The Infidel; or, the Fall of Mexico. Vol. I.

by Robert Montgomery Bird

  CHAPTER XIV.

  When Ovid describes the memorable encounter between Perseus and thegreat sea-monster of Ethiopia, he is at the pains to narrate with whatfury the creature _snapped at the shadow_ of the flying hero,--acircumstance of trivial importance in itself, though both striking andcharacteristic; nay, he even relates how the warrior, at the first sightof the fair Andromeda, chained to the rock, and waiting to be devoured,was so moved with admiration that he forgot, for an instant, to flap hiswings,--another detail of more fitness than moment. Thus stooping to theconsideration of trifles, the poet does not scruple entirely to pass bymatters of the most palpable consequence. He disdains, for example, totell us even whether the monster _died_ or not in the encounter, leavingthat to be inferred; and, in like manner, he scorns even to answer thequestion that might have been anticipated, namely, _why_ Perseus, like asensible soldier, did not whip out his gorgon's head, instead of his'crooked sword,' and, by turning the beast into stone, save himself thetrouble of despatching him with his steel.

  The writer of historical works, like the present, must claim theprivilege of the poet, and be allowed, while expatiating on events ofinterest so inferior that they have been almost rejected by hispredecessors, to leave many others of manifest importance to besupplied, not indeed by the imagination, but by the learning of thereader. Our only desire is to follow the adventures of two individuals,so obscure and so unfortunate, that the worthy and somewhatover-conscientious Bernal Diaz del Castillo has despatched the wholehistory of the first in the few vague fragments which we have prefixedto the story; while he has scrupulously abstained from saying a singleword of the second.

  If the reader will turn to the pages of this conscientious historian, ofDe Solis, or of Clavigero, he will be made acquainted with the stirringexploits of the eight or nine weeks that followed after the arrest ofJuan Lerma. In this time, the Captain-General, at the head of all theSpaniards, save those who were left in garrison at Tezcuco, and the fewsailors and shipwrights who remained in the dock-yards, to preside overIndian artificers, compelled to work at the brigantines--in this time,we say, and at the head of this force, assisted by many thousandTlascalans, Cortes commenced and completed the circuit of the wholevalley, storming and burning cities and towns without number, resistedvaliantly in all that were not disaffected, and sometimes, as at thecity of Tacuba, repulsed with great loss and no little dishonour. Thewhole campaign abounds with singular and exciting incidents, of which,however, it does not suit our purpose to mention any but one, and thatalmost in a word. At the city of Xochimilco, or the Garden of Flowers,(for this is the signification of the word,) where the resistance wassanguinary and noble, though, in the end, ineffectual, Cortes waswounded, surrounded, struck down from his horse, which was killed, andhe himself, for a moment, a prisoner; and he owed his life and libertyonly to the extraordinary valour of Gaspar Olea of the Red Beard, who,with the help of a few resolute Tlascalans, succeeded in bringing himoff. The aid thus rendered by Olea was the more remarkable, since, fromthe moment of Juan's arrest, he had become sullen, morose, and wassometimes even charged to be mutinous. In this last imputation, however,as far as it implied any treasonable thoughts or practices, the rudeGaspar was wronged. His dissatisfaction was caused solely by the falland anticipated fate of his young captain. The heinousness of Juan'scrime--the drawing his sword upon an officer in the execution of hisduty, as Guzman had been, and, worse yet, the aiming of that at thebreast of the General--had left it, apparently, impossible to beforgiven. It was universally expected that Juan would expiate the crimewith his life; and the only wonder was, that he had not been immediatelytried, condemned, and executed. His destiny was therefore anticipatedwith more curiosity than doubt, and apparently with less pity thaneither. Gaspar did not attempt to deny Juan's guilt; but when heremembered the sufferings and perils they had shared together, his heartburned with fury, to think how soon the brave and well-beloved youthshould die the death of a caitiff. His dissatisfaction expended itselfin anger towards the Captain-General; and hence the surprise of hiscomrades at his act of daring and generosity. But Gaspar had his ownends in view, when he saved the life of Cortes.

  It was now many weeks since his arrest, and Juan yet lay inimprisonment, ignorant not so much of his fate, as of the causes whichdelayed it. On the fourth day of his captivity, he was apprized, by thesound of trumpets and artillery, the cries of men, and the neighing ofhorses, and, in general, by the prodigious bustle which accompanies thesetting-out of an army from a populous city, that some enterprise wasmeditated and begun; but of its character he was kept wholly ignorant.The custody of his person seemed to be committed to Villafana and thehunchback Najara, conjointly; but it was observable, that, althoughNajara frequently entered his den alone, Villafana never made hisappearance without being accompanied by the Corcobado.

