CHAPTER LXII.
We draw a curtain over the events of the first five days of flight,wherein the miserable fugitives, contending, at once, with fatigue,famine, and unrelenting foes, stole by night, and through darklingby-ways, along the northern borders of the fair valley, from which theywere thus ignominiously, and, as it seemed, for ever, expelled. Of thetwenty mounted men, each, like a Red-Cross Knight, in the ancient daysof the order, bore a wounded companion on his crupper; and Don Amador,himself, on a jaded beast that had belonged to Marco,--for Fogoso hadbeen lost or killed in the melee,--thus carried the only remainingservant of himself and his knight,--the ancient Baltasar. Other mangledwretches were borne on the backs of Tlascalans, in rudely constructedlitters.
In this manner, the ruined and melancholy band pursued its way, bylake-side and hill, over morass and river, ever pursued and insulted bybodies of barbarians, and frequently attacked; till, on the evening ofthe fifth day, they flung their weary forms to sleep in the City (as itmay be called) of Pyramids, among those mouldering and cactus-coveredmounds, which the idolatry of a forgotten age reared to the divinity ofthe greater and lesser luminaries of heaven, on the field Micoatl, thatis to say, the Plain of Death. The visitor of San Juan de Teotihuacanstill perceives these gigantic barriers, rising among the hundreds ofsmaller mounds--the Houses of the Stars--which strew the consecratedhaunts, and, perhaps, conceal the sepulchres, of a holozoic people.
At sunrise, the Spaniards arose, ascended the mountain of Aztaquemacan,at the north-eastern border of the valley, and prepared, with a joyousexpectation, which had not been diminished even by the significant andconstantly-repeated threats of the pursuers, to descend into thefriendly land of the Tlascalans, by way of the vale of Otumba. For thelast two days, the name of this valley had been continually on the lipsof the Mexicans, following on the rear; and their cries, as interpretedby Marina, who survived the horrors of the Melancholy Night, intimated,plainly enough, that the work of revenge, so dreadfully commenced uponthe lake, was to be consummated in the gorges of the mountains.Nevertheless, the Spaniards, in the alacrity of spirit, which theprospect of soon ending their sufferings in the Land of Bread, produced,forgot these menaces, or regarded them as the idle bravados of impotentfury; and clambered upwards, with increasing hope, until they reachedthe crest of a ridge, and looked down the slope to the wished-forvalley. The sight which they beheld, will be described in another place.It remains, now, to return to an individual, whose fate has long beenwrapped in mystery.
At the moment when the Spaniards approached the highest part of theravine, by which, alone, they could pass, in that quarter, from the valeof Tenochtitlan, there lay, in a wild and savage nook of the mountain,which went shelving upwards on the right hand, and at so short adistance, that had a bugle been winded in the army, it must have reachedhis ears,--one who had been a companion in many of their battles andsufferings. A number of huge rocks fallen ages ago, and rolled from somedistant pinnacle, were heaped together on a broad and inclined shelf,and enclosed a space of ground so regular in form, and yet so rudelybounded by those sprawling barriers, that it looked to the imaginationnot unlike the interior of some stupendous temple, built by a barbaricpeople, and overwhelmed, many ages before, by some great convulsion. Oneside was formed by a cliff, in whose shivered side yawned the entranceof a black and dismal cavern, while the broken masses of rock themselvesformed the others. Among, and over these, where they lay in contact withthe cliff, there rushed a torrent, which, in the times of drought, mighthave been a meager and chattering rivulet, making its way, merrily,through gap and hollow, but which, now, swollen by the summer rains,came raving and roaring over the rocks, broken by them into a series offoaming cascades; and, then, shooting over a corner of the enclosure,and, darting through the opposite wall, it went, thundering, down themountain. A few stunted trees stretched their withered limbs among thesesavage masses; and the noontide sun, peeping down into the nook, andlighting up a part of the cliff, fell pleasantly on the mosses andAlpine flowers, which ornamented its shelving floor, tinting, withmomentary rainbows, the mists that hung over the fall. A sable steed,without bridle or halter, and much the worse for such primitivestabling, but yet, to all appearance, the relic of a once noblewar-horse, wandered, at liberty, through the enclosure, cropping the fewplants which bedecked it, or drinking from the little pools, at the sideof the torrent; while, at the mouth of the cave, at the foot of a woodencrucifix of the rudest description, lay sleeping the figure of hismaster. A stained and tattered garment of leather, investing his limbs,was not altogether hidden under a black mantle, which partly covered hisbody. The head of the sleeper lay on his right arm, and this embracedthe foot of the cross, so that the grizzly locks, which fell from hisforehead, rested against, and almost twined around, the holy wood.
