Thus saying, Juan fell upon his knees, and invoked blessings upon the proselyte, who knelt beside him, confirmed greatly in her new creed by the evident pleasure her conversion, if it could be so called, had given him.
"Know now, Zelahualla," he said, as he raised her from the ground, and folded her in an embrace that had more of the gentle affection of a brother, than the ardent passion of a lover, "that now thou art dearer to me than all the world beside. While thou wert a worshipper of idols, I wept for thee; now that thou art a Christian, I love thee; and through this storm of war, that is gathering around thee, I will remain to protect thee, and, if need be, to perish by thy side."
"What my lord is, that will I be," said the young princess, with such looks of confiding affection as belong to the unsophisticated child of nature – "Yes, Zelahualla will be a Christian, – Juan's Christian," – for she had been long since instructed to pronounce the name of her young friend – "and she will think of none but him – "
She paused suddenly, and disengaged herself from the arms of the Castilian, who, looking round, beheld almost at his side, surveying him with manifest satisfaction, the young king of Mexico. The gorgeous mantles of state were upon his shoulders, the golden sandals and copilli, or crown, bedecked his feet and head; and though no sceptre-bearers or other noble attendants followed at his heels, his appearance was not without dignity, and even majesty.
He stepped forward, and taking the princess by the hand, said to Juan,
"The Centzontli is the king's sister; – thus said I, when Montezuma lived no more; for the Spaniards have killed the sons of the king, and who remains to be her brother? It is enough – the Eagle of the east is the king's brother. – The king will speak with his brother."
At this signal, the maiden stooped humbly over Guatimozin's hand, kissed it with mingled love and respect, and immediately stole from the mound.
"My brother beheld me among my people," said Guatimozin, as soon as she was gone. "What thinks he of the warriors of Mexico?"
"They are numerous as the sands and leaves. But hear the words of him who knows the Spaniards as well as the Mexicans. Before a blow is struck, speak good things to Cortes. Acknowledge thyself the vassal of Spain, and rule for ever."
"Is my brother yet a Spaniard? and does he tell me this thing?"
"If I anger thee, yet must I speak! for I speak with the heart of one grateful to thyself and friendly to the race of Montezuma. As a true Spaniard, I should counsel thee to resist; for resistance would excuse rapacity. How wilt thou fight upon this island, with thine enemies round about thee? They will sit down and sleep, while the king perishes with hunger."
"The houses are garners," replied Guatimozin, proudly: "There is food provided for many days; and how shall the big ships see the peasant's canoe, when it brings corn in the night-time?"
"The lake is broad, but thou knowest not of all the craft and skill of thy foes. Think then of this: Can a man drink the water of the salt lake and canals? Are the pipes of Chapoltepec under the mountains? The Spaniards will tear them up from the causeways; and the warriors will despair for drink."
"Is Guatimozin a fool?" exclaimed the royal barbarian, with a laugh. "The rains have begun to fall; and for seven13 months, the sky will be my fountain. Is not Malintzin mad, that he should besiege me at this season? He is not a god!"
"Were it for thrice seven months," said Juan, "be assured that Cortes will still remain by thy city, awaiting its downfall."
"And what shall be done by the warriors of Mexico? Will they look from the island, and wring their hands, till he departs? For every grain of corn in the garners of Tenochtitlan, there is an arrow in the quivers of the warriors. Count the bones that lie in the ditches of Tacuba, – number the bearded skulls that are piled on the Huitzompan, the trophies gathered from the Spaniards in the night of their flight, – there are not so many living men in the camp of Malintzin, as perished that night when we drove them from Mexico."
"Dost thou hold, then, for nothing the two hundred thousand Tlascalans, Tezcucans, Chalquese, Totonacs, and other tribes, that follow with Cortes?"
"There are but three roads to Mexico. – Can they hurt me from the shores?"
"The ships are fourteen more; and by and by, there will be no canoe that swims the lake, but will bear the soldiers of Don Hernan. Think not resistance can do aught but protract the fate of thine empire, and incense the miseries of its subjects. Its history is written. Heaven is angry with your gods and with your acts. The blood of human sacrifices, detestable in the eyes of divinity, calls for revenge. Alas, thou didst this day condemn a poor Spaniard to the altar, and thus stain thine installation with cruelty! God will punish the Mexicans for this."