  From Najara he gained not a word of intelligence, the hunchback everreplying to his questions with scowls, or with pithy sarcasms inallusion to the crimes of treason and mutiny. From Villafana, attended,and, as it seemed to Juan, watched, by the jealous Najara, he obtainednothing but unmeaning nods of the head, and sometimes looks, toosignificant to be doubted, and yet too oraculous to be understood.

  After the first fortnight, Villafana failed to visit him altogether, andhe saw not the face of a human being, except once each morning, whenNajara was accustomed to make his appearance, followed by an Indianslave, bearing food and a jar of water. With this latter being, adecrepit old man, on whose naked shoulder was imprinted the horribleletter G, (for _guerra_, indicating that he was a prisoner of war,--inother words, a branded bondman,) he endeavoured to speak, using all thenative dialects with which he was acquainted; but, though Najara made nooffer to prevent such conversation, the barbarian replied only bytouching his ear and then his breast, signifying thereby that, though heheard the words, he did not understand them. Though Najara permittedthese little attempts at speech, with contemptuous indifference, Juanperceived that he ever kept his eyes fastened upon the Indian, as if toprevent any effort at communication of another sort. Thus, if anybenevolent friend had endeavoured to convey a message by letter orotherwise, it was apparent that Najara took the best steps to insure itsmiscarriage.

  Foiled thus in every attempt to exchange thoughts with a fellow-being,and reduced to commune only with his own, the unhappy prisoner ceased,at last, to make any effort; and, yielding gradually to a despair thatwas not the less consuming for being entirely without complaint, hebegan, in the end, to be indifferent even to the coming and presence ofhis jailer, neither rising to meet him, nor even lifting his eyes fromthe floor, on which they were fixed with a lethargic dejection.

  He became also indifferent to his food; and once, when Najara entered,he perceived that the water-jar, the dish of _tortillas_, ormaize-cakes, the savoury wild-fowl, and the fragrant _chocolatl_, (forin regard to food, he was liberally supplied,) stood upon the littletable, where they had been placed the day before, untasted and evenuntouched. He cast his eyes upon the youth, and, for the first time,began to feel a sentiment of pity for his condition. Indeed, the noblefigure of the young man was beginning to waste away; his cheeks werehollow, his neglected beard was springing uncouthly over his lips, andhis sunken eyes drooped upon the earth, as if never more to gleam withthe light of hope and pleasure. The hunchback hesitated for a moment,and then growled out a few words,--the first he had uttered for a week.But these, though commiseration prompted them, he succeeded in makingexpressive only of scorn or anger.

  "Hark you, senor Juan Lerma," he said, "do you mean to starve?"

  At the sound of his voice, so unusual and so unexpected, the young manraised his eyes, but with a vague, wo-begone look, and answered nothing.

  "I say, senor," continued Najara, somewhat more blandly, "is it yourwill to die by starvation rather than in any other way?"

  "Ah, Najara! is it thou?" said Juan, rising feebly, or indolently, tohis feet. "Heaven give you a good-morrow."

  "Pshaw!" returned the jailer, gruf
fly; "pray me no such prayers: keepthem for yourself. I ask you, if it be your purpose to starve yourselfto death, out of a mere unsoldierly fear of hanging?"

  "Thou hast not said so much to me, I know not when," replied the youth,not with any intention of shuffling off the question, but speaking ofwhat was uppermost in his mind. His voice was very mild, and Najara, byno means without his weaker points, felt it as a reproach.

  "I care not," he replied, "if I answer you any two or three questions,that may be nearest to your heart. But first give me to know, whereforeyou have eaten nothing? Are you sick?"

  "Surely I am, at heart; but, bodily, I am well."

  "And you are not resolute to die of hunger, before thejudgment-day?--Pho, if you have that spirit, perhaps it were better. Butit is a death of great torment.--Yet, why should one be afraid of theshame? 'Tis nothing, when we are dead."

  "Is this thy fear then?" said Juan, patiently. "It is not permitted usto commit suicide in any form. I will eat, to satisfy thee; but food isbitter in prison."