The sunbeam played, unregarded, on his withered cheeks, and flickeredover a heap of rusted armour, both of man and horse, which lay hard by,shining, also, with a fierce lustre, upon what appeared a scarletsurcoat, hung, like a banner, on the point of a knightly lance, whichrested against the side of the cliff.
Disease, as well as age, had furrowed the cheeks, and wasted the form ofthe slumberer; famine seemed to have been at work, as well as all otherprivations incident to a habitation in the desert; and there was, in hiswhole appearance, such an air of extreme and utter misery, as would havemoved the pity of any beholder. Nevertheless, he slept on, regardless ofthe roaring fall, and heedless of the fierce sunbeam, in suchtranquillity as augured, at least, a momentary suspension of suffering.
As the sun stole up to the meridian, another human creature was suddenlyadded to the scene. The browsing war-horse pricked his ears, andsnorted, as if to do the duty of a faithful sentinel, and convey to hismaster a note of alarm, as certain dried branches crackled among therocks of the wall, and a stone, loosened as by a footstep, fell,rattling, down their sides, and buried itself in the pool, at the baseof the fall. But the anchorite, for such the solitude of his dwelling,the poverty of his raiment, and, more than all, the little rugged crosswhich he embraced, caused him to appear, heard not these sounds; heslept on, lulled by the accustomed roar of the water-fall; and the steedwas left alone, to watch the approach of the stranger.
Presently, he was seen dragging himself up the rocks, by the aid of adrooping bough; and when he had reached their top, he rested for amoment, still clinging to the branch, as if worn out with toil, as was,indeed, made apparent by the youth and feebleness of his appearance. Hecast a haggard and uninterested eye on the romantic torrent leaping andfoaming at his feet, and seemed to hesitate whether he should descendinto the prison-like enclosure, or retrace his steps, and retreat as hehad come. But, suddenly, his gaze fell upon the steed, and he startedwith surprise at a sight so unexpected. The sagacious animal whinniedloudly, as if with recognition; and the youth, devoutly crossinghimself, looked, with an agitation that denoted terror, on the redgarment, the cross, and the human figure that still lay sleeping, or,perhaps, as he thought, dead, under its holy shadow. Then, as ifresolved, he hastened to descend from the rugged fragments, and seekingwhere he might safely cross the brook, over the stones that obstructedits bed, he at last stood at the side of the good steed, which snuffedat him a moment with joy, and, then, gambolling about a little, fell tocropping the plants again, satisfied that the comer was a friend.
The youth stole up tremblingly to the side of the sleeper, and seemedshocked at his emaciated and neglected appearance. He stooped as if toawake him, and then started back, wringing his hands, in fear and grief.He bent over him again;--a smile passed like a beam over the countenanceof the recluse, and a murmur escaped his lips, of which the youth caughtonly a few broken syllables:
"Though I shed thy blood," were the words he distinguished, "yet did Inot aim at thee; and, therefore, hast thou forgiven me, for the sin wasthe sin of frenzy. Thou pardonest me, too, Alharef, for thou art, also,of the angels. It is good to walk with thee through the seats ofbliss."
A tear fell upon the
cheek of the knight Calavar,--for it was, indeed,he; but it fell like the spray-drop, or the gentle dew; and it was notuntil the hand of the youth touched his shoulder, that he awoke and rosefeebly to his feet.
"Whoever thou art," said the unfortunate devotee, "thou breakest theonly dream of happiness that hath visited my slumbers, for long and manyyears, and callest me from the paradise that filled me with bliss, tothe earth which is the wheel whereon I am broken--Miserere mei, Deus!"
"Alas, my lord!"
