The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “But whatever happens, I shall take no further part in it. I have fought by the side of the Aztecs against my own countrymen. I have done my best to save our nation from falling under the dominion of the Spaniards. I shall retire now to my estates, and devote myself to them. Cortez has given me a paper, signed by him, saying that I, although fighting against him, saved the life of a Spanish prisoner, who was the only one of those captured who escaped being sacrificed; and that, therefore, he orders all Spaniards to treat me with kindness and consideration, and confirms to me and my heirs, to all time, the possession of my estates free from all takes or imposts whatever. Malinche obtained this document from him, and has induced the treasurer and chamberlain, also, to affix their seals to it; and she says that it will be undoubtedly respected.

  “As you know, Roger, I should long ago have married my cousin, who was one of Maclutha’s ladies in waiting; but we deferred it until these troubles should be over. I have been to Tezcuco today, and we shall be married at the end of the week; so that I have every hope of leading a quiet and happy life, and think that, in the end, these troubles will tend to the happiness of the people of the country. As a Tezcucan, I can acknowledge that the Aztec tyranny was a heavy one, that the people were sorely oppressed. The wholesale sacrifices at the temples, now abolished forever, were the cause of constant wars; and I think that when the Spaniards once overcome all resistance, and establish a firm and stable government, the people will be happier than they ever could have been under the Aztec rule.

  “What has become of Bathalda?”

  “He accompanied us here, and then went off to your estates; saying that he should collect a few of his friends and occupy your house, to see that none took advantage of the troubles to plunder it. I recommend him to your care, Cuitcatl.”

  “There is no occasion to do that, Roger. He has been a faithful servant and friend, and shall in future be my right hand.”

  The next morning Malinche came to say farewell to them.

  “How much has taken place, in the last four years, Roger!” she said. “Then, I was a slave girl. You were a captive in a strange country. What scenes we have passed through since then!

  “I am sorry, indeed, that you are going, Roger,” and the tears came into her eyes; “you were my first friend, and I have loved you ever since, as a brother. I shall miss you sorely, indeed. However, I know that you and Amenche will be happy together.

  “Princess, I have something of yours,” and she held up a heavy girdle.

  Amenche gave a cry of joy.

  “I missed it,” she said, “but I thought that it must have fallen off in the boat, or as Roger carried me thence to the castle.

  “See, Roger,” she said, holding it out to them, “this is my dowry. I told you I should not come to you a penniless bride, but I have thought lately that I was mistaken. Maclutha, when she died, gave me all the jewels we carried away from the treasure room at Tezcuco. I selected all the most valuable ones, and sewed them into this broad girdle, which I put on under my things on the night when you escaped. Its loss has grieved me, though you have said that the two little bags you have, already, would suffice to make you rich. Still, they were Maclutha’s, and I wanted to give you mine; but I could not think what had become of the belt.”

  “I found it on you, Amenche, when we loosened your robe to examine your wound; and put it by to give to you or Roger, whichever might recover; and now I am glad to hand it over, as your joint property. I have already returned Roger his own two little bags, that he had given me to take care of.

  “And now, farewell to you both. You will think of me, sometimes, in your distant home in England?”

  And Malinche, bursting into tears, hurried away.

  The journey to the coast was an easy one, as the sick were all transported on litters, carried by native porters. The bracing air of the high land did much to restore the strength of the sick men, who had been suffering much from the terrible heat of the valley. The officer in command of the convoy halted them for a week on the Tlascalan plateau, in order that they might get the full benefit of the cool air; and by the time they reached the coast, and were carried on board ship, Roger felt his strength fast returning.

  A comfortable cabin was assigned to him and Amenche, as Cortez had, at Malinche’s request, written a letter specially commending them to the care of the officer in command of the ship. The voyage to Spain was a long one and, before the vessel arrived at Cadiz, Roger and Amenche were completely restored to health and strength.

  Roger’s success, indeed, had been beyond his wildest hopes. The two bags of jewels, and those which Amenche had brought away with her, would suffice to make him a very rich man. He had, too, an assortment of the finest Mexican stuffs, which Malinche had given him as a special present for his friends at home; and he had a bar of gold, of the value of a thousand pounds, which was his share (as one of Cortez’s bodyguard) of the gold found at the capture of the capital.

