He paused in strong emotion, and Camarga, drawing the mantle closer round his head, continued:
"Know, (and I speak thee a truth never before divulged to mortal man,) that the sin of this act, – the abduction of a devotee, whose novitiate was already accomplished, – belongs not to Juan, the debauchee, but to Gregorio, the Dominican."
"These are the words of a madman," said Cortes, sternly; but he was interrupted by Camarga hastily exclaiming,
"Misunderstand me not. The lover and the convent-robber was indeed Juan; but it was Gregorio who provoked him to the outrage, and gave him the means of success. The sacrilege had not been otherwise attempted, and the fickle-minded Juan would have soon forgotten the object of a passion both criminal and dangerous."
"If you speak the truth," said Cortes, "you have exposed an atrocity, of which, as you said, truly no man ever dreamed. On what improbable ground do you make Gregorio a villain so monstrous?"
"On that of
knowledge
," replied Camarga, with a voice firmer than he had yet displayed. "Dost thou think ambition lies not as often under a cowl as a corslet? or that guilt can only be meditated by a soldier? When the young monk Gregorio beheld the two sons of his brother, the Count Sebastian, taken up dead from the river, into which an evil accident had plunged them, and knew that the Count was dying – surely dying – of a broken heart, the fiend of darkness put a thought into his brain, which had never before dishonoured it. Yet it slumbered again, until his evil fate showed him his brother Juan, meditating a crime, which, if attempted, must bring him under the ban of the church, and into the dungeons of the Inquisition. Then he said, in his heart, 'If Sebastian die of grief, childless, and if Juan destroy himself by an act of impiety, where shall men look for the Count of Castillejo, except in the cell of Gregorio?' It was this thought of darkness that brought the thunderbolt upon his house, and upon thine."
"Ay! thou sayst it now," said Cortes with a smothered voice. "But this monk, this devil, this Gregorio! Let me know more of the wretch, whose flagitious ambition, not satisfied with destroying his father's house and his brother's soul, must end by bringing to a dishonourable grave a daughter – I speak it
now
– a daughter of Martin Cortes of Medellin!"
"It is spoken in a word; but let the iniquitous details be forgotten. The power of Gregorio, unknown even to Juan, (for the connivance was concealed and unsuspected,) opened the doors of the convent, and the lovers fled, were united in marriage, and then parted for ever."
"United? married? Now by heavens, thou mockest me! Even this had been some mitigation of our shame. But it is not true. Why dost thou say it?"
"Thou wert deceived – all were deceived," said Camarga; "nay, even the scheming Gregorio was deceived; for before he had dreamed that such a fatal blow could be given to his ambition, the knot was tied, and the children of Juan became the heirs of Sebastian. Behold how treachery overshoots its mark! Gregorio opened a path, that the lovers might meet, not that they might escape. This was reserved until the time when the vows should be taken; after which the crime of abduction and flight could not be pardoned. They fled a day too early, and it was within the power of Sebastian to obtain both a pardon and dispensation; for Juan was now his heir, in the place of his children."
"Good heavens!" cried Cortes, "was this indeed possible? But no; thou deceivest me. Had the offence been so venial, Juan Castillejo had not perished among the vaults of the Inquisition."