The eyes of Guatimozin flashed in the moonlight with indignation.
"Is not the prisoner," he cried, "the prey of the victor? The Spaniard burns the captive in the shoulder, and makes him a slave. Which is cruel? The prisoner and the felon we give to the gods – it is good. Did the Eagle ever behold a Mexican chain men to a stake, and burn them with fire? Yet he saw Malintzin burn the Chief of Nauhtlan and the fifteen warriors, in the palace-yard, in a great fire made with Mexican bows and arrows! Which, then, is cruel?"
"This act I will not defend," said Juan, "and it was my presumption in censuring it, that made Cortes my enemy. But, prince, let us speak of these things no more, for our arguments shake not each other's minds. Let me speak of myself, for it is just thou shouldst know my resolve. I am thy friend, but I will not lift my hand against my countrymen."
The countenance of the king darkened:
"Is not the Great Eagle brave? He fears his enemies!"
"I fear nothing," said Juan, with conscious dignity, "else would I speak no words to lose thy favour. I will be thy prisoner, thy sacrifice, if thou wilt. – I lament the fate that is coming upon thee, but I cannot fight in thy cause."
Guatimozin eyed him earnestly, as if to read his soul; and then said, a little softly,
"The Great Eagle knows all things: he shall rest in the palace all day, and at night, speak wise things to the king."
"Neither in this can I aid thee," replied Juan, resolutely. "What I know of religion and moral duties, – nay, all that I know of civilized arts, that are not military, – this much I am free to communicate; but nothing more. I can no more help thee to fight with my knowledge, than with my arm."
This was a declaration of principles somewhat above the powers of the infidel to appreciate, and it filled him, as Juan saw, with serious displeasure. He took him by the arm, and spoke sternly and even menacingly:
"The faith of a Christian is not that of a Mexican. The Indian kills his foes and the foes of his friend: the Christian forgets his friend, when his friend is in trouble."
Juan was stung by the reproach, and replied with emphasis:
"The king took me from the prison-house of Tezcuco: the block was in waiting for me. Who talked to me of prisons and of blocks, before Olin came to the garden?"
Guatimozin grasped his hand, and spoke with impetuosity, —
"I have said the thing that was false, and my brother does not forget his friend. He did a good deed to Olin; why should he turn his face from Guatimozin? Was Olin in greater distress than the king, beset by enemies who cannot be counted? My brother has looked in the face of the Centzontli, my sister. – The princes of the city, and the kings of the tribes, have said, each one, 'Give me the daughter of Montezuma, and I will die for Mexico.' But the king thought of his brother. Thus it shall be: the Great Eagle shall take the princess for his wife, and be a Mexican; and then, when Guatimozin entreats him to strike his foe, he will call upon his god of the cross, – the Mexitli of the Spaniards, – and strike with all his force. Is it not so?"
"Prince!" said Juan, sadly, "even this cannot be. According to our thoughts, there are sins of the deepest turpitude in acts which your customs cause you to esteem virtues. The Spaniard may change his country, but he cannot become the foe of his countrymen. What wouldst thou think of one of thine own people, – thy friend, thy subject – whom thou shouldst find among the Spaniards, and aiming his weapon against thee?"
"There are many thousands of them," said Guatimozin, giving way to passion. "Malintzin fights with weapons more destructive than the big thunder-pipes. He goes among the serfs that pay tribute, and he says, 'Pay no more – Is it not better to be free?' Thus he seduces them. But my brother shall think of this again. And now he shall eat and sleep."
So saying, and perhaps thinking it unwise to pursue his designs at the present moment, he drew Juan from the mound, and was leading him towards the palace, when the sound of voices and footsteps came from the bottom of the garden, accompanied by the fierce barking of Befo, who was still confined in the cage.
"Now do I remember me," said Juan, with a feeling of shame, "that I have suffered the noble animal – "
But his words were cut short by an unexpected circumstance. No sooner had his voice sounded, than a wild cry burst from a neighbouring copse, and a female figure, pursued by Mexican warriors, rushed forwards, calling upon him by name, and by a title that had never before blessed his ears.
