CHAPTER XX.
Juan Lerma, or Castillejo--for such we must now call him--yet lay inconfinement. His cell was in a quarter of the palace remote from theroyal apartments; and without being altogether exposed to thecannon-shots, with which the attack was begun, was yet so nigh thegarden-wall as to make its luckless inhabitant an auditor of all thefearful yells and outcries, with which the besieged and assailantscontended for possession of the breaches. He was still bound, and somedozen or more dark-browed pagans kept watch at his doors, one of whichled into a broad passage, and the other he knew not whither. They weredesigned rather to protect him from the fury of the warriors, nowconcentrated in the garden and palace, than to guard against escape,which the wounds he had received in the defence of Guzman, had but illfitted him to attempt. All that Guatimozin could do to prolong anexistence, now almost insufferably wretched, he did; and at the verymoment of the assault, while taking measures to effect his own retreatfrom an empire now utterly demolished, and a post no longer tenable, hegave hasty instructions to the Ottomi, Techeechee, to secure the escapeof his friend. It will be presently seen in what manner fortune defeatedthis plan, as well as all others now devised by the fallen monarch.
It was with a listlessness amounting almost to apathy, that Juanlistened to the first discharges of the cannon and the roar of hostilevoices. Such sounds had been awakened for several days in succession,and each day they were nearer and louder. If they promised himdeliverance, they promised little else; for, having reflected upon theeventful enterprise of the causeway, and digested at leisure and ingloom, many of those details which had almost escaped his notice, in theheat and hurry of contention, he saw but little reason to anticipatefrom his countrymen, any other reception than such as might bevouchsafed to a condemned criminal and avowed renegade. He remembered,that he had been struck down by a Spaniard, while in the very act ofgiving life to the Captain-General; and he had a vague suspicion, thatthe blow was struck by the Barba-Roxa. If Gaspar (of whose death he wasentirely ignorant), had met him with such vindictive ferocity, what elsecould be expected from men who had never looked upon him withfriendship? Yet fear for himself made the lightest weight in his load ofsuffering: his thoughts dwelt upon the captive princess, and not lessoften, though with perhaps less gnawing anxiety, upon his equallycaptive sister.
Such were the reflections that darkened his mind during the first hoursof conflict, and made him almost indifferent to his fate. Yet,notwithstanding his gloom, there arose a circumstance at last, whichgave such an appalling character to his confinement, as prevented hisremaining any longer indifferent to his situation. He became suddenlyaware 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 moreprobable, had fled from the doors, after satisfying themselves that hewas 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 ofcotton, so as to be incapable of rising from the couch on which he lay:and it was his consciousness of the miserable helplessness of hiscondition, left to perish, as it seemed, in a burning palace, withoutthe power of raising a finger in self-preservation, that stung him outof 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 solargely into the decorations of the palace; and he began to apprehendlest he should be suffocated outright, even before the flames hadextended to his prison. He called aloud for relief; but his voice wasunheeded in the din that shook the palace walls; he struggled to releasehis limbs, or to rise to his feet, but in vain; and even the poorexpedient of rolling over the floor, availed him but little, so muchwere his muscles cramped by the barbarous bonds. To crown the horror ofthe scene, a gush of heated air shook the curtains of the door oppositeto that which communicated with the passage, and was almost instantlyfollowed by another, whirling smoke and flames.
But even in this extremity, hope was brought to his ears, in the soundof a voice not heard for many days, but not yet forgotten. From amongthe very flames that came flashing into the chamber, consuming thedoor-curtains, and darting upon the little canopy that surmounted hiscouch, he could distinguish the eager and clamorous howlings of Befo; asif this faithful friend were seeking him in his imprisonment. Heanswered with a shout, which was responded to not only by the joyfulbark of the dog, but by the wild cry of a woman; and in the nextinstant, Magdalena, preceded by Befo, rushed through the flames into hisdungeon.
"I have come to save you, my brother!" she cried, with accents wildlyvehement 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 tomy soul.--Oh, my brother! my brother!" And she flung herself upon hisbody, and strove, but in vain, to raise him from the floor.
Had the agitation of his mind permitted, Juan must have noticed, andbeen shocked by, the alteration in her appearance. Her whole figure wasmiserably wasted, and she grasped him with a strength feebler than achild's. Her countenance was hollow, ghastly pale, and mottled only bysuch touches of colour as indicate a spirit consuming equally with thebody. Add to this, that her garments were scorched, and even in partsburned, by the flames through which she had made her way; and we mayunderstand how much she differed from the beautiful and majesticcreature, that had been deemed at Tezcuco, almost a being of anotherworld.
