Montezuma's Daughter

by H. Rider Haggard

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  VENGEANCE

  During that meal Bernal Diaz spoke of our first meeting on the causeway,and of how I had gone near to killing him in error, thinking that he wasSarceda, and then 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 theevil that de Garcia or Sarceda had worked upon me and mine, and of howit was through him that I was in this land that day. He listened amazed.

  'Holy Mother!' he said at length, 'I always knew him for a villain, butthat, if you do not lie, friend Wingfield, he could be such a man asthis, I did not know. Now by my word, had I heard this tale an hourago, Sarceda should not have left this camp till he had answered it orcleared himself by combat with you. But I fear it is too late; he was toleave for Mexico at the rising of the moon, to stir up mischief againstme because I granted you terms--not that I fear him there, where hisrepute is small.'

  'I do not lie indeed,' I answered. 'Much of this tale I can prove ifneed 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 hasescaped me, and the score between us is long.'

  Now as I spoke thus it seemed to me that a cold and dreadful air playedupon my hands and brow and a warning sense of present evil crept into mysoul, 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, and summoninga guard, he was about to leave the chamber. It was at this moment thatI 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, wasthrown back, and on her face was a look of such anguish that at first,so much was she changed, I did not know her for Otomie. When I knew her,I knew all; one thing only could conjure up the terror and agony thatshone in her deep eyes.

  'What has chanced to our son?' I asked.

  'DEAD, DEAD!' she answered in a whisper that seemed to pierce 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 meday by day and hour by hour, till I die and go to seek my son.

  'Say, Bernal Diaz,' I cried, with a hoarse laugh, 'did I lie to youconcerning this comrade of yours?'

  Then, springing over Otomie's body I left the chamber, followed byBernal Diaz and the others.

  Without the door I turned to the left towards the camp. I had not gonea hundred paces when, in the moonlight, I saw a small troop of horsemenriding towards us. It was de Garcia and his servants, and they headedtowards the mountain 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, you murderer, or youshall be cut down.'

  I saw him start and turn pale.

  'These are strange manners, senor,' he said. 'Of your grace I ask--'

  At this moment de Garcia caught sight of me for the first time, for Ihad broken from the hold of Diaz who clutched my arm, and was movingtowards him. I said nothing, but there was something in my face whichtold him that I knew all, and warned him of his doom. He looked past me,but the narrow road was blocked with men. I drew near, but he didnot wait for me. Once he put his hand on the hilt of the sword, thensuddenly he wheeled his horse round and fled down the street of Xaca.

  De Garcia fled, and I followed after him, running fast and low like ahound. At first he gained on me, but soon the road grew rough, and hecould not gallop over it. We were clear of the town now, or rather ofits ruins, and travelling along a little path which the Indians usedto bring down snow from Xaca in the hot weather. Perhaps there are somefive miles of this path before the snow line is reached, beyond which noIndian dared to set his foot, for the ground above was holy. Along thispath he went, and I was content to see it, for I knew well that thetraveller cannot leave it, since on either side lie water-courses andcliffs. Mile after mile de Garcia followed it, looking now to the left,now to the right, and now ahead at the great dome of snow crowned withfire that towered above him. But he never looked behind him; he knewwhat was there--death in the shape of a man!

  I came on doggedly, saving my strength. I was sure that I must catch himat last, it did not matter when.

  At length he reached the snow-line where the path ended, and for thefirst time he looked back. There I was some two hundred paces behindhim. 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 horsein the great stillness. Then he turned and faced the slope, driving hisspurs into the brute's sides. The snow was hard, for here the frost bitsharply, and for a while, though it was so steep, the horse travelledover it better than he had done along the pathway. Now, as before, therewas only one road that he could take, for we passed up the crest of aridge, a pleat as it were in the garment of the mountain, and on eitherside were steeps of snow on which neither horse nor man might keep hisfooting. For two hours or more we followed that ridge, and as we wentthrough the silence of the haunted volcan, and the loneliness of itseternal snows, it seemed to me that my spirit entered into the spiritof my quarry, and that with its eyes I saw all that was passing in hisheart. To a man so wronged the dream was pleasant even if it were nottrue, for I read there such agony, such black despair, such hauntingmemories, such terror of advancing death and of what lay beyond it, thatno revenge of man's could surpass their torment. And it was true--Iknew that it was true; he suffered all this and more, for if he had noconscience, at least he had fear and imagination to quicken and multiplythe 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 hisspurs into its sides, the gallant beast could do no more. Suddenly itfell down. Surely, I thought, he will await me now. But even I had notfathomed the depth of his terrors, for de Garcia disengaged himselffrom the fallen horse, looked towards me, then fled forward on his feet,casting away his armour as he went that he might travel more lightly.