"Canst thou compass thine own vindictive purposes, and attribute no similar power to others?" cried Camarga, with a laugh, that sounded hollow and unnatural under the mantle. "Did a venial offence, or a malignant and perfidious stratagem, drive Juan Lerma among the pagans of Mexico? – Listen: – Juan Castillejo was dragged from his hiding-place, and that perhaps the earlier, that Gregorio knew of their marriage. The crime of carrying off a novice was not indeed inexpiable, but it demanded a deep cell in the office of the Brotherhood; and such Juan obtained. Now, Cortes, ask not for reasons to explain the acts of Gregorio. The dying Sebastian exerted his powers to save his brother, and would have succeeded, had not Gregorio, visiting the dungeons, in virtue of his office, subtly attacked the prisoner's mind with the fear of torture and final condemnation; until, in a fit of distraction, he laid violent hands upon himself, and so ended a tragedy, for which Gregorio designed another catastrophe. Ay, believe me! Think not that even Gregorio planned out a climax so cruel. He desired only to work upon Juan's terrors, in order to banish him from the land for ever; for it was his purpose to provide him with the means of escape, when this was accomplished. He foresaw not the consequences of the desperation he had produced. Upon the morrow, Sebastian came with an indulgence – almost a pardon. The shock of the spectacle of Juan's dead body, broke away the last feeble cords that bound him to life; and Gregorio, absolved from his vows by the papal dispensation, easily obtained, was now the Count of Castillejo."
"And never sat in the castle-hall a fiend more truculent and diabolic!" cried Cortes, with terrific emphasis. "Hark thee, man, demon, or whatsoever thou art – I did think thee, at first, the very wretched Juan of whom thou hast spoken, escaped by some miracle, and finding the fiercest retribution for his villany, in the misery of his children. I remembered thy words at Tezcuco, and was thus deluded. But I know thee at last, and words cannot express how much I abhor thee."
"We are alike worthy of detestation," said Camarga, rising and flinging back his cowl, "for we are alike villains, – with but this difference between us, that I have preceded thee in the path of remorse, and must perhaps tread it more bitterly, because in all things, self-deluded and baffled. I am what thou thinkest, – the wretched Gregorio – and yet less wretched than when I first discovered the twin children of my brother in thy house at Tezcuco. – Hearken yet a moment, and I have done. All supposed that the unhappy Olivia had cast herself into the river, and so perished. It was not so. Pity, remorse, or some other feeling – perhaps, policy – induced me to preserve her from her distraction. She lived in concealment, until she had given birth to twin children – these very wretches whom we have persecuted. Let me speak their fate in a word. The boy I sent by a creature whose name he bears, to Colon's settlement in Española; the girl I devoted from her infancy to the altar; and in both cases, dreamed that I had provided for their welfare, as well as against the possibility of discovery. When I had thus arranged everything for my own security, heaven sent me the first sting of retribution in the person of my brother Julian, returned in safety from the dungeons of Fez, and, in right of seniority, the heir of the honours I had so vainly usurped. It was a fitting reward, but it was not all. Dishonour, other crimes, and awakened suspicions, followed my downfall; and I became an exile and outcast. What life I have lived, it needs not I should speak. A strange accident acquainted me with the stranger truth, that Magdalena had followed her unknown brother to the islands. I had amassed wealth; and an impulse, combining both pity and foreboding terror, drove me to pursue them. It was easy to trace out their respective fates. The wreck of the ship which carried Magdalena, with the supposed loss of all on board, satisfied me that she was with her mother, in heaven. An unexpected event had invested Juan with new interest. This was the death of Julian, without heirs. It was in my power to repair, at least, the wrongs I had done him, by restoring him to his inheritance; the knowledge and proofs of his legitimacy were in my hands, and I resolved to employ them. This I could not do in mine own person, but I discovered – and know, señor, it filled me with joy, – that
thou
hadst befriended him. I came then to Mexico, to seek the young man, and to enable thee to do justice to the memory, and to the child of thy sister."
Gregorio, for so we must now call him, paused a moment, while Cortes strode to and fro, in great agitation. He then resumed:
"The first thing I heard was the supposed death of Juan, – his expedition, and the cause of it – thine own bitter and unrelenting hatred."
"It is true," said Cortes, with a vain effort at composed utterance. "I confessed my folly to thee before. I have persecuted the son of my sister almost to death, and for an imaginary crime. There were villains about me – I will tell thee, by and by, my delusion."
