"Their desertion was neither unforeseen nor unopposed," he answered. "It is my grief to say, that they forgot the obligations both of discipline and Christianity, and desperately fired upon Gaspar and myself; whereby they killed our remaining horse, and wounded myself in the side."
"And where then were thy knavish Indians, that thou didst not slay the false traitors on the spot?" cried Cortes, with an indignation, which, this time, had the right direction.
The answer to this added but another item of mischance to the young man's story. The arts of the Manchegos had spread disaffection among his Indian followers, many of whom had deserted with them. Following after the mutineers, he was, shortly after, abandoned by the rest; and then his little party, consisting only of Gaspar and the Ottomi, was attacked, by hostile tribes, driven back upon the path, and finally forced to take refuge in the dominions of that native monarch, whose reputed grandeur and wealth had so long since excited the curiosity of Don Hernan.
The relation of Lerma, though of such thrilling interest that it absorbed the attention of all present, and even so wrought upon the mind of Cortes, that he gradually discharged the severity of his countenance, and even at last ceased altogether to interrupt it with sarcasm or commentary of any kind, has too little, or at least too indirect a connexion with the present history, to require it to be given in the exile's words, or at any length. With the main facts,—his long captivity and final escape,—the reader is already acquainted; and it is not perhaps necessary to add more than that the kingdom of which so much has been said, was that of Mechoacan, and that its capital Tzintzontzan, (the Place of Hummingbirds,) corrupted by the Mexicans into Huitzitzila, lies yet, though dwindled into the meanest of villages, upon the beautiful lake Pascuaro. Juan knew nothing of the fate of the Manchegos. By a comparison of dates, it was discovered that the sudden outbreaking of hostilities, which had driven him into this remote land, had followed almost immediately upon the tumults In Mexico, which had resulted in the death of Montezuma and the expulsion of the Spaniards; and it was not doubted, that the mutineers had met a miserable and speedy death. With the account of lands of unexampled beauty and fertility, of rivers of gold and hills of silver, we have nothing to do, except to remark that it determined the fate of Mechoacan as certainly as if the order had been uttered for its immediate subjugation. The whole account might have been omitted, except that it was necessary, as the means of explaining some of the feelings with which the young Lerma was regarded by the general and his chief followers.
There is no eloquence so persuasive as that of distress, uttered without complaint; and no story of hardship and peril fails of exciting sympathy, when recounted with truth and modesty. Accordingly, the narrative of the exile produced among the cavaliers a powerful impression in his favour, which was heightened into admiration by the consciousness that nothing but the greatest constancy of purpose, and mental resources beyond those of ordinary men, could have conducted him through his long and perilous enterprise. Many of those, who seemed to remember with most interest the breach between the general and one who had been formerly considered almost his adopted son, kept their eyes curiously bent on Cortes; and they did not doubt, from the changes of his countenance, that his better feelings were deeply engaged, and would perhaps restore the young man to the confidence and affection which all knew he had lost. This belief became universal, when, at the close of the story, the Captain-General arose, and addressing the throng, said,
"Cavaliers and friends, we will free all present from the tedium of this audience, saving only the gentlemen of the Secret Counsel, and these our returned friends.—Nay, by my faith, Gaspar of the Red Beard, thou mayst depart likewise, to speak thy adventures to thine old friends, which thou art doubtless itching to do; or, if thou likest that better, get thee to Antonio de Quinones, our Master of the Armory, and choose thyself a good sword, buckler and breastplate. Thou art a true soldier, and, by and by, I have somewhat to say to thee.—The knave has the gait of an infidel!"
At this signal for breaking up the audience, which was pronounced with the grave and easy authoritativeness of one long accustomed to command, the individuals present, Christian and heathen, princes, chieftains, and cavaliers, took their departure, leaving behind them Sandoval, Alvarado, and a few other officers of high standing.
As Juan stood, embarrassed between hope and doubt, the señor Guzman descended from the platform, and, passing him, said with a low voice and a derisive smile,
"You mount, señor, and Bobadil neighs for you! It is better—the war is equal."
So saying, he passed on.