CHAPTER XLIII.

In great grief and consternation of mind, the cavaliers carried the king to his apartments, and added their own sharp regrets to the tears of his children, when the surgeon pronounced his wounds mortal. Even the senor Cortes did not disdain to heave a sigh over the mangled form of his prisoner; for, in his death, he perceived his innocence, and remembered his benefactions; and, in addition, he felt, that, in the loss of Montezuma, he was deprived of the strongest bulwark against the animosity of his people.

"I have done this poor infidel king a great wrong," he said, with a remorse that might have been real, and yet, perhaps, was assumed, to effect a purpose on his followers; "for now, indeed, it is plain, he could not have been unfaithful to us, or he would not thus have perished. I call God to witness, that I had no hand in his death; and I aver to yourselves, noble cavaliers, that, when I have seemed to treat him with harshness and injustice, I have done so for the good of my companions, and the advantage of our king; for barbarians, being, in some sort, children, are to be governed by that severity which is wholesome to infancy. Nevertheless, I do not wholly despair of his life; for there are some score or two lusty fellows in the garrison, who have had their skulls cracked, and are none the worse for the affliction. I trust much in thy skill, senor _boticario_," he continued, addressing the surgeon; "and I promise thee, if thou restore Montezuma to his life and wits, I will, on mine own part, bestow upon thee this golden chain and crucifix, valued at ninety pesos, besides recommending thee, likewise, to the gratitude of my brother captains, and the favourable notice of his majesty, our king,--whom God preserve ever from the wrath and impiety of such traitorous subjects as have laid our Montezuma low! I leave him in thy charge. As for ourselves, valiant and true friends, it being now apparent to you, that we have none but ourselves to look to for safety, and even food, (the want of which latter would, doubtless, create many loud murmurs, were it not for the jeopardy of the former,) I must recommend you to betake you to your horses, and accompany me in a sally which it is needful now to make, both for the sake of reconnoitring the dikes, and gathering food.--What now, Botello!" he cried, observing the enchanter pressing through the throng; "what doest thou here?--Thou never madest me a prophecy of this great mishap!"

"I never cast the horoscope, nor called upon Kalidon-Sadabath, to discover the fate of any but a Christian man," said Botello, gravely; "for what matters it _what_ is the fate of a soul predoomed to flames, whether it part with violence, or in peace? I have sought out the destiny of his people, because I thought, some day, they should be baptised in the faith; but I never cast me a spell for the king."

"Wilt thou adventure thine art in his behalf, and tell me whether he shall now live or die?"

"It needs no conjuration to discover that," said the magician, pointing significantly to the broken temple. "The king will die, and that before we are released from our thraldom. But hearken, senor," he continued, solemnly, "I have sought out the fate that concerns us more nearly. Last night, while others buried their weariness in sleep, and their sorrows in the dreams of home, I watched in solitude, with prayers and fasting, working many secret and godly spells, and conversing with the spirits that came to the circle----"

The wounded monarch was forgotten, for an instant, by the cavaliers, in their eagerness to gather the revelations of the conjurer; for scepticism, like pride, was yielding before the increasing difficulties of their situation, and they grasped at hope and encouragement, coming from what quarter soever.

"And what have the spirits told thee, then?" demanded the general, meaningly.--"Doubtless, that, although there be a cloud about us now, there shall sunshine soon burst from it; and that, if we depart from this city, it will only be like the antique battering ram, pulled back from a wall, that it may presently return against it with tenfold violence."

"I have not questioned so far," replied Botello earnestly. "I know, that we must fly. What is to come after, is in the hands of God, and has not been revealed. Death lies in store for many, but safety for some. The celestial aspects are unfavourable, the conjunctions speak of suffering and blood;--dreams are dark, Kalidon is moody, and the fiends prattle in riddles. Day after day, the gloom shall be thicker, the frowns of fate more menacing, retreat more hopeless. Never before found I so many black days clustered over the earth! In all this period, there is but one shining hour; and if we seize not that, heaven receive us! for, beyond that, there is nothing but death.--On the fifth day from this, at midnight, a path will be opened to us on the causeway; for then, from the house Alpharg, doth the moon break the walls of prisons, and light fugitives to the desert. But after that, I say to thee again, very noble senor, all is hopelessness, all is wo!--starvation in the palace, and shrieking sacrifices on the temple!"

