Captain from Castile (65 page)

As usual, Cortes drove hard. Pedro spent three days with Sandoval in Tepeyac. He had hardly returned when the General dispatched him to Alvarado. A week passed from the night of arrival, and he had not yet been given a breathing space to see Catana.

Cortes, like every other eminent leader, believed in the importance of small things. He could think in bold outline, but he was also a master of detail. The checkmate of a king often depends on the early move of an insignificant pawn. Having determined that the fate of New Spain

hung on a proper representation at the Spanish court and having decided that Pedro de Vargas was the man best suited to this office, he did not propose, if he could help it, to leave so weighty a matter to the chance of Pedro's sentimental whims. Catana Perez might be only an atom in the strain and stress of forces that would make or mar the future of the Conquest; but at the moment she was an important atom.

Therefore, one late afternoon, while Pedro was still absent, he dispatched Juan Diaz of his household to fetch Catana to him. When she had been ushered into the large upper room at the fort, and the attendants had withdrawn, Cortes, under cover of pleasant introductory phrases, studied her with the finesse of an artist.

Physically she pleased him. He liked her slender but shapely hands, which accorded with the long oval of her face. He liked too the arrangement of her hair, curving in two black bands over her ears. If her mouth was too large, it lent her character and spirit, as did the dark, heavy-lidded eyes. She had a fine bust and figure.

But he was concerned with her psychologically, and here he felt unsure. He knew how difficult it is to pry a determined woman loose from a brilliant match if at the same time she is in love with her future husband. How to set about it? Gatana's reputation for courage did not suggest intimidation as the right technique. Bribery seemed equally doubtful, since he could offer nothing better than what he wanted her to give up. He disliked more sinister measures if they could be avoided. So he felt his way, alert for an opening.

At first, overwhelmed by shyness and puzzled as to the reason of her summ.ons, she was unresponsive, until at last she ventured: —

"Is my lord de Vargas here. Your Excellency?"

"No, senora, he's in Tacuba at present with Captain de Alvarado."

"I was afraid there had been an accident," she murmured, "that perhaps that was the reason—"

"No, he's in fine fettle. Is rendering good service to this company. A man of high promise—Captain de Vargas."

He noticed her cheeks flush with the praise and her eyes kindle. By God, he had overlooked tlie romantic lead! He had forgotten the self-sacrifice that young fools are sometimes capable of! It was worth probing.

"Tell me one thing, senora," he went on, with a confidential smile, "what's your real feeling toward Pedro de Vargas?"

"My real feeling, Your Excellency?"

"Yes, your attitude—call it what you please."

"Why, I love him."

"Love him?"

She nodded, staring down at her hands.

Cortes laughed. "Oh, come, senora! Anything but that!"

She looked up, startled; and he thrust home his point.

"Want him, yes—I can understand that—but love?" The General waxed eloquent. "Love? Senora, love seeks to give, not to get, desires the honor and success of the loved one." He sighed. "It is rare. Indeed, yes! But such, I take it, is not your feeling toward Captain de Vargas."

Catana faltered, "I don't understand. Your Excellency."

"How now! Is it not true that you are marrying him?"

"It is true that he asked me to marry him," she breathed.

"Pooh! Don't let's quibble. He tells me that he is going to marry you. He, a man of good house, fine prospects, a man whom I had chosen to represent us before His Caesarean Majesty, marry you! Forfeit his career! And you tell me that you love him!"

The masterful face, pale above its beard, frightened her; but she met Cortes's hot eyes without flinching.

"Your Excellency is mistaken. Don't you think I know what he is— what I am? Do you think I intended to marry him? I'd rather die than hurt him. Your Excellency doesn't need to tell me about love and what I ought to do." Then, shocked at such plain-speaking to the Commander-in-Chief, she added, "I crave Your Excellency's pardon."

Cortes continued to stare at her, but his stare was deflated. He was like a man who, lifting his foot to mount a step, finds no step there. He had mobilized his strategy without any need for it.

"Hm-m!" he recovered. "Ha! You mean to tell me that you won't marry him even if he urges it?"

"I had made up my mind to that some time ago. Your Excellency."

