restquiet in her grave, as shall be told.

When the feast was done and we had drunk of the cocoa or chocolate, andsmoked tobacco in pipes, a strange but most soothing custom that I learned inTobasco and of which I have never been able to break myself, though the weed isstill hard to come by here in England, I was led to my sleeping place, a smallchamber panelled with cedar boards. For a while I could not sleep, for I wasovercome by the memory of all the strange sights that I had seen in thiswonderful new land which was so civilised and yet so barbarous. I thought ofthat sad-faced king, the absolute lord of millions, surrounded by all that theheart of man can desire, by vast wealth, by hundreds of lovely wives, by lovingchildren, by countless armies, by all the glory of the arts, ruling over thefairest empire on the earth, with every pleasure to his hand, a god in allthings save his mortality, and worshipped as a god, and yet a victim to fearand superstition, and more heavy hearted than the meanest slave about hispalaces. Here was a lesson such as Solomon would have loved to show, for withSolomon this Montezuma might cry:

“I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure of kingsand of the provinces: I gat me men singers and women singers, and the delightsof the sons of men, and musical instruments, and that of all sorts. Andwhatsoever my eyes desired I kept not from them, I withheld not my heart fromany joy. And behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was noprofit under the sun.”

So he might have cried, so, indeed, he did cry in other words, for, as thepainting of the skeletons and the three monarchs that is upon the north wall ofthe aisle of Ditchingham Church shows forth so aptly, kings have their fatesand happiness is not to them more than to any other of the sons of men. Indeed,it is not at all, as my benefactor Fonseca once said to me; true happiness isbut a dream from which we awake continually to the sorrows of our shortlaborious day.

Then my thoughts flew to the vision of that most lovely maid, the princessOtomie, who, as I believed, had looked on me so kindly, and I found that visionsweet, for I was young, and the English Lily, my own love, was far away andlost to me for ever. Was it then wonderful that I should find this Indian poppyfair? Indeed, where is the man who would not have been overcome by hersweetness, her beauty, and that stamp of royal grace which comes with kinglyblood and the daily exercise of power? Like the rich wonders of the robe shewore, her very barbarism, of which now I saw but the better side, drew anddazzled my mind’s eye, giving her woman’s tenderness some newquality, sombre and strange, an eastern richness which is lacking in our wellschooled English women, that at one and the same stroke touched both theimagination and the senses, and through them enthralled the heart.

For Otomie seemed such woman as men dream of but very rarely win, seeing thatthe world has few such natures and fewer nurseries where they can be reared. Atonce pure and passionate, of royal blood and heart, rich natured and mostwomanly, yet brave as a man and beautiful as the night, with a mind athirst forknowledge and a spirit that no sorrows could avail to quell, ever changing inher outer moods, and yet most faithful and with the honour of a man, such wasOtomie, Montezuma’s daughter, princess of the Otomie. Was it wonderfulthen that I found her fair, or, when fate gave me her love, that at last Iloved her in turn? And yet there was that in her nature which should have heldme back had I but known of it, for with all her charm, her beauty and hervirtues, at heart she was still a savage, and strive as she would to hide it,at times her blood would master her.

But as I lay in the chamber of the palace of Chapoltepec, the tramp of theguards without my door reminded me that I had little now to do with love andother delights, I whose life hung from day to day upon a hair. To-morrow thepriests would decide my fate, and when the priests were judges, the prisonermight know the sentence before it was spoken. I was a stranger and a white man,surely such a one would prove an offering more acceptable to the gods than thatfurnished by a thousand Indian hearts. I had been snatched from the altars ofTobasco that I might grace the higher altars of Tenoctitlan, and that was all.My fate would be to perish miserably far from my home, and in this world neverto be heard of more.

Musing thus sadly at last I slept. When I woke the sun was up. Rising from mymat I went to the wood-barred window place and looked through. The palacewhence I gazed was placed on the crest of a rocky hill. On one side this hillwas bathed by the blue waters of Tezcuco, on the other, a mile or more away,rose the temple towers of Mexico. Along the slopes of the hill, and in somedirections for a mile from its base, grew huge cedar trees from the boughs ofwhich hung a grey and ghostly-looking moss. These trees are so large that thesmallest of them is bigger than the best oak in this parish of Ditchingham,while the greatest measures twenty-two paces round the base. Beyond and betweenthese marvellous and ancient trees were the gardens of Montezuma, that withtheir strange and gorgeous flowers, their marble baths, their aviaries and wildbeast dens, were, as I believe, the most wonderful in the whole world.^[5]

“At the least,” I thought to myself, “even if I must die, itis something to have seen this country of Anahuac, its king, its customs, andits people.”

[5]The gardens of Montezuma have been long destroyed, but some of the cedars stillflourish at Chapoltepec, though the Spaniards cut down many. One of them, whichtradition says was a favourite tree of the great emperor’s, measures(according to a rough calculation the author of this book made upon the spot)about sixty feet round the bole. It is strange to think that a few ancientconifers should alone survive of all the glories of Montezuma’s wealthand state. —AUTHOR.

CHAPTER XVI
THOMAS BECOMES A GOD

Little did I, plain Thomas Wingfield, gentleman, know, when I rose thatmorning, that before sunset I should be a god, and after Montezuma the Emperor,the most honoured man, or rather god, in the city of Mexico.

It came about thus. When I had breakfasted with the household of the princeGuatemoc, I was led to the hall of justice, which was named the “tribunalof god.” Here on a golden throne sat Montezuma, administering justice insuch pomp as I cannot describe. About him were his counsellors and great lords,and before him was placed a human skull crowned with emeralds so large that ablaze of light went up from them. In his hand also he held an arrow for asceptre. Certain chiefs or caciqueswere on their trial for treason, norwere they left long in doubt as to their fate. For when some evidence had beenheard they were asked what they had to say in their defence. Each of them toldhis tale in few words and short. Then Montezuma, who till now had said and donenothing, took the painted scroll of their indictments and pricked it with thearrow in his hand where the picture of each prisoner appeared upon the scroll.Then they were led away to death, but how they died I do not know.

When this trial was finished certain priests entered the hall clothed in sablerobes, their matted hair hanging down their backs. They were fierce, wild-eyedmen of great dignity, and I shivered when I saw them. I noticed also that theyalone made small reverence to the majesty of Montezuma. The counsellors andnobles having fallen back, these priests entered into talk with the emperor,and presently two of them came forward and taking me from the custody of theguards, led me forward before the throne. Then of a sudden I was commanded tostrip myself of my garments, and this I did with no little shame, till I stoodnaked before them all. Now the priests came forward and examined every part ofme closely. On my arms were the scars left by de Garcia’s sword, and onmy breast the scarcely healed marks of the puma’s teeth and claws. Thesewounds they scanned, asking how I had come by them. I told them, and thereuponthey carried on a discussion among themselves, and out of my hearing, whichgrew so warm that at length they appealed to the emperor to decide the point.He thought a while, and I heard him say:

“The blemishes do not come from within the body, nor were they upon it atbirth, but have been inflicted by the violence of man and beast.”

Then the priests consulted together again, and presently their leader spokesome words into the ear of Montezuma. He nodded, and rising from his throne,came towards me who stood naked and shivering before him, for the air of Mexicois keen. As he advanced he loosed a chain of emeralds and gold that hung abouthis neck, and unclasped the royal cloak from his shoulders. Then with his ownhand, he put the chain about my throat, and the cloak upon my shoulders, andhaving humbly bent the knee before me as though in adoration, he cast his armsabout me and embraced me.

“Hail! most blessed,” he said, “divine son of Quetzal, holderof the spirit of Tezcat, Soul of the World, Creator of the World. What have wedone that you should honour us thus with your presence for a season? What canwe do to pay the honour back? You created us and all this country; behold!while you tarry with us, it is yours and we are nothing but your servants.Order and your commands shall be obeyed, think and your thought shall beexecuted before it can pass your lips. O Tezcat, I, Montezuma your servant,offer you my adoration, and through me the adoration of all my people,”and again he bowed the knee.

“We adore you, O Tezcat!” chimed in the priests.

Now I remained silent and bewildered, for of all this foolery I couldunderstand nothing, and while I stood thus Montezuma clapped his hands andwomen entered bearing beautiful clothing with them, and a wreath of flowers.The clothing they put upon my body and the wreath of flowers on my head,worshipping me the while and saying, “Tezcat who died yesterday is comeagain. Be joyful, Tezcat has come again in the body of the captiveTeule.”

Then I understood that I was now a god and the greatest of gods, though at thatmoment within myself I felt more of a fool than I had ever been before.

And now men appeared, grave and reverend in appearance, bearing lutes in theirhands. I was told that these were my tutors, and with them a train of royalpages who were to be my servants. They led me forth from the hall making musicas they went, and before me marched a herald, calling out that this was the godTezcat, Soul of the World, Creator of the World, who had come again to visithis people. They led me through all the courts and endless chambers of thepalace, and wherever I went, man woman and child bowed themselves to the earthbefore me, and worshipped me, Thomas Wingfield of Ditchingham, in the county ofNorfolk, till I thought that I must be mad.

Then they placed me in a litter and carried me down the hill Chapoltepec, andalong causeways and through streets, till we came to the great square of thetemple. Before me went heralds and priests, after me followed pages and nobles,and ever as we passed the multitudes prostrated themselves till I began tounderstand how wearisome a thing it is to be a god. Next they carried methrough the wall of serpents and up the winding paths of the mightyteocallitill we reached the summit, where the temples and idols stood,and here a great drum beat, and the priests sacrificed victim after victim inmy honour and I grew sick with the sight of wickedness and blood. Presentlythey invited me to descend from the litter, laying rich carpets and flowers formy feet to tread on, and I was much afraid, for I thought that they were aboutto sacrifice me to myself or some other divinity. But this was not so. They ledme to the edge of the pyramid, or as near as I would go, for I shrank back lestthey should seize me suddenly and cast me over the edge. And there the highpriest called out my dignity to the thousands who were assembled beneath, andevery one of them bent the knee in adoration of me, the priests above and themultitudes below. And so it went on till I grew dizzy with the worship, and theshouting, and the sounds of music, and the sights of death, and very thankfulwas I, when at last they carried me back to Chapoltepec.

Here new honours awaited me, for I was conducted to a splendid range ofapartments, next to those of the emperor himself, and I was told that allMontezuma’s household were at my command and that he who refused to do mybidding should die.

So at last I spoke and said it was my bidding that I should be suffered to resta while, till a feast was prepared for me in the apartments of Guatemoc theprince, for there I hoped to meet Otomie.

My tutors and the nobles who attended me answered that Montezuma my servant hadtrusted that I would feast with him that night. Still my command should bedone. Then they left me, saying that they would come again in an hour to leadme to the banquet. Now I threw off the emblems of my godhead and cast myselfdown on cushions to rest and think, and a certain exultation took possession ofme, for was I not a god, and had I not power almost absolute? Still being of acautious mind I wondered why I was a god, and how long my power would last.

Before the hour had gone by, pages and nobles entered, bearing new robes whichwere put upon my body and fresh flowers to crown my head, and I was led away tothe apartments of Guatemoc, fair women going before me who played uponinstruments of music.

Here Guatemoc the prince waited to receive me, which he did as though I, hiscaptive and companion, was the first of kings. And yet I thought that I sawmerriment in his eye, mingled with sorrow. Bending forward I spoke to him in awhisper:

“What does all this mean, prince?” I said. “Am I befooled, oram I indeed a god?”

“Hush!” he answered, bowing low and speaking beneath his breath.“It means both good and ill for you, my friend Teule. Another time I willtell you.” Then he added aloud, “Does it please you, O Tezcat, godof gods, that we should sit at meat with you, or will you eat alone?”

“The gods like good company, prince,” I said.

Now during this talk I had discovered that among those gathered in the hall wasthe princess Otomie. So when we passed to the low table around which we were tosit on cushions, I hung back watching where she would place herself, and thenat once seated myself beside her. This caused some little confusion among thecompany, for the place of honour had been prepared for me at the head of thetable, the seat of Guatemoc being to my right and that of his wife, the royalTecuichpo, to my left.

“Your seat is yonder, O Tezcat,” she said, blushing beneath herolive skin as she spoke.

“Surely a god may sit where he chooses, royal Otomie,” I answered;“besides,” I added in a low voice, “what better place can hefind than by the side of the most lovely goddess on the earth.”

Again she blushed and answered, “Alas! I am no goddess, but only a mortalmaid. Listen, if you desire that I should be your companion at our feasts, youmust issue it as a command; none will dare to disobey you, not even Montezumamy father.”

So I rose and said in very halting Aztec to the nobles who waited on me,“It is my will that my place shall always be set by the side of theprincess Otomie.”

At these words Otomie blushed even more, and a murmur went round among theguests, while Guatemoc first looked angry and then laughed. But the nobles, myattendants, bowed, and their spokesman answered:

“The words of Tezcat shall be obeyed. Let the seat of Otomie, the royalprincess, the favoured of Tezcat, be placed by the side of the god.”

Afterwards this was always done, except when I ate with Montezuma himself.Moreover the princess Otomie became known throughout the city as “theblessed princess, the favoured of Tezcat.” For so strong a hold hadcustom and superstition upon this people that they thought it the greatest ofhonours to her, who was among the first ladies in the land, that he who for alittle space was supposed to hold the spirit of the soul of the world, shoulddeign to desire her companionship when he ate. Now the feast went on, andpresently I made shift to ask Otomie what all this might mean.

“Alas!” she whispered, “you do not know, nor dare I tell younow. But I will say this: though you who are a god may sit where you willto-day, an hour shall come when you must lie where you would not. Listen: whenwe have finished eating, say that it is your wish to walk in the gardens of thepalace and that I should accompany you. Then I may find a chance tospeak.”

Accordingly, when the feast was over I said that I desired to walk in thegardens with the princess Otomie, and we went out and wandered under the solemntrees, that are draped in a winding-sheet of grey moss which, hanging fromevery bough as though the forest had been decked with the white beards of anarmy of aged men, waved and rustled sadly in the keen night air. But alas! wemight not be alone, for after us at a distance of twenty paces followed all mycrowd of attendant nobles, together with fair dancing girls and minstrels armedwith their accursed flutes, on which they blew in season and out of it, dancingas they blew. In vain did I command them to be silent, telling them that it waswritten of old that there is a time to play and dance and a time to cease fromdancing, for in this alone they would not obey me. Never could I be at peacebecause of them then or thereafter, and not till now did I learn how great atreasure is solitude.

Still we were allowed to walk together under the trees, and though the clamourof music pursued us wherever we went, we were soon deep in talk. Then it wasthat I learned how dreadful was the fate which overshadowed me.

“Know, O Teule,” said Otomie, for she would call me by the old namewhen there were none to hear; “this is the custom of our land, that everyyear a young captive should be chosen to be the earthly image of the godTezcat, who created the world. Only two things are necessary to this captive,namely, that his blood should be noble, and that his person should be beautifuland without flaw or blemish. The day that you came hither, Teule, chanced to bethe day of choosing a new captive to personate the god, and you have beenchosen because you are both noble and more beautiful than any man in Anahuac,and also because being of the people of the Teules, the children of Quetzal ofwhom so many rumours have reached us, and whose coming my father Montezumadreads more than anything in the world, it was thought by the priests that youmay avert their anger from us, and the anger of the gods.”

Now Otomie paused as one who has something to say that she can scarcely findwords to fit, but I, remembering only what had been said, swelled inwardly withthe sense of my own greatness, and because this lovely princess had declaredthat I was the most beautiful man in Anahuac, I who though I was well-lookingenough, had never before been called “beautiful” by man, woman, orchild. But in this case as in many another, pride went before a fall.

“It must be spoken, Teule,” Otomie continued. “Alas! that itshould be I who am fated to tell you. For a year you will rule as a god in thiscity of Tenoctitlan, and except for certain ceremonies that you must undergo,and certain arts which you must learn, none will trouble you. Your slightestwish will be a law, and when you smile on any, it shall be an omen of good tothem and they will bless you; even my father Montezuma will treat you withreverence as an equal or more. Every delight shall be yours except that ofmarriage, and this will be withheld till the twelfth month of the year. Thenthe four most beautiful maidens in the land will be given to you asbrides.”

“And who will choose them?” I asked.

“Nay, I know not, Teule, who do not meddle in such mysteries,” sheanswered hurriedly. “Sometimes the god is judge and sometimes the priestsjudge for him. It is as it may chance. Listen now to the end of my tale and youwill surely forget the rest. For one month you will live with your wives, andthis month you will pass in feasting at all the noblest houses in the city. Onthe last day of the month, however, you will be placed in a royal barge andtogether with your wives, paddled across the lake to a place that is named‘Melting of Metals.’ Thence you will be led to the teocallinamed ‘House of Weapons,’ where your wives will bid farewell to youfor ever, and there, Teule, alas! that I must say it, you are doomed to beoffered as a sacrifice to the god whose spirit you hold, the great god Tezcat,for your heart will be torn from your body, and your head will be struck fromyour shoulders and set upon the stake that is known as ‘post ofheads.’”

Now when I heard this dreadful doom I groaned aloud and my knees trembled sothat I almost fell to the ground. Then a great fury seized me and, forgettingmy father’s counsel, I blasphemed the gods of that country and the peoplewho worshipped them, first in the Aztec and Maya languages, then when myknowledge of these tongues failed me, in Spanish and good English. But Otomie,who heard some of my words and guessed more, was seized with fear and liftedher hands, saying:

“Curse not the awful gods, I beseech you, lest some terrible thing befallyou at once. If you are overheard it will be thought that you have an evilspirit and not a good one, and then you must die now and by torment. At theleast the gods, who are everywhere, will hear you.”

“Let them hear,” I answered. “They are false gods and thatcountry is accursed which worships them. They are doomed I say, and all theirworshippers are doomed. Nay, I care not if I am heard—as well die now bytorment as live a year in the torment of approaching death. But I shall not diealone, all the sea of blood that your priests have shed cries out for vengeanceto the true God, and He will avenge.”

Thus I raved on, being mad with fear and impotent anger, while the princessOtomie stood terrified and amazed at my blasphemies, and the flutes piped andthe dancers danced behind us. And as I raved I saw that the mind of Otomiewandered from my words, for she was staring towards the east like one who seesa vision. Then I looked also towards the east and saw that the sky was alightthere. For from the edge of the horizon to the highest parts of heaven spread afan of pale and fearful light powdered over with sparks of fire, the handle ofthe fan resting on the earth as it were, while its wings covered the easternsky. Now I ceased my cursing and stood transfixed, and as I stood, a cry ofterror arose from all the precincts of the palace and people poured from everydoor to gaze upon the portent that flared and blazed in the east. PresentlyMontezuma himself came out, attended by his great lords, and in that ghastlylight I saw that his lips worked and his hands writhed over each other. Nor wasthe miracle done with, for anon from the clear sky that hung over the city,descended a ball of fire, which seemed to rest upon the points of the loftytemple in the great square, lighting up the teocallias with the glareof day. It vanished, but where it had been another light now burned, for thetemple of Quetzal was afire.

Now cries of fear and lamentation arose from all who beheld these wonders onthe hill of Chapoltepec and also from the city below. Even I was frightened, Ido not know why, for it may well be that the blaze of light which we saw onthat and after nights was nothing but the brightness of a comet, and that thefire in the temple was caused by a thunderbolt. But to these people, and moreespecially to Montezuma, whose mind was filled already with rumours of thecoming of a strange white race, which, as it was truly prophesied, would bringhis empire to nothingness, the omens seemed very evil. Indeed, if they had anydoubt as to their meaning, it was soon to be dispelled, in their minds atleast. For as we stood wonder-struck, a messenger, panting and soiled withtravel, arrived among us and prostrating himself before the majesty of theemperor, he drew a painted scroll from his robe and handed it to an attendantnoble. So desirous was Montezuma to know its contents, that contrary to allcustom he snatched the roll from the hands of the counsellor, and unrolling it,he began to read the picture writing by the baleful light of the blazing skyand temple. Presently, as we watched and he read, Montezuma groaned aloud, andcasting down the writing he covered his face with his hands. As it chanced itfell near to where I stood, and I saw painted over it rude pictures of ships ofthe Spanish rig, and of men in the Spanish armour. Then I understood whyMontezuma groaned. The Spaniards had landed on his shores!

Now some of his counsellors approached him to console him, but he thrust themaside, saying:

“Let me mourn—the doom that was foretold is fallen upon thechildren of Anahuac. The children of Quetzal muster on our shores and slay mypeople. Let me mourn, I say.”

At that moment another messenger came from the palace, having grief written onhis face.

“Speak,” said Montezuma.

“O king, forgive the tongue that must tell such tidings. Your royalsister Papantzin was seized with terror at yonder dreadful sight,” and hepointed to the heavens; “she lies dying in the palace!”

Now when the emperor heard that his sister whom he loved was dying, he saidnothing, but covering his face with his royal mantle, he passed slowly back tothe palace.

And all the while the crimson light gleamed and sparkled in the east like somemonstrous and unnatural dawn, while the temple of Quetzal burned fiercely inthe city beneath.

Now, I turned to the princess Otomie, who had stood by my side throughout,overcome with wonder and trembling.

“Did I not say that this country was accursed, princess of theOtomie?”

“You said it, Teule,” she answered, “and it isaccursed.”

Then we went into the palace, and even in this hour of fear, after me came theminstrels as before.

CHAPTER XVII
THE ARISING OF PAPANTZIN

On the morrow Papantzin died, and was buried with great pomp that same eveningin the burial-ground at Chapoltepec, by the side of the emperor’s royalancestors. But, as will be seen, she was not content with their company. Onthat day also, I learned that to be a god is not all pleasure, since it wasexpected of me that I must master various arts, and chiefly the horrid art ofmusic, to which I never had any desire. Still my own wishes were not allowed toweigh in the matter, for there came to me tutors, aged men who might have foundbetter employment, to instruct me in the use of the lute, and on thisinstrument I must learn to strum. Others there were also, who taught meletters, poetry, and art, as they were understood among the Aztecs, and allthis knowledge I was glad of. Still I remembered the words of the preacherwhich tell us that he who increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow, and moreoverI could see little use in acquiring learning that was to be lost shortly on thestone of sacrifice.

As to this matter of my sacrifice I was at first desperate. But reflection toldme that I had already passed many dangers and come out unscathed, and thereforeit was possible that I might escape this one also. At least death was still along way off, and for the present I was a god. So I determined that whether Idied or lived, while I lived I would live like a god and take such pleasures ascame to my hand, and I acted on this resolve. No man ever had greater or morestrange opportunities, and no man can have used them better. Indeed, had it notbeen for the sorrowful thoughts of my lost love and home which would forcethemselves upon me, I should have been almost happy, because of the power thatI wielded and the strangeness of all around me. But I must to my tale.

During the days that followed the death of Papantzin the palace and the cityalso were plunged in ferment. The minds of men were shaken strangely because ofthe rumours that filled the air. Every night the fiery portent blazed in theeast, every day a new wonder or omen was reported, and with it some wild taleof the doings of the Spaniards, who by most were held to be white gods, thechildren of Quetzal, come back to take the land which their forefather ruled.

But of all that were troubled, none were in such bad case as the emperorhimself, who, during these weeks scarcely ate or drank or slept, so heavy werehis fears upon him. In this strait he sent messengers to his ancient rival,that wise and severe man Neza, the king of the allied state of Tezcuco, beggingthat he would visit him. This king came, an old man with a fierce and gleamingeye, and I was witness to the interview that followed, for in my quality of godI had full liberty of the palace, and even to be present at the councils of theemperor and his nobles. When the two monarchs had feasted together, Montezumaspoke to Neza of the matter of the omens and of the coming of the Teules,asking him to lighten the darkness by his wisdom. Then Neza pulled his longgrey beard and answered that heavy as the heart of Montezuma might be, it mustgrow still heavier before the end.

“See, Lord,” he said, “I am so sure that the days of ourempire are numbered, that I will play you at dice for my kingdoms which you andyour forefathers have ever desired to win.”

“For what wager?” asked Montezuma.

“I will play you thus,” answered Neza. “You shall stake threefighting cocks, of which, should I win, I ask the spurs only. I set againstthem all the wide empire of Tezcuco.”

“A small stake,” said Montezuma; “cocks are many and kingdomsfew.”

“Still, it shall serve our turn,” answered the aged king,“for know that we play against fate. As the game goes, so shall the issuebe. If you win my kingdoms all is well; if I win the cocks, then good-bye tothe glory of Anahuac, for its people will cease to be a people, and strangersshall possess the land.”

“Let us play and see,” said Montezuma, and they went down to theplace that is called tlachco, where the games are set. Here they beganthe match with dice and at first all went well for Montezuma, so that he calledaloud that already he was lord of Tezcuco.

“May it be so!” answered the aged Neza, and from that moment thechance changed. For strive as he would, Montezuma could not win another point,and presently the set was finished, and Neza had won the cocks. Now the musicplayed, and courtiers came forward to give the king homage on his success. Buthe rose sighing, and said:

“I had far sooner lose my kingdoms than have won these fowls, for if Ihad lost my kingdoms they would still have passed into the hands of one of myown race. Now alas! my possessions and his must come under the hand ofstrangers, who shall cast down our gods and bring our names to nothing.”

And having spoken thus, he rose, and taking farewell of the emperor, hedeparted for his own land, where, as it chanced, he died very shortly, withoutliving to see the fulfilment of his fears.

On the morrow of his departure came further accounts of the doings of theSpaniards that plunged Montezuma into still greater alarm. In his terror hesent for an astronomer, noted throughout the land for the truth of hisdivinations. The astronomer came, and was received by the emperor privately.What he told him I do not know, but at least it was nothing pleasant, for thatvery night men were commanded to pull down the house of this sage, who wasburied in its ruins.

Two days after the death of the astronomer, Montezuma bethought him that, as hebelieved, I also was a Teule, and could give him information. So at the hour ofsunset he sent for me, bidding me walk with him in the gardens. I went thither,followed by my musicians and attendants, who would never leave me in peace, buthe commanded that all should stand aside, as he wished to speak with me alone.Then he began to walk beneath the mighty cedar trees, and I with him, butkeeping one pace behind.

“Teule,” he said at length, “tell me of your countrymen, andwhy they have come to these shores. See that you speak truth.”

“They are no countrymen of mine, O Montezuma,” I answered,“though my mother was one of them.”

“Did I not bid you speak the truth, Teule? If your mother was one ofthem, must you not also be of them; for are you not of your mother’s boneand blood?”

“As the king pleases,” I answered bowing. Then I began and told himof the Spaniards—of their country, their greatness, their cruelty andtheir greed of gold, and he listened eagerly, though I think that he believedlittle of what I said, for his fear had made him very suspicious. When I haddone, he spoke and said:

“Why do they come here to Anahuac?”

“I fear, O king, that they come to take the land, or at the least to robit of all its treasure, and to destroy its faiths.”

“What then is your counsel, Teule? How can I defend myself against thesemighty men, who are clothed in metal, and ride upon fierce wild beasts, whohave instruments that make a noise like thunder, at the sound of which theiradversaries fall dead by hundreds, and who bear weapons of shining silver intheir hands? Alas! there is no defence possible, for they are the children ofQuetzal come back to take the land. From my childhood I have known that thisevil overshadowed me, and now it is at my door.”

“If I, who am only a god, may venture to speak to the lord of theearth,” I answered, “I say that the reply is easy. Meet force byforce. The Teules are few and you can muster a thousand soldiers for every oneof theirs. Fall on them at once, do not hesitate till their prowess finds themfriends, but crush them.”

“Such is the counsel of one whose mother was a Teule;” the emperoranswered, with sarcasm and bitter meaning. “Tell me now, counsellor, howam I to know that in fighting against them I shall not be fighting against thegods; how even am I to learn the true wishes and purposes of men or gods whocannot speak my tongue and whose tongue I cannot speak?”

“It is easy, O Montezuma,” I answered. “I can speak theirtongue; send me to discover for you.”

Now as I spoke thus my heart bounded with hope, for if once I could come amongthe Spaniards, perhaps I might escape the altar of sacrifice. Also they seemeda link between me and home. They had sailed hither in ships, and ships canretrace their path. For though at present my lot was not all sorrow, it will beguessed that I should have been glad indeed to find myself once more amongChristian men.

Montezuma looked at me a while and answered:

“You must think me very foolish, Teule. What! shall I send you to tell myfears and weakness to your countrymen, and to show them the joints in myharness? Do you then suppose that I do not know you for a spy sent to this landby these same Teules to gather knowledge of the land? Fool, I knew it from thefirst, and by Huitzel! were you not vowed to Tezcat, your heart should smoketo-morrow on the altar of Huitzel. Be warned, and give me no more falsecounsels lest your end prove swifter than you think. Learn that I have askedthese questions of you to a purpose, and by the command of the gods, as it waswritten on the hearts of those sacrificed this day. This was the purpose andthis was the command, that I might discover your secret mind, and that I shouldshun whatever advice you chanced to give. You counsel me to fight the Teules,therefore I will not fight them, but meet them with gifts and fair words, for Iknow well that you would have me to do that which should bring me to mydoom.”

Thus he spoke very fiercely and in a low voice, his head held low and his armscrossed upon his breast, and I saw that he shook with passion. Even then,though I was very much afraid, for god as I was, a nod from this mighty kingwould have sent me to death by torment, I wondered at the folly of one who ineverything else was so wise. Why should he doubt me thus and allow superstitionto drag him down to ruin? To-day I see the answer. Montezuma did not thesethings of himself, but because the hand of destiny worked with his hand, andthe voice of destiny spoke in his voice. The gods of the Aztecs were false godsindeed, but I for one believe that they had life and intelligence, for thosehideous shapes of stone were the habitations of devils, and the priests spoketruth when they said that the sacrifice of men was pleasing to their gods.

To these devils the king went for counsel through the priests, and now thisdoom was on them, that they must give false counsel to their own destruction,and to the destruction of those who worshipped them, as was decreed by One morepowerful than they.

Now while we were talking the sun had sunk swiftly, so that all the world wasdark. But the light still lingered on the snowy crests of the volcans Popo andIxtac, staining them an awful red. Never before to my sight had the shape ofthe dead woman whose everlasting bier is Ixtac’s bulk, seemed so clearand wonderful as on that night, for either it was so or my fancy gave it thevery shape and colour of a woman’s corpse steeped in blood and laid outfor burial. Nor was it my phantasy alone, for when Montezuma had finishedupbraiding me he chanced to look up, and his eyes falling on the mountainremained fixed there.

“Look now, Teule!” he said, presently, with a solemn laugh;“yonder lies the corpse of the nations of Anahuac washed in a water ofblood and made ready for burial. Is she not terrible in death?”

As he spoke the words and turned to go, a sound of doleful wailing came fromthe direction of the mountain, a very wild and unearthly sound that caused theblood in my veins to stand still. Now Montezuma caught my arm in his fear, andwe gazed together on Ixtac, and it seemed to us that this wonder happened. Forin that red and fearful light the red figure of the sleeping woman arose, orappeared to rise, from its bier of stone. It arose slowly like one who awakesfrom sleep, and presently it stood upright upon the mountain’s brow,towering high into the air. There it stood a giant and awakened corpse, itswhite wrappings stained with blood, and we trembled to see it.

For a while the wraith remained thus gazing towards the city of Tenoctitlan,then suddenly it threw its vast arms upward as though in grief, and at thatmoment the night rushed in upon it and covered it, while the sound of wailingdied slowly away.

“Say, Teule,” gasped the emperor, “do I not well to be afraidwhen such portents as these meet my eyes day by day? Hearken to thelamentations in the city; we have not seen this sight alone. Listen how thepeople cry aloud with fear and the priests beat their drums to avert the omen.Weep on, ye people, and ye priests pray and do sacrifice; it is very fitting,for the day of your doom is upon you. O Tenoctitlan, queen of cities, I see youruined and desolate, your palaces blackened with fire, your temples desecrated,your pleasant gardens a wilderness. I see your highborn women the wantons ofstranger lords, and your princes their servants; the canals run red with theblood of your children, your gateways are blocked with their bones. Death isabout you everywhere, dishonour is your daily bread, desolation is yourportion. Farewell to you, queen of the cities, cradle of my forefathers inwhich I was nursed!”

Thus Montezuma lamented in the darkness, and as he cried aloud the great moonrose over the edge of the world and poured its level light through the boughsof the cedars clothed in their ghostly robe of moss. It struck uponMontezuma’s tall shape, on his distraught countenance and thin hands ashe waved them to and fro in his prophetic agony, on my glittering garments, andthe terror-stricken band of courtiers, and the musicians who had ceased fromtheir music. A little wind sprang up also, moaning sadly in the mighty treesabove and against the rocks of Chapoltepec. Never did I witness a scene morestrange or more pregnant with mystery and the promise of unborn horror, thanthat of this great monarch mourning over the downfall of his race and power. Asyet no misfortune had befallen the one or the other, and still he knew thatboth were doomed, and these words of lamentation burst from a heart broken by agrief of which the shadow only lay upon it.

But the wonders of that night were not yet done with.

When Montezuma had made an end of crying his prophecies, I asked him humbly ifI should summon to him the lords who were in attendance on him, but who stoodat some distance.

“Nay,” he answered, “I will not have them see me thus withgrief and terror upon my face. Whoever fears, at least I must seem brave. Walkwith me a while, Teule, and if it is in your mind to murder me I shall notgrieve.”

I made no answer, but followed him as he led the way down the darkest of thewinding paths that run between the cedar trees, where it would have been easyfor me to kill him if I wished, but I could not see how I should be advantagedby the deed; also though I knew that Montezuma was my enemy, my heart shrankfrom the thought of murder. For a mile or more he walked on without speaking,now beneath the shadow of the trees, and now through open spaces of gardenplanted with lovely flowers, till at last we came to the gates of the placewhere the royal dead are laid to rest. Now in front of these gates was an openspace of turf on which the moonlight shone brightly, and in the centre of thisspace lay something white, shaped like a woman. Here Montezuma halted andlooked at the gates, then said:

“These gates opened four days since for Papantzin, my sister; how long, Iwonder, will pass before they open for me?”

As he spoke, the white shape upon the grass which I had seen and he had notseen, stirred like an awakening sleeper. As the snow shape upon the mountainhad stirred, so this shape stirred; as it had arisen, so this one arose; as itthrew its arms upwards, so this one threw up her arms. Now Montezuma saw andstood still trembling, and I trembled also.

Then the woman—for it was a woman—advanced slowly towards us, andas she came we saw that she was draped in graveclothes. Presently she liftedher head and the moonlight fell full upon her face. Now Montezuma groaned aloudand I groaned, for we saw that the face was the thin pale face of the princessPapantzin—Papantzin who had lain four days in the grave. On she cametoward us, gliding like one who walks in her sleep, till she stopped before thebush in the shadow of which we stood. Now Papantzin, or the ghost of Papantzin,looked at us with blind eyes, that is with eyes that were open and yet did notseem to see.

“Are you there, Montezuma, my brother?” she said in the voice ofPapantzin; “surely I feel your presence though I cannot see you.”

Now Montezuma stepped from the shadow and stood face to face with the dead.

“Who are you?” he said, “who wear the shape of one dead andare dressed in the garments of the dead?”

“I am Papantzin,” she answered, “and I am risen out of deathto bring you a message, Montezuma, my brother.”

“What message do you bring me?” he asked hoarsely.

“I bring you a message of doom, my brother. Your empire shall fall andsoon you shall be accompanied to death by tens of thousands of your people. Forfour days I have lived among the dead, and there I have seen your false godswhich are devils. There also I have seen the priests that served them, and manyof those who worshipped them plunged into torment unutterable. Because of theworship of these demon gods the people of Anahuac is destined todestruction.”

“Have you no word of comfort for me, Papantzin, my sister?” heasked.

“None,” she answered. “Perchance if you abandon the worshipof the false gods you may save your soul; your life you cannot save, nor thelives of your people.”

Then she turned and passed away into the shadow of the trees; I heard hergraveclothes sweep upon the grass.

Now a fury seized Montezuma and he raved aloud, saying:

“Curses on you, Papantzin, my sister! Why then do you come back from thedead to bring me such evil tidings? Had you brought hope with you, had youshown a way of escape, then I would have welcomed you. May you go back intodarkness and may the earth lie heavy on your heart for ever. As for my gods, myfathers worshipped them and I will worship them till the end; ay, if theydesert me, at least I will never desert them. The gods are angry because thesacrifices are few upon their altars, henceforth they shall be doubled; ay, thepriests of the gods shall themselves be sacrificed because they neglect theirworship.”

Thus he raved on, after the fashion of a weak man maddened with terror, whilehis nobles and attendants who had followed him at a distance, clustered abouthim, fearful and wondering. At length there came an end, for tearing with histhin hands at his royal robes and at his hair and beard, Montezuma fell andwrithed in a fit upon the ground.

Then they carried him into the palace and none saw him for three days andnights. But he made no idle threat as to the sacrifices, for from that nightforward they were doubled throughout the land. Already the shadow of the Crosslay deep upon the altars of Anahuac, but still the smoke of their offeringswent up to heaven and the cry of the captives rang round the teocallis.The hour of the demon gods was upon them indeed, but now they reaped their lastred harvest, and it was rich.

Now I, Thomas Wingfield, saw these portents with my own eyes, but I cannot saywhether they were indeed warnings sent from heaven or illusions springing fromthe accidents of nature. The land was terror-struck, and it may happen that theminds of men thus smitten can find a dismal meaning in omens which otherwisehad passed unnoticed. That Papantzin rose from the dead is true, though perhapsshe only swooned and never really died. At the least she did not go back therefor a while, for though I never saw her again, it is said that she lived tobecome a Christian and told strange tales of what she had seen in the land ofDeath.^[6]

[6]For the history of the resurrection of Papantzin, see note toJourdanet’stranslation of Sahagun, page870.—AUTHOR.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE NAMING OF THE BRIDES

Now some months passed between the date of my naming as the god Tezcat and theentry of the Spaniards into Mexico, and during all this space the city was in astate of ferment. Again and again Montezuma sent embassies to Cortes, bearingwith them vast treasures of gold and gems as presents, and at the same timepraying him to withdraw, for this foolish prince did not understand that bydisplaying so much wealth he flew a lure which must surely bring the falcon onhimself. To these ambassadors Cortes returned courteous answers together withpresents of small value, and that was all.

Then the advance began and the emperor learned with dismay of the conquest ofthe warlike tribe of the Tlascalans, who, though they were Montezuma’sbitter and hereditary foes, yet made a stand against the white man. Next camethe tidings that from enemies the conquered Tlascalans had become the alliesand servants of the Spaniard, and that thousands of their fiercest warriorswere advancing with him upon the sacred city of Cholula. A while passed and itwas known that Cholula also had been given to massacre, and that the holy, orrather the unholy gods, had been torn from their shrines. Marvellous tales weretold of the Spaniards, of their courage and their might, of the armour thatthey wore, the thunder that their weapons made in battle, and the fierce beastswhich they bestrode. Once two heads of white men taken in a skirmish were sentto Montezuma, fierce-looking heads, great and hairy, and with them the head ofa horse. When Montezuma saw these ghastly relics he almost fainted with fear,still he caused them to be set up on pinnacles of the great temple andproclamation to be made that this fate awaited every invader of the land.

Meanwhile all was confusion in his policies. Day by day councils were held ofthe nobles, of high priests, and of neighbouring and friendly kings. Someadvised one thing, some another, and the end of it was hesitation and folly.Ah! had Montezuma but listened to the voice of that great man Guatemoc, Anahuacwould not have been a Spanish fief to-day. For Guatemoc prayed him again andyet again to put away his fears and declare open war upon the Teules before itwas too late; to cease from making gifts and sending embassies, to gather hiscountless armies and smite the foe in the mountain passes.

But Montezuma would answer, “To what end, nephew? How can I struggleagainst these men when the gods themselves have declared for them? Surely thegods can take their own parts if they wish it, and if they will not, for myselfand my own fate I do not care, but alas! for my people, alas! for the women andthe children, the aged and the weak.”

Then he would cover his face and moan and weep like a child, and Guatemoc wouldpass from his presence dumb with fury at the folly of so great a king, buthelpless to remedy it. For like myself, Guatemoc believed that Montezuma hadbeen smitten with a madness sent from heaven to bring the land to ruin.

Now it must be understood that though my place as a god gave me opportunitiesof knowing all that passed, yet I, Thomas Wingfield, was but a bubble on thatgreat wave of events which swept over the world of Anahuac two generationssince. I was a bubble on the crest of the wave indeed, but at that time I hadno more power than the foam has over the wave. Montezuma distrusted me as aspy, the priests looked on me as a god and future victim and no more, onlyGuatemoc my friend, and Otomie who loved me secretly, had any faith in me, andwith these two I often talked, showing them the true meaning of those thingsthat were happening before our eyes. But they also were strengthless, forthough his reason was no longer captain, still the unchecked power of Montezumaguided the ship of state first this way and then that, just as a rudder directsa vessel to its ruin when the helmsman has left it, and it swings at the mercyof the wind and tide.

The people were distraught with fear of the future, but not the less on thataccount, or perhaps because of it, they plunged with fervour into pleasures,alternating them with religious ceremonies. In those days no feast wasneglected and no altar lacked its victim. Like a river that quickens its flowas it draws near the precipice over which it must fall, so the people ofMexico, foreseeing ruin, awoke as it were and lived as they had never livedbefore. All day long the cries of victims came from a hundred temple tops, andall night the sounds of revelry were heard among the streets. “Let us eatand drink,” they said, “for the gods of the sea are upon us andto-morrow we die.” Now women who had been held virtuous proved themselveswantons, and men whose names were honest showed themselves knaves, and nonecried fie upon them; ay, even children were seen drunken in the streets, whichis an abomination among the Aztecs.

The emperor had moved his household from Chapoltepec to the palace in the greatsquare facing the temple, and this palace was a town in itself, for every nightmore than a thousand human beings slept beneath its roof, not to speak of thedwarfs and monsters, and the hundreds of wild birds and beasts in cages. Hereevery day I feasted with whom I would, and when I was weary of feasting it wasmy custom to sally out into the streets playing on the lute, for by now I hadin some degree mastered that hateful instrument, dressed in shining apparel andattended by a crowd of nobles and royal pages. Then the people would rush fromtheir houses shouting and doing me reverence, the children pelted me withflowers, and the maidens danced before me, kissing my hands and feet, till atlength I was attended by a mob a thousand strong. And I also danced and shoutedlike any village fool, for I think that a kind of mad humour, or perhaps it wasthe drunkenness of worship, entered into me in those days. Also I sought toforget my griefs, I desired to forget that I was doomed to the sacrifice, andthat every day brought me nearer to the red knife of the priest.

I desired to forget, but alas! I could not. The fumes of the mescalandthe pulquethat I had drunk at feasts would pass from my brain, theperfume of flowers, the sights of beauty and the adoration of the people wouldcease to move me, and I could only brood heavily upon my doom and think withlonging of my distant love and home. In those days, had it not been for thetender kindness of Otomie, I think that my heart would have broken or I shouldhave slain myself. But this great and beauteous lady was ever at hand to cheerme in a thousand ways, and now and again she would let fall some vague words ofhope that set my pulses bounding. It will be remembered that when first I cameto the court of Montezuma, I had found Otomie fair and my fancy turned towardsher. Now I still found her fair, but my heart was so full of terror that therewas no room in it for tender thoughts of her or of any other woman. Indeed whenI was not drunk with wine or adoration, I turned my mind to the making of mypeace with heaven, of which I had some need.

Still I talked much with Otomie, instructing her in the matters of my faith andmany other things, as I had done by Marina, who we now heard was the mistressand interpreter of Cortes, the Spanish leader. She for her part listenedgravely, watching me the while with her tender eyes, but no more, for of allwomen Otomie was the most modest, as she was the proudest and most beautiful.

So matters went on until the Spaniards had left Cholula on their road toMexico. It was then that I chanced one morning to be sitting in the gardens, mylute in hand, and having my attendant nobles and tutors gathered at arespectful distance behind me. From where I sat I could see the entrance to thecourt in which the emperor met his council daily, and I noted that when theprinces had gone the priests began to come, and after them a number of verylovely girls attended by women of middle age. Presently Guatemoc the prince,who now smiled but rarely, came up to me smiling, and asked me if I knew whatwas doing yonder. I replied that I knew nothing and cared less, but I supposedthat Montezuma was gathering a peculiar treasure to send to his masters theSpaniards.

“Beware how you speak, Teule,” answered the prince haughtily.“Your words may be true, and yet did I not love you, you should rue themeven though you hold the spirit of Tezcat. Alas!” he added, stamping onthe ground, “alas! that my uncle’s madness should make it possiblethat such words can be spoken. Oh! were I emperor of Anahuac, in a single weekthe head of every Teule in Cholula should deck a pinnacle of yondertemple.”

“Beware how you speak, prince,” I answered mocking him, “forthere are those who did they hear, might cause youto rue yourwords. Still one day you may be emperor, and then we shall see how you willdeal with the Teules, at least others will see though I shall not. But what isit now? Does Montezuma choose new wives?”

“He chooses wives, but not for himself. You know, Teule, that your timegrows short. Montezuma and the priests name those who must be given to you towife.”

“Given me to wife!” I said starting to my feet; “to me whosebride is death! What have I to do with love or marriage? I who in some fewshort weeks must grace an altar? Ah! Guatemoc, you say you love me, and once Isaved you. Did you love me, surely you would save me now as you swore todo.”

“I swore that I would give my life for yours, Teule, if it lay in mypower, and that oath I would keep, for all do not set so high a store on lifeas you, my friend. But I cannot help you; you are dedicated to the gods, anddid I die a hundred times, it would not save you from your fate. Nothing cansave you except the hand of heaven if it wills. Therefore, Teule, make merrywhile you may, and die bravely when you must. Your case is no worse than mineand that of many others, for death awaits us all. Farewell.”

When he had gone I rose, and leaving the gardens I passed into the chamberwhere it was my custom to give audience to those who wished to look upon thegod Tezcat as they called me. Here I sat upon my golden couch, inhaling thefumes of tobacco, and as it chanced I was alone, for none dared to enter thatroom unless I gave them leave. Presently the chief of my pages announced thatone would speak with me, and I bent my head, signifying that the person shouldenter, for I was weary of my thoughts. The page withdrew, and presently aveiled woman stood before me. I looked at her wondering, and bade her draw herveil and speak. She obeyed, and I saw that my visitor was the princess Otomie.Now I rose amazed, for it was not usual that she should visit me thus alone. Iguessed therefore that she had tidings, or was following some custom of which Iwas ignorant.

“I pray you be seated,” she said confusedly; “it is notfitting that you should stand before me.”

“Why not, princess?” I answered. “If I had no respect forrank, surely beauty must claim it.”

“A truce to words,” she replied with a wave of her slim hand.“I come here, O Tezcat, according to the ancient custom, because I amcharged with a message to you. Those whom you shall wed are chosen. I am thebearer of their names.”

“Speak on, princess of the Otomie.”

“They are”—and she named three ladies whom I knew to be amongthe loveliest in the land.

“I thought that there were four,” I said with a bitter laugh.“Am I to be defrauded of the fourth?”

“There is a fourth,” she answered, and was silent.

“Give me her name,” I cried. “What other slut has been foundto marry a felon doomed to sacrifice?”

“One has been found, O Tezcat, who has borne other titles than this yougive her.”

Now I looked at her questioningly, and she spoke again in a low voice.

“I, Otomie, princess of the Otomie, Montezuma’s daughter, am thefourth and the first.”

“You!” I said, sinking back upon my cushions.“You!”

“Yes, I. Listen: I was chosen by the priests as the most lovely in theland, however unworthily. My father, the emperor, was angry and said thatwhatever befell, I should never be the wife of a captive who must die upon thealtar of sacrifice. But the priests answered that this was no time for him toclaim exception for his blood, now when the gods were wroth. Was the first ladyin the land to be withheld from the god? they asked. Then my father sighed andsaid that it should be as I willed. And I said with the priests, that now inour sore distress the proud must humble themselves to the dust, even to themarrying of a captive slave who is named a god and doomed to sacrifice. So I,princess of the Otomie, have consented to become your wife, O Tezcat, thoughperchance had I known all that I read in your eyes this hour, I should not haveconsented. It may happen that in this shame I hoped to find love if only forone short hour, and that I purposed to vary the custom of our people, and tocomplete my marriage by the side of the victim on the altar, as, if I will, Ihave the right to do. But I see well that I am not welcome, and though it istoo late to go back upon my word, have no fear. There are others, and I shallnot trouble you. I have given my message, is it your pleasure that I should go?The solemn ceremony of wedlock will be on the twelfth day from now, OTezcat.”

Now I rose from my seat and took her hand, saying:

“I thank you, Otomie, for your nobleness of mind. Had it not been for thecomfort and friendship which you and Guatemoc your cousin have given me, Ithink that ere now I should be dead. So you desire to comfort me to the last;it seems that you even purposed to die with me. How am I to interpret this,Otomie? In our land a woman would need to love a man after no common fashionbefore she consented to share such a bed as awaits me on yonder pyramid. Andyet I may scarcely think that you whom kings have sued for can place your heartso low. How am I to read the writing of your words, princess of theOtomie?”

“Read it with your heart,” she whispered low, and I felt her handtremble in my own.

I looked at her beauty, it was great; I thought of her devotion, a devotionthat did not shrink from the most horrible of deaths, and a wind of feelingwhich was akin to love swept through my soul. But even as I looked and thought,I remembered the English garden and the English maid from whom I had partedbeneath the beech at Ditchingham, and the words that we had spoken then.Doubtless she still lived and was true to me; while I lived should I not keeptrue at heart to her? If I must wed these Indian girls, I must wed them, but ifonce I told Otomie that I loved her, then I broke my troth, and with nothingless would she be satisfied. As yet, though I was deeply moved and thetemptation was great, I had not come to this.

“Be seated, Otomie,” I said, “and listen to me. You see thisgolden token,” and I drew Lily’s posy ring from my hand, “andyou see the writing within it.”

She bent her head but did not speak, and I saw that there was fear in her eyes.

“I will read you the words, Otomie,” and I translated into theAztec tongue the quaint couplet:

Heart to heart,
Though far apart.