"On the fifth night, then," said Cortes, gravely, "if the fates so will it, we must take our departure,--provided we die not of famine, on the fourth. I would the devils that thou hast in command, had revealed thee some earlier hour, or some good means of coming at meat and drink. Get thee to thy horoscopes again, thy prayers and thy suffumigations; and see if thou hast not, by any mischance, overlooked some favourable moment for to-morrow, or the day after."

"It cannot be," said Botello; "my art has disclosed me no hope; but, without art, I can see that, to-morrow, the news of Montezuma's death, (for surely he is now dying,) will fill the causeways with mountaineers, and cover the lake with navigators, all coming to avenge it."

"I like thy magic better than thy mother wit," said Don Hernan, with a frown. "Give me what diabolical comfort thou canst to the soldiers; but croak no common-sense alarms into their ears."

"I have nothing to do with the magic that is diabolic," said the offended enchanter. "God is my stay, and the fiends I curse! If I have fears, I speak them not, save to those who may handle them for wise purposes. This, which I have said, will surely be the fate of to-morrow; and the besiegers will come, in double numbers, to the walls. What I have to speak of to-day, may be of as much moment, though revealed to me neither by star nor spirit.--The Mexicans are struck with horror, having slain their king; they hide them in their houses, or they run, mourning, to the temples; the soldiers are fresh, and the streets are empty. What hinders, that we do not gird on our packs, and, aiming for the near and short dike of Tacuba, which I so lately traversed, with the king's daughters, make good our retreat this moment?"

"By Santiago!" cried Cortes, quickly, "this is a soldier's thought, and honoured shalt thou be for conceiving it. What ho, Sandoval, my friend! get the troops in readiness. Prepare thy litters for the sick and wounded;--have all ready at a moment's warning. In the meanwhile, I will scour the western streets, and if all promise well, will return to conduct the retreat in person."

"We can carry with us," said Botello, "the wounded king, and his sons and daughters; and if it chance we should be followed, we will do as the tiger-hunter does with the cubs, when the dam pursues him,--fling a prisoner, ever and anon, on the path, to check the fury of our persecutors.--The king will be better than a purse of gold."

"Ay! now thou art my sage soldier again!" said the general. "Get thee to the men, and comfort them. Apothecary, look to the emperor; see that he have the best litter.--Forget not thy drugs and potions. And now, Christian cavaliers, and brothers, be of good heart.--Let us mount horse, and look at the dike of Tacuba."

The officers, greatly encouraged at the prospect of so speedy a release from their sufferings, followed the general from the apartment. Their elation was not shared by Don Amador de Leste. He rejoiced, for his kinsman's sake, that he was about to bear him from the din and privation of a besieged citadel; but he remembered that the Moorish boy must be left behind to perish; and it seemed to him, in addition, that certain mystic ties, the result of a day's adventure, which began to bind his thoughts to the pagan city, were, by the retreat, to be severed at once, and for ever.

But if his gloom was increased by such reflections, It was, in part, dispelled, when he reached the chamber of his kinsman. The delirium had vanished, and the knight sat on his couch, feeble, indeed, and greatly dejected, but quite in his senses. He turned an eye of affection on the youth, and with his trembling hand grasped Don Amador's.

"I have been as one that slept, dreaming my dreams," he said, "while thou hast been fighting the infidel. Strange visions have beset me; but thanks be to heaven! they have passed away; and, by-and-by, I will be able to mount and go forth with thee; and we will fight, side by side, as we have done before, among the Mussulmans."

"Think not of that, my father," said the novice, "for thou art very feeble. I would, indeed, thou hadst but the strength, this day, to sit on the saddle; for we are about to retreat from Tenochtitlan. Nevertheless, Baltasar shall have thy couch placed on a litter, which we can secure between two horses."

"Speakest thou of retreating?" exclaimed Don Gabriel.

"It is even so, my friend. The numbers, the fury, and the unabating exertions of the Mexicans, are greater than we looked for. We have lost many men, are reduced to great extremities for food, altogether dispirited, and now left so helpless, by the disaster of the king, that we have no hope but in flight."

"Is the king hurt?--and by a Spaniard?"

