CHAPTER XXXVIII
OTOMIE'S FAREWELL
Thus then did I accomplish the vengeance that I had sworn to my fatherI would wreak upon de Garcia, or rather, thus did I witness itsaccomplishment, for in the end he died, terribly enough, not by my handbut by those of his own fears. Since then I have sorrowed for this, for,when the frozen and unnatural calm passed from my mind, I hated him asbitterly as ever, and grieved that I let him die otherwise than by myhand, and to this hour such is my mind towards him. Doubtless, many maythink it wicked, since we are taught to forgive our enemies, but here Ileave the forgiveness to God, for how can I pardon one who betrayed myfather to the priests, who murdered my mother and my son, who chainedme in the slave-ship and for many hours tortured me with his own hand?Rather, year by year, do I hate him more. I write of this at somelength, since the matter has been a trouble to me. I never could saythat I was in charity with all men living and dead, and because of this,some years since, a worthy and learned rector of this parish took uponhimself to refuse me the rites of the church. Then I went to the bishopand laid the story before him, and it puzzled him somewhat.
But he was a man of large mind, and in the end he rebuked the rectorand commanded him to minister to me, for he thought with me that theAlmighty could not ask of an erring man, that he should forgive one whohad wrought such evils on him and his, even though that enemy were deadand gone to judgment in another place.
But enough of this question of conscience.
When de Garcia was gone into the pit, I turned my steps homewards, orrather towards the ruined city which I could see beneath me, for I hadno home left. Now I must descend the ice cap, and this I found lesseasy than climbing it had been, for, my vengeance being accomplished, Ibecame as other men are, and a sad and weary one at that, so sad indeedthat I should not have sorrowed greatly if I had made a false step uponthe ice.
But I made none, and at length I came to the snow where the travellingwas easy. My oath was fulfilled and my vengeance was accomplished, butas I went I reckoned up the cost. I had lost my betrothed, the love ofmy youth; for twenty years I had lived a savage chief among savages andmade acquaintance with every hardship, wedded to a woman who, althoughshe loved me dearly, and did not lack nobility of mind, as she had shownthe other day, was still at heart a savage or, at the least, a thrallof demon gods. The tribe that I ruled was conquered, the beautiful citywhere I dwelt was a ruin, I was homeless and a beggar, and my fortunewould be great if in the issue I escaped death or slavery. All this Icould have borne, for I had borne the like before, but the cruel end ofmy last surviving son, the one true joy of my desolate life, I couldnot bear. The love of those children had become the passion of my middleage, and as I loved them so they had loved me. I had trained them frombabyhood till their hearts were English and not Aztec, as were theirspeech and faith, and thus they were not only my dear children, butcompanions of my own race, the only ones I had. And now by accident, bysickness, and by the sword, they were dead the three of them, and I wasdesolate.
Ah! we think much of the sorrows of our youth, and should a sweetheartgive us the go by we fill the world with moans and swear that it holdsno comfort for us. But when we bend our heads before the shrouded shapeof some lost child, then it is that for the first time we learn howterrible grief can be. Time, they tell us, will bring consolation,but it is false, for such sorrows time has no salves--I say it who amold--as they are so they shall be. There is no hope but faith, there isno comfort save in the truth that love which might have withered on theearth grows fastest in the tomb, to flower gloriously in heaven; that nolove indeed can be perfect till God sanctifies and completes it with Hisseal of death.
I threw myself down there upon the desolate snows of Xaca, that none hadtrod before, and wept such tears as a man may weep but once in his lifedays.
'O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died forthee, O Absalom, my son, my son!' I cried with the ancient king--I whosegrief was greater than his, for had I not lost three sons within as manyyears? Then remembering that as this king had gone to join his sonlong centuries ago, so I must one day go to join mine, and taking suchcomfort from the thought as may be found in it, I rose and crept back tothe ruined City of Pines.
It was near sunset when I came thither, for the road was long and I grewweak. By the palace I met the Captain Diaz and some of his company, andthey lifted their bonnets to me as I went by, for they had respect formy sorrows. Only Diaz spoke, saying:
'Is the murderer dead?'
I nodded and went on. I went on to our chamber, for there I thought thatI should find Otomie.
She sat in it alone, cold and beautiful as though she had been fashionedin marble.
