Part 11

It took a long time to satisfy the chief that this man who seemed so extraordinary was really what he seemed. He came at last to trust him wholly, even making him the steward of his household and leaving him to protect his women in his absence. Finding the chief thus disposed, Aguilar ventured a suggestion. Guerrera had won great favor with his master by his valor in war. Aguilar was shrewd enough to know that though it was very pleasant to have his master's confidence, if anything happened to Taxmar he might be all the worse off. The only sure way to win the respect of these barbarians was by efficiency as a soldier. Taxmar upon request gave his steward the military outfit of the Mayas--bow and arrows, wicker-work shield, and war-club, with a dagger of obsidian, a volcanic stone very hard and capable of being made very keen of edge, but brittle. Jerónimo when a boy had been an expert archer, and his old skill soon returned. He also remembered warlike devices and stratagems he had seen and heard of. Old soldiers chatting with his father in the purple twilight had often fought their battles over again, and nearly every form of military tactics then known to civilized armies had been used in the war in Granada. Naturally the young friar had heard more or less discussion of military campaigns in Darien. His suggestions were so much to the point that Taxmar had an increased respect for the gods of that unknown land of his. If they could do so much for this slave, without even demanding any offerings, they must be very different from the gods of the Mayas.

In reply to Taxmar's questions, Aguilar, who now spoke the language quite well, endeavored to explain the nature of his religion. Not many of the Spaniards who expected to convert the Indians went so far as this. If they could by any means whatever make their subjects call themselves Christians and observe the customs of the Church, it was all they attempted. Taxmar was not the sort of person to be converted in that informal way. He demanded reasons. If Aguilar advised him against having unhappy people murdered to bribe the gods for their help in the coming campaign, he wished to know what the objection was, and what the white chiefs did in such a case. The idea of sacrificing to one's god, not the lives of men, but one's own will and selfish desires, was entirely new to him.

While Jerónimo was still wrestling with the problem of making the Christian faith clear to one single Indian out of the multitudes of the heathen, a neighboring cacique appeared on the scene,--jealous, angry and suspicious. He had heard, he said, that Taxmar sought the aid of a stranger, who worshiped strange gods, in a campaign directed against his neighbors. He wished to know if Taxmar considered this right. In his own opinion this stranger ought to be sacrificed to the gods of the Mayas after the usual custom, or the gods would be angry,--and then no one knew what would happen.

Aguilar thought it possible that Taxmar might reply that the conduct of an army was no one's business but the chief's. That would be in line with the cacique's character as he knew it. He did not expect that any chief in that ancient land would dare to defy its gods openly.

Taxmar did not meet the challenge at once. His deep set opaque black eyes and mastiff-like mouth looked as immovable as the carving on the basalt stool upon which he sat. The cacique thought he was impressed, and concluded triumphantly,

"Who can resist the gods? Let the altar drink the blood of the stranger; it is sweet to them and they will sleep, and not wake."

"I shall do nothing of the kind," said Taxmar, the clicking, bubbling Maya talk dropping like water on hot stones. "When a man serves me well, I do not reward him with death. My slave's wisdom is greater than the craft of Coyotl, and if his gods help me it is because they know enough to do right."

The other chief went home in rage and disappointment and offended dignity.

No one, who has not tried it, can imagine the sensation of living in a hostile land, removed from all that is familiar. Until his captivity began Aguilar had never been obliged to act for himself. He had always been under the authority of a superior. He had questioned and wondered, seen the injustice of this thing and that, but only in his own mind. When everything in his past life had been swept away at one stroke, his faith alone was left him in the wrecked and distorted world. He had never dreamed that Taxmar was learning to respect that faith.

The neighboring cacique now joined Taxmar's enemies with all his army, and the councilors took alarm and repeated the suggestion that Aguilar should be sacrificed to make sure of the help of the gods. Taxmar again spoke plainly.

"Our gods," he said, "have helped us when we were strong and powerful and sacrificed many captives in their honor. This man's gods help him when he is a slave, alone, far from his people, with nothing to offer in sacrifice. We will see now what they will do for my army."

In the battle which followed, the cacique adopted a plan which Aguilar suggested. That loyal follower was placed in command of a force hidden in the woods near the route by which the enemy would arrive. The hostile forces marched past it, and charged upon the front of Taxmar's army. It gave way, and they rushed in with triumphant yells. When they were well past, Aguilar's division came out of the bushes and took them in the rear. At the same instant Taxmar and his warriors faced about and sprang at them like a host of panthers. There was a great slaughter, many prisoners were taken, among them the cacique himself and many men of importance; and Taxmar made a little speech to them upon the wisdom of the white man's gods.

