Captain from Castile (66 page)

"Oho!" Garcia snorted. "I thought as much. The Lady Luisa de Carvajal, the big marriage, the old-fashioned stuff! Got you in the end. For 'a while, I thought the New World and Catana had changed all that."

Pedro reflected that there was no use debating the appeal of a career with one of Garcia's background. He was born and remained only a ranker.

"Think better of it, comrade," the big man went on, "think better of it Don't sell your life for trumpery. You've got the real things here: people who love you, great chances, a wonderful venture. Why, hombre, we're only at the beginning. Make yourself a grandee of New Spain with more leagues to your hacienda than you'd have acres at home. Make Catana your lady. Ride over tonight with Father Olmedo and marry her, I say."

For an instant Pedro felt like taking his friend's hand in agreement. He wanted to see the familiar light in Garcia's eyes. He thought of Catana behind him on his horse, this tormented episode forgotten, the old comradeship back again, a new page turned. But on second thought, and still angry at Catana's refusal, he shook his head.

"No...Listen, Juan. If you think it's a trifling venture to speak for this company before His Majesty in the teeth of our enemies, I don t agree with you. The General honors me with his confidence. I'm a Cortes man here or there. And what I do there will count here. Perhaps I'll come back some day—who knows?"

"We were talking about Catana."

A sulden anger leaped up in de Vargas. Why should Garcia be championing her to him? What right had anyone--

"She's a good deal in your mind, Juan. Well, she's free."

Without a word, Garcia put on his steel cap. Then he said: "You're both a good deal in my mind. The trouble is you always will be. I haven't the gift of slipping friendship off like a worn shirt. Maybeyou're right with your kings and courts. I don't understand such things...Good luck!"

"Thanks for everything, Juan. Curse me if I ever forget it-or you. The other nodded and went out.

Several weeks later, Tenochtitlan, the once-magnificent, fell to Cortes. It lay, a heap of ruins, a charnel-house containing thousands of unburied corpses. Its overthrow was a masterpiece of military genius, valor, and enterprise. Everyone knew that it would take its place among immortal deeds of arms and felt proud to have had a share in it. Too bad that the once-glittering Valley with its palaces, gardens, cities, and temples had been laid waste, but such was war.

One by one, the captains, Pedro among them, congratulated the General and hailed the completed conquest. Cortes did not smile, but nodded gravely to each of them. He stood on the pinnacle of success, but he looked worn and haggard in the August sunlight. Perhaps, like others, he recalled the splendors of the ruined city; or perhaps the stench of putrefying bodies spoiled the keenness of triumph. So noisome was the odor that the Spaniards withdrew from their hard-won prize and moved to Coyoacan on the mainland.

"Well, my friend," Pedro observed to Sandoval, as they rode side by side across the familiar causeway, "we can lay off our harness at last. The work's done. Little we dreamed that the expedition would yield a return like this, eh, when we sighted San Juan de Ulua? A grand success, vie jo!''

Sandoval grinned. "Everything you say," he joked in his harsh stammer. "But you can't deny, Redhead, that the success has a bad smell."

Almost at once the army began splitting up. Detachments were sent to explore the lands beyond Mexico—to Michoacan, to Oaxaca—in all directions. The epic part of the conquest had ended; the mopping-up process, the colonizing period, began. Honduras, Guatemala, as future zones of invasion, were discussed; and chief captains, like Olid and Alvarado, made bids for this or that command. Psychologically, too, the army disintegrated, demanding pay, lands, the fulfillment of Cortes's lavish promises.

Since he was not immediately concerned in these developments, Pedro chafed to get away. Executive routine did not replace the old adventure; the more superficial comradeships could not fill the void left by Garcia and Catana. From time to time he saw both of them, of course; but the common interests were gone. An unhappy constraint

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that could not be shrugged off marked these meetings, which by tacit consent grew rarer.

Meanwhile, the plans for his departure hung fire. The ruins of Tenochtitlan yielded only a pittance of gold, and the torture of prisoners, like Guatemozin and the chief of Tacuba, added little. However much Cortes and the royal treasurer, Julian de Alderete, exerted themselves, it would take months to assemble funds worthy of His Majesty, not to speak of appeasing the soldiers.

Then at last cautiously Pedro broached the topic of Coatl's gift.