'I have buried him with the bones of his brethren and his forefathers,'she said, answering the question that my eyes asked. 'It seemed bestthat you should see him no more, lest your heart should break.'
'It is well,' I answered; 'but my heart is broken already.'
'Is the murderer dead?' she said presently in the very words of Diaz.
'He is dead.'
'How?'
I told her in few words.
'You should have slain him yourself; our son's blood is not avenged.'
'I should have slain him, but in that hour I did not seek vengeance, Iwatched it fall from heaven, and was content. Perchance it is best so.The seeking of vengeance has brought all my sorrows upon me; vengeancebelongs to God and not to man, as I have learned too late.'
'I do not think so,' said Otomie, and the look upon her face was thatlook which I had seen when she smote the Tlascalan, when she tauntedMarina, and when she danced upon the pyramid, the leader of thesacrifice. 'Had I been in your place, I would have killed him by inches.When I had done with him, then the devils might begin, not before. Butit is of no account; everything is done with, all are dead, and my heartwith them. Now eat, for you are weary.'
So I ate, and afterwards I cast myself upon the bed and slept.
In the darkness I heard the voice of Otomie that said, 'Awake, I wouldspeak with you,' and there was that about her voice which stirred mefrom my heavy sleep.
'Speak on,' I said. 'Where are you, Otomie?'
'Seated at your side. I cannot rest, so I am seated here. Listen. Many,many years ago we met, when you were brought by Guatemoc from Tobasco.Ah! well do I remember my first sight of you, the Teule, in the courtof my father Montezuma, at Chapoltepec. I loved you then as I have lovedyou ever since. At least I have never gone astray after strange gods,'and she laughed bitterly.
'Why do you talk of these things, Otomie?' I asked.
'Because it is my fancy to do so. Cannot you spare me one hour from yoursleep, who have spared you so many? You remember how you scorned me--oh!I thought I should have died of shame when, after I had caused myselfto be given to you as wife, the wife of Tezcat, you told me of themaid across the seas, that Lily maid whose token is still set uponyour finger. But I lived through it and I loved you the better for yourhonesty, and then you know the rest. I won you because I was brave andlay at your side upon the stone of sacrifice, where you kissed me andtold me that you loved me. But you never loved me, not truly, all thewhile you were thinking of the Lily maid. I knew it then, as I know itnow, though I tried to deceive myself. I was beautiful in those days andthis is something with a man. I was faithful and that is more, and onceor twice you thought that you loved me. Now I wish that those Teules hadcome an hour later, and we had died together there upon the stone, thatis I wish it for my own sake, not for yours. Then we escaped and thegreat struggle came. I told you then that I understood it all. You hadkissed me on the stone of sacrifice, but in that moment you were as onedead; when you came back to life, it was otherwise. But fortune took thegame out of your hands and you married me, and swore an oath to me, andthis oath you have kept faithfully. You married me but you did not knowwhom you married; you thought me beautiful, and sweet, and true, and allthese things I was, but you did not understand that I was far apart fromyou, that
I was still a savage as my forefathers had been. You thoughtthat I had learned your ways, perchance even you thought that Ireverenced your God, as for your sake I have striven to do, but all thewhile I have followed the ways of my own people and I could not quiteforget my own gods, or at the least they would not suffer me, theirservant, to escape them. For years and years I put them from me, but atlast they were avenged and my heart mastered me, or rather they masteredme, for I knew nothing of what I did some few nights since, when Icelebrated the sacrifice to Huitzel and you saw me at the ancient rites.
'All these years you had been true to me and I had borne you childrenwhom you loved; but you loved them for their own sake, not for mine,indeed, at heart you hated the Indian blood that was mixed in theirveins with yours. Me also you loved in a certain fashion and this halflove of yours drove me well nigh mad; such as it was, it died when yousaw me distraught and celebrating the rites of my forefathers on theteocalli yonder, and you knew me for what I am, a savage. And now thechildren who linked us together are dead--one by one they died in thisway and in that, for the curse which follows my blood descended uponthem--and your love for me is dead with them. I alone remain alive, amonument of past days, and I die also.