"Juan! Juan! my brother! oh, my brother!"
It was Magdalena, – her hair disordered and drooping in the damp air of evening, her face, as far as it could be seen in the imperfect light, pale and distracted. No sooner did her eyes behold him than she redoubled her speed, and throwing herself upon his neck, she cried, with transports of emotion, while the pursuers gathered round in no little amazement.
"Oh, Juan! my brother! pardon me and forgive me; for I am your sister, – yes, your sister, your own sister, – and I have come to die with you!"
Confounded as much by the strange declaration as by her presence, Juan endeavoured gently to disengage himself from her embrace, but all in vain. She clasped his neck with tenfold strength, weeping and exclaiming he scarce knew what; and, though much affected, he began to think that sorrow and passion had turned her brain. What therefore was his surprise, when he gathered from her incoherent exclamations, that Camarga, the masking stranger, who had, on three several occasions, betrayed such an unaccountable desire to take his life, had, even with his dying lips, pronounced them brother and sister. His heart thrilled at the thought; for his affection for the singular being whose destiny of mourning was so like his own, had ever been great, though chilled and pained by the belief of her unworthiness. He pursued the idea with a thousand questions, the answers to which provoked his curiosity, while they damped his hope. Was Camarga their father? and was he dead? What did he say? What, – no more than this– 'He was her brother?' No more? And no one alive to confirm the story? "Alas," he said, his thoughts reverting to what he remembered of his childhood; "this fancy has made me as distracted as thyself. Camarga was a dreamer – an evident madman. My father died at Isabela in the island; for was not I at his side? This cannot be, Magdalena; – deceive thyself no longer."
"Speak not to me of deceit, my brother – for my brother thou art," said Magdalena, vehemently. "Can my heart deceive me? Is it not the work of heaven, seen in our whole life? Heaven kept thee – yes, Juan, while heaven punished me the sin of neglected vows with the torments of unavailing affection – it kept thee from loving me as much, because thou wert my brother. Yes, this it is! The angels spoke with the lips of that man, who now lies dead on the lake-side! But what of that, Juan? We will go to Cortes – I can win thy forgiveness. Alas, alas! I could have saved thee before, but thou madest me mad. Why didst thou treat me so, Juan? I was innocent – indeed I was; and Hilario's recantation – oh believe me, I knew not of his murder, till it was accomplished! Villafana killed him from fear, for Hilario had discovered how he scuttled the ship; and thus it was that Hilario gained Villafana to corroborate the falsehoods he spoke of me. I can make all clear to thee, indeed I can. – But now, dear Juan, cast me not off again, – for you are my brother. We will go to Cortes, – he will pardon thee. We will find out the friends of Camarga, and it must needs be that we shall discover all. And then I will go to a convent again, – and then I care not what befalls me; for I shall have a brother in the world left to love me."
While Magdalena was pouring forth these wild expressions, for a time almost unconscious of her situation in the heart of the pagan city, and in the presence of so many barbarians, Guatimozin, who had looked on with an astonishment that was soon converted into the darkest displeasure, turned to the capturers of Magdalena, who had ceased their pursuit the moment they beheld the king, and flung themselves reverently at his feet. The Lord of Death, who made the like prostration, had assumed an erect posture, in virtue of his high rank. But his looks wandered from the king to the Christian pair, whose endearments he watched with exceeding great satisfaction, and indeed with exultation.
"What is this that I see?" said the king, in a low but stern voice; "and who hath brought this woman to my garden?"
Masquazateuctli bent his head to the earth, replying with the complacency of one who has achieved a happy exploit, —
"The king made the Great Eagle of the East his brother; he took him to the hill of Chapoltepec that his people might know him, and do him honour. Shall not Masquazateuctli do a good thing to the king's brother? He was sorry because of his loneliness in the king's garden, and the Maiden of the East was afar in Tezcuco. I thought of this, and I crept to the gates of Tezcuco: and I said, 'I will take a prisoner for the king, and perhaps I shall find a maiden with white brows; which will gladden the heart of the king's brother.' Mexitli was with me. But I killed the man that came with her, for I saw she was that daughter of a god, with eyes like the full moon, of whom the king had spoken, when he came from Tezcuco alone, and my heart was very joyful. The Eagle is glad – he will not ask the king for the daughter of Montezuma!"