"Why did you not declare it before?" demanded Cortes ominously.

"I awaited the opportune time, Sefior General."

"How much is it?"

Pedro could not be definite. He had had but a glimpse by uncertain light. Some thousands of pesos.

"I've a great mind to confiscate the whole of it to the profit of the Crown and this company as a penalty for your failure to report it."

Pedro suggested that the gift had been made to him personally by a cacique independent of Spanish jurisdiction, and that Cortes might encounter legal difficulties. Besides, Pedro alone knew where the gold was to be found.

"A touch of the boot or the screws might elicit the information," said Cortes.

"And that might be a mistake, Your Excellency. Then others would know that the gold is available. Now only you and I know."

"Hm-m," the General pondered. "Yes. Well, what's your thought?"

Bargaining began, shrewd, sharp, and realistic. Seated on either side of a table, eyes veiled, mouths hard, and wits alert, they forged out an agreement. The company was to get nothing; for, as Cortes remarked, v/hat people don't know, they don't miss. His Majesty, instead of one fifth as usual, would have two fifths. A half of Cortes's fifth would be added to the share of the Crown. Pedro held out for the remaining two fifths, arguing services and expenses. Since, without him, the gold would not have been forthcoming anyway, it did not seem too high a claim. Finally Cortes gave in. Then two copies of the agreement were j made and signed, thus insuring secrecy; for it would benefit neither Cortes nor de Vargas if the company learned that it had been mulcted of its share.

On the whole a sound business deal from Pedro's standpoint. If a large weight of gold was to be transported from Cacahuamilpa to the coast and thence to Spain, it could only be by co-operation with the General. Better three hundred thousand pesos (as Pedro figured it),

which would leave him an exceedingly rich man, than seven hundred thousand buried in a cavern.

But when secretly, by using the hundred Zapotec warriors whom Coatl had contributed and whom Pedro had prevailed on to remain with him, the treasure had been moved to Coyoacan, and the General realized the extent of it, he burst into fury.

"You're a rascal, son Pedro," he seethed, not without admiration. "If I had known the size of this hoard, be damned if I would have let you get off with such a figure. And on second thoughts, be damned if I will now. Hand me that paper we wrote. I'll have my full fifth, sirrah, and you'll pay another fifth to His Majesty."

Pedro respectfully declined. As it happened, he did not have the paper upon him. It was in safekeeping. And as a matter of fact, he must insist on the agreement.

''Ton insist!"

"A bargain's a bargain, Sefior General."

"God help me," grieved Cortes, "that I am so beset with money-minded men and sharpers even among those of our company I most trust! Have you no feeling for the King or for me? Must even you, a hidalgo, cling to gold rather than show loyalty and gratitude?"

But when de Vargas failed to respond to this sentimental appeal except by expressions of devotion, Cortes's eyes twinkled.

"Well, hijo mioy devil take it, if you use as much management at court as you have in this business, you will do well. You may be a rascal, but you're not a fool. And of the two, I'd rather be represented by the one than the other. You show promise, son. I could not have haggled better myself."

Other delays followed. A ship had to be readied, the proper pilot and crew chosen. The gold, melted into bars, was furtively carried to Villa Rica under guard. January went by before Pedro at last took leave of Cortes.

After a farewell dinner with the captains remaining at Coyoacan, the General drew de Vargas into his own room and closed the door. The jovial air he had worn at table was gone.

"A final word, Pedrito," he said. "Or shall I call you Daniel? For you are sailing to the lions' den. It's no easy thing to take seven hundred thousand pesos' weight of gold from here to Spain. You travel with death. But I have faith in you. You've ripened in the last four years and mixed brain with brawn. You know enough by now, I hope, to trust no man. You'll watch that gold night and day. Everything depends on it—more perhaps than you think."

He paused a moment, his dark eyes lambent. Then he went on.

"Here's your problem. Granting good weather and no act of God or the King's enemies, you finally reach Spain. But will you be welcomed there as one returning from the conquest of an empire with solid proof of it in gold bullion for His Majesty? You will not. You will land in jail unless you use more sense than our first envoys, Montejo and Puertocarrero. I hear that they all but lost their shirts. As you know, any ship from hence is subject to the Council of the Indies, which has its officers in every port. The president of that Council is Juan Rodriguez de Fonseca, Bishop of Burgos. And His Grace hates our guts as he has those of every true servant of Spain for the last twenty-five years. God amend him!"