  He had learned, from a vessel which was spoken as they neared Spain, that England and Spain were in alliance against France; and he had no doubt, therefore, that he should find English ships at Cadiz. His heart was gladdened, as the vessel entered the port, by seeing the English flag flying on several vessels in harbor.

  As soon as Roger and his companions landed, they were surrounded by an eager crowd, all anxious to learn more of the capture of Mexico; of which a swift vessel, sent off as soon as the city fell, had brought news six weeks earlier; and Roger had to tell the story of the siege a dozen times over.

  As soon as he could get free from the crowd, he went to a money changer’s, and obtained Spanish gold in exchange for his bar. Then he purchased, at a clothier’s, a suit of garments of Spanish fashion and, putting these on, was able to move about without attracting observation.

  Amenche did not disembark until after nightfall, but Roger’s first care after landing was to purchase a chestful of garments, fit for a Spanish lady of rank, and to send them out to the vessel. Having sent these off, he made his way down to the port and, inquiring among the sailors, found that an English ship would sail on the following day.

  Hiring a boat, he went on board. He determined to maintain his character as a Spaniard to the last, as he would thereby avoid all questions; and it was, accordingly, in that language that he arranged for a passage for himself and his wife, the captain taking him for a Spanish gentleman having business with the Court in London.

  Having settled this, Roger returned on board and, late in the evening, was rowed with Amenche to the English ship, which was to sail early the next morning. The wind was favorable, and the ship made a quick passage. The captain and sailors amused Roger by their comments on his appearance. Never, they agreed, had they seen a Spaniard of such size and strength before.

  “He stands six feet three, if he is an inch,” an old sailor said, “and he is as broad as any man I ever saw. He is never a bit like a Spaniard in appearance, with his blue eyes and light brown hair. If you were to put him in good English broadcloth, and teach him to talk like a Christian, no one would dream he was other than an Englishman. The Spaniards generally have solemn faces, but this chap looks as if he could laugh and joke with the best of us. One could almost swear that he understood what I am saying, now.”

  Roger was several times tempted to say that he did understand, but he kept his counsel.

  As soon as they landed, near London Bridge, they went to an inn; and when the sailors who had carried his trunk for him had left, he addressed the landlord in English.

  “Can you direct me to a clothier, where I can obtain suitable clothes?” he said. “I have been staying in Spain and, having been wrecked and lost all my outfit, had to rig myself in Spanish fashion. I also wish to purchase clothing of English fashion for my wife.”

  “I thought you were an Englishman, by your looks,” the landlord said; “though the fashion of your clothes was altogether foreign, and you speak, too, with a strange accent.”

  For indeed
, Roger found the English words come with difficulty; after having, for nearly six years, spoken nothing but Mexican and Spanish.

  “I have been some time away,” he said; “and have been talking with the Spaniards until I have well-nigh forgotten my own tongue.”

  Two hours later, he was attired in the fashion of a well-to-do merchant; and Amenche made, as he told her, the prettiest wife merchant ever had. They stayed for a week in London, Amenche being greatly amused and interested in all she saw. At the end of that time, having purchased a stout horse, and a sword to defend himself against any robbers he might meet with on the way, Roger started to ride down to Plymouth, with Amenche behind him on a pillion.

  Six days after leaving London they entered the town, and Roger, having seen Amenche comfortably bestowed at the principal inn, took his way to the house of Master Diggory Beggs. The latter was in his shop, and came forward, bowing, as Roger entered it.

  “What can I do for you today, good sir?” he said. “I have goods of all sorts and kinds: Italian work and Spanish; silks, and satins, and velvets.”

  “I would have a talk with you alone, Master Beggs. I am the bearer of a message from an old friend of yours. If you will grant me a few minutes’ talk, we may do business together.”

  “By all means,” the merchant said, thinking that such an introduction offered some important transactions. “Will you be good enough to follow me?” and he led the way upstairs.

  Dame Mercy was sitting at work with her youngest daughter when they entered the room, Diggory saying:

  “Please to leave, Dame. This gentleman and I have business of importance to discuss together.”

