Captain from Castile (45 page)

After Dona Marina had taken her place behind Cortes, he began speaking in a measured, impersonal voice, pausing now and then to give the interpreter time to translate. The lion resonance of his tones alternated with Marina's gentle, unready Spanish.

"Malinche," he said, fixing his opaque glance on Cortes, "men fight for various things, for land and possessions or fame or to defend their hearths. But men fight best and are happiest to die for what has no price—for the love and defense of their gods."

He stopped, and Marina's voice took up the tale like a plaintive echo. When she had finished, Cortes nodded. On the point of religious zeal, Spaniard and Aztec agreed perfectly.

"Malinche," the Uei Tlatoani continued, "you and those with you are of the kindred of the sun. You came from beyond the sea, fulfilling prophecies that concerned the god, Quetzalcoatl. Portents foretold your coming. Who was I to resist the messengers of the gods? Though you were but few (so few that one of my houses alone contains you) and I can call to arms a thousand warriors for every one of yours, have I raised a finger against you? Though my people grieved, accusing me of weakness and cowardice, have I heeded their murmurs? When you required that I and my chiefs, chosen leaders of our nation, should accept your king, Don Carlos, as lord, did we refuse, even though we have never seen him? When you demanded tribute for this king, did I not provide you with such store of gold and jewels as no man has hitherto beheld—yes, not only the wealth of our land and cities, but the very treasure of Axayacatl, my father? Are not these things true, Malinche?"

Again Cortes nodded, adding a wave of the hand that expressed gratitude, but not too much gratitude. It implied that, after all, Montezuma had acted properly under the circumstances, and that to have behaved otherwise would have been unworthy of him.

Shifting from foot to foot, Pedro de Vargas wondered what the Indian emperor was getting at. To his youthful assurance, it was clear that if Montezuma's compliance had not been forthcoming, it would have been exacted by the right of conquest—an unquestioned right. His attention drifted to the rich ornamentation of the throne, to the marble-lined walls of the council-chamber, to the precious wood forming the low ceiling. In what luxury the unchristened dog lived!

Montezuma was saying: "Why have I done these things? From co\vardice? My fame as a war chief does not point to that. Why then? Because ever, during my whole Hfe, I have had but one end—to serve and please the gods; because it seemed their will, in omens and portents, that you should be accepted and favored. That you spoke of other gods than ours did not trouble me, for there are many gods, and often one is known by different names. That you cast down from their temples the gods of the Mayans and Totonacs did not concern us, for they were not our gods. When you besought me that you might be allowed to set up an altar to your own Lord here in this palace, I did not object. "When you forbade the sacrifice of slaves and prisoners, thus depriving the Heavenly Ones of human blood and us of consecrated meat, I was still patient. Though day by day you yourselves eat the flesh of your Man God at what you call the mass, it might be that you were right and we were wrong; and as to this the Heavenly Ones were silent. But still it was not enough: you demanded more."

He clenched his swarthy fist on the arm of the throne, then relaxed it, studying Cortes's inscrutable face, as Marina interpreted.

Glancing sideways, Pedro saw Luis Marin impatiently gnawing the comer of his red mustache. Alvarado lifted a jeweled hand in front of his mouth to hide a yawn. Olid's eyes showed a yellow glint as they rested on Montezuma's crown.

It did not occur to any of them that the Aztec leader might have a grain of right and justice on his side. Such tolerance was unknown. Convinced that the Indian gods were devils, it took self-control on the part of the Spaniards to listen to such babble.

"Indeed," Montezuma went on, "your priest, Olmedo, spoke truth when he related to me what he calls The Commandments, one of which says that your god is a jealous god. It was not enough that at last I permitted you to place the Woman and Child in one of the temples of our chief teocalli. You must lay your hands upon our Lord Huitzilopochtli himself! You must abase and tread him underfoot! You must tear out the heart of our people—you who deny us the right of sacrifice—in order to lay that heart at the feet of your teules! Well, then, at last the gods have spoken."