Pedro put in, "They say his sister is to marry Governor Velasquez of Cuba."

"Aye, and he has the point of vdew of the Governor. To him, you, I, and all our company are malignant rebels. Gold sent by us has been filched from his brother-in-law and so in part from him, since he would have had his cut of it. Add to this that his kinsman, Diego de Silva, is no doubt stuffing him with Hes against us, and I ask you what would happen if you and the treasure fell into his hands. As for the gold, I grant that His Majesty would receive most of it in the end, though that would not help us. As for you and your share, you can draw your own conclusion."

Pedro grinned. "In that case, I should not long be interested in earthly treasures, Senor General."

"Exactly," Cortes nodded. "Not long. From the moment you reach Spain, my son, you must keep clear of any prison Diego de Silva has the key of. Still, you must land, and you must land with between three and four tons of gold bars. Where? Flow? Here's my thought on it."

Drawing his knife, he scratched roughly on the table top an outline of the Spanish coast.

"Palos," he said with a jab. "Sanlucar, Cadiz. Now, look you, the friary of La Rabida stands here on the Rio Tinto a half league seaward from Palos. And look you, here are the dunes of the Arenas Cxordas running east from there to Sanlucar."

"I know them well, sir."

"Good. Then you know that there's not a more desolate stretch in Spain. My thought is that you'll watch your chance to stand in at night. You'll land your gold below La Rabida. It's been placed in easily carried chests for that purpose. ... By the way, I hear you're taking back some Indians."

"Yes, Your Excellency, fifteen of the Zapotecs. They are curious to cross the Great Water, as they call it, and they have confidence in me. Do you object?"

"On the contrary. They'll make a good show at court. Also, when it comes to gold, they're more to be trusted than Spaniards. They'll land with you and carry the chests up to the friary. There you'll leave those consigned to His Majesty in charge of the Father Superior, with instructions to release them only upon personal order from the Emperor. I say personal. And you'll get a signed receipt from said father that these chests are in his care. Here is a letter to him from me stating their number. As to your own property, son Pedro, it's none of my business, but if I were you I would have my Indians bury it in a place well marked by you, for to carry so much bullion through Spain needs an armed escort which you'll have no time to secure at first. And if you leave your gold with the Emperor's share, it may be difficult to claim afterwards."

As usual Pedro admired his commander's grasp of detail. In imagination, Cortes projected himself into the future and foresaw every contingency.

"The ship?" asked Pedro.

"She will anchor next day at Palos and discharge her cargo, the gold not appearing on the bill."

"Your Excellency has given orders to the pilot, Alvarez de Huelva?"

"I have done better. I have told him to take all orders from you as captain of the ship. I ought not to tie your hands in any way. But, mark you, keep an eye on this man Alvarez, and not a word to him that you're leaving the gold at La Rabida. Let him think it's buried in the dunes. He's the best pilot I could find, but mariners are a class to themselves, and it's often but a step from sailor to pirate."

"After La Rabida, Your Excellency?"

"That's up to you. I have only one piece of advice. Waste no time at La Rabida, but put leagues between you and any of the ports where the Indian Council controls. Your kinsman, the Duke of Medina Sidonia, is your best resource. Be sure to get off a messenger to His Majesty, warning him of your action, lest evil tongues busy themselves against you. Then act as circumstances require. You'll carry my letters not only to the Emperor but to my friends. You'll have your own backing. You have what's still more important, gold which speaks with the tongue of angels and greases every lock. Do what you will, only win our case before His Majesty."

Cortes broke off, took a turn up and down the room, then with a change of manner stopped in front of Pedro.

"Captain de Vargas, you and I and the rest of our company have done great deeds together. We have shared defeat and victory. The world will long talk of our wars and wonder how so few could accomplish so much. We are not saints. We have fought for profit, glory, power, but not only for these." The General stopped to kiss a medal of Our Lady which hung on the gold chain about his neck. "I dare also to think that we have fought for God and with God, since He has wonderfully helped us, that the light of the Gospel might shine where there was once darkness. Also we have fought for Spain. You and I have been comrades together in this. Now you carry the future of it with you."