Then at last she spoke. “What does the writing mean?” she said.“I can only read in pictures, Teule.”

“It means, Otomie, that in the far land whence I come, there is a womanwho loves me, and who is my love.”

“Is she your wife then?”

“She is not my wife, Otomie, but she is vowed to me in marriage.”

“She is vowed to you in marriage,” she answered bitterly:“why, then we are equal, for so am I, Teule. But there is this differencebetween us; you love her, and me you do not love. That is what you would makeclear to me. Spare me more words, I understand all. Still it seems that if Ihave lost, she is also in the path of loss. Great seas roll between you andthis love of yours, Teule, seas of water, and the altar of sacrifice, and thenothingness of death. Now let me go. Your wife I must be, for there is noescape, but I shall not trouble you over much, and it will soon be done with.Then you may seek your desire in the Houses of the Stars whither you mustwander, and it is my prayer that you shall win it. All these months I have beenplanning to find hope for you, and I thought that I had found it. But it wasbuilt upon a false belief, and it is ended. Had you been able to say from yourheart that you loved me, it might have been well for both of us; should you beable to say it before the end, it may still be well. But I do not ask you tosay it, and beware how you tell me a lie. I leave you, Teule, but before I go Iwill say that I honour you more in this hour than I have honoured you before,because you have dared to speak the truth to me, Montezuma’s daughter,when a lie had been so easy and so safe. That woman beyond the seas should begrateful to you, but though I bear her no ill will, between me and her there isa struggle to the death. We are strangers to each other, and strangers we shallremain, but she has touched your hand as I touch it now; you link us togetherand are our bond of enmity. Farewell my husband that is to be. We shall meet nomore till that sorry day when a ‘slut’ shall be given to a‘felon’ in marriage. I use your own words, Teule!”

Then rising, Otomie cast her veil about her face and passed slowly from thechamber, leaving me much disturbed. It was a bold deed to have rejected theproffered love of this queen among women, and now that I had done so I was notaltogether glad. Would Lily, I wondered, have offered to descend from suchstate, to cast off the purple of her royal rank that she might lie at my sideon the red stone of sacrifice? Perhaps not, for this fierce fidelity is only tobe found in women of another breed. These daughters of the Sun love wholly whenthey love at all, and as they love they hate. They ask no priest to consecratetheir vows, nor if these become hateful, will they be bound by them forduty’s sake. Their own desire is their law, but while it rules them theyfollow it unflinchingly, and if need be, they seek its consummation in thegates of death, or failing that, forgetfulness.

CHAPTER XIX
THE FOUR GODDESSES

Some weary time went by, and at last came the day of the entry into Mexico ofCortes and his conquerors. Now of all the doings of the Spaniards after theyoccupied the city, I do not propose to speak at length, for these are mattersof history, and I have my own story to tell. So I shall only write of those ofthem with which I was concerned myself. I did not see the meeting betweenMontezuma and Cortes, though I saw the emperor set out to it clad like Solomonin his glory and surrounded by his nobles. But I am sure of this, that no slavebeing led to sacrifice carried a heavier heart in his breast than that ofMontezuma on this unlucky day. For now his folly had ruined him, and I think heknew that he was going to his doom.

Afterwards, towards evening, I saw the emperor come back in his golden litter,and pass over to the palace built by Axa his father, that stood opposite to andsome five hundred paces from his own, facing the western gate of the temple.Presently I heard the sound of a multitude shouting, and amidst it the tramp ofhorses and armed soldiers, and from a seat in my chamber I saw the Spaniardsadvance down the great street, and my heart beat at the sight of Christian men.In front, clad in rich armour, rode their leader Cortes, a man of middle sizebut noble bearing, with thoughtful eyes that noted everything, and after him,some few on horseback but the most of them on foot, marched his little army ofconquerors, staring about them with bold wondering eyes and jesting to eachother in Castilian. They were but a handful, bronzed with the sun and scarredby battle, some of them ill-armed and almost in rags, and looking on them Icould not but marvel at the indomitable courage that had enabled them to piercetheir way through hostile thousands, sickness, and war, even to the home ofMontezuma’s power.

By the side of Cortes, holding his stirrup in her hand, walked a beautifulIndian woman dressed in white robes and crowned with flowers. As she passed thepalace she turned her face. I knew her at once; it was my friend Marina, whonow had attained to the greatness which she desired, and who, notwithstandingall the evil that she had brought upon her country, looked most happy in it andin her master’s love.

As the Spaniards went by I searched their faces one by one, with the vague hopeof hate. For though it might well chance that death had put us out of eachother’s reach, I half thought to see de Garcia among the number of theconquerors. Such a quest as theirs, with its promise of blood, and gold, andrapine, would certainly commend itself to his evil heart should it be in hispower to join it, and a strange instinct told me that he was notdead.But neither dead nor living was he among those men who entered Mexico that day.

That night I saw Guatemoc and asked him how things went.

“Well for the kite that roosts in the dove’s nest,” heanswered with a bitter laugh, “but very ill for the dove. Montezuma, myuncle, has been cooing yonder,” and he pointed to the palace of Axa,“and the captain of the Teules has cooed in answer, but though he triedto hide it, I could hear the hawk’s shriek in his pigeon’s note.Ere long there will be merry doings in Tenoctitlan.”

He was right. Within a week Montezuma was treacherously seized by the Spaniardsand kept a prisoner in their quarters, watched day and night by their soldiers.Then came event upon event. Certain lords in the coast lands having killed someSpaniards, were summoned to Mexico by the instigation of Cortes. They came andwere burned alive in the courtyard of the palace. Nor was this all, forMontezuma, their monarch, was forced to witness the execution with fetters onhis ankles. So low had the emperor of the Aztecs fallen, that he must bearchains like a common felon. After this insult he swore allegiance to the Kingof Spain, and even contrived to capture Cacama, the lord of Tezcuco, bytreachery and to deliver him into the hands of the Spaniards on whom he wouldhave made war. To them also he gave up all the hoarded gold and treasure of theempire, to the value of hundreds of thousands of English pounds. All this thenation bore, for it was stupefied and still obeyed the commands of its captiveking. But when he suffered the Spaniards to worship the true God in one of thesanctuaries of the great temple, a murmur of discontent and sullen fury roseamong the thousands of the Aztecs. It filled the air, it could be heardwherever men were gathered, and its sound was like that of a distant angry sea.The hour of the breaking of the tempest was at hand.

Now all this while my life went on as before, save that I was not allowed to gooutside the walls of the palace, for it was feared lest I should find somemeans of intercourse with the Spaniards, who did not know that a man of whiteblood was confined there and doomed to sacrifice. Also in these days I sawlittle of the princess Otomie, the chief of my destined brides, who since ourstrange love scene had avoided me, and when we met at feasts or in the gardensspoke to me only on indifferent matters, or of the affairs of state. At lengthcame the day of my marriage. It was, I remember, the night before the massacreof the six hundred Aztec nobles on the occasion of the festival of Huitzel.

On this my wedding day I was treated with great circumstance and worshippedlike a god by the highest in the city, who came in to do me reverence andburned incense before me, till I was weary of the smell of it, for though suchsorrow was on the land, the priests would abate no jot of their ceremonies orcruelties, and great hopes were held that I being of the race of Teules, mysacrifice would avert the anger of the gods. At sunset I was entertained with asplendid feast that lasted two hours or more, and at its end all the companyrose and shouted as with one voice:

“Glory to thee, O Tezcat! Happy art thou here on earth, happy mayst thoube in the Houses of the Sun. When thou comest thither, remember that we dealtwell by thee, giving thee of our best, and intercede for us that our sins maybe forgiven. Glory to thee, O Tezcat!”

Then two of the chief nobles came forward, and taking torches led me to amagnificent chamber that I had never seen before. Here they changed my apparel,investing me in robes which were still more splendid than any that I had wornhitherto, being made of the finest embroidered cotton and of the glitteringfeathers of the humming bird. On my head they set wreaths of flowers, and aboutmy neck and wrists emeralds of vast size and value, and a sorry popinjay Ilooked in this attire, that seemed more suited to a woman’s beauty thanto me.

When I was arrayed, suddenly the torches were extinguished and for a whilethere was silence. Then in the distance I heard women’s voices singing abridal song that was beautiful enough after its fashion, though I forbear towrite it down. The singing ceased and there came a sound of rustling robes andof low whispering. Then a man’s voice spoke, saying:

“Are ye there, ye chosen of heaven?”

And a woman’s voice, I thought it was that of Otomie, answered:

“We are here.”

“O maidens of Anahuac,” said the man speaking from the darkness,“and you, O Tezcat, god among the gods, listen to my words. Maidens, agreat honour has been done to you, for by the very choice of heaven, you havebeen endowed with the names, the lovelinesses, and the virtues of the fourgreat goddesses, and chosen to abide a while at the side of this god, yourmaker and your master, who has been pleased to visit us for a space before heseeks his home in the habitations of the Sun. See that you show yourselvesworthy of this honour. Comfort him and cherish him, that he may forget hisglory in your kindness, and when he returns to his own place may take with himgrateful memories and a good report of your people. You have but a little whileto live at his side in this life, for already, like those of a caged bird, thewings of his spirit beat against the bars of the flesh, and soon he will shakehimself free from us and you. Yet if you will, it is allowed to one of you toaccompany him to his home, sharing his flight to the Houses of the Sun. But toall of you, whether you go also, or whether you stay to mourn him during yourlife days, I say love and cherish him, be tender and gentle towards him, forotherwise ruin shall overtake you here and hereafter, and you and all of uswill be ill spoken of in heaven. And you, O Tezcat, we pray of you to acceptthese maidens, who bear the names and wear the charms of your celestialconsorts, for there are none more beautiful or better born in the realms ofAnahuac, and among them is numbered the daughter of our king. They are notperfect indeed, for perfection is known to you in the heavenly kingdoms only,since these ladies are but shadows and symbols of the divine goddesses yourtrue wives, and here there are no perfect women. Alas, we have none better tooffer you, and it is our hope that when it pleases you to pass hence you willthink kindly of the women of this land, and from on high bless them with yourblessing, because your memory of these who were called your wives on earth ispleasant.”

The voice paused, then spoke again:

“Women, in your own divine names of Xochi, Xilo, Atla, and Clixto, and inthe name of all the gods, I wed you to Tezcat, the creator, to sojourn with himduring his stay on earth. The god incarnate takes you in marriage whom hehimself created, that the symbol may be perfect and the mystery fulfilled. Yetlest your joy should be too full—look now on that which shall be.”

As the voice spoke these words, many torches sprang into flame at the far endof the great chamber, revealing a dreadful sight. For there, stretched upon astone of sacrifice, was the body of a man, but whether the man lived or wasmodelled in wax I do not know to this hour, though unless he was painted, Ithink that he must have been fashioned in wax, since his skin shone white likemine. At the least his limbs and head were held by five priests, and a sixthstood over him clasping a knife of obsidian in his two hands. It flashed onhigh, and as it gleamed the torches were extinguished. Then came the dull echoof a blow and a sound of groans, and all was still, till once more the bridesbroke out into their marriage song, a strange chant and a wild and sweet,though after what I had seen and heard it had little power to move me.

They sang on in the darkness ever more loudly, till presently a single torchwas lit at the end of the chamber, then another and another, though I could notsee who lit them, and the room was a flare of light. Now the altar, the victim,and the priests were all gone, there was no one left in the place except myselfand the four brides. They were tall and lovely women all of them, clad in whitebridal robes starred over with gems and flowers, and wearing on their brows theemblems of the four goddesses, but Otomie was the stateliest and most beautifulof the four, and seemed in truth a goddess. One by one they drew near to me,smiling and sighing, and kneeling before me kissed my hand, saying:

“I have been chosen to be your wife for a space, Tezcat, happy maid thatI am. May the good gods grant that I become pleasing to your sight, so that youmay love me as I worship you.”

Then she who had spoken would draw back again out of earshot, and the nextwould take her place.

Last of all came Otomie. She knelt and said the words, then added in a lowvoice,

“Having spoken to you as the bride and goddess to the husband and the godTezcat, now, O Teule, I speak as the woman to the man. You do not love me,Teule, therefore, if it is your will, let us be divorced of our own act whowere wed by the command of others, for so I shall be spared some shame. Theseare friends to me and will not betray us;” and she nodded towards hercompanion brides.

“As you will, Otomie,” I answered briefly.

“I thank you for your kindness, Teule,” she said smiling sadly, andwithdrew making obeisance, looking so stately and so sweet as she went, thatagain my heart was shaken as though with love. Now from that night till thedreadful hour of sacrifice, no kiss or tender word passed between me and theprincess of the Otomie. And yet our friendship and affection grew daily, for wetalked much together, and I sought to turn her heart to the true King ofHeaven. But this was not easy, for like her father Montezuma, Otomie clung tothe gods of her people, though she hated the priests, and save when the victimswere the foes of her country, shrank from the rites of human sacrifice, whichshe said were instituted by the pabas, since in the early days therewere no men offered on the altars of the gods, but flowers only. Daily it grewand ripened till, although I scarcely knew it, at length in my heart, afterLily, I loved her better than anyone on earth. As for the other women, thoughthey were gentle and beautiful, I soon learned to hate them. Still I feastedand revelled with them, partly since I must, or bring them to a miserable deathbecause they failed to please me, and partly that I might drown my terrors indrink and pleasure, for let it be remembered that the days left to me on earthwere few, and the awful end drew near.

The day following the celebration of my marriage was that of the shamelessmassacre of six hundred of the Aztec nobles by the order of the hidalgoAlvarado, whom Cortes had left in command of the Spaniards. For at this timeCortes was absent in the coast lands, whither he had gone to make war onNarvaez, who had been sent to subdue him by his enemy Velasquez, the governorof Cuba.

On this day was celebrated the feast of Huitzel, that was held with sacrifice,songs, and dances in the great court of the temple, that court which wassurrounded by a wall carved over with the writhing shapes of snakes. It chancedthat on this morning before he went to join in the festival, Guatemoc, theprince, came to see me on a visit of ceremony.

I asked him if he intended to take part in the feast, as the splendour of hisapparel brought me to believe.

“Yes,” he answered, “but why do you ask?”

“Because, were I you, Guatemoc, I would not go. Say now, will the dancersbe armed?”

“No, it is not usual.”

“They will be unarmed, Guatemoc, and they are the flower of the land.Unarmed they will dance in yonder enclosed space, and the Teules will watchthem armed. Now, how would it be if these chanced to pick a quarrel with thenobles?”

“I do not know why you should speak thus, Teule, for surely these whitemen are not cowardly murderers, still I take your words as an omen, and thoughthe feast must be held, for see already the nobles gather, I will not share init.”

“You are wise, Guatemoc,” I said. “I am sure that you arewise.”

Afterwards Otomie, Guatemoc, and I went into the garden of the palace and satupon the crest of a small pyramid, a teocalliin miniature thatMontezuma had built for a place of outlook on the market and the courts of thetemple. From this spot we saw the dancing of the Aztec nobles, and heard thesong of the musicians. It was a gay sight, for in the bright sunlight theirfeather dresses flashed like coats of gems, and none would have guessed how itwas to end. Mingling with the dancers were groups of Spaniards clad in mail andarmed with swords and matchlocks, but I noted that, as the time went on, thesemen separated themselves from the Indians and began to cluster like bees aboutthe gates and at various points under the shadow of the Wall of Serpents.

“Now what may this mean?” I said to Guatemoc, and as I spoke, I sawa Spaniard wave a white cloth in the air. Then, in an instant, before the clothhad ceased to flutter, a smoke arose from every side, and with it came thesound of the firing of matchlocks. Everywhere among the dancers men fell deador wounded, but the mass of them, unharmed as yet, huddled themselves togetherlike frightened sheep, and stood silent and terror-stricken. Then theSpaniards, shouting the name of their patron saint, as it is their custom to dowhen they have some such wickedness in hand, drew their swords, and rushing onthe unarmed Aztec nobles began to kill them. Now some shrieked and fled, andsome stood still till they were cut down, but whether they stayed or ran theend was the same, for the gates were guarded and the wall was too high toclimb. There they were slaughtered every man of them, and may God, who seesall, reward their murderers! It was soon over; within ten minutes of the wavingof the cloth, those six hundred men were stretched upon the pavement dead ordying, and with shouts of victory the Spaniards were despoiling their corpsesof the rich ornaments they had worn.

Then I turned to Guatemoc and said, “It seems that you did well not tojoin in yonder revel.”

But Guatemoc made no answer. He stared at the dead and those who had murderedthem, and said nothing. Only Otomie spoke: “You Christians are a gentlepeople,” she said with a bitter laugh; “it is thus that you repayour hospitality. Now I trust that Montezuma, my father, is pleased with hisguests. Ah! were I he, every man of them should lie on the stone of sacrifice.If our gods are devils as you say, what are those who worship yours?”

Then at length Guatemoc said, “Only one thing remains to us, and that isvengeance. Montezuma has become a woman, and I heed him no more, nay, if itwere needful, I would kill him with my own hand. But two men are still left inthe land, Cuitlahua, my uncle, and myself. Now I go to summon ourarmies.” And he went.

All that night the city murmured like a swarm of wasps, and next day at dawn,so far as the eye could reach, the streets and market place were filled withtens of thousands of armed warriors. They threw themselves like a wave upon thewalls of the palace of Axa, and like a wave from a rock they were driven backagain by the fire of the guns. Thrice they attacked, and thrice they wererepulsed. Then Montezuma, the woman king, appeared upon the walls, praying themto desist because, forsooth, did they succeed, he himself might perish. Eventhen they obeyed him, so great was their reverence for his sacred royalty, andfor a while attacked the Spaniards no more. But further than this they wouldnot go. If Montezuma forbade them to kill the Spaniards, at least theydetermined to starve them out, and from that hour a strait blockade was kept upagainst the palace. Hundreds of the Aztec soldiers had been slain already, butthe loss was not all upon their side, for some of the Spaniards and many of theTlascalans had fallen into their hands. As for these unlucky prisoners, theirend was swift, for they were taken at once to the temples of the greatteocalli, and sacrificed there to the gods in the sight of theircomrades.

Now it was that Cortes returned with many more men, for he had conqueredNarvaez, whose followers joined the standard of Cortes, and with them others,one of whom I had good reason to know. Cortes was suffered to rejoin hiscomrades in the palace of Axa without attack, I do not know why, and on thefollowing day Cuitlahua, Montezuma’s brother, king of Palapan, wasreleased by him that he might soothe the people. But Cuitlahua was no coward.Once safe outside his prison walls, he called the council together, of whom thechief was Guatemoc.

There they resolved on war to the end, giving it out that Montezuma hadforfeited his kingdom by his cowardice, and on that resolve they acted. Had itbeen taken but two short months before, by this date no Spaniard would havebeen left alive in Tenoctitlan. For after Marina, the love of Cortes, whosesubtle wit brought about his triumph, it was Montezuma who was the chief causeof his own fall, and of that of the kingdom of Anahuac.

CHAPTER XX
OTOMIE’S COUNSEL

On the day after the return of Cortes to Mexico, before the hour of dawn I wasawakened from my uneasy slumbers by the whistling cries of thousands ofwarriors and the sound of atabalsand drums.

Hurrying to my post of outlook on the little pyramid, where Otomie joined me, Isaw that the whole people were gathered for war. So far as the eye could reach,in square, market place, and street, they were massed in thousands and tens ofthousands. Some were armed with slings, some with bows and arrows, others withjavelins tipped with copper, and the club set with spikes of obsidian that iscalled maqua, and yet others, citizens of the poorer sort, with stakeshardened in the fire. The bodies of some were covered with golden coats of mailand mantles of featherwork, and their skulls protected by painted wooden helms,crested with hair, and fashioned like the heads of pumas, snakes, orwolves—others wore escaupils, or coats of quilted cotton, but themost of them were naked except for a cloth about the loins. On the flatazoteas, or roofs of houses also, and even on the top of theteocalliof sacrifice, were bands of men whose part it was to rainmissiles into the Spanish quarters. It was a strange sight to see in that redsunrise, and one never to be forgotten, as the light flashed from temples andpalace walls, on to the glittering feather garments and gay banners, the pointsof countless spears and the armour of the Spaniards, who hurried to and frobehind their battlements making ready their defence.

So soon as the sun was up, a priest blew a shrill note upon a shell, which wasanswered by a trumpet call from the Spanish quarters. Then with a shriek ofrage the thousands of the Aztecs rushed to the attack, and the air grew darkwith missiles. Instantly a wavering line of fire and smoke, followed by a soundas of thunder, broke from the walls of the palace of Axa, and the chargingwarriors fell like autumn leaves beneath the cannon and arquebuss balls of theChristians.

For a moment they wavered and a great groan went up to heaven, but I sawGuatemoc spring forward, a banner in his hand, and forming up again they rushedafter him. Now they were beneath the wall of the palace, and the assault began.The Aztecs fought furiously. Time upon time they strove to climb the wall,piling up the bodies of the dead to serve them as ladders, and time upon timethey were repulsed with cruel loss. Failing in this, they set themselves tobattering it down with heavy beams, but when the breach was made and theyclustered in it like herded sheep, the cannon opened fire on them, tearing longlanes through their mass and leaving them dead by scores. Then they took to theshooting of flaming arrows, and by this means fired the outworks, but thepalace was of stone and would not burn. Thus for twelve long hours the struggleraged unceasingly, till the sudden fall of darkness put an end to it, and theonly sight to be seen was the flare of countless torches carried by those whosought out the dead, and the only sounds to be heard were the voice of womenlamenting, and the groans of the dying.

On the morrow the fight broke out again at dawn, when Cortes sallied forth withthe greater part of his soldiers, and some thousands of his Tlascalan allies.At first I thought that he aimed his attack at Montezuma’s palace, and abreath of hope went through me, since then it might become possible for me toescape in the confusion. But this was not so, his object being to set fire tothe houses, from the flat roofs of which numberless missiles were hailed hourlyupon his followers. The charge was desperate and it succeeded, for the Indianscould not withstand the shock of horsemen any more than their naked skins couldturn the Spaniards’ steel. Presently scores of houses were in flames, andthick columns of smoke rolled up like those that float from the mouth of Popo.But many of those who rode and ran from the gates of Axa did not come backthither, for the Aztecs clung to the legs of the horses and dragged theirriders away living. That very day these captives were sacrificed on the altarof Huitzel, and in the sight of their comrades, and with them a horse wasoffered up, which had been taken alive, and was borne and dragged with infinitelabour up the steep sides of the pyramid. Indeed never had the sacrifices beenso many as during these days of combat. All day long the altars ran red, andall day long the cries of the victims rang in my ears, as the maddened priestswent about their work. For thus they thought to please the gods who should givethem victory over the Teules.

Even at night the sacrifices continued by the light of the sacred fires, thatfrom below gave those who wrought them the appearance of devils flittingthrough the flames of hell, and inflicting its torments on the damned, much asthey are depicted in the “Doom” painting of the resurrection of thedead that is over the chancel arch in this church of Ditchingham. And hour byhour through the darkness, a voice called out threats and warnings to theSpaniards, saying, “Huitzel is hungry for your blood, ye Teules, ye shallsurely follow where ye have seen your fellows go: the cages are ready, theknives are sharp, and the irons are hot for the torture. Prepare, ye Teules,for though ye slay many, ye cannot escape.”

Thus the struggle went on day after day, till thousands of the Aztecs weredead, and the Spaniards were well nigh worn out with hunger, war, and wounds,for they could not rest a single hour. At length one morning, when the assaultwas at its hottest, Montezuma himself appeared upon the central tower of thepalace, clad in splendid robes and wearing the diadem. Before him stood heraldsbearing golden wands, and about him were the nobles who attended him in hiscaptivity, and a guard of Spaniards. He stretched out his hand, and suddenlythe fighting was stayed and a silence fell upon the place, even the woundedceased from their groaning. Then he addressed the multitude. What he said I wastoo far off to hear, though I learned its purport afterwards. He prayed hispeople to cease from war, for the Spaniards were his friends and guests andwould presently leave the city of Tenoctitlan. When these cowardly words hadpassed his lips, a fury took his subjects, who for long years had worshippedhim as a god, and a shriek rent the air that seemed to say two words only:

“Woman! Traitor!”

Then I saw an arrow rush upwards and strike the emperor, and after the arrow ashower of stones, so that he fell down there upon the tower roof.

Now a voice cried, “We have slain our king. Montezuma is dead,” andinstantly with a dreadful wailing the multitude fled this way and that, so thatpresently no living man could be seen where there had been thousands.

I turned to comfort Otomie, who was watching at my side, and had seen her royalfather fall, and led her weeping into the palace. Here we met Guatemoc, theprince, and his mien was fierce and wild. He was fully armed and carried a bowin his hand.

“Is Montezuma dead?” I asked.

“I neither know nor care,” he answered with a savage laugh, thenadded:

“Now curse me, Otomie my cousin, for it was my arrow that smote him down,this king who has become a woman and a traitor, false to his manhood and hiscountry.”

Then Otomie ceased weeping and answered:

“I cannot curse you, Guatemoc, for the gods have smitten my father with amadness as you smote him with your arrow, and it is best that he should die,both for his own sake and for that of his people. Still, Guatemoc, I am sure ofthis, that your crime will not go unpunished, and that in payment for thissacrilege, you shall yourself come to a shameful death.”

“It may be so,” said Guatemoc, “but at least I shall not diebetraying my trust;” and he went.

Now I must tell that, as I believed, this was my last day on earth, for on themorrow my year of godhead expired, and I, Thomas Wingfield, should be led outto sacrifice. Notwithstanding all the tumult in the city, the mourning for thedead and the fear that hung over it like a cloud, the ceremonies of religionand its feasts were still celebrated strictly, more strictly indeed than everbefore. Thus on this night a festival was held in my honour, and I must sit atthe feast crowned with flowers and surrounded by my wives, while those nobleswho remained alive in the city did me homage, and with them Cuitlahua, who, ifMontezuma were dead, would now be emperor. It was a dreary meal enough, for Icould scarcely be gay though I strove to drown my woes in drink, and as for theguests, they had little jollity left in them. Hundreds of their relatives weredead and with them thousands of the people; the Spaniards still held their ownin the fortress, and that day they had seen their emperor, who to them was agod, smitten down by one of their own number, and above all they felt that doomwas upon themselves. What wonder that they were not merry? Indeed no funeralfeast could have been more sad, for flowers and wine and fair women do not makepleasure, and after all it was a funeral feast—for me.

At length it came to an end and I fled to my own apartments, whither my threewives followed me, for Otomie did not come, calling me most happy and blessedwho to-morrow should be with myself, that is with my own godhead, in heaven.But I did not call them blessed, for, rising in wrath, I drove them away,saying that I had but one comfort left, and it was that wherever I might go Ishould leave them behind.

Then I cast myself upon the cushions of my bed and mourned in my fear andbitterness of heart. This was the end of the vengeance which I had sworn towreak on de Garcia, that I myself must have my heart torn from my breast andoffered to a devil. Truly Fonseca, my benefactor, had spoken words of wisdomwhen he counselled me to take my fortune and forget my oath. Had I done so,to-day I might have been my betrothed’s husband and happy in her love athome in peaceful England, instead of what I was, a lost soul in the power offiends and about to be offered to a fiend. In the bitterness of the thought andthe extremity of my anguish I wept aloud and prayed to my Maker that I might bedelivered from this cruel death, or at the least that my sins should beforgiven me, so that to-morrow night I might rest at peace in heaven.

Thus weeping and praying I sank into a half sleep, and dreamed that I walked onthe hillside near the church path that runs through the garden of the Lodge atDitchingham. The whispers of the wind were in the trees which clothe the bankof the Vineyard Hills, the scent of the sweet English flowers was in mynostrils and the balmy air of June blew on my brow. It was night in this dreamof mine, and I thought that the moon shone sweetly on the meadows and theriver, while from every side came the music of the nightingale. But I was notthinking of these delightful sights and sounds, though they were present in mymind, for my eyes watched the church path which goes up the hill at the back ofthe house, and my heart listened for a footstep that I longed to hear. Thenthere came a sound of singing from beyond the hill, and the words of the songwere sad, for they told of one who had sailed away and returned no more, andpresently between the apple trees I saw a white figure on its crest. Slowly itcame towards me and I knew that it was she for whom I waited, Lily my beloved.Now she ceased to sing, but drew on gently and her face seemed very sad.Moreover it was the face of a woman in middle life, but still most beautiful,more beautiful indeed than it had been in the bloom of youth. She had reachedthe foot of the hill and was turning towards the little garden gate, when Icame forward from the shadow of the trees, and stood before her. Back shestarted with a cry of fear, then grew silent and gazed into my face.

“So changed,” she murmured; “can it be the same? Thomas, isit you come back to me from the dead, or is this but a vision?” andslowly and doubtingly the dream wraith stretched out her arms as though toclasp me.

Then I awoke. I awoke and lo! before me stood a fair woman clothed in white, onwhom the moonlight shone as in my dream, and her arms were stretched towards melovingly.

“It is I, beloved, and no vision,” I cried, springing from my bedand clasping her to my breast to kiss her. But before my lips touched hers Isaw my error, for she whom I embraced was not Lily Bozard, my betrothed, butOtomie, princess of the Otomie, who was called my wife. Then I knew that thiswas the saddest and the most bitter of dreams that had been sent to mock me,for all the truth rushed into my mind. Losing my hold of Otomie, I fell backupon the bed and groaned aloud, and as I fell I saw the flush of shame upon herbrow and breast. For this woman loved me, and thus my act and words were aninsult to her, who could guess well what prompted them. Still she spoke gently.

“Pardon me, Teule, I came but to watch and not to waken you. I came alsothat I may see you alone before the daybreak, hoping that I might be ofservice, or at the least, of comfort to you, for the end draws near. Say then,in your sleep did you mistake me for some other woman dearer and fairer than Iam, that you would have embraced me?”

“I dreamed that you were my betrothed whom I love, and who is far awayacross the sea,” I answered heavily. “But enough of love and suchmatters. What have I to do with them who go down into darkness?”

“In truth I cannot tell, Teule, still I have heard wise men say that iflove is to be found anywhere, it is in this same darkness of death, that islight indeed. Grieve not, for if there is truth in the faith of which you havetold me or in our own, either on this earth or beyond it, with the eyes of thespirit you will see your dear before another sun is set, and I pray that youmay find her faithful to you. Tell me now, how much does she love you? Wouldshehave lain by your side on the bed of sacrifice as, had things goneotherwise between us, Teule, it was my hope to do?”

“No,” I answered, “it is not the custom of our women to killthemselves because their husbands chance to die.”

“Perhaps they think it better to live and wed again,” answeredOtomie very quietly, but I saw her eyes flash and her breast heave in themoonlight as she spoke.

“Enough of this foolish talk,” I said. “Listen, Otomie; ifyou had cared for me truly, surely you would have saved me from this dreadfuldoom, or prevailed on Guatemoc to save me. You are Montezuma’s daughter,could you not have brought it about during all these months that he issued hisroyal mandate, commanding that I should be spared?”

“Do you, then, take me for so poor a friend, Teule?” she answeredhotly. “Know that for all these months, by day and by night, I haveworked and striven to find a means to rescue you. Before he became a prisoner Iimportuned my father the emperor, till he ordered me from his presence. I havesought to bribe the priests, I have plotted ways of escape, ay, and Guatemochas helped, for he loves you. Had it not been for the coming of these accursedTeules, and the war that they have levied in the city, I had surely saved you,for a woman’s thought leaps far, and can find a path where none seemspossible. But this war has changed everything, and moreover the star-readersand diviners of auguries have given a prophecy which seals your fate. For theyhave prophesied that if your blood flows, and your heart is offered at the hourof noon to-morrow on the altar of Tezcat, our people shall be victorious overthe Teules, and utterly destroy them. But if the sacrifice is celebrated onemoment before or after that propitious hour, then the doom of Tenoctitlan issealed. Also they have declared that you must die, not, according to custom, atthe Temple of Arms across the lake, but on the great pyramid before the chiefstatue of the god. All this is known throughout the land; thousands of priestsare now offering up prayers that the sacrifice may be fortunate, and a goldenring has been hung over the stone of slaughter in such a fashion that the lightof the sun must strike upon the centre of your breast at the very moment ofmid-day. For weeks you have been watched as a jaguar watches its prey, for itwas feared that you would escape to the Teules, and we, your wives, have beenwatched also. At this moment there is a triple ring of guards about the palace,and priests are set without your doors and beneath the window places. Judge,then, what chance there is of escape, Teule.”

“Little indeed,” I said, “and yet I know a road. If I killmyself, they cannot kill me.”

“Nay,” she answered hastily, “what shall that avail you?While you live you may hope, but once dead, you are dead for ever. Also if youmust die, it is best that you should die by the hand of the priest. Believe me,though the end is horrible,” and she shuddered, “it is almostpainless, so they say, and very swift. They will not torture you, that we havesaved you, Guatemoc and I, though at first they wished thus to honour the godmore particularly on this great day.”

“O Teule,” Otomie went on, seating herself by me on the bed, andtaking my hand, “think no more of these brief terrors, but look beyondthem. Is it so hard a thing to die, and swiftly? We all must die, to-day, orto-night, or the next day, it matters little when—and your faith, likeours, teaches that beyond the grave is endless blessedness. Think then, myfriend, to-morrow you will have passed far from this strife and turmoil; thestruggle and the sorrows and the daily fears for the future that make the soulsick will be over for you, you will be taken to your peace, where no one shalldisturb you for ever. There you will find that mother whom you have told me of,and who loved you, and there perhaps one will join you who loves you betterthan your mother, mayhap even Imay meet you there, friend,” andshe looked up at me strangely. “The road that you are doomed to walk isdark indeed, but surely it must be well-trodden, and there is light shiningbeyond it. So be a man, my friend, and do not grieve; rejoice rather that at soearly an age you have done with woes and doubts, and come to the gates of joy,that you have passed the thorny, unwatered wilderness and see the smiling lakesand gardens, and among them the temples of your eternal city.

“And now farewell. We meet no more till the hour of sacrifice, for wewomen who masquerade as wives must accompany you to the first platforms of thetemple. Farewell, dear friend, and think upon my words; whether they areacceptable to you or no, I am sure of this, that both for the sake of your ownhonour and because I ask it of you, you will die bravely as though the eyes ofyour own people were watching all.” And bending suddenly, Otomie kissedme on the forehead gently as a sister might, and was gone.

The curtains swung behind her, but the echoes of her noble words still dwelt inmy heart. Nothing can make man look on death lovingly, and that awaiting me wasone from which the bravest would shrink, yet I felt that Otomie had spokentruth, and that, terrible as it seemed, it might prove less terrible than lifehad shewn itself to be. An unnatural calm fell upon my soul like some densemist upon the face of the ocean. Beneath that mist the waters might foam, aboveit the sun might shine, yet around was one grey peace. In this hour I seemed tostand outside of my earthly self, and to look on all things with a new sense.The tide of life was ebbing away from me, the shore of death loomed very near,and I understood then, as in extreme old age I understand to-day, how much morepart we mortals have in death than in this short accident of life. I couldconsider all my past, I could wonder on the future of my spirit, and evenmarvel at the gentleness and wisdom of the Indian woman, who was able to thinksuch thoughts and utter them.

Well, whatever befell, in one thing I would not disappoint her, I would diebravely as an Englishman should do, leaving the rest to God. These barbariansshould never say of me that the foreigner was a coward. Who was I that I shouldcomplain? Did not hundreds of men as good as I was perish daily in yondersquare, and without a murmur? Had not my mother died also at the hand of amurderer? Was not that unhappy lady, Isabella de Siguenza, walled up alivebecause she had been mad enough to love a villain who betrayed her? The worldis full of terrors and sorrows such as mine, who was I that I should complain?

So I mused on till at length the day dawned, and with the rising sun rose theclamour of men making ready for battle. For now the fight raged from day today, and this was to be one of the most terrible. But I thought little then ofthe war between the Aztecs and the Spaniards, who must prepare myself for thestruggle of my own death that was now at hand.

CHAPTER XXI
THE KISS OF LOVE

Presently there was a sound of music, and, accompanied by certain artists, mypages entered, bearing with them apparel more gorgeous than any that I had wornhitherto. First, these pages having stripped me of my robes, the artistspainted all my body in hideous designs of red, and white, and blue, till Iresembled a flag, not even sparing my face and lips, which they coloured withcarmine hues. Over my heart also they drew a scarlet ring with much care andmeasurement. Then they did up my hair that now hung upon my shoulders, afterthe fashion in which it was worn by generals among the Indians, tying it on thetop of my head with an embroidered ribbon red in colour, and placed a plume ofcock’s feathers above it. Next, having arrayed my body in gorgeousvestments not unlike those used by popish priests at the celebration of themass, they set golden earrings in my ears, golden bracelets on my wrists andankles, and round my neck a collar of priceless emeralds. On my breast alsothey hung a great gem that gleamed like moonlit water, and beneath my chin afalse beard made from pink sea shells. Then having twined me round with wreathsof flowers till I thought of the maypole on Bungay Common, they rested fromtheir labours, filled with admiration at their handiwork.

Now the music sounded again and they gave me two lutes, one of which I musthold in either hand, and conducted me to the great hall of the palace. Here anumber of people of rank were gathered, all dressed in festal attire, and herealso on a dais to which I was led, stood my four wives clad in the rich dressesof the four goddesses Xochi, Xilo, Atla, and Clixto, after whom they were namedfor the days of their wifehood, Atla being the princess Otomie. When I hadtaken my place upon the dais, my wives came forward one by one, and kissing meon the brow, offered me sweetmeats and meal cakes in golden platters, and cocoaand mescalin golden cups. Of the mescalI drank, for it is aspirit and I needed inward comfort, but the other dainties I could not touch.These ceremonies being finished, there was silence for a while, till presentlya band of filthy priests entered at the far end of the chamber, clad in theirscarlet sacrificial robes. Blood was on them everywhere, their long locks werematted with it, their hands were red with it, even their fierce eyes seemedfull of it. They advanced up the chamber till they stood before the dais, thensuddenly the head priest lifted up his hands, crying aloud:

“Adore the immortal god, ye people,” and all those gathered thereprostrated themselves shouting:

“We adore the god.”

Thrice the priest cried aloud, and thrice they answered him thus, prostratingthemselves at every answer. Then they rose again, and the priest addressed me,saying:

“Forgive us, O Tezcat, that we cannot honour you as it is meet, for oursovereign should have been here to worship you with us. But you know, O Tezcat,how sore is the strait of your servants, who must wage war in their own cityagainst those who blaspheme you and your brother gods. You know that ourbeloved emperor lies wounded, a prisoner in their unholy hands. When we havegratified your longing to pass beyond the skies, O Tezcat, and when in yourearthly person you have taught us the lesson that human prosperity is but ashadow which flees away; in memory of our love for you intercede for us, webeseech you, that we may smite these wicked ones and honour you and them by therite of their own sacrifice. O Tezcat, you have dwelt with us but a littlewhile, and now you will not suffer that we hold you longer from your glory, foryour eyes have longed to see this happy day, and it is come at last. We haveloved you, Tezcat, and ministered to you, grant in return that we may see youin your splendour, we who are your little children, and till we come, watchwell over our earthly welfare, and that of the people among whom you havedeigned to sojourn.”

Having spoken some such words as these, that at times could scarcely be heardbecause of the sobbing of the people, and of my wives who wept loudly, exceptOtomie alone, this villainous priest made a sign and once more the musicsounded. Then he and his band placed themselves about me, my wives thegoddesses going before and after, and led me down the hall and on to thegateways of the palace, which were thrown wide for us to pass. Looking round mewith a stony wonder, for in this my last hour nothing seemed to escape mynotice, I saw that a strange play was being played about us. Some hundreds ofpaces away the attack on the palace of Axa, where the Spaniards wereentrenched, raged with fury. Bands of warriors were attempting to scale thewalls and being driven back by the deadly fire of the Spaniards and the pikesand clubs of their Tlascalan allies, while from the roofs of such of theneighbouring houses as remained unburned, and more especially from the platformof the great teocalli, on which I must presently give up the ghost,arrows, javelins, and stones were poured by thousands into the courtyards andouter works of the Spanish quarters.

Five hundred yards away or so, raged this struggle to the death, but about me,around the gates of Montezuma’s palace on the hither side of the square,was a different scene. Here were gathered a vast crowd, among them many womenand children, waiting to see me die. They came with flowers in their hands,with the sound of music and joyous cries, and when they saw me they set up sucha shout of welcome that it almost drowned the thunder of the guns and the angryroar of battle. Now and again an ill-aimed cannon ball would plough throughthem, killing some and wounding others, but the rest took no heed, only cryingthe more, “Welcome, Tezcat, and farewell. Blessings on you, ourdeliverer, welcome and farewell!”

We went slowly through the press, treading on a path of flowers, till we cameacross the courtyard to the base of the pyramid. Here at the outer gate therewas a halt because of the multitude of the people, and while we waited awarrior thrust his way through the crowd and bowed before me. Glancing up I sawthat it was Guatemoc.

“Teule,” he whispered to me, “I leave my chargeyonder,” and he nodded towards the force who strove to break a way intothe palace of Axa, “to bid you farewell. Doubtless we shall meet againere long. Believe me, Teule, I would have helped you if I could, but it cannotbe. I wish that I might change places with you. My friend, farewell. Twice youhave saved my life, but yours I cannot save.”

“Farewell, Guatemoc,” I answered “heaven prosper you, for youare a true man.”

Then we passed on.

At the foot of the pyramid the procession was formed, and here one of my wivesbade me adieu after weeping on my neck, though I did not weep on hers. Now theroad to the summit of the teocalliwinds round and round the pyramid,ever mounting higher as it winds, and along this road we went in solemn state.At each turn we halted and another wife bade me a last good-bye, or one of myinstruments of music, which I did not grieve to see the last of, or somearticle of my strange attire, was taken from me. At length after anhour’s march, for our progress was slow, we reached the flat top of thepyramid that is approached by a great stair, a space larger than the area ofthe churchyard here at Ditchingham, and unfenced at its lofty edge. Here onthis dizzy place stood the temples of Huitzel and of Tezcat, soaring structuresof stone and wood, within which were placed the horrid effigies of the gods,and dreadful chambers stained with sacrifice. Here, too, were the holy firesthat burned eternally, the sacrificial stones, the implements of torment, andthe huge drum of snakes’ skin, but for the rest the spot was bare. It wasbare but not empty, for on that side of it which looked towards the Spanishquarters were stationed some hundreds of men who hurled missiles into theircamp without ceasing. On the other side also were gathered a concourse ofpriests awaiting the ceremony of my death. Below the great square, fringedround with burnt-out houses, was crowded with thousands of people, some of themengaged in combat with the Spaniards, but the larger part collected there towitness my murder.

Now we reached the top of the pyramid, two hours before midday, for there werestill many rites to be carried out ere the moment of sacrifice. First I was ledinto the sanctuary of Tezcat, the god whose name I bore. Here was his statue oridol, fashioned in black marble and covered with golden ornaments. In the handof this idol was a shield of burnished gold on which its jewelled eyes werefixed, reading there, as his priests fabled, all that passed upon the earth hehad created. Before him also was a plate of gold, which with mutteredinvocations the head priest cleansed as I watched, rubbing it with his long andmatted locks. This done he held it to my lips that I might breathe on it, and Iturned faint and sick, for I knew that it was being made ready to receive theheart which I felt beating in my breast.

Now what further ceremonies were to be carried out in this unholy place I donot know, for at that moment a great tumult arose in the square beneath, and Iwas hurried from the sanctuary by the priests. Then I perceived this: galled tomadness by the storm of missiles rained upon them from its crest, theSpaniards were attacking the teocalli. Already they were pouring across thecourtyard in large companies, led by Cortes himself, and with them came manyhundreds of their allies the Tlascalans. On the other hand some thousands ofthe Aztecs were rushing to the foot of the first stairway to give the white menbattle there. Five minutes passed and the fight grew fierce. Again and again,covered by the fire of the arquebusiers, the Spaniards charged the Aztecs, buttheir horses slipping upon the stone pavement, at length they dismounted andcontinued the fray on foot. Slowly and with great slaughter the Indians werepushed back and the Spaniards gained a footing on the first stairway. Buthundreds of warriors still crowded the lofty winding road, and hundreds moreheld the top, and it was plain that if the Spaniards won through at all, thetask would be a hard one. Still a fierce hope smote me like a blow when I sawwhat was toward. If the Spaniards took the temple there would be no sacrifice.No sacrifice could be offered till midday, so Otomie had told me, and that wasnot for hard upon two hours. It came to this then, if the Spaniards werevictorious within two hours, there was a chance of life for me, if not I mustdie.

Now when I was led out of the sanctuary of Tezcat, I wondered because theprincess Otomie, or rather the goddess Atla as she was then called, wasstanding among the chief priests and disputing with them, for I had seen herbow her head at the door of the holy place, and thought that it was in token offarewell, seeing that she was the last of the four women to leave me. Of whatshe disputed I could not hear because of the din of battle, but the argumentwas keen and it seemed to me that the priests were somewhat dismayed at herwords, and yet had a fierce joy in them. It appeared also that she won hercause, for presently they bowed in obeisance to her, and turning slowly sheswept to my side with a peculiar majesty of gait that even then I noted.Glancing up at her face also, I saw that it was alight as though with a greatand holy purpose, and moreover that she looked like some happy bride passing toher husband’s arms.

“Why are you not gone, Otomie?” I said. “Now it is too late.The Spaniards surround the teocalliand you will be killed or takenprisoner.”

“I await the end whatever it may be,” she answered briefly, and wespoke no more for a while, but watched the progress of the fray, which wasfierce indeed. Grimly the Aztec warriors fought before the symbols of theirgods, and in the sight of the vast concourse of the people who crowded thesquare beneath and stared at the struggle in silence. They hurled themselvesupon the Spanish swords, they gripped the Spaniards with their hands andscreaming with rage dragged them to the steep sides of the roadway, purposingto cast them over. Sometimes they succeeded, and a ball of men clingingtogether would roll down the slope and be dashed to pieces on the stoneflooring of the courtyard, a Spaniard being in the centre of the ball. But dowhat they would, like some vast and writhing snake, still the long array ofTeules clad in their glittering mail ploughed its way upward through the stormof spears and arrows. Minute by minute and step by step they crept on, fightingas men fight who know the fate that awaits the desecrators of the gods ofAnahuac, fighting for life, and honour, and safety from the stone of sacrifice.Thus an hour went by, and the Spaniards were half way up the pyramid. Louderand louder grew the fearful sounds of battle, the Spaniards cheered and calledon their patron saints to aid them, the Aztecs yelled like wild beasts, thepriests screamed invocations to their gods and cries of encouragement to thewarriors, while above all rose the rattle of the arquebusses, the roar of thecannon, and the fearful note of the great drum of snake’s skin on which ahalf-naked priest beat madly. Only the multitudes below never moved, norshouted. They stood silent gazing upward, and I could see the sunlight flash onthe thousands of their staring eyes.

Now all this while I was standing near the stone of sacrifice with Otomie at myside. Round me were a ring of priests, and over the stone was fixed a square ofblack cloth supported upon four poles, which were set in sockets in thepavement. In the centre of this black cloth was sewn a golden funnel measuringsix inches or so across at its mouth, and the sunbeams passing through thisfunnel fell in a bright patch, the size of an apple, upon the space of pavementthat was shaded by the cloth. As the sun moved in the heavens, so did this ringof light creep across the shadow till at length it climbed the stone ofsacrifice and lay upon its edge.

Then at a sign from the head priest, his ministers laid hold of me and pluckedwhat were left of my fine clothes from me as cruel boys pluck a living bird,till I stood naked except for the paint upon my body and a cloth about myloins. Now I knew that my hour had come, and strange to tell, for the firsttime this day courage entered into me, and I rejoiced to think that soon Ishould have done with my tormentors. Turning to Otomie I began to bid herfarewell in a clear voice, when to my amaze I saw that as I had been served soshe was being served, for her splendid robes were torn off her and she stoodbefore me arrayed in nothing except her beauty, her flowing hair, and abroidered cotton smock.

“Do not wonder, Teule,” she said in a low voice, answering thequestion my tongue refused to frame, “I am your wife and yonder is ourmarriage bed, the first and last. Though you do not love me, to-day I die yourdeath and at your side, as I have the right to do. I could not save you, Teule,but at least I can die with you.”

At the moment I made no answer, for I was stricken silent by my wonder, andbefore I could find my tongue the priests had cast me down, and for the secondtime I lay upon the stone of doom. As they held me a yell fiercer and longerthan any which had gone before, told that the Spaniards had got foot upon thelast stair of the ascent. Scarcely had my body been set upon the centre of thegreat stone, when that of Otomie was laid beside it, so close that our sidestouched, for I must lie in the middle of the stone and there was no great placefor her. Then the moment of sacrifice not being come, the priests made us fastwith cords which they knotted to copper rings in the pavement, and turned towatch the progress of the fray.

For some minutes we lay thus side by side, and as we lay a great wonder andgratitude grew in my heart, wonder that a woman could be so brave, gratitudefor the love she gave me, sealing it with her life-blood. Because Otomie lovedme she had chosen this fearful death, because she loved me so well that shedesired to die thus at my side rather than to live on in greatness and honourwithout me. Of a sudden, in a moment while I thought of this marvel, a newlight shone upon my heart and it was changed towards her. I felt that no womancould ever be so dear to me as this glorious woman, no, not even my betrothed.I felt—nay, who can say what I did feel? But I know this, that the tearsrushed to my eyes and ran down my painted face, and I turned my head to look ather. She was lying as much upon her left side as her hands would allow, herlong hair fell from the stone to the paving where it lay in masses, and herface was towards me. So close was it indeed that there was not an inch betweenour lips.

“Otomie,” I whispered, “listen to me. I love you,Otomie.” Now I saw her breast heave beneath the bands and the colour comeupon her brow.

“Then I am repaid,” she answered, and our lips clung together in akiss, the first, and as we thought the last. Yes, there we kissed, on the stoneof sacrifice, beneath the knife of the priest and the shadow of death, and ifthere has been a stranger love scene in the world, I have never heard itsstory.