  "What a pity," muttered Najara, as Juan ate a morsel of food, "thatheaven should give thee such a goodly and godlike body, and such a bravesoul, (for, o' my life, I believe thou art entirely without fear,) andyet make thee a madman and traitor!"

  "A traitor!" said Juan, without taking any offence, for, indeed, heseemed to have been robbed of all the fire of his spirit. "It is notpossible anybody can believe me a traitor."

  "Pho! did I not, with mine own eyes, see thee lunge at Cortes? It isbase of thee to deny it."

  "I do not deny it," said Juan; adding, vehemently, "but I call heaven towitness, I saw not his face, and knew him not. He may persecute me todeath, as I believe he is doing. Yet could I do him no wrong; no, I_think_, I could not.--But it is bitter, to feel we are trampled on!"

  "Well, senor, it is better you should be in a passion than a trance. Butbe not utterly without hope. If you can truly make it appear you knewnot the general, it is thought by one or two, you may be pardoned. Ihave talked with Guzman; and I think he may be brought to forgive andeven intercede for you."

  "I will neither receive _his_ forgiveness nor his intercession," saidJuan, frowning. "And I wonder you mention to me his detested name."

  "Oh, senor!" said Najara, sharply, "you may choose your own friends, andhunt them again among heathen Indians.--That you should sell your lifefor this dog of a noble!--Fare you well, senor, fare you well."

  "Stay, Najara," said Juan, following him towards the door: "you said youwould answer me such questions as were nearest my heart. Give not overthe kindly thought. There are many things, which if I knew, my lot wouldnot be so hard, my dungeon not so killing to my spirit. The army isgone--is Mexico invested?"

  "Not so," replied the hunchback; "it has a month or two's graceyet.--The troops have marched against the shore-towns.--But for this madfit, thou mightst have been with them, or making thyself famous atTochtepec!"

  Juan sighed heavily.

  "And the Indian, of whom you spoke,--the young noble,--Olin the orator,"he demanded, at first, not without hesitation.

  "Oh, the cur," replied Najara; "I think Cortes was even as mad asthyself, touching the knave. But wit is like a river, sometimes toofull, washing away its own banks--it may be said to drown itself.--Hemade the dog his ambassador, swore him to return faithfully fromGuatimozin, and waited three days for him in vain. Such rogues are likearrows,--good weapons, when you have the cast of them, but not to beexpected in hand again, unless shot back by a foeman."

  It was fortunate, perhaps, that Najara had relaxed so far from hisausterity as to resume the vein of metaphor common to his softermoments. Had he been as observant as usual, he must have been struckwith suspicion at the sudden gleam of satisfaction, with which Juanheard the good fortune of the Mexican. But he marked it not.

  "Tell me now," said Juan, "how thou comest to be my jailer; and why itis that Villafana seems to have given up his trust to thee?"

  At this question, Najara's good-humour immediately vanished, and hereplied, sourly,

  "Oh, content you, you shall be in good keeping."

  "I doubt it not," said Juan, calmly. "But Villafana is, or methinks heis, more friendly to me than you. I did but desire to know what changeshad taken place in the government of the city, from the watchman up tothe commandant, since my imprisonment."

  "Ay, indeed!" replied Najara, grimly: "such changes, that hadst thoufifty friends waiting to aid thee, thou shouldst be caught, beforegetting twenty steps from the door. Know then, that I am made Alguazil,as well as Villafana; and what is more, I am captain of the prison. TheAlcalde is Antonio de Quinones, master of the armory; and the Corregidorof the city is thy good friend Guzman,--an honour thou gavest him, byhacking his face so freely, and so leaving him in the hospital."

  "You speak to me in sarcasm," said Juan, mildly: "I have not deservedit. And methinks you should be more generous of temper, than to oppresswith words of insult, a fallen and helpless man.--Well, heed it not--Iforgive you. I have but one more question to ask you.--The lady,--thislady, La Monjonaza--"

  "Ay!" cried Najara, with singular bitterness, "I have heard of that too.You were seen talking with her in the garden. You will play chambererwith Cortes! ay, and rival too! Pho, canst thou not be at peace? Meddlewith the general's fancy. Why that were enough to hang thee. I had somesoft thoughts of thee; but everything shows thou art unworthy. Farewell;think of these things no more; but repent and make your peace withheaven."

  So saying, the hunchback flung out of the room, and securing the thickdoor of plank, Juan was again left to his meditations.