"Indeed? Well then, it's good, very good. I apologize, sefiora. I had not expected to find you so—so"—he substituted noble for easy —"yes, of so noble and sensitive a nature. One doesn't encounter that sort of thing often. I suppose then you'll remain Captain de Vargas's cara amiga. And in that case I envy him."

She shook her head. "My lord Pedro does not wish it, Your Excellency. He feels that it is not God's will."

''Que cosa!" Cortes raised his eyebrows. "Of course one must follow one's conscience. But his loss will be another man's gain." Struck by a sudden whim, he leaned forward and took her hand. "Even I, senora, would be very much your servant—if you pleased."

She evaded the hint as lightly as it was made. "No, Your Excellency's servant."

When she rose to leave, and they were standing face to face, Cortes said, impulsively for once: "By my conscience, seiiora, you are a right member of our old company. It is upon you and our comrades that I can rely. Also you can rely on me. I'll see to it, with the help of God, that you are made masters in this land—you yourself by no means least. You shall choose your own encomienda and villages. You'll be the forebear of an illustrious family in New Spain." He paused a moment, his eyes on the future. "Yes, we are founding a new nobleza here. Do not regret Pedro de Vargas too much. By blood and fortune, his ties are in the Old World; you belong to the New."

She made him a curtsy. Even Cortes could not see the emptiness behind her eyes.

Taking her hand again, he raised it to his Hps. "I honor you more, my dear, than most ladies I have had the chance to meet." And with a strange pulse of feeling in his voice, he added, "Much more."

Then, opening for her, he called to the men below, "Attend the Senora Perez."

But, riding home, Catana realized that the door which had been closing was now locked and sealed oflScially, irrevocably.

LXXI

When pedro returned from Tacuba, he lost no time before calling on Catana but found that she had walked up to the pine woods above the house. Directed by Maria de Estrada, he discovered her leaning against a tree, her eyes on the distance of the lake.

At the sound of footsteps beside her, she turned and, seeing who it was, exclaimed, "Seiior!" Then, her face lighting up with the familiar smile, she instinctively threw her arms around him.

''Querida!" he said. "Have I missed you! I've been nothing but the General's shuttlecock these ten days. But, by God, I'll pay myself back now. It's all arranged. Father Olmedo is marrying us tonight."

To his surprise, her arms dropped, and without answering she turned away, gazing apparently at the crumbling remnants of Tenochtitlan across the lake.

"No, sefior, I don't want to marry you."

Amazement in Pedro eclipsed every other feeling. He had not taken seriously the delay she had asked for, assuming that once back in camp, their marriage was a foregone conclusion.

''Por Dios, why on earth not?"

Struggling with her weakness, she could not reply for a moment.

"Why on earth not?" he repeated.

There was no use telling him the truth. That would only provoke argument. Conscious of her own limitations, she wanted to make this short.

She forced herself to speak casually. "Well, senor, as Juan Garcia says, love is one thing, marriage is another. I'd rather keep what we've had" (she touched her breast) "here, than watch it fade out. Don't you see?"

"Cursed if I do. You and I haven't been only romantic lovers: we've been comrades. That's what marriage is."

She hurried on. "Then there's another thing. We won't always be in camp. For a husband, I want som.eone of my own sort. No looking down or up. On account of the children, too. When you get married, you've got to think of these things."

"You never thought of them before."

"It didn't matter when we were lovers."

Pedro's astonishment gave way to hurt. "But, Catana, I've told you why we couldn't go on as we were. I've told it to Father Olmedo. He agrees with me. Are we to deny God?"

"No, senor. We could not go on as we were." It was torment to keep her eyes dry, her throat clear; to make her act convincing in spite of the voices in her mind that cried out to him. "Besides, there's this," she added, borrowing from Cortes. "I want to stay here. I feel as if this is my country. You've got to go home. You say you don't, senor; but you've got to. That's your place."

And now jealousy took a fling at him. His fist clenched.

"I'd like to know the bottom of this," he growled. "I've a mind to give you a belting and get it out of you. Look you, has some other gallant, while I've been on duty—"

"No."

"I have my doubts. Who's this husband you intend to marry?"