  “There is no occasion for you to leave us,” Roger said. “My business is not so private but that you and Mistress Agnes may hear us.”

  “You know my daughter’s name!” Dame Beggs exclaimed, in surprise.

  “The gentleman comes with a message from an old friend of ours,” Diggory said; “and has doubtless heard him mention our daughter’s name.”

  “And Dorothy,” Roger asked; “she is well, I hope.”

  “My eldest daughter was married, three months since,” Dame Mercy replied.

  Roger gave an exclamation of satisfaction.

  “And so none of you know me?” he asked. “And yet, you are but little changed; except that Mistress Agnes has grown into a young woman, whereas she was but a child when I parted from her.”

  Diggory Beggs and his wife gazed at Roger in astonishment. Agnes stood up, with her hands tightly clasped together.

  “It is Roger,” she cried. “Oh, mother! It is Roger, come back to us.”

  “I am Roger, sure enough, aunt,” he said, stooping and kissing her; and then shaking hands with his uncle, and kissing Agnes.

  “And your father,” Diggory asked, “and the Swan?”

  “It is a sad story,” Roger said. “A very sad story, uncle. Six years ago, the Swan was wrecked on the coast of Tabasco; and every soul, save myself, lost.”

  It was a blow for Diggory Beggs. He had, indeed, long since given up all hope of ever seeing his cousin Reuben, or of obtaining any return for the capital he had embarked on the Swan; but the sight of Roger had, for a moment, raised his hopes that the venture had, after all, been productive. However, he speedily recovered himself.

  “I am grieved to hear it, Roger, though in no ways surprised. For two years we looked for your return; but we have all, long since, given up hope, and written off our shares in the Swan as lost money. I am sorry for Reuben, very sorry, for I loved him like a brother.

  “Well, well, do not let us talk about it, now. You are restored to us, safe and sound; and though the loss was a heavy one, and crippled me for a time, I have got over it.

  “Now, tell us what have you been doing, ever since. And by what miracle have you returned, safe and sound?”

  “It is a long story, uncle. A very long story. But before I begin it, I may tell you that, though the ship and its venture were lost, I myself have returned by no means penniless; and can, indeed, repay to the full all the money expended upon the Swan and her outfit.

  “Now I want you all to come round with me to the inn, for there I have left a lady whom I would fain introduce to you.”

  “Your wife?” Mistress Mercy cried. “You don’t say you have brought home a wife, Roger?”

  “That do I, aunt. She is a princess, in her own country; but what is much better, she is the dearest of women, and all but gave her life to save mine.”

  Mistress Mercy looked grave, and was about to speak, when Roger interrupted her.

  “I know what you are about to say, aunt. The thought of having a foreign woman for your niece is shocking to you. Never mind, leave it unsaid, until you have seen her.

  “But as we go, let us call in and see Dorothy, and take her on with us. I should wish her to be one of the first to welcome my wife.”

  Dorothy was as astonished as the others had been, when they arrived at her house with Roger; and cast a meaning glance at him, when she heard that he had brought home a wife.

  “I know what you are thinking of, Dorothy—our parting on the hoe.”

  Dorothy laughed.

  “I meant it when I said it, Dorothy, and meant it for a good time afterwards. It was only when it seemed that I should never come back again that I fell in love with some one else; and when you have heard my story, and know what she did for me, and how much I owe her, and come to love her for herself, you won’t blame me.”

  “I don’t blame you one bit, Roger,” she said, frankly. “When you went away, we thought we cared for each other; but of course we were only boy and girl then, and when I grew up and you did not come home, and it seemed that you never would come home, as you say, I fell in love with someone else.

  “And now I will put on my hood, and come round and see your wife. What is her name?”

  “Her name is Amenche,” Roger said; “and Amenche I mean to call her. When she was christened—for of course she had to be christened before we were married—Father Olmedo said she must have a Christian name, and christened her Caterina; but for all that her name is Amenche, and we mean to stick to it.

  “But come along; she has been an hour alone in this strange place, already, and must begin to think that I have run away from her.”

