Gold and glory; or, Wild ways of other days, a tale of early American discoveryStebbing, Grace
History
Gold and glory; or, Wild ways of other days, a tale of early American discovery
Stebbing, Grace
Mexico -- History -- Conquest, 1519-1540 -- Fiction
Hastening gaily forward, they surrounded the warriors with their dainty
offerings. They hung a chaplet of roses about the general's helmet, and
wreaths about his charger's neck. As for the yellow-haired Alvarado
and the laughing Cabrera, they were very soon converted into tolerable
imitations of the English Maypole, or the May-day Jack-in-the-green,
their fine Spanish eyes beaming out of the midst of their bright
coverings, upon their decorators, with a smiling good-humour that gave
little warning of future headlong and annihilating cruelty.
At length the Europeans reached the city, and silence fell upon them
as they slowly entered the narrow, crowded streets, and paced along to
a temple assigned them by the Cacique for their quarters, during their
stay in his dominion.
Not one of the band would have now retreated from the enterprise on
hand had he been able. At the same time, for a company of about six or
seven hundred men to be cooped up within a close-built town, of whose
ins and outs they knew nothing, and in this position to be surrounded
by thirty thousand people who might prove to be crafty enemies, was a
state of affairs to make even the most reckless feel just a little bit
like wishing that they had at least two pairs of eyes, and one of them
situated in the back of their heads.
No one saw fit to demur when Cortes announced, on arriving at the
temple, that he intended to double the usual number of the sentinels
to keep watch at night, and that the whole force was to maintain a
constant state of the utmost vigilance, and readiness for any surprise.
"Moreover," concluded the General, with resolute determination of
manner, "moreover, comrades, it is my absolute command, on pain of
death, that none leave the precincts of our present quarters without
my leave, on any pretext whatsoever. I will myself shoot the first who
does."
"Umph," muttered Cabrera with a little raising of his eyebrows. "You
speak very positively, my Captain. How would it be with your word if
you did not get the chance!"
"Just so," returned Alvarado in the same tone. "My fears of being
caught hold of by those bloodthirsty idol-priests would do more to keep
me from straying, than any threats of being shot if I were lucky enough
to get back to camp again. Meantime, here comes a party of well-laden
cooks. Whatever other fate they intend for us, it is apparently not
starvation."
As those two thus talked together, Montoro de Diego was no little
startled by one of the women, with a flower-decked basket of maize
cakes in her hands, and cheeks streaming with tears, separating herself
with some quiet caution from her fellows, and coming up to him with
her gift, and with eyes that besought, with all the power of mute
eloquence, for a hearing for some tale of sorrow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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