CHAPTER II.
THE CONQUEROR ON THE CAUSEWAY AGAIN.
As predicted by the 'tzin, the Spaniards set out early next morning--themorning of the 24th of June--by the causeway from Iztapalapan, alreadynotable in this story.
At their head rode the Senor Hernan, silent, thoughtful, and not wellpleased; pondering, doubtless, the misconduct of the _adelantado_ in theold palace to which he was marching, and the rueful condition it mightimpose upon the expedition.
The cavaliers next in the order of march, which was that of battle, rodeand talked as men are wont when drawing nigh the end of a long andtoilsome task. This the leader at length interrupted,--
"_Senores_, come near. Yonder ye may see the gate of Xoloc," hecontinued, when they were up. "If the heathen captains think to obstructour entry, they would do well, now that our ships lie sunken in thelake, to give us battle there. Ride we forward to explore whatpreparations, if any, they have made."
So they rode, at quickened pace, arms rattling, spurs jingling, andfound the gate deserted.
"_Viva companeros!_" cried Cortes, riding through the shadow of thebattlements. "Give the scabbards their swords again. There will be nobattle; the way to the palace is open." And, waiting till the column wasat their heels, he turned to the trumpeters, and shouted, cheerily,"_Ola_, ye lazy knaves! Since the march began, ye have not been heardfrom. Out now, and blow! Blow as if ye were each a Roland, with Roland'shorn. Blow merrily a triumphal march, that our brethren in the leaguerahead may know deliverance at hand."
The feeling of the chief spread rapidly; first, to the cavaliers; thento the ranks, where soon there were shouting and singing; andsimultaneous with the trumpetry, over the still waters sped theminstrelsy of the Tlascalans. Ere long they had the answer of thegarrison; every gun in the palace thundered welcome.
Cortes settled in his saddle smiling: he was easy in mind; the junctionwith Alvarado was assured; the city and the king were his, and he couldnow hold them; nevertheless, back of his smile there was much thought.True, his enemies in Spain would halloo spitefully over the doughty deedhe had just done down in Cempoalla. No matter. The Court and theCouncil had pockets, and he could fill them with gold,--gold by thecaravel, if necessary; and for the pacification of his most Catholicmaster, the Emperor, had he not the New World? And over the schedule ofguerdons sure to follow such a gift to such a master he lingeredcomplacently, as well he might. Patronage, and titles, and highemployments, and lordly estates danced before his eyes, as danced thesun's glozing upon the crinkling water.
One thought, however,--only one,--brought him trouble. The soldiers ofNarvaez were new men, ill-disciplined, footsore, grumbling,discontented, disappointed. He remembered the roseate pictures by whichthey had been won from their leader before the battle was joined. 'TheEmpire was already in possession; there would be no fighting; the marchwould be a promenade through grand landscapes, and by towns and cities,whose inhabitants would meet them in processions, loaded with fruits andflowers, tributes of love and fear,'--so he had told them through hisspokesmen, Olmedo, the priest, and Duero, the secretary. Nor failed henow to recall the chief inducements in the argument,--the charms of theheathen capital, and the easy life there waiting,--a life whose solevexation would be apportionment of the lands conquered and the goldgathered. And the wonderful city,--here it was, placid as ever; andneither the valley, nor the lake, nor the summering climate, nor theabundance of which he had spoken, failed his description; nothing waswanting but _the people_, THE PEOPLE! Where were they? He looked at theprize ahead; gyres of smoke, slowly rising and purpling as they rose,were all the proofs of life within its walls. He swept the little seawith angry eyes; in the distance a canoe, stationary, and with asolitary occupant, and he a spy! And this was the grand receptionpromised the retainers of Narvaez! He struck his mailed thigh with hismailed hand fiercely, and, turning in his saddle, looked back. Thecolumn was moving forward compactly, the new men distinguishable by thefreshness of their apparel and equipments. "_Bien!_" he said, with agrim smile and cunning solace, "_Bien!_ they will fight for life, if notfor majesty and me."
Close by the wall Father Bartolome overtook him, and, after giving reinto his mule, and readjusting his hood, said gravely, "If the tinkle ofmy servant's bell disturb not thy musing, Senor,--I have been throughthe files, and bring thee wot of the new men."
"Welcome, father," said Cortes, laughing. "I am not an evil spirit tofly the exorcisement of thy bell, not I; and so I bid thee welcome. Butas for whereof thou comest to tell, no more, I pray. I know of what thevarlets speak. And as I am a Christian, I blame them not. We promisedthem much, and--this is all: fair sky, fair land, strange city,--and allwithout people! Rueful enough, I grant; but, as matter more serious,what say the veterans? Came they within thy soundings?"
"Thou mayest trust them, Senor. Their tongues go with their swords. Theyreturn to the day of our first entry here, and with excusableenlargement tell what they saw then in contrast with the present."
"And whom blame they for the failure now?"
"The captain Alvarado."
Cortes' brows dropped, and he became thoughtful again, and in suchtemper rode into the city.
Within the walls, everywhere the visitors looked, were signs of life,but nowhere a living thing; neither on the street, nor in the houses,nor on the housetops,--not even a bird in the sky. A stillness possessedthe place, peculiar in that it seemed to assert a presence, and palpablylurk in the shade, lie on the doorsteps, issue from the windows, andpervade the air; giving notice so that not a man, new or veteran, butwas conscious that, in some way, he was menaced with danger. There isnothing so appalling as the unaccountable absence of life in placeshabitually populous; nothing so desolate as a deserted city.
"_Por Dios!_" said Olmedo, toying with the beads at his side, "I hadrather the former reception than the present. Pleasanter the sullenmultitude than the silence without the multitude."
Cortes made him no answer, but rode on abstractedly, until stopped byhis advance-guard.
"At rest!" he said, angrily. "Had ye the signal? I heard it not."
"Nor did we, Senor," replied the officer in charge. "But, craving thypardon, approach, and see what the infidels have done here."
Cortes drew near, and found himself on the brink of the first canal. Heswore a great oath; the bridge was dismantled. On the hither side,however, lay the timbers, frame and floor. The _tamanes_ detailed fromthe guns replaced them.
"Bartolome, good father," said Cortes, confidentially, when the marchwas resumed, "thou hast a commendable habit of holding what thouhearest, and therefore I shame not to confess that I, too, prefer thefirst reception. The absence of the heathen and the condition of yonbridge are parts of one plan, and signs certain of battle now ready tobe delivered."
"If it be God's will, amen!" replied the priest, calmly. "We arestronger than when we went out."
"So is the enemy, for he hath organized his people. The hordes thatstared at us so stupidly when we first came--be the curse of the saintsupon them!--are now fighting men."
Olmedo searched his face, and said, coldly, "To doubt is to dread theresult."
"Nay, by my conscience! I neither doubt nor dread. Yet I hold it notunseemly to confess that I had rather meet the brunt on the firm land,with room for what the occasion offers. I like not yon canal, with itsbroken bridge, too wide for horse, too deep for weighted man; it puttethus to disadvantage, and hath a hateful reminder of the brigantines,which, as thou mayest remember, we left at anchor, mistresses of thelake; in our absence they have been lost,--a most measureless folly,father! But let it pass, let it pass! The Mother--blessed be hername!--hath not forsaken us. Montezuma is ours, and--"
"He is victory," said Olmedo, zealously.
"He is the New World!" answered Cortes.
And so it chanced that the poor king was centre of thought for both the'tzin and his enemy,--the dread of one and the hope of the other.