  Dorothy and Agnes were at once won by the soft beauty of the dark-skinned princess; and when, that evening, Roger told the story of all that had taken place in Mexico, Dame Mercy’s last prejudice vanished, and she took Amenche in her arms and kissed her tenderly.

  “My dear,” she said, “Roger has always been as a son to me, and henceforth you will be as one of my daughters.”

  As to Diggory, his delight and satisfaction were almost too great for words. He was overjoyed that Roger had returned, vastly gratified that the money he expended on the Swan was to be repaid, and greatly captivated by Amenche.

  The princess could speak but a few words of English, for Roger had been afraid to commence her tuition in that language until they were safely in England: but she was greatly pleased with the welcome she received; and began, for the first time, to feel that someday she might come to regard this strange country as home.

  There was a long talk, between Roger and his uncle, as to the steps that should be taken. It was agreed that, now Spain and England were so closely allied, it would be imprudent in the extreme to allow it to become known that the Swan had sailed for the Western Indies, or that Roger had obtained wealth there; for if it came to the ears of the Court—and such strange news would travel fast—it might well be that a ruinous fine might be imposed upon all concerned in the matter. Therefore, it was arranged that nothing whatever should be said about it; but that it should be given out that the Swan had been wrecked in foreign parts; and that Roger, who had been sole survivor of the wreck, had settled abroad and made money there, and had married a foreign lady.

  More than that, it would be unnecessary to tell. The gems could be sent over, a few at a time, t
o Amsterdam; and there sold to merchants who would care nothing whence they came; and the partners of Diggory Beggs, in the venture of the Swan, would be only too glad to receive their money back again, and to ask no questions as to how it had been obtained. And so matters were carried out.

  For some months, Roger remained in nominal partnership with his uncle; and then bought a large estate, a few miles out of the town, where he set up as a country gentleman. He was, for a time, somewhat shyly looked upon by the magistrates of the county, who deemed it an unheard-of thing for a Plymouth merchant thus to settle among them; but in time he was accepted, especially after it became known that, when he went up to town, he held his place among the highest there, and kept a state and expenditure equal to that of many of the nobles.

  His wife was remarkable, not only for her beauty, but for the richness of her jewels, many of which were fashioned in a way such as had never before been seen at the English Court. As time went on, and the relations between England and Spain grew cold, there was no longer any occasion for secrecy; and little by little it became known that the Swan had sailed to the Spanish main, that Roger had formed one of the conquering band of Cortez, and that Amenche was not a Spaniard but an Aztec Princess. This caused a great talk at the time, and added much to the consideration in which Roger was held. He took a leading position in the country and, many years after, fitted out two ships at his own cost to fight against the Spanish Armada.

  Happily, Amenche’s health never suffered from the change to the comparatively cold climate of Devonshire. She bore Roger several children, and to this day many of the first families in Devonshire are proud that there runs in their veins the blood of the Aztec princess.

  THROUGH RUSSIAN SNOWS [Part 1]

  A STORY OF NAPOLEON’S RETREAT FROM MOSCOW

  PREFACE

  There are few campaigns that, either in point of the immense scale upon which it was undertaken, the completeness of its failure, or the enormous loss of life entailed, appeal to the imagination in so great a degree as that of Napoleon against Russia. Fortunately, we have in the narratives of Sir Robert Wilson, British commissioner with the Russian army, and of Count Segur, who was upon Napoleon’s staff, minute descriptions of the events as seen by eye-witnesses, and besides these the campaign has been treated fully by various military writers. I have as usual avoided going into details of horrors and of acts of cruelty and ferocity on both sides, surpassing anything in modern warfare, and have given a mere outline of the operations, with a full account of the stern fight at Smolensk and the terrible struggle at Borodino. I would warn those of my readers who may turn to any of the military works for a further history of the campaign, that the spelling of Russian places and names varies so greatly in the accounts of different writers, that sometimes it is difficult to believe that the same person or town is meant, and even in the narratives by Sir Robert Wilson, and by Lord Cathcart, our ambassador at St. Petersburg, who was in constant communication with him, scarcely a name will be found similarly spelt. I mention this, as otherwise much confusion might be caused by those who may compare my story with some of these recognized authorities, or follow the incidents of the campaign upon maps of Russia.