This time Marina's translation was hardly necessary. The eyes of the cavaliers were fixed intently on Montezuma before she began to speak. They saw a new man, no longer the meek and pliant figurehead who had curried favor with them, who had supinely performed their bidding —very different from the Montezuma they had seen in tears that day when Cortes loaded him with irons to teach him a lesson, while the

murderers of Escalante burned alive in the courtyard outside. The dog seemed transfigured with a new strength, purposeful, menacing,

"Ah!" returned Cortes blandly. "Ask him what the gods said. To whom did they speak?"

The question was only half-ironic. The General's companions did not find it ironic at all. They had no doubt that Satan communicated with his ministers.

Montezuma leaned forward. "To whom else should they speak but to the holy men, the chief priests of the Tenochcas?" Then, bowing his head reverently, he added: "Thus speak the gods of the Tenochcas, the Lord Huitzilopochtli, God of War, the Lord Tlaloc, God of Rain, the Lord Xipe, God of Spring, and all the other gods of my people: 'Lo, we have made the Tenochcas mighty upon earth: we have filled their granaries with food, their treasuries with tribute. We have given them victory in war and dominion over many peoples. An age long we have shielded and fostered them, while they served us and fed our nostrils with the smoke of sacrifice. But now they have turned aside; now they starve our altars; now they leave our images to be overthrown and destroyed. So, therefore, Tenochcas, hear our words. We are departing from you. You are no more our children but helpless slaves. Drought shall fall upon you and pestilence and war, you shall perish miserably from the earth. Except now, unless it be too late, you turn again to us, lay hands upon the evildoers from beyond the world, these white pretenders who are not teules, stretch them upon our altars, pour out their blood to us in sacrifice. Behold, we, the gods, have spoken it.' "

Marina's gentle voice sounded hurried and tense; her hands tightened on the back of Cortes's chair. The Spanish officers stood like alert statues. Only Cortes seemed unconcerned. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. But Pedro de Vargas noticed that the page, Orteguilla, suddenly withdrew, and looking again he saw that Cortes had hooked his thumb into his sword belt.

"Seiior Montezuma," he answered with a smile of indulgence, "you are mistaken. If I were you, I would let this brood of devils depart, and a murrain seize them! I would even hasten their going by toppling down every one of their filthy images. Do this and, on my honor, all will be well with you. Our Lord will provide the Tenochcas with plentiful harvests; He will protect them from sickness; my friends and I will shield them in war. Have done with worshiping idols, my lord, as I have told you before, and embrace the Cross. That is my advice."

If a gadfly had stung the Uei Tlatoani, its effect on him could not have been so marked as this speech. Even to the Spaniards, it seemed

reckless. It was plainly no time to be talking conversion. But with regard to the Faith, Cortes, a diplomat in every other respect, never compromised; he took direct methods.

Montezuma half-rose, his eyes blazing, a flash of teeth between his lips. But he did not entirely rise, and an instant later he sank back. Something more potent even than his fanaticism checked and daunted him, as a beast is daunted by its tamer. He might be brave, sincere, and filled with religious zeal, but his stone-age self could not cope with the thrust of Cortes's personality. The primitive in him knuckled under to the more highly evolved man. For a moment he tried to meet the Spaniard's steady gaze, then his eyes fell.

"But why," Cortes went on, "if you wish to sacrifice us to the devil, do you warn us of it? Surprise would have been better. . . . Listen."

The clear, galloping notes of a Spanish trumpet were sounding in the courtyard. Then, one by one, other trumpets here and there took up the call. A prolonged shiver of steel throughout the compound answered.

After a pause, Cortes asked again, "Why warn us?"

Why indeed? A desire for once to abash these masterful white men? A desire for once to speak as a king, expressing the accumulated grievances of the past six months? Or was the reason which Montezuma proceeded to give the right one? His black, reptilian eyes showed nothing.

"Because I have no wish to kill you, Malinche. Because we have been friends."

"Judas!" someone muttered. "False rogue!"

Perhaps the words were louder than the speaker intended. Montezuma looked up.

"I would save you, Malinche," he went on to Cortes. "Leave this country at once; return to your land beyond the sea, and I will hold my people in check. Perhaps the gods will be appeased by other sacrifices. But leave at once."

Plainly Montezuma was temporizing. It was probable that the noise from outside had impressed him.