“Oh! I am repaid,” she said again; “I would gladly die ascore of deaths to win this moment, indeed I pray that I may die before youtake back your words. For, Teule, I know well that there is one who is dearerto you than I am, but now your heart is softened by the faithfulness of anIndian girl, and you think that you love her. Let me die then believing thatthe dream is true.”

“Talk not so,” I answered heavily, for even at that moment thememory of Lily came into my mind. “You give your life for me and I loveyou for it.”

“My life is nothing and your love is much,” she answered smiling.“Ah! Teule, what magic have you that you can bring me, Montezuma’sdaughter, to the altar of the gods and of my own free will? Well, I desire nosofter bed, and for the why and wherefore it will soon be known by both of us,and with it many other things.”

CHAPTER XXII
THE TRIUMPH OF THE CROSS

“Otomie,” I said presently, “when will they kill us?”

“When the point of light lies within the ring that is painted over yourheart,” she answered.

Now I turned my head from her, and looked at the sunbeam which pierced theshadow above us like a golden pencil. It rested at my side about six inchesfrom me, and I reckoned that it would lie in the scarlet ring painted upon mybreast within some fifteen minutes. Meanwhile the clamour of battle grew louderand nearer. Shifting myself so far as the cords would allow, I strained my headupwards and saw that the Spaniards had gained the crest of the pyramid, sincethe battle now raged upon its edge, and I have rarely seen so terrible a fight,for the Aztecs fought with the fury of despair, thinking little of their ownlives if they could only bring a Spaniard to his death. But for the most parttheir rude weapons would not pierce the coats of mail, so that there remainedonly one way to compass their desire, namely, by casting the white men over theedge of the teocallito be crushed like eggshells upon the pavement twohundred feet below. Thus the fray broke itself up into groups of foes who rentand tore at each other upon the brink of the pyramid, now and again to vanishdown its side, ten or twelve of them together. Some of the priests also joinedin the fight, thinking less of their own deaths than of the desecration oftheir temples, for I saw one of them, a man of huge strength and stature, seizea Spanish soldier round the middle and leap with him into space. Still, thoughvery slowly, the Spaniards and Tlascalans forced their way towards the centreof the platform, and as they came the danger of this dreadful end grew less,for the Aztecs must drag them further.

Now the fight drew near to the stone of sacrifice, and all who remained aliveof the Aztecs, perhaps some two hundred and fifty of them, besides the priests,ringed themselves round us and it in a circle. Also the outer rim of thesunbeam that fell through the golden funnel, creeping on remorselessly, touchedmy painted side which it seemed to burn as hot iron might, for alas, I couldnot command the sun to stand still while the battle raged, as did Joshua in thevalley of Ajalon. When it touched me, five priests seized my limbs and head,and the father of them, he who had conducted me from the palace, clasped hisflint knife in both hands. Now a deathly sickness took me and I shut my eyesdreaming that all was done, but at that moment I heard a wild-eyed man, thechief of the astronomers whom I had noted standing by, call out to the ministerof death:

“Not yet, O priest of Tezcat! If you smite before the sunbeam lies uponthe victim’s heart, your gods are doomed and doomed are the people ofAnahuac.”

The priest gnashed his teeth with rage, and glared first at the creeping pointof light and then over his shoulder at the advancing battle. Slowly the ring ofwarriors closed in upon us, slowly the golden ray crept up my breast till itsouter rim touched the red circle painted upon my heart. Again the priest heavedup his awful knife, again I shut my eyes, and again I heard the shrill screamof the astronomer, “Not yet, not yet, or your gods are doomed!”

Then I heard another sound. It was the voice of Otomie crying for help.

“Save us, Teules; they murder us!” she shrieked in so piercing anote that it reached the ears of the Spaniards, for one shouted in answer andin the Castilian tongue, “On, my comrades, on! The dogs do murder ontheir altars!”

Then there was a mighty rush and the defending Aztecs were swept in upon thealtar, lifting the priest of sacrifice from his feet and throwing him across mybody. Thrice that rush came like a rush of the sea, and each time the stand ofthe Aztecs weakened. Now their circle was broken and the swords of theSpaniards flashed up on every side, and now the red ray lay within the ringupon my heart.

“Smite, priest of Tezcat,” screamed the voice of the astronomer;“smite home for the glory of your gods!”

With a fearful yell the priest lifted the knife; I saw the golden sunbeam thatrested full upon my heart shine on it. Then as it was descending I saw the samesunbeam shine upon a yard of steel that flashed across me and lost itself inthe breast of the murderer priest. Down came the great flint knife, but its aimwas lost. It struck indeed, but not upon my bosom, though I did not escape italtogether. Full upon the altar of sacrifice it fell and was shattered there,piercing between my side and that of Otomie, and gashing the flesh of both sothat our blood was mingled upon the stone, making us one indeed. Down too camethe priest across our bodies for the second time, but to rise no more, for hewrithed dying on those whom he would have slain.

Then as in a dream I heard the wail of the astronomer singing the dirge of thegods of Anahuac.

“The priest is dead and his gods are fallen,” he cried.“Tezcat has rejected his victim and is fallen; doomed are the gods ofAnahuac! Victory is to the Cross of the Christians!”

Thus he wailed, then came the sound of sword blows and I knew that this prophetwas dead also.

Now a strong arm pulled the dying priest from off us, and he staggered backtill he fell over the altar where the eternal fire burned, quenching it withhis blood and body after it had flared for many generations, and a knife cutthe rope that bound us.

I sat up staring round me wildly, and a voice spoke above me in Castilian, notto me indeed but to some comrade.

“These two went near to it, poor devils,” said the voice.“Had my cut been one second later, that savage would have drilled a holein him as big as my head. By all the saints! the girl is lovely, or would be ifshe were washed. I shall beg her of Cortes as my prize.”

The voice spoke and I knew the voice. None other ever had that hard clear ring.I knew it even then and looked up, slipping off the death-stone as I looked.Now I saw. Before me fully clad in mail was my enemy, de Garcia. It washissword that by the good providence of God had pierced the breast ofthe priest. He had saved me who, had he known, would as soon have turned hissteel against his own heart as on that of my destroyer.

I gazed at him, wondering if I dreamed, then my lips spoke, without my will asit were:

“De Garcia!”

He staggered back at the sound of my voice, like a man struck by a shot, thenstared at me, rubbed his eyes with his hand, and stared again. Now at length heknew me through my paint.

“Mother of God!” he gasped, “it is that knave ThomasWingfield, and I have saved his life!”

By this time my senses had come back to me, and knowing all my folly, I turnedseeking escape. But de Garcia had no mind to suffer this. Lifting his sword, hesprang at me with a beastlike scream of rage and hate. Swiftly as thought Islipped round the stone of sacrifice and after me came the uplifted sword of myenemy. It would have overtaken me soon enough, for I was weak with fear andfasting, and my limbs were cramped with bonds, but at that moment a cavalierwhom by his dress and port I guessed to be none other than Cortes himself,struck up de Garcia’s sword, saying:

“How now, Sarceda? Are you mad with the lust of blood that you would taketo sacrificing victims like an Indian priest? Let the poor devil go.”

“He is no Indian, he is an English spy,” cried de Garcia, and oncemore struggled to get at me.

“Decidedly our friend is mad,” said Cortes, scanning me; “hesays that this wretched creature is an Englishman. Come, be off both of you, orsomebody else may make the same mistake,” and he waved his sword in tokento us to go, deeming that I could not understand his words; then added angrily,as de Garcia, speechless with rage, made a new attempt to get at me:

“No, by heaven! I will not suffer it. We are Christians and come to savevictims, not to slay them. Here, comrades, hold this fool who would stain hissoul with murder.”

Now the Spaniards clutched de Garcia by the arms, and he cursed and raved atthem, for as I have said, his rage was that of a beast rather than of a man.But I stood bewildered, not knowing whither to fly. Fortunate it was for meindeed that one was by who though she understood no Spanish, yet had a quickerwit. For while I stood thus, Otomie clasped my hand, and whispering,“Fly, fly swiftly!” led me away from the stone of sacrifice.

“Whither shall we go?” I said at length. “Were it not betterto trust to the mercy of the Spaniards?”

“To the mercy of that man-devil with the sword?” she answered.“Peace, Teule, and follow me.”

Now she led me on, and the Spaniards let us by unharmed, ay, and even spokewords of pity as we passed, for they knew that we were victims snatched fromsacrifice. Indeed, when a certain brute, a Tlascalan Indian, rushed at us,purposing to slay us with a club, one of the Spaniards ran him through theshoulder so that he fell wounded to the pavement.

So we went on, and at the edge of the pyramid we glanced back and saw that deGarcia had broken from those who held him, or perhaps he found his tongue andhad explained the truth to them. At the least he was bounding from the altar ofsacrifice nearly fifty yards away, and coming towards us with uplifted sword.Then fear gave us strength, and we fled like the wind. Along the steep path werushed side by side, leaping down the steps and over the hundreds of dead anddying, only pausing now and again to save ourselves from being smitten intospace by the bodies of the priests whom the Spaniards were hurling from thecrest of the teocalli. Once looking up, I caught sight of de Garciapursuing far above us, but after that we saw him no more; doubtless he weariedof the chase, or feared to fall into the hands of such of the Aztec warriors asstill clustered round the foot of the pyramid.

We had lived through many dangers that day, the princess Otomie and I, but onemore awaited us before ever we found shelter for awhile. After we had reachedthe foot of the pyramid and turned to mingle with the terrified rabble thatsurged and flowed through the courtyard of the temple, bearing away the deadand wounded as the sea at flood reclaims its waste and wreckage, a noise likethunder caught my ear. I looked up, for the sound came from above, and saw ahuge mass bounding down the steep side of the pyramid. Even then I knew itagain; it was the idol of the god Tezcat that the Spaniards had torn from itsshrine, and like an avenging demon it rushed straight on to me. Already it wasupon us, there was no retreat from instant death, we had but escaped sacrificeto the spirit of the god to be crushed to powder beneath the bulk of his marbleemblem. On he came while on high the Spaniards shouted in triumph. His base hadstruck the stone side of the pyramid fifty feet above us, now he whirled roundand round in the air to strike again within three paces of where we stood. Ifelt the solid mountain shake beneath the blow, and next instant the air wasfilled with huge fragments of marble, that whizzed over us and past us asthough a mine of powder had been fired beneath our feet, tearing the rocks fromtheir base. The god Tezcat had burst into a score of pieces, and these fellround us like a flight of arrows, and yet we were not touched. My head wasgrazed by his head, his feet dug a pit before my feet, but I stood thereunhurt, the false god had no power over the victim who had escaped him!

After that I remember nothing till I found myself once more in my apartments inMontezuma’s palace, which I never hoped to see again. Otomie was by me,and she brought me water to wash the paint from my body and the blood from mywound, which, leaving her own untended, she dressed skilfully, for the cut ofthe priest’s knife was deep and I had bled much. Also she clothed herselfafresh in a white robe and brought me raiment to wear, with food and drink, andI partook of them. Then I bade her eat something herself, and when she had doneso I gathered my wits together and spoke to her.

“What next?” I said. “Presently the priests will be on us,and we shall be dragged back to sacrifice. There is no hope for me here, I mustfly to the Spaniards and trust to their mercy.”

“To the mercy of that man with the sword? Say, Teule, who is he?”

“He is that Spaniard of whom I have spoken to you, Otomie; he is mymortal enemy whom I have followed across the seas.”

“And now you would put yourself into his power. Truly, you are foolish,Teule.”

“It is better to fall into the hands of Christian men than into those ofyour priests,” I answered.

“Have no fear,” she said; “the priests are harmless for you.You have escaped them and there’s an end. Few have ever come alive fromtheir clutches before, and he who does so is a wizard indeed. For the rest Ithink that your God is stronger than our gods, for surely He must have cast Hismantle over us when we lay yonder on the stone. Ah! Teule, to what have youbrought me that I should live to doubt my gods, ay, and to call upon the foesof my country for succour in your need. Believe me, I had not done it for myown sake, since I would have died with your kiss upon my lips and your word oflove echoing in my ears, who now must live knowing that these joys have passedfrom me.”

“How so?” I answered. “What I have said, I have said. Otomie,you would have died with me, and you saved my life by your wit in calling onthe Spaniards. Henceforth it is yours, for there is no other woman in the worldso tender and so brave, and I say it again, Otomie, my wife, I love you. Ourblood has mingled on the stone of sacrifice and there we kissed; let these beour marriage rites. Perhaps I have not long to live, but till I die I am yours,Otomie my wife.”

Thus I spoke from the fulness of my heart, for my strength and courage wereshattered, horror and loneliness had taken hold of me. But two things were leftto me in the world, my trust in Providence and the love of this woman, who haddared so much for me. Therefore I forgot my troth and clung to her as a childclings to its mother. Doubtless it was wrong, but I will be bold to say thatfew men so placed would have acted otherwise. Moreover, I could not take backthe fateful words that I had spoken on the stone of sacrifice. When I said themI was expecting death indeed, but to renounce them now that its shadow waslifted from me, if only for a little while, would have been the act of acoward. For good or evil I had given myself to Montezuma’s daughter, andI must abide by it or be shamed. Still such was the nobleness of this Indianlady that even then she would not take me at my word. For a little while shestood smiling sadly and drawing a lock of her long hair through the hollow ofher hand. Then she spoke:

“You are not yourself, Teule, and I should be base indeed if I made sosolemn a compact with one who does not know what he sells. Yonder on the altarand in a moment of death you said that you loved me, and doubtless it was true.But now you have come back to life, and say, lord, who set that golden ringupon your hand and what is written in its circle? Yet even if the words aretrue that you have spoken and you love me a little, there is one across the seawhom you love better. That I could bear, for my heart is fixed on you aloneamong men, and at the least you would be kind to me, and I should move in thesunlight of your presence. But having known the light, I cannot live to wanderin the darkness. You do not understand. I will tell you what I fear. I fearthat if—if we were wed, you would weary of me as men do, and that memorywould grow too strong for you. Then by and by it might be possible for you tofind your way back across the waters to your own land and your own love, and soyou would desert me, Teule. This is what I could not bear, Teule. I can foregoyou now, ay, and remain your friend. But I cannot be put aside like a dancinggirl, the companion of a month, I, Montezuma’s daughter, a lady of my ownland. Should you wed me, it must be for my life, Teule, and that is perhapsmore than you would wish to promise, though you could kiss me on yonder stoneand there is blood fellowship between us,” and she glanced at the redstain in the linen robe that covered the wound upon her side.

“And now, Teule, I leave you a while, that I may find Guatemoc, if hestill lives, and others who, now that the strength of the priests is shattered,have power to protect you and advance you to honour. Think then on all that Ihave said, and do not be hasty to decide. Or would you make an end at once andfly to the white men if I can find a means of escape?”

“I am too weary to fly anywhere,” I answered, “even if Icould. Moreover, I forget. My enemy is among the Spaniards, he whom I havesworn to kill, therefore his friends are my foes and his foes my friends. Iwill not fly, Otomie.”

“There you are wise,” she said, “for if you come among theTeules that man will murder you; by fair means or foul he will murder youwithin a day, I saw it in his eyes. Now rest while I seek your safety, if thereis any safety in this blood-stained land.”

CHAPTER XXIII
THOMAS IS MARRIED

Otomie turned and went. I watched the golden curtains close behind her; then Isank back upon the couch and instantly was lost in sleep, for I was faint andweak, and so dazed with weariness, that at the time I scarcely knew what hadhappened, or the purpose of our talk. Afterwards, however, it came back to me.I must have slept for many hours, for when I awoke it was far on into thenight. It was night but not dark, for through the barred window places came thesound of tumult and fighting, and red rays of light cast by the flames ofburning houses. One of these windows was above my couch, and standing on thebed I seized the sill with my hands. With much pain, because of the flesh woundin my side, I drew myself up till I could look through the bars. Then I sawthat the Spaniards, not content with the capture of the teocalli, hadmade a night attack and set fire to hundreds of houses in the city. The glareof the flames was that of a lurid day, and by it I could see the white menretreating to their quarters, pursued by thousands of Aztecs, who hung upontheir flanks, shooting at them with stones and arrows.

Now I dropped down from the window place and began to think as to what I shoulddo, for again my mind was wavering. Should I desert Otomie and escape to theSpaniards if that were possible, taking my chance of death at the hands of deGarcia? Or should I stay among the Aztecs if they would give me shelter, andwed Otomie? There was a third choice, indeed, to stay with them and leaveOtomie alone, though it would be difficult to do this and keep my honour. Onething I understood, if I married Otomie it must be at her own price, for then Imust become an Indian and give over all hope of returning to England and to mybetrothed. Of this, indeed, there was little chance, still, while my liferemained to me, it might come about if I was free. But once my hands were tiedby this marriage it could never be during Otomie’s lifetime, and so faras Lily Bozard was concerned I should be dead. How could I be thus faithless toher memory and my troth, and on the other hand, how could I discard the womanwho had risked all for me, and who, to speak truth, had grown so dear to me,though there was one yet dearer? A hero or an angel might find a path out ofthis tangle, but alas! I was neither the one nor the other, only a manafflicted as other men are with human weakness, and Otomie was at hand, andvery sweet and fair. Still, almost I determined that I would avail myself ofher nobleness, that I would go back upon my words, and beg her to despise meand see me no more, in order that I might not be forced to break the troth thatI had pledged beneath the beech at Ditchingham. For I greatly dreaded this oathof life-long fidelity which I should be forced to swear if I chose any otherpath.

Thus I thought on in pitiable confusion of mind, not knowing that all thesematters were beyond my ordering, since a path was already made ready to myfeet, which I must follow or die. And let this be a proof of the honesty of mywords, since, had I been desirous of glozing the truth, I need have writtennothing of these struggles of conscience, and of my own weakness. For soon itwas to come to this, though not by her will, that I must either wed Otomie ordie at once, and few would blame me for doing the first and not the last.Indeed, though I did wed her, I might still have declared myself to myaffianced and to all the world as a slave of events from which there was noescape. But it is not all the truth, since my mind was divided, and had it notbeen settled for me, I cannot say how the struggle would have ended.

Now, looking back on the distant past, and weighing my actions and character asa judge might do, I can see, however, that had I found time to consider, therewas another matter which would surely have turned the scale in favour ofOtomie. De Garcia was among the Spaniards, and my hatred of de Garcia was theruling passion of my life, a stronger passion even than my love for the twodear women who have been its joy. Indeed, though he is dead these many years Istill hate him, and evil though the desire be, even in my age I long that myvengeance was still to wreak. While I remained among the Aztecs de Garcia wouldbe their enemy and mine, and I might meet him in war and kill him there. But ifI succeeded in reaching the Spanish camp, then it was almost sure that he wouldbring about my instant death. Doubtless he had told such a tale of me already,that within an hour I should be hung as a spy, or otherwise made away with.

But I will cease from these unprofitable wonderings which have but one value,that of setting out my strange necessity of choice between an absent and apresent love, and go on with the story of an event in which there was no roomto balance scruples.

While I sat musing on the couch the curtain was drawn, and a man enteredbearing a torch. It was Guatemoc as he had come from the fray, which, exceptfor its harvest of burning houses, was finished for that night. The plumes wereshorn from his head, his golden armour was hacked by the Spanish swords, and hebled from a shot wound in the neck.

“Greeting, Teule,” he said. “Certainly I never thought to seeyou alive to-night, or myself either for that matter. But it is a strangeworld, and now, if never before in Tenoctitlan, those things happen for whichwe look the least. But I have no time for words. I came to summon you beforethe council.”

“What is to be my fate?” I asked. “To be dragged back to thestone of sacrifice?”

“Nay, have no fear of that. But for the rest I cannot say. In an hour youmay be dead or great among us, if any of us can be called great in these daysof shame. Otomie has worked well for you among the princes and the counsellors,so she says, and if you have a heart, you should be grateful to her, for itseems to me that few women have loved a man so much. As for me, I have beenemployed elsewhere,” and he glanced at his rent armour, “but I willlift up my voice for you. Now come, friend, for the torch burns low. By thistime you must be well seasoned in dangers; one more or less will matter aslittle to you as to me.”

Then I rose and followed him into the great cedar-panelled hall, where thatvery morning I had received adoration as a god. Now I was a god no longer, buta prisoner on trial for his life. Upon the dais where I had stood in the hourof my godhead were gathered those of the princes and counsellors who were leftalive. Some of them, like Guatemoc, were clad in rent and bloody mail, othersin their customary dress, and one in a priest’s robe. They had only twothings in common among them, the sternness of their faces and the greatness oftheir rank, and they sat there this night not to decide my fate, which was buta little thing, but to take counsel as to how they might expel the Spaniardsbefore the city was destroyed.

When I entered, a man in mail, who sat in the centre of the half circle, and inwhom I knew Cuitlahua, who would be emperor should Montezuma die, looked upquickly and said:

“Who is this, Guatemoc, that you bring with you? Ah! I remember; theTeule that was the god Tezcat, and who escaped the sacrifice to-day. Listen,nobles. What is to be done with this man? Say, is it lawful that he be led backto sacrifice?”

Then the priest answered: “I grieve to say that it is not lawful, mostnoble prince. This man has lain on the altar of the god, he has even beenwounded by the holy knife. But the god rejected him in a fateful hour, and hemust lie there no more. Slay him if you will, but not upon the stone ofsacrifice.”

“What then shall be done with him?” said the prince again.

“He is of the blood of the Teules, and therefore an enemy. One thing iscertain; he must not be suffered to join the white devils and give them tidingsof our distresses. Is it not best that he be put away forthwith?”

Now several of the council nodded their heads, but others sat silent, making nosign.

“Come,” said Cuitlahua, “we have no time to waste over thisman when the lives of thousands are hourly at stake. The question is, Shall theTeule be slain?”

Then Guatemoc rose and spoke, saying: “Your pardon, noble kinsman, but Ihold that we may put this prisoner to better use than to kill him. I know himwell; he is brave and loyal, as I have proved, moreover, he is not all a Teule,but half of another race that hates them as he hates them. Also he hasknowledge of their customs and mode of warfare, which we lack, and I think thathe may be able to give us good counsel in our strait.”

“The counsel of the wolf to the deer perhaps,” said Cuitlahua,coldly; “counsel that shall lead us to the fangs of the Teules. Who shallanswer for this foreign devil, that he will not betray us if we trusthim?”

“I will answer with my life,” answered Guatemoc.

“Your life is of too great worth to be set on such a stake, nephew. Menof this white breed are liars, and his own word is of no value even if he givesit. I think that it will be best to kill him and have done with doubts.”

“This man is wed to Otomie, princess of the Otomie, Montezuma’sdaughter, your niece,” said Guatemoc again, “and she loves him sowell that she offered herself upon the stone of sacrifice with him. Unless Imistake she will answer for him also. Shall she be summoned before you?”

“If you wish, nephew; but a woman in love is a blind woman, and doubtlesshe has deceived her also. Moreover, she was his wife according to the rule ofreligion only. Is it your desire that the princess should be summoned beforeyou, comrades?”

Now some said nay, but the most, those whose interest Otomie had gained, saidyea, and the end of it was that one of their number was sent to summon her.

Presently she came, looking very weary, but proud in mien and royally attired,and bowed before the council.

“This is the question, princess,” said Cuitlahua. “Whetherthis Teule shall be slain forthwith, or whether he shall be sworn as one of us,should he be willing to take the oath? The prince Guatemoc here vouches forhim, and he says, moreover, that you will vouch for him also. A woman can dothis in one way only, by taking him she vouches as her husband. You are alreadywed to this foreigner by the rule of religion. Are you willing to marry himaccording to the custom of our land, and to answer for his faith with your ownlife?”

“I am willing,” Otomie answered quietly, “if he iswilling.”

“In truth it is a great honour that you would do this white dog,”said Cuitlahua. “Bethink you, you are princess of the Otomie and one ofour master’s daughters, it is to you that we look to bring back themountain clans of the Otomie, of whom you are chieftainess, from their unholyalliance with the accursed Tlascalans, the slaves of the Teules. Is not yourlife too precious to be set on such a stake as this foreigner’s faith?for learn, Otomie, if he proves false your rank shall not help you.”

“I know it all,” she replied quietly. “Foreigner or not, Ilove this man and I will answer for him with my blood. Moreover, I look to himto assist me to win back the people of the Otomie to their allegiance. But lethim speak for himself, my lord. It may happen that he has no desire to take mein marriage.”

Cuitlahua smiled grimly and said, “When the choice lies between thebreast of death and those fair arms of yours, niece, it is easy to guess hisanswer. Still, speak, Teule, and swiftly.”

“I have little to say, lord. If the princess Otomie is willing to wed me,I am willing to wed her,” I answered, and thus in the moment of my dangerall my doubts and scruples vanished. As Cuitlahua had said, it was easy toguess the choice of one set between death and Otomie.

She heard and looked at me warningly, saying in a low voice: “Rememberour words, Teule. In such a marriage you renounce your past and give me yourfuture.”

“I remember,” I answered, and while I spoke, there came before myeyes a vision of Lily’s face as it had been when I bade her farewell.This then was the end of the vows that I had sworn. Cuitlahua looked at me witha glance which seemed to search my heart and said:

“I hear your words, Teule. You, a white wanderer, are graciously willingto take this princess to wife, and by her to be lifted high among the greatlords of this land. But say, how can we trust you? If you fail us your wifedies indeed, but that may be naught to you.”

“I am ready to swear allegiance,” I answered. “I hate theSpaniards, and among them is my bitterest enemy whom I followed across the seato kill—the man who strove to murder me this very day. I can say no more,if you doubt my words it were best to make an end of me. Already I havesuffered much at the hands of your people; it matters little if I die orlive.”

“Boldly spoken, Teule. Now, lords, I ask your judgment. Shall this man begiven to Otomie as husband and be sworn as one of us, or shall he be killedinstantly? You know the matter. If he can be trusted, as Guatemoc and Otomiebelieve, he will be worth an army to us, for he is acquainted with thelanguage, the customs, the weapons, and the modes of warfare of these whitedevils whom the gods have let loose upon us. If on the other hand he is not tobe trusted, and it is hard for us to put faith in one of his blood, he may dous much injury, for in the end he will escape to the Teules, and betray ourcounsels and our strength, or the lack of it. It is for you to judge,lords.”

Now the councillors consulted together, and some said one thing and someanother, for they were not by any means of a mind in the matter. At lengthgrowing weary, Cuitlahua called on them to put the question to the vote, andthis they did by a lifting of hands. First those who were in favour of my deathheld up their hands, then those who thought that it would be wise to spare me.There were twenty-six councillors present, not counting Cuitlahua, and of thesethirteen voted for my execution and thirteen were for saving me alive.

“Now it seems that I must give a casting vote,” said Cuitlahua whenthe tale had been rendered, and my blood turned cold at his words, for I hadseen that his mind was set against me. Then it was that Otomie broke in,saying:

“Your pardon, my uncle, but before you speak I have a word to say. Youneed my services, do you not? for if the people of the Otomie will listen toany and suffer themselves to be led from their evil path, it is to me. Mymother was by birth their chieftainess, the last of a long line, and I am heronly child, moreover my father is their emperor. Therefore my life is of nosmall worth now in this time of trouble, for though I am nothing in myself, yetit may chance that I can bring thirty thousand warriors to your standard. Thepriests knew this on yonder pyramid, and when I claimed my right to lie at theside of the Teule, they gainsayed me, nor would they suffer it, though theyhungered for the royal blood, till I called down the vengeance of the gods uponthem. Now my uncle, and you, lords, I tell you this: Slay yonder man if youwill, but know that then you must find another than me to lure the Otomie fromtheir rebellion, for then I complete what I began to-day, and follow him to thegrave.”

She ceased and a murmur of amazement went round the chamber, for none hadlooked to find such love and courage in this lady’s heart. Only Cuitlahuagrew angry.

“Disloyal girl,” he said; “do you dare to set your loverbefore your country? Shame upon you, shameless daughter of our king. Why, it isin the blood—as the father is so is the daughter. Did not Montezumaforsake his people and choose to lie among these Teules, the false children ofQuetzal? And now this Otomie follows in his path. Tell us how is it, woman,that you and your lover alone escaped from the teocalliyonder when allthe rest were killed. Are you then in league with these Teules? I say to you,niece, that if things were otherwise and I had my way, you should win yourdesire indeed, for you should be slain at this man’s side and within thehour.” And he ceased for lack of breath, and looked upon her fiercely.

But Otomie never quailed; she stood before him pale and quiet, with foldedhands and downcast eyes, and answered:

“Forbear to reproach me because my love is strong, or reproach me if youwill, I have spoken my last word. Condemn this man to die and Prince you mustseek some other envoy to win back the Otomie to the cause of Anahuac.”

Now Cuitlahua pondered, staring into the gloom above him and pulling at hisbeard, and the silence was great, for none knew what his judgment would be. Atlast he spoke:

“So be it. We have need of Otomie, my niece, and it is of no avail tofight against a woman’s love. Teule, we give you life, and with the lifehonour and wealth, and the greatest of our women in marriage, and a place inour councils. Take these gifts and her, but I say to you both, beware how youuse them. If you betray us, nay, if you do but think on treachery, I swear toyou that you shall die a death so slow and horrible that the very name of itwould turn your heart to water; you and your wife, your children and yourservants. Come, let him be sworn!”

I heard and my head swam, and a mist gathered before my eyes. Once again I wassaved from instant death.

Presently it cleared, and looking up my eyes met those of the woman who hadsaved me, Otomie my wife, who smiled upon me somewhat sadly. Then the priestcame forward bearing a wooden bowl, carved about with strange signs, and aflint knife, and bade me bare my arm. He cut my flesh with the knife, so thatblood ran from it into the bowl. Some drops of this blood he emptied on to theground, muttering invocations the while. Then he turned and looked at Cuitlahuaas though in question, and Cuitlahua answered with a bitter laugh:

“Let him be baptized with the blood of the princess Otomie my niece, forshe is bail for him.”

“Nay, lord,” said Guatemoc, “these two have mingled bloodsalready upon the stone of sacrifice, and they are man and wife. But I also havevouched for him, and I offer mine in earnest of my faith.”

“This Teule has good friends,” said Cuitlahua; “you honourhim overmuch. But so be it.”

Then Guatemoc came forward, and when the priest would have cut him with theknife, he laughed and said, pointing to the bullet wound upon his neck:

“No need for that, priest. Blood runs here that was shed by the Teules.None can be fitter for this purpose.”

So the priest drew away the bandage and suffered the blood of Guatemoc to dropinto a second smaller bowl. Then he came to me and dipping his finger into theblood, he drew the sign of a cross upon my forehead as a Christian priest drawsit upon the forehead of an infant, and said:

“In the presence and the name of god our lord, who is everywhere and seesall things, I sign you with this blood and make you of this blood. In thepresence and the name of god our lord, who is everywhere and sees all things, Ipour forth your blood upon the earth!” (here he poured as he spoke).“As this blood of yours sinks into the earth, so may the memory of yourpast life sink and be forgotten, for you are born again of the people ofAnahuac. In the presence and the name of god our lord, who is everywhere andsees all things, I mingle these bloods” (here he poured from one bowlinto the other), “and with them I touch your tongue” (here dippinghis finger into the bowl he touched the tip of my tongue with it) “andbid you swear thus:

“‘May every evil to which the flesh of man is subject enter into myflesh, may I live in misery and die in torment by the dreadful death, may mysoul be rejected from the Houses of the Sun, may it wander homeless for ever inthe darkness that is behind the Stars, if I depart from this my oath. I, Teule,swear to be faithful to the people of Anahuac and to their lawful governors. Iswear to wage war upon their foes and to compass their destruction, and moreespecially upon the Teules till they are driven into the sea. I swear to offerno affront to the gods of Anahuac. I swear myself in marriage to Otomie,princess of the Otomie, the daughter of Montezuma my lord, for so long as herlife shall endure. I swear to attempt no escape from these shores. I swear torenounce my father and my mother, and the land where I was born, and to clingto this land of my new birth; and this my oath shall endure till the volcanPopo ceases to vomit smoke and fire, till there is no king in Tenoctitlan, tillno priest serves the altars of the gods, and the people of Anahuac are no morea people.’

“Do you swear these things, one and all?”

“One and all I swear them,” I answered because I must, though therewas much in the oath that I liked little enough. And yet mark how strangelythings came to pass. Within fifteen years from that night the volcan Popo hadceased to vomit smoke and fire, the kings had ceased to reign in Tenoctitlan,the priests had ceased to serve the altars of the gods, the people of Anahuacwere no more a people, and my vow was null and void. Yet the priests who framedthis form chose these things as examples of what was immortal!

When I had sworn Guatemoc came forward and embraced me, saying: “Welcome,Teule, my brother in blood and heart. Now you are one of us, and we look to youfor help and counsel. Come, be seated by me.”

I looked towards Cuitlahua doubtfully, but he smiled graciously, and said:“Teule, your trial is over. We have accepted you, and you have sworn thesolemn oath of brotherhood, to break which is to die horribly in this world,and to be tortured through eternity by demons in the next. Forget all that mayhave been said in the hour of your weighing, for the balance is in your favour,and be sure that if you give us no cause to doubt you, you shall find none todoubt us. Now as the husband of Otomie, you are a lord among the lords, havinghonour and great possessions, and as such be seated by your brother Guatemoc,and join our council.”

I did as he bade me, and Otomie withdrew from our presence. Then Cuitlahuaspoke again, no longer of me and my matters, but of the urgent affairs ofstate. He spoke in slow words and weighty, and more than once his voice brokein his sorrow. He told of the grievous misfortunes that had overcome thecountry, of the death of hundreds of its bravest warriors, of the slaughter ofthe priests and soldiers that day on the teocalli, and the desecrationof his nation’s gods. What was to be done in this extremity? he asked.Montezuma lay dying, a prisoner in the camp of the Teules, and the fire that hehad nursed with his breath devoured the land. No efforts of theirs could breakthe iron strength of these white devils, armed as they were with strange andterrible weapons. Day by day disaster overtook the arms of the Aztecs. Whatwisdom had they now that the protecting gods were shattered in their veryshrines, when the altars ran red with the blood of their ministering priests,when the oracles were dumb or answered only in the accents of despair?

Then one by one princes and generals arose and gave counsel according to theirlights. At length all had spoken, and Cuitlahua said, looking towards me:

“We have a new counsellor among us, who is skilled in the warfare andcustoms of the white men, who till an hour ago was himself a white man. Has heno word of comfort for us?”

“Speak, my brother?” said Guatemoc.

Then I spoke. “Most noble Cuitlahua, and you lords and princes. Youhonour me by asking my counsel, and it is this in few words and brief. Youwaste your strength by hurling your armies continually against stone walls andthe weapons of the Teules. So you shall not prevail against them. Your devicesmust be changed if you would win victory. The Spaniards are like other men;they are no gods as the ignorant imagine, and the creatures on which they rideare not demons but beasts of burden, such as are used for many purposes in theland where I was born. The Spaniards are men I say, and do not men hunger andthirst? Cannot men be worn out by want of sleep, and be killed in many ways?Are not these Teules already weary to the death? This then is my word ofcomfort to you. Cease to attack the Spaniards and invest their camp so closelythat no food can reach them and their allies the Tlascalans. If this is done,within ten days from now, either they will surrender or they will strive tobreak their way back to the coast. But to do this, first they must win out ofthe city, and if dykes are cut through the causeways, that will be no easymatter. Then when they strive to escape cumbered with the gold they covet andcame here to seek, then I say will be the hour to attack them and to destroythem utterly.”

I ceased, and a murmur of applause went round the council.

“It seems that we came to a wise judgment when we determined to sparethis man’s life,” said Cuitlahua, “for all that he tells usis true, and I would that we had followed this policy from the first. Now,lords, I give my voice for acting as our brother points the way. What sayyou?”

“We say with you that our brother’s words are good,” answeredGuatemoc presently, “and now let us follow them to the end.”

Then, after some further talk, the council broke up and I sought my chamberwell nigh blind with weariness and crushed by the weight of all that I hadsuffered on that eventful day. The dawn was flaring in the eastern sky, and byits glimmer I found my path down the empty corridors, till at length I came tothe curtains of my sleeping place. I drew them and passed through. There, farup the room, the faint light gleaming on her snowy dress, her raven hair andornaments of gold, stood Otomie my bride.

I went towards her, and as I came she glided to meet me with outstretched arms.Presently they were about my neck and her kiss was on my brow.

“Now all is done, my love and lord,” she whispered, “and comegood or ill, or both, we are one till death, for such vows as ours cannot bebroken.”

“All is done indeed, Otomie, and our oaths are lifelong, though otheroaths have been broken that they might be sworn,” I answered.

Thus then I, Thomas Wingfield, was wed to Otomie, princess of the Otomie,Montezuma’s daughter.

CHAPTER XXIV
THE NIGHT OF FEAR

Long before I awoke that day the commands of the council had been carried out,and the bridges in the great causeways were broken down wherever dykes crossedthe raised roads that ran through the waters of the lake. That afternoon also Iwent dressed as an Indian warrior with Guatemoc and the other generals, to aparley which was held with Cortes, who took his stand on the same tower of thepalace that Montezuma had stood on when the arrow of Guatemoc struck him down.There is little to be said of this parley, and I remember it chiefly because itwas then for the first time since I had left the Tobascans that I saw Marinaclose, and heard her sweet and gentle voice. For now as ever she was by theside of Cortes, translating his proposals of peace to the Aztecs. Among thoseproposals was one which showed me that de Garcia had not been idle. It askedthat the false white man who had been rescued from the altars of the gods uponthe teocallishould be given in exchange for certain Aztec prisoners, inorder that he might be hung according to his merits as a spy and deserter, atraitor to the emperor of Spain. I wondered as I heard, if Marina knew when shespoke the words, that “the false white man” was none other than thefriend of her Tobascan days.

“You see that you are fortunate in having found place among us Aztecs,Teule,” said Guatemoc with a laugh, “for your own people wouldgreet you with a rope.”

Then he answered Cortes, saying nothing of me, but bidding him and all theSpaniards prepare for death:

“Many of us have perished,” he said; “you also must perish,Teules. You shall perish of hunger and thirst, you shall perish on the altarsof the gods. There is no escape for you Teules; the bridges are broken.”

And all the multitude took up the words and thundered out, “There is noescape for you Teules; the bridges are broken!”

Then the shooting of arrows began, and I sought the palace to tell Otomie mywife what I had gathered of the state of her father Montezuma, who theSpaniards said still lay dying, and of her two sisters who were hostages intheir quarters. Also I told her how my surrender had been sought, and shekissed me, and said smiling, that though my life was now burdened with her,still it was better so than that I should fall into the hands of the Spaniards.

Two days later came the news that Montezuma was dead, and shortly after it hisbody, which the Spaniards handed over to the Aztecs for burial, attired in thegorgeous robes of royalty. They laid it in the hall of the palace, whence itwas hurried secretly and at night to Chapoltepec, and there hidden away withsmall ceremony, for it was feared that the people might rend it limb from limbin their rage. With Otomie weeping at my side, I looked for the last time onthe face of that most unhappy king, whose reign so glorious in its beginninghad ended thus. And while I looked I wondered what suffering could haveequalled his, as fallen from his estate and hated by the subjects whom he hadbetrayed, he lay dying, a prisoner in the power of the foreign wolves who weretearing out his country’s heart. It is little wonder indeed thatMontezuma rent the bandages from his wounds and would not suffer them to tendhis hurts. For the real hurt was in his soul; there the iron had entereddeeply, and no leech could cure it except one called Death. And yet the faultwas not all his, the devils whom he worshipped as gods were revenged upon him,for they had filled him with the superstitions of their wicked faith, andbecause of these the gods and their high priest must sink into a common ruin.Were it not for these unsubstantial terrors that haunted him, the Spaniards hadnever won a foothold in Tenoctitlan, and the Aztecs would have remained freefor many a year to come. But Providence willed it otherwise, and this dead anddisgraced monarch was but its instrument.

Such were the thoughts that passed through my mind as I gazed upon the body ofthe great Montezuma. But Otomie, ceasing from her tears, kissed his clay andcried aloud:

“O my father, it is well that you are dead, for none who loved you coulddesire to see you live on in shame and servitude. May the gods you worshippedgive me strength to avenge you, or if they be no gods, then may I find it inmyself. I swear this, my father, that while a man is left to me I will notcease from seeking to avenge you.”

Then taking my hand, without another word she turned and passed thence. As willbe seen, she kept her oath.

On that day and on the morrow there was fighting with the Spaniards, whosallied out to fill up the gaps in the dykes of the causeway, a task in whichthey succeeded, though with some loss. But it availed them nothing, for so soonas their backs were turned we opened the dykes again. It was on these days thatfor the first time I had experience of war, and armed with my bow made afterthe English pattern, I did good service. As it chanced, the very first arrowthat I drew was on my hated foe de Garcia, but here my common fortune pursuedme, for being out of practice, or over-anxious, I aimed too high, though themark was an easy one, and the shaft pierced the iron of his casque, causing himto reel in his saddle, but doing him no further hurt. Still this marksmanship,poor as it was, gained me great renown among the Aztecs, who were but feeblearchers, for they had never before seen an arrow pierce through the Spanishmail. Nor would mine have done so had I not collected the iron barbs off thecrossbow bolts of the Spaniards, and fitted them to my own shafts. I seldomfound the mail that would withstand arrows made thus, when the range was shortand the aim good.

After the first day’s fight I was appointed general over a body of threethousand archers, and was given a banner to be borne before me and a gorgeouscaptain’s dress to wear. But what pleased me better was a chain shirtwhich came from the body of a Spanish cavalier. For many years I always worethis shirt beneath my cotton mail, and it saved my life more than once, foreven bullets would not pierce the two of them.

I had taken over the command of my archers but forty-eight hours, a scant timein which to teach them discipline whereof they had little, though they werebrave enough, when the occasion came to use them in good earnest, and with itthe night of disaster that is still known among the Spaniards as the nochetriste. On the afternoon before that night a council was held in the palaceat which I spoke, saying, I was certain that the Teules thought of retreat fromthe city, and in the dark, for otherwise they would not have been so eager tofill up the canals in the causeway. To this Cuitlahua, who now that Montezumawas dead would be emperor, though he was not yet chosen and crowned, answeredthat it might well be that the Teules meditated flight, but that they couldnever attempt it in the darkness, since in so doing they must become entangledin the streets and dykes.

I replied that though it was not the Aztec habit to march and fight at night,such things were common enough among white men as they had seen already, andthat because the Spaniards knew it was not their habit, they would be the morelikely to attempt escape under cover of the darkness, when they thought theirenemies asleep. Therefore I counselled that sentries should be set at all theentrances to every causeway. To this Cuitlahua assented, and assigned thecauseway of Tlacopan to Guatemoc and myself, making us the guardians of itssafety. That night Guatemoc and I, with some soldiers, went out towardsmidnight to visit the guard that we had placed upon the causeway. It was verydark and a fine rain fell, so that a man could see no further before his eyesthan he can at evening through a Norfolk roke in autumn. We found and relievedthe guard, which reported that all was quiet, and we were returning towards thegreat square when of a sudden I heard a dull sound as of thousands of mentramping.

“Listen,” I said.

“It is the Teules who escape,” whispered Guatemoc.

Quickly we ran to where the street from the great square opens on to thecauseway, and there even through the darkness and rain we caught the gleam ofarmour. Then I cried aloud in a great voice, “To arms! To arms! TheTeules escape by the causeway of Tlacopan.”

Instantly my words were caught up by the sentries and passed from post to posttill the city rang with them. They were cried in every street and canal, theyechoed from the roofs of houses, and among the summits of a hundred temples.The city awoke with a murmur, from the lake came the sound of water beaten byten thousand oars, as though myriads of wild-fowl had sprung suddenly fromtheir reedy beds. Here, there, and everywhere torches flashed out like fallingstars, wild notes were blown on horns and shells, and above all arose thebooming of the snakeskin drum which the priests upon the teocallibeatfuriously.

Presently the murmur grew to a roar, and from this direction and from that,armed men poured towards the causeway of Tlacopan. Some came on foot, but themost of them were in canoes which covered the waters of the lake further thanthe ear could hear. Now the Spaniards to the number of fifteen hundred or so,accompanied by some six or eight thousand Tlascalans, were emerging on thecauseway in a long thin line. Guatemoc and I rushed before them, collecting menas we went, till we came to the first canal, where canoes were alreadygathering by scores. The head of the Spanish column reached the canal and thefight began, which so far as the Aztecs were concerned was a fray without planor order, for in that darkness and confusion the captains could not see theirmen or the men hear their captains. But they were there in countless numbersand had only one desire in their breasts, to kill the Teules. A cannon roared,sending a storm of bullets through us, and by its flash we saw that theSpaniards carried a timber bridge with them, which they were placing across thecanal. Then we fell on them, every man fighting for himself. Guatemoc and Iwere swept over that bridge by the first rush of the enemy, as leaves are sweptin a gale, and though both of us won through safely we saw each other no morethat night. With us and after us came the long array of Spaniards andTlascalans, and from every side the Aztecs poured upon them, clinging to theirstruggling line as ants cling to a wounded worm.

How can I tell all that came to pass that night? I cannot, for I saw but littleof it. All I know is that for two hours I was fighting like a madman. The foecrossed the first canal, but when all were over the bridge was sunk so deep inthe mud that it could not be stirred, and three furlongs on ran a second canaldeeper and wider than the first. Over this they could not cross till it wasbridged with the dead. It seemed as though all hell had broken loose upon thatnarrow ridge of ground. The sound of cannons and of arquebusses, the shrieks ofagony and fear, the shouts of the Spanish soldiers, the war-cries of theAztecs, the screams of wounded horses, the wail of women, the hiss of hurtlingdarts and arrows, and the dull noise of falling blows went up to heaven in onehideous hurly-burly. Like a frightened mob of cattle the long Spanish arrayswayed this way and that, bellowing as it swayed. Many rolled down the sides ofthe causeway to be slaughtered in the water of the lake, or borne away tosacrifice in the canoes, many were drowned in the canals, and yet more weretrampled to death in the mud. Hundreds of the Aztecs perished also, for themost part beneath the weapons of their own friends, who struck and shot notknowing on whom the blow should fall or in whose breast the arrow would findits home.

For my part I fought on with a little band of men who had gathered about me,till at last the dawn broke and showed an awful sight. The most of those whowere left alive of the Spaniards and their allies had crossed the second canalupon a bridge made of the dead bodies of their fellows mixed up with a wreck ofbaggage, cannon, and packages of treasure. Now the fight was raging beyond it.A mob of Spaniards and Tlascalans were still crossing the second breach, and onthese I fell with such men as were with me. I plunged right into the heart ofthem, and suddenly before me I saw the face of de Garcia. With a shout I rushedat him. He heard my voice and knew me. With an oath he struck at my head. Theheavy sword came down upon my helmet of painted wood, shearing away one side ofit and felling me, but ere I fell I smote him on the breast with the club Icarried, tumbling him to the earth. Now half stunned and blinded I crepttowards him through the press. All that I could see was a gleam of armour inthe mud. I threw myself upon it, gripping at the wearer’s throat, andtogether we rolled down the side of the causeway into the shallow water at theedge of the lake. I was uppermost, and with a fierce joy I dashed the bloodfrom my eyes that I might see to kill my enemy caught at last. His body was inthe lake but his head lay upon the sloping bank, and my plan was to hold himbeneath the water till he was drowned, for I had lost my club.

“At length, de Garcia!” I cried in Spanish as I shifted my grip.

“For the love of God let me go!” gasped a rough voice beneath me.“Fool, I am no Indian dog.”

Now I peered into the man’s face bewildered. I had seized de Garcia, butthe voice was not his voice, nor was the face his face, but that of a roughSpanish soldier.

“Who are you?” I asked, slackening my hold. “Where is deGarcia—he whom you name Sarceda?”

“Sarceda? I don’t know. A minute ago he was on his back on thecauseway. The fellow pulled me down and rolled behind me. Let me be I say. I amnot Sarceda, and if I were, is this a time to settle private quarrels? I amyour comrade, Bernal Diaz. Holy Mother! who are you? An Aztec who speaksCastilian?”

“I am no Aztec,” I answered. “I am an Englishman and I fightwith the Aztecs that I may slay him whom you name Sarceda. But with you I haveno quarrel, Bernal Diaz. Begone and escape if you can. No, I will keep thesword with your leave.”

“Englishman, Spaniard, Aztec, or devil,” grunted the man as he drewhimself from his bed of ooze, “you are a good fellow, and I promise youthat if I live through this, and it should ever come about that I getyouby the throat, I will remember the turn you did me. Farewell;”and without more ado he rushed up the bank and plunged into a knot of hisflying countrymen, leaving his good sword in my hand. I strove to follow himthat I might find my enemy, who once more had escaped me by craft, but mystrength failed me, for de Garcia’s sword had bitten deep and I bledmuch. So I must sit where I was till a canoe came and bore me back to Otomie tobe nursed, and ten days went by before I could walk again.

This was my share in the victory of the noche triste. Alas! it was abarren triumph, though more than five hundred of the Spaniards were slain andthousands of their allies. For there was no warlike skill or discipline amongthe Aztecs, and instead of following the Spaniards till not one of themremained alive, they stayed to plunder the dead and drag away the living tosacrifice. Also this day of revenge was a sad one to Otomie, seeing that two ofher brothers, Montezuma’s sons whom the Spaniards held in hostage,perished with them in the fray.

As for de Garcia I could not learn what had become of him, nor whether he wasdead or living.