"Señor," continued Gregorio, "I found in thy camp a villain, whose subtle and malicious nature was in harmony with my own. This was Villafana, whose representations of thy cruelty in the matter of Juan, stirred up my evil passions; and until the day when Juan returned, I was very eager to avenge his wrongs. Upon that day, I discovered that Magdalena was living. Now," he exclaimed, with vehemence, "thou mayst understand the cause of my seeming madness: now thou mayst know that the vengeance of heaven was punishing my old sin with lashes of horror. Thou knowest the evil slanders cast by the ribald soldiers upon thee, in relation to Magdalena. That dreadful suspicion was soon at an end; but there remained the other, the persuasion, supported by strong circumstances and by the malign averments of Villafana, – the dreadful, damning belief, that a horrible and unnatural sin, the direct consequence of my own, had plunged the brother and sister into a never-ending wretchedness. Ask not my feelings, when I made this supposed discovery. They caused me to seek the life of the unhappy brother, to attempt it with my own hands, and finally through thine; and all in a distraction, that mingled a thirst of vengeance with the precautions of pity. Thou knowest the rest: he was snatched out of our hands; and from Magdalena I discovered the blessed – the blissful truth, that heaven had not punished them for
my
sin! A course of extraordinary calamities, while it covered them with misery, yet kept them asunder. – But why should I trifle thus? The girl also was taken from me, and by the pagans, who left me on the lake-side weltering in blood. When I recovered speech and sense, I besought Guzman to send for you; nay, in my distracted impatience, being myself incapable of any effort beyond mere speech, I confided to him the secret of their birth – "
"Villain that he was, a double-dyed villain!" exclaimed Cortes, "this then accounts for his attempt upon your life, of which I had something more than mere suspicion to bring against him. I see it all now: exposure of a long series of malignant deceptions, must have followed the revealment, if it found the young Lerma – the young Castillejo, shall I say? – yet living. Is it not true? did he do you violence?"
"Not with his own hands," replied Gregorio; "nor can I say he really designed my death, not being able to communicate with the Indians, who dragged me by night from Tezcuco, carried me to the mountains, and finally took me back again, when Guzman was no longer the governor. But I doubt not, his intentions were evil."
"He has suffered for his crimes," said Cortes. – He strode to and fro for an instant, with hands clasped together, and a working visage. Then returning, and casting around a glance of suspicion, he said,
"Hark thee, Gregorio – If we save these unhappy creatures from death, thou shalt be forgiven, – ay, man, and honoured, too. I understand the motives that made thee mine ally in wickedness: now understand mine, – the persuasions of belief that converted me into a persecutor – the base and devilish persecutor, for such I was – of my sister's son – of my own flesh and blood. By heaven! I loved him dearly; nature spoke in my heart, – the instinct of consanguinity was alive within me; and even the lies of Guzman could not wholly destroy it. Velasquez the governor," he went on, "has fought me with all weapons, and with all in vain. Yet did he at last fall upon one, that was made to wound me to the quick, though it could not make me falter in this emprise of conquest. My lady, Gregorio, my lady!" he continued, struggling in vain against the feelings of humiliation, with which he confessed a weakness so unworthy; – "my lady Catalina is fair and merry, and, God wot, somewhat over fond of the gingling galliards that ruffle it at Santiago; and I, – by my conscience, I will be as honest as thou, – I have had the devil of suspicion sometimes enter my mind; but, I swear to thee, to mine own dishonour only. Upon this ground, Velasquez has thrust at me with hints, innuendos, sarcasms, jests, rumours, accusations, time without end. There has never a ship arrived, that it has not brought some petard to be shot off on my bosom; and sometimes, I think, I have been half mad with my dreams. Know, then, that one of these damnable devices was made to play in the person of my adopted son, – for such he was, – and my lady's favourite, Juan Lerma. My lady won him out of prison, and she harboured him during the sickness that followed. Out of this was constructed a story that tormented me. Yet it was naught, until Guzman penetrated the weakness, and wrought it, by I know not what means, into a fierce and fiendish jealousy. The young man was melancholy, too – he had killed his friend Hilario: but (heaven save me such madness again!) I deemed it the workings of his conscience, his sense of ingratitude, operating upon a temper, which, I knew, was naturally noble and virtuous. Thou canst not think how many little events were turned, by Guzman's malignant address, into proof and confirmation of my detestable suspicion. There came for him certain horses and arms, sent, as I quickly believed, by my wife, now bold in infidelity – "
"Alas!" said Gregorio; "I learned from Villafana, that these were the gifts of Magdalena, who, poor wretch, would have sent him her life, could that have been made an acceptable present."