In the years that passed the captive's hope of escape faded. Once he had thought he might slip away and reach the coast, but he was too carefully watched. Even if he could get to the sea from so far inland, without the help of the natives, he could not reach any Spanish colony without a boat. There were rumors of strange ships filled with bearded men, whose weapons were the thunder and the lightning. Old people wagged their heads and recalled a prophecy of the priest Chilam Cambal many years ago, that a white people, bearded, would come from the east, to overturn the images of the gods, and conquer the land.

Hernando de Córdova's squadron came and went; Grijalva's came and went; Aguilar heard of them but never saw them. At last, seven long years after he came to Jamacana, three coast Indians from the island of Cozumel came timidly to the cacique with gifts and a letter. The gifts were for Taxmar, to buy his Christian slaves, if he had any, and the letter was for them.

Hernando Cortes, coming from Cuba with a squadron to discover and conquer the land ruled by the Lord of the Golden House, had stopped at Cozumel and there heard of white men held as captives somewhere inland. He had persuaded the Indians to send messengers for them, saying that if the captives were sent to the sea-coast, at the cape of Cotoche, he would leave two caravels there eight days, to wait for them.

While Aguilar read this letter the Indians were telling of the water-houses of the strangers, their sharp weapons, their command of thunder and lightning, and the wonderful presents they gave in exchange for what they wanted. Aguilar's account of the squadron was even more complete. He described the dress of the Spaniards, their weapons and their manner of life without having seen them at all, and the Indians, when asked, said it was so.

Taxmar's acute mind was adjusting itself to this event, which was not altogether unexpected. He had heard more than Aguilar had about the previous visits of the Spaniards to that coast. He asked Aguilar if he thought that the strange warriors would accept him, their countryman, as ambassador, and deal mildly with Taxmar and his people, if they let him go. Aguilar answered that he thought they would.

Now freedom was within his grasp, and only one thing delayed him. He could not leave his comrade Guerrero behind. The sailor had married the daughter of a chief and become a great man in his adopted country. Aguilar sent Indian messengers with the letter and a verbal message, and waited.

Guerrero had never known much about reading, and he had forgotten nearly all he knew. He understood, however, that he could now return to Spain. Before his eyes rose a picture of the lofty austere sierras, the sunny vineyards, the wine, so unlike pulque, the bread, so unlike flat cakes of maize, the maidens of Barcelona and Malaga, so very different from tattooed Indian girls. And then he surveyed his own brawny arms and legs, and felt of his own grotesquely ornamented countenance.

To please the taste of his adopted people he had let himself be decorated as they were, for life,--with tattooed pictures, with nose-ring, with ear-rings of gold set with rudely cut gems and heavy enough to drag down the lobe of the ear. He would cut a figure in the streets of Seville. The little boys would run after him as if he were a show. He grinned, sighed mightily, and sent word to Aguilar that he thought it wiser to stay where he was. Aguilar set out for the coast with the Cozumel Indians, but this delay had consumed all of the eight days appointed, and when they reached Point Cotoche the caravels had gone.

But a broken canoe and a stave from a water-barrel lay on the beach, and with the help of the messengers Aguilar patched up the canoe, and with the board for a paddle, made the canoe serve his need. Following the coast they came to the narrowest part of the channel between the mainland and Cozumel, and in spite of a very strong current got across to the island. No sooner had they landed when some Spaniards rushed out of the bushes, with drawn swords. The Indians were about to fly in terror, but Aguilar called to them in their own language to have no fear. Then he spoke to the Spaniards in broken Castilian, saying that he was a Christian, fell on his knees and thanked God that he had lived to hear his own language again.

The Spaniards looked at this strange figure in absolute bewilderment. He was to all appearance an Indian. His long hair was braided and wound about his head, he had a bow in his hand, a quiver of arrows on his back, a bag of woven grass-work hung about his neck by a long cord. The pattern of the weaving was a series of interwoven crosses. Cortes, giving up hope of rescuing any Christian captives, had left the island, but one of his ships had sprung a leak and he had put back. When he saw an Indian canoe coming he had sent scouts to see what it might be. They now led Jerónimo Aguilar and his Indian companions into the presence of the captain-general and his staff. Aguilar saluted Cortes in the Indian fashion, by carrying his hand from the ground to his forehead as he knelt crouching before him. But Cortes, when he understood who this man was, raised him to his feet, embraced him and flung about his shoulders his own cloak. Aguilar became his interpreter, and thus was the prophecy fulfilled concerning the gods of Taxmar.