CHAPTER XXV
THE BURYING OF MONTEZUMA’S TREASURE

Cuitlahua was crowned Emperor of the Aztecs in succession to his brotherMontezuma, while I lay sick with the wound given me by the sword of de Garcia,and also with that which I had received on the altar of sacrifice. This hurthad found no time to heal, and in the fierce fighting on the Night of Fear itburst open and bled much. Indeed it gave me trouble for years, and to this hourI feel it in the autumn season. Otomie, who nursed me tenderly, and so strangeis the heart of woman, even seemed to be consoled in her sorrow at the loss ofher father and nearest kin, because I had escaped the slaughter and won fame,told me of the ceremony of the crowning, which was splendid enough. Indeed theAztecs were almost mad with rejoicing because the Teules had gone at last. Theyforgot, or seemed to forget, the loss of thousands of their bravest warriorsand of the flower of their rank, and as yet, at any rate, they did not lookforward to the future. From house to house and street to street ran troops ofyoung men and maidens garlanded with flowers, crying, “The Teules aregone, rejoice with us; the Teules are fled!” and woe to them who were notmerry, ay, even though their houses were desolate with death. Also the statuesof the gods were set up again on the great pyramid and their temples rebuilt,the holy crucifix that the Spaniards had placed there being served as the idolsHuitzel and Tezcat had been served, and tumbled down the sides of theteocalli, and that after sacrifice of some Spanish prisoners had beenoffered in its presence. It was Guatemoc himself who told me of this sacrilege,but not with any exultation, for I had taught him something of our faith, andthough he was too sturdy a heathen to change his creed, in secret he believedthat the God of the Christians was a true and mighty God. Moreover, though hewas obliged to countenance them, because of the power of the priests, likeOtomie, Guatemoc never loved the horrid rites of human sacrifice.

Now when I heard this tale my anger overcame my reason, and I spoke fiercely,saying:

“I am sworn to your cause, Guatemoc, my brother, and I am married to yourblood, but I tell you that from this hour it is an accursed cause; because ofyour bloodstained idols and your priests, it is accursed. That God whom youhave desecrated, and those who serve Him shall come back in power, and He shallsit where your idols sat and none shall stir Him for ever.”

Thus I spoke, and my words were true, though I do not know what put them intomy heart, since I spoke at random in my wrath. For to-day Christ’s Churchstands upon the site of the place of sacrifice in Mexico, a sign and a token ofHis triumph over devils, and there it shall stand while the world endures.

“You speak rashly, my brother,” Guatemoc answered, proudly enough,though I saw him quail at the evil omen of my words. “I say you speakrashly, and were you overheard there are those, notwithstanding the rank wehave given you, the honour which you have won in war and council, and that youhave passed the stone of sacrifice, who might force you to look again upon thefaces of the beings you blaspheme. What worse thing has been done to yourChristian God than has been done again and again to our gods by your whitekindred? But let us talk no more of this matter, and I pray you, my brother, donot utter such ill-omened words to me again, lest it should strain our love. Doyou then believe that the Teules will return?”

“Ay, Guatemoc, so surely as to-morrow’s sun shall rise. When youheld Cortes in your hand you let him go, and since then he has won a victory atOtompan. Is he a man, think you, to sheathe the sword that he has once drawn,and go down into darkness and dishonour? Before a year is past the Spaniardswill be back at the gates of Tenoctitlan.”

“You are no comforter to-night, my brother,” said Guatemoc,“and yet I fear that your words are true. Well, if we must fight, let usstrive to win. Now, at least, there is no Montezuma to take the viper to hisbreast and nurse it till it stings him.” Then he rose and went insilence, and I saw that his heart was heavy.

On the morrow of this talk I could leave my bed, and within a week I was almostwell. Now it was that Guatemoc came to me again, saying that he had been biddenby Cuitlahua the emperor, to command me to accompany him, Guatemoc, on aservice of trust and secrecy. And indeed the nature of the service showed howgreat a confidence the leaders of the Aztecs now placed in me, for it was noneother than the hiding away of the treasure that had been recaptured from theSpaniards on the Night of Fear, and with it much more from the secret stores ofthe empire.

At the fall of darkness we started, some of the great lords, Guatemoc and I,and coming to the water’s edge, we found ten large canoes, each ladenwith something that was hidden by cotton cloths. Into these canoes we enteredsecretly, thinking that none saw us, three to a canoe, for there were thirty ofus in all, and led by Guatemoc, we paddled for two hours or more across theLake Tezcuco, till we reached the further shore at a spot where this prince hada fair estate. Here we landed, and the cloths were withdrawn from the cargoesof the canoes, which were great jars and sacks of gold and jewels, besides manyother precious objects, among them a likeness of the head of Montezuma,fashioned in solid gold, which was so heavy that it was as much as Guatemoc andI could do to lift it between us. As for the jars, of which, if my memoryserves me, there were seventeen, six men must carry each of them by the help ofpaddles lashed on either side, and then the task was not light. All thispriceless stuff we bore in several journeys to the crest of a rise some sixhundred paces distant from the water, setting it down by the mouth of a shaftbehind the shelter of a mound of earth. When everything was brought up from theboats, Guatemoc touched me and another man, a great Aztec noble, born of aTlascalan mother, on the shoulder, asking us if we were willing to descend withhim into the hole, and there to dispose of the treasure.

“Gladly,” I answered, for I was curious to see the place, but thenoble hesitated awhile, though in the end he came with us, to his ill-fortune.

Then Guatemoc took torches in his hand, and was lowered into the shaft by arope. Next came my turn, and down I went, hanging to the cord like a spider toits thread, and the hole was very deep. At length I found myself standing bythe side of Guatemoc at the foot of the shaft, round which, as I saw by thelight of the torch he carried, an edging of dried bricks was built up to theheight of a man above our heads. Resting on this edging and against the wall ofthe shaft, was a massive block of stone sculptured with the picture writing ofthe Aztecs. I glanced at the writing, which I could now read well, and saw thatit recorded the burying of the treasure in the first year of Cuitlahua, Emperorof Mexico, and also a most fearful curse on him who should dare to steal it.Beyond us and at right angles to the shaft ran another passage, ten paces inlength and high enough for a man to walk in, which led to a chamber hollowed inthe earth, as large as that wherein I write to-day at Ditchingham. By the mouthof this chamber were placed piles of adobebricks and mortar, much asthe blocks of hewn stone had been placed in that underground vault at Sevillewhere Isabella de Siguenza was bricked up living.

“Who dug this place?” I asked.

“Those who knew not what they dug,” answered Guatemoc. “Butsee, here is our companion. Now, my brother, I charge you be surprised atnothing which comes to pass, and be assured I have good reason for anythingthat I may do.”

Before I could speak again the Aztec noble was at our side. Then those abovebegan to lower the jars and sacks of treasure, and as they reached us one byone, Guatemoc loosed the ropes and checked them, while the Aztec and I rolledthem down the passage into the chamber, as here in England men roll a cask ofale. For two hours and more we worked, till at length all were down and thetale was complete. The last parcel to be lowered was a sack of jewels thatburst open as it came, and descended upon us in a glittering rain of gems. Asit chanced, a great necklace of emeralds of surpassing size and beauty fellover my head and hung upon my shoulders.

“Keep it, brother,” laughed Guatemoc, “in memory of thisnight,” and nothing loth, I hid the bauble in my breast. That necklace Ihave yet, and it was a stone of it—the smallest save one—that Igave to our gracious Queen Elizabeth. Otomie wore it for many years, and forthis reason it shall be buried with me, though its value is priceless, so saythose who are skilled in gems. But priceless or no, it is doomed to lie in themould of Ditchingham churchyard, and may that same curse which is graved uponthe stone that hides the treasure of the Aztecs fall upon him who steals itfrom my bones.

Now, leaving the chamber, we three entered the tunnel and began the work ofbuilding the adobewall. When it was of a height of between two andthree feet, Guatemoc paused from his labour and bade me hold a torch aloft. Iobeyed wondering what he wished to see. Then he drew back some three paces intothe tunnel and spoke to the Aztec noble, our companion, by name.

“What is the fate of discovered traitors, friend?” he said in avoice that, quiet though it was, sounded very terrible; and, as he spoke, heloosed from his side the war club set with spikes of glass that hung there by athong.

Now the Aztec turned grey beneath his dusky skin and trembled in his fear.

“What mean you, lord?” he gasped.

“You know well what I mean,” answered Guatemoc in the same terriblevoice, and lifted the club.

Then the doomed man fell upon his knees crying for mercy, and his wailingsounded so awful in that deep and lonely place that in my horror I went near toletting the torch fall.

“To a foe I can give mercy—to a traitor, none,” answeredGuatemoc, and whirling the club aloft, he rushed upon the noble and killed himwith a blow. Then, seizing the body in his strong embrace, he cast it into thechamber with the treasure, and there it lay still and dreadful among the gemsand gold, the arms, as it chanced, being wound about two of the great jars asthough the dead man would clasp them to his heart.

Now I looked at Guatemoc who had slain him, wondering if my hour was at handalso, for I knew well that when princes bury their wealth they hold that fewshould share the secret.

“Fear not, my brother,” said Guatemoc. “Listen: this man wasa thief, a dastard, and a traitor. As we know now, he strove twice to betray usto the Teules. More, it was his plan to show this nest of wealth to them,should they return again, and to share the spoil. All this we learned from awoman whom he thought his love, but who was in truth a spy set to worm herselfinto the secrets of his wicked heart. Now let him take his fill of gold; lookhow he grips it even in death, a white man could not hug the stuff more closelyto his breast. Ah! Teule, would that the soil of Anahuac bore naught but cornfor bread and flint and copper for the points of spears and arrows, then hadher sons been free for ever. Curses on yonder dross, for it is the bait thatsets these sea sharks tearing at our throats. Curses on it, I say; may it neverglitter more in the sunshine, may it be lost for ever!” And he fellfiercely to the work of building up the wall.

Soon it was almost done; but before we set the last bricks, which were shapedin squares like the clay lump that we use for the building of farmeries andhinds’ houses in Norfolk, I thrust a torch through the opening and lookedfor the last time at the treasure chamber that was also a dead-house. There laythe glittering gems; there, stood upon a jar, gleamed the golden head ofMontezuma, of which the emerald eyes seemed to glare at me, and there, his backresting against this same jar, and his arms encircling two others to the rightand left, was the dead man. But he was no longer dead, or so it seemed to me;at the least his eyes that were shut had opened, and they stared at me like theemerald eyes of the golden statue above him, only more fearfully.

Very hastily I withdrew the torch, and we finished in silence. When it was donewe withdrew to the end of the passage and looked up the shaft, and I for onewas glad to see the stars shining in heaven above me. Then we made a doubleloop in the rope, and at a signal were hauled up till we hung over the ledgewhere the black mass of marble rested, the tombstone of Montezuma’streasure, and of him who sleeps among it.

This stone, that was nicely balanced, we pushed with our hands and feet tillpresently it fell forward with a heavy sound, and catching on the ridge ofbrick which had been prepared to receive it, shut the treasure shaft in such afashion that those who would enter it again must take powder with them.

Then we were dragged up, and came to the surface of the earth in safety.

Now one asked of the Aztec noble who had gone down with us and returned nomore.

“He has chosen to stay and watch the treasure, like a good and loyal man,till such time as his king needs it,” answered Guatemoc grimly, and thelisteners nodded, understanding all.

Then they fell to and filled up the narrow shaft with the earth that lay ready,working without cease, and the dawn broke before the task was finished. When atlength the hole was full, one of our companions took seeds from a bag andscattered them on the naked earth, also he set two young trees that he hadbrought with him in the soil of the shaft, though why he did this I do notknow, unless it was to mark the spot. All being done we gathered up the ropesand tools, and embarking in the canoes, came back to Mexico in the morning,leaving the canoes at a landing-place outside the city, and finding our way toour homes by ones and twos, as we thought unnoticed of any.

Thus it was that I helped in the burying of Montezuma’s treasure, for thesake of which I was destined to suffer torture in days to come. Whether anywill help to unbury it I do not know, but till I left the land of Anahuac thesecret had been kept, and I think that then, except myself, all those were deadwho laboured with me at this task. It chanced that I passed the spot as I camedown to Mexico for the last time, and knew it again by the two trees that weregrowing tall and strong, and as I went by with Spaniards at my side, I swore inmy heart that they should never finger the gold by my help. It is for thisreason that even now I do not write of the exact bearings of the place where itlies buried with the bones of the traitor, though I know them well enough,seeing that in days to come what I set down here might fall into the hands ofone of their nation.

And now, before I go on to speak of the siege of Mexico, I must tell of onemore matter, namely of how I and Otomie my wife went up among the people of theOtomie, and won a great number of them back to their allegiance to the Azteccrown. It must be known, if my tale has not made this clear already, that theAztec power was not of one people, but built up of several, and thatsurrounding it were many other tribes, some of whom were in alliance with it orsubject to it, and some of whom were its deadly enemies. Such for instance werethe Tlascalans, a small but warlike people living between Mexico and the coast,by whose help Cortes overcame Montezuma and Guatemoc. Beyond the Tlascalans andto the west, the great Otomie race lived or lives among its mountains. They area braver nation than the Aztecs, speaking another language, of a differentblood, and made up of many clans. Sometimes they were subject to the greatAztec empire, sometimes in alliance, and sometimes at open war with it and inclose friendship with the Tlascalans. It was to draw the tie closer between theAztecs and the Otomies, who were to the inhabitants of Anahuac much what theScottish clans are to the people of England, that Montezuma took to wife thedaughter and sole legitimate issue of their great chief or king. This lady diedin childbirth, and her child was Otomie my wife, hereditary princess of theOtomie. But though her rank was so great among her mother’s people, asyet Otomie had visited them but twice, and then as a child. Still, she was wellskilled in their language and customs, having been brought up by nurses andtutors of the tribes, from which she drew a great revenue every year and overwhom she exercised many rights of royalty that were rendered to her far morefreely than they had been to Montezuma her father.

Now as has been said, some of these Otomie clans had joined the Tlascalans, andas their allies had taken part in the war on the side of the Spaniards,therefore it was decided at a solemn council that Otomie and I her husbandshould go on an embassy to the chief town of the nation, that was known as theCity of Pines, and strive to win it back to the Aztec standard.

Accordingly, heralds having been sent before us, we started upon our journey,not knowing how we should be received at the end of it. For eight days wetravelled in great pomp and with an ever-increasing escort, for when the tribesof the Otomie learned that their princess was come to visit them in person,bringing with her her husband, a man of the Teules who had espoused the Azteccause, they flocked in vast numbers to swell her retinue, so that it came topass that before we reached the City of Pines we were accompanied by an army ofat least ten thousand mountaineers, great men and wild, who made a savage musicas we marched. But with them and with their chiefs as yet we held no converseexcept by way of formal greeting, though every morning when we started on ourjourney, Otomie in a litter and I on a horse that had been captured from theSpaniards, they set up shouts of salutation and made the mountains ring. Everas we went the land like its people grew wilder and more beautiful, for now wewere passing through forests clad with oak and pine and with many a lovelyplant and fern. Sometimes we crossed great and sparkling rivers and sometimeswe wended through gorges and passes of the mountains, but every hour we mountedhigher, till at length the climate became like that of England, only far morebright. At last on the eighth day we passed through a gorge riven in the redrock, which was so narrow in places that three horsemen could scarcely haveridden there abreast. This gorge, that is five miles long, is the high road tothe City of Pines, to which there was no other access except by secret pathsacross the mountains, and on either side of it are sheer and towering cliffsthat rise to heights of between one and two thousand feet.

“Here is a place where a hundred men might hold an army at bay,” Isaid to Otomie, little knowing that it would be my task to do so in a day tocome.

Presently the gorge took a turn and I reined up amazed, for before me was theCity of Pines in all its beauty. The city lay in a wheelshaped plain that maymeasure twelve miles across, and all around this plain are mountains clad totheir summits with forests of oak and cedar trees. At the back of the city andin the centre of the ring of mountains is one, however, that is not green withfoliage but black with lava, and above the lava white with snow, over whichagain hangs a pillar of smoke by day and a pillar of fire by night. This wasthe volcan Xaca, or the Queen, and though it is not so lofty as its sistersOrizaba, Popo, and Ixtac, to my mind it is the loveliest of them all, bothbecause of its perfect shape, and of the colours, purple and blue, of the firesthat it sends forth at night or when its heart is troubled. The Otomiesworshipped this mountain as a god, offering human sacrifice to it, which wasnot wonderful, for once the lava pouring from its bowels cut a path through theCity of Pines. Also they think it holy and haunted, so that none dare set footupon its loftier snows. Nevertheless I was destined to climb them—I andone other.

Now in the lap of this ring of mountains and watched over by the mighty Xaca,clad in its robe of snow, its cap of smoke, and its crown of fire, lies, orrather lay the City of Pines, for now it is a ruin, or so I left it. As to thecity itself, it was not so large as some others that I have seen in Anahuac,having only a population of some five and thirty thousand souls, since theOtomie, being a race of mountaineers, did not desire to dwell in cities. But ifit was not great, it was the most beautiful of Indian towns, being laid out instraight streets that met at the square in its centre. All along these streetswere houses each standing in a garden, and for the most part built of blocks oflava and roofed with a cement of white lime. In the midst of the square stoodthe teocallior pyramid of worship, crowned with temples that weregarnished with ropes of skulls, while beyond the pyramid and facing it, was thepalace, the home of Otomie’s forefathers, a long, low, and very ancientbuilding having many courts, and sculptured everywhere with snakes and grinninggods. Both the palace and the pyramid were cased with a fine white stone thatshone like silver in the sunlight, and contrasted strangely with the dark-huedhouses that were built of lava.

Such was the City of Pines when I saw it first. When I saw it last it was but asmoking ruin, and now doubtless it is the home of bats and jackals; now it is“a court for owls,” now “the line of confusion is stretchedout upon it and the stones of emptiness fill its streets.”

Passing from the mouth of the gorge we travelled some miles across the plain,every foot of which was cultivated with corn, magueyor aloe, and othercrops, till we came to one of the four gates of the city. Entering it we foundthe flat roofs on either side of the wide street crowded with hundreds of womenand children who threw flowers on us as we passed, and cried, “Welcome,princess! Welcome, Otomie, princess of the Otomie!” And when at length wereached the great square, it seemed as though all the men in Anahuac weregathered there, and they too took up the cry of “Welcome, Otomie,princess of the Otomie!” till the earth shook with the sound. Me alsothey saluted as I passed, by touching the earth with their right hands and thenholding the hand above the head, but I think that the horse I rode caused themmore wonder than I did, for the most of them had never seen a horse and lookedon it as a monster or a demon. So we went on through the shouting mass,followed and preceded by thousands of warriors, many of them decked inglittering feather mail and bearing broidered banners, till we had passed thepyramid, where I saw the priests at their cruel work above us, and were come tothe palace gates. And here in a strange chamber sculptured with grinning demonswe found rest for a while.

On the morrow in the great hall of the palace was held a council of the chiefsand head men of the Otomie clans, to the number of a hundred or more. When allwere gathered, dressed as an Aztec noble of the first rank, I came out withOtomie, who wore royal robes and looked most beautiful in them, and the councilrose to greet us. Otomie bade them be seated and addressed them thus:

“Hear me, you chiefs and captains of my mother’s race, who am yourprincess by right of blood, the last of your ancient rulers, and who ammoreover the daughter of Montezuma, Emperor of Anahuac, now dead to us butliving evermore in the Mansions of the Sun. First I present to you this myhusband, the lord Teule, to whom I was given in marriage when he held thespirit of the god Tezcat, and whom, when he had passed the altar of the god,being chosen by heaven to aid us in our war, I wedded anew after the fashion ofthe earth, and by the will of my royal brethren. Know, chiefs and captains,that this lord, my husband, is not of our Indian blood, nor is he altogether ofthe blood of the Teules with whom we are at war, but rather of that of the truechildren of Quetzal, the dwellers in a far off northern sea who are foes to theTeules. And as they are foes, so this my lord is their foe, and as doubtlessyou have heard, of all the deeds of arms that were wrought upon the night ofthe slaying of the Teules, none were greater than his, and it was he who firstdiscovered their retreat.

“Chiefs and captains of the great and ancient people of the Otomie, Iyour princess have been sent to you by Cuitlahua, my king and yours, togetherwith my lord, to plead with you on a certain matter. Our king has heard, and Ialso have heard with shame, that many of the warriors of our blood have joinedthe Tlascalans, who were ever foes to the Aztecs, in their unholy alliance withthe Teules. Now for a while the white men are beaten back, but they havetouched the gold they covet, and they will return again like bees to ahalf-drained flower. They will return, yet of themselves they can do nothingagainst the glory of Tenoctitlan. But how shall it go if with them comethousands and tens of thousands of the Indian peoples? I know well that now inthis time of trouble, when kingdoms crumble, when the air is full of portents,and the very gods seem impotent, there are many who would seize the moment andturn it to their profit. There are many men and tribes who remember ancientwars and wrongs, and who cry, ‘Now is the hour of vengeance, now we willthink on the widows that the Aztec spears have made, on the tribute which theyhave wrung from our poverty to swell their wealth, and on the captives who havedecked the altars of their sacrifice!’

“Is it not so? Ay, it is so, and I cannot wonder at it. Yet I ask you toremember this, that the yoke you would help to set upon the neck of the queenof cities will fit your neck also. O foolish men, do you think that you shallbe spared when by your aid Tenoctitlan is a ruin and the Aztecs are no more apeople? I say to you never. The sticks that the Teules use to beat out the lifeof Tenoctitlan shall by them be broken one by one and cast into the fire toburn. If the Aztecs fall, then early or late every tribe within this wide landshall fall. They shall be slain, their cities shall be stamped flat, theirwealth shall be wrung from them, and their children shall eat the bread ofslavery and drink the water of affliction. Choose, ye people of the Otomie.Will you stand by the men of your own customs and country, though they havebeen your foes at times, or will you throw in your lot with the stranger?Choose, ye people of the Otomie, and know this, that on your choice and that ofthe other men of Anahuac, depends the fate of Anahuac. I am your princess, andyou should obey me, but to-day I issue no command. I say choose between thealliance of the Aztec and the yoke of the Teule, and may the god above thegods, the almighty, the invisible god, direct your choice.”

Otomie ceased and a murmur of applause went round the hall. Alas, I can do nojustice to the fire of her words, any more than I can describe the dignity andloveliness of her person as it seemed in that hour. But they went to the heartsof the rude chieftains who listened. Many of them despised the Aztecs as awomanish people of the plains and the lakes, a people of commerce. Many hadblood feuds against them dating back for generations. But still they knew thattheir princess spoke truth, and that the triumph of the Teule in Tenoctitlanwould mean his triumph over every city throughout the land. So then and therethey chose, though in after days, in the stress of defeat and trouble, manywent back upon their choice as is the fashion of men.

“Otomie,” cried their spokesman, after they had taken counseltogether, “we have chosen. Princess, your words have conquered us. Wethrow in our lot with the Aztecs and will fight to the last for freedom fromthe Teule.”

“Now I see that you are indeed my people, and I am indeed yourruler,” answered Otomie. “So the great lords who are gone, myforefathers, your chieftains, would have spoken in a like case. May you neverregret this choice, my brethren, Men of the Otomie.”

And so it came to pass that when we left the City of Pines we took from it toCuitlahua the emperor, a promise of an army of twenty thousand men vowed toserve him to the death in his war against the Spaniard.

CHAPTER XXVI
THE CROWNING OF GUATEMOC

Our business with the people of the Otomie being ended for a while, we returnedto the city of Tenoctitlan, which we reached safely, having been absent a monthand a day. It was but a little time, and yet long enough for fresh sorrows tohave fallen on that most unhappy town. For now the Almighty had added to theburdens which were laid upon her. She had tasted of death by the sword of thewhite man, now death was with her in another shape. For the Spaniard hadbrought the foul sicknesses of Europe with him, and small-pox raged throughoutthe land. Day by day thousands perished of it, for these ignorant peopletreated the plague by pouring cold water upon the bodies of those smitten,driving the fever inwards to the vitals, so that within two days the most ofthem died.^[7]It waspitiful to see them maddened with suffering, as they wandered to and fro aboutthe streets, spreading the distemper far and wide. They were dying in thehouses, they lay dead by companies in the market places awaiting burial, forthe sickness took its toll of every family, the very priests were smitten by itat the altar as they sacrificed children to appease the anger of the gods. Butthe worst is still to tell; Cuitlahua, the emperor, was struck down by theillness, and when we reached the city he lay dying. Still, he desired to seeus, and sent commands that we should be brought to his bedside. In vain did Ipray Otomie not to obey; she, who was without fear, laughed at me, saying,“What, my husband, shall I shrink from that which you must face? Come,let us go and make report of our mission. If the sickness takes me and I die,it will be because my hour has come.”

[7]This treatment is followed among the Indians of Mexico to this day, but if thewriter may believe what he heard in that country, the patient is frequentlycured by it.

So we went and were ushered into a chamber where Cuitlahua lay covered by asheet, as though he were already dead, and with incense burning round him ingolden censers. When we entered he was in a stupor, but presently he awoke, andit was announced to him that we waited.

“Welcome, niece,” he said, speaking through the sheet and in athick voice; “you find me in an evil case, for my days are numbered, thepestilence of the Teules slays those whom their swords spared. Soon anothermonarch must take my throne, as I took your father’s, and I do notaltogether grieve, for on him will rest the glory and the burden of the lastfight of the Aztecs. Your report, niece; let me hear it swiftly. What say theclans of the Otomie, your vassals?”

“My lord,” Otomie answered, speaking humbly and with bowed head,“may this distemper leave you, and may you live to reign over us for manyyears! My lord, my husband Teule and I have won back the most part of thepeople of the Otomie to our cause and standard. An army of twenty thousandmountain men waits upon your word, and when those are spent there are more tofollow.”

“Well done, daughter of Montezuma, and you, white man,” gasped thedying king. “The gods were wise when they refused you both upon the stoneof sacrifice, and I was foolish when I would have slain you, Teule. To you andall I say be of a steadfast heart, and if you must die, then die with honour.The fray draws on, but I shall not share it, and who knows its end?”

Now he lay silent for a while, then of a sudden, as though an inspiration hadseized him, he cast the sheet from his face and sat upon his couch, no pleasantsight to see, for the pestilence had done its worst with him.

“Alas!” he wailed, “and alas! I see the streets ofTenoctitlan red with blood and fire, I see her dead piled up in heaps, and thehorses of the Teules trample them. I see the Spirit of my people, and her voiceis sighing and her neck is heavy with chains. The children are visited becauseof the evil of the fathers. Ye are doomed, people of Anahuac, whom I would havenurtured as an eagle nurtures her young. Hell yawns for you and Earth refusesyou because of your sins, and the remnant that remains shall be slaves fromgeneration to generation, till the vengeance is accomplished!”

Having cried thus with a great voice, Cuitlahua fell back upon the cushions,and before the frightened leech who tended him could lift his head, he hadpassed beyond the troubles of this earth. But the words which he had spokenremained fixed in the hearts of those who heard them, though they were told tonone except to Guatemoc.

Thus then in my presence and in that of Otomie died Cuitlahua, emperor of theAztecs, when he had reigned but fifteen weeks. Once more the nation mourned itsking, the chief of many a thousand of its children whom the pestilence sweptwith him to the “Mansions of the Sun,” or perchance to the“darkness behind the Stars.”

But the mourning was not for long, for in the urgency of the times it wasnecessary that a new emperor should be crowned to take command of the armiesand rule the nation. Therefore on the morrow of the burial of Cuitlahua thecouncil of the four electors was convened, and with them lesser nobles andprinces to the number of three hundred, and I among them in the right of myrank as general, and as husband of the princess Otomie. There was no great needof deliberation, indeed, for though the names of several were mentioned, theprinces knew that there was but one man who by birth, by courage, and nobilityof mind, was fitted to cope with the troubles of the nation. That man wasGuatemoc, my friend and blood brother, the nephew of the two last emperors andthe husband of my wife’s sister, Montezuma’s daughter, Tecuichpo.All knew it, I say, except, strangely enough, Guatemoc himself, for as wepassed into the council he named two other princes, saying that without doubtthe choice lay between them.

It was a splendid and a solemn sight, that gathering of the four great lords,the electors, dressed in their magnificent robes, and of the lesser council ofconfirmation of three hundred lords and princes, who sat without the circle butin hearing of all that passed. Very solemn also was the prayer of the highpriest, who, clad in his robes of sable, seemed like a blot of ink dropped on aglitter of gold. Thus he prayed:

“O god, thou who art everywhere and seest all, knowest that Cuitlahua ourking is gathered to thee. Thou hast set him beneath thy footstool and there herests in his rest. He has travelled that road which we must travel every one,he has reached the royal inhabitations of our dead, the home of everlastingshadows. There where none shall trouble him he is sunk in sleep. His brieflabours are accomplished, and soiled with sin and sorrow, he has gone to thee.Thou gavest him joys to taste but not to drink; the glory of empire passedbefore his eyes like the madness of a dream. With tears and with prayers tothee he took up his load, with happiness he laid it down. Where his forefatherswent, thither he has followed, nor can he return to us. Our fire is an ash andour lamp is darkness. Those who wore his purple before him bequeathed to himthe intolerable weight of rule, and he in his turn bequeaths it to another.Truly, he should give thee praise, thou king of kings, master of the stars,that standest alone, who hast lifted from his shoulders so great a burden, andfrom his brow this crown of woes, paying him peace for war and rest for labour.

“O god our hope, choose now a servant to succeed him, a man after thineown heart, who shall not fear nor falter, who shall toil and not be weary, whoshall lead thy people as a mother leads her children. Lord of lords, give graceto Guatemoc thy creature, who is our choice. Seal him to thy service, and asthy priest let him sit upon thy earthly throne for his life days. Let thy foesbecome his footstool, let him exalt thy glory, proclaim thy worship, andprotect thy kingdom. Thus have I prayed to thee in the name of the nation. Ogod, thy will be done!”

When the high priest had made an end of his prayer, the first of the four greatelectors rose, saying:

“Guatemoc, in the name of god and with the voice of the people ofAnahuac, we summon you to the throne of Anahuac. Long may you live and justlymay you rule, and may the glory be yours of beating back into the sea thosefoes who would destroy us. Hail to you, Guatemoc, Emperor of the Aztecs and oftheir vassal tribes.” And all the three hundred of the council ofconfirmation repeated in a voice of thunder, “Hail to you, Guatemoc,Emperor!”

Now the prince himself stood forward and spoke:

“You lords of election, and you, princes, generals, nobles and captainsof the council of confirmation, hear me. May the gods be my witness that when Ientered this place I had no thought or knowledge that I was destined to so highan honour as that which you would thrust upon me. And may the gods be mywitness again that were my life my own, and not a trust in the hands of thispeople, I would say to you, ‘Seek on and find one worthier to fill thethrone.’ But my life is not my own. Anahuac calls her son and I obey thecall. War to the death threatens her, and shall I hang back while my arm hasstrength to smite and my brain has power to plan? Not so. Now and henceforth Ivow myself to the service of my country and to war against the Teules. I willmake no peace with them, I will take no rest till they are driven back whencethey came, or till I am dead beneath their swords. None can say what the godshave in store for us, it may be victory or it may be destruction, but be ittriumph or death, let us swear a great oath together, my people and mybrethren. Let us swear to fight the Teules and the traitors who abet them, forour cities, our hearths and our altars; till the cities are a smoking ruin,till the hearths are cumbered with their dead, and the altars run red with theblood of their worshippers. So, if we are destined to conquer, our triumphshall be made sure, and if we are doomed to fail, at least there will be astory to be told of us. Do you swear, my people and my brethren?”

“We swear,” they answered with a shout.

“It is well,” said Guatemoc. “And now may everlasting shameovertake him who breaks this oath.”

Thus then was Guatemoc, the last and greatest of the Aztec emperors, elected tothe throne of his forefathers. It was happy for him that he could not foreseethat dreadful day when he, the noblest of men, must meet a felon’s doomat the hand of these very Teules. Yet so it came about, for the destiny thatlay upon the land smote all alike, indeed the greater the man the more certainwas his fate.

When all was done I hurried to the palace to tell Otomie what had come to pass,and found her in our sleeping chamber lying on her bed.

“What ails you, Otomie?” I asked.

“Alas! my husband,” she answered, “the pestilence hasstricken me. Come not near, I pray you, come not near. Let me be nursed by thewomen. You shall not risk your life for me, beloved.”

“Peace,” I said and came to her. It was too true, I who am aphysician knew the symptoms well. Indeed had it not been for my skill, Otomiewould have died. For three long weeks I fought with death at her bedside, andin the end I conquered. The fever left her, and thanks to my treatment, therewas no single scar upon her lovely face. During eight days her mind wanderedwithout ceasing, and it was then I learned how deep and perfect was her lovefor me. For all this while she did nothing but rave of me, and the secretterror of her heart was disclosed—that I should cease to care for her,that her beauty and love might pall upon me so that I should leave her, that“the flower maid,” for so she named Lily, who dwelt across the seashould draw me back to her by magic; this was the burden of her madness. Atlength her senses returned and she spoke, saying:

“How long have I lain ill, husband?”

I told her and she said, “And have you nursed me all this while, andthrough so foul a sickness?”

“Yes, Otomie, I have tended you.”

“What have I done that you should be so good to me?” she murmured.Then some dreadful thought seemed to strike her, for she moaned as though inpain, and said, “A mirror! Swift, bring me a mirror!”

I gave her one, and rising on her arm, eagerly she scanned her face in the dimlight of the shadowed room, then let the plate of burnished gold fall, and sankback with a faint and happy cry:

“I feared,” she said, “I feared that I had become hideous asthose are whom the pestilence has smitten, and that you would cease to love me,than which it had been better to die.”

“For shame,” I said. “Do you then think that love can befrightened away by some few scars?”

“Yes,” Otomie answered, “that is the love of a man; not suchlove as mine, husband. Had I been thus—ah! I shudder to think ofit—within a year you would have hated me. Perhaps it had not been so withanother, the fair maid of far away, but me you would have hated. Nay, I knowit, though I know this also, that I should not have lived to feel your hate.Oh! I am thankful, thankful.”

Then I left her for a while, marvelling at the great love which she had givenme, and wondering also if there was any truth in her words, and if the heart ofman could be so ungrateful and so vile. Supposing that Otomie was now as manywere who walked the streets of Tenoctitlan that day, a mass of dreadful scars,hairless, and with blind and whitened eyeballs, should I then have shrunk fromher? I do not know, and I thank heaven that no such trial was put upon myconstancy. But I am sure of this; had I become a leper even, Otomie would nothave shrunk from me.

So Otomie recovered from her great sickness, and shortly afterwards thepestilence passed away from Tenoctitlan. And now I had many other things tothink of, for the choosing of Guatemoc—my friend and bloodbrother—as emperor meant much advancement to me, who was made a generalof the highest class, and a principal adviser in his councils. Nor did I sparemyself in his service, but laboured by day and night in the work of preparingthe city for siege, and in the marshalling of the troops, and more especiallyof that army of Otomies, who came, as they had promised, to the number oftwenty thousand. The work was hard indeed, for these Indian tribes lackeddiscipline and powers of unity, without which their thousands were of littleavail in a war with white men. Also there were great jealousies between theirleaders which must be overcome, and I was myself an object of jealousy.Moreover, many tribes took this occasion of the trouble of the Aztecs to throwoff their allegiance or vassalage, and even if they did not join the Spaniards,to remain neutral watching for the event of the war. Still we laboured on,dividing the armies into regiments after the fashion of Europe, and stationingeach in its own quarter drilling them to the better use of arms, provisioningthe city for a siege, and weeding out as many useless mouths as we might; andthere was but one man in Tenoctitlan who toiled at these tasks more heavilythan I, and that was Guatemoc the emperor, who did not rest day or night. Itried even to make powder with sulphur which was brought from the throat of thevolcan Popo, but, having no knowledge of that art, I failed. Indeed, it wouldhave availed us little had I succeeded, for having neither arquebusses norcannons, and no skill to cast them, we could only have used it in mining roadsand gateways, and, perhaps, in grenades to be thrown with the hand.

And so the months went on, till at length spies came in with the tidings thatthe Spaniards were advancing in numbers, and with them countless hosts ofallies.

Now I would have sent Otomie to seek safety among her own people, but shelaughed me to scorn, and said:

“Where you are, there I will be, husband. What, shall it be suffered thatyou face death, perhaps to find him, when I am not at your side to die withyou? If that is the fashion of white women, I leave it to them, beloved, andhere with you I stay.”

CHAPTER XXVII
THE FALL OF TENOCTITLAN

Now shortly after Christmas, having marched from the coast with a great arrayof Spaniards, for many had joined his banner from over sea, and tens ofthousands of native allies, Cortes took up his head quarters at Tezcuco in thevalley of Mexico. This town is situated near the borders of the lake, at adistance of several leagues from Tenoctitlan, and being on the edge of theterritory of the Tlascalans his allies, it was most suitable to Cortes as abase of action. And then began one of the most terrible wars that the world hasseen. For eight months it raged, and when it ceased at length, Tenoctitlan, andwith it many other beautiful and populous towns, were blackened ruins, the mostof the Aztecs were dead by sword and famine, and their nation was crushed forever. Of all the details of this war I do not purpose to write, for were I todo so, there would be no end to this book, and I have my own tale to tell.These, therefore, I leave to the maker of histories. Let it be enough to saythat the plan of Cortes was to destroy all her vassal and allied cities andpeoples before he grappled with Mexico, queen of the valley, and this he sethimself to do with a skill, a valour, and a straightness of purpose, such ashave scarcely been shown by a general since the days of Caesar.

Iztapalapan was the first to fall, and here ten thousand men, women, andchildren were put to the sword or burned alive. Then came the turn of theothers; one by one Cortes reduced the cities till the whole girdle of them wasin his hand, and Tenoctitlan alone remained untouched. Many indeed surrendered,for the nations of Anahuac being of various blood were but as a bundle of reedsand not as a tree. Thus when the power of Spain cut the band of empire thatbound them together, they fell this way and that, having no unity. So it cameabout that as the power of Guatemoc weakened that of Cortes increased, for hegarnered these loosened reeds into his basket. And, indeed, now that the peoplesaw that Mexico had met her match, many an ancient hate and smouldering rivalrybroke into flame, and they fell upon her and tore her, like half-tamed wolvesupon their master when his scourge is broken. It was this that brought aboutthe fall of Anahuac. Had she remained true to herself, had she forgotten herfeuds and jealousies and stood against the Spaniards as one man, thenTenoctitlan would never have fallen, and Cortes with every Teule in his companyhad been stretched upon the stone of sacrifice.

Did I not say when I took up my pen to write this book that every wrongrevenges itself at last upon the man or the people that wrought it? So it wasnow. Mexico was destroyed because of the abomination of the worship of hergods. These feuds between the allied peoples had their root in the horriblerites of human sacrifice. At some time in the past, from all these citiescaptives have been dragged to the altars of the gods of Mexico, there to beslaughtered and devoured by the cannibal worshippers. Now these outrages wereremembered, now when the arm of the queen of the valley was withered, thechildren of those whom she had slain rose up to slay her and to dragherchildren to their altars.

By the month of May, strive as we would, and never was a more gallant fightmade, all our allies were crushed or had deserted us, and the siege of the citybegan. It began by land and by water, for with incredible resource Cortescaused thirteen brigantines of war to be constructed in Tlascala, and conveyedin pieces for twenty leagues across the mountains to his camp, whence they werefloated into the lake through a canal, which was hollowed out by the labour often thousand Indians, who worked at it without cease for two months. Thebearers of these brigantines were escorted by an army of twenty thousandTlascalans, and if I could have had my way that army should have been attackedin the mountain passes. So thought Guatemoc also, but there were few troops tospare, for the most of our force had been despatched to threaten a city namedChalco, that, though its people were of the Aztec blood, had not been ashamedto desert the Aztec cause. Still I offered to lead the twenty thousand Otomieswhom I commanded against the Tlascalan convoy, and the matter was debated hotlyat a council of war. But the most of the council were against the risking of anengagement with the Spaniards and their allies so far from the city, and thusthe opportunity went by to return no more. It was an evil fortune like therest, for in the end these brigantines brought about the fall of Tenoctitlan bycutting off the supply of food, which was carried in canoes across the lake.Alas! the bravest can do nothing against the power of famine. Hunger is a verygreat man, as the Indians say.

Now the Aztecs fighting alone were face to face with their foes and the laststruggle began. First the Spaniards cut the aqueduct which supplied the citywith water from the springs at the royal house of Chapoltepec, whither I wastaken on being brought to Mexico. Henceforth till the end of the siege, theonly water that we found to drink was the brackish and muddy fluid furnished bythe lake and wells sunk in the soil. Although it might be drunk after boilingto free it of the salt, it was unwholesome and filthy to the taste, breedingvarious painful sicknesses and fevers. It was on this day of the cutting of theaqueduct that Otomie bore me a son, our first-born. Already the hardships ofthe siege were so great and nourishing food so scarce, that had she been lessstrong, or had I possessed less skill in medicine, I think that she would havedied. Still she recovered to my great thankfulness and joy, and though I am noclerk I baptized the boy into the Christian Church with my own hand, naming himThomas after me.

Now day by day and week by week the fighting went on with varying success,sometimes in the suburbs of the city, sometimes on the lake, and sometimes inthe very streets. Time on time the Spaniards were driven back with loss, timeon time they advanced again from their different camps. Once we captured sixtyof them and more than a thousand of their allies. All these were sacrificed onthe altar of Huitzel, and given over to be devoured by the Aztecs according tothe beastlike custom which in Anahuac enjoined the eating of the bodies ofthose who were offered to the gods, not because the Indians love such meat butfor a secret religious reason.

In vain did I pray Guatemoc to forego this horror.

“Is this a time for gentleness?” he answered fiercely. “Icannot save them from the altar, and I would not if I could. Let the dogs dieaccording to the custom of the land, and to you, Teule my brother, I saypresume not too far.”

Alas! the heart of Guatemoc grew ever fiercer as the struggle wore on, andindeed it was little to be wondered at.

This was the dreadful plan of Cortes: to destroy the city piecemeal as headvanced towards its heart, and it was carried out without mercy. So soon asthe Spaniards got footing in a quarter, thousands of the Tlascalans were set towork to fire the houses and burn all in them alive. Before the siege was doneTenoctitlan, queen of the valley, was but a heap of blackened ruins. Cortesmight have cried over Mexico with Isaiah the prophet: “Thy pomp isbrought down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols: the worm is spread underthee and the worms cover thee. How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, sonof the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground which didst weaken thenations!”

In all these fights I took my part, though it does not become me to boast myprowess. Still the Spaniards knew me well and they had good reason. Wheneverthey saw me they would greet me with revilings, calling me “traitor andrenegade,” and “Guatemoc’s white dog,” and moreover,Cortes set a price upon my head, for he knew through his spies that some ofGuatemoc’s most successful attacks and stratagems had been of mydevising. But I took no heed even when their insults pierced me like arrows,for though many of the Aztecs were my friends and I hated the Spaniards, it wasa shameful thing that a Christian man should be warring on the side ofcannibals who made human sacrifice. I took no heed, since always I was seekingfor my foe de Garcia. He was there I knew, for I saw him many times, but Icould never come at him. Indeed, if I watched for him he also watched for me,but with another purpose, to avoid me. For now as of old de Garcia feared me,now as of old he believed that I should bring his death upon him.

It was the custom of warriors in the opposing armies to send challenges tosingle combat, one to another, and many such duels were fought in the sight ofall, safe conduct being given to the combatants and their seconds. Upon a day,despairing of meeting him face to face in battle, I sent a challenge to deGarcia by a herald, under his false name of Sarceda. In an hour the heraldreturned with this message written on paper in Spanish:

“Christian men do not fight duels with renegade heathen dogs, whiteworshippers of devils and eaters of human flesh. There is but one weapon whichsuch cannot defile, a rope, and it waits for you, Thomas Wingfield.”

I tore the writing to pieces and stamped upon it in my rage, for now, to allhis other crimes against me, de Garcia had added the blackest insult. But wrathavailed me nothing, for I could never come near him, though once, with ten ofmy Otomies, I charged into the heart of the Spanish column after him.

From that rush I alone escaped alive, the ten Otomies were sacrificed to myhate.

How shall I paint the horrors that day by day were heaped upon the doomed city?Soon all the food was gone, and men, ay, and worse still, tender women andchildren, must eat such meat as swine would have turned from, striving to keeplife in them for a little longer. Grass, the bark of trees, slugs and insects,washed down with brackish water from the lake, these were their best food,these and the flesh of captives offered in sacrifice. Now they began to die byhundreds and by thousands, they died so fast that none could bury them. Wherethey perished, there they lay, till at length their bodies bred a plague, ablack and horrible fever that swept off thousands more, who in turn became theroot of pestilence. For one who was killed by the Spaniards and their allies,two were swept off by hunger and plague. Think then what was the number of deadwhen not less than seventy thousand perished beneath the sword and by firealone. Indeed, it is said that forty thousand died in this manner in a singleday, the day before the last of the siege.

One night I came back to the lodging where Otomie dwelt with her royal sisterTecuichpo, the wife of Guatemoc, for now all the palaces had been burnt down. Iwas starving, for I had scarcely tasted food for forty hours, but all that mywife could set before me were three little meal cakes, or tortillas,mixed with bark. She kissed me and bade me eat them, but I discovered that sheherself had touched no food that day, so I would not till she shared them. ThenI noted that she could scarcely swallow the bitter morsels, and also that shestrove to hide tears which ran down her face.

“What is it, wife?” I asked.

Then Otomie broke out into a great and bitter crying and said:

“This, my beloved: for two days the milk has been dry in mybreast—hunger has dried it—and our babe is dead! Look, he liesdead!” and she drew aside a cloth and showed me the tiny body.

“Hush,” I said, “he is spared much. Can we then desire that achild should live to see such days as we have seen, and after all, to die atlast?”

“He was our son, our first-born,” she cried again. “Oh! whymust we suffer thus?”

“We must suffer, Otomie, because we are born to it. Just so muchhappiness is given to us as shall save us from madness and no more. Ask me notwhy, for I cannot answer you! There is no answer in my faith or in anyother.”

And then, looking on that dead babe, I wept also. Every hour in those terriblemonths it was my lot to see a thousand sights more awful, and yet this sight ofa dead infant moved me the most of all of them. The child was mine, myfirstborn, its mother wept beside me, and its stiff and tiny fingers seemed todrag at my heart strings. Seek not the cause, for the Almighty Who gave theheart its infinite power of pain alone can answer, and to our ears He is dumb.

Then I took a mattock and dug a hole outside the house till I came to water,which in Tenoctitlan is found at a depth of two feet or so. And, havingmuttered a prayer over him, there in the water I laid the body of our child,burying it out of sight. At the least he was not left for the zapilotes,as the Aztecs call the vultures, like the rest of them.

After that we wept ourselves to sleep in each other’s arms, Otomiemurmuring from time to time, “Oh! my husband, I would that we were asleepand forgotten, we and the babe together.”

“Rest now,” I answered, “for death is very near to us.”

The morrow came, and with it a deadlier fray than any that had gone before, andafter it more morrows and more deaths, but still we lived on, for Guatemoc gaveus of his food. Then Cortes sent his heralds demanding our surrender, and nowthree-fourths of the city was a ruin, and three-fourths of its defenders weredead. The dead were heaped in the houses like bees stifled in a hive, and inthe streets they lay so thick that we walked upon them.

The council was summoned—fierce men, haggard with hunger and with war,and they considered the offer of Cortes.

“What is your word, Guatemoc?” said their spokesman at last.

“Am I Montezuma, that you ask me? I swore to defend this city to thelast,” he answered hoarsely, “and, for my part, I will defend it.Better that we should all die, than that we should fall living into the handsof the Teules.”

“So say we,” they replied, and the war went on.

At length there came a day when the Spaniards made a new attack and gainedanother portion of the city. There the people were huddled together like sheepin a pen. We strove to defend them, but our arms were weak with famine. Theyfired into us with their pieces, mowing us down like corn before the sickle.Then the Tlascalans were loosed upon us, like fierce hounds upon a defencelessbuck, and on this day it is said that there died forty thousand people, fornone were spared. On the morrow, it was the last day of the siege, came a freshembassy from Cortes, asking that Guatemoc should meet him. The answer was thesame, for nothing could conquer that noble spirit.

“Tell him,” said Guatemoc, “that I will die where I am, butthat I will hold no parley with him. We are helpless, let Cortes work hispleasure on us.”

By now all the city was destroyed, and we who remained alive within its boundswere gathered on the causeways and behind the ruins of walls; men, women, andchildren together.

Here they attacked us again. The great drum on the teocallibeat for thelast time, and for the last time the wild scream of the Aztec warriors went upto heaven. We fought our best; I killed four men that day with my arrows whichOtomie, who was at my side, handed me as I shot. But the most of us had not thestrength of a child, and what could we do? They came among us like seamen amonga flock of seals, and slaughtered us by hundreds. They drove us into the canalsand trod us to death there, till bridges were made of our bodies. How weescaped I do not know.

At length a party of us, among whom was Guatemoc with his wife Tecuichpo, weredriven to the shores of the lake where lay canoes, and into these we entered,scarcely knowing what we did, but thinking that we might escape, for now allthe city was taken. The brigantines saw us and sailed after us with a favouringwind—the wind always favoured the foe in that war—and row as wewould, one of them came up with us and began to fire into us. Then Guatemocstood up and spoke, saying:

“I am Guatemoc. Bring me to Malinche. But spare those of my people whoremain alive.”

“Now,” I said to Otomie at my side, “my hour has come, forthe Spaniards will surely hang me, and it is in my mind, wife, that I should dowell to kill myself, so that I may be saved from a death of shame.”

“Nay, husband,” she answered sadly, “as I said in bygonedays, while you live there is hope, but the dead come back no more. Fortune mayfavour us yet; still, if you think otherwise, I am ready to die.”

“That I will not suffer, Otomie.”

“Then you must hold your hand, husband, for now as always, where you go,I follow.”

“Listen,” I whispered; “do not let it be known that you aremy wife; pass yourself as one of the ladies of Tecuichpo, the queen, yoursister. If we are separated, and if by any chance I escape, I will try to makemy way to the City of Pines. There, among your own people, we may findrefuge.”

“So be it, beloved,” she answered, smiling sadly. “But I donot know how the Otomie will receive me, who have led twenty thousand of theirbravest men to a dreadful death.”

Now we were on the deck of the brigantine and must stop talking, and thence,after the Spaniards had quarrelled over us a while, we were taken ashore andled to the top of a house which still stood, where Cortes had made readyhurriedly to receive his royal prisoner. Surrounded by his escort, the Spanishgeneral stood, cap in hand, and by his side was Marina, grown more lovely thanbefore, whom I now met for the first time since we had parted in Tobasco.