Guatimozin muttered a fierce interjection betwixt his teeth, but replied with dignity,
"The Lord of Death should have spoken this to the king; but if he be angry, he remembers that Masquazateuctli was Montezuma's soldier. By and by, I will speak with him in the palace. – I have said."
The Lord of Death, thus dismissed, and not a little mortified at such insufficient thanks, beckoned to his followers and departed.
Guatimozin strode up to the Christians, and touching Juan on the shoulder, said, with a stern voice,
"What shall the king say of his brother, to the daughter of Montezuma?"
The colour rushed into Juan's cheeks; but he replied immediately, and even firmly,
"That he brings her his sister, to whom, for his own sake, he prays her to be kind and gentle."
"Does my brother tell me this?" said the king, starting. "The Great Eagle said he was alone in the world, with none of his kin remaining."
"And so I thought, until this hour," said Juan, not without embarrassment: "and now must I tell the king, that though I call this maiden my sister, and pray heaven she may prove so, yet neither she nor I have aught upon which to found our belief, but the words of one whom the Lord of Death killed, when he seized her."
Guatimozin intently eyed the maiden, who watched with painful interest the changes of his countenance and Juan's, for she understood not a word of their speech; and then said,
"Let it be so: Guatimozin will think of this. The Spanish lady is welcome – the Eagle shall speak with her a little, and then give her up to the women, that they may be good to her. – The king's house is very spacious."
He then turned gravely away, signing to the outcast pair to follow him.
They were suffered to be alone together for a brief hour, in which Magdalena, rejecting impetuously and passionately all Juan's doubts, poured out all the secrets of a life full of unhappiness, but not of crime; and Juan himself, forgetting the weakness of all her claims of consanguinity, melted into belief, and learned to call her his sister. There were indeed certain circumstances of mystery about his birth, which might have often disturbed his thoughts, had he been of an imaginative turn. The man whom he had called and esteemed his father, had died a violent death in the islands, while Juan was yet very young. He could recollect little of him that was agreeable to remember; and all that had afterwards come to his ears, only served to chill his curiosity; all persons, who had not forgotten him, representing the elder Lerma as a most depraved and infamous man. No one knew whence he had come, or if he had any relatives left in the world; and Juan remembered well, that the planters had, on several occasions, when the unnatural parent, if parent he was, had maltreated and abandoned him, taken him away from Lerma, and comforted Juan with the assurance that the villain had undoubtedly stolen him from some one. It is, however, very certain that Juan never seriously thought of doubting that this man was his parent; nor would he have recalled such trivial circumstances to his mind, had he not been staggered by the impetuosity of Magdalena, and by his own feelings of affection, into a credulity almost as ample as her own. That he should desire also to find a relative in one, who, considered without reference to the weakness shown only in her love for him, was of a soul as stainless as it was noble, is not to be doubted; and such love he could be rejoiced to return. In truth, his reasons for admitting her claims were as flimsy as hers for making them, as he came to discover, when left to examine them in solitude. They made, however, a deep and lasting impression upon his mind. Perhaps the impression would have been still deeper, had the two been permitted to remain longer together; but before Magdalena had yet been able to speak with composure, there came a train of maidens, bearing chaplets of flowers, and rich ornaments of feathers, giving Juan to understand, that it was the king's will his companion should now leave him.
Magdalena turned pale, when this command was announced to her by Juan, and seemed at first as if resolved never to be parted from him more. But being persuaded by Juan that she had nothing to fear – that the king was his friend – that they should certainly meet again, – she at last consented. She strode to the door – she listened to his words of farewell, and she sobbed upon his breast; and then departed with the happy but delusive hope of seeing him again on the morrow.
It was the last night of peace that ever darkened over the Mexico of the pagans.