"Cut my bonds, Magdalena," said Juan, eagerly, "or I must die in thinearms."
"Let it be so, Juan--We will die together," cried Magdalena, with avoice of transport, as if the prospect of such a climax to an unhappyfate 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 tremulousfervour, smothering his voice of remonstrance and entreaty, untilrecalled to her wits by a loud howl from Befo. This faithful animal,limping yet with pain, but acting as if he understood the inability ofMagdalena to give his master relief, now lifted up his voice, whiningfor further assistance; and in a few seconds the cry of another humanbeing was heard, approaching with answering shouts, through the passage.But before they were yet heard, Magdalena sprang to her feet, and wrungher hands wildly, staring upon Juan as if upon a basilisk.
"Sister! sister! will you see me perish?" cried Juan. "Slip me but theseknotted 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, flingingherself upon her knees, and essaying with better zeal than wisdom toloose the knotted folds; "Yes, Juan, I will free you, and then bid youfarewell--Yes, farewell, farewell--a lasting farewell."
But while she was muttering thus, and striving confusedly with theknots, a better assistance arrived in the person of the old Ottomi, whorushed in, yelling, "Fly! fly! The king waits for his brother," and cutthe garments asunder with his macana.
Juan rose to his feet; but so long had he endured this benumbingbondage, that he was scarce able either to stand or move. There was notime, however, for hesitation. The flames were already devouring hiscouch, and darting over the cedar rafters of the ceiling. Befo whinedand ran to the door, as if inviting his master to follow; and Techeecheedid not cease to exhort him to hasten. Besides all this, there were nowheard the cries of men and clashing of arms, as if the battle wereraging 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 partfrom him more, she yet uttered, with wild sobbings,
"Farewell, Juan, farewell; farewell, my brother--we will never see eachother more!"
"What meanest thou, my sister? Hold me by the arm--Tarry not, or weshall 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 i
mpossible to express the mingled tenderness and vehemence withwhich she uttered these words. Poignant grief darkened in her eyes, inwhich glimmered the light of the most passionate love; and all the whileshe shed floods of tears. Unable to comprehend an agitation soextraordinary, and valedictions which he thought little short ofinsanity, he grasped her by the hand, and endeavoured to draw her afterhim. She resisted even with screams, until, utterly confounded, andsomewhat incensed by opposition so unreasonable and inopportune, heturned again to remonstrate, and perhaps rebuke. But the reproach wasbanished from his lips, before they had given it utterance. She againflung her arms around his neck, and muttered with tones that went to hisheart,
"I cannot go with you, Juan--Oh my brother! pardon me, my brother, anddo not curse me. Bid me farewell, Juan, bid me farewell for ever--I loveyou Juan, I love you too much!--Now I can live no more, Juan, I can liveno more--Farewell! farewell! farewell!" And flinging from his arms, asif from a serpent that had suddenly stung her to the heart, she utteredanother shriek, and fled through the burning door by which she hadentered.
Juan remained fixed to the spot, as if struck by a thunderbolt; andbefore he could banish the words of the thrice-unhappy victim of passionfrom his ears, there rushed into the chamber, with furious shouts, arabble of Spanish soldiers, blood-stained, and begrimed with smoke andcinders, the leader of whom struck the Ottomi dead with a single thrustof his spear, while the others rushed upon Juan, some crying out tokill, and others to spare him.
"Hands off!" cried Najara, throwing himself betwixt them and Juan."Remember orders,--the general's orders!--The king, senor Juan? Where isthe king?"
"Unhand me, villains!" cried Juan, endeavouring to shake off thesoldiers who held him fast, while Befo attempted vainly to give himassistance:--"Kill me, if you will, but save my sister, my poorsister--Quick! for the love of heaven, quick!" he cried, observing somedart towards the door through which she had vanished: "Cortes willreward you--save her! save her!"
"Follow them, Bernal, man," cried Najara to the historian, who had justplucked his spear from the body of Techeechee--"What dost thou withslaying gray-headed Indians? Follow La Monjonaza,--five-hundredcrowns,--ay, by my troth, and call them five thousand--to him thatrecovers her alive! Ah, senor Juan! your dog has more brains thanyourself. But for his howling, you must e'en have roasted, man. Comealong, come along--Be of good heart; there is no fear now of either axeor rope."
With such words as these, he drew Juan from the chamber, and supportinghis tottering steps between himself and another, and bidding the rest ofthe party to surround them, so as to guard against any outbursting ofrage from their excited companions, he bore him from the scene ofbloodshed and conflagration.