Our eyes met and she started, thereby showing that she knew me again, though itmust have been hard for Marina to recognise her friend Teule in theblood-stained, starving, and tattered wretch who could scarcely find strengthto climb the azotea. But at that time no words passed between us, for all eyeswere bent on the meeting between Cortes and Guatemoc, between the conqueror andthe conquered.

Still proud and defiant, though he seemed but a living skeleton, Guatemocwalked straight to where the Spaniard stood, and spoke, Marina translating hiswords.

“I am Guatemoc, the emperor, Malinche,” he said. “What a manmight do to defend his people, I have done. Look on the fruits of mylabour,” and he pointed to the blackened ruins of Tenoctitlan thatstretched on every side far as the eye could reach. “Now I have come tothis pass, for the gods themselves have been against me. Deal with me as youwill, but it will be best that you kill me now,” and he touched thedagger of Cortes with his hand, “and thus rid me swiftly of the misery oflife.”

“Fear not, Guatemoc,” answered Cortes. “You have fought likea brave man, and such I honour. With me you are safe, for we Spaniards love agallant foe. See, here is food,” and he pointed to a table spread withsuch viands as we had not seen for many a week; “eat, you and yourcompanions together, for you must need it. Afterwards we will talk.”

So we ate, and heartily, I for my part thinking that it would be well to dieupon a full stomach, having faced death so long upon an empty one, and while wedevoured the meat the Spaniards stood on one side scanning us, not withoutpity. Presently, Tecuichpo was brought before Cortes, and with her Otomie andsome six other ladies. He greeted her graciously, and they also were given toeat. Now, one of the Spaniards who had been watching me whispered somethinginto the ear of Cortes, and I saw his face darken.

“Say,” he said to me in Castilian, “are you that renegade,that traitor who has aided these Aztecs against us?”

“I am no renegade and no traitor, general,” I answered boldly, forthe food and wine had put new life into me. “I am an Englishman, and Ihave fought with the Aztecs because I have good cause to hate youSpaniards.”

“You shall soon have better, traitor,” he said furiously.“Here, lead this man away and hang him on the mast of yonder ship.”

Now I saw that it was finished, and made ready to go to my death, when Marinaspoke into the ear of Cortes. All she said I could not catch, but I heard thewords “hidden gold.” He listened, then hesitated, and spoke aloud:“Do not hang this man to-day. Let him be safely guarded. Tomorrow I willinquire into his case.”

CHAPTER XXVIII
THOMAS IS DOOMED

At the words of Cortes two Spaniards came forward, and seizing me one by eitherarm, they led me across the roof of the house towards the stairway. Otomie hadheard also, and though she did not understand the words, she read the face ofCortes, and knew well that I was being taken to imprisonment or death. As Ipassed her, she started forward, a terror shining in her eyes. Fearing that shewas about to throw herself upon my breast, and thus to reveal herself as mywife, and bring my fate upon her, I glanced at her warningly, then makingpretence to stumble, as though with fear and exhaustion, I fell at her feet.The soldiers who led me laughed brutally, and one of them kicked me with hisheavy boot. But Otomie stooped down and held her hand to me to help me rise,and as I did so, we spoke low and swiftly.

“Farewell, wife,” I said; “whatever happens, keepsilent.”

“Farewell,” she answered; “if you must die, await me in thegates of death, for I will join you there.”

“Nay, live on. Time shall bring comfort.”

“You are my life, beloved. With you time ends for me.” Now I was onmy feet again, and I think that none noted our whispered words, for all werelistening to Cortes, who rated the man that had kicked me.

“I bade you guard this traitor, not to kick him,” he said angrilyin Castilian. “Will you put us to open shame before these savages? Do soonce more, and you shall pay for it smartly. Learn a lesson in gentleness fromthat woman; she is starving, yet she leaves her food to help your prisoner tohis feet. Now take him away to the camp, and see that he comes to no harm, forhe can tell me much.”

Then the soldiers led me away, grumbling as they went, and the last thing thatI saw was the despairing face of Otomie my wife, as she gazed after me, faintwith the secret agony of our parting. But when I came to the head of thestairway, Guatemoc, who stood near, took my hand and shook it.

“Farewell, my brother,” he said with a heavy smile; “the gamewe played together is finished, and now it is time for us to rest. I thank youfor your valour and your aid.”

“Farewell, Guatemoc,” I answered. “You are fallen, but letthis comfort you, in your fall you have found immortal fame.”

“On, on!” growled the soldiers, and I went, little thinking howGuatemoc and I should meet again.

They took me to a canoe, and we were paddled across the lake by Tlascalans,till at length we came to the Spanish camp. All the journey through, my guards,though they laid no hand on me, fearing the anger of Cortes, mocked and tauntedme, asking me how I liked the ways of the heathen, and whether I ate the fleshof the sacrifices raw or cooked; and many another such brutal jest they made atmy expense. For a while I bore it, for I had learned to be patient from theIndians, but at last I answered them in few words and bitter.

“Peace, cowards,” I said; “remember that I am helpless, andthat were I before you strong and armed, either I should not live to listen tosuch words, or you would not live to repeat them.”

Then they were silent, and I also was silent.

When we reached their camp I was led through it, followed by a throng of fierceTlascalans and others, who would have torn me limb from limb had they notfeared to do so. I saw some Spaniards also, but the most of these were so drunkwith mescal, and with joy at the tidings that Tenoctitlan had fallen,and their labours were ended at last, that they took no heed of me. Never did Isee such madness as possessed them, for these poor fools believed thathenceforth they should eat their very bread off plates of gold. It was for goldthat they had followed Cortes; for gold they had braved the altar of sacrificeand fought in a hundred fights, and now, as they thought, they had won it.

The room of the stone house where they prisoned me had a window secured by barsof wood, and through these bars I could see and hear the revellings of thesoldiers during the time of my confinement. All day long, when they were not onduty, and most of the night also, they gambled and drank, staking tens of pesoson a single throw, which the loser must pay out of his share of the countlesstreasures of the Aztecs. Little did they care if they won or lost, they were sosure of plunder, but played on till drink overpowered them, and they rolledsenseless beneath the tables, or till they sprang up and danced wildly to andfro, catching at the sunbeams and screaming “Gold! gold! gold!”

Listening at this window also I gathered some of the tidings of the camp. Ilearned that Cortes had come back, bringing Guatemoc and several of the princeswith him, together with many of the noble Aztec ladies. Indeed I saw and heardthe soldiers gambling for these women when they were weary of their play formoney, a description of each of them being written on a piece of paper. One ofthese ladies answered well to Otomie, my wife, and she was put up to auction bythe brute who won her in the gamble, and sold to a common soldier for a hundredpesos. For these men never doubted but that the women and the gold would behanded over to them.

Thus things went for several days, during which I sat and slept in my prisonuntroubled by any, except the native woman who waited on me and brought me foodin plenty. During those days I ate as I have never eaten before or since, and Islept much, for my sorrows could not rid my body of its appetites andcommanding need for food and rest. Indeed I verily believe that at the end of aweek, I had increased in weight by a full half; also my weariness was conqueredat length, and I was strong again.

But when I was neither sleeping nor eating I watched at my window, hoping,though in vain, to catch some sight of Otomie or of Guatemoc. If I might notsee my friends, however, at least I saw my foe, for one evening de Garcia cameand stared at my prison. He could not see me, but I saw him, and the devilishsmile that flickered on his face as he went away like a wolf, made me shiverwith a presage of woes to come. For ten minutes or more he stood gazing at mywindow hungrily, as a cat gazes at a caged bird, and I felt that he was waitingfor the door to be opened, and knewthat it would soon be opened.

This happened on the eve of the day upon which I was put to torture.

Meanwhile, as time went on, I noticed that a change came over the temper of thecamp. The soldiers ceased to gamble for untold wealth, they even ceased fromdrinking to excess and from their riotous joy, but took to hanging together inknots discussing fiercely I could not learn of what. On the day when de Garciacame to look at my prison there was a great gathering in the square opposite myprison, to which I saw Cortes ride up on a white horse and richly dressed. Themeeting was too far away for me to overhear what passed, but I noted thatseveral officers addressed Cortes angrily, and that their speeches were loudlycheered by the soldiers. At length the great captain answered them at somelength, and they broke up in silence. Next morning after I had breakfasted,four soldiers came into my prison and ordered me to accompany them.

“Whither?” I asked.

“To the captain, traitor,” their leader answered.

“It has come at last,” I thought to myself, but I said only:

“It is well. Any change from this hole is one for the better.”

“Certainly,” he replied; “and it is your last shift.”

Then I knew that the man believed that I was going to my death. In five minutesI was standing before Cortes in his private house. At his side was Marina andaround him were several of his companions in arms. The great man looked at mefor a while, then spoke.

“Your name is Wingfield; you are of mixed blood, half English and halfSpanish. You were cast away in the Tobasco River and taken to Tenoctitlan.There you were doomed to personate the Aztec god Tezcat, and were rescued by uswhen we captured the great teocalli. Subsequently you joined the Aztecsand took part in the attack and slaughter of the noche triste. You wereafterwards the friend and counsellor of Guatemoc, and assisted him in hisdefence of Tenoctitlan. Is this true, prisoner?”

“It is all true, general,” I answered.

“Good. You are now our prisoner, and had you a thousand lives, you haveforfeited them all because of your treachery to your race and blood. Into thecircumstances that led you to commit this horrible treason I cannot enter; thefact remains. You have slain many of the Spaniards and their allies; that is,being in a state of treason you have murdered them. Wingfield, your life isforfeit and I condemn you to die by hanging as a traitor and anapostate.”

“Then there is nothing more to be said,” I answered quietly, thougha cold fear froze my blood.

“There is something,” answered Cortes. “Though your crimeshave been so many, I am ready to give you your life and freedom upon acondition. I am ready to do more, to find you a passage to Europe on the firstoccasion, where you may perchance escape the echoes of your infamy if God isgood to you. The condition is this. We have reason to believe that you areacquainted with the hiding place of the gold of Montezuma, which was unlawfullystolen from us on the night of the noche triste. Nay, we know that thisis so, for you were seen to go with the canoes that were laden with it. Choosenow, apostate, between a shameful death and the revealing to us of the secretof this treasure.”

For a moment I wavered. On the one hand was the loss of honour with life andliberty and the hope of home, on the other a dreadful end. Then I remembered myoath and Otomie, and what she would think of me living or dead, if I did thisthing, and I wavered no more.

“I know nothing of the treasure, general,” I answered coldly.“Send me to my death.”

“You mean that you will say nothing of it, traitor. Think again. If youhave sworn any oaths they are broken by God. The empire of the Aztecs is at anend, their king is my prisoner, their great city is a ruin. The true God hastriumphed over these devils by my hand. Their wealth is my lawful spoil, and Imust have it to pay my gallant comrades who cannot grow rich on desolation.Think again.”

“I know nothing of this treasure, general.”

“Yet memory sometimes wakens, traitor. I have said that you shall die ifyours should fail you, and so you shall to be sure. But death is not alwaysswift. There are means, doubtless you who have lived in Spain have heard ofthem,” and he arched his brows and glared at me meaningly, “bywhich a man may die and yet live for many weeks. Now, loth as I am to do it, itseems that if your memory still sleeps, I must find some such means to rouseit—before you die.”

“I am in your power, general,” I answered. “You call metraitor again and again. I am no traitor. I am a subject of the King ofEngland, not of the King of Spain. I came hither following a villain who haswrought me and mine bitter wrong, one of your company named de Garcia orSarceda. To find him and for other reasons I joined the Aztecs. They areconquered and I am your prisoner. At the least deal with me as a brave mandeals with a fallen enemy. I know nothing of the treasure; kill me and make anend.”

“As a man I might wish to do this, Wingfield, but I am more than a man, Iam the hand of the Church here in Anahuac. You have partaken with theworshippers of idols, you have seen your fellow Christians sacrificed anddevoured by your brute comrades. For this alone you deserve to be torturedeternally, and doubtless that will be so after we have done with you. As forthe hidalgo Don Sarceda, I know him only as a brave companion in arms, andcertainly I shall not listen to tales told against him by a wandering apostate.It is, however, unlucky for you,” and here a gleam of light shot acrossthe face of Cortes, “that there should be any old feud between you,seeing that it is to his charge that I am about to confide you. Now for thelast time I say choose. Will you reveal the hiding place of the treasure and gofree, or will you be handed over to the care of Don Sarceda till such time ashe shall find means to make you speak?”

Now a great faintness seized me, for I knew that I was condemned to betortured, and that de Garcia was to be the torturer. What mercy had I to expectfrom his cruel heart when I, his deadliest foe, lay in his power to wreak hisvengeance on? But still my will and my honour prevailed against my terrors, andI answered:

“I have told you, general, that I know nothing of this treasure. Do yourworst, and may God forgive you for your cruelty.”

“Dare not to speak that holy Name, apostate and worshipper of idols,eater of human flesh. Let Sarceda be summoned.”

A messenger went out, and for a while there was silence. I caughtMarina’s glance and saw pity in her gentle eyes. But she could not helpme here, for Cortes was mad because no gold had been found, and the clamour ofthe soldiers for reward had worn him out and brought him to this shamefulremedy, he who was not cruel by nature. Still she strove to plead for me withhim, whispering earnestly in his ear. For a while Cortes listened, then hepushed her from him roughly.

“Peace, Marina,” he said. “What, shall I spare this Englishdog some pangs, when my command, and perchance my very life, hangs upon thefinding of the gold? Nay, he knows well where it lies hid; you said it yourselfwhen I would have hung him for a traitor, and certainly he was one of thosewhom the spy saw go out with it upon the lake. Our friend was with them also,but he came back no more; doubtless they murdered him. What is this man to youthat you should plead for him? Cease to trouble me, Marina, am I not troubledenough already?” and Cortes put his hands to his face and remained lostin thought. As for Marina, she looked at me sadly and sighed as though to say,“I have done my best,” and I thanked her with my eyes.

Presently there was a sound of footsteps and I looked up to see de Garciastanding before me. Time and hardship had touched him lightly, and the lines ofsilver in his curling hair and peaked beard did but add dignity to his noblepresence. Indeed, when I looked at him in his dark Spanish beauty, his richgarments decked with chains of gold, as he bowed before Cortes hat in hand, Iwas fain to confess that I had never seen a more gallant cavalier, or one whoseaspect gave the lie so wholly to the black heart within. But knowing him forwhat he was, my very blood quivered with hate at the sight of him, and when Ithought of my own impotence and of the errand on which he had come, I ground myteeth and cursed the day that I was born. As for de Garcia, he greeted me witha little cruel smile, then spoke to Cortes.

“Your pleasure, general?”

“Greeting to you, comrade,” answered Cortes. “You know thisrenegade?”

“But too well, general. Three times he has striven to murder me.”

“Well, you have escaped and it is your hour now, Sarceda. He says that hehas a quarrel with you; what is it?”

De Garcia hesitated, stroking his peaked beard, then answered: “I am lothto tell it because it is a tale of error for which I have often sorrowed anddone penance. Yet I will speak for fear you should think worse of me than Ideserve. This man has some cause to mislike me, since to be frank, when I wasyounger than I am to-day and given to the follies of youth, it chanced that inEngland I met his mother, a beautiful Spanish lady who by ill fortune waswedded to an Englishman, this man’s father and a clown of clowns, whomaltreated her. I will be short; the lady learned to love me and I worsted herhusband in a duel. Hence this traitor’s hate of me.”

I heard and thought that my heart must burst with fury. To all his wickednessand offences against me, de Garcia now had added slander of my deadmother’s honour.

“You lie, murderer,” I gasped, tearing at the ropes that bound me.

“I must ask you to protect me from such insult, general,” de Garciaanswered coldly. “Were the prisoner worthy of my sword, I would askfurther that his bonds should be loosed for a little space, but my honour wouldbe tarnished for ever were I to fight with such as he.”

“Dare to speak thus once more to a gentleman of Spain,” said Cortescoldly, “and, you heathen dog, your tongue shall be dragged from you withred-hot pincers. For you, Sarceda, I thank you for your confidence. If you haveno worse crime than a love affair upon your soul, I think that our goodchaplain Olmedo will frank you through the purgatorial fires. But we wastewords and time. This man has the secret of the treasure of Guatemoc and ofMontezuma. If Guatemoc and his nobles will not tell it, he at least may beforced to speak, for the torments that an Indian can endure without a groanwill soon bring truth bubbling from the lips of this white heathen. Take him,Sarceda, and hearken, let him be your especial care. First let him suffer withthe others, and afterwards, should he prove obdurate, alone. The method I leaveto you. Should he confess, summon me.”

“Pardon me, general, but this is no task for an hidalgo of Spain. I havebeen more wont to pierce my enemies with the sword than to tear them withpincers,” said de Garcia, but as he spoke I saw a gleam of triumph shinein his black eyes, and heard the ring of triumph through the mock anger of hisvoice.

“I know it, comrade. But this must be done; though I hate it, it must bedone, there is no other way. The gold is necessary to me—by the Mother ofGod! the knaves say that I have stolen it!—and I doubt these stubbornIndian dogs will ever speak, however great their agony. This man knows and Igive him over to you because you are acquainted with his wickedness, and thatknowledge will steel your heart against all pity. Spare not, comrade; rememberthat he must be forced to speak.”

“It is your command, Cortes, and I will obey it, though I love the tasklittle; with one proviso, however, that you give me your warrant inwriting.”

“It shall be made out at once,” answered the general. “Andnow away with him.”

“Where to?”

“To the prison that he has left. All is ready and there he will find hiscomrades.”

Then a guard was summoned and I was dragged back to my own place, de Garciasaying as I went that he would be with me presently.

CHAPTER XXIX
DE GARCIA SPEAKS HIS MIND

At first I was not taken into the chamber that I had left, but placed in alittle room opening out of it where the guard slept. Here I waited a while,bound hand and foot and watched by two soldiers with drawn swords. As I waited,torn by rage and fear, I heard the noise of hammering through the wall,followed by a sound of groans. At length the suspense came to an end; a doorwas opened, and two fierce Tlascalan Indians came through it and seized me bythe hair and ears, dragging me thus into my own chamber.

“Poor devil!” I heard one of the Spanish soldiers say as I went.“Apostate or no, I am sorry for him; this is bloody work.”

Then the door closed and I was in the place of torment. The room was darkened,for a cloth had been hung in front of the window bars, but its gloom wasrelieved by certain fires that burned in braziers. It was by the light of thesefires chiefly that I saw the sight. On the floor of the chamber were placedthree solid chairs, one of them empty. The other two were filled by none otherthan Guatemoc, Emperor of the Aztecs, and by his friend and mine thecaciqueof Tacuba. They were bound in the chairs, the burning brazierswere placed at their feet, behind them stood a clerk with paper and an inkhorn,and around them Indians were busy at some dreadful task, directed to it by twoSpanish soldiers. Near the third chair stood another Spaniard who as yet tookno part in the play; it was de Garcia. As I looked, an Indian lifted one of thebraziers and seizing the naked foot of the Tacuban prince, thrust it down uponthe glowing coals. For a while there was silence, then the Tacuban broke intogroans. Guatemoc turned his head towards him and spoke, and as he spoke I sawthat his foot also was resting in the flames of a brazier. “Why do youcomplain, friend,” he said, in a steady voice, “when I keepsilence? Am I then taking my pleasure in a bed? Follow me now as always,friend, and be silent beneath your sufferings.”

The clerk wrote down his words, for I heard the quill scratching on the paper,and as he wrote, Guatemoc turned his head and saw me. His face was grey withpain, still he spoke as a hundred times I had heard him speak at council,slowly and clearly. “Alas! are you also here, my friend Teule?” hesaid; “I hoped that they had spared you. See how these Spaniards keepfaith. Malinche swore to treat me with all honour; behold how he honours me,with hot coals for my feet and pincers for my flesh. They think that we haveburied treasure, Teule, and would wring its secret from us. You know that it isa lie. If we had treasure would we not give it gladly to our conquerors, thegod-born sons of Quetzal? You know that there is nothing left except the ruinsof our cities and the bones of our dead.”

Here he ceased suddenly, for the demon who tormented him struck him across themouth saying, “Silence, dog.”

But I understood, and I swore in my heart that I would die ere I revealed mybrother’s secret. This was the last triumph that Guatemoc could win, tokeep his gold from the grasp of the greedy Spaniard, and that victory at leasthe should not lose through me. So I swore, and very soon my oath must be put tothe test, for at a motion from de Garcia the Tlascalans seized me and bound meto the third chair.

Then he spoke into my ear in Castilian: “Strange are the ways ofProvidence, Cousin Wingfield. You have hunted me across the world, and severaltimes we have met, always to your sorrow. I thought I had you in the slaveship, I thought that the sharks had you in the water, but somehow you escapedme whom you came to hunt. When I knew it I grieved, but now I grieve no more,for I see that you were reserved for this moment. Cousin Wingfield, it shall gohard if you escape me this time, and yet I think that we shall spend some daystogether before we part. Now I will be courteous with you. You may have achoice of evils. How shall we begin? The resources at my command are not allthat we could wish, alas! the Holy Office is not yet here with its unholyarmoury, but still I have done my best. These fellows do not understand theirart: hot coals are their only inspiration. I, you see, have several,” andhe pointed to various instruments of torture. “Which will youselect?”

I made no answer, for I had determined that I would speak no word and utter nocry, do what they might with me.

“Let me think, let me think,” went on de Garcia, smoothing hisbeard. “Ah, I have it. Here, slaves.”

Now I will not renew my own agonies, or awake the horror of any who may chanceto read what I have written by describing what befell me after this. Suffice itto say that for two hours and more this devil, helped in his task by theTlascalans, worked his wicked will upon me. One by one torments wereadministered to me with a skill and ingenuity that cannot often have beensurpassed, and when at times I fainted I was recovered by cold water beingdashed upon me and spirits poured down my throat. And yet, I say it with somepride, during those two dreadful hours I uttered no groan however great mysufferings, and spoke no word good or bad.

Nor was it only bodily pain that I must bear, for all this while my enemymocked me with bitter words, which tormented my soul as his instruments and hotcoals tormented my body. At length he paused exhausted, and cursed me for anobstinate pig of an Englishman, and at that moment Cortes entered the shamblesand with him Marina.

“How goes it?” he said lightly, though his face turned pale at thesight of horror.

“The caciqueof Tacuba has confessed that gold is buried in hisgarden, the other two have said nothing, general,” the clerk answered,glancing down his paper.

“Brave men, indeed!” I heard Cortes mutter to himself; then saidaloud, “Let the caciquebe carried to-morrow to the garden ofwhich he speaks, that he may point out the gold. As for the other two, ceasetormenting them for this day. Perhaps they may find another mind beforeto-morrow. I trust so, for their own sakes I trust so!”

Then he drew to the corner of the room and consulted with Sarceda and the othertorturers, leaving Marina face to face with Guatemoc and with me. For a whileshe stared at the prince as though in horror, then a strange light came intoher beautiful eyes, and she spoke to him in a low voice, saying in the Aztectongue:

“Do you remember how once you rejected me down yonder in Tobasco,Guatemoc, and what I told you then?—that I should grow great in spite ofyou? You see it has all come true and more than true, and you are brought tothis. Are you not sorry, Guatemoc? I am sorry, though were I as some women are,perchance I might rejoice to see you thus.”

“Woman,” the prince answered in a thick voice, “you havebetrayed your country and you have brought me to shame and torment. Yes, had itnot been for you, these things had never been. I am sorry, indeed I amsorry—that I did not kill you. For the rest, may your name be shamefulfor ever in the ears of honest men and your soul be everlastingly accursed, andmay you yourself, even before you die, know the bitterness of dishonour andbetrayal! Your words were fulfilled, and so shall mine be also.”

She heard and turned away trembling, and for a while was silent. Then herglance fell upon me and she began to weep.

“Alas! poor man,” she said; “alas! my friend.”

“Weep not over me, Marina,” I answered, speaking in Aztec,“for our tears are of no worth, but help me if you may.”

“Ah that I could!” she sobbed, and turning fled from the place,followed presently by Cortes.

Now the Spaniards came in again and removed Guatemoc and the caciqueofTacuba, carrying them in their arms, for they could not walk, and indeed thecaciquewas in a swoon.

“Farewell, Teule,” said Guatemoc as he passed me; “you areindeed a true son of Quetzal and a gallant man. May the gods reward you intimes to come for all that you have suffered for me and mine, since Icannot.”

Then he was borne out and these were the last words that I ever heard himutter.

Now I was left alone with the Tlascalans and de Garcia, who mocked me asbefore.

“A little tired, eh, friend Wingfield?” he said sneering.“Well, the play is rough till you get used to it. A night’s sleepwill refresh you, and to-morrow you will be a new man. Perhaps you believe thatI have done my worst. Fool, this is but a beginning. Also you think doubtlessthat your obstinacy angers me? Wrong again, my friend, I only pray that you maykeep your lips sealed to the last. Gladly would I give my share of this hiddengold in payment for two more such days with you. I have still much to pay youback, and look you, I have found a way to do it. There are more ways of hurtinga man than through his own flesh—for instance, when I wished to berevenged upon your father, I struck him through her whom he loved. Now I havetouched you and you wonder what I mean. Well, I will tell you. Perhaps you mayknow an Aztec lady of royal blood who is named Otomie?”

“Otomie, what of her?” I cried, speaking for the first time, sincefear for her stirred me more than all the torments I had borne.

“A triumph indeed; I have found a way to make you speak at last; why,then, to-morrow you will be full of words. Only this, Cousin Wingfield; Otomie,Montezuma’s daughter, a very lovely woman by the way, is your wifeaccording to the Indian customs. Well, I know all the story and—she is inmy power. I will prove it to you, for she shall be brought here presently andthen you can console each other. For listen, dog, to-morrow she will sit whereyou are sitting, and before your eyes she shall be dealt with as you have beendealt with. Ah! then you will talk fast enough, but perhaps it will be toolate.”

And now for the first time I broke down and prayed for mercy even of my foe.

“Spare her,” I groaned; “do what you will with me, but spareher! Surely you must have a heart, even you, for you are human. You can neverdo this thing, and Cortes would not suffer it.”

“As for Cortes,” he answered, “he will know nothing ofit—till it is done. I have my warrant that charges me to use every meansin my power to force the truth from you. Torture has failed; this alone isleft. And for the rest, you must read me ill. You know what it is to hate, foryou hate me; multiply your hate by ten and you may find the sum of mine foryou. I hate you for your blood, I hate you because you have your mother’seyes, but much more do I hate you for yourself, for did you not beat me, agentleman of Spain, with a stick as though I were a hound? Shall I then shrinkfrom such a deed when I can satisfy my hate by it? Also perhaps, though you area brave man, at this moment you know what it is to fear, and are tasting of itsagony. Now I will be open with you; Thomas Wingfield, I fear you. When first Isaw you I feared you as I had reason to do, and that is why I tried to killyou, and as time has gone by I have feared you more and more, so much indeed,that at times I cannot rest because of a nameless terror that dogs me and whichhas to do with you. Because of you I fled from Spain, because of you I haveplayed the coward in more frays than one. The luck has always been mine in thisduel between us, and yet I tell you that even as you are, I fear you still. IfI dared I would kill you at once, only then you would haunt me as your motherhaunts me, and also I must answer for it to Cortes. Fear, Cousin Wingfield, isthe father of cruelty, and mine makes me cruel to you. Living or dead, I knowthat you will triumph over me at the last, but it is my turn now, and while youbreathe, or while one breathes who is dear to you, I will spend my life tobring you and them to shame and misery and death, as I brought your mother, mycousin, though she forced me to it to save myself. Why not? There is noforgiveness for me, I cannot undo the past. You came to take vengeance on me,and soon or late by you, or through you, it will be glutted, but till then Itriumph, ay, even when I must sink to this butcher’s work to doit,” and suddenly he turned and left the place.

Then weakness and suffering overcame me and I swooned away. When I awoke it wasto find that my bonds had been loosed and that I lay on some sort of bed, whilea woman bent over me, tending me with murmured words of pity and love. Thenight had fallen, but there was light in the chamber, and by it I saw that thewoman was none other than Otomie, no longer starved and wretched, but almost aslovely as before the days of siege and hunger.

“Otomie! you here!” I gasped through my wounded lips, for with mysenses came the memory of de Garcia’s threats.

“Yes, beloved, it is I,” she murmured; “they have sufferedthat I nurse you, devils though they are. Oh! that I must see you thus and yetbe helpless to avenge you,” and she burst into weeping.

“Hush,” I said, “hush. Have we food?”

“In plenty. A woman brought it from Marina.”

“Give me to eat, Otomie.”

Now for a while she fed me and the deadly sickness passed from me, though mypoor flesh burned with a hundred agonies.

“Listen, Otomie: have you seen de Garcia?”

“No, husband. Two days since I was separated from my sister Tecuichpo andthe other ladies, but I have been well treated and have seen no Spaniard exceptthe soldiers who led me here, telling me that you were sick. Alas! I knew notfrom what cause,” and again she began to weep.

“Still some have seen you and it is reported that you are my wife.”

“It is likely enough,” she answered, “for it was knownthroughout the Aztec hosts, and such secrets cannot be kept. But why have theytreated you thus? Because you fought against them?”

“Are we alone?” I asked.

“The guard is without, but there are none else in the chamber.”

“Then bend down your head and I will tell you,” and I told her all.

When I had done so she sprang up with flashing eyes and her hand pressed uponher breast, and said:

“Oh! if I loved you before, now I love you more if that is possible, whocould suffer thus horribly and yet be faithful to the fallen and your oath.Blessed be the day when first I looked upon your face, O my husband, most trueof men. But they who could do this—what of them? Still it is done withand I will nurse you back to health. Surely it is done with, or they had notsuffered me to come to you?”

“Alas! Otomie, I must tell all—it is notdone with,”and with faltering voice I went on with the tale, yes, and since I must, I toldher for what purpose she had been brought here. She listened without a word,though her lips turned pale.

“Truly,” she said when I had done, “these Teules far surpassthe pabasof our people, for if the priests torture and sacrifice, it isto the gods and not for gold and secret hate. Now, husband, what is yourcounsel? Surely you have some counsel.”

“I have none that I dare offer, wife,” I groaned.

“You are timid as a girl who will not utter the love she burns totell,” Otomie answered with a proud and bitter laugh. “Well, I willspeak it for you. It is in your mind that we must die to-night.”

“It is,” I said; “death now, or shame and agony to-morrow andthen death at last, that is our choice. Since God will not protect us, we mustprotect ourselves if we can find the means.”

“God! there is no God. At times I have doubted the gods of my people andturned to yours; now I renounce and reject Him. If there were a God of mercysuch as you cling to, could He suffer that such things be? You are my god,husband, to you and for you I pray, and you alone. Let us have done now withpleading to those who are not, or who, if they live, are deaf to our cries andblind to our misery, and befriend ourselves. Yonder lies rope, that window hasbars, very soon we can be beyond the sun and the cruelty of Teules, or soundasleep. But there is time yet; let us talk a while, they will scarcely begintheir torments before the dawn, and ere dawn we shall be far.”

So we talked as well as my sufferings would allow. We talked of how we firsthad met, of how Otomie had been vowed to me as the wife of Tezcat, Soul of theWorld, of that day when we had lain side by side upon the stone of sacrifice,of our true marriage thereafter, of the siege of Tenoctitlan and the death ofour first-born. Thus we talked till midnight was two hours gone. Then therecame a silence.

“Husband,” said Otomie at last in a hushed and solemn voice,“you are worn with suffering, and I am weary. It is time to do that whichmust be done. Sad is our fate, but at least rest is before us. I thank you,husband, for your gentleness, I thank you more for your faithfulness to myhouse and people. Shall I make ready for our last journey?”

“Make ready!” I answered.

Then she rose and soon was busy with the ropes. At length all was prepared andthe moment of death was at hand.

“You must aid me, Otomie,” I said; “I cannot walk bymyself.”

She came and lifted me with her strong and tender arms, till I stood upon astool beneath the window bars. There she placed the rope about my throat, thentaking her stand by me she fitted the second rope upon her own. Now we kissedin solemn silence, for there was nothing more to say. Yet Otomie saidsomething, asking:

“Of whom do you think in this moment, husband? Of me and of my deadchild, or of that lady who lives far across the sea? Nay, I will not ask. Ihave been happy in my love, it is enough. Now love and life must end together,and it is well for me, but for you I grieve. Say, shall I thrust away thestool?”

“Yes, Otomie, since there is no hope but death. I cannot break my faithwith Guatemoc, nor can I live to see you shamed and tortured.”

“Then kiss me first and for the last time.”

We kissed again and then, as she was in the very act of pushing the stool frombeneath us, the door opened and shut, and a veiled woman stood before us,bearing a torch in one hand and a bundle in the other. She looked, and seeingus and our dreadful purpose, ran to us.

“What do you?” she cried, and I knew the voice for that of Marina.“Are you then mad, Teule?”

“Who is this who knows you so well, husband, and will not even sufferthat we die in peace?” asked Otomie.

“I am Marina,” answered the veiled woman, “and I come to saveyou if I can.”

CHAPTER XXX
THE ESCAPE

Now Otomie put the rope off her neck, and descending from the stool, stoodbefore Marina.

“You are Marina,” she said coldly and proudly, “and you cometo save us, you who have brought ruin on the land that bore you, and have giventhousands of her children to death, and shame, and torment. Now, if I had myway, I would have none of your salvation, nay, I would rather save myself as Iwas about to do.”

Thus Otomie spoke, and never had she looked more royal than in this moment,when she risked her last chance of life that she might pour out her scorn uponone whom she deemed a traitress, no, one who was a traitress, for had it notbeen for Marina’s wit and aid, Cortes would never have conquered Anahuac.I trembled as I heard her angry words, for, all I suffered notwithstanding,life still seemed sweet to me, who, ten seconds ago, had stood upon the vergeof death. Surely Marina would depart and leave us to our doom. But it was notso. Indeed, she shrank and trembled before Otomie’s contempt. They were astrange contrast in their different loveliness as they stood face to face inthe torture den, and it was strange also to see the spirit of the lady of royalblood, threatened as she was with a shameful death, or still more shamefullife, triumph over the Indian girl whom to-day fortune had set as far above heras the stars.

“Say, royal lady,” asked Marina in her gentle voice, “forwhat cause did you, if tales are true, lie by the side of yonder white man uponthe stone of sacrifice?”

“Because I love him, Marina.”

“And for this same cause have I, Marina, laid my honour upon a differentaltar, for this same cause I have striven against the children of my people,because I love another such as he. It is for love of Cortes that I have aidedCortes, therefore despise me not, but let your love plead for mine, seeingthat, to us women, love is all. I have sinned, I know, but doubtless in itsseason my sin shall find a fitting punishment.”

“It had need be sharp,” answered Otomie. “My love has harmednone, see before you but one grain of the countless harvest of your own. Inyonder chair Guatemoc your king was this day tortured by your master Cortes,who swore to treat him with all honour. By his side sat Teule, my husband andyour friend; him Cortes gave over to his private enemy, de Garcia, whom youname Sarceda. See how he has left him. Nay, do not shudder, gentle lady; looknow at his wounds! Consider to what a pass we are driven when you find us aboutto die thus like dogs, he, my husband, that he may not live to see me handledas he has been, and I with him, because a princess of the Otomie and ofMontezuma’s blood cannot submit to such a shame while death has one doorthrough which to creep. It is but a single grain of your harvest, outcast andtraitress, the harvest of misery and death that is stored yonder in the ruinsof Tenoctitlan. Had I my will, I tell you that I had sooner die a score oftimes than take help from a hand so stained with the blood of my people and ofyours—I—”

“Oh! cease, lady, cease,” groaned Marina, covering her eyes withher hand, as though the sight of Otomie were dreadful to her. “What isdone is done; do not add to my remorse. What did you say, that you, the ladyOtomie, were brought here to be tortured?”

“Even so, and before my husband’s eyes. Why shouldMontezuma’s daughter and the princess of the Otomie escape the fate ofthe emperor of the Aztecs? If her womanhood does not protect her, has sheanything to hope of her lost rank?”

“Cortes knows nothing of this, I swear it,” said Marina. “Tothe rest he has been driven by the clamour of the soldiers, who taunt him withstealing treasure that he has never found. But of this last wickedness he isinnocent.”

“Then let him ask his tool Sarceda of it.”

“As for Sarceda, I promise you, princess, that if I can I will avengethis threat upon him. But time is short, I am come here with the knowledge ofCortes, to see if I can win the secret of the treasure from Teule, yourhusband, and for my friendship’s sake I am about to betray my trust andhelp him and you to fly. Do you refuse my aid?”

Otomie said nothing, but I spoke for the first time.

“Nay, Marina, I have no love for this thief’s fate if I can escapeit, but how is it to be done?”

“The chance is poor enough, Teule, but I bethought me that once out ofthis prison you might slip away disguised. Few will be stirring at dawn, and ofthem the most will not be keen to notice men or things. See, I have brought youthe dress of a Spanish soldier; your skin is dark, and in the half light youmight pass as one; and for the princess your wife, I have brought anotherdress, indeed I am ashamed to offer it, but it is the only one that will not benoted at this hour; also, Teule, I bring you a sword, that which was taken fromyou, though I think that once it had another owner.”

Now while she spoke Marina undid her bundle, and there in it were the dressesand the sword, the same that I had taken from the Spaniard Diaz in the massacreof the noche triste. First she drew out the woman’s robe andhanded it to Otomie, and I saw that it was such a robe as among the Indians isworn by the women who follow camps, a robe with red and yellow in it. Otomiesaw it also and drew back.

“Surely, girl, you have brought a garment of your own in error,”she said quietly, but in such a fashion as showed more of the savage heart thatis native to her race than she often suffered to be seen; “at the least Icannot wear such robes.”

“It seems that I must bear too much,” answered Marina, growingwroth at last, and striving to keep back the tears that started to her eyes.“I will away and leave you;” and she began to roll up her bundle.

“Forgive her, Marina,” I said hastily, for the desire to escapegrew on me every minute; “sorrow has set an edge upon her tongue.”Then turning to Otomie I added, “I pray you be more gentle, wife, for mysake if not for your own. Marina is our only hope.”

“Would that she had left us to die in peace, husband. Well, so be it, foryour sake I will put on these garments of a drab. But how shall we escape outof this place and the camp? Will the door be opened to us, and the guardsremoved, and if we pass them, can you walk, husband?”

“The doors will not be opened, lady,” said Marina, “for thosewait without, who will see that they are locked when I have passed them. Butthere will be nothing to fear from the guard, trust to me for it. See, the barsof this window are but of wood, that sword will soon sever them, and if you areseen you must play the part of a drunken soldier being guided to his quartersby a woman. For the rest I know nothing, save that I run great risk for yoursakes, since if it is discovered that I have aided you, then I shall find ithard to soften the rage of Cortes, who, the war being won,” and shesighed, “does not need me now so much as once he did.”

“I can make shift to hop on my right foot,” I said, “and forthe rest we must trust to fortune. It can give us no worse gifts than those wehave already.”

“So be it, Teule, and now farewell, for I dare stay no longer. I can donothing more. May your good star shine on you and lead you hence in safety; andTeule, if we never meet again, I pray you think of me kindly, for there aremany in the world who will do otherwise in the days to come.”

“Farewell, Marina,” I said, and she was gone.

We heard the doors close behind her, and the distant voices of those who boreher litter, then all was silence. Otomie listened at the window for a while,but the guards seemed to be gone, where or why I do not know to this hour, andthe only sound was that of distant revelry from the camp.

“And now to the work,” I said to Otomie.

“As you wish, husband, but I fear it will be profitless. I do not trustthat woman. Faithless in all, without doubt she betrays us. Still at the worstyou have the sword, and can use it.”

“It matters little,” I answered. “Our plight cannot be worsethan it is now; life has no greater evils than torment and death, and they arewith us already.”

Then I sat upon the stool, and my arms being left sound and strong, I hackedwith the sharp sword at the wooden bars of the window, severing them one by onetill there was a space big enough for us to creep through. This being done andno one having appeared to disturb us, Otomie clad me in the clothes of aSpanish soldier which Marina had brought, for I could not dress myself. What Isuffered in the donning of those garments, and more especially in the pullingof the long boot on to my burnt foot, can never be told, but more than once Istopped, pondering whether it would not be better to die rather than to enduresuch agonies. At last it was done, and Otomie must put on the red and yellowrobe, a garb of shame such as many honest Indian women would die sooner than beseen in, and I think that as she did this, her agony was greater than mine,though of another sort, for to her proud heart, that dress was a very shirt ofNessus. Presently she was clad, and minced before me with savage mockery,saying:

“Prithee, soldier, do I look my part?”

“A peace to such fooling,” I answered; “our lives are atstake, what does it matter how we disguise ourselves?”

“It matters much, husband, but how can you understand, who are a man anda foreigner? Now I will clamber through the window, and you must follow me ifyou can, if not I will return to you and we will end this masquerade.”

Then she passed through the hole swiftly, for Otomie was agile and strong as anocelot, and mounting the stool I made shift to follow her as well as my hurtswould allow. In the end I was able to throw myself upon the sill of the window,and there I was stretched out like a dead cat till she drew me across it, and Ifell with her to the ground on the further side, and lay groaning. She liftedme to my feet, or rather to my foot, for I could use but one of them, and westared round us. No one was to be seen, and the sound of revelry had died away,for the crest of Popo was already red with the sunlight and the dawn grew inthe valley.

“Where to?” I said.

Now Otomie had been allowed to walk in the camp with her sister, the wife ofGuatemoc, and other Aztec ladies, and she had this gift in common with mostIndians, that where she had once passed there she could pass again, even in thedarkest night.

“To the south gate,” she whispered; “perhaps it is unguardednow that the war is done, at the least I know the road thither.”

So we started, I leaning on her shoulder and hopping on my right foot, and thusvery painfully we traversed some three hundred yards meeting nobody. But nowour good luck failed us, for passing round the corner of some buildings, wecame face to face with three soldiers returning to their huts from a midnightrevel, and with them some native servants.

“Whom have we here?” said the first of these. “Your name,comrade?”

“Good-night, brother, good-night,” I answered in Spanish, speakingwith the thick voice of drunkenness.

“Good morning, you mean,” he said, for the dawn was breaking.“Your name. I don’t know your face, though it seems that you havebeen in the wars,” and he laughed.

“You mustn’t ask a comrade his name,” I said solemnly andswinging to and fro. “The captain might send for me and he’s atemperate man. Your arm, girl; it is time to go to sleep, the sun sets.”

They laughed, but one of them addressed Otomie, saying:

“Leave the sot, my pretty, and come and walk with us,” and hecaught her by the arm. But she turned on him with so fierce a look that he lether go again astonished, and we staggered on till the corner of another househid us from their view. Here I sank to the ground overcome with pain, for whilethe soldiers were in sight, I was obliged to use my wounded foot lest theyshould suspect. But Otomie pulled me up, saying:

“Alas! beloved, we must pass on or perish.”

I rose groaning, and by what efforts I reached the south gate I cannotdescribe, though I thought that I must die before I came there. At last it wasbefore us, and as chance would have it, the Spanish guard were asleep in theguardhouse. Three Tlascalans only were crouched over a little fire, theirzerapesor blankets about their heads, for the dawn was chilly.

“Open the gates, dogs!” I said in a proud voice.

Seeing a Spanish soldier one of them rose to obey, then paused and said:

“Why, and by whose orders?”

I could not see the man’s face because of the blanket, but his voicesounded familiar to me and I grew afraid. Still I must speak.

“Why?—because I am drunk and wish to lie without till I grow sober.By whose orders? By mine, I am an officer of the day, and if you disobeyI’ll have you flogged till you never ask another question.”

“Shall I call the Teules within?” said the man sulkily to hiscompanion.

“No,” he answered; “the lord Sarceda is weary and gave ordersthat he should not be awakened without good cause. Keep them in or let themthrough as you will, but do not wake him.”

I trembled in every limb; de Garcia was in the guardhouse! What if he awoke,what if he came out and saw me? More—now I guessed whose voice it wasthat I knew again; it was that of one of those Tlascalans who had aided intormenting me. What if he should see my face? He could scarcely fail to knowthat on which he had left his mark so recently. I was dumb with fear and couldsay nothing, and had it not been for the wit of Otomie, there my story wouldhave ended. But now she played her part and played it well, plying the man withthe coarse raillery of the camp, till at length she put him in a good humour,and he opened the gate, bidding her begone and me with her. Already we hadpassed the gate when a sudden faintness seized me, and I stumbled and fell,rolling over on to my back as I touched the earth.

“Up, friend, up!” said Otomie, with a harsh laugh. “If youmust sleep, wait till you find some friendly bush,” and she dragged at meto lift me. The Tlascalan, still laughing, came forward to help her, andbetween them I gained my feet again, but as I rose, my cap, which fitted me butill, fell off. He picked it up and gave it to me and our eyes met, my facebeing somewhat in the shadow. Next instant I was hobbling on, but looking back,I saw the Tlascalan staring after us with a puzzled air, like that of a man whois not sure of the witness of his senses.

“He knows me,” I said to Otomie, “and presently when he hasfound his wits, he will follow us.”

“On, on!” answered Otomie; “round yonder corner are aloebushes where we may hide.”

“I am spent, I can no more;” and again I began to fall.

Then Otomie caught me as I fell, and of a sudden she put out her strength, andlifting me from the ground, as a mother lifts her child, staggered forwardholding me to her breast. For fifty paces or more she carried me thus, love anddespair giving her strength, till at last we reached the edge of the aloeplants and there we sank together to the earth. I cast my eyes back over thepath which we had travelled. Round the corner came the Tlascalan, a spiked clubin his hand, seeking us to solve his doubts.

“It is finished,” I gasped; “the man comes.”

For answer Otomie drew my sword from its scabbard and hid it in the grass.“Now feign sleep,” she said; “it is our last chance.”

I cast my arm over my face and pretended to be asleep. Presently I heard thesound of a man passing through the bushes, and the Tlascalan stood over me.

“What would you?” asked Otomie. “Can you not see that hesleeps? Let him sleep.”

“I must look on his face first, woman,” he answered, dragging asidemy arm. “By the gods, I thought so! This is that Teule whom we dealt withyesterday and who escapes.”

“You are mad,” she said laughing. “He has escaped fromnowhere, save from a brawl and a drinking bout.”

“You lie, woman, or if you do not lie, you know nothing. This man has thesecret of Montezuma’s treasure, and is worth a king’sransom,” and he lifted his club.

“And yet you wish to slay him! Well, I know nothing of him. Take him backwhence he came. He is but a drunken sot and I shall be well rid of him.”

“Well said. It would be foolish to kill him, but by bearing him alive tothe lord Sarceda, I shall win honour and reward. Come, help me.”

“Help yourself,” she answered sullenly. “But first search hispouch; there may be some trifle there which we can divide.”

“Well said, again,” he answered, and kneeling down he bent over meand began to fumble at the fastenings of the pouch.

Otomie was behind him. I saw her face change and a terrible light came into hereyes, such a light as shines in the eyes of the priest at sacrifice. Quick asthought she drew the sword from the grass and smote with all her strength uponthe man’s bent neck. Down he fell, making no sound, and she also fellbeside him. In a moment she was on her feet again, staring at himwildly—the naked sword in her hand.

“Up,” she said, “before others come to seek him. Nay, youmust.”

Now, again we were struggling forward through the bushes, my mind filled with agreat wonder that grew slowly to a whirling nothingness. For a while it seemedto me as though I were lost in an evil dream and walking on red hot irons in mydream. Then came a vision of armed men with lifted spears, and of Otomierunning towards them with outstretched arms.

I knew no more.

CHAPTER XXXI
OTOMIE PLEADS WITH HER PEOPLE

When I awoke it was to find myself in a cave, where the light shone very dimly.Otomie leant over me, and not far away a man was cooking a pot over a fire madeof dry aloe leaves.

“Where am I and what has happened?” I asked.

“You are safe, beloved,” she answered, “at least for awhile.When you have eaten I will tell you more.”

She brought me broth and food and I ate eagerly, and when I was satisfied shespoke.

“You remember how the Tlascalan followed us and how—I was rid ofhim?”

“I remember, Otomie, though how you found strength to kill him I do notunderstand.”

“Love and despair gave it to me, and I pray that I may never have suchanother need. Do not speak of it, husband, for this is more horrible to me thanall that has been before. One thing comforts me, however; I did not kill him,the sword twisted in my hand and I believe that he was but stunned. Then wefled a little way, and looking back I saw that two other Tlascalans, companionsof the senseless man, were following us and him. Presently, they came up towhere he lay and stared at him. Then they started on our tracks, running hard,and very soon they must have caught us, for now you could scarcely stir, yourmind was gone, and I had no more strength to carry you. Still we stumbled ontill presently, when the pursuers were within fifty paces of us, I saw armedmen, eight of them, rushing at us from the bushes. They were of my own people,the Otomies, soldiers that had served under you, who watched the Spanish camp,and seeing a Spaniard alone they came to slay him. They very nearly did soindeed, for at first I was so breathless that I could scarcely speak, but atlast in few words I made shift to declare my name and rank, and your sadplight. By now the two Tlascalans were upon us, and I called to the men of theOtomie to protect us, and falling on the Tlascalans before they knew thatenemies were there, they killed one of them and took the other prisoner. Thenthey made a litter, and placing you on it, bore you without rest twenty leaguesinto the mountains, till they reached this secret hiding place, and here youhave lain three days and nights. The Teules have searched for you far and wide,but they have searched in vain. Only yesterday two of them with ten Tlascalans,passed within a hundred paces of this cave and I had much ado to prevent ourpeople from attacking them. Now they are gone whence they came, and I thinkthat we are safe for a time. Soon you will be better and we can gohence.”

“Where can we go to, Otomie? We are birds without a nest.”

“We must seek shelter in the City of Pines, or fly across the water;there is no other choice, husband.”

“We cannot try the sea, Otomie, for all the ships that come here areSpanish, and I do not know how they will greet us in the City of Pines now thatour cause is lost, and with it so many thousands of their warriors.”

“We must take the risk, husband. There are still true hearts in Anahuac,who will stand by us in our sorrow and their own. At the least we have escapedfrom greater dangers. Now let me dress your wounds and rest awhile.”