"Art thou sent back to bid me prepare?" cried Don Gabriel, startingwildly, at the voice of the intruder. "Lo! I have flung me off theharness of war, and devoted me to penance in the wilderness, giving mybody to sleep on the earth and in caves, drinking of the wild floods,and eating of the tough roots, with the earth-worm; while I sleep, myheart is scourged within me; whilst I wake, I pray,--and I pray that Imay sleep for ever. Know, therefore, Jacinto! thou that dwellest inparadise! that I am ready, and that I thank heaven, I am called, atlast; for weary has been my life, and long my repentance."
"Alas, my lord, I live like thyself; and I call upon thee, that thoumayest continue to live. I thought, indeed, that thou wert dead, and sothought, and yet think, thy friends,--who are now in great peril."
"God snatched me from the hands of the heathen," said the knight, "andbrought me to this place, that I might seek for peace. For, oh! my heartwas but filled with scorpions, that stung me day and night, and my headstrewn with coals, ever burning and tormenting, whilst I sat in theinfidel city, and remembered how he that hath been my son, was slain bymurderers in the streets, because he loved me! All that loved me haveperished, and (wo betide the hand that struck, and is not yet withered!)two under mine own steel. Yea, Alharef, thou art remembered! and, Zayda,thou art not forgotten! Then came the blow to thee, dear seraph! andthou wert carried off by the angry spirit of Alharef, who defied me atthe palace-gate, and, in the temple-yard, raised me to my feet, and bademe think of Zayda. Verily, I remember her, and my heart is black withrecollection! Then fell the bolt upon my boy,--he that was matchless inhonour and love, peerless in war, incomparable in truth!--Would that thebarbarous knives had struck my bosom, instead of thine, Amador! wouldthat thou wert now upon thy gallant bay, shaking thy lance, and shoutingthe cry of the Hospital, and I in thy place, mouldering in the streetsof Mexico! I lay on my couch, whilst thou wert calling to me for aid; Islept while thou wert dying.--Cursed be thy foundations, pagan city!ruin fall upon thy towers, havoc ride howling through thy palaces, andlamentations come up from thy lakes and gardens! for he that was thelast and first, the loving and beloved, rots like a dog upon thypavement!"
"Noble and dear master," said Jacinto, "in this, at least, thou artmistaken. My dear lord, thy kinsman, perished not that day in thestreets; for I myself did watch by his sick couch, and see him, afterthou hadst departed, return in safety to the palace."
"Dost thou say so?--He died not in the streets? Praised be God, for thishis goodness!" cried Don Gabriel, falling on his knees. "My sin, then,hath not been visited on the guileless and true! My son Amador yetliveth!"
He looked to the page, and now, for the first time, observed, as far asthis could be seen through his thickly padded garments, that the form ofJacinto was greatly attenuated; his cheeks were hollow and colourless,and his countenance altered, as by some such grief as had been at workin his own bosom. He seemed, too, to be very feeble. But, if such werethe appearances of sorrow on his visage, they assumed a yet morestriking character of agony and despair, when the knight's words of joyfell on his ear. His face grew paler than death, he trembled like alinden leaf, and his lips scarcely obeyed their function, when hereplied, with a faint and fruitless effort at calmness,--
"I will not deceive my lord; no, heaven be my stay! I will not deceivemy lord. Though my friend,--my patron,--my protector,--the nobleAmador,--fell not in the streets, but returned to his people, yet is hisfate wrapped in mystery,--in darkness and in fear. That night, thatdreadful night!--O heaven! the causey covered with men, shrieking andcursing, stabbing and rending! the lake choked with corses, and withdying men still contending, and suffocating, each in the grasp of adrowning foe!--But I think not of that, I think not of that!--Who lived?who died? We searched for the body of my lord, but found it not: he wasnot with those they led to the pyramid; his corse floated not among thehundreds, which befouled the lake: yet did they discover his goodlywar-horse on the water-side,--his surcoat was dragged from a ditch,among cannon, under whose heavy bulk lay many bodies, which the Indiansstrove to push up with poles--but my lord's body rose not among them.And yet, he sleeps in the lake,--yes, he sleeps in the lake! for howcould he escape that night, and I no more by his side?"