'Nay, be silent; listen to me, for my time is short. When you bade mecall you "husband" no longer, then I knew that it was finished. I obeyyou, I put you from me, you are no more my husband, and soon I shallcease to be your wife; still, Teule, I pray you listen to me. Now itseems to you in your sorrow, that your days are done and that there isno happiness left for you. This is not so. You are still but a man inthe beginning of middle age, and you are yet strong. You will escapefrom this ruined land, and when you shake the dust of it off your feetits curse shall fall from you; you will return to your own place, andthere you will find one who has awaited your coming for many years.There the savage woman whom you mated with, the princess of a fallenhouse, will become but a fantastic memory to you, and all these strangeeventful years will be as a midnight dream. Only your love for the deadchildren will always remain, these you must always love by day and bynight, and the desire of them, that desire for the dead than which thereis nothing more terrible, shall follow you to your grave, and I am gladthat it should be so, for I was their mother and some thought of me mustgo with them. This alone the Lily maid has left to me, and there onlyI shall prevail against her, for, Teule, no child of hers shall live torob your heart of the memory of those I gave you.
'Oh! I have watched you by day and by night: I have seen the longing inyour eyes for a face which you have lost and for the land of your youth.Be happy, you shall gain both, for the struggle is ended and the Lilymaid has been too strong for me. I grow weak and I have little more tosay. We part, and perhaps for ever, for what is there between us savethe souls of those dead sons of ours? Since you desire me no more, thatI may make our severance perfect, now in the hour of my death I renounceyour gods and I seek my own, though I think that I love yours and hatethose of my people. Is there any communion between them? We part, andperchance for ever, yet I pray of you to think of me kindly, for I haveloved you and I love you; I was the mother of your children, whom beingChristian, you will meet again. I love you now and for always. I amglad to have lived because you kissed me on the stone of sacrifice, andafterwards I bore you sons. They are yours and not mine; it seems to menow that I only cared for them because they were yours, and theyloved you and not me. Take them--take their spirits as you have takeneverything. You swore that death alone should sever us, and you havekept your oath in the letter and in the thought. But now I go to theHouses of the Sun to seek my own people, and to you, Teule, with whomI have lived many years and seen much sorrow, but whom I will no longercall husband, since you forbade me so to do, I say, make no mock ofme to the Lily maid. Speak of me to her as little as you may--be happyand--farewell!'
Now as she spoke ever more faintly, and I listened bewildered, the lightof dawn grew slowly in the chamber. It gathered on the white shape ofOtomie seated in a chair hard by the bed, and I saw that her arms hungdown and that her head was resting on the back of the chair. Now Isprang up and peered into her face. It was white and cold, and I couldfeel no breath upon her lips. I seized her hand, that also was cold. Ispoke into her ear, I kissed her brow, but she did not move nor answer.The light grew quickly, and now I saw all. Otomie was dead, and by herown act.
This was the manner of her death. She had drunk of a poison of which theIndians have the secret, a poison that works slowly and without pain,leaving the mind unclouded to the end. It was while her life was fadingfrom her that she had spoken to me thus sadly and bitterly. I sat uponthe bed and gazed at her. I did not weep, for my tears were done, and asI have said, whatever I might feel nothing could break my calm any more.And as I gazed a great tenderness and sorrow took hold of me, and Iloved Otomie better now that she was dead before me than ever I had donein her life days, and this is saying much. I remembered her in the gloryof her youth as she was in the court of her royal father, I rememberedthe look which she had given me when she stepped to my side upon thestone of sacrifice, and that other look when she defied Cuitlahua theemperor, who would have slain me. Once more I seemed to hear her cry ofbitter sorrow as she uncovered the body of the dead babe our firstborn,and to see her sword in hand standing over the Tlascalan.
Many things came back to me in that sad hour of dawn while I watchedby the corpse of Otomie. There was truth in her words, I had neverforgotten my first love and often I desired to see her face. But it wasnot true to say that I had no love for Otomie. I loved her well and Iwas faithful in my oath to her, indeed, not until she was dead did Iknow how dear she had grown to me. It is true that there was a greatgulf between us which widened with the years, the gulf of blood andfaith, for I knew well that she could not altogether put away her oldbeliefs, and it is true that when I saw her leading the death chant, agreat horror took me and for a while I loathed her. But these things Imight have lived to forgive, for they were part of her blood and nature,moreover, the last and worst of them was not done by her own will, andwhen they were set aside there remained much that I could honour andlove in the memory of this most royal and beautiful woman, who for somany years was my faithful wife. So I thought in that hour and so Ithink to this day. She said that we parted for ever, but I trust and Ibelieve that this is not so. Surely there is forgiveness for us all, anda place where those who were near and dear to each other on the earthmay once more renew their fellowship.