So for three more days I lay in the cave of the mountains and Otomie tended me,and at the end of that time my state was such that I could travel in a litter,though for some weeks I was unable to set foot to the ground. On the fourth daywe started by night, and I was carried on men’s shoulders till at lengthwe passed up the gorge that leads to the City of Pines. Here we were stopped bysentries to whom Otomie told our tale, bidding some of them go forward andrepeat it to the captains of the city. We followed the messengers slowly, formy bearers were weary, and came to the gates of the beautiful town just as thered rays of sunset struck upon the snowy pinnacle of Xaca that towers behindit, turning her cap of smoke to a sullen red, like that of molten iron.

The news of our coming had spread about, and here and there knots of peoplewere gathered to watch us pass. For the most part they stood silent, but nowand again some woman whose husband or son had perished in the siege, would hissa curse at us.

Alas! how different was our state this day to what it had been when not a yearbefore we entered the City of Pines for the first time. Then we were escortedby an army ten thousand strong, then musicians had sung before us and our pathwas strewn with flowers. And now! Now we came two fugitives from the vengeanceof the Teules, I borne in a litter by four tired soldiers, while Otomie, theprincess of this people, still clad in her wanton’s robe, at which thewomen mocked, for she had been able to come by no other, tramped at my side,since there were none to carry her, and the inhabitants of the place cursed usas the authors of their woes. Nor did we know if they would stop at words.

At length we crossed the square beneath the shadow of the teocalli, andreached the ancient and sculptured palace as the light failed, and the smoke onXaca, the holy hill, began to glow with the fire in its heart. Here smallpreparation had been made to receive us, and that night we supped by the lightof a torch upon tortillasor meal cakes and water, like the humblest inthe land. Then we crept to our rest, and as I lay awake because of the pain ofmy hurts, I heard Otomie, who thought that I slept, break into low sobbing atmy side. Her proud spirit was humbled at last, and she, whom I had never knownto weep except once, when our firstborn died in the siege, wept bitterly.

“Why do you sorrow thus, Otomie?” I asked at length.

“I did not know that you were awake, husband,” she sobbed inanswer, “or I would have checked my grief. Husband, I sorrow over allthat has befallen us and my people—also, though these are but littlethings, because you are brought low and treated as a man of no estate, and ofthe cold comfort that we find here.”

“You have cause, wife,” I answered. “Say, what will theseOtomies do with us—kill us, or give us up to the Teules?”

“I do not know; to-morrow we shall learn, but for my part I will not besurrendered living.”

“Nor I, wife. Death is better than the tender mercies of Cortes and hisminister, de Garcia. Is there any hope?”

“Yes, there is hope, beloved. Now the Otomie are cast down and theyremember that we led the flower of their land to death. But they are brave andgenerous at heart, and if I can touch them there, all may yet be well.Weariness, pain and memory make us weak, who should be full of courage, havingescaped so many ills. Sleep, my husband, and leave me to think. All shall yetgo well, for even misfortune has an end.”

So I slept, and woke in the morning somewhat refreshed and with a happier mind,for who is there that is not bolder when the light shines on him and he isrenewed by rest?

When I opened my eyes the sun was already high, but Otomie had risen with thedawn and she had not been idle during those three hours. For one thing she hadcontrived to obtain food and fresh raiment more befitting to our rank than therags in which we were clothed. Also she had brought together certain men ofcondition who were friendly and loyal to her in misfortune, and these she sentabout the city, letting it be known that she would address the people atmid-day from the steps of the palace, for as Otomie knew well, the heartstringsof a crowd are touched more easily than those of cold and ancient counsellors.

“Will they come to listen?” I asked.

“Have no fear,” she answered. “The desire to look upon us whohave survived the siege, and to know the truth of what has happened, will bringthem. Moreover, some will be there seeking vengeance on us.”

Otomie was right, for as the morning drew on towards mid-day, I saw thedwellers in the City of Pines gathering in thousands, till the space betweenthe steps of the palace and the face of the pyramid was black with them. NowOtomie combed her curling hair and placed flowers in it, and set a gleamingfeather cloak about her shoulders, so that it hung down over her white robes,and on her breast that splendid necklace of emeralds which Guatemoc had givento me in the treasure chamber, and which she had preserved safely through allour evil fortune, and a golden girdle about her waist. In her hand also shetook a little sceptre of ebony tipped with gold, that was in the palace, withother ornaments and emblems of rank, and thus attired, though she was worn withtravel and suffering, and grief had dimmed her beauty for a while, she seemedthe queenliest woman that my eyes have seen. Next she caused me to be laid uponmy rude litter, and when the hour of noon was come, she commanded thosesoldiers who had borne me across the mountains to carry me by her side. Thus weissued from the wide doorway of the palace and took our stand upon the platformat the head of the steps. As we came a great cry rose from the thousands of thepeople, a fierce cry like that of wild beasts howling for their prey. Higherand higher it rose, a sound to strike terror into the bravest heart, and bydegrees I caught its purport.

“Kill them!” said the cry. “Give the liars to theTeules.”

Otomie stepped forward to the edge of the platform, and lifting the ebonysceptre she stood silent, the sunlight beating on her lovely face and form. Butthe multitude screamed a thousand taunts and threats at us, and still thetumult grew. Once they rushed towards her as though to tear her to pieces, butfell back at the last stair, as a wave falls from a rock, and once a spear wasthrown that passed between her neck and shoulder.

Now the soldiers who had carried me, making certain that our death was at hand,and having no wish to share it, set my litter down upon the stones and slippedback into the palace, but all this while Otomie never so much as moved, no, noteven when the spear hissed past her. She stood before them stately andscornful, a very queen among women, and little by little the majesty of herpresence and the greatness of her courage hushed them to silence. When therewas quiet at length, she spoke in a clear voice that carried far.

“Am I among my own people of the Otomie?” she asked bitterly,“or have we lost our path and wandered perchance among some savageTlascalan tribe? Listen, people of the Otomie. I have but one voice and nonecan reason with a multitude. Choose you a tongue to speak for you, and let himset out the desire of your hearts.”

Now the tumult began again, for some shouted one name and some another, but inthe end a priest and noble named Maxtla stepped forward, a man of great poweramong the Otomie, who, above all had favoured an alliance with the Spaniardsand opposed the sending of an army to aid Guatemoc in the defence ofTenoctitlan. Nor did he come alone, for with him were four chiefs, whom bytheir dress I knew to be Tlascalans and envoys from Cortes. Then my heart sank,for it was not difficult to guess the object of their coming.

“Speak on, Maxtla,” said Otomie, “for we must hear what thereis for us to answer, and you, people of the Otomie, I pray you keep silence,that you may judge between us when there is an end of talking.”

Now a great silence fell upon the multitude, who pressed together like sheep ina pen, and strained their ears to catch the words of Maxtla.

“My speech with you, princess, and the Teule your outlawed husband, shallbe short and sharp,” he began roughly. “A while hence you camehither to seek an army to aid Cuitlahua, Emperor of the Aztecs, in his strugglewith the Teules, the sons of Quetzal. That army was given you, against thewishes of many of us, for you won over the council by the honey of your words,and we who urged caution, or even an alliance with the white men, the childrenof god, were overruled. You went hence, and twenty thousand men, the flower ofour people, followed you to Tenoctitlan. Where are they now? I will tell you.Some two hundred of them have crept back home, the rest fly to and fro throughthe air in the gizzards of the zaphilotes, or crouch on the earth in thebellies of jackals. Death has them all, and you led them to their deaths. Is itthen much that we should seek the lives of you two in payment for those oftwenty thousand of our sons, our husbands, and our fathers? But we do not evenask this. Here beside me stand ambassadors from Malinche, the captain of theTeules, who reached our city but an hour ago. This is the demand that theybring from Malinche, and in his own words:

“‘Deliver back to me Otomie, the daughter of Montezuma, and therenegade her paramour, who is known as Teule, and who has fled from the justicedue to his crimes, and it shall be well with you, people of the Otomie. Hidethem or refuse to deliver them, and the fate of the City of Pines shall be asthe fate of Tenoctitlan, queen of the valley. Choose then between my love andmy wrath, people of the Otomie. If you obey, the past shall be forgiven and myyoke will be light upon you; if you refuse, your city shall be stamped flat andyour very name wiped out of the records of the world.’

“Say, messengers of Malinche, are not these the words of Malinche?”

“They are his very words, Maxtla,” said the spokesman of theembassy.

Now again there was a tumult among the people, and voices cried, “Givethem up, give them to Malinche as a peace offering.” Otomie stood forwardto speak and it died away, for all desired to hear her words. Then she spoke:

“It seems, people of the Otomie, that I am on my trial before my ownvassals, and my husband with me. Well, I will plead our cause as well as awoman may, and having the power, you shall judge between us and Maxtla and hisallies, Malinche and the Tlascalans. What is our offence? It is that we camehither by the command of Cuitlahua to seek your aid in his war with the Teules.What did I tell you then? I told you that if the people of Anahuac would notstand together against the white men, they must be broken one by one like thesticks of an unbound faggot, and cast into the flames. Did I speak lies? Nay, Ispoke truth, for through the treason of her tribes, and chiefly through thetreason of the Tlascalans, Anahuac is fallen, and Tenoctitlan is a ruin sownwith dead like a field with corn.”

“It is true,” cried a voice.

“Yes, people of the Otomie, it is true, but I say that had all thewarriors of the nations of Anahuac played the part that your sons played, thetale had run otherwise. They are dead, and because of their death you woulddeliver us to our foes and yours, but I for one do not mourn them, though amongtheir number are many of my kin. Nay, be not wroth, but listen. It is betterthat they should lie dead in honour, having earned for themselves a wreath offame, and an immortal dwelling in the Houses of the Sun, than that they shouldlive to be slaves, which it seems is your desire, people of the Otomie. Thereis no false word in what I said to you. Now the sticks that Malinche has usedto beat out the brains of Guatemoc shall be broken and burnt to cook the pot ofthe Teules. Already these false children are his slaves. Have you not heard hiscommand, that the tribes his allies shall labour in the quarries and thestreets till the glorious city which he has burned rises afresh upon the faceof the waters? Will you not hasten to take your share in the work, people ofthe Otomie, the work that knows no rest and no reward except the lash of theoverseer and the curse of the Teule? Surely you will hasten, people of themountains! Your hands are shaped to the spade and the trowel, not to the bowand the spear, and it will be sweeter to toil to do the will and swell thewealth of Malinche in the sun of the valley or the shadow of the mine, than tobide here free upon your hills where as yet no foe has set his foot!”

Again she paused, and a murmur of doubt and unrest went through the thousandswho listened. Maxtla stepped forward and would have spoken, but the peopleshouted him down, crying: “Otomie, Otomie! Let us hear the words ofOtomie.”

“I thank you, my people,” she said, “for I have still much totell you. Our crime is then, that we drew an army after us to fight against theTeules. And how did we draw this army? Did I command you to muster your array?Nay, I set out my case and I said ‘Now choose.’ You chose, and ofyour own free will you despatched those glorious companies that now are dead.My crime is therefore that you chose wrongly as you say, but as I still hold,most rightly, and because of this crime I and my husband are to be given as apeace offering to the Teules. Listen: let me tell you something of those warsin which we have fought before you give us to the Teules and our mouths aresilent for ever. Where shall I begin? I know not. Stay, I bore achild—had he lived he would have been your prince to-day. That child Isaw starve to death before my eyes, inch by inch and day by day I saw himstarve. But it is nothing; who am I that I should complain because I have lostmy son, when so many of your sons are dead and their blood is required at myhands? Listen again:” and she went on to tell in burning words of thehorrors of the siege, of the cruelties of the Spaniards, and of the bravery ofthe men of the Otomie whom I had commanded. For a full hour she spoke thus,while all that vast audience hung upon her words. Also she told of the partthat I played in the struggle, and of the deeds which I had done, and now andagain some soldier in the crowd who served under me, and who had escaped thefamine and the massacre, cried out:

“It is true; we saw it with our eyes.”

“And so,” she said, “at last it was finished, at lastTenoctitlan was a ruin and my cousin and my king, the glorious Guatemoc, lay aprisoner in the hands of Malinche, and with him my husband Teule, my sister, Imyself, and many another. Malinche swore that he would treat Guatemoc and hisfollowing with all honour. Do you know how he treated him? Within a few daysGuatemoc our king was seated in the chair of torment, while slaves burned himwith hot irons to cause him to declare the hiding place of the treasure ofMontezuma! Ay, you may well cry ‘Shame upon him,’ you shall cry ityet more loudly before I have done, for know that Guatemoc did not sufferalone, one lies there who suffered with him and spoke no word, and I also, yourprincess, was doomed to torment. We escaped when death was at our door, for Itold my husband that the people of the Otomie had true hearts, and wouldshelter us in our sorrow, and for his sake I, Otomie, disguised myself in therobe of a wanton and fled with him hither. Could I have known what I shouldlive to see and hear, could I have dreamed that you would receive us thus, Ihad died a hundred deaths before I came to stand and plead for pity at yourhands.

“Oh! my people, my people, I beseech of you, make no terms with the falseTeule, but remain bold and free. Your necks are not fitted to the yoke of theslave, your sons and daughters are of too high a blood to serve the foreignerin his needs and pleasures. Defy Malinche. Some of our race are dead, but manythousands remain. Here in your mountain nest you can beat back every Teule inAnahuac, as in bygone years the false Tlascalans beat back the Aztecs. Then theTlascalans were free, now they are a race of serfs. Say, will you share theirserfdom? My people, my people, think not that I plead for myself, or even forthe husband who is more dear to me than aught save honour. Do you indeed dreamthat we will suffer you to hand us living to these dogs of Tlascalans, whomMalinche insults you by sending as his messengers? Look,” and she walkedto where the spear that had been hurled at her lay upon the pavement and liftedit, “here is a means of death that some friend has sent us, and if youwill not listen to my pleading you shall see it used before your eyes. Then, ifyou will, you may send our bodies to Malinche as a peace offering. But for yourown sakes I plead with you. Defy Malinche, and if you must die at last, die asfree men and not as the slaves of the Teule. Behold now his tender mercies, andsee the lot that shall be yours if you take another counsel, the counsel ofMaxtla;” and coming to the litter on which I lay, swiftly Otomie rent myrobes from me leaving me almost naked to the waist, and unwound the bandagesfrom my wounded limb, then lifted me up so that I rested upon my sound foot.

“Look!” she cried in a piercing voice, and pointing to the scarsand unhealed wounds upon my face and leg; “look on the work of the Teuleand the Tlascalan, see how the foe is dealt with who surrenders to them. Yieldif you will, desert us if you will, but I say that then your own bodies shallbe marked in a like fashion, till not an ounce of gold is left that canminister to the greed of the Teule, or a man or a maiden who can labour tosatisfy his indolence.”

Then she ceased, and letting me sink gently to the ground, for I could notstand alone, she stood over me, the spear in her hand, as though waiting toplunge it to my heart should the people still demand our surrender to themessengers of Cortes.

For one instant there was silence, then of a sudden the clamour and the tumultbroke out again ten times more furiously than at first. But it was no longeraimed at us. Otomie had conquered. Her noble words, her beauty, the tale of oursorrows and the sight of my torments, had done their work, and the heart of thepeople was filled with fury against the Teules who had destroyed their army,and the Tlascalans that had aided them. Never did the wit and eloquence of awoman cause a swifter change. They screamed and tore their robes and shooktheir weapons in the air. Maxtla strove to speak, but they pulled him down andpresently he was flying for his life. Then they turned upon the Tlascalanenvoys and beat them with sticks, crying:

“This is our answer to Malinche. Run, you dogs, and take it!” tillthey were driven from the town.

Now at length the turmoil ceased, and some of the great chiefs came forwardand, kissing the hand of Otomie, said:

“Princess, we your children will guard you to the death, for you have putanother heart into us. You are right; it is better to die free than to live asslaves.”

“See, my husband,” said Otomie, “I was not mistaken when Itold you that my people were loyal and true. But now we must make ready forwar, for they have gone too far to turn back, and when this tidings comes tothe ears of Malinche he will be like a puma robbed of her young. Now, let usrest, I am very weary.”

“Otomie,” I answered, “there has lived no greater woman thanyou upon this earth.”

“I cannot tell, husband,” she said, smiling; “if I have wonyour praise and safety, it is enough for me.”

CHAPTER XXXII
THE END OF GUATEMOC

Now for a while we dwelt in quiet at the City of Pines, and by slow degrees andwith much suffering I recovered from the wounds that the cruel hand of deGarcia had inflicted upon me. But we knew that this peace could not last, andthe people of the Otomie knew it also, for had they not scourged the envoys ofMalinche out of the gates of their city? Many of them were now sorry that thishad been done, but it was done, and they must reap as they had sown.

So they made ready for war, and Otomie was the president of their councils, inwhich I shared. At length came news that a force of fifty Spaniards with fivethousand Tlascalan allies were advancing on the city to destroy us. Then I tookcommand of the tribesmen of the Otomie—there were ten thousand or more ofthem, all well-armed after their own fashion—and advanced out of the citytill I was two-thirds of the way down the gorge which leads to it. But I didnot bring all my army down this gorge, since there was no room for them tofight there, and I had another plan. I sent some seven thousand men round themountains, of which the secret paths were well known to them, bidding themclimb to the crest of the precipices that bordered either side of the gorge,and there, at certain places where the cliff is sheer and more than onethousand feet in height, to make a great provision of stones.

The rest of my army, excepting five hundred whom I kept with me, I armed withbows and throwing spears, and stationed them in ambush in convenient placeswhere the sides of the cliff were broken, and in such fashion that rocks fromabove could not be rolled on them. Then I sent trusty men as spies to warn meof the approach of the Spaniards, and others whose mission it was to offerthemselves to them as guides.

Now I thought my plan good, and everything looked well, and yet it missedfailure but by a very little. For Maxtla, our enemy and the friend of theSpaniards, was in my camp—indeed, I had brought him with me that I mightwatch him—and he had not been idle.

For when the Spaniards were half a day’s march from the mouth of thedefile, one of those men whom I had told off to watch their advance, came to meand made it known that Maxtla had bribed him to go to the leader of theSpaniards and disclose to him the plan of the ambuscade. This man had taken thebribe and started on his errand of treachery, but his heart failed him and,returning, he told me all. Then I caused Maxtla to be seized, and beforenightfall he had paid the price of his wickedness.

On the morning after his death the Spanish array entered the pass. Half-waydown it I met them with my five hundred men and engaged them, but suffered themto drive us back with some loss. As they followed they grew bolder and we fledfaster, till at length we flew down the defile followed by the Spanish horse.Now, some three furlongs from its mouth that leads to the City of Pines, thispass turns and narrows, and here the cliffs are so sheer and high that atwilight reigns at the foot of them.

Down the narrow way we ran in seeming rout, and after us came the Spaniardsshouting on their saints and flushed with victory. But scarcely had we turnedthe corner when they sang another song, for those who were watching a thousandfeet above us gave the signal, and down from on high came a rain of stones andboulders that darkened the air and crashed among them, crushing many of them.On they struggled, seeing a wider way in front where the cliffs sloped, andperhaps half of them won through. But here the archers were waiting, and now,in the place of stones, arrows were hailed upon them, till at length, utterlybewildered and unable to strike a blow in their own defence, they turned to flytowards the open country. This finished the fight, for now we assailed theirflank, and once more the rocks thundered on them from above, and the end of itwas that those who remained of the Spaniards and their Indian allies weredriven in utter rout back to the plain beyond the Pass of Pines.

After this battle the Spaniards troubled us no more for many years except bythreats, and my name grew great among the people of the Otomie.

One Spaniard I rescued from death and afterwards I gave him his liberty. Fromhim I inquired of the doings of de Garcia or Sarceda, and learned that he wasstill in the service of Cortes, but that Marina had been true to her word, andhad brought disgrace upon him because he had threatened to put Otomie to thetorture. Moreover Cortes was angry with him because of our escape, the burdenof which Marina had laid upon his shoulders, hinting that he had taken a bribeto suffer us to pass the gate.

Of the fourteen years of my life which followed the defeat of the Spaniards Ican speak briefly, for compared to the time that had gone before they wereyears of quiet. In them children were born to me and Otomie, three sons, andthese children were my great joy, for I loved them dearly and they loved me.Indeed, except for the strain of their mother’s blood, they were Englishboys and not Indian, for I christened them all, and taught them our Englishtongue and faith, and their mien and eyes were more English than Indian, thoughtheir skins were dark. But I had no luck with these dear children of mine, anymore than I have had with that which Lily bore me. Two of them died—onefrom a fever that all my skill would not avail to cure, and another by a fallfrom a lofty cedar tree, which he climbed searching for a kite’s nest.Thus of the three of them—since I do not speak now of that infant, myfirstborn, who perished in the siege—there remained to me only the eldestand best beloved of whom I must tell hereafter.

For the rest, jointly with Otomie I was named caciqueof the City ofPines at a great council that was held after I had destroyed the Spaniards andtheir allies, and as such we had wide though not absolute power. By theexercise of this power, in the end I succeeded in abolishing the horrible ritesof human sacrifice, though, because of this, a large number of the outlyingtribes fell away from our rule, and the enmity of the priests was excitedagainst me. The last sacrifice, except one only, the most terrible of them all,of which I will tell afterwards, that was ever celebrated on theteocalliin front of the palace, took place after the defeat of theSpaniards in the pass.

When I had dwelt three years in the City of Pines and two sons had been born tome there, secret messengers arrived that were sent by the friends of Guatemoc,who had survived the torture and was still a prisoner in the hands of Cortes.From these messengers we learned that Cortes was about to start upon anexpedition to the Gulf of Honduras, across the country that is now known asYucatan, taking Guatemoc and other Aztec nobles with him for he feared to leavethem behind. We heard also that there was much murmuring among the conqueredtribes of Anahuac because of the cruelties and extortions of the Spaniards, andmany thought that the hour had come when a rising against them might be carriedto a successful issue.

This was the prayer of those who sent the envoys, that I should raise a forceof Otomies and travel with it across the country to Yucatan, and there withothers who would be gathered, wait a favourable opportunity to throw myselfupon the Spaniards when they were entangled in the forests and swamps, puttingthem to the sword and releasing Guatemoc. Such was the first purpose of theplot, though it had many others of which it is useless to speak, seeing thatthey came to nothing.

When the message had been delivered I shook my head sadly, for I could see nohope in such a scheme, but the chief of the messengers rose and led me aside,saying that he had a word for my ear.

“Guatemoc sends these words,” he said; “I hear that you, mybrother, are free and safe with my cousin Otomie in the mountains of theOtomie. I, alas! linger in the prisons of the Teules like a crippled eagle in acage. My brother, if it is in your power to help me, do so I conjure you by thememory of our ancient friendship, and of all that we have suffered together.Then a time may still come when I shall rule again in Anahuac, and you shallsit at my side.”

I heard and my heart was stirred, for then, as to this hour, I loved Guatemocas a brother.

“Go back,” I said, “and find means to tell Guatemoc that if Ican save him I will, though I have small hopes that way. Still, let him lookfor me in the forests of Yucatan.”

Now when Otomie heard of this promise of mine she was vexed, for she said thatit was foolish and would only end in my losing my life. Still, having given itshe held with me that it must be carried out, and the end of it was that Iraised five hundred men, and with them set out upon my long and toilsome march,which I timed so as to meet Cortes in the passes of Yucatan. At the last momentOtomie wished to accompany me, but I forbade it, pointing out that she couldleave neither her children nor her people, and we parted with bitter grief forthe first time.

Of all the hardships that I underwent I will not write. For two and a halfmonths we struggled on across mountains and rivers and through swamps andforests, till at last we reached a mighty deserted city, that is calledPalenque by the Indians of those parts, which has been uninhabited for manygenerations. This city is the most marvellous place that I have seen in all mytravels, though much of it is hidden in bush, for wherever the travellerwanders there he finds vast palaces of marble, carven within and without, andsculptured teocallisand the huge images of grinning gods. Often have Iwondered what nation was strong enough to build such a capital, and who werethe kings that dwelt in it. But these are secrets belonging to the past, andthey cannot be answered till some learned man has found the key to the stonesymbols and writings with which the walls of the buildings are covered over.

In this city I hid with my men, though it was no easy task to persuade them totake up their habitation among so many ghosts of the departed, not to speak ofthe noisome fevers and the wild beasts and snakes that haunted it, for I hadinformation that the Spaniards would pass through the swamp that lies betweenthe ruins and the river, and there I hoped to ambush them. But on the eighthday of my hiding I learned from spies that Cortes had crossed the great riverhigher up, and was cutting his way through the forest, for of swamps he hadpassed more than enough. So I hurried also to the river intending to cross it.But all that day and all that night it rained as it can rain nowhere else inthe world that I have seen, till at last we waded on our road knee deep inwater, and when we came to the ford of the river it was to find a wide roaringflood, that no man could pass in anything less frail than a Yarmouth herringboat. So there on the bank we must stay in misery, suffering many ills fromfever, lack of food, and plenitude of water, till at length the stream randown.

Three days and nights we waited there, and on the fourth morning I made shiftto cross, losing four men by drowning in the passage. Once over, I hid my forcein the bush and reeds, and crept forward with six men only, to see if I coulddiscover anything of the whereabouts of the Spaniards. Within an hour I struckthe trail that they had cut through the forest, and followed it cautiously.Presently we came to a spot where the forest was thin, and here Cortes hadcamped, for there was heat left in the ashes of his fires, and among them laythe body of an Indian who had died from sickness. Not fifty yards from thiscamp stood a huge ceiba, a tree that has a habit of growth not unlikethat of our English oak, though it is soft wooded and white barked, and willincrease more in bulk in twenty years than any oak may in a hundred. Indeed Inever yet saw an oak tree so large as this ceibaof which I write,either in girth or in its spread of top, unless it be the Kirby oak or the treethat is called the “King of Scoto” which grows at Broome, that isthe next parish to this of Ditchingham in Norfolk. On this ceibatreemany zaphilotesor vultures were perched, and as we crept towards it Isaw what it was they came to seek, for from the lowest branches of theceibathree corpses swung in the breeze. “Here are theSpaniard’s footprints,” I said. “Let us look at them,”and we passed beneath the shadow of the tree.

As I came, a zaphilotealighted on the head of the body that hungnearest to me, and its weight, or the wafting of the fowl’s wing, causedthe dead man to turn round so that he came face to face with me. I looked,started back, then looked again and sank to the earth groaning. For here was hewhom I had come to seek and save, my friend, my brother, Guatemoc the lastemperor of Anahuac. Here he hung in the dim and desolate forest, dead by thedeath of a thief, while the vulture shrieked upon his head. I sat bewilderedand horror-stricken, and as I sat I remembered the proud sign of Aztec royalty,a bird of prey clasping an adder in its claw. There before me was the last ofthe stock, and behold! a bird of prey gripped his hair in its talons, a fittingemblem indeed of the fall of Anahuac and the kings of Anahuac.

I sprang to my feet with an oath, and lifting the bow I held I sent an arrowthrough the vulture and it fell to the earth fluttering and screaming. Then Ibade those with me to cut down the corpses of Guatemoc and of the prince ofTacuba and another noble who hung with him, and hollow a deep grave beneath thetree. There I laid them, and there I left them to sleep for ever in itsmelancholy shadow, and thus for the last time I saw Guatemoc my brother, whom Icame from far to save and found made ready for burial by the Spaniard.

Then I turned my face homewards, for now Anahuac had no king to rescue, but itchanced that before I went I caught a Tlascalan who could speak Spanish, andwho had deserted from the army of Cortes because of the hardships that hesuffered in their toilsome march. This man was present at the murder ofGuatemoc and his companions, and heard the Emperor’s last words. It seemsthat some knave had betrayed to Cortes that an attempt would be made to rescuethe prince, and that thereon Cortes commanded that he should be hung. It seemsalso that Guatemoc met his death as he had met the misfortunes of his life,proudly and without fear. These were his last words: “I did ill,Malinche, when I held my hand from taking my own life before I surrenderedmyself to you. Then my heart told me that all your promises were false, and ithas not lied to me. I welcome my death, for I have lived to know shame anddefeat and torture, and to see my people the slaves of the Teule, but still Isay that God will reward you for this deed.”

Then they murdered him in the midst of a great silence.

And so farewell to Guatemoc, the most brave, the best and the noblest Indianthat ever breathed, and may the shadow of his tormentings and shameful end liedeep upon the fame of Cortes for so long as the names of both of them areremembered among men!

For two more months I journeyed homeward and at length I reached the City ofPines, well though wearied, and having lost only forty men by variousmisadventures of travel, to find Otomie in good health, and overjoyed to knowme safe whom she thought never to see again. But when I told her what was theend of her cousin Guatemoc she grieved bitterly, both for his sake and becausethe last hope of the Aztec was gone, and she would not be comforted for manydays.

CHAPTER XXXIII
ISABELLA DE SIGUENZA IS AVENGED

For many years after the death of Guatemoc I lived with Otomie at peace in theCity of Pines. Our country was poor and rugged, and though we defied theSpaniards and paid them no tribute, now that Cortes had gone back to Spain,they had no heart to attempt our conquest. Save some few tribes that lived indifficult places like ourselves, all Anahuac was in their power, and there waslittle to gain except hard blows in the bringing of a remnant of the people ofthe Otomie beneath their yoke, so they let us be till a more convenient season.I say of a remnant of the Otomie, for as time went on many clans submitted tothe Spaniards, till at length we ruled over the City of Pines alone and someleagues of territory about it. Indeed it was only love for Otomie and respectfor the shadow of her ancient race and name, together with some reverence forme as one of the unconquerable white men, and for my skill as a general, thatkept our following together.

And now it may be asked was I happy in those years? I had much to make mehappy—no man could have been blessed with a wife more beautiful andloving, nor one who had exampled her affection by more signal deeds ofsacrifice. This woman of her own free will had lain by my side on the stone ofslaughter; overriding the instincts of her sex she had not shrunk from dippingher hands in blood to secure my safety, her wit had rescued me in many atrouble, her love had consoled me in many a sorrow: surely therefore ifgratitude can conquer the heart of man, mine should have been at her feet forever and a day, and so indeed it was, and in a sense is still. But cangratitude, can love itself, or any passion that rules our souls, make a manforget the house where he was born? Could I, an Indian chief struggling with afallen people against an inevitable destiny, forget my youth and all its hopesand fears, could I forget the valley of the Waveney and that Flower who dwelttherein, and forsworn though I might be, could I forget the oath that I oncehad sworn? Chance had been against me, circumstances overpowered me, and Ithink that there are few who, could they read this story, would not find in itexcuse for all that I had done. Certainly there are very few who, standingwhere I stood, surrounded as I was by doubts, difficulties, and dangers, wouldnot have acted as I did.

And yet memory would rise up against me, and time upon time I would lie awakeat night, even by the side of Otomie, and remember and repent, if a man mayrepent of that over which he has no control. For I was a stranger in a strangeland, and though my home was there and my children were about me, the longingfor my other home was yet with me, and I could not put away the memory of thatLily whom I had lost. Her ring was still upon my hand, but nothing else of herremained to me. I did not know if she were married or single, living or dead.The gulf between us widened with the widening years, but still the thought ofher went with me like my shadow; it shone across the stormy love of Otomie, Iremembered it even in my children’s kiss. And worst of all I despisedmyself for these regrets. Nay, if the worst can have a worse, there was onehere, for though she never spoke of it, I feared that Otomie had read my mind.

Heart to heart,
Though far apart,

so ran the writing upon Lily’s betrothal ring, and so it was with me. Farapart we were indeed, so far that no bridge that I might imagine could jointhat distance, and yet I could not say that we had ceased from being“heart to heart.” Her heart might throb no more, but mine beatstill toward it. Across the land, across the sea, across the gulf ofdeath—if she were dead—still in secret must I desire the love thatI had forsworn.

And so the years rolled on, bringing little of change with them, till I grewsure that here in this far place I should live and die. But that was not to bemy fate.

If any should read this, the story of my early life, he will remember that thetale of the death of a certain Isabella de Siguenza is pieced into its motley.He will remember how this Isabella, in the last moments of her life, calleddown a curse upon that holy father who added outrage and insult to her torment,praying that he might also die by the hands of fanatics and in a worse fashion.If my memory does not play me false, I have said that this indeed came to pass,and very strangely. For after the conquest of Anahuac by Cortes, among othersthis same fiery priest came from Spain to turn the Indians to the love of Godby torment and by sword. Indeed, of all of those who entered on this mission ofpeace, he was the most zealous. The Indian pabaswrought crueltiesenough when, tearing out the victim’s heart, they offered it like incenseto Huitzel or to Quetzal, but they at least dismissed his soul to the Mansionsof the Sun. With the Christian priests the thumb-screw and the stake took theplace of the stone of sacrifice, but the soul which they delivered from itsearthly bondage they consigned to the House of Hell.

Of these priests a certain Father Pedro was the boldest and the most cruel. Toand fro he passed, marking his path with the corpses of idolaters, until heearned the name of the “Christian Devil.” At length he ventured toofar in his holy fervour, and was seized by a clan of the Otomie that had brokenfrom our rule upon this very question of human sacrifice, but which was not yetsubjugated by the Spaniards. One day, it was when we had ruled for somefourteen years in the City of Pines, it came to my knowledge that thepabasof this clan had captured a Christian priest, and designed tooffer him to the god Tezcat.

Attended by a small guard only, I passed rapidly across the mountains,purposing to visit the caciqueof this clan with whom, although he hadcast off his allegiance to us, I still kept up a show of friendship, and if Icould, to persuade him to release the priest. But swiftly as I travelled thevengeance of the pabashad been more swift, and I arrived at the villageonly to find the “Christian Devil” in the act of being led tosacrifice before the image of a hideous idol that was set upon a stake andsurrounded with piles of skulls. Naked to the waist, his hands bound behindhim, his grizzled locks hanging about his breast, his keen eyes fixed upon thefaces of his heathen foes in menace rather than in supplication, his thin lipsmuttering prayers, Father Pedro passed on to the place of his doom, now andagain shaking his head fiercely to free himself from the torment of the insectswhich buzzed about it.

I looked upon him and wondered. I looked again and knew. Suddenly there rosebefore my mind a vision of that gloomy vault in Seville, of a woman, young andlovely, draped in cerements, and of a thin-faced black-robed friar who smoteher upon the lips with his ivory crucifix and cursed her for a blasphemingheretic. There before me was the man. Isabella de Siguenza had prayed that afate like to her own fate should befall him, and it was upon him now. Norindeed, remembering all that had been, was I minded to avert it, even if it hadbeen in my power to do so. I stood by and let the victim pass, but as he passedI spoke to him in Spanish, saying:

“Remember that which it may well be you have forgotten, holy father,remember now the dying prayer of Isabella de Siguenza whom many years ago youdid to death in Seville.”

The man heard me; he turned livid beneath his bronzed skin and staggered untilI thought that he would have fallen. He stared upon me, with terror in his eye,to see as he believed a common sight enough, that of an Indian chief rejoicingat the death of one of his oppressors.

“What devil are you,” he said hoarsely, “sent from hell totorment me at the last?”

“Remember the dying prayer of Isabella de Siguenza, whom you struck andcursed,” I answered mocking. “Seek not to know whence I am, butremember this only, now and for ever.”

For a moment he stood still, heedless of the urgings of his tormentors. Thenhis courage came to him again, and he cried with a great voice: “Get theebehind me, Satan, what have I to fear from thee? I remember that dead sinnerwell—may her soul have peace—and her curse has fallen upon me. Irejoice that it should be so, for on the further side of yonder stone the gatesof heaven open to my sight. Get thee behind me, Satan, what have I to fear fromthee?”

Crying thus he staggered forward saying, “O God, into Thy hand I commendmy spirit!” May his soul have peace also, for if he was cruel, at leasthe was brave, and did not shrink beneath those torments which he had inflictedon many others.

Now this was a little matter, but its results were large. Had I saved FatherPedro from the hands of the pabasof the Otomie, it is likely enoughthat I should not to-day be writing this history here in the valley of theWaveney. I do not know if I could have saved him, I only know that I did nottry, and that because of his death great sorrows came upon me. Whether I wasright or wrong, who can say? Those who judge my story may think that in this asin other matters I was wrong; had they seen Isabella de Siguenza die within herliving tomb, certainly they would hold that I was right. But for good or ill,matters came about as I have written.

And it came about also, that the new viceroy sent from Spain was stirred toanger at the murder of the friar by the rebellious and heathen people of theOtomie, and set himself to take vengeance on the tribe that wrought the deed.

Soon tidings reached me that a great force of Tlascalan and other Indians werebeing collected to put an end to us, root and branch, and that with themmarched more than a hundred Spaniards, the expedition being under the commandof none other than the Captain Bernal Diaz, that same soldier whom I had sparedin the slaughter of the noche triste, and whose sword to this day hungat my side.

Now we must needs prepare our defence, for our only hope lay in boldness. Oncebefore the Spaniards had attacked us with thousands of their allies, and oftheir number but few had lived to look again on the camp of Cortes. What hadbeen done could be done a second time—so said Otomie in the pride of herunconquerable heart. But alas! in fourteen years things had changed much withus. Fourteen years ago we held sway over a great district of mountains, whoserude clans would send up their warriors in hundreds at our call. Now theseclans had broken from our yoke, which was acknowledged by the people of theCity of Pines alone and those of some adjacent villages. When the Spaniardscame down on me the first time, I was able to muster an army of ten thousandsoldiers to oppose them, now with much toil I could collect no more thanbetween two and three thousand men, and of these some slipped away as the hourof danger drew nigh.

Still I must put a bold face on my necessities, and make what play I might withsuch forces as lay at my command, although in my heart I feared much for theissue. But of my fears I said nothing to Otomie, and if she felt any she, onher part, buried them in her breast. In truth I do believe her faith in me wasso great, that she thought my single wit enough to over-match all the armies ofthe Spaniards.

Now at length the enemy drew near, and I set my battle as I had done fourteenyears before, advancing down the pass by which alone they could approach uswith a small portion of my force, and stationing the remainder in two equalcompanies upon either brow of the beetling cliffs that overhung the road,having command to overwhelm the Spaniards with rocks, hurled upon them fromabove, so soon as I should give the signal by flying before them down the pass.Other measures I took also, for seeing that do what I would it well mighthappen that we should be driven back upon the city, I caused its walls andgates to be set in order, and garrisoned them. As a last resource too, I storedthe lofty summit of the teocalli, which now that sacrifices were nolonger offered there was used as an arsenal for the material of war, with waterand provisions, and fortified its sides by walls studded with volcanic glassand by other devices, till it seemed well nigh impossible that any should beable to force them while a score of men still lived to offer a defence.

It was on one night in the early summer, having bid farewell to Otomie andtaking my son with me, for he was now of an age when, according to the Indiancustoms, lads are brought face to face with the dangers of battle, that Idespatched the appointed companies to their stations on the brow of theprecipice, and sallied into the darksome mouth of the pass with the few hundredmen who were left to me. I knew by my spies that the Spaniards who wereencamped on the further side would attempt its passage an hour before thedaylight, trusting to finding me asleep. And sure enough, on the followingmorning, so early that the first rays of the sun had not yet stained the loftysnows of the volcan Xaca that towered behind us, a distant murmuring whichechoed through the silence of the night told me that the enemy had begun hismarch. I moved down the pass to meet him easily enough; there was no stone init that was not known to me and my men. But with the Spaniards it wasotherwise, for many of them were mounted, and moreover they dragged with themtwo carronades. Time upon time these heavy guns remained fast in theboulder-strewn roadway, for in the darkness the slaves who drew them could findno places for the wheels to run on, till in the end the captains of the army,unwilling to risk a fight at so great a disadvantage, ordered them to haltuntil the day broke.

At length the dawn came, and the light fell dimly down the depths of the vastgulf, revealing the long ranks of the Spaniards clad in their bright armour,and the yet more brilliant thousands of their native allies, gorgeous in theirpainted helms and their glittering coats of feathers. They saw us also, andmocking at our poor array, their column twisted forward like some huge snake inthe crack of a rock, till they came to within a hundred paces of us. Then theSpaniards raised their battle cry of Saint Peter, and lance at rest, theycharged us with their horse. We met them with a rain of arrows that checkedthem a little, but not for long. Soon they were among us, driving us back atthe point of their lances, and slaying many, for our Indian weapons could worklittle harm to men and horses clad in armour. Therefore we must fly, andindeed, flight was my plan, for by it I hoped to lead the foe to that part ofthe defile where the road was narrow and the cliffs sheer, and they might becrushed by the stones which should hail on them from above. All went well; wefled, the Spaniards followed flushed with victory, till they were fairly in thetrap. Now a single boulder came rushing from on high, and falling on a horse,killed him, then rebounding, carried dismay and wounds to those behind. Anotherfollowed, and yet another, and I grew glad at heart, for it seemed to me thatthe danger was over, and that for the second time my strategy had succeeded.

But suddenly from above there came a sound other than that of the rushingrocks, the sound of men joining in battle, that grew and grew till the air wasfull of its tumult, then something whirled down from on high. I looked; it wasno stone, but a man, one of my own men. Indeed he was but as the firstrain-drop of a shower.

Alas! I saw the truth; I had been outwitted. The Spaniards, old in war, couldnot be caught twice by such a trick; they advanced down the pass with thecarronades indeed because they must, but first they sent great bodies of men toclimb the mountain under shelter of the night, by secret paths which had beendiscovered to them, and there on its summit to deal with those who would staytheir passage by hurling rocks upon them. And in truth they dealt with them buttoo well, for my men of the Otomie, lying on the verge of the cliff among thescrub of aloes and other prickly plants that grew there, watching the advanceof the foe beneath, and never for one moment dreaming that foes might be upontheir flank, were utterly surprised. Scarcely had they time to seize theirweapons, which were laid at their sides that they might have the greaterfreedom in the rolling of heavy masses of rock, when the enemy, who outnumberedthem by far, were upon them with a yell. Then came a fight, short but decisive.

Too late I saw it all, and cursed the folly that had not provided against suchchances, for, indeed, I never thought it possible that the forces of theSpaniards could find the secret trails upon the further side of the mountain,forgetting that treason makes most things possible.

CHAPTER XXXIV
THE SIEGE OF THE CITY OF PINES

The battle was already lost. From a thousand feet above us swelled the shoutsof victory. The battle was lost, and yet I must fight on. As swiftly as I couldI withdrew those who were left to me to a certain angle in the path, where ascore of desperate men might, for a while, hold back the advance of an army.Here I called for some to stand at my side, and many answered to my call. Outof them I chose fifty men or more, bidding the rest run hard for the City ofPines, there to warn those who were left in garrison that the hour of dangerwas upon them, and, should I fall, to conjure Otomie my wife to make the bestresistance in her power, till, if it were possible, she could wring from theSpaniards a promise of safety for herself, her child, and her people. MeanwhileI would hold the pass so that time might be given to shut the gates and man thewalls. With the main body of those who were left to me I sent back my son,though he prayed hard to be allowed to stay with me. But, seeing nothing beforeme except death, I refused him.

Presently all were gone, and fearing a snare the Spaniards came slowly andcautiously round the angle of the rock, and seeing so few men mustered to meetthem halted, for now they were certain that we had set a trap for them, sincethey did not think it possible that such a little band would venture to opposetheir array. Here the ground lay so that only a few of them could come againstus at one time, nor could they bring their heavy pieces to bear on us, and eventheir arquebusses helped them but little. Also the roughness of the road forcedthem to dismount from their horses, so that if they would attack at all, itmust be on foot. This in the end they chose to do. Many fell upon either side,though I myself received no wound, but in the end they drove us back. Inch byinch they drove us back, or rather those who were left of us, at the point oftheir long lances, till at length they forced us into the mouth of the pass,that is some five furlongs distant from what was once the wall of the City ofPines.

To fight further was of no avail, here we must choose between death and flight,and as may be guessed, for wives’ and children’s sake if not forour own, we chose to fly. Across the plain we fled like deer, and after us camethe Spaniards and their allies like hounds. Happily the ground was rough withstones so that their horses could not gallop freely, and thus it happened thatsome of us, perhaps twenty, gained the gates in safety. Of my army not morethan five hundred in all lived to enter them again, and perchance there were asmany left within the city.

The heavy gates swung to, and scarcely were they barred with the massive beamsof oak, when the foremost of the Spaniards rode up to them. My bow was still inmy hand and there was one arrow left in my quiver. I set it on the string, anddrawing the bow with my full strength, I loosed the shaft through the bars ofthe gate at a young and gallant looking cavalier who rode the first of all. Itstruck him truly between the joint of his helm and neck piece, and stretchinghis arms out wide he fell backward over the crupper of his horse, to move nomore. Then they withdrew, but presently one of their number came forwardbearing a flag of truce. He was a knightly looking man, clad in rich armour,and watching him, it seemed to me that there was something in his bearing, andin the careless grace with which he sat his horse, that was familiar to me.Reining up in front of the gates he raised his visor and began to speak.

I knew him at once; before me was de Garcia, my ancient enemy, of whom I hadneither heard nor seen anything for hard upon twelve years. Time had touchedhim indeed, which was scarcely to be wondered at, for now he was a man of sixtyor more. His peaked chestnut-coloured beard was streaked with grey, his cheekswere hollow, and at that distance his lips seemed like two thin red lines, butthe eyes were as they had always been, bright and piercing, and the same coldsmile played about his mouth. Without a doubt it was de Garcia, who now, as atevery crisis of my life, appeared to shape my fortunes to some evil end, and Ifelt as I looked upon him that the last and greatest struggle between us was athand, and that before many days were sped, the ancient and accumulated hate ofone or of both of us would be buried for ever in the silence of death. How illhad fate dealt with me, now as always. But a few minutes before, when I setthat arrow on the string, I had wavered for a moment, doubting whether to looseit at the young cavalier who lay dead, or at the knight who rode next to him;and see! I had slain one with whom I had no quarrel and left my enemy unharmed.

“Ho there!” cried de Garcia in Spanish. “I desire to speakwith the leader of the rebel Otomie on behalf of the Captain Bernal Diaz, whocommands this army.”

Now I mounted on the wall by means of a ladder which was at hand, and answered,“Speak on, I am the man you seek.”

“You know Spanish well, friend,” said de Garcia, starting andlooking at me keenly beneath his bent brows. “Say now, where did youlearn it? And what is your name and lineage?”

“I learned it, Juan de Garcia, from a certain Donna Luisa, whom you knewin your days of youth. And my name is Thomas Wingfield.”

Now de Garcia reeled in his saddle and swore a great oath.

“Mother of God!” he said, “years ago I was told that you hadtaken up your abode among some savage tribe, but since then I have been far, toSpain and back indeed, and I deemed that you were dead, Thomas Wingfield. Myluck is good in truth, for it has been one of the great sorrows of my life thatyou have so often escaped me, renegade. Be sure that this time there shall beno escape.”

“I know well that there will be no escape for one or other of us, Juan deGarcia,” I answered. “Now we play the last round of the game, butdo not boast, for God alone knows to whom the victory shall be given. You haveprospered long, but a day may be at hand when your prosperity shall cease withyour breath. To your errand, Juan de Garcia.”

For a moment he sat silent, pulling at his pointed beard, and watching him Ithought that I could see the shadow of a half-forgotten fear creep into hiseyes. If so, it was soon gone, for lifting his head, he spoke boldly andclearly.

“This is my message to you, Thomas Wingfield, and to such of the Otomiedogs with whom you herd as we have left alive to-day. The Captain Bernal Diazoffers you terms on behalf of his Excellency the viceroy.”

“What are his terms?” I asked.

“Merciful enough to such pestilent rebels and heathens,” heanswered sneering. “Surrender your city without condition, and theviceroy, in his clemency, will accept the surrender. Nevertheless, lest youshould say afterwards that faith has been broken with you, be it known to you,that you shall not go unpunished for your many crimes. This is the punishmentthat shall be inflicted on you. All those who had part or parcel in thedevilish murder of that holy saint Father Pedro, shall be burned at the stake,and the eyes of all those who beheld it shall be put out. Such of the leadersof the Otomie as the judges may select shall be hanged publicly, among themyourself, Cousin Wingfield, and more particularly the woman Otomie, daughter ofMontezuma the late king. For the rest, the dwellers in the City of Pines mustsurrender their wealth into the treasury of the viceroy, and they themselves,men, women and children, shall be led from the city and be distributedaccording to the viceroy’s pleasure upon the estates of such of theSpanish settlers as he may select, there to learn the useful arts of husbandryand mining. These are the conditions of surrender, and I am commanded to saythat an hour is given you in which to decide whether you accept or rejectthem.”

“And if we reject them?”

“Then the Captain Bernal Diaz has orders to sack and destroy this city,and having given it over for twelve hours to the mercy of the Tlascalans andother faithful Indian allies, to collect those who may be left living withinit, and bring them to the city of Mexico, there to be sold as slaves.”

“Good,” I said; “you shall have your answer in anhour.” Now, leaving the gate guarded, I hurried to the palace, sendingmessengers as I went to summon such of the council of the city as remainedalive. At the door of the palace I met Otomie, who greeted me fondly, for afterhearing of our disaster she had hardly looked to see me again.

“Come with me to the Hall of Assembly,” I said; “there I willspeak to you.”

We went to the hall, where the members of the council were already gathering.So soon as the most of them were assembled, there were but eight in all, Irepeated to them the words of de Garcia without comment. Then Otomie spoke, asbeing the first in rank she had a right to do. Twice before I had heard heraddress the people of the Otomie upon these questions of defence against theSpaniards. The first time, it may be remembered, was when we came as envoysfrom Cuitlahua, Montezuma her father’s successor, to pray the aid of thechildren of the mountain against Cortes and the Teules. The second time waswhen, some fourteen years ago, we had returned to the City of Pines asfugitives after the fall of Tenoctitlan, and the populace, moved to fury by thedestruction of nearly twenty thousand of their soldiers, would have deliveredus as a peace offering into the hands of the Spaniards.