As Jacinto spoke, he wept and sobbed bitterly, giving himself up todespair. But not so the knight: he listened, somewhat bewildered, to theconfused narration of an event, in which he had shared no part; butcatching the idea, at last, and mingling it with another, the fruit ofhis very distempered mind, he said, quickly, and almost joyously,--
"Dry thy tears; for now I perceive that my son is not dead, but liveth;and straightway we will go forth, and seek him!" Jacinto regarded theknight with a melancholy look. He noticed the incredulity, and resumed,with much devout emphasis,--"But a moment since, before thou camest intothis den, mine eyes were opened upon paradise; it was vouchsafed to me,who must never hope to enjoy such spectacle again,--no, _desdichado demi_! never again, never again,--to look upon the golden city of God;wherein I walked, with all those whom, in my life, I had loved, and whowere dead. There saw I, among the saints and seraphim, my father, whofell in arms at the sack of Alhama; my mother, who died giving me birth;together with all the friends of my childhood, who perished early:there, also, I beheld Alharef and Zayda, the murdered and theblest,--with all others that were truly dead. Now thou wilt see, how Godopened mine eyes in this trance; for, though I wept thee, dear child, astruly believing thou wert deceased, yet thee I saw not among theblissful, where thou must have been, hadst thou been discarded fromearth, as I thought thee. And I remember me, too, and great joy it is toremember, that my son Amador was not among those saints; for whichreason, heaven makes it manifest to us, that he lives. Now, therefore,let us go forth from this desert, and seek him. Though mine eyes aresealed among these hills, and my feet stumble upon the rocks, yet willheaven point us out a path to Mexico!"
"Alas! my lord need not seek so far," said the page. "The pagans are nowalone in the city, having driven out their enemies, with terribleslaughter.--Never more will the Spaniards return to it!"
"Ay, now, I remember me!" said the knight, catching up some of hisbattered armour, as he spoke. "This defence, that I had thought for everrejected, must I again buckle on. I remember me, thou spokest of a nightof retreat by the causeway, very dreadful and bloody. Ay! and thousaidst thou wert at Amador's side!--How was it, that thou wert takenfrom him, and didst yet live?"
"My father Abdalla," said Jacinto, sorrowfully, "my father, by chance,heard me cry at the ditch, when my lord, Don Amador, was gone; and hesaved me in his canoe."
"Thy father? thy father, Abdalla?--I remember me of Abdalla," said theknight, touching his brow. "There is a strange mystery in Abdalla. I amtold--that is, I heard from my poor Marco--that Abdalla, the Moor, didgreatly abhor me, even to the seeking of my life."
"He wronged him!" said the page: "whatever was my father's hatred of mylord, he never sought to do him a wrong!"
"Strange!" muttered Don Gabriel; "thou acknowledgest he hated me, then?Wherefore should he, whom I have not injured, hate me? And wherefore,after confiding thyself to my good keeping?"
"Let me not deceive my lord," said Jacinto, sadly, but firmly: "Myfather entrusted his child to him he hated, because he knew him just andhonourable; and my father did receive great wrong, as well as otherunhappy Moors, of my lord, in the Alpujarras----"
The knight dropped the dinted cuishes which he had snatched up, and,clasping his hands wildly, exclaimed,--
"Miserere mei, Deus! my
sin is inexpiable, and my torment endless; for,in the Alpujarras, did I slay him whom I had sworn to love, and deface,with a murderous sword, the loveliest of thine images!"
"Dear my lord," said Jacinto, shocked and grieved at his agitation;"forget this, for thy sin is not what thou thinkest, and it has beenalready forgiven thee. Zayda hath seen, from heaven, the greatness ofthy grief, and she intercedes for thee with our Holy Mother."
"She follows me on earth, she comes to me in visions!" cried DonGabriel, vehemently. "Rememberest thou not the night of Cholula? Thenstood she before me, as thou dost; and, with face of snow and finger ofwrath, she reminded me of my malefaction."
"My lord is deceived--this was no spectre, but a living woman," saidJacinto, hurriedly.
The knight stared, aghast.
