CHAPTER V
ALVARADO FINDS THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD
There was a bluster of trumpets and drums, and out of the main gate of the palace in which he was lodged, under the eyes of a concourse of spectators too vast to be nearly estimated, Cortes marched with the greater part of his Christians. The column was spirited, even brilliant. Good steeds had improved with rest; while good fare, not to speak of the luxury of royal baths, had reconstituted both footmen and riders. At the head, as guides, walked four commissioners of the king,—stately men, gorgeous in escaupiles and plumed helms.
The Spaniards were full of glee, vented broad exaggerations, and manifested the abandon I have seen in sailors ashore the first time after a long voyage.
“Be done, good horse!” said Sandoval to Motilla, whose blood warmed under the outcry of trumpet and clarion. “Be done!”
Montejo laughed. “Chide her not! She feels the silver on her heels as a fine lady the ribbons on her head.”
“No,” said Alvarado, laying his lance half in rest, “Motilla is a Christian, and the scent of the pagan is in her nostrils.”
“Up with thy lance, Señor Capitan! The guides, if they were to look back, would leave us without so much as good day.”
“Cierto, thou ’rt right! But how pleasant it would be to impale two of them at once!”
“Such thy speculation? I cannot believe thee. I have been thy comrade too long,” said Leon, gravely.