Calavar; or, The Knight of The Conquest, A Romance of MexicoBird, Robert Montgomery
History
Calavar; or, The Knight of The Conquest, A Romance of Mexico
Bird, Robert Montgomery
Mexico -- History -- Conquest, 1519-1540 -- Fiction
Amador dropped behind a little: Lazaro and Baltasar required no
instructions to keep them in the neighbourhood of their master; and the
secretary, though complaining that he rode in pain, professed himself
able to keep up with the party. From his henchmen, as he rode, Don
Amador obtained but little to unravel the mystery of his escape. The two
attendants had been quartered alone in a deserted building, in the
garden of which they were instructed to provide for their steeds. They
had been roused by a cavalier, who commanded them to follow him to their
master, in token of whose authority he showed them the well-known blade
of the novice. He had conducted them to the grove, and left them, with
charges to remain, as they had done, in tranquillity, until the
appearance of Don Amador.
At the dawn of day, the neophyte became convinced he had ridden more
than the distance which, he supposed, separated the camps of the rival
generals; and wondering at the absence of all signs of life in the
forest through which he was passing, he again betook himself to Botello.
The magician had halted on the brow of an eminence, where, though the
dense wood, as well as the obscurity of the hour, greatly contracted the
sphere of vision, he looked back as if striving to detect the figures of
pursuers among the thick shadows. The shouts of men were heard far
behind; but this circumstance, instead of filling the mind of Botello
with alarm, gave, on the contrary, to his countenance an expression of
great satisfaction.
"We are pursued, enchanter; and yet, I perceive neither tent nor
out-post of thy friends, to give us refuge from our enemies," said Don
Amador.
"Let them come," cried Botello, tranquilly: "It is worse for the stag,
when the pack is scattered; but better for the kite, when the pheasants
have broke the covey."
"There may be much wisdom in thy tropes, as well as in thine actions,"
said the novice; "yet am I slow to discover it in either. Whether we are
to be considered the stag or the hounds, the hawk or the pheasants,
entirely passes my comprehension; but sure am I that, in either case,
our safety may be considered quite as metaphorical as thy speech. I
understood from thee, last night, and I remember it very well, because
it was that communication which exasperated me into a quarrel with the
governor,--that the river whereon Cortes was encamped, was but a league
from Zempoala; yet am I persuaded we have galloped twice that distance."
"He travels no straight road who creeps through the country of a
foeman," said Botello, resuming his journey, though at a more moderate
gait than before; "and Don Amador should be content, if he can avoid the
many scouts and vedettes that infest the path, by riding thrice the two
leagues he has compassed already."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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