"Thou makest my heart still lighter," said Cortes, "for this was the only matter I could not myself explain away, so soon as certain passages with Guzman had opened my eyes to his baseness. His oppressions forced me to withdraw him from Tezcuco; and, quarrelling with him upon that subject, as well as in regard to thine own fate, he let fall, in the heat of contention, certain unguarded expressions, which convinced me that he had made me his tool, – by heaven, Gregorio, his instrument! Suspicion once awake, my judgment once informed how much he had to gain, both of favour and revenge, by destroying my poor cornet, it needed but mine own reflections, to show me how ruthlessly I had been cajoled. And to crown all, a new light was shot into my soul, by the recovery, from an Indian princess, now a captive in my hands, of this trinket; which thou mayest know, if thou hast indeed ever looked upon the face of my sister."
He drew from his bosom the cross and rosary which Juan had flung round the neck of the Indian princess.
"I placed it," said Gregorio, "with mine own own hands upon the bosom of the infant Magdalena – But, good heaven, how came it on the neck of a savage, unless they have murdered her?'
"Fear not," said Cortes: "It was given to the princess by Juan Lerma – by Juan of Castillejo; and was doubtless presented to him by Magdalena, in the island. From this princess, I learned the first news of Magdalena, who was kindly treated by the young king, in his palace, for Juan's sake. Thou must know how this cross wrought upon my heart and brain; for I did myself give it to my sister, when they took me, but a boy, to see her in the convent. And as for this princess, Gregorio," continued Cortes, with an air of pride, "know that she is a daughter of Montezuma, the descendant of a thousand kings; and the Count of Castillejo will carry with him to his castle, a bride more noble than ever entered it before."
"These things are vanities," said Gregorio, gloomily. "Let my brother's children be first plucked from the nest of infidels, if it be not too late."
"Heaven will not
now
forsake them, after protecting them through so many and greater perils," said Cortes, kissing the little cross and restoring it to his bosom. "The best men in the army, cavaliers and all, have sworn they will fetch them from the palace, in which they are now surrounded. And hark thee, Gregorio: The only daughter of the Count of Castillejo is too noble a prize for a nunnery. – We will have another dispensation."
The further disclosures of these two men, both villains, and both penitents, after their ways, were arrested by the commencement of the attack upon the palace; and Cortes calling some of his attendants to support his companion's steps, they descended from the terrace.
CHAPTER XX
Juan Lerma, or Castillejo – for such we must now call him – yet lay in confinement. His cell was in a quarter of the palace remote from the royal apartments; and without being altogether exposed to the cannon-shots, with which the attack was begun, was yet so nigh the garden-wall as to make its luckless inhabitant an auditor of all the fearful yells and outcries, with which the besieged and assailants contended for possession of the breaches. He was still bound, and some dozen or more dark-browed pagans kept watch at his doors, one of which led into a broad passage, and the other he knew not whither. They were designed rather to protect him from the fury of the warriors, now concentrated in the garden and palace, than to guard against escape, which the wounds he had received in the defence of Guzman, had but ill fitted him to attempt. All that Guatimozin could do to prolong an existence, now almost insufferably wretched, he did; and at the very moment of the assault, while taking measures to effect his own retreat from an empire now utterly demolished, and a post no longer tenable, he gave hasty instructions to the Ottomi, Techeechee, to secure the escape of his friend. It will be presently seen in what manner fortune defeated this plan, as well as all others now devised by the fallen monarch.