At last I rose with a sigh to seek help, and as I rose I felt that therewas something set about my neck. It was the collar of great emeraldswhich Guatemoc had given to me, and that I had given to Otomie. She hadset it there while I slept, and with it a lock of her long hair. Bothshall be buried with me.
I laid her in the ancient sepulchre amid the bones of her forefathersand by the bodies of her children, and two days later I rode to Mexicoin the train of Bernal Diaz. At the mouth of the pass I turned andlooked back upon the ruins of the City of Pines, where I had livedso many years and where all I loved were buried. Long and earnestly Igazed, as in his hour of death a man looks back upon his past life, tillat length Diaz laid his hand upon my shoulder:
'You are a lonely man now, comrade,' he said; 'what plans have you forthe future?'
'None,' I answered, 'except to die.'
'Never talk so,' he said; 'why, you are scarcely forty, and I who amfifty and more do not speak of dying. Listen; you have friends in yourown country, England?'
'I had.'
'Folk live long in those quiet lands. Go seek them, I will find you apassage to Spain.'
'I will think of it,' I answered.
In time we came to Mexico, a new and a strange city to me, for Corteshad rebuilt it, and where the teocalli had stood, up which I was led tosacrifice, a cathedral was building, whereof the foundations were fitlylaid with the hideous idols of the Aztecs. The place was well enough,but it is not so beautiful as the Tenoctitlan of Montezuma, nor everwill be. The people too were changed; the
n they were warriors and free,now they are slaves.
In Mexico Diaz found me a lodging. None molested me there, for thepardon that I had received was respected. Also I was a ruined man, nolonger to be feared, the part that I had played in the noche triste andin the defence of the city was forgotten, and the tale of my sorrows wonme pity even from the Spaniards. I abode in Mexico ten days, wanderingsadly about the city and up to the hill of Chapoltepec, whereMontezuma's pleasure-house had been, and where I had met Otomie. Nothingwas left of its glories except some of the ancient cedar trees. On theeighth day of my stay an Indian stopped me in the street, saying that anold friend had charged him to say that she wished to see me.
I followed the Indian, wondering who the friend might be, for I had nofriends, and he led me to a fine stone house in a new street. Here I wasseated in a darkened chamber and waited there a while, till suddenlya sad and sweet voice that seemed familiar to me, addressed me in theAztec tongue, saying, 'Welcome, Teule.'
I looked and there before me, dressed in the Spanish fashion, stooda lady, an Indian, still beautiful, but very feeble and much worn, asthough with sickness and sorrow.
'Do you not know Marina, Teule?' she said again, but before the wordshad left her lips I knew her. 'Well, I will say this, that I shouldscarcely have known YOU, Teule. Trouble and time have done their workwith both of us.'
I took her hand and kissed it.
'Where then is Cortes?' I asked.
Now a great trembling seized her.
'Cortes is in Spain, pleading his suit. He has wed a new wife there,Teule. Many years ago he put me away, giving me in marriage to DonJuan Xaramillo, who took me because of my possessions, for Cortes dealtliberally with me, his discarded mistress.' And she began to weep.
Then by degrees I learned the story, but I will not write it here, forit is known to the world. When Marina had served his turn and her witwas of no more service to him, the conqueror discarded her, leaving herto wither of a broken heart. She told me all the tale of her anguishwhen she learned the truth, and of how she had cried to him thatthenceforth he would never prosper. Nor indeed did he do so.
For two hours or more we talked, and when I had heard her story I toldher mine, and she wept for me, since with all her faults Marina's heartwas ever gentle.
Then we parted never to meet again. Before I went she pressed a gift ofmoney on me, and I was not ashamed to take it who had none.
This then was the history of Marina, who betrayed her country for herlove's sake, and this the reward of her treason and her love. But Ishall always hold her memory sacred, for she was a good friend to me,and twice she saved my life, nor would she desert me, even when Otomietaunted her so cruelly.