[Illustration: "CORTES FLUNG ABOUT HIS SHOULDERS HIS OWN CLOAK."--_Page_ 146]

NOTE

The story of Jerónimo Aguilar follows the actual facts very closely. The account of his adventures will be found in Irving's "Life of Columbus" and other works dealing with the history of the Spanish conquests.

A LEGEND OF MALINCHE

O sorcerer Time, turn backward to the shore Where it is always morning, and the birds Are troubadours of all the hidden lore Deeper than any words!

There lived a maiden once,--O long ago, Ere men were grown too wise to understand The ancient language that they used to know In Quezalcoatl's land.

Though her own mother sold her for a slave, Her own bright beauty as her only dower, Into her slender hands the conqueror gave A more than queenly power.

Between her people and the enemy-- The fierce proud Spaniard on his conquest bent-- Interpreter and interceder, she In safety came and went.

And still among the wild shy forest folk The birds are singing of her, and her name Lives in that language that her people spoke Before the Spaniard came.

She is not dead, the daughter of the Sun,-- By love and loyalty divinely stirred, She lives forever--so the legends run,-- Returning as a bird.

Who but a white bird in her seaward flight Saw, borne upon the shoulders of the sea, Three tiny caravels--how small and light To hold a world in fee!

Who but the quezal, when the Spaniards came And plundered all the white imperial town, Saw in a storm of red rapacious flame The Aztec throne go down!

And when the very rivers talked of gold, The humming-bird upon her lichened nest Strange tales of wild adventure never told Hid in her tiny breast.

The mountain eagle, circling with the stars, Watched the great Admiral swiftly come and go In his light ship that set at naught the bars Wrought by a giant foe.

Dull are our years and hard to understand, We dream no more of mighty days to be, And we have lost through delving in the land The wisdom of the sea.

Yet where beyond the sea the sunset burns, And the trees talk of kings dead long ago, Malinche sings among the giant ferns-- Ask of the birds--they know!

XI

THE THUNDER BIRDS

"Glory is all very well," said Juan de Saavedra to Pedro de Alvarado as the squadron left the island of Cozumel, "but my familiar spirit tells me that there is gold somewhere in this barbaric land or Cortes would not be with us."

Alvarado's peculiarly sunny smile shone out. He was a ruddy golden-haired man, a type unusual in Spaniards, and the natives showed a tendency to revere him as the sun-god. Life had treated him very well, and he had an abounding good-nature.

"It will be the better," he said comfortably, "if we get both gold and glory. I confess I have had my doubts of the gold, for after all, these Indians may have more sense than they appear to have."

"People often do, but in what way, especially?"

"_Amigo_, put yourself in the place of one of these caciques, with white men bedeviling you for a treasure which you never even troubled yourself to pick up when it lay about loose. What can be more easy than to tell them that there is plenty of it somewhere else--in the land of your enemies? That is Pizarro's theory, at any rate."

Saavedra laughed. "Pizarro is wise in his way, but as I have said, Cortes is our commander."

"What has that to do with it?"

"If you had been at Salamanca in his University days you wouldn't ask. He never got caught in a scrape, and he always got what he was after."

"And kept it?"

"Is that a little more of Pizarro's wisdom? No; he always shared the spoils as even-handedly as you please. But if any of us lost our heads and got into a pickle he never was concerned in it--or about it."

"He will lose his, if Velasquez catches him. Remember Balboa."

"Now there is an example of the chances he will take. Cortes first convinces the Governor that nobody else is fit to trust with this undertaking. Córdova failed; Grijalva failed; Cortes will succeed or leave his bones on the field of honor. No sooner are we fairly out of harbor than Velasquez tries to whistle us back. He might as well blow his trumpets to the sea-gulls. All Cortes wanted was a start. You will see--either the Governor will die or be recalled while we are gone, or we shall come back so covered with gold and renown that he will not dare do anything when we are again within his reach. Somebody's head may be lost in this affair, but it will not be that of Hernan' Cortes."

The man of whom they were speaking just then approached, summoning Alvarado to him. Saavedra leaned on the rail musing.

"Sometimes," he said to himself, "one hastens a catastrophe by warning people of it, but then, that may be because it could not have been prevented. Cortes is inclined to make that simple fellow his aide because they are so unlike, and so, I suspect, are others. At any rate I have done my best to make him see whose leadership is safest."

