CHAPTER XIII. THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
“LEAVE the city, now so nearly won! Surely, father,
surely thou dost jest with me!”
So Cortes said as he sat in his chamber, resting his arm
on the table, the while Olmedo poured cold water on his
wounded hand.
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The father answered without lifting his face, —
“Go, I say, that we may come back assured of holding
what we have won.”
“Sayest thou so, — thou! By my conscience, here are
honor, glory, empire! Abandon them, and the treasure,
a part of which, as thou knowest, I have already accounted
to his Majesty? No, no; not yet, father! I
cannot — though thou may'st — forget what Velasquez
and my enemies, the velveted minions of the court, would
say.”
“Then it is as I feared,” said Olmedo, suspending his
work, and tossing his hood farther back on his shoulders.
“It is as I feared. The good judgment which hath led us
so far so well, and given riches to those who care for riches,
and planted the Cross over so many heathen temples is, at
last, at fault.”
The father's manner was solemn and reproachful. Cortes
turned to him inquiringly.
“Señor, thou knowest I may be trusted. Heed me. I
speak for Christ's sake,” continued Olmedo. “Leave the
city we must. There is not corn for two days more; the
army is worn down with wounds and watching; scarcely
canst thou thyself hold an axe; the men of Narvaez are
mutineers; the garden is full of graves, and it hath been
said of me that, for want of time, I have shorn the burial
service of essential Catholic rites. And the enemy, Señor,
the legions that broke through the wall last evening, were
new tribes for the first time in battle. Of what effect on
them were yesterday's defeats? The gods tumbled from
the temple have their altars and worship already. Thou
may'st see them from the central turret.”
The good man was interrupted. Sandoval appeared at the
door.
“Come,” said Cortes, impatiently.
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The captain advanced to the table, and saluting, said, in
his calm, straightforward way, —
“The store for the horses is out; we fed them to-night
from the rations of the men. I gave Motilla half of mine,
and yet she is hungry.”
At these words, the hand Olmedo was nursing closed,
despite its wound, as upon a sword-hilt, vice-like, and up the
master arose, brow and cheek gray as if powdered with ashes,
and began to walk the floor furiously; at last he stopped
abruptly: —
“Sandoval, go bid the captains come. I would have their
opinions as to what we should do. Omit none of them.
Those who say nothing may be witnesses hereafter.”
The order was given quietly, with a smile even. A moment
the captain studied his leader's face, and I would not say
he did not understand the meaning of the simple words;
for of him Cortes afterwards said, “He is fit to command
great armies.”
Cortes sat down, and held out the hand for Olmedo's ministrations;
but the father touched him caressingly, and said,
when Sandoval was gone, —
“I commend thee, son, with all my soul. Men are never
so much on trial as when they stand face to face with necessity;
the weak fight it, and fall; the wise accept it as a
servant. So do thou now.”
Cortes' countenance became chill and sullen. “I cannot
see the necessity —”
“Good!” exclaimed Olmedo. “Whatsoever thou dost,
hold fast to that. The captains will tell thee otherwise,
but —”
“What?” asked Cortes, with a sneer. “The treasure is
vast, — a million pesos or more. Dost thou believe they will
go and leave it?”
But Olmedo was intent upon his own thought.
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“Mira!” he said. “If the captains say there is a necessity,
do thou put in thy denial; stand on thy opinion boldly;
and when thou givest up, at last, yield thee to that other
necessity, the demand of the army. And so —”
“And so,” Cortes said with a smile, which was also a
sneer, “and so thou wouldst make a servant of one neccessity
by invoking another.”
“Yes; another which may be admitted without danger or
dishonor. Thou hast the idea, my son.”
“So be it, so be it, — aguardamonos!”
Thereupon Cortes retired within himself, and the father
began again to nurse the wounded hand.
And by and by the chamber was filled with captains, soldiers,
and caciques, whose persons, darkly visible in the
murky light, testified to the severity of the situation: rusted
armor, ragged apparel, faded trappings, bandaged limbs,
countenances heavy with anxiety, or knit hard by suffering,—
such were the evidences.
In good time Cortes arose.
“Ola, my friends,” he said, bluntly. “I have heard that
there are among ye many who think the time come to give
the city, and all we have taken, back to the infidels. I have
sent for ye that I may know the truth. As the matter concerneth
interests of our royal master aside from his dominion,—
property, for example, — the Secretary Duero will make
note of all that passeth. Let him come forward and take
place here.”
The secretary seated himself by the table with manuscript
and pen.
“Now, gentlemen, begin.”
So saying, the chief dropped back into his seat, and held
the sore hand to Olmedo for further care, — never speech
more bluff, never face more calm. For a time, nothing was
heard but the silvery tinkle of the falling water. At length
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one was found sturdy enough to speak; others followed him;
and, at last, when the opinion was taken, not a voice said
stay; on the contrary, the clamor to go was, by some, indecently
loud.
Cortes then stood up.
“The opinion is all one way. Hast thou so written,
Señor Duero?”
The secretary bowed.
“Then write again, — write that I, Hernan Cortes, to this
retreat said, No; write that, if I yield my judgment, it is
not to any necessity of which we have heard as coming from
the enemy, but to the demand of my people. Hast thou so
written?”
The secretary nodded.
“Write again, that upon this demand I ordered Alonzo
Avila and Gonzalo Mexia to take account of all the treasure
belonging to our master, the most Christian king; with leave
to the soldiers, when the total hath been perfected and the retreat
made ready, to help themselves from the balance, as each
one may wish. Those gentlemen will see that their task be
concluded by noon to morrow. Hast written, Duero?”
“Word for word,” answered the secretary.
“Very well. And now,” — Cortes raised his head, and
spoke loudly, — “and now, rest and sleep who can. This
business is bad. Get ye gone!”
And when they were alone, he said to Olmedo, —
“I have done ill —”
“Nay,” said the father, smiling, “thou hast done well.”
“Bastante, — we shall see. Never had knaves such need
of all their strength as when this retreat is begun; yet of
what account will they be when loaded down with the gold
they cannot consent to leave behind?”
“Why then the permission?” asked the father.
Cortes smiled blandly, —
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“If I cannot make them friends, by my conscience! I can
at least seal their mouths in the day of my calamity.”
Then bowing his head, he added, —
“Thy benediction, father.”
The blessing was given.
“Amen!” said Cortes.
And the priest departed; but the steps of the iron-hearted
soldier were heard long after, — not quick and determined
as usual, but slow and measured, and with many and long
pauses between. So ambition walks when marshalling its
resources; so walks a heroic soul at war with itself and fortune!
He flung himself upon his couch at last, saying,—
“In my quiver there are two bolts left. The saints help
me! I will speed them first.”
Wallace, Lew, 1827-1905 [1873], The fair god, or, The last of the 'Tzins: a tale of the conquest of Mexico (James R. Osgood and Company, Boston) [word count] [eaf733T].