To his companions' astonishment, Cortes nodded. "At your command, my lord. Our mission has been accomplished. We have visited Your Highness, as our King commanded, and have secured your allegiance. We will return to him, bearing the tribute. But we have no ships, as you know, and others must be built. This will take time. Meanwhile, restrain your people—for their sakes, not ours. I should regret to harm them, but if they stir against us, I shall destroy them, man, woman, and child."

Cortes was a consummate actor. He spoke with an assurance that carried conviction and left Montezuma nonplused. The white men were capable of anything.

"I shall send workmen to help with the ships," agreed the Indian. "I shall do my best to quiet my people." Somehow the ultimatum of the gods had gone flat.

"Your best will not be good enough," Cortes answered, making the most of his ascendancy, "if there is trouble. See to it." He got up and took a step forward, menacing as a drawn crossbow. "I shall regret to leave Tenochtitlan, my lord; but it consoles me that, when we leave, you will accompany us."

Montezuma shrank back when the words had been translated. "I?"

"Of a truth, yes. We shall take you with us to meet our master, the King, who desires to welcome you."

He stood half-smiling while Marina interpreted. If he had decreed death, the Aztec would not have been so shaken. Forlorn in that unknown white \vorld across the mysterious sea, a trophy for these strangers to exliibit!

"Therefore let us hasten the building of the ships, Sefior Montezuma, so that we may depart together. And until then, remember that if your gods were not able to protect their idols from the fire, they are not apt to protect you in case of deceit. . . . Cristobal, set closer guard about this prince. (Translate that, Marina.) And so, Your Highness, we take our leave in ail respect and friendship."

He bowed, one hand on the hilt of his sword, and turning with his captains moved toward the door, head and beard up.

"En conciencia, senores," he said, loud enough for his stern voice to ring back to the solitary figure on the throne, "let us continue to risk something for God."

XLVf//

It was late that night when the council of the principal officers disbanded and Pedro returned to his quarters. No decision had been reached because everything depended on luck. The amval of reinforcements from Spain might turn the trick; and surely Montejo and Puertocarrero had been gone long enough to send back men and supplies. Or it might be possible, playing both ends against the center, to stir up a native revolt against the Aztecs, which would work to Spanish

profit. Or something else might happen. Meanwhile, as a pacifying gesture, work on three ships would be started at Villa Rica; but Martin Lopez, the shipwright, would not press forward the building of them too fast.

Time must be gained, in which luck could operate. The bold front maintained before Montezuma had been tempered at the council by the general appreciation of realities. Pedro was reminded of a dice game, in which he and his companions were casting mains against an invisible opponent who had every advantage. One could not get away from the fact that four hundred men were pitted against at least four hundred thousand, a skiff against an ocean, and that in case of storm, not only courage, not only cunning, but luck, in the ratio of a thousand-to-one chance, was needed. Thus far the company had had a miraculous winning streak; but every tide takes an ebb.

As he walked through the compound, lighted here and there by torches, de Vargas was struck by the difference since morning. Every available cannon stood in position, commanding the gateways. Lookouts manned the walls. Redoubled sentries went their rounds between buildings. War horses were tethered outside their riders' quarters, saddle on back and bridle on peak. Now and then the call of a sentinel: "Alto! Quien vive? Consigna?" rang through the darkness.

Not far from his quarters, Pedro met Garcia, who was standing guard, his huge shadow wheeling in the flare of a torch at one of the house comers.

"So this was what I dreamed, eh?" he growled. "Glad I couldn't remember it! It smells like action soon, comrade. What's the news from headquarters?"

Pedro told him about the ships.

"Bah!" said Garcia. "We didn't scuttle our ships for the fun of building others. Can't you see the General sailing from New Spain because of Indian talk! Outfaced from a prize like this! By God, it makes me laugh! But we ought to shift camp to Tacuba on the mainland."

"Maybe we will."

"And I hope not at the double-quick," Garcia muttered.

Pedro found Catana stretched out on the mat which served as their bed. According to orders, she lay completely dressed in marching gear, headpiece and arms beside her, for henceforth until the alarm died down, no one would undress at night in the Spanish quarters. The diffused radiance of the stars through the square doorway gave a faint twilight.