Old man Pedrarias could scarcely conceal his exultation in thus having, as he imagined, outwitted his prisoner. He could with difficulty refrain from feasting his eyes upon him; nay, he would not, and arraying his features in fatherly concern, he repaired to the prison. Gently he accosted Balboa, assuring him that he had been forced to this step against his will, that the treasurer, Puente, was the accuser, and that he, the governor, was in duty bound to investigate all charges, particularly accusations made by a royal officer. "But be not cast down, my son," said the venerable hypocrite, "neither give way to fear; for the more clearly your actions are brought to light, the brighter will shine your eminent and loyal services."
Going his way, Pedrarias threw himself with all his strength into the prosecution, or rather, I should say, persecution. The laws of Spain, transported to the colonies and administered by passionate and unprincipled men, were capable of almost any construction desired, and hence were as often used to cloak villainy as to punish crime. The law was ever on the side of him who possessed the power to enforce it. All the accusations of former trials were in this instance brought together, and old charges, long since obliterated by royal forgiveness, were renewed. To the oft-told tales of Enciso's imprisonment and Nicuesa's death, were added misdeeds conjectured or invented by the listening sentinel, Garabito, and the rest. Arguello's letter was offered in evidence, and all his enemies had their fling at him. The licentiate, Espinosa, before whom the case was brought, was now a firm adherent of the governor. He had been paid his price in the South Sea command, and the downfall of Balboa would open for him further empire in that quarter.
All is going well; Pedrarias is content. The prisoner's chains are doubled. A little torture now applied might be pleasing in effect. Dropping the mask, Pedrarias enters the prison. "So, villain! you thought to escape me," he cried. "Your governor has become your tool, your plaything; his daughter an idle jest, jilted for a savage strumpet. Thank God! your days are numbered."
Balboa at first made no reply, did not even manifest surprise. He had seen, soon after the trial began, that his judges thirsted for his blood, and that he was foredoomed. Finally he spake. "I am here at your bidding. Since last we pledged friendship I have toiled faithfully in your behalf, and mine. I have suffered many hardships, and have overcome obstacles deemed insurmountable by most men. Never for a moment have I entertained one thought disloyal to my betrothed or you. For the truth of this I refer you to my actions, and call God to witness. If I am guilty, as you say, why am I here? Think you, with four good ships and three hundred devoted men at my command, with fortune beckoning me from every direction, that had I harbored treason I would not have spread my sails and sought a land unknown, beyond all fear of capture? You know, my lord Pedrarias, that I am innocent."
THE SENTENCE.
It was patent to all that Vasco Nuñez was to be sacrificed to the insatiable hate of the hoary-headed governor. Even Espinosa was becoming tired of it, and would have discharged the accused, had it not been for Pedrarias and Puente, who insisted on what they called a verdict in accordance with the law and evidence. Under such pressure Espinosa was forced to adjudge the prisoner guilty. The penalty was death. Vasco Nuñez claimed the right of appeal to the Council of the Indies, which was denied him; to the Jeronimite Fathers, which was also denied. Espinosa became alarmed; he shrank from having on his soul the blood of this man, so gallant a cavalier, so eminent a discoverer; he never really desired more than to drive him into obscurity, and he begged the governor that the petition for appeal might be granted. "No," said Pedrarias, "if he has sinned, let him suffer."
With horror the colonists heard that Vasco Nuñez was condemned to be beheaded. Four of his friends were to suffer with him, Andrés de Valderrábano, Luis Botello, Fernando Muñoz, and Fernando de Argüello.
It was a dismal day at Acla, the chroniclers tell us, that on which five brave men were doomed to die, not for any crime, but as victims of a ferocious, savage-hearted old man. At an early hour the dull strokes of the carpenter's hammer were heard in the plaza where the scaffold rose. Troops of men gathered on the streets and talked of the coming execution, wondering if there would be an attempt at rescue. But Pedrarias had taken care of that. Were the heavenly powers a-dreaming that they should without interference permit this horrible crime? Alas! these very men had just as iniquitously slain their innocent thousands. Why should we pity them? And the same oft-invoked Omnipotence had permitted the ghastly work to be done in his name. Of what avail is it to wonder?
Heavily chained, and surrounded by a strong guard, the men were brought forth. First came Vasco Nuñez. His step and bearing were not those of a malefactor. Fire flashed from his eye and indignation flushed his cheek as he beheld the preparations for his ignominy. But this renowned and honored chieftain, even while marching to the scaffold, was less to be pitied than Pedrarias, who from behind a screened window was this moment feasting his eyes upon the victim. Before the prisoner walked the town-crier, who, as he approached the middle of the square, exclaimed in a loud voice, "Behold the usurper, a man recreant to his trust, and disloyal to his king. Let death be ever the doom of traitors." "'Tis false!" cried Vasco Nuñez. "Never have I been disloyal or untrue. To infamous treachery and wrong I yield my life, and not to justice."[XII-6]
THE EXECUTION.