She had thought of no one. Improvising, she said: "Perhaps Juan, perhaps someone else. I don't know."

"Juan Garcia! Has he —'"'

"No. He's never said a word. But he would have me if I asked him."

'']uan!" Pedro repeated. He balanced in a hot vacancy.

Would it never end? Catana asked herself. She couldn't stand much more. She wanted to press her forehead down on his shoulder and give

up.

His pride got the best of it. After all, he had kept faith with her. He had been ready to sacrifice anything to do it. And she rejected him. Should he go down on his knees to her? Hardly.

"So it's your final word?" he said at last. "You won't change your mind?"

"No, sefior. . . . I've told you why."

He drew himself up. "Very well, if that's your wish."

They gazed at each other across the past that lay between them. So much to be said that could not be said.

"Good-by, Catana."

"Good-by."

He turned and descended the hill without looking back. When he had disappeared, she sank down at the foot of the tree; then heard the beat of his horse's hoofs, slow at first, quicken and grow faint. She remembered the dawn in the pine hut two years ago on their march from the coast. Then the hoofbeats had marked the beginning, as they now marked the end. All that mattered in her life bracketed by a sound.

That night, Pedro informed the General that he was free to represent the company in Spain when the time should come.

"Capital!" approved Cortes.

Rumors of the breach between Captain de Vargas and Catana Perez made a stir in the army. When the gossip reached Juan Garcia at the end of a hard day's fight, he refused to believe it and, stalking out into the night, strode up the causeway to the square fort blocking it, where Cortes and his staff had their quarters.

"Captain de Vargas," he said to the guardsman on duty.

Being admitted, he was shown to Pedro's room, where he waited till the officers' mess was over. He waited some time. When Pedro came in at last, Garcia felt an odd stiff"ness, which was all the more striking as they had not seen each other for a week.

"Vaya, comrade," he said, "you're so much of an officer these days that I have to get at you through walls and sentries. I've been missing you. How goes it, boy?"

"Excellent well. And with you?"

"As you see, companero. Stiff" from this cursed fighting every day in the city. Bruised and sore. But it won't be long now with the bastards.

I give 'em another month at the outside. After that, on my honor, I'll sleep a month by the clock."

Pedro nodded. "Yes, it's getting to the end. I suppose after that you'll settle down here? Take up some land?" His eyes narrowed. "Take a wife perhaps?"

Again the sense of ice where Garcia had only known warmth. He swallowed and stared.

"Maybe. I guess so. Like yourself—you're settling down, aren't you, and getting hitched? I'd always figured the three of us would stick together. Which reminds me there's a fool story around—about you and Catana, that you've fallen out. Nothing to it, I know, but I thought I'd tell you."

The round bull eyes rested on Pedro in suspense. Garcia hadn't been able to keep a quaver out of his voice.

"Fallen out—no," returned de Vargas. "We're still friends."

"Still? I— Friends, comrade?"

It was the moment that Pedro had dreaded, but he faced it now all the more easily because of Catana's reference to Garcia as a possible husband. Once more his pride gripped him.

"I asked her to marry me, but she would not," he said carelessly.

"You mean"—Garcia's dismay suddenly became truculent—"you mean you left it at that?"

"Certes. What else could I do?"

"You could take her by the scruff of the neck and marry her. You know that's what she wants. What reason did she give?"

"Excuses." Pedro added, coldly casual, "She spoke of marrying you."

"Me!" Garcia planted both fists on his sides. "Me! Now, look here, boy, we'll talk straight: we've been close enough for that. Excuses, you said, and that's the word for it. Excuses because she loves you so much that she won't stand in your way. Deep down, you know it's that—and you accepted the excuses!"

Pedro flushed. "If you want straight talk, Juan, I'll tell you that this isn't much of your business."

"What's come over you?"

In the tense pause, Pedro's main effort was to keep his conscience at bay.

"Nothing's come over me. You talk as if I had broken my word to Catana. I did nothing of the kind. Ask her yourself."

Garcia overlooked the denial as if not worth discussing.

"I suppose it's no longer my business what you are going to do when this is over?"

"I don't mind telling you. I'm for Spain on affairs at court for the company.