It was with a listlessness amounting almost to apathy, that Juan listened to the first discharges of the cannon and the roar of hostile voices. Such sounds had been awakened for several days in succession, and each day they were nearer and louder. If they promised him deliverance, they promised little else; for, having reflected upon the eventful enterprise of the causeway, and digested at leisure and in gloom, many of those details which had almost escaped his notice, in the heat and hurry of contention, he saw but little reason to anticipate from his countrymen, any other reception than such as might be vouchsafed to a condemned criminal and avowed renegade. He remembered, that he had been struck down by a Spaniard, while in the very act of giving life to the Captain-General; and he had a vague suspicion, that the blow was struck by the Barba-Roxa. If Gaspar (of whose death he was entirely ignorant), had met him with such vindictive ferocity, what else could be expected from men who had never looked upon him with friendship? Yet fear for himself made the lightest weight in his load of suffering: his thoughts dwelt upon the captive princess, and not less often, though with perhaps less gnawing anxiety, upon his equally captive sister.
Such were the reflections that darkened his mind during the first hours of conflict, and made him almost indifferent to his fate. Yet, notwithstanding his gloom, there arose a circumstance at last, which gave such an appalling character to his confinement, as prevented his remaining any longer indifferent to his situation. He became suddenly aware that volleys of smoke were beginning to roll into the apartment, and perceived, at the same time, that his guards, driven away by fear, or by an uncontrollable desire to mingle in the conflict, as was more probable, had fled from the doors, after satisfying themselves that he was secured in such a manner as to prevent his flying in their absence. He was indeed bound, or rather swathed, hand and foot, with robes of cotton, so as to be incapable of rising from the couch on which he lay: and it was his consciousness of the miserable helplessness of his condition, left to perish, as it seemed, in a burning palace, without the power of raising a finger in self-preservation, that stung him out of his lethargy.
The smoke was now rolling into the room, in denser masses than before, accompanied by the stifling odour of burning feathers, which entered so largely into the decorations of the palace; and he began to apprehend lest he should be suffocated outright, even before the flames had extended to his prison. He called aloud for relief; but his voice was unheeded in the din that shook the palace walls; he struggled to release his limbs, or to rise to his feet, but in vain; and even the poor expedient of rolling over the floor, availed him but little, so much were his muscles cramped by the barbarous bonds. To crown the horror of the scene, a gush of heated air shook the curtains of the door opposite to that which communicated with the passage, and was almost instantly followed by another, whirling smoke and flames.
But even in this extremity, hope was brought to his ears, in the sound of a voice not heard for many days, but not yet forgotten. From among the very flames that came flashing into the chamber, consuming the door-curtains, and darting upon the little canopy that surmounted his couch, he could distinguish the eager and clamorous howlings of Befo; as if this faithful friend were seeking him in his imprisonment. He answered with a shout, which was responded to not only by the joyful bark of the dog, but by the wild cry of a woman; and in the next instant, Magdalena, preceded by Befo, rushed through the flames into his dungeon.
"I have come to save you, my brother!" she cried, with accents wildly vehement and incoherent. "We will fly where never man shall see us more. Kiss me, Juan; and then look upon me no more, for I have made a vow to my soul. – Oh, my brother! my brother!" And she flung herself upon his body, and strove, but in vain, to raise him from the floor.
Had the agitation of his mind permitted, Juan must have noticed, and been shocked by, the alteration in her appearance. Her whole figure was miserably wasted, and she grasped him with a strength feebler than a child's. Her countenance was hollow, ghastly pale, and mottled only by such touches of colour as indicate a spirit consuming equally with the body. Add to this, that her garments were scorched, and even in parts burned, by the flames through which she had made her way; and we may understand how much she differed from the beautiful and majestic creature, that had been deemed at Tezcuco, almost a being of another world.
"Cut my bonds, Magdalena," said Juan, eagerly, "or I must die in thine arms."