  By this time we had passed the snow and were come to the edge of the icecap that is made by the melting of the snow with the heat of the innerfires, or perhaps by that of the sun in hot seasons, I know not, andits freezing in the winter months or in the cold of the nights. At leastthere is such a cap on Xaca, measuring nearly a mile in depth, whichlies between the snow and the black rim of the crater. Up this iceclimbed de Garcia, and the task is not of the easiest, even for one ofuntroubled mind, for a man must step from crack to crack or needleto needle of rough ice, that stand upon the smooth surface like thebristles on a hog's back, and woe to him if one break or if he slip, forthen, as he falls, very shortly the flesh will be filed from his bonesby the thousands of sword-like points over which he must pass in hisdescent towards the snow. Indeed, many times I feared greatly lest thisshould chance to de Garcia, for I did not desire to lose my vengeancethus. Therefore twice when I saw him in danger I shouted to him, tellinghim where to put his feet, for now I was within twenty paces ofhim, and, strange to say, he obeyed me without question, forgettingeverything in his terror of instant death. But for myself I had no fear,for I knew that I should not fall, though the place was one which I hadsurely 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 the flame died away in the heart of the pillar of smoke. It waswonderful to see the red glory that shone upon the ice-cap, and on ustwo men who crept like flies across it, while the mountain's breast andthe world below were plunged in the shadows of night.

  'Now we have a better li
ght 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 likea wind-tossed tree, as though in wrath at the desecration of its sacredsolitudes. With the rumbling came a shower of grey ashes that raineddown on us, and for a little while hid de Garcia from my sight. I heardhim call out in fear, and was afraid lest he had fallen; but presentlythe ashes cleared away, and I saw him standing safely on the lava rimthat surrounds the crater.

  Now, I thought, he will surely make a stand, for could he have foundcourage it had been easy for him to kill me with his sword, which hestill wore, as I climbed from the ice to the hot lava. It seemed that hethought of it, for he turned and glared at me like a devil, then went onagain, leaving me wondering where he believed that he would find refuge.Some three hundred paces from the edge of the ice, the smoke and steamof the crater rose into the air, and between the two was lava so hotthat in places it was difficult to walk upon it. Across this bed, thattrembled as I passed over it, went de Garcia somewhat slowly, for now hewas weary, and I followed him at my ease, getting my breath again.

  Presently I saw that he had come to the edge of the crater, for heleaned forward and looked over, and I thought that he was about todestroy himself by plunging into it. But if such thoughts had been inhis mind, he forgot them when he had seen what sort of nest this wasto sleep in, for turning, he came back towards me, sword up, and we metwithin a dozen paces of the edge. I say met, but in truth we did notmeet, for he stopped again, well out of reach of my sword. I sat downupon a block of lava and looked at him; it seemed to me that I could notfeast my eyes enough upon his face. And what a face it was; that of amore than murderer about to meet his reward! Would that I could paint toshow it, for no words can tell the fearfulness of those red and sunkeneyes, those grinning teeth and quivering lips. I think that when theenemy of mankind has cast his last die and won his last soul, he toowill look thus as he passes into 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 meetno more, perhaps of your courtesy you will answer me a question, for Iam curious. Why have you wrought these evils on me and mine? Surelyyou must have some reason for what seems to be an empty and foolishwickedness.'

  I spoke to him thus calmly and coldly, feeling no passion, feelingnothing. For in that strange hour I was no longer Thomas Wingfield, Iwas no longer human, I was a force, an instrument; I could think of mydead son without sorrow, he did not seem dead to me, for I partook ofthe nature that he had put on in this change of death. I could eventhink of de Garcia without hate, as though he also were nothing but atool in some other hand. Moreover, I KNEW that he was mine, body andmind, and that he must answer and truly, so surely as he must die whenI chose to kill him. He tried to shut his lips, but they opened ofthemselves and word by word the truth was dragged from his black heartas though 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 Iwas cruel. Then she saw your father and loved him, and brought about hisescape from the Holy Office, whither I had delivered him to be torturedand burnt, and fled with him to England. I was jealous and would havebeen revenged if I might, but there was no way. I led an evil life, andwhen nearly twenty years had gone by, chance took me to England on atrading journey. By chance I learned that your father and mother livednear Yarmouth, and I determined to see her, though at that time I had nothought of killing her. Fortune favoured me, and we met in the woodland,and I saw that she was still beautiful and knew that I loved her morethan ever before. I gave her choice to fly with me or to die, and aftera while she died. But as she shrank up the wooded hillside before mysword, of a sudden she stood still and said:

  '"Listen before you smite, Juan. I have a death vision. As I have fledfrom 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 shalldrive you 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 hespoke.

  '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 leftit to this hour, for always before my eyes was the vision of him ofyour mother's blood, before whom I should fly as she fled before me, whoshall drive me into the mouth of hell.'

  'That must be yonder, cousin,' I said, pointing with the sword towardthe 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 stroveto forget. But I could not. One night I saw a face in the streets ofSeville that reminded me of your face. I did not think that it couldbe you, yet so strong was my fear that I determined to fly to the farIndies. You met me on the night of my flight when I was bidding farewellto a lady.'

  'One Isabella de Siguenza, cousin. I bade farewell to her afterwards anddelivered her dying words to you. Now she waits to welcome you again,she and her child.'

  He shuddered and went on. 'In the ocean we met again. You rose out ofthe sea. I did not dare to kill you at once, I thought that you must diein the slave-hold and that none could bear witness against me and holdme guilty of your blood. You did not die, even the sea could not destroyyou. But I thought that you were dead. I came to Anahuac in the trainof Cortes and again we met; that time you nearly killed me. AfterwardsI had my revenge and I tortured you well; I meant to murder you on themorrow, though first I would torture you, for terror can be very cruel,but you escaped me. Long years passed, I wandered hither and thither, toSpain, back to Mexico, and elsewhere, but wherever I went my fear,the ghosts of the dead, and my dreams went with me, and I was neverfortunate. Only the other day I joined the company of Diaz as anadventurer. Not till we reached the City of Pines did I learn that youwere the captain of the Otomie; it was said that you were long dead. Youknow the rest.'

  'Why did you murder my son, cousin?'

  'Was he not of your mother's blood, of the blood that should bring mydoom upon me, and did I owe you no reward for all the terrors of thesemany years? Moreover he is foolish who strives to slay the father andspares the son. He is dead and I am glad that I killed him, though hehaunts me now with the 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 uponmine, as I have seen a rat do when a snake is about to swallow it. Nowwe were upon the edge of the crater, and looking over I saw an awfulsight. For there, some thirty feet beneath us, the red-hot lava glowingsullenly beneath a shifting pall of smoke, rolled and spouted like athing alive. Jets of steam flew upwards from it with a screaming sound,lines of noxious vapours, many-coloured, crept and twisted on itssurface, and a hot and horrid stench poisoned the heated air. Hereindeed was such a gate as I could wish for de Garcia
to pass through tohis own abode.

  I looked, pointed with my sword, and laughed; he looked and shriekedaloud, for now all his manhood had left him, so great was his terror ofwhat lay beyond the end. Yes, this proud and haughty Spaniard screamedand wept and prayed for mercy; he who had done so many villanies beyondforgiveness, prayed for mercy that he might find time to repent. I stoodand watched him, and so dreadful was his aspect that horror struck meeven through the calm of my frozen heart.

  'Come, it is time to finish,' I said, and again I lifted my sword, onlyto 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 cameback to him, and he began to fight, but not with ME.

  He seemed to perceive me no more, but nevertheless he fought, anddesperately, thrusting at the empty air. It was terrible to see himthus doing battle with his invisible foes, and to hear his screams andcurses, as inch by inch they drove him back to the edge of thecrater. Here he stood a while, like one who makes a last stand againstoverpowering strength, thrusting and striking furiously. Twice he nearlyfell, as though beneath a mortal wound, but recovering himself, foughton with Nothingness. Then, with a sharp cry, suddenly he threw his armswide, as a man does who is pierced through the heart; his sword droppedfrom his hand, and he fell backwards into the pit.

  I turned away my eyes, for I wished to see no more; but often I havewondered Who or What it was that dealt de Garcia his death wound.