On each of these occasions Otomie had triumphed by her eloquence, by thegreatness of her name and the majesty of her presence. Now things were farotherwise, and even had she not scorned to use them, such arts would haveavailed us nothing in this extremity. Now her great name was but a shadow, oneof many waning shadows cast by an empire whose glory had gone for ever; now sheused no passionate appeal to the pride and traditions of a doomed race, now shewas no longer young and the first splendour of her womanhood had departed fromher. And yet, as with her son and mine at her side, she rose to address thoseseven councillors, who, haggard with fear and hopeless in the grasp of fate,crouched in silence before her, their faces buried in their hands, I thoughtthat Otomie had never seemed more beautiful, and that her words, simple as theywere, had never been more eloquent.

“Friends,” she said, “you know the disaster that hasovertaken us. My husband has given you the message of the Teules. Our case isdesperate. We have but a thousand men at most to defend this city, the home ofour forefathers, and we alone of all the peoples of Anahuac still dare to standin arms against the white men. Years ago I said to you, Choose between deathwith honour and life with shame! To-day again I say to you, Choose! For me andmine there is no choice left, since whatever you decide, death must be ourportion. But with you it is otherwise. Will you die fighting, or will you andyour children serve your remaining years as slaves?”

For a while the seven consulted together, then their spokesman answered.

“Otomie, and you, Teule, we have followed your counsels for many yearsand they have brought us but little luck. We do not blame you, for the gods ofAnahuac have deserted us as we have deserted them, and the gods alone standbetween men and their evil destiny. Whatever misfortunes we may have borne, youhave shared in them, and so it is now at the end. Nor will we go back upon ourwords in this the last hour of the people of the Otomie. We have chosen; wehave lived free with you, and still free, we will die with you. For like you wehold that it is better for us and ours to perish as free men than to drag outour days beneath the yoke of the Teule.”

“It is well,” said Otomie; “now nothing remains for us exceptto seek a death so glorious that it shall be sung of in after days. Husband,you have heard the answer of the council. Let the Spaniards hear italso.”

So I went back to the wall, a white flag in my hand, and presently an envoyadvanced from the Spanish camp to speak with me—not de Garcia, butanother. I told him in few words that those who remained alive of the people ofthe Otomie would die beneath the ruins of their city like the children ofTenoctitlan before them, but that while they had a spear to throw and an arm tothrow it, they would never yield to the tender mercies of the Spaniard.

The envoy returned to the camp, and within an hour the attack began. Bringingup their pieces of ordnance, the Spaniards set them within little more than anhundred paces of the gates, and began to batter us with iron shot at theirleisure, for our spears and arrows could scarcely harm them at such a distance.Still we were not idle, for seeing that the wooden gates must soon be down, wedemolished houses on either side of them and filled up the roadway with stonesand rubbish. At the rear of the heap thus formed I caused a great trench to bedug, which could not be passed by horsemen and ordnance till it was filled inagain. All along the main street leading to the great square of theteocalliI threw up other barricades, protected in the front and rear bydykes cut through the roadway, and in case the Spaniards should try to turn ourflank and force a passage through the narrow and tortuous lanes to the rightand left, I also barricaded the four entrances to the great square or marketplace.

Till nightfall the Spaniards bombarded the shattered remains of the gates andthe earthworks behind them, doing no great damage beyond the killing of about ascore of people by cannon shot and arquebuss balls. But they attempted noassault that day. At length the darkness fell and their fire ceased, but not soour labours. Most of the men must guard the gates and the weak spots in thewalls, and therefore the building of the barricades was left chiefly to thewomen, working under my command and that of my captains. Otomie herself took ashare in the toil, an example that was followed by every lady and indeed byevery woman in the city, and there were many of them, for the women outnumberedthe men among the Otomie, and moreover not a few of them had been made widowson that same day.

It was a strange sight to see them in the glare of hundreds of torches splitfrom the resin pine that gave its name to the city, as all night long theymoved to and fro in lines, each of them staggering beneath the weight of abasket of earth or a heavy stone, or dug with wooden spades at the hard soil,or laboured at the pulling down of houses. They never complained, but worked onsullenly and despairingly; no groan or tear broke from them, no, not even fromthose whose husbands and sons had been hurled that morning from the precipicesof the pass. They knew that resistance would be useless and that their doom wasat hand, but no cry arose among them of surrender to the Spaniards. Those ofthem who spoke of the matter at all said with Otomie, that it was better to diefree than to live as slaves, but the most did not speak; the old and the young,mother, wife, widow, and maid, they laboured in silence and the childrenlaboured at their sides.

Looking at them it came into my mind that these silent patient women wereinspired by some common and desperate purpose, that all knew of, but which noneof them chose to tell.

“Will you work so hard for your masters the Teules?” cried a man inbitter mockery, as a file of them toiled past beneath their loads of stone.

“Fool!” answered their leader, a young and lovely lady of rank;“do the dead labour?”

“Nay,” said this ill jester, “but such as you are too fairfor the Teules to kill, and your years of slavery will be many. Say, how shallyou escape them?”

“Fool!” answered the lady again, “does fire die from lack offuel only, and must every man live till age takes him? We shall escape themthus,” and casting down the torch she carried, she trod it into the earthwith her sandal, and went on with her load. Then I was sure that they had somepurpose, though I did not guess how desperate it was, and Otomie would tell menothing of this woman’s secret.

“Otomie,” I said to her that night, when we met by chance, “Ihave ill news for you.”

“It must be bad indeed, husband, to be so named in such an hour,”she answered.

“De Garcia is among our foes.”

“I knew it, husband.”

“How did you know it?”

“By the hate written in your eyes,” she answered.

“It seems that his hour of triumph is at hand,” I said.

“Nay, beloved, not hisbut yours. You shall triumph over deGarcia, but victory will cost you dear. I know it in my heart; ask me not howor why. See, the Queen puts on her crown,” and she pointed to the volcanXaca, whose snows grew rosy with the dawn, “and you must go to the gate,for the Spaniards will soon be stirring.”

As Otomie spoke I heard a trumpet blare without the walls. Hurrying to thegates by the first light of day, I could see that the Spaniards were musteringtheir forces for attack. They did not come at once, however, but delayed tillthe sun was well up. Then they began to pour a furious fire upon our defences,that reduced the shattered beams of the gates to powder, and even shook downthe crest of the earthwork beyond them. Suddenly the firing ceased and again atrumpet called. Now they charged us in column, a thousand or more Tlascalansleading the van, followed by the Spanish force. In two minutes I, who awaitedthem beyond it together with some three hundred warriors of the Otomie, sawtheir heads appear over the crest of the earthwork, and the fight began. Thricewe drove them back with our spears and arrows, but at the fourth charge thewave of men swept over our defence, and poured into the dry ditch beyond.

Now we were forced to fly to the next earthwork, for we could not hope to fightso many in the open street, whither, so soon as a passage had been made fortheir horse and ordnance, the enemy followed us. Here the fight was renewed,and this barricade being very strong, we held it for hard upon two hours withmuch loss to ourselves and to the Spanish force. Again we retreated and againwe were assailed, and so the struggle went on throughout the live-long day.Every hour our numbers grew fewer and our arms fainter, but still we fought ondesperately. At the two last barricades, hundreds of the women of the Otomiefought by the sides of their husbands and their brothers.

The last earthwork was captured by the Spaniards just as the sun sank, andunder the shadow of approaching darkness those of us that remained alive fledto the refuge which we had prepared upon the teocalli, nor was there anyfurther fighting during that night.

CHAPTER XXXV
THE LAST SACRIFICE OF THE WOMEN OF THE OTOMIE

Here in the courtyard of the teocalli, by the light of burning houses,for as they advanced the Spaniards fired the town, we mustered our array tofind that there were left to us in all some four hundred fighting men, togetherwith a crowd of nearly two thousand women and many children. Now although thisteocalliwas not quite so lofty as that of the great temple of Mexico,its sides were steeper and everywhere faced with dressed stone, and the openspace upon its summit was almost as great, measuring indeed more than a hundredpaces every way. This area was paved with blocks of marble, and in its centrestood the temple of the war-god, where his statue still sat, although noworship had been offered to him for many years; the stone of sacrifice, thealtar of fire, and the storehouses of the priests. Moreover in front of thetemple, and between it and the stone of sacrifice, was a deep cemented hole thesize of a large room, which once had been used as a place for the safe keepingof grain in times of famine. This pit I had caused to be filled with waterborne with great toil to the top of the pyramid, and in the temple itself Istored a great quantity of food, so that we had no cause to fear present deathfrom thirst or famine.

But now we were face to face with a new trouble. Large as was the summit of thepyramid, it would not give shelter to a half of our numbers, and if we desiredto defend it some of the multitude herded round its base must seek refugeelsewhere. Calling the leaders of the people together, I put the matter beforethem in few words, leaving them to decide what must be done. They in turnconsulted among themselves, and at length gave me this answer: that it wasagreed that all the wounded and aged there, together with most of the children,and with them any others who wished to go, should leave the teocallithat night, to find their way out of the city if they could, or if not, totrust to the mercy of the Spaniards.

I said that it was well, for death was on every side, and it mattered littlewhich way men turned to meet it. So they were sorted out, fifteen hundred ormore of them, and at midnight the gates of the courtyard were thrown open, andthey left. Oh! it was dreadful to see the farewells that took place in thathour. Here a daughter clung to the neck of her aged father, here husbands andwives bade each other a last farewell, here mothers kissed their littlechildren, and on every side rose up the sounds of bitter agony, the agony ofthose who parted for ever. I buried my face in my hands, wondering as I hadoften wondered before, how a God whose name is Mercy can bear to look uponsights that break the hearts of sinful men to witness.

Presently I raised my eyes and spoke to Otomie, who was at my side, asking herif she would not send our son away with the others, passing him off as thechild of common people.

“Nay, husband,” she answered, “it is better for him to diewith us, than to live as a slave of the Spaniards.”

At length it was over and the gates had shut behind the last of them. Soon weheard the distant challenge of the Spanish sentries as they perceived them, andthe sounds of some shots followed by cries.

“Doubtless the Tlascalans are massacring them,” I said. But it wasnot so. When a few had been killed the leaders of the Spaniards found that theywaged war upon an unarmed mob, made up for the most part of aged people, womenand children, and their commander, Bernal Diaz, a merciful man if a rough one,ordered that the onslaught should cease. Indeed he did more, for when all theable-bodied men, together with such children as were sufficiently strong tobear the fatigues of travel, had been sorted out to be sold as slaves, hesuffered the rest of that melancholy company to depart whither they would. Andso they went, though what became of them I do not know.

That night we spent in the courtyard of the teocalli, but before it waslight I caused the women and children who remained with us, perhaps some sixhundred in all, for very few of the former who were unmarried, or who beingmarried were still young and comely, had chosen to desert our refuge, to ascendthe pyramid, guessing that the Spaniards would attack us at dawn. I stayed,however, with the three hundred fighting men that were left to me, a hundred ormore having thrown themselves upon the mercy of the Spaniards, with therefugees, to await the Spanish onset under shelter of the walls of thecourtyard. At dawn it began, and by midday, do what we could to stay it, thewall was stormed, and leaving nearly a hundred dead and wounded behind me, Iwas driven to the winding way that led to the summit of the pyramid. Here theyassaulted us again, but the road was steep and narrow, and their numbers gavethem no great advantage on it, so that the end of it was that we beat them backwith loss, and there was no more fighting that day.

The night which followed we spent upon the summit of the pyramid, and for mypart I was so weary that after I had eaten I never slept more soundly. Nextmorning the struggle began anew; and this time with better success to theSpaniards. Inch by inch under cover of the heavy fire from their arquebussesand pieces, they forced us upward and backward. All day long the fightcontinued upon the narrow road that wound from stage to stage of the pyramid.At length, as the sun sank, a company of our foes, their advance guard, withshouts of victory, emerged upon the flat summit, and rushed towards the templein its centre. All this while the women had been watching, but now one of themsprang up, crying with a loud voice:

“Seize them; they are but few.”

Then with a fearful scream of rage, the mob of women cast themselves upon theweary Spaniards and Tlascalans, bearing them down by the weight of theirnumbers. Many of them were slain indeed, but in the end the women conquered,ay, and made their victims captive, fastening them with cords to the rings ofcopper that were let into the stones of the pavement, to which in former daysthose doomed to sacrifice had been secured, when their numbers were so greatthat the priests feared lest they should escape. I and the soldiers with mewatched this sight wondering, then I cried out:

“What! men of the Otomie, shall it be said that our women outdid us incourage?” and without further ado, followed by a hundred or more of mycompanions, I rushed desperately down the steep and narrow path.

At the first corner we met the main array of Spaniards and their allies, comingup slowly, for now they were sure of victory, and so great was the shock of ourencounter that many of them were hurled over the edge of the path, to roll downthe steep sides of the pyramid. Seeing the fate of their comrades, those behindthem halted, then began to retreat. Presently the weight of our rush struckthem also, and they in turn pushed upon those below, till at length panicseized them, and with a great crying the long line of men that wound round andround the pyramid from its base almost to its summit, sought their safety inflight. But some of them found none, for the rush of those above pressing withever increasing force upon their friends below, drove many to their death,since here on the pyramid there was nothing to cling to, and if once a man losthis foothold on the path, his fall was broken only when his body reached thecourt beneath. Thus in fifteen short minutes all that the Spaniards had wonthis day was lost again, for except the prisoners at its summit, none of themremained alive upon the teocalli; indeed so great a terror took them,that bearing with them their dead and wounded, they retreated under cover ofthe night to their camp without the walls of the courtyard.

Now, weary but triumphant, we wended back towards the crest of the pyramid, butas I turned the corner of the second angle that was perhaps nearly one hundredfeet above the level of the ground, a thought struck me and I set those with meat a task. Loosening the blocks of stone that formed the edge of the roadway,we rolled them down the sides of the pyramid, and so laboured on removing layerupon layer of stones and of the earth beneath, till where the path had been,was nothing but a yawning gap thirty feet or more in width.

“Now,” I said, surveying our handiwork by the light of the risingmoon, “that Spaniard who would win our nest must find wings to flywith.”

“Ay, Teule,” answered one at my side, “but say what wingsshall wefind?”

“The wings of Death,” I said grimly, and went on my upward way.

It was near midnight when I reached the temple, for the labour of levelling theroad took many hours and food had been sent to us from above. As I drew nigh Iwas amazed to hear the sound of solemn chanting, and still more was I amazedwhen I saw that the doors of the temple of Huitzel were open, and that thesacred fire which had not shone there for many years once more flared fiercelyupon his altar. I stood still listening. Did my ears trick me, or did I hearthe dreadful song of sacrifice? Nay, again its wild refrain rang out upon thesilence:

To Thee we sacrifice!
Save us, O Huitzel,
Huitzel, lord god!

I rushed forward, and turning the angle of the temple I found myself face toface with the past, for there as in bygone years were the pabasclad intheir black robes, their long hair hanging about their shoulders, the dreadfulknife of glass fixed in their girdles; there to the right of the stone ofsacrifice were those destined to the god, and there being led towards it wasthe first victim, a Tlascalan prisoner, his limbs held by men clad in the dressof priests. Near him, arrayed in the scarlet robe of sacrifice, stood one of myown captains, who I remembered had once served as a priest of Tezcat beforeidolatry was forbidden in the City of Pines, and around were a wide circle ofwomen that watched, and from whose lips swelled the awful chant.

Now I understood it all. In their last despair, maddened by the loss offathers, husbands, and children, by their cruel fate, and standing face to facewith certain death, the fire of the old faith had burnt up in their savagehearts. There was the temple, there were the stone and implements of sacrifice,and there to their hands were the victims taken in war. They would glut a lastrevenge, they would sacrifice to their fathers’ gods as their fathers haddone before them, and the victims should be taken from their own victoriousfoes. Ay, they must die, but at the least they would seek the Mansions of theSun made holy by the blood of the accursed Teule.

I have said that it was the women who sang this chant and glared so fiercelyupon the victims, but I have not yet told all the horror of what I saw, for inthe fore-front of their circle, clad in white robes, the necklet of greatemeralds, Guatemoc’s gift, flashing upon her breast, the plumes of royalgreen set in her hair, giving the time of the death chant with a little wand,stood Montezuma’s daughter, Otomie my wife. Never had I seen her look sobeautiful or so dreadful. It was not Otomie whom I saw, for where was thetender smile and where the gentle eyes? Here before me was a living Vengeancewearing the shape of woman. In an instant I guessed the truth, though I did notknow it all. Otomie, who although she was not of it, had ever favoured theChristian faith, Otomie, who for years had never spoken of these dreadful ritesexcept with anger, whose every act was love and whose every word was kindness,was still in her soul an idolater and a savage. She had hidden this side of herheart from me well through all these years, perchance she herself had scarcelyknown its secret, for but twice had I seen anything of the buried fierceness ofher blood. The first time was when Marina had brought her a certain robe inwhich she might escape from the camp of Cortes, and she had spoken to Marina ofthat robe; and the second when on this same day she had played her part to theTlascalan, and had struck him down with her own hand as he bent over me.

All this and much more passed through my mind in that brief moment, whileOtomie marked the time of the death chant, and the pabasdragged theTlascalan to his doom.

The next I was at her side.

“What passes here?” I asked sternly.

Otomie looked on me with a cold wonder, and empty eyes as though she did notknow me.

“Go back, white man,” she answered; “it is not lawful forstrangers to mingle in our rites.”

I stood bewildered, not knowing what to do, while the flame burned and thechant went up before the effigy of Huitzel, of the demon Huitzel awakened aftermany years of sleep.

Again and yet again the solemn chant arose, Otomie beating time with her littlerod of ebony, and again and yet again the cry of triumph rose to the silentstars.

Now I awoke from my dream, for as an evil dream it seemed to me, and drawing mysword I rushed towards the priest at the altar to cut him down. But though themen stood still the women were too quick for me. Before I could lift the sword,before I could even speak a word, they had sprung upon me like the jaguars oftheir own forests, and like jaguars they hissed and growled into my ear:

“Get you gone, Teule,” they said, “lest we stretch you on thestone with your brethren.” And still hissing they pushed me thence.

I drew back and thought for a while in the shadow of the temple. My eye fellupon the long line of victims awaiting their turn of sacrifice. There werethirty and one of them still alive, and of these five were Spaniards. I notedthat the Spaniards were chained the last of all the line. It seemed that themurderers would keep them till the end of the feast, indeed I discovered thatthey were to be offered up at the rising of the sun. How could I save them, Iwondered. My power was gone. The women could not be moved from their work ofvengeance; they were mad with their sufferings. As well might a man try tosnatch her prey from a puma robbed of her whelps, as to turn them from theirpurpose. With the men it was otherwise, however. Some of them mingled in theorgie indeed, but more stood aloof watching with a fearful joy the spectacle inwhich they did not share. Near me was a man, a noble of the Otomie, ofsomething more than my own age. He had always been my friend, and after me hecommanded the warriors of the tribe. I went to him and said, “Friend, forthe sake of the honour of your people, help me to end this.”

“I cannot, Teule,” he answered, “and beware how you meddle inthe play, for none will stand by you. Now the women have power, and you seethey use it. They are about to die, but before they die they will do as theirfathers did, for their strait is sore, and though they have been put aside, theold customs are not forgotten.”

“At the least can we not save these Teules?” I answered.

“Why should you wish to save the Teules? Will they save us some few dayshence, when weare in their power?”

“Perhaps not,” I said, “but if we must die, let us die cleanfrom this shame.”

“What then do you wish me to do, Teule?”

“This: I would have you find some three or four men who are not falleninto this madness, and with them aid me to loose the Teules, for we cannot savethe others. If this may be done, surely we can lower them with ropes from thatpoint where the road is broken away, down to the path beneath, and thus theymay escape to their own people.”

“I will try,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders, “not fromany tenderness towards the accursed Teules, whom I could well bear to seestretched upon the stone, but because it is your wish, and for the sake of thefriendship between us.”

Then he went, and presently I saw several men place themselves, as though bychance, between the spot where the last of the line of Indian prisoners, andthe first of the Spaniards were made fast, in such a fashion as to hide themfrom the sight of the maddened women, engrossed as they were in their orgies.

Now I crept up to the Spaniards. They were squatted upon the ground, bound bytheir hands and feet to the copper rings in the pavement. There they satsilently awaiting the dreadful doom, their faces grey with terror, and theireyes starting from their sockets.

“Hist!” I whispered in Spanish into the ear of the first, an oldman whom I knew as one who had taken part in the wars of Cortes. “Wouldyou be saved?”

He looked up quickly, and said in a hoarse voice:

“Who are you that talk of saving us? Who can save us from these shedevils?”

“I am Teule, a man of white blood and a Christian, and alas that I mustsay it, the captain of this savage people. With the aid of some few men who arefaithful to me, I purpose to cut your bonds, and afterwards you shall see.Know, Spaniard, that I do this at great risk, for if we are caught, it is achance but that I myself shall have to suffer those things from which I hope torescue you.”

“Be assured, Teule,” answered the Spaniard, “that if weshould get safe away, we shall not forget this service. Save our lives now, andthe time may come when we shall pay you back with yours. But even if we areloosed, how can we cross the open space in this moonlight and escape the eyesof those furies?”

“We must trust to chance for that,” I answered, and as I spoke,fortune helped us strangely, for by now the Spaniards in their camp below hadperceived what was going forward on the crest of the teocalli. A yell ofhorror rose from them and instantly they opened fire upon us with their piecesand arquebusses, though, because of the shape of the pyramid and of theirposition beneath it, the storm of shot swept over us, doing us little or nohurt. Also a great company of them poured across the courtyard, hoping to stormthe temple, for they did not know that the road had been broken away.

Now, though the rites of sacrifice never ceased, what with the roar of cannon,the shouts of rage and terror from the Spaniards, the hiss of musket balls, andthe crackling of flames from houses which they had fired to give them morelight, and the sound of chanting, the turmoil and confusion grew so great as torender the carrying out of my purpose easier than I had hoped. By this time myfriend, the captain of the Otomie, was at my side, and with him several menwhom he could trust. Stooping down, with a few swift blows of a knife I cut theropes which bound the Spaniards. Then we gathered ourselves into a knot, twelveof us or more, and in the centre of the knot we set the five Spaniards. Thisdone, I drew my sword and cried:

“The Teules storm the temple!” which was true, for already theirlong line was rushing up the winding path. “The Teules storm the temple,I go to stop them,” and straightway we sped across the open space.

None saw us, or if they saw us, none hindered us, for all the company wereintent upon the consummation of a fresh sacrifice; moreover, the tumult wassuch, as I afterwards discovered, that we were scarcely noticed. Two minutespassed, and our feet were set upon the winding way, and now I breathed again,for we were beyond the sight of the women. On we rushed swiftly as the crampedlimbs of the Spaniards would carry them, till presently we reached that anglein the path where the breach began. The attacking Spaniards had already come tothe further side of the gap, for though we could not see them, we could heartheir cries of rage and despair as they halted helplessly and understood thattheir comrades were beyond their aid.

“Now we are sped,” said the Spaniard with whom I had spoken;“the road is gone, and it must be certain death to try the side of thepyramid.”

“Not so,” I answered; “some fifty feet below the path stillruns, and one by one we will lower you to it with this rope.”

Then we set to work. Making the cord fast beneath the arms of a soldier we lethim down gently, till he came to the path, and was received there by hiscomrades as a man returned from the dead. The last to be lowered was thatSpaniard with whom I had spoken.

“Farewell,” he said, “and may the blessing of God be on youfor this act of mercy, renegade though you are. Say, now, will you not comewith me? I set my life and honour in pledge for your safety. You tell me thatyou are still a Christian man. Is that a place for Christians?” and hepointed upwards.

“No, indeed,” I answered, “but still I cannot come, for mywife and son are there, and I must return to die with them if need be. If youbear me any gratitude, strive in return to save their lives, since for my own Icare but little.”

“That I will,” he said, and then we let him down among his friends,whom he reached in safety.

Now we returned to the temple, giving it out that the Spaniards were inretreat, having failed to cross the breach in the roadway. Here before thetemple the orgie still went on. But two Indians remained alive; and the priestsof sacrifice grew weary.

“Where are the Teules?” cried a voice. “Swift! strip them forthe altar.”

But the Teules were gone, nor, search where they would, could they find them.

“Their God has taken them beneath His wing,” I said, speaking fromthe shadow and in a feigned voice. “Huitzel cannot prevail before the Godof the Teules.”

Then I slipped aside, so that none knew that it was I who had spoken, but thecry was caught up and echoed far and wide.

“The God of the Christians has hidden them beneath His wing. Let us makemerry with those whom He rejects,” said the cry, and the last of thecaptives were dragged away.

Now I thought that all was finished, but this was not so. I have spoken of thesecret purpose which I read in the sullen eyes of the Indian women as theylaboured at the barricades, and I was about to see its execution. Madness stillburned in the hearts of these women; they had accomplished their sacrifice, buttheir festival was still to come. They drew themselves away to the further sideof the pyramid, and, heedless of the shots which now and again pierced thebreast of one of them—for here they were exposed to the Spanishfire—remained a while in preparation. With them went the priests ofsacrifice, but now, as before, the rest of the men stood in sullen groups,watching what befell, but lifting no hand or voice to hinder its hellishness.

One woman did not go with them, and that woman was Otomie my wife.

She stood by the stone of sacrifice, a piteous sight to see, for her frenzy orrather her madness had outworn itself, and she was as she had ever been. Therestood Otomie, gazing with wide and horror-stricken eyes now at the tokens ofthis unholy rite and now at her own hands—as though she thought to seethem red, and shuddered at the thought. I drew near to her and touched her onthe shoulder. She turned swiftly, gasping,

“Husband! husband!”

“It is I,” I answered, “but call me husband no more.”

“Oh! what have I done?” she wailed, and fell senseless in my arms.

And here I will add what at the time I knew nothing of, for it was told me inafter years by the Rector of this parish, a very learned man, though one ofnarrow mind. Had I known it indeed, I should have spoken more kindly to Otomiemy wife even in that hour, and thought more gently of her wickedness. It seems,so said my friend the Rector, that from the most ancient times, those women whohave bent the knee to demon gods, such as were the gods of Anahuac, are subjectat any time to become possessed by them, even after they have abandoned theirworship, and to be driven in their frenzy to the working of the greatestcrimes. Thus, among other instances, he told me that a Greek poet namedTheocritus sets out in one of his idyls how a woman called Agave, being engagedin a secret religious orgie in honour of a demon named Dionysus, perceived herown son Pentheus watching the celebration of the mysteries, and thereonbecoming possessed by the demon she fell on him and murdered him, being aidedby the other women. For this the poet, who was also a worshipper of Dionysus,gave her great honour and not reproach, seeing that she did the deed at thebehest of this god, “a deed not to be blamed.”

Now I write of this for a reason, though it has nothing to do with me, for itseems that as Dionysus possessed Agave, driving her to unnatural murder, so didHuitzel possess Otomie, and indeed she said as much to me afterwards. For I amsure that if the devils whom the Greeks worshipped had such power, a stillgreater strength was given to those of Anahuac, who among all fiends were thefirst. If this be so, as I believe, it was not Otomie that I saw at the ritesof sacrifice, but rather the demon Huitzel whom she had once worshipped, andwho had power, therefore, to enter into her body for awhile in place of her ownspirit.

CHAPTER XXXVI
THE SURRENDER

Taking Otomie in my arms, I bore her to one of the storehouses attached to thetemple. Here many children had been placed for safety, among them my own son.

“What ails our mother, father?” said the boy. “And why didshe shut me in here with these children when it seems that there is fightingwithout?”

“Your mother has fainted,” I answered, “and doubtless sheplaced you here to keep you safe. Now do you tend her till I return.”

“I will do so,” answered the boy, “but surely it would bebetter that I, who am almost a man, should be without, fighting the Spaniardsat your side rather than within, nursing sick women.”

“Do as I bid you, son,” I said, “and I charge you not toleave this place until I come for you again.”

Now I passed out of the storehouse, shutting the door behind me. A minute laterI wished that I had stayed where I was, since on the platform my eyes weregreeted by a sight more dreadful than any that had gone before. For there,advancing towards us, were the women divided into four great companies, some ofthem bearing infants in their arms. They came singing and leaping, many of themnaked to the middle. Nor was this all, for in front of them ran thepabasand such of the women themselves as were persons in authority.These leaders, male and female, ran and leaped and sang, calling upon the namesof their demon-gods, and celebrating the wickednesses of their forefathers,while after them poured the howling troops of women.

To and fro they rushed, now making obeisance to the statue of Huitzel, nowprostrating themselves before his hideous sister, the goddess of Death, who satbeside him adorned with her carven necklace of men’s skulls and hands,now bowing around the stone of sacrifice, and now thrusting their bare armsinto the flames of the holy fire. For an hour or more they celebrated thisghastly carnival, of which even I, versed as I was in the Indian customs, couldnot fully understand the meaning, and then, as though some single impulse hadpossessed them, they withdrew to the centre of the open space, and, formingthemselves into a double circle, within which stood the pabas, of asudden they burst into a chant so wild and shrill that as I listened my bloodcurdled in my veins.

Even now the burden of that chant with the vision of those who sang itsometimes haunts my sleep at night, but I will not write it here. Let him whoreads imagine all that is most cruel in the heart of man, and every terror ofthe evillest dream, adding to these some horror-ridden tale of murder, ghosts,and inhuman vengeance; then, if he can, let him shape the whole in words and,as in a glass darkly, perchance he may mirror the spirit of that last ancientsong of the women of the Otomie, with its sobs, its cries of triumph, and itsdeath wailings.

Ever as they sang, step by step they drew backwards, and with them went theleaders of each company, their eyes fixed upon the statues of their gods. Nowthey were but a segment of a circle, for they did not advance towards thetemple; backward and outward they went with a slow and solemn tramp. There wasbut one line of them now, for those in the second ring filled the gaps in thefirst as it widened; still they drew on till at length they stood on the sheeredge of the platform. Then the priests and the women leaders took their placeamong them and for a moment there was silence, until at a signal one and allthey bent them backwards. Standing thus, their long hair waving on the wind,the light of burning houses flaring upon their breasts and in their maddenedeyes, they burst into the cry of:

“Save us, Huitzel! receive us, lord god, our home!”

Thrice they cried it, each time more shrilly than before, then suddenly theywere gone, the women of the Otomie were no more!

With their own self-slaughter they had consummated the last celebration of therites of sacrifice that ever shall be held in the City of Pines. The devil godswere dead and their worshippers with them.

A low murmur ran round the lips of the men who watched, then one cried, and hisvoice rang strangely in the sudden silence: “May our wives, the women ofthe Otomie, rest softly in the Houses of the Sun, for of a surety they teach ushow to die.”

“Ay,” I answered, “but not thus. Let women do self-murder,our foes have swords for the hearts of men.”

I turned to go, and before me stood Otomie.

“What has befallen?” she said. “Where are my sisters? Oh!surely I have dreamed an evil dream. I dreamed that the gods of my forefatherswere strong once more, and that once more they drank the blood of men.”

“Your ill dream has a worse awakening, Otomie,” I answered.“The gods of hell are still strong indeed in this accursed land, and theyhave taken your sisters into their keeping.”

“Is it so?” she said softly, “yet in my dream it seemed to methat this was their last strength ere they sink into death unending. Lookyonder!” and she pointed toward the snowy crest of the volcan Xaca.

I looked, but whether I saw the sight of which I am about to tell or whether itwas but an imagining born of the horrors of that most hideous night, in truth Icannot say. At the least I seemed to see this, and afterwards there were someamong the Spaniards who swore that they had witnessed it also.

On Xaca’s lofty summit, now as always stood a pillar of fiery smoke, andwhile I gazed, to my vision the smoke and the fire separated themselves. Out ofthe fire was fashioned a cross of flame, that shone like lightning andstretched for many a rod across the heavens, its base resting on the mountaintop. At its foot rolled the clouds of smoke, and now these too took forms vastand terrifying, such forms indeed as those that sat in stone within the templebehind me, but magnified a hundredfold.

“See,” said Otomie again, “the cross of your God shines abovethe shapes of mine, the lost gods whom to-night I worshipped though not of myown will.” Then she turned and went.

For some few moments I stood very much afraid, gazing upon the vision onXaca’s snow, then suddenly the rays of the rising sun smote it and it wasgone.

Now for three days more we held out against the Spaniards, for they could notcome at us and their shot swept over our heads harmlessly. During these days Ihad no talk with Otomie, for we shrank from one another. Hour by hour she wouldsit in the storehouse of the temple a very picture of desolation. Twice I triedto speak with her, my heart being moved to pity by the dumb torment in hereyes, but she turned her head from me and made no answer.

Soon it came to the knowledge of the Spaniards that we had enough food andwater upon the teocallito enable us to live there for a month or more,and seeing that there was no hope of capturing the place by force of arms, theycalled a parley with us.

I went down to the breach in the roadway and spoke with their envoy, who stoodupon the path below. At first the terms offered were that we should surrenderat discretion. To this I answered that sooner than do so we would die where wewere. Their reply was that if we would give over all who had any part in thehuman sacrifice, the rest of us might go free. To this I said that thesacrifice had been carried out by women and some few men, and that all of thesewere dead by their own hands. They asked if Otomie was also dead. I told themno, but that I would never surrender unless they swore that neither she nor herson should be harmed, but rather that together with myself they should be givena safe-conduct to go whither we willed. This was refused, but in the end I wonthe day, and a parchment was thrown up to me on the point of a lance. Thisparchment, which was signed by the Captain Bernal Diaz, set out that inconsideration of the part that I and some men of the Otomie had played inrescuing the Spanish captives from death by sacrifice, a pardon was granted tome, my wife and child, and all upon the teocalli, with liberty to gowhither-soever we would unharmed, our lands and wealth being however declaredforfeit to the viceroy.

With these terms I was well content, indeed I had never hoped to win any thatwould leave us our lives and liberty.

And yet for my part death had been almost as welcome, for now Otomie had builta wall between us that I could never climb, and I was bound to her, to a womanwho, willingly or no, had stained her hands with sacrifice. Well, my son wasleft to me and with him I must be satisfied; at the least he knew nothing ofhis mother’s shame. Oh! I thought to myself as I climbed theteocalli, oh! that I could but escape far from this accursed land andbear him with me to the English shores, ay, and Otomie also, for there shemight forget that once she had been a savage. Alas! it could scarcely be!

Coming to the temple, I and those with me told the good tidings to ourcompanions, who received it silently. Men of a white race would have rejoicedthus to escape, for when death is near all other loss seems as nothing. Butwith these Indian people it is not so, since when fortune frowns upon them theydo not cling to life. These men of the Otomie had lost their country, theirwives, their wealth, their brethren, and their homes; therefore life, withfreedom to wander whither they would, seemed no great thing to them. So theymet the boon that I had won from the mercy of our foes, as had matters goneotherwise they would have met the bane, in sullen silence.

I came to Otomie, and to her also I told the news.

“I had hoped to die here where I am,” she answered. “But sobe it; death is always to be found.”

Only my son rejoiced, because he knew that God had saved us all from death bysword or hunger.

“Father,” he said, “the Spaniards have given us life, butthey take our country and drive us out of it. Where then shall we go?”

“I do not know, my son,” I answered.

“Father,” the lad said again, “let us leave this land ofAnahuac where there is nothing but Spaniards and sorrow. Let us find a ship andsail across the seas to England, our own country.”

The boy spoke my very thought and my heart leapt at his words, though I had noplan to bring the matter about. I pondered a moment, looking at Otomie.

“The thought is good, Teule,” she said, answering my unspokenquestion; “for you and for our son there is no better, but for myself Iwill answer in the proverb of my people, ‘The earth that bears us lieslightest on our bones.’”

Then she turned, making ready to quit the storehouse of the temple where we hadbeen lodged during the siege, and no more was said about the matter.

Before the sun set a weary throng of men, with some few women and children,were marching across the courtyard that surrounded the pyramid, for a bridge oftimbers taken from the temple had been made over the breach in the roadway thatwound about its side.

At the gates the Spaniards were waiting to receive us. Some of them cursed us,some mocked, but those of the nobler sort said nothing, for they pitied ourplight and respected us for the courage we had shown in the last struggle.Their Indian allies were there also, and these grinned like unfed pumas,snarling and whimpering for our lives, till their masters kicked them tosilence. The last act of the fall of Anahuac was as the first had been, dogstill ate dog, leaving the goodly spoil to the lion who watched.

At the gates we were sorted out; the men of small condition, together with thechildren, were taken from the ruined city by an escort and turned loose uponthe mountains, while those of note were brought to the Spanish camp, to bequestioned there before they were set free. I, with my wife and son, was led tothe palace, our old home, there to learn the will of the Captain Diaz.

It is but a little way to go, and yet there was something to be seen in thepath. For as we walked I looked up, and before me, standing with folded armsand apart from all men, was de Garcia. I had scarcely thought of him for somedays, so full had my mind been of other matters, but at the sight of his evilface I remembered that while this man lived, sorrow and danger must be mybedfellows.

He watched us pass, taking note of all, then he called to me who walked last:

“Farewell, Cousin Wingfield. You have lived through this bout also andwon a free pardon, you, your woman and your brat together. If the old war-horsewho is set over us as a captain had listened to me you should have been burnedat the stake, every one of you, but so it is. Farewell for a while, friend. Iam away to Mexico to report these matters to the viceroy, who may have a wordto say.”

I made no answer, but asked of our conductor, that same Spaniard whom I hadsaved from the sacrifice, what the señor meant by his words.

“This, Teule; that there has been a quarrel between our comrade Sarcedaand our captain. The former would have granted you no terms, or failing thiswould have decoyed you from your stronghold with false promises, and then haveput you to the sword as infidels with whom no oath is binding. But the captainwould not have it so, for he said that faith must be kept even with theheathen, and we whom you had saved cried shame on him. And so words ran high,and in the end the Señor Sarceda, who is third in command among us, declaredthat he would be no party to this peacemaking, but would be gone to Mexico withhis servants, there to report to the viceroy. Then the Captain Diaz bade himbegone to hell if he wished and report to the devil, saying that he had alwaysbelieved that he had escaped thence by mistake, and they parted in wrath who,since the day of noche triste, never loved each other much; the end ofit being that Sarceda rides for Mexico within an hour, to make what mischief hecan at the viceroy’s court, and I think that you are well rid ofhim.”

“Father,” said my son to me, “who is that Spaniard who looksso cruelly upon us?”

“That is he of whom I have told you, son, de Garcia, who has been thecurse of our race for two generations, who betrayed your grandfather to theHoly Office, and murdered your grandmother, who put me to torture, and whoseill deeds are not done with yet. Beware of him, son, now and ever, I beseechyou.”

Now we were come to the palace, almost the only house that was left standing inthe City of Pines. Here an apartment was given to us at the end of the longbuilding, and presently a command was brought to us that I and my wife shouldwait upon the Spanish captain Diaz.

So we went, though Otomie desired to stay behind, leaving our son alone in thechamber where food had been brought to him. I remember that I kissed him beforeI left, though I do not know what moved me to do so, unless it was because Ithought that he might be asleep when I returned. The Captain Diaz had hisquarters at the other end of the palace, some two hundred paces away. Presentlywe stood before him. He was a rough-looking, thick-set man well on in years,with bright eyes and an ugly honest face, like the face of a peasant who hastoiled a lifetime in all weathers, only the fields that Diaz tilled were fieldsof war, and his harvest had been the lives of men. Just then he was joking withsome common soldiers in a strain scarcely suited to nice ears, but so soon ashe saw us he ceased and came forward. I saluted him after the Indian fashion bytouching the earth with my hand, for what was I but an Indian captive?

“Your sword,” he said briefly, as he scanned me with his quickeyes.

I unbuckled it from my side and handed it to him, saying in Spanish:

“Take it, Captain, for you have conquered, also it does but come back toits owner.” For this was the same sword that I had captured from oneBernal Diaz in the fray of the noche triste.

He looked at it, then swore a great oath and said:

“I thought that it could be no other man. And so we meet again thus afterso many years. Well, you gave me my life once, and I am glad that I have livedto pay the debt. Had I not been sure that it was you, you had not won such easyterms, friend. How are you named? Nay, I know what the Indians call you.”

“I am named Wingfield.”

“Friend Wingfield then. For I tell you that I would have sat beneathyonder devil’s house,” and he nodded towards the teocalli,“till you starved upon its top. Nay, friend Wingfield, take back thesword. I suited myself with another many years ago, and you have used this onegallantly; never have I seen Indians make a better fight. And so that isOtomie, Montezuma’s daughter and your wife, still handsome and royal, Isee. Lord! Lord! it is many years ago, and yet it seems but yesterday that Isaw her father die, a Christian-hearted man, though no Christian, and one whomwe dealt ill with. May God forgive us all! Well, Madam, none can say thatyouhave a Christian heart. If a certain tale that I have heard of whatpassed yonder, some three nights since, is true. But we will speak no more ofit, for the savage blood will show, and you are pardoned for yourhusband’s sake who saved my comrades from the sacrifice.”

To all this Otomie listened, standing still like a statue, but she neveranswered a word. Indeed she had spoken very rarely since that dreadful night ofher unspeakable shame.

“And now, friend Wingfield,” went on the Captain Diaz, “whatis your purpose? You are free to go where you will, whither then will yougo?”

“I do not know,” I answered. “Years ago, when the Aztecemperor gave me my life and this princess my wife in marriage, I swore to befaithful to him and his cause, and to fight for them till Popo ceased to vomitsmoke, till there was no king in Tenoctitlan, and the people of Anahuac were nomore a people.”

“Then you are quit of your oath, friend, for all these things have comeabout, and there has been no smoke on Popo for these two years. Now, if youwill be advised by me, you will turn Christian again and enter the service ofSpain. But come, let us to supper, we can talk of these mattersafterwards.”

So we sat down to eat by the light of torches in the banqueting hall withBernal Diaz and some other of the Spaniards. Otomie would have left us, andthough the captain bade her stay she ate nothing, and presently slipped awayfrom the chamber.

CHAPTER XXXVII
VENGEANCE

During that meal Bernal Diaz spoke of our first meeting on the causeway, and ofhow I had gone near to killing him in error, thinking that he was Sarceda, andthen he asked me what was my quarrel with Sarceda.

In as few words as possible I told him the story of my life, of all the evilthat de Garcia or Sarceda had worked upon me and mine, and of how it wasthrough him that I was in this land that day. He listened amazed.

“Holy Mother!” he said at length, “I always knew him for avillain, but that, if you do not lie, friend Wingfield, he could be such a manas this, I did not know. Now by my word, had I heard this tale an hour ago,Sarceda should not have left this camp till he had answered it or clearedhimself by combat with you. But I fear it is too late; he was to leave forMexico at the rising of the moon, to stir up mischief against me because Igranted you terms—not that I fear him there, where his repute issmall.”

“I do not lie indeed,” I answered. “Much of this tale I canprove if need be, and I tell you that I would give half the life that is leftto me to stand face to face in open fight with him again. Ever he has escapedme, and the score between us is long.”

Now as I spoke thus it seemed to me that a cold and dreadful air played upon myhands and brow and a warning sense of present evil crept into my soul,overcoming me so that I could not stir or speak for a while.

“Let us go and see if he has gone,” said Diaz presently, andsummoning a guard, he was about to leave the chamber. It was at this momentthat I chanced to look up and see a woman standing in the doorway. Her handrested on the doorpost; her head, from which the long hair streamed, was thrownback, and on her face was a look of such anguish that at first, so much was shechanged, I did not know her for Otomie. When I knew her, I knew all; one thingonly could conjure up the terror and agony that shone in her deep eyes.

“What has chanced to our son?” I asked.

“Dead, dead!” she answered in a whisper that seemed topierce my marrow.

I said nothing, for my heart told me what had happened, but Diaz asked,“Dead—why, what has killed him?”

“De Garcia! I saw him go,” replied Otomie; then she tossed her armshigh, and without another sound fell backwards to the earth.

In that moment I think that my heart broke—at least I know that nothinghas had the power to move me greatly since, though this memory moves me day byday and hour by hour, till I die and go to seek my son.

“Say, Bernal Diaz,” I cried, with a hoarse laugh, “did I lieto you concerning this comrade of yours?”

Then, springing over Otomie’s body I left the chamber, followed by BernalDiaz and the others.

Without the door I turned to the left towards the camp. I had not gone ahundred paces when, in the moonlight, I saw a small troop of horsemen ridingtowards us. It was de Garcia and his servants, and they headed towards themountain pass on their road to Mexico. I was not too late.

“Halt!” cried Bernal Diaz.

“Who commands me to halt?” said the voice of de Garcia.

“I, your captain,” roared Diaz. “Halt, you devil, youmurderer, or you shall be cut down.”

I saw him start and turn pale.

“These are strange manners, señor,” he said. “Of your grace Iask—”

At this moment de Garcia caught sight of me for the first time, for I hadbroken from the hold of Diaz who clutched my arm, and was moving towards him. Isaid nothing, but there was something in my face which told him that I knewall, and warned him of his doom. He looked past me, but the narrow road wasblocked with men. I drew near, but he did not wait for me. Once he put his handon the hilt of the sword, then suddenly he wheeled his horse round and fleddown the street of Xaca.

De Garcia fled, and I followed after him, running fast and low like a hound. Atfirst he gained on me, but soon the road grew rough, and he could not gallopover it. We were clear of the town now, or rather of its ruins, and travellingalong a little path which the Indians used to bring down snow from Xaca in thehot weather. Perhaps there are some five miles of this path before the snowline is reached, beyond which no Indian dared to set his foot, for the groundabove was holy. Along this path he went, and I was content to see it, for Iknew well that the traveller cannot leave it, since on either side liewater-courses and cliffs. Mile after mile de Garcia followed it, looking now tothe left, now to the right, and now ahead at the great dome of snow crownedwith fire that towered above him. But he never looked behind him; he knew whatwas there—death in the shape of a man!

I came on doggedly, saving my strength. I was sure that I must catch him atlast, it did not matter when.

At length he reached the snow-line where the path ended, and for the first timehe looked back. There I was some two hundred paces behind him. I, his death,was behind him, and in front of him shone the snow. For a moment he hesitated,and I heard the heavy breathing of his horse in the great stillness. Then heturned and faced the slope, driving his spurs into the brute’s sides. Thesnow was hard, for here the frost bit sharply, and for a while, though it wasso steep, the horse travelled over it better than he had done along thepathway. Now, as before, there was only one road that he could take, for wepassed up the crest of a ridge, a pleat as it were in the garment of themountain, and on either side were steeps of snow on which neither horse nor manmight keep his footing. For two hours or more we followed that ridge, and as wewent through the silence of the haunted volcan, and the loneliness of itseternal snows, it seemed to me that my spirit entered into the spirit of myquarry, and that with its eyes I saw all that was passing in his heart. To aman so wronged the dream was pleasant even if it were not true, for I readthere such agony, such black despair, such haunting memories, such terror ofadvancing death and of what lay beyond it, that no revenge of man’s couldsurpass their torment. And it was true—I knew that it was true; hesuffered all this and more, for if he had no conscience, at least he had fearand imagination to quicken and multiply the fear.

Now the snow grew steeper, and the horse was almost spent, for he couldscarcely breathe at so great a height. In vain did de Garcia drive his spursinto its sides, the gallant beast could do no more. Suddenly it fell down.Surely, I thought, he will await me now. But even I had not fathomed the depthof his terrors, for de Garcia disengaged himself from the fallen horse, lookedtowards me, then fled forward on his feet, casting away his armour as he wentthat he might travel more lightly.

By this time we had passed the snow and were come to the edge of the ice capthat is made by the melting of the snow with the heat of the inner fires, orperhaps by that of the sun in hot seasons, I know not, and its freezing in thewinter months or in the cold of the nights. At least there is such a cap onXaca, measuring nearly a mile in depth, which lies between the snow and theblack rim of the crater. Up this ice climbed de Garcia, and the task is not ofthe easiest, even for one of untroubled mind, for a man must step from crack tocrack or needle to needle of rough ice, that stand upon the smooth surface likethe bristles on a hog’s back, and woe to him if one break or if he slip,for then, as he falls, very shortly the flesh will be filed from his bones bythe thousands of sword-like points over which he must pass in his descenttowards the snow. Indeed, many times I feared greatly lest this should chanceto de Garcia, for I did not desire to lose my vengeance thus. Therefore twicewhen I saw him in danger I shouted to him, telling him where to put his feet,for now I was within twenty paces of him, and, strange to say, he obeyed mewithout question, forgetting everything in his terror of instant death. But formyself I had no fear, for I knew that I should not fall, though the place wasone which I had surely shrunk from climbing at any other time.

All this while we had been travelling towards Xaca’s fiery crest by thebright moonlight, but now the dawn broke suddenly on the mountain top, and theflame died away in the heart of the pillar of smoke. It was wonderful to seethe red glory that shone upon the ice-cap, and on us two men who crept likeflies across it, while the mountain’s breast and the world below wereplunged in the shadows of night.

“Now we have a better light to climb by, comrade!” I called to deGarcia, and my voice rang strangely among the ice cliffs, where never aman’s voice had echoed before.

As I spoke the mountain rumbled and bellowed beneath us, shaking like awind-tossed tree, as though in wrath at the desecration of its sacredsolitudes. With the rumbling came a shower of grey ashes that rained down onus, and for a little while hid de Garcia from my sight. I heard him call out infear, and was afraid lest he had fallen; but presently the ashes cleared away,and I saw him standing safely on the lava rim that surrounds the crater.

Now, I thought, he will surely make a stand, for could he have found courage ithad been easy for him to kill me with his sword, which he still wore, as Iclimbed from the ice to the hot lava. It seemed that he thought of it, for heturned and glared at me like a devil, then went on again, leaving me wonderingwhere he believed that he would find refuge. Some three hundred paces from theedge of the ice, the smoke and steam of the crater rose into the air, andbetween the two was lava so hot that in places it was difficult to walk uponit. Across this bed, that trembled as I passed over it, went de Garcia somewhatslowly, for now he was weary, and I followed him at my ease, getting my breathagain.