CHAPTER VIII
To one whose perverted imagination can dwell with pleasure on 'the pomp and circumstance of glorious war,' no better study can be recommended than the history of the siege of Mexico, which may be considered as one single battle, lasting for the space of ninety-three days, counting from the time when the different divisions of the besieging army had taken their positions in form, upon the different causeways. This does not include the period occupied in the march of these bodies from Tezcuco, and which was not devoted to inactivity. On the contrary, the Captain-General took advantage of the occasion to discipline his naval force, by sweeping over the lake from bay to bay, and town to town, destroying every piragua that made its appearance, as well as such chinampas, or floating gardens, as he could approach, and frequently by cannonading the imperial city itself. Besides this, he assaulted and took, on each occasion after a most sanguinary combat, certain fortresses upon two island rocks, one of which rose near to Iztapalapan: the other, though no longer insulated, still lies a little to the east of the republican city, and is called the Peñon, or Crag, of Montezuma.
The preparations of the Mexicans were extensive and anticipative of all the peculiar evils which they thought it in the power of their great enemy to inflict. They had cut through the causeways numberless ditches, each of which was furnished with a light bridge, to be withdrawn, when about to fall into the power of the Spaniards; and the earth and stones thus removed, were built up before and behind the chasms, into strong ramparts, which were still further strengthened with palisades. In this manner, while opposing the greatest obstructions to the passage of the foot-soldiers, they made it impossible for horses to be brought against them, – a precaution that, for a long time, robbed the Spaniards of their greatest advantage.
The beginning of the siege of Mexico, then, lay in the struggles of the besiegers to obtain possession of the ditches, which were to be filled up, by levelling the ramparts. This was a work both of infinite danger and toil, the besieged fighting from behind the advanced barriers with unexampled resolution, and, however overpowered, never retreating beyond the ditch, until their companions had left but a single plank for their passage, which was immediately afterwards withdrawn. After this, the Spaniards were forced to overturn the first barrier into the chasm, before they could rush across the slough of mud and water, to attack the second; and all this was to be done not only against violent opposition in front, but with a most dangerous and audacious species of annoyance practised on one flank or the other, and sometimes on both. Wherever the shallows admitted, the Mexicans drove into the bottom of the lake, and at but a short distance from the dike, strong piles, to which they secured their canoes, furnished with high and thick bulwarks of planks, almost musket-proof; and from these they drove arrows, darts, and stones against the soldiers with destructive effect. Nay, with such wisdom had the young king of Mexico devised means to embarrass his adversary, that he had even secured his little flotillas from the possibility of approach, by sinking rows of piles in the lake, parallel with the causeways, through which the brigantines could not pass, to disperse them. It was to but little purpose that Cortes battered them from a distance with his falconets; the following morning saw replaced every loss of men and canoes. The soldiers were excited to fury by an annoyance so irritating, and some were found at times frantic enough to leap into the lake, where the waters happened to be sufficiently shallow, and endeavour to carry the flotillas, sword in hand.
The narrowness and obstructed condition of the dikes making it impossible that all the forces could act upon them together, the vast multitudes of native allies were left in reserve, with the cavalry, on the shore, – where they were not idle, the numbers, as well as the boldness of the Mexicans being so great, that they frequently sent armies to the shore by night, who, at the dawn, fell upon the reserved troops with all the rancour of opponents in a civil war.
This was the condition of the war at its commencement. The grand desiderata, – the removal of the flotillas, and the profitable employment of the confederates, were not effected until Cortes had seized all the piraguas of the shore-towns, and sent them, manned with Tlascalans, against the palisaded posts, where, besides doing what execution they could upon the enemy, the allies tore away the piles, and thus admitted some of the lighter brigantines among the canoes.
Aided in this manner, the soldiers were able to advance along the several dikes, until they got possession of certain military stations, on each, which might have been called the gates of Mexico.
It has been already said, that the causeways of Iztapalapan and Cojohuacan, coming respectively from the south and southwest, united together at the distance of less than a league from Mexico. At the point of junction, the causeway expanded into a mole or quay, where was a strong and lofty stone wall, the passage through which was contrived by the overlapping of the walls, in the manner described at Tezcuco. This rampart was defended by very strong towers and by a parapet with embrasures, from which the defenders could easily repel any enemy, inferior in strength and determination to the Spaniards. The point was called Xoloc, and when wrested from the hands of the Mexicans, became the head-quarters of Cortes.