"Let it be so, Juan – We will die together," cried Magdalena, with a voice of transport, as if the prospect of such a climax to an unhappy fate filled her mind with actual delight. "Oh yes, Juan, so we will die, so we will die!" And she flung her arms about his neck, with tremulous fervour, smothering his voice of remonstrance and entreaty, until recalled to her wits by a loud howl from Befo. This faithful animal, limping yet with pain, but acting as if he understood the inability of Magdalena to give his master relief, now lifted up his voice, whining for further assistance; and in a few seconds the cry of another human being was heard, approaching with answering shouts, through the passage. But before they were yet heard, Magdalena sprang to her feet, and wrung her hands wildly, staring upon Juan as if upon a basilisk.
"Sister! sister! will you see me perish?" cried Juan. "Slip me but these knotted robes from my hands and feet, and I will save thy life. Befo! what Befo! canst thou not rive them to tatters with thy fangs?"
"I will free you, Juan, – yes, I will free you," said Magdalena, flinging herself upon her knees, and essaying with better zeal than wisdom to loose the knotted folds; "Yes, Juan, I will free you, and then bid you farewell – Yes, farewell, farewell – a lasting farewell."
But while she was muttering thus, and striving confusedly with the knots, a better assistance arrived in the person of the old Ottomi, who rushed in, yelling, "Fly! fly! The king waits for his brother," and cut the garments asunder with his macana.
Juan rose to his feet; but so long had he endured this benumbing bondage, that he was scarce able either to stand or move. There was no time, however, for hesitation. The flames were already devouring his couch, and darting over the cedar rafters of the ceiling. Befo whined and ran to the door, as if inviting his master to follow; and Techeechee did not cease to exhort him to hasten. Besides all this, there were now heard the cries of men and clashing of arms, as if the battle were raging even in the palace, and approaching the place of imprisonment.
"Magdalena, dear Magdalena – "
She flung herself into his arms, and embracing him, as if never to part from him more, she yet uttered, with wild sobbings,
"Farewell, Juan, farewell; farewell, my brother – we will never see each other more!"
"What meanest thou, my sister? Hold me by the arm – Tarry not, or we shall perish."
"I cannot go, Juan – I will remain, Juan – I must die, Juan, I must die. Weep for me, pray for me, remember me – Now go, now go! Go, Juan, go!"
It is impossible to express the mingled tenderness and vehemence with which she uttered these words. Poignant grief darkened in her eyes, in which glimmered the light of the most passionate love; and all the while she shed floods of tears. Unable to comprehend an agitation so extraordinary, and valedictions which he thought little short of insanity, he grasped her by the hand, and endeavoured to draw her after him. She resisted even with screams, until, utterly confounded, and somewhat incensed by opposition so unreasonable and inopportune, he turned again to remonstrate, and perhaps rebuke. But the reproach was banished from his lips, before they had given it utterance. She again flung her arms around his neck, and muttered with tones that went to his heart,
"I cannot go with you, Juan – Oh my brother! pardon me, my brother, and do not curse me. Bid me farewell, Juan, bid me farewell for ever – I love you Juan, I love you too much! – Now I can live no more, Juan, I can live no more – Farewell! farewell! farewell!" And flinging from his arms, as if from a serpent that had suddenly stung her to the heart, she uttered another shriek, and fled through the burning door by which she had entered.
Juan remained fixed to the spot, as if struck by a thunderbolt; and before he could banish the words of the thrice-unhappy victim of passion from his ears, there rushed into the chamber, with furious shouts, a rabble of Spanish soldiers, blood-stained, and begrimed with smoke and cinders, the leader of whom struck the Ottomi dead with a single thrust of his spear, while the others rushed upon Juan, some crying out to kill, and others to spare him.
"Hands off!" cried Najara, throwing himself betwixt them and Juan. "Remember orders, – the general's orders! – The king, señor Juan? Where is the king?"
"Unhand me, villains!" cried Juan, endeavouri