Roger the Bold: A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico

by F. S. Brereton

It was hopeless. The priest merely shook his head and beckoned to them.

"Try him with your tongue, Tamba," said Roger, in desperation. "Ah, I remember that you said you could not make them understand. I will try Spanish."

"We have nothing to do with your enemies," he said sternly, standing to his full height. "We wish you no harm. Let us have an interpreter, and we will explain."

Again he met with failure, while the priest still beckoned politely, and answered in soft tones. Roger looked about him desperately, and noticed that the other priests had now entered the cage, and had taken up their places near at hand. He measured them with his eye, and wondered whether he could kill them all if he fell upon them. Then he recollected the crowd outside, and pondered.

"Shall we go or stay?" he demanded of Tamba. "We could clear these fellows out of this and bar the door. Then they would be unable to get at us. Anything rather than be sacrificed."

"Perhaps that is not their wish, master," answered Tamba. "They speak softly to us, and there is no harshness. Supposing we went, deciding to resist only when they attempt to lay hands on us or to lash us. For to drive them from the cage and hold it would merely mean that they would shoot clouds of arrows at us. You can see their bows."

Roger looked, and saw that every man in the assembled throng carried a small bow and a quiver of arrows, while many also had a long club-shaped weapon thrust into belts about their waists. This was their sword, called the "maquahuitl," and consisted of a stick some three and a half feet long, about four inches thick at the biggest end, and was armed on either side with small blades of obsidian, a stone of extreme hardness, and capable of taking a razor edge. Indeed, these weapons could give a terrible wound, though the first stroke, if it met Spanish armour, was apt to break the stone, when the weapon became an ordinary club. In addition, others of the crowd carried lances, and a few slings, with a bag of stones about their shoulders. All were dressed in linen garments, which were clean and well made. It was obvious that resistance at this point was out of the question, and therefore Roger decided to put the best face on the matter.

"We will go with them," he said at length; "and do you keep a sharp eye on me, Tamba. I don't mean to be slaughtered without a struggle, and if I see that it is coming to that, I will make a rush at the nearest man with arms and seize them. One of those swords of theirs would suit me, though I would rather it were heavier and bigger. Now then; we will move. We are ready," he said, turning to the priests. "Keep close, Tamba. I don't like the look of these fellows."

With a bow he intimated that they would follow, and a minute later found them outside the cage. Then the procession reformed. The priests lined up on either side of their prisoners, the one in scarlet taking his place in front. A horn was blown, and they set off for the far side of the square, the warriors in their gorgeous trappings falling in behind, while the crowd followed in any order, their eyes fixed on the tall figure of the white man. Presently the procession passed out of the square, and Roger noted with a qualm that their steps were trending towards a gigantic tower which stood some little way in front. Was it the sacrificial tower, where men were slain to appease the god of war—the Mexican Mars? Roger looked askance at Tamba, and noted that he too was ill at ease. Then he turned his attention to his surroundings, marvelling at the beauty of the scene and at the thousands of well-dressed and prosperous people who surrounded them. Indeed, Mexico was en fête. The surroundings of the square were thronged with the people, and all had their eyes fixed upon the white prisoner. They greeted his coming with shouts of joy and admiration, while mothers held their children up above their heads that they might see. On every side the flat roofs bore their human load, while numerous adjacent towers were black along that side which faced the larger one, the nodding of plumes and the gay colour of the clothing showing that people were also crowded there.

"We cause some attention to be shown," said Roger, beneath his breath. "It would seem as though these Mexicans wish to do honour to us, for watch how some throw themselves on their knees as we pass, while others wave their hands to us. Perhaps, after all, our fears are groundless."