"If I make it appear to my lord," continued the page, "that this was,indeed, no phantom sent to reproach, but a living creature, haplyresembling her of whom he speaks, and, therefore, easily mistaken, inthe gloom, for one of whom my lord thought, in his deliriousmoment,--will it not satisfy my lord, that he is not persecuted, butforgiven?"
"If thou canst speak aught to remove one atom and grain from thismountain of misery, which weighs upon my heart," said Calavar,earnestly, "I adjure thee that thou speak it. Many times have I thoughtthat she whom I slew, stood at my side; but yet had I hopes, and apartial belief, that these were the visions of my disease; for my mindis sometimes very sorely distracted. What I saw at Cholula, was beyondsuch explication,--very clearly and vividly represented, and seen by mewhen my thoughts were not disordered."
"Let my lord be content, and know that this was a living creature, as Ihave said, and no apparition: let him do on his armour; and, by-and-by,all shall be revealed to him."
"Speak to me now," said the knight.
"Not now! not now!" interrupted Jacinto; "for, at this moment, themyriads of vengeful fiends who seek for the blood of my lord, DonAmador, if he be yet living, are rushing upon the poor fugitives. Dothnot my lord hear?--Hark!"
"'Tis a trumpet! it blasteth for a charge of horse!" cried Calavar, asthe distant sound came echoing up the mountain, even over the roar ofthe fall.--The ancient war-horse heard the remembered note, and prickinghis ears, neighed loudly and fiercely, running to a gap in the wall, asif to seek the contest, till recalled by the voice of his master.
"The infidels are then at hand, and they do battle with Christians?"exclaimed Don Gabriel, the fire of chivalry again flashing from his eye,and almost driving away the thought of Zayda. "Buckle me these straps,and see that thou art speedy; for this brooks not delay. God hath calledme to this mountain, that I should be ready to do battle with theheathen, in defence of the holy cross, which is my sworn vow; and inthe fulfilment of the same, I pray God that I may die.--Sound again,brave heart! smite me the godless fast and well; for presently I shallbe with ye, striking for the faith!--Why, how thou loiterest, youngknave! Be speedy, for my son Amador is with the Christian host; and,this day, heaven wills that I shall bring him succour."
"Alas! my lord," cried the page, "I would that I could give my life toaid him; but my fingers are skilless and feeble."
"Thou art a godly boy, and well do I love thee. Buckle me as thou canst,and care not to buckle well; for, in this fight, God will be my armour.Buckle me, therefore, as thou canst; and, while thou art thus engaged,give me to know, what good angel brought thee to be my messenger."
"I followed my sire," said the trembling Jacinto, "with the forces ofMexico, that were sent to join the mountain bands, and cut off thefugitives; and, being commanded to rest me on the hill till the battlewas over, I lost myself; which, with my great grief of heart, caused meto seek some nook wherein I might die. For truly, now, unless my lordAmador be living, I care not myself for life."
"The forces of Mexico! be they many? and these dogs of the hills, arethey in numbers?"
"Countless as the drops of spray which the breeze flings over us," saidJacinto, with much perturbation, "so that nothing, but the goodness ofGod, can rescue the Spaniards out of their hands, and conduct them forthon the path so blocked up by their bodies. The Mexicans are manythousands in number, and triumphing still in the thought of their horridvictory on the lake. They swear that no Spaniard shall escape them, thisday."
"I swear, myself," said Calavar, fiercely, "and heaven will listen tothe vow of a Christian, though one sinful and miserable, that, this day,even they themselves, the godless pagans, shall be scattered as dustunder our footsteps!--Quick--my war-coat! and now, my good lance, thathath drunk the blood of the heathen! _Santa Madre de Dios! Senorabeatificada!_ the infidel shall fall under the cross, and the truebeliever rejoice in his slaughter!"
With such exclamations of fervour, the spirit of youthful daysreturning, at each blast of the trumpet, which was still winded atintervals, the knight ceased doing on his armour, and then, withJacinto's feeble assistance, caparisoned his impatient steed. When thiswas done, he bade the page to follow him; and, riding through one of themany gaps in the colossal wall, began to descend the mountain.
Calavar; or, The Knight of The Conquest, A Romance of Mexico Page 64