Presently I saw that he had come to the edge of the crater, for he leanedforward and looked over, and I thought that he was about to destroy himself byplunging into it. But if such thoughts had been in his mind, he forgot themwhen he had seen what sort of nest this was to sleep in, for turning, he cameback towards me, sword up, and we met within a dozen paces of the edge. I saymet, but in truth we did not meet, for he stopped again, well out of reach ofmy sword. I sat down upon a block of lava and looked at him; it seemed to methat I could not feast my eyes enough upon his face. And what a face it was;that of a more than murderer about to meet his reward! Would that I could paintto show it, for no words can tell the fearfulness of those red and sunken eyes,those grinning teeth and quivering lips. I think that when the enemy of mankindhas cast his last die and won his last soul, he too will look thus as he passesinto doom.

“At length, de Garcia!” I said.

“Why do you not kill me and make an end?” he asked hoarsely.

“Where is the hurry, cousin? For hard on twenty years I have sought you,shall we then part so soon? Let us talk a while. Before we part to meet nomore, perhaps of your courtesy you will answer me a question, for I am curious.Why have you wrought these evils on me and mine? Surely you must have somereason for what seems to be an empty and foolish wickedness.”

I spoke to him thus calmly and coldly, feeling no passion, feeling nothing. Forin that strange hour I was no longer Thomas Wingfield, I was no longer human, Iwas a force, an instrument; I could think of my dead son without sorrow, he didnot seem dead to me, for I partook of the nature that he had put on in thischange of death. I could even think of de Garcia without hate, as though healso were nothing but a tool in some other hand. Moreover, I knewthathe was mine, body and mind, and that he must answer and truly, so surely as hemust die when I chose to kill him. He tried to shut his lips, but they openedof themselves and word by word the truth was dragged from his black heart asthough he stood already before the judgment seat.

“I loved your mother, my cousin,” he said, speaking slowly andpainfully; “from a child I loved her only in the world, as I love her tothis hour, but she hated me because I was wicked and feared me because I wascruel. Then she saw your father and loved him, and brought about his escapefrom the Holy Office, whither I had delivered him to be tortured and burnt, andfled with him to England. I was jealous and would have been revenged if Imight, but there was no way. I led an evil life, and when nearly twenty yearshad gone by, chance took me to England on a trading journey. By chance Ilearned that your father and mother lived near Yarmouth, and I determined tosee her, though at that time I had no thought of killing her. Fortune favouredme, and we met in the woodland, and I saw that she was still beautiful and knewthat I loved her more than ever before. I gave her choice to fly with me or todie, and after a while she died. But as she shrank up the wooded hillsidebefore my sword, of a sudden she stood still and said:

“‘Listen before you smite, Juan. I have a death vision. As I havefled from you, so shall you fly before one of my blood in a place of fire androck and snow, and as you drive me to the gates of heaven, so he shall driveyou into the mouth of hell.’”

“In such a place as this, cousin,” I said.

“In such a place as this,” he whispered, glancing round.

“Continue.”

Again he strove to be silent, but again my will mastered him and he spoke.

“It was too late to spare her if I wished to escape myself, so I killedher and fled. But terror entered my heart, terror which has never left it tothis hour, for always before my eyes was the vision of him of yourmother’s blood, before whom I should fly as she fled before me, who shalldrive me into the mouth of hell.”

“That must be yonder, cousin,” I said, pointing with the swordtoward the pit of the crater.

“It is yonder; I have looked.”

“But only for the body, cousin, not for the spirit.”

“Only for the body, not for the spirit,” he repeated after me.

“Continue,” I said.

“Afterwards on that same day I met you, Thomas Wingfield. Already yourdead mother’s prophecy had taken hold of me, and seeing one of her bloodI strove to kill him lest he should kill me.”

“As he will do presently, cousin.”

“As he will do presently,” he repeated like a talking bird.

“You know what happened and how I escaped. I fled to Spain and strove toforget. But I could not. One night I saw a face in the streets of Seville thatreminded me of your face. I did not think that it could be you, yet so strongwas my fear that I determined to fly to the far Indies. You met me on the nightof my flight when I was bidding farewell to a lady.”

“One Isabella de Siguenza, cousin. Ibade farewell to herafterwards and delivered her dying words to you. Now she waits to welcome youagain, she and her child.”

He shuddered and went on. “In the ocean we met again. You rose out of thesea. I did not dare to kill you at once, I thought that you must die in theslave-hold and that none could bear witness against me and hold me guilty ofyour blood. You did not die, even the sea could not destroy you. But I thoughtthat you were dead. I came to Anahuac in the train of Cortes and again we met;that time you nearly killed me. Afterwards I had my revenge and I tortured youwell; I meant to murder you on the morrow, though first I would torture you,for terror can be very cruel, but you escaped me. Long years passed, I wanderedhither and thither, to Spain, back to Mexico, and elsewhere, but wherever Iwent my fear, the ghosts of the dead, and my dreams went with me, and I wasnever fortunate. Only the other day I joined the company of Diaz as anadventurer. Not till we reached the City of Pines did I learn that you were thecaptain of the Otomie; it was said that you were long dead. You know therest.”

“Why did you murder my son, cousin?”

“Was he not of your mother’s blood, of the blood that should bringmy doom upon me, and did I owe you no reward for all the terrors of these manyyears? Moreover he is foolish who strives to slay the father and spares theson. He is dead and I am glad that I killed him, though he haunts me now withthe others.”

“And shall haunt you eternally. Now let us make an end. You have yoursword, use it if you can. It will be easier to die fighting.”

“I cannot,” he groaned; “my doom is upon me.”

“As you will,” and I came at him, sword up.

He ran from before me, moving backwards and keeping his eyes fixed upon mine,as I have seen a rat do when a snake is about to swallow it. Now we were uponthe edge of the crater, and looking over I saw an awful sight. For there, somethirty feet beneath us, the red-hot lava glowing sullenly beneath a shiftingpall of smoke, rolled and spouted like a thing alive. Jets of steam flewupwards from it with a screaming sound, lines of noxious vapours,many-coloured, crept and twisted on its surface, and a hot and horrid stenchpoisoned the heated air. Here indeed was such a gate as I could wish for deGarcia to pass through to his own abode.

I looked, pointed with my sword, and laughed; he looked and shrieked aloud, fornow all his manhood had left him, so great was his terror of what lay beyondthe end. Yes, this proud and haughty Spaniard screamed and wept and prayed formercy; he who had done so many villanies beyond forgiveness, prayed for mercythat he might find time to repent. I stood and watched him, and so dreadful washis aspect that horror struck me even through the calm of my frozen heart.

“Come, it is time to finish,” I said, and again I lifted my sword,only to let it fall, for suddenly his brain gave way and de Garcia went madbefore my eyes!

Of all that followed I will not write. With his madness courage came back tohim, and he began to fight, but not with me.

He seemed to perceive me no more, but nevertheless he fought, and desperately,thrusting at the empty air. It was terrible to see him thus doing battle withhis invisible foes, and to hear his screams and curses, as inch by inch theydrove him back to the edge of the crater. Here he stood a while, like one whomakes a last stand against overpowering strength, thrusting and strikingfuriously. Twice he nearly fell, as though beneath a mortal wound, butrecovering himself, fought on with Nothingness. Then, with a sharp cry,suddenly he threw his arms wide, as a man does who is pierced through theheart; his sword dropped from his hand, and he fell backwards into the pit.

I turned away my eyes, for I wished to see no more; but often I have wonderedWho or What it was that dealt de Garcia his death wound.

CHAPTER XXXVIII
OTOMIE’S FAREWELL

Thus then did I accomplish the vengeance that I had sworn to my father I wouldwreak upon de Garcia, or rather, thus did I witness its accomplishment, for inthe end he died, terribly enough, not by my hand but by those of his own fears.Since then I have sorrowed for this, for, when the frozen and unnatural calmpassed from my mind, I hated him as bitterly as ever, and grieved that I lethim die otherwise than by my hand, and to this hour such is my mind towardshim. Doubtless, many may think it wicked, since we are taught to forgive ourenemies, but here I leave the forgiveness to God, for how can I pardon one whobetrayed my father to the priests, who murdered my mother and my son, whochained me in the slave-ship and for many hours tortured me with his own hand?Rather, year by year, do I hate him more. I write of this at some length, sincethe matter has been a trouble to me. I never could say that I was in charitywith all men living and dead, and because of this, some years since, a worthyand learned rector of this parish took upon himself to refuse me the rites ofthe church. Then I went to the bishop and laid the story before him, and itpuzzled him somewhat.

But he was a man of large mind, and in the end he rebuked the rector andcommanded him to minister to me, for he thought with me that the Almighty couldnot ask of an erring man, that he should forgive one who had wrought such evilson him and his, even though that enemy were dead and gone to judgment inanother place.

But enough of this question of conscience.

When de Garcia was gone into the pit, I turned my steps homewards, or rathertowards the ruined city which I could see beneath me, for I had no home left.Now I must descend the ice cap, and this I found less easy than climbing it hadbeen, for, my vengeance being accomplished, I became as other men are, and asad and weary one at that, so sad indeed that I should not have sorrowedgreatly if I had made a false step upon the ice.

But I made none, and at length I came to the snow where the travelling waseasy. My oath was fulfilled and my vengeance was accomplished, but as I went Ireckoned up the cost. I had lost my betrothed, the love of my youth; for twentyyears I had lived a savage chief among savages and made acquaintance with everyhardship, wedded to a woman who, although she loved me dearly, and did not lacknobility of mind, as she had shown the other day, was still at heart a savageor, at the least, a thrall of demon gods. The tribe that I ruled was conquered,the beautiful city where I dwelt was a ruin, I was homeless and a beggar, andmy fortune would be great if in the issue I escaped death or slavery. All thisI could have borne, for I had borne the like before, but the cruel end of mylast surviving son, the one true joy of my desolate life, I could not bear. Thelove of those children had become the passion of my middle age, and as I lovedthem so they had loved me. I had trained them from babyhood till their heartswere English and not Aztec, as were their speech and faith, and thus they werenot only my dear children, but companions of my own race, the only ones I had.And now by accident, by sickness, and by the sword, they were dead the three ofthem, and I was desolate.

Ah! we think much of the sorrows of our youth, and should a sweetheart give usthe go by we fill the world with moans and swear that it holds no comfort forus. But when we bend our heads before the shrouded shape of some lost child,then it is that for the first time we learn how terrible grief can be. Time,they tell us, will bring consolation, but it is false, for such sorrows timehas no salves—I say it who am old—as they are so they shall be.There is no hope but faith, there is no comfort save in the truth that lovewhich might have withered on the earth grows fastest in the tomb, to flowergloriously in heaven; that no love indeed can be perfect till God sanctifiesand completes it with His seal of death.

I threw myself down there upon the desolate snows of Xaca, that none had trodbefore, and wept such tears as a man may weep but once in his life days.

“O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee,O Absalom, my son, my son!” I cried with the ancient king—I whosegrief was greater than his, for had I not lost three sons within as many years?Then remembering that as this king had gone to join his son long centuries ago,so I must one day go to join mine, and taking such comfort from the thought asmay be found in it, I rose and crept back to the ruined City of Pines.

It was near sunset when I came thither, for the road was long and I grew weak.By the palace I met the Captain Diaz and some of his company, and they liftedtheir bonnets to me as I went by, for they had respect for my sorrows. OnlyDiaz spoke, saying:

“Is the murderer dead?”

I nodded and went on. I went on to our chamber, for there I thought that Ishould find Otomie.

She sat in it alone, cold and beautiful as though she had been fashioned inmarble.

“I have buried him with the bones of his brethren and hisforefathers,” she said, answering the question that my eyes asked.“It seemed best that you should see him no more, lest your heart shouldbreak.”

“It is well,” I answered; “but my heart is brokenalready.”

“Is the murderer dead?” she said presently in the very words ofDiaz.

“He is dead.”

“How?”

I told her in few words.

“You should have slain him yourself; our son’s blood is notavenged.”

“I should have slain him, but in that hour I did not seek vengeance, Iwatched it fall from heaven, and was content. Perchance it is best so. Theseeking of vengeance has brought all my sorrows upon me; vengeance belongs toGod and not to man, as I have learned too late.”

“I do not think so,” said Otomie, and the look upon her face wasthat look which I had seen when she smote the Tlascalan, when she tauntedMarina, and when she danced upon the pyramid, the leader of the sacrifice.“Had I been in your place, I would have killed him by inches. When I haddone with him, then the devils might begin, not before. But it is of noaccount; everything is done with, all are dead, and my heart with them. Noweat, for you are weary.”

So I ate, and afterwards I cast myself upon the bed and slept.

In the darkness I heard the voice of Otomie that said, “Awake, I wouldspeak with you,” and there was that about her voice which stirred me frommy heavy sleep.

“Speak on,” I said. “Where are you, Otomie?”

“Seated at your side. I cannot rest, so I am seated here. Listen. Many,many years ago we met, when you were brought by Guatemoc from Tobasco. Ah! welldo I remember my first sight of you, the Teule, in the court of my fatherMontezuma, at Chapoltepec. I loved you then as I have loved you ever since. Atleast Ihave never gone astray after strange gods,” and shelaughed bitterly.

“Why do you talk of these things, Otomie?” I asked.

“Because it is my fancy to do so. Cannot you spare me one hour from yoursleep, who have spared you so many? You remember how you scorned me—oh! Ithought I should have died of shame when, after I had caused myself to be givento you as wife, the wife of Tezcat, you told me of the maid across the seas,that Lily maid whose token is still set upon your finger. But I lived throughit and I loved you the better for your honesty, and then you know the rest. Iwon you because I was brave and lay at your side upon the stone of sacrifice,where you kissed me and told me that you loved me. But you never loved me, nottruly, all the while you were thinking of the Lily maid. I knew it then, as Iknow it now, though I tried to deceive myself. I was beautiful in those daysand this is something with a man. I was faithful and that is more, and once ortwice you thought that you loved me. Now I wish that those Teules had come anhour later, and we had died together there upon the stone, that is I wish itfor my own sake, not for yours. Then we escaped and the great struggle came. Itold you then that I understood it all. You had kissed me on the stone ofsacrifice, but in that moment you were as one dead; when you came back to life,it was otherwise. But fortune took the game out of your hands and you marriedme, and swore an oath to me, and this oath you have kept faithfully. Youmarried me but you did not know whom you married; you thought me beautiful, andsweet, and true, and all these things I was, but you did not understand that Iwas far apart from you, that I was still a savage as my forefathers had been.You thought that I had learned your ways, perchance even you thought that Ireverenced your God, as for your sake I have striven to do, but all the while Ihave followed the ways of my own people and I could not quite forget my owngods, or at the least they would not suffer me, their servant, to escape them.For years and years I put them from me, but at last they were avenged and myheart mastered me, or rather they mastered me, for I knew nothing of what I didsome few nights since, when I celebrated the sacrifice to Huitzel and you sawme at the ancient rites.

“All these years you had been true to me and I had borne you childrenwhom you loved; but you loved them for their own sake, not for mine, indeed, atheart you hated the Indian blood that was mixed in their veins with yours. Mealso you loved in a certain fashion and this half love of yours drove me wellnigh mad; such as it was, it died when you saw me distraught and celebratingthe rites of my forefathers on the teocalliyonder, and you knew me forwhat I am, a savage. And now the children who linked us together aredead—one by one they died in this way and in that, for the curse whichfollows my blood descended upon them—and your love for me is dead withthem. I alone remain alive, a monument of past days, and I die also.

“Nay, be silent; listen to me, for my time is short. When you bade mecall you ‘husband’ no longer, then I knew that it was finished. Iobey you, I put you from me, you are no more my husband, and soon I shall ceaseto be your wife; still, Teule, I pray you listen to me. Now it seems to you inyour sorrow, that your days are done and that there is no happiness left foryou. This is not so. You are still but a man in the beginning of middle age,and you are yet strong. You will escape from this ruined land, and when youshake the dust of it off your feet its curse shall fall from you; you willreturn to your own place, and there you will find one who has awaited yourcoming for many years. There the savage woman whom you mated with, the princessof a fallen house, will become but a fantastic memory to you, and all thesestrange eventful years will be as a midnight dream. Only your love for the deadchildren will always remain, these you must always love by day and by night,and the desire of them, that desire for the dead than which there is nothingmore terrible, shall follow you to your grave, and I am glad that it should beso, for I was their mother and some thought of me must go with them. This alonethe Lily maid has left to me, and there only I shall prevail against her, for,Teule, no child of hers shall live to rob your heart of the memory of those Igave you.

“Oh! I have watched you by day and by night: I have seen the longing inyour eyes for a face which you have lost and for the land of your youth. Behappy, you shall gain both, for the struggle is ended and the Lily maid hasbeen too strong for me. I grow weak and I have little more to say. We part, andperhaps for ever, for what is there between us save the souls of those deadsons of ours? Since you desire me no more, that I may make our severanceperfect, now in the hour of my death I renounce your gods and I seek my own,though I think that I love yours and hate those of my people. Is there anycommunion between them? We part, and perchance for ever, yet I pray of you tothink of me kindly, for I have loved you and I love you; I was the mother ofyour children, whom being Christian, you will meet again. I love you now andfor always. I am glad to have lived because you kissed me on the stone ofsacrifice, and afterwards I bore you sons. They are yours and not mine; itseems to me now that I only cared for them because they were yours, and theyloved you and not me. Take them—take their spirits as you have takeneverything. You swore that death alone should sever us, and you have kept youroath in the letter and in the thought. But now I go to the Houses of the Sun toseek my own people, and to you, Teule, with whom I have lived many years andseen much sorrow, but whom I will no longer call husband, since you forbade meso to do, I say, make no mock of me to the Lily maid. Speak of me to her aslittle as you may—be happy and—farewell!”

Now as she spoke ever more faintly, and I listened bewildered, the light ofdawn grew slowly in the chamber. It gathered on the white shape of Otomieseated in a chair hard by the bed, and I saw that her arms hung down and thather head was resting on the back of the chair. Now I sprang up and peered intoher face. It was white and cold, and I could feel no breath upon her lips. Iseized her hand, that also was cold. I spoke into her ear, I kissed her brow,but she did not move nor answer. The light grew quickly, and now I saw all.Otomie was dead, and by her own act.

This was the manner of her death. She had drunk of a poison of which theIndians have the secret, a poison that works slowly and without pain, leavingthe mind unclouded to the end. It was while her life was fading from her thatshe had spoken to me thus sadly and bitterly. I sat upon the bed and gazed ather. I did not weep, for my tears were done, and as I have said, whatever Imight feel nothing could break my calm any more. And as I gazed a greattenderness and sorrow took hold of me, and I loved Otomie better now that shewas dead before me than ever I had done in her life days, and this is sayingmuch. I remembered her in the glory of her youth as she was in the court of herroyal father, I remembered the look which she had given me when she stepped tomy side upon the stone of sacrifice, and that other look when she defiedCuitlahua the emperor, who would have slain me. Once more I seemed to hear hercry of bitter sorrow as she uncovered the body of the dead babe our firstborn,and to see her sword in hand standing over the Tlascalan.

Many things came back to me in that sad hour of dawn while I watched by thecorpse of Otomie. There was truth in her words, I had never forgotten my firstlove and often I desired to see her face. But it was not true to say that I hadno love for Otomie. I loved her well and I was faithful in my oath to her,indeed, not until she was dead did I know how dear she had grown to me. It istrue that there was a great gulf between us which widened with the years, thegulf of blood and faith, for I knew well that she could not altogether put awayher old beliefs, and it is true that when I saw her leading the death chant, agreat horror took me and for a while I loathed her. But these things I mighthave lived to forgive, for they were part of her blood and nature, moreover,the last and worst of them was not done by her own will, and when they were setaside there remained much that I could honour and love in the memory of thismost royal and beautiful woman, who for so many years was my faithful wife. SoI thought in that hour and so I think to this day. She said that we parted forever, but I trust and I believe that this is not so. Surely there isforgiveness for us all, and a place where those who were near and dear to eachother on the earth may once more renew their fellowship.

At last I rose with a sigh to seek help, and as I rose I felt that there wassomething set about my neck. It was the collar of great emeralds which Guatemochad given to me, and that I had given to Otomie. She had set it there while Islept, and with it a lock of her long hair. Both shall be buried with me.

I laid her in the ancient sepulchre amid the bones of her forefathers and bythe bodies of her children, and two days later I rode to Mexico in the train ofBernal Diaz. At the mouth of the pass I turned and looked back upon the ruinsof the City of Pines, where I had lived so many years and where all I lovedwere buried. Long and earnestly I gazed, as in his hour of death a man looksback upon his past life, till at length Diaz laid his hand upon my shoulder:

“You are a lonely man now, comrade,” he said; “what planshave you for the future?”

“None,” I answered, “except to die.”

“Never talk so,” he said; “why, you are scarcely forty, and Iwho am fifty and more do not speak of dying. Listen; you have friends in yourown country, England?”

“I had.”

“Folk live long in those quiet lands. Go seek them, I will find you apassage to Spain.”

“I will think of it,” I answered.

In time we came to Mexico, a new and a strange city to me, for Cortes hadrebuilt it, and where the teocallihad stood, up which I was led tosacrifice, a cathedral was building, whereof the foundations were fitly laidwith the hideous idols of the Aztecs. The place was well enough, but it is notso beautiful as the Tenoctitlan of Montezuma, nor ever will be. The people toowere changed; then they were warriors and free, now they are slaves.

In Mexico Diaz found me a lodging. None molested me there, for the pardon thatI had received was respected. Also I was a ruined man, no longer to be feared,the part that I had played in the noche tristeand in the defence of thecity was forgotten, and the tale of my sorrows won me pity even from theSpaniards. I abode in Mexico ten days, wandering sadly about the city and up tothe hill of Chapoltepec, where Montezuma’s pleasure-house had been, andwhere I had met Otomie. Nothing was left of its glories except some of theancient cedar trees. On the eighth day of my stay an Indian stopped me in thestreet, saying that an old friend had charged him to say that she wished to seeme.

I followed the Indian, wondering who the friend might be, for I had no friends,and he led me to a fine stone house in a new street. Here I was seated in adarkened chamber and waited there a while, till suddenly a sad and sweet voicethat seemed familiar to me, addressed me in the Aztec tongue, saying,“Welcome, Teule.”

I looked and there before me, dressed in the Spanish fashion, stood a lady, anIndian, still beautiful, but very feeble and much worn, as though with sicknessand sorrow.

“Do you not know Marina, Teule?” she said again, but before thewords had left her lips I knew her. “Well, I will say this, that I shouldscarcely have known you, Teule. Trouble and time have done their workwith both of us.”

I took her hand and kissed it.

“Where then is Cortes?” I asked.

Now a great trembling seized her.

“Cortes is in Spain, pleading his suit. He has wed a new wife there,Teule. Many years ago he put me away, giving me in marriage to Don JuanXaramillo, who took me because of my possessions, for Cortes dealt liberallywith me, his discarded mistress.” And she began to weep.

Then by degrees I learned the story, but I will not write it here, for it isknown to the world. When Marina had served his turn and her wit was of no moreservice to him, the conqueror discarded her, leaving her to wither of a brokenheart. She told me all the tale of her anguish when she learned the truth, andof how she had cried to him that thenceforth he would never prosper. Nor indeeddid he do so.

For two hours or more we talked, and when I had heard her story I told hermine, and she wept for me, since with all her faults Marina’s heart wasever gentle.

Then we parted never to meet again. Before I went she pressed a gift of moneyon me, and I was not ashamed to take it who had none.

This then was the history of Marina, who betrayed her country for herlove’s sake, and this the reward of her treason and her love. But I shallalways hold her memory sacred, for she was a good friend to me, and twice shesaved my life, nor would she desert me, even when Otomie taunted her socruelly.

CHAPTER XXXIX
THOMAS COMES BACK FROM THE DEAD

Now on the morrow of my visit to Marina, the Captain Diaz came to see me andtold me that a friend of his was in command of a carakwhich was due tosail from the port of Vera Cruz for Cadiz within ten days, and that this friendwas willing to give me a passage if I wished to leave Mexico. I thought for awhile and said that I would go, and that very night, having bid farewell to theCaptain Diaz, whom may God prosper, for he was a good man among many bad ones,I set out from the city for the last time in the company of some merchants. Aweek’s journey took us safely down the mountains to Vera Cruz, a hotunhealthy town with an indifferent anchorage, much exposed to the fiercenortherly winds. Here I presented my letters of recommendation to the commanderof the carak, who gave me passage without question, I laying in a stockof food for the journey.

Three nights later we set sail with a fair wind, and on the following morningat daybreak all that was left in sight of the land of Anahuac was the snowycrest of the volcan Orizaba. Presently that vanished into the clouds, and thusdid I bid farewell to the far country where so many things had happened to me,and which according to my reckoning I had first sighted on this very dayeighteen years before.

Of my journey to Spain I have nothing of note to tell. It was more prosperousthan such voyages often are, and within ten weeks of the date of our liftinganchor at Vera Cruz, we let it drop in the harbour of Cadiz. Here I sojournedbut two days, for as it chanced there was an English ship in the harbourtrading to London, and in her I took a passage, though I was obliged to sellthe smallest of the emeralds from the necklace to find the means to do so, themoney that Marina gave me being spent. This emerald sold for a great sum,however, with part of which I purchased clothing suitable to a person of rank,taking the rest of the gold with me. I grieved to part with the stone indeed,though it was but a pendant to the pendant of the collar, but necessity knowsno law. The pendant stone itself, a fine gem though flawed, I gave in afteryears to her gracious majesty Queen Elizabeth.

On board the English ship they thought me a Spanish adventurer who had mademoneys in the Indies, and I did not undeceive them, since I would be left to myown company for a while that I might prepare my mind to return to ways ofthought and life that it had long forgotten. Therefore I sat apart like someproud don, saying little but listening much, and learning all I could of whathad chanced in England since I left it some twenty years before.

At length our voyage came to an end, and on a certain twelfth of June I foundmyself in the mighty city of London that I had never yet visited, and kneelingdown in the chamber of my inn, I thanked God that after enduring so manydangers and hardships, it had pleased Him to preserve me to set foot again onEnglish soil. Indeed to this hour I count it nothing short of marvellous thatthis frail body of a man should survive all the sorrows and risks of death bysickness, hunger, battle, murder, drowning, wild beasts, and the cruelty ofmen, to which mine had been exposed for many years.

In London I bought a good horse, through the kind offices of the host of myinn, and on the morrow at daybreak I set out upon the Ipswich road. That verymorning my last adventure befell me, for as I jogged along musing of the beautyof the English landscape and drinking in the sweet air of June, a cowardlythief fired a pistol at me from behind a hedge, purposing to plunder me if Ifell. The bullet passed through my hat, grazing the skull, but before I coulddo anything the rascal fled, seeing that he had missed his mark, and I went onmy journey, thinking to myself that it would indeed have been strange, if afterpassing such great dangers in safety, I had died at last by the hand of amiserable foot-pad within five miles of London town.

I rode hard all that day and the next, and my horse being stout and swift, byhalf-past seven o’clock of the evening I pulled up upon the little hillwhence I had looked my last on Bungay, when I rode thence for Yarmouth with myfather. Below me lay the red roofs of the town; there to the right were theoaks of Ditchingham and the beautiful tower of St. Mary’s Church, yonderthe stream of Waveney wandered, and before me stretched the meadow lands,purple and golden with marsh weeds in bloom. All was as it had been, I couldsee no change at all, the only change was in myself. I dismounted, and going toa pool of water near the roadway I looked at the reflection of my own face. Iwas changed indeed, scarcely should I have known it for that of the lad who hadridden up this hill some twenty years ago. Now, alas! the eyes were sunken andvery sorrowful, the features were sharp, and there was more grey than black inthe beard and hair. I should scarcely have known it myself, would any othersknow it, I wondered? Would there be any to know it indeed? In twenty years manydie and others pass out of sight; should I find a friend at all among theliving? Since I read the letters which Captain Bell of the“Adventuress” had brought me before I sailed for Hispaniola, I hadheard no tidings from my home, and what tidings awaited me now? Above all whatof Lily, was she dead or married or gone?

Mounting my horse I pushed on again at a canter, taking the road past WaingfordMills through the fords and Pirnhow town, leaving Bungay upon my left. In tenminutes I was at the gate of the bridle path that runs from the Norwich roadfor half a mile or more beneath the steep and wooded bank under the shelter ofwhich stands the Lodge at Ditchingham. By the gate a man loitered in the lastrays of the sun. I looked at him and knew him; it was Billy Minns, that samefool who had loosed de Garcia when I left him bound that I might run to meet mysweetheart. He was an old man now and his white hair hung about his witheredface, moreover he was unclean and dressed in rags, but I could have fallen onhis neck and embraced him, so rejoiced was I to look once more on one whom Ihad known in youth.

Seeing me come he hobbled on his stick to the gate to open it for me, whining aprayer for alms.

“Does Mr. Wingfield live here?” I said, pointing up the path, andmy breath came quick as I asked.

“Mr. Wingfield, sir, Mr. Wingfield, which of them?” he answered.“The old gentleman he’s been dead nigh upon twenty years. I helpedto dig his grave in the chancel of yonder church I did, we laid him by hiswife—her that was murdered. Then there’s Mr. Geoffrey.”

“What of him?” I asked.

“He’s dead, too, twelve year gone or more; he drank hisself to deadhe did. And Mr. Thomas, he’s dead, drowned over seas they say, many awinter back; they’re all dead, all dead! Ah! he was a rare one, Mr.Thomas was; I mind me well how when I let the furriner go—” and herambled off into the tale of how he had set de Garcia on his horse after I hadbeaten him, nor could I bring him back from it.

Casting him a piece of money, I set spurs to my weary horse and cantered up thebridle path, leaving the Mill House on my left, and as I went, the beat of hishoofs seemed to echo the old man’s words, “All dead, alldead!” Doubtless Lily was dead also, or if she was not dead, when thetidings came that I had been drowned at sea, she would have married. Being sofair and sweet she would surely not have lacked for suitors, nor could it bebelieved that she had worn her life away mourning over the lost love of heryouth.

Now the Lodge was before me; it had changed no whit except that the ivy andcreepers on its front had grown higher, to the roof indeed, and I could seethat people lived in the house, for it was well kept, and smoke hung above thechimneys. The gate was locked, and there were no serving men about, for nightfell fast, and all had ceased from their labour. Leaving the house on the rightI passed round it to the stables that are at the back near the hillside garden,but here the gate was locked also, and I dismounted not knowing what to do.Indeed I was so unmanned with fear and doubt that for a while I seemedbewildered, and leaving the horse to crop the grass where he stood, I wanderedto the foot of the church path and gazed up the hill as though I waited for thecoming of one whom I should meet.

“What if they were all dead, what if SHE were dead and gone?” Iburied my face in my hands and prayed to the Almighty who had protected methrough so many years, to spare me this last bitterness. I was crushed withsorrow, and I felt that I could bear no more. If Lily were lost to me also,then I thought that it would be best that I should die, since there was nothingleft for which I cared to live.

Thus I prayed for some while, trembling like a leaf, and when I looked upagain, ere I turned to seek tidings from those that dwelt in the house, whoeverthey might be, the twilight had fallen completely, and lo! nightingales sangboth far and near. I listened to their song, and as I listened, some troubledmemory came back to me that at first I could not grasp. Then suddenly thererose up in my mind a vision of the splendid chamber in Montezuma’s palacein Tenoctitlan, and of myself sleeping on a golden bed, and dreaming on thatbed. I knew it now, I was the god Tezcat, and on the morrow I must besacrificed, and I slept in misery, and as I slept I dreamed. I dreamed that Istood where I stood this night, that the scent of the English flowers was in mynostrils as it was this night, and that the sweet song of the nightingales rangin my ears as at this present hour. I dreamed that as I mused and listened themoon came up over the green ash and oaks, and lo! there she shone. I dreamedthat I heard a sound of singing on the hill—

But now I awoke from this vision of the past and of a long lost dream, for as Istood the sweet voice of a woman began to sing yonder on the brow of the slope;I was not mad, I heard it clearly, and the sound grew ever nearer as the singerdrew down the steep hillside. It was so near now that I could catch the verywords of that sad song which to this day I remember.

Now I could see the woman’s shape in the moonlight; it was tall andstately and clad in a white robe. Presently she lifted her head to watch theflitter of a bat and the moonlight lit upon her face. It was the face of LilyBozard, my lost love, beautiful as of yore, though grown older and stamped withthe seal of some great sorrow. I saw, and so deeply was I stirred at the sight,that had it not been for the low paling to which I clung, I must have fallen tothe earth, and a deep groan broke from my lips.

She heard the groan and ceased her song, then catching sight of the figure of aman, she stopped and turned as though to fly. I stood quite still, and wonderovercoming her fear, she drew nearer and spoke in the sweet low voice that Iremembered well, saying, “Who wanders here so late? Is it you,John?”

Now when I heard her speak thus a new fear took me. Doubtless she was marriedand “John” was her husband. I had found her but to lose her morecompletely. Of a sudden it came into my mind that I would not discover myselftill I knew the truth. I advanced a pace, but not so far as to pass from theshadow of the shrubs which grow here, and taking my stand in such a fashionthat the moonlight did not strike upon my face, I bowed low in the courtlySpanish fashion, and disguising my voice spoke as a Spaniard might in brokenEnglish which I will spare to write down.

“Madam,” I said, “have I the honour to speak to one who inbygone years was named the Señora Lily Bozard?”

“That was my name,” she answered. “What is your errand withme, sir?”

Now I trembled afresh, but spoke on boldly.

“Before I answer, Madam, forgive me if I ask another question. Is thisstill your name?”

“It is still my name, I am no married woman,” she answered, and fora moment the sky seemed to reel above me and the ground to heave beneath myfeet like the lava crust of Xaca. But as yet I did not reveal myself, for Iwished to learn if she still loved my memory.

“Señora,” I said, “I am a Spaniard who served in the Indianwars of Cortes, of which perhaps you have heard.”

She bowed her head and I went on. “In those wars I met a man who wasnamed Teule, but who had another name in former days, so he told me on hisdeathbed some two years ago.”

“What name?” she asked in a low voice.

“Thomas Wingfield.”

Now Lily moaned aloud, and in her turn caught at the pales to save herself fromfalling.

“I deemed him dead these eighteen years,” she gasped;“drowned in the Indian seas where his vessel foundered.”

“I have heard say that he was shipwrecked in those seas, señora, but heescaped death and fell among the Indians, who made a god of him and gave himthe daughter of their king in marriage,” and I paused.

She shivered, then said in a hard voice, “Continue, sir; I listen toyou.”

“My friend Teule took the part of the Indians in the wars, as being thehusband of one of their princesses he must do in honour, and fought bravely forthem for many years. At length the town that he defended was captured, his oneremaining child was murdered, his wife the princess slew herself for sorrow,and he himself was taken into captivity, where he languished and died.”

“A sad tale, sir,” she said with a little laugh—a mournfullaugh that was half choked by tears.

“A very sad tale, señora, but one which is not finished. While he laydying, my friend told me that in his early life he had plighted troth with acertain English maid, named—”

“I know the name—continue.”

“He told me that though he had been wedded, and loved his wife theprincess, who was a very royal woman, that many times had risked her life forhis, ay, even to lying at his side upon the stone of sacrifice and of her ownfree will, yet the memory of this maiden to whom he was once betrothed hadcompanioned him through life and was strong upon him now at its close.Therefore he prayed me for our friendship’s sake to seek her out when Ireturned to Europe, should she still live, and to give her a message from him,and to make a prayer to her on his behalf.”

“What message and what prayer?” Lily whispered.

“This: that he loved her at the end of his life as he had loved her atits beginning; that he humbly prayed her forgiveness because he had broken thetroth which they two swore beneath the beech at Ditchingham.”

“Sir,” she cried, “what do you know of that?”

“Only what my friend told me, señora.”

“Your friendship must have been close and your memory must begood,” she murmured.

“Which he had done,” I went on, “under strange circumstances,so strange indeed that he dared to hope that his broken troth might be renewedin some better world than this. His last prayer was that she should say to me,his messenger, that she forgave him and still loved him, as to his death heloved her.”

“And how can such forgiveness or such an avowal advantage a deadman?” Lily asked, watching me keenly through the shadows. “Have thedead then eyes to see and ears to hear?”

“How can I know, señora? I do but execute my mission.”

“And how can I know that you are a true messenger. It chanced that I hadsure tidings of the drowning of Thomas Wingfield many years ago, and this taleof Indians and princesses is wondrous strange, more like those that happen inromances than in this plain world. Have you no token of your good faith,sir?”

“I have such a token, señora, but the light is too faint for you to seeit.”

“Then follow me to the house, there we will get light. Stay,” andonce more going to the stable gate, she called “John.”

An old man answered her, and I knew the voice for that of one of myfather’s serving men. To him she spoke in low tones, then led the way bythe garden path to the front door of the house, which she opened with a keyfrom her girdle, motioning to me to pass in before her. I did so, and thinkinglittle of such matters at the moment, turned by habit into the doorway of thesitting-room which I knew so well, lifting my feet to avoid stumbling on itsstep, and passing into the room found my way through the gloom to the widefireplace where I took my stand. Lily watched me enter, then following me, shelit a taper at the fire which smouldered on the hearth, and placed it upon thetable in the window in such fashion that though I was now obliged to take offmy hat, my face was still in shadow.

“Now, sir, your token if it pleases you.”

Then I drew the posy ring from my finger and gave it to her, and she sat downby the table and examined it in the light of the candle, and as she sat thus, Isaw how beautiful she was still, and how little time had touched her, exceptfor the sadness of her face, though now she had seen eight-and-thirty winters.I saw also that though she kept control of her features as she looked upon thering, her breast heaved quickly and her hand shook.

“The token is a true one,” she said at length. “I know thering, though it is somewhat worn since last I saw it, it was my mother’s;and many years ago I gave it as a love gage to a youth to whom I promisedmyself in marriage. Doubtless all your tale is true also, sir, and I thank youfor your courtesy in bringing it so far. It is a sad tale, a very sad tale. Andnow, sir, as I may not ask you to stay in this house where I live alone, andthere is no inn near, I propose to send serving men to conduct you to mybrother’s dwelling that is something more than a mile away, ifindeed,” she added slowly, “you do not already know the path! Thereyou will find entertainment, and there the sister of your dead companion, MaryBozard, will be glad to learn the story of his strange adventures from yourlips.”

I bowed my head and answered, “First, señora, I would pray your answer tomy friend’s dying prayer and message.”

“It is childish to send answers to the dead.”

“Still I pray for them as I was charged to do.”

“How reads the writing within this ring, sir?”

“Heart to heart,
Though far apart,”

I said glibly, and next instant I could have bitten out my tongue.

“Ah! you know that also, but doubtless you have carried the ring for manymonths and learned the writing. Well, sir, though we were far apart, and thoughperchance I cherished the memory of him who wore this ring, and for his sakeremained unwed, it seems that his heart went a straying—to the breastindeed of some savage woman whom he married, and who bore him children. Thatbeing so, my answer to the prayer of your dead friend is that I forgive himindeed, but I must needs take back the vows which I swore to him for this lifeand for ever, since he has broken them, and as best I may, strive to cast outthe love I bore him since he rejected and dishonoured it,” and standingup Lily made as though she tore at her breast and threw something from her, andat the same time she let fall the ring upon the floor.

I heard and my heart stood still. So this was the end of it. Well, she had theright of me, though now I began to wish that I had been less honest, forsometimes women can forgive a lie sooner than such frankness. I said nothing,my tongue was tied, but a great misery and weariness entered into me. Stoopingdown I found the ring, and replacing it on my finger, I turned to seek the doorwith a last glance at the woman who refused me. Halfway thither I paused forone second, wondering if I should do well to declare myself, then bethought methat if she would not abate her anger toward me dead, her pity for me livingwould be small. Nay, I was dead to her, and dead I would remain.

Now I was at the door and my foot was on its step, when suddenly a voice,Lily’s voice, sounded in my ears and it was sweet and kind.

“Thomas,” said the voice, “Thomas, before you go, will younot take count of the gold and goods and land that you placed in mykeeping?”

Now I turned amazed, and lo! Lily came towards me slowly and with outstretchedarms.

“Oh! foolish man,” she whispered low, “did you think todeceive a woman’s heart thus clumsily? You who talked of the beech in theHall garden, you who found your way so well to this dark chamber, and spoke thewriting in the ring with the very voice of one who has been dead so long.Listen: I forgive that friend of yours his broken troth, for he was honest inthe telling of his fault and it is hard for man to live alone so many years,and in strange countries come strange adventures; moreover, I will say it, Istill love him as it seems that he loves me, though in truth I grow somewhatold for love, who have lingered long waiting to find it beyond my grave.”

Thus Lily spoke, sobbing as she spoke, then my arms closed round her and shesaid no more. And yet as our lips met I thought of Otomie, remembering herwords, and remembering also that she had died by her own hand on this very daya year ago.

Let us pray that the dead have no vision of the living!

CHAPTER XL
AMEN

And now there is little left for me to tell and my tale draws to its end, forwhich I am thankful, for I am very old and writing is a weariness to me, sogreat a weariness indeed that many a time during the past winter I have beennear to abandoning the task.

For a while Lily and I sat almost silent in this same room where I writeto-day, for our great joy and many another emotion that was mixed with it,clogged our tongues. Then as though moved by one impulse, we knelt down andoffered our humble thanks to heaven that had preserved us both to this strangemeeting. Scarcely had we risen from our knees when there was a stir without thehouse, and presently a buxom dame entered, followed by a gallant gentleman, alad, and a maiden. These were my sister Mary, her husband Wilfred Bozard,Lily’s brother, and their two surviving children, Roger and Joan. Whenshe guessed that it was I come home again and no other, Lily had sent themtidings by the servant man John, that one was with her whom she believed theywould be glad to see, and they had hurried hither, not knowing whom they shouldfind. Nor were they much the wiser at first, for I was much changed and thelight in the room shone dim, but stood perplexed, wondering who this strangermight be.

“Mary,” I said at length, “Mary, do you not remember me, mysister?”

Then she cried aloud, and throwing herself into my arms, she wept there awhile, as would any of us were our beloved dead suddenly to appear before oureyes, alive and well, and her husband clasped me by the hand and swore heartilyin his amazement, as is the fashion of some men when they are moved. But thechildren stood staring blankly till I called the girl to me, who now was muchwhat her mother had been when we parted, and kissing her, told her that I wasthat uncle of whom perhaps she had heard as dead many years ago.

Then my horse, that all this while had been forgotten, having been caught andstabled, we went to supper and it was a strange meal to me, and after meat Iasked for tidings. Now I learned that the fortune which my old master Fonsecahad left to me came home in safety, and that it had prospered exceedingly underLily’s care, for she had spent but very little of it for her maintenance,looking on it always as a trust rather than as her own. When my death seemedcertain my sister Mary had entered on her share of my possessions, however, andwith it had purchased some outlying lands in Earsham and Hedenham, and the woodand manor of Tyndale Hall in Ditchingham and Broome. These lands I made hasteto say she might keep as a gift from me, since it seemed that I had greaterriches than I could need without them, and this saying of mine pleased herhusband Wilfred Bozard not a little, seeing that it is hard for a man to giveup what he has held for many years.

Then I heard the rest of the story; of my father’s sudden death, of howthe coming of the gold had saved Lily from being forced into marriage with mybrother Geoffrey, who afterwards had taken to evil courses which ended in hisdecease at the age of thirty-one; of the end of Squire Bozard, Lily’sfather and my old enemy, from an apoplexy which took him in a sudden fit ofanger. After this it seemed, her brother being married to my sister Mary, Lilyhad moved down to the Lodge, having paid off the charges that my brotherGeoffrey had heaped upon his heritage, and bought out my sister’s rightsto it. And here at the Lodge she had lived ever since, a sad and lonely woman,and yet not altogether an unhappy one, for she gave much of her time to goodworks. Indeed she told me that had it not been for the wide lands and moneyswhich she must manage as my heiress, she would have betaken herself to asisterhood, there to wear her life away in peace, since I being lost to her,and indeed dead, as she was assured,—for the news of the wreck of thecarakfound its way to Ditchingham,—she no longer thought ofmarriage, though more than one gentleman of condition had sought her hand.This, with some minor matters, such as the birth and death of children, and thestory of the great storm and flood that smote Bungay, and indeed the length ofthe vale of Waveney in those days, was all the tale that they had to tell whohad grown from youth to middle age in quiet. For of the crowning and end ofkings and of matters politic, such as the downfall of the power of the Pope ofRome and the sacking of the religious houses which was still in progress, Imake no mention here.

But now they called for mine, and I began it at the beginning, and it wasstrange to see their faces as they listened. All night long, till the thrushessang down the nightingales, and the dawn shone in the east, I sat atLily’s side telling them my story, and then it was not finished. So weslept in the chambers that had been made ready for us, and on the morrow I tookit up again, showing them the sword that had belonged to Bernal Diaz, the greatnecklace of emeralds which Guatemoc had given to me, and certain scars andwounds in witness of its truth. Never did I see folk so much amazed, and when Icame to speak of the last sacrifice of the women of the Otomie, and of thehorrid end of de Garcia who died fighting with his own shadow, or rather withthe shadows of his own wickedness, they cried aloud with fear, as they weptwhen I told of the deaths of Isabella de Siguenza and of Guatemoc, and of theloss of my sons.

But I did not tell all the story to this company, for some of it was forLily’s ear alone, and to her I spoke of my dealings with Otomie as a manmight speak with a man, for I felt that if I kept anything back now there wouldnever be complete faith between us. Therefore I set out all my doubts andtroublings, nor did I hide that I had learned to love Otomie, and that herbeauty and sweetness had drawn me from the first moment when I saw her in thecourt of Montezuma, or that which had passed between us on the stone ofsacrifice.

When I had done Lily thanked me for my honesty and said it seemed that in suchmatters men differed from women, seeing that SHE had never felt the need to bedelivered from the temptation of strange loves. Still we were as God and Naturehad made us, and therefore had little right to reproach each other, or even toset that down as virtue which was but lack of leaning. Moreover, this Otomie,her sin of heathenism notwithstanding, had been a great-hearted woman and onewho might well dazzle the wandering eyes of man, daring more for herlove’s sake than ever she, Lily, could have dared; and to end with, itwas clear that at last I must choose between wedding her and a speedy death,and having sworn so great an oath to her I should have been perjured indeed ifI had left her when my dangers were gone by. Therefore she, Lily, was minded tolet all this matter rest, nor should she be jealous if I still thought of thisdead wife of mine with tenderness.

Thus she spoke most sweetly, looking at me the while with her clear and earnesteyes, that I ever fancied must be such as adorn the shining faces of angels.Ay, and those same eyes of hers were filled with tears when I told her mybitter grief over the death of my firstborn and of my other bereavements. Forit was not till some years afterwards, when she had abandoned further hope ofchildren, that Lily grew jealous of those dead sons of mine and of my everpresent love for them.

Now the tidings of my return and of my strange adventures among the nations ofthe Indies were noised abroad far and wide, and people came from miles round,ay, even from Norwich and Yarmouth, to see me and I was pressed to tell my taletill I grew weary of it. Also a service of thanksgiving for my safe deliverancefrom many dangers by land and sea was held in the church of St. Mary’shere in Ditchingham, which service was no longer celebrated after the rites ofthe Romish faith, for while I had sojourned afar, the saints were fallen likethe Aztec gods; the yoke of Rome had been broken from off the neck of England,and though all do not think with me, I for one rejoiced at it heartily who hadseen enough of priestcraft and its cruelties.

When that ceremony was over and all people had gone to their homes, I came backagain to the empty church from the Hall, where I abode a while as the guest ofmy sister and her husband, till Lily and I were wed.

And there in the quiet light of the June evening I knelt in the chancel uponthe rushes that strewed the grave of my father and my mother, and sent myspirit up towards them in the place of their eternal rest, and to the God whoguards them. A great calm came upon me as I knelt thus, and I felt how mad hadbeen that oath of mine that as a lad I had sworn to be avenged upon de Garcia,and I saw how as a tree from a seed, all my sorrows had grown from it. But eventhen I could not do other than hate de Garcia, no, nor can I to this hour, andafter all it was natural that I should desire vengeance on the murderer of mymother though the wreaking of it had best been left in another Hand.

Without the little chancel door I met Lily, who was lingering there knowing meto be within, and we spoke together.

“Lily,” I said, “I would ask you something. After all thathas been, will you still take me for your husband, unworthy as I am?”

“I promised so to do many a year ago, Thomas,” she answered,speaking very low, and blushing like the wild rose that bloomed upon a gravebeside her, “and I have never changed my mind. Indeed for many years Ihave looked upon you as my husband, though I thought you dead.”

“Perhaps it is more than I deserve,” I said. “But if it is tobe, say when it shall be, for youth has left us and we have little time tolose.”

“When you will, Thomas,” she answered, placing her hand in mine.

Within a week from that evening we were wed.

And now my tale is done. God who gave me so sad and troublous a youth and earlymanhood, has blessed me beyond measure in my middle age and eld. All theseevents of which I have written at such length were done with many a day ago:the hornbeam sapling that I set beneath these windows in the year when we weremarried is now a goodly tree of shade and still I live to look on it. Here inthe happy valley of the Waveney, save for my bitter memories and that longingfor the dead which no time can so much as dull, year after year has rolled overmy silvering hairs in perfect health and peace and rest, and year by year haveI rejoiced more deeply in the true love of a wife such as few have known. Forit would seem as though the heart-ache and despair of youth had but sweetenedthat most noble nature till it grew well nigh divine. But one sorrow came tous, the death of our infant child—for it was fated that I should diechildless—and in that sorrow, as I have told, Lily shewed that she wasstill a woman. For the rest no shadow lay between us. Hand in hand we passeddown the hill of life, till at length in the fulness of her days my wife wastaken from me. One Christmas night she lay down to sleep at my side, in themorning she was dead. I grieved indeed and bitterly, but the sorrow was not asthe sorrows of my youth had been, since age and use dull the edge of mortalgriefs and I knew and know that we are no long space apart. Very soon I shalljoin Lily where she is, and I do not fear that journey. For the dread of deathhas left me at length, as it departs from all who live long enough and striveto repent them of their sins, and I am well content to leave my safety at theGates and my heavenly comfort in the Almighty Hand that saved me from the stoneof sacrifice and has guided me through so many perils upon this troubled earth.

And now to God my Father, Who holds me, Thomas Wingfield, and all I have lovedand love in His holy keeping, be thanks and glory and praise! Amen.