Roger the Bold: A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico

by F. S. Brereton

"Cool and calm," thought Roger. "Says what he means, and sees that his orders are carried out. Trusts his inferiors, and believes that he and his men are born fighters."

"The white giant, the interpreter of the party. At last the net has fallen round them," Cortes was saying to himself as he looked at Roger, and yet without giving those who were present the impression that he did more than glance at the prisoner. "A bold fighter, I am told. Skilled with the crossbow, and not without skill in ordering battle. His few weeks of authority have made a man of him, and he looks dignified and strong, though only a lad; but he must be frightened."

"The captive," said the leader of the troop of horse, anxious to make his voice heard. "According to orders, generalissimo, I rode from the town last night, and——"

"You have done well, though I like not the loss of five men," exclaimed Cortes, cutting him short, and showing that every piece of information was brought to him. Indeed, he was wonderfully served by numerous spies. "Stand back while I question the man. Your name?"

Roger could see the captain of his escort turn sallow under his bronzed skin as the words were addressed in Spanish, and almost smiled at the flush and the startled look which the unhappy leader of horse displayed as he answered.

"You are the interpreter of this beggarly ship which came from England. You went ashore to the south, and the ship left you there, being chased by a Spaniard. You then made your way to Mexico, where I hear that you occupy the position once given to me by their hateful priests."

"It is true. You have the story correctly," said Roger.

"And your comrades sailed for these parts because of a golden disc which was captured. Who has that disc? Speak."

For a moment Roger wondered whether he should tell his story. Then he reflected that the probabilities were that Alvarez, the traitor, still had it, though he could not be sure. Perhaps there was some trick in this question, and, in any case, if Alvarez still had the disc, and was keeping it for his own private services, as seemed now to be most likely, then it would be better to leave that matter a secret. He could answer truthfully with a denial of any knowledge.

"The golden disc," he said quietly; "the one with the sun on one side and a plan on the other? I cannot say where it is. Doubtless Sir Thomas could tell you."