The fleet was a rather imposing one for those waters. There were eleven ships altogether, the flagship and three others being over seventy tons' weight, the rest caravels and open brigantines. These were manned by one hundred and ten sailors, and carried five hundred and fifty-three soldiers, of whom thirty-two were crossbowmen and thirteen arquebusiers. There were also about two hundred Indians. Sixteen horses accompanied the expedition, and it had ten heavy cannon, four light field-guns, called falconets, and a good supply of ammunition. The horses cost almost more than the ships that carried them, for they had been brought from Spain; but their value in such an undertaking was great.

Hernando Cortes had come out to Cuba when he was nineteen, and that was fifteen years ago. Much had been reported concerning an emperor in a country to the west, who ruled over a vast territory inhabited by copper-colored people rich in gold, who worshiped idols. Cortes had observed that Indian tribes, like schoolboys, were apt to divide into little cliques and quarreling factions. If the subject tribes did not like the Emperor, and were jealous of him and of each other, a foreign conqueror had one tool ready to his hand, and it was a tool that Cortes had used many times before.

The people of this coast, however, were not at all like the gentle and childlike natives Colón had found. From the rescued captive Aguilar, the commander learned much of their nature and customs. On his first attempt to land, his troops encountered troops of warriors in brilliant feathered head-bands and body armor of quilted white cotton. They used as weapons the lance, bow and arrows, club, and a curious staff about three and a half feet long set with crosswise knife-blades of obsidian. Against poisoned arrows, such as the invaders had more than once met, neither arquebus nor cannon was of much use, and body armor was no great protection, since a scratch on hand or leg would kill a man in a few hours. After some skirmishing and more diplomacy, at various points along the coast, Cortes landed his force on the island which Grijalva had named San Juan de Ulloa, from a mistaken notion that Oloa, the native salutation, was the name of the place. The natives had watched the "water-houses," as they called them, sailing over the serene blue waters, and this tribe, being peaceable folk, sent a pirogue over to the island with gifts. There were not only fruits and flowers, but little golden ornaments, and the Spanish commander sent some trinkets in return. In endeavoring to talk with them Cortes became aware of an unusual piece of luck. Aguilar did not understand the language of these folk. But at Tabasco, where Cortes had had a fight with the native army, some slaves had been presented to him as a peace-offering. Among them was a beautiful young girl, daughter of a Mexican chief, who after her father's death had been sold as a slave by her own mother, who wished to get her inheritance. During her captivity she had learned the dialect Aguilar spoke, and the two interpreters between them succeeded in translating Cortes's Castilian into the Aztec of Mexico from the first. The young girl was later baptized Marina. There being no "r" in the Aztec language the people called her Malintzin or Malinche,--Lady Marina, the ending "tzin" being a title of respect. She learned Castilian with wonderful quickness, and was of great service not only to Cortes but to her own people, since she could explain whatever he did not understand.

Cortes learned that the name of the ruler of the country was Moteczuma. His capital was on the plateau about seventy miles in the interior. This coast province, which he had lately conquered, was ruled by one of his Aztec governors. Gold was abundant. Moteczuma had great store of it. Cortes decided to pitch his camp where afterward stood the capital of New Spain.

The friendly Indians brought stakes and mats and helped to build huts, native fashion. From all the country round the people flocked to see the strange white men, bringing fruit, flowers, game, Indian corn, vegetables and native ornaments of all sorts. Some of these they gave away and some they bartered. Every soldier and mariner turned trader; the place looked like a great fair.

On Easter Day the Aztec governor arrived upon a visit of ceremony. Cortes received him in his own tent, with all courtesy, in the presence of his officers, all in full uniform. Mass was said, and the Aztec chief and his attendants listened with grave politeness. Then the guests were invited to a dinner at which various Spanish dishes, wines and sweetmeats were served as formally as at court. After this the interpreters were summoned for the real business of the day.

The Aztec nobleman wished to know whence and why the strangers had come to this country. Cortes answered that he was the subject of a monarch beyond seas, as powerful as Moteczuma, who had heard of the Aztec Emperor and sent his compliments and some gifts. The governor gracefully expressed his willingness to convey both to his royal master. Cortes courteously declined, saying that he must himself deliver them. At this the governor seemed surprised and displeased; evidently this was not in his plan. "You have been here only two days," he said, "and already demand an audience with the Emperor?" Then he expressed his astonishment at learning that there was any other monarch as great as Moteczuma, and sent his attendants to bring a few gifts which he himself had chosen for the white chief.