"Wounded by the stones and arrows of his own people, and now dying. And, it is thought, we can depart to best advantage, while the Mexicans are repenting the impiety that slew him."

"And we must retreat?"

"If we can;--a matter which we, who are mounted, are about to determine, by riding to the nearest causeway. This, dear father, will give Marco and Baltasar time to prepare thee. I will leave Lazaro and the secretary to assist them. Presently, we will return; and when we march, be it unopposed, or yet through files of the enemy, I swear to thee I will ride ever at thy side."

"And my boy?--my loving little page, Jacinto?" exclaimed the knight, anxiously: "Hath he returned to us? I have a recollection, that he was stolen away. 'Twill be a new sin to me, if he come to harm through my neglect."

"Let us think no more of Jacinto," said the novice with a sigh. "If he be living, he is now in the hands of Abdalla, his father, who has deserted from us, and is supposed to be harboured by the Mexicans. God is over all--we can do him no good--God will protect him!"

Don Gabriel eyed his kinsman sorrowfully, saying,

"Evil follows in my path, and overtakes those who follow after me. Every day open I mine eyes upon a new grief. I loved this child very well; and, for my punishment, he is taken from me. I love thee, also, Amador, whom I may call my son; for faithful and unwearying art thou; and, belike, the last blow will fall, when _thou_ art snatched away. Guard well thy life, for it is the last pillar of my own!"

A few moments of affection, a few words of condolence, were bestowed upon Don Gabriel; and then the novice left him, to accompany the cavaliers to the causeway.

As he was stepping from the palace door into the court-yard, his arm was caught by the magician, who, looking into his face with exceeding great solemnity, said,--

"Ride not thou with the cavaliers to-day, noble gentleman. Thou art unlucky."

A faint smile lit the countenance of the youth. It was soon followed by a sigh.

"This is, indeed, a truth, which no magic could make more manifest than has the history of much of my life. I am unfortunate; yet not in affairs of war;--being now, as you see, almost the only man in this garrison, who is not, in part, disabled by severe wounds. Yet why should I not ride with my friends?"

"Because thou wilt bring them trouble, and thyself misery.--I cannot say, senor," added Botello, with grave earnestness, "that thou didst absolutely save my life, when thou broughtest me succour in the street; seeing that this is under the influence of a destiny, well known to me, which man cannot alter.--It was not possible those savages could slay me. Nevertheless, my gratitude is as strong, for thy good will was as great. I promised to read thee thy fortune; but in the troubles which beset me, I could not perfect thy horoscope. All I have learned is, that a heavy storm hangs over thee; and that, if thou art not discreet, thy last hour is nigh, and will be miserable. The very night of thy good and noble service, I dreamed that we were surrounded by all the assembled Mexicans, making with them a contract of peace; to which they were about swearing, when they laid their eyes upon thee, and straightway were incensed, at the sight, as at the call of a trumpet, to attack us. Thou knowest, that it was thy rash attack on the accursed prophetess, which brought the knaves upon us! Thrice was this vision repeated to me: twice has it been confirmed--once at the temple, and, but a moment since, on the roof. Hadst _thou_ not stood before the king with thy shield, the rage of the Mexicans would not have destroyed him! Therefore, go not out, now; for he that brings mischief, twice, to his friends, will, the third time, be involved in their ruin!"

The neophyte stared at Botello, who pronounced these fantastic adjurations with the most solemn emphasis. His heart was heavy, or their folly would have amused him.

"Be not alarmed, Botello," he said, good-humouredly,--"I will be very discreet. My conscience absolves me of all agency in the king's hurts; and if I did, indeed, draw on the attack at the pyramid, as I am by no means certain, I only put match to the cannon, which, otherwise, might have been aimed at us more fatally. I promise thee to be rash no more,--no, not even though I should again behold the marvellous prophetess, who, as Montezuma told us, has risen from his pagan hell."

The enchanter would have remonstrated further; but, at this moment, the trumpet gave signal that the cavaliers were departing, and Don Amador stayed neither to argue nor console. He commanded the secretary, whom he found among the throng, to return to Don Gabriel; and Lorenzo reluctantly obeyed. Lazaro was already with the knight.

Thus, without personal attendants, Don Amador mounted, this day, among the cavaliers, prepared to disprove the enchanter's predictions, or to consummate his destiny.