A similar expansion of the dike of Tacuba, fortified in the same way, and at the distance of two miles from the city, and one from the shore, afforded a resting-place and garrison for the forces under Alvarado, whose first act, after reaching Tacuba, was to destroy the aqueduct of Chapoltepec, which consisted of a double line of baked earthenware pipes, carried across the lake on a dike constructed only for that purpose, and therefore so narrow and inconsiderable, that it does not appear that the Spaniards derived any advantage from the possession of it.
The division of De Olid united with that of Sandoval at the point Xoloc; the latter of whom was afterwards directed to take possession of the northern dike of Tepejacac, the remains of which may yet be traced between the city and the hill of Our Lady of Guadalupe, on which was a fortification resembling the others.
These positions being thus assumed, the Captain-General divided the fleet of brigantines among the three captains, to whom they were of vast service, by protecting the flanks of their divisions.
From this period, the siege may be considered to have been begun in form; and it was continued with a fury of attack and resistance almost without parallel in the history of conquest. Foot by foot, and inch by inch, the invaders advanced, staining the causeways with their blood, and choking the lake with the bodies of their foes. Ditch after ditch was won and filled, and almost as often lost and re-opened. The day was devoted to battle, the night to alarms. The only periods of rest were when the daily tempests, for it was now the heart of the rainy season, burst over the heads of the combatants, as if heaven had sent its floods to efface the horrible dyes of carnage, and its thunders to drown the roar of man's more destructive artillery. Then, the exhausted soldier and the fainting barbarian flung themselves to rest upon the trodden mud of their ramparts, within sight of each other, regardless of the wrath of the elements, so much less enduring than their own.
At first, the Spaniards after winning a ditch and filling it, were content to return for the night to the fortified stations, to shelter themselves in the towers, and in miserable huts of reeds which they had constructed, from the rains, that, usually, continued until midnight. But finding that the infidels, more manly or more desperate, devoted the night to repair the losses of the day, by again opening the chasms, they denied themselves even this poor solace, and threw themselves to sleep on the spots where they fought, ready to resume the conflict at the first glimmer of dawn.
Thus, day by day, the approaches were effected, and by the end of the second month, the besiegers had advanced almost to the suburbs, which jutted out into the lake along the three causeways, supported upon foundations of piles, and sometimes piers of stone. The houses stood apart from each other, but were connected, in seasons of peace, by light wooden drawbridges, running from terrace to terrace; so that the streets of these quarters may be said to have been on the tops of the houses, – and the same thing was true of the gardens. The communication below was effected always by means of canoes. Among these edifices, the water was often of sufficient depth to float the brigantines of lighter draught, which sometimes entered them, to fire the buildings, that were so many fortresses, from which the soldiers on the causeways could be annoyed.
The labours and sufferings of the besiegers were constant, and almost intolerable; yet they endured them with a patience derived from the assurance of a certain though tardy success. The toils and distresses of the Mexicans were greater, and endured with heroism still more noble, because almost without hope; and it may be said with justice of these poor barbarians, whose memory has almost vanished from the earth, that never yet did a people fight for their altars and firesides with greater courage and devotion. They saw themselves each day confined to narrow limits, – they fought the more resolutely; they beheld all the marine forces of the neighbouring towns, late their feudatories, led against them, – they sent navies of their own to chastise the insurgents, and still kept their ground against the Spaniards.
It was certain that Cortes had found in the young king an antagonist far more formidable than he had expected. The resistance at the ramparts, the sallies by night that were often made with fatal effect, the secret expeditions against the shores, and the stratagems put in execution to cripple the brigantines, all indicated, in the infidel prince, a capacity of mind worthy of his unconquerable courage. A single exploit will prove his daring and his craft. He decoyed two of the largest brigantines into a certain bay, where many of his strongest piraguas lay in ambush among the reeds. With these, he attacked, boarded, and carried the two vessels, and had he possessed any knowledge of the management of sails, would have conducted them in safety to his palace walls. As it was, they were maintained against an overpowering force, sent to retake them, and not yielded until the captors had destroyed every Christian on board, fifty in number, as well as the sails and cordage, and cast the falconets into the lake.