We kissed again and then, as she was in the very act of pushing the stool from beneath us, the door opened and shut, and a veiled woman stood before us, bearing a torch in one hand and a bundle in the other.
She looked, and seeing us and our dreadful purpose, ran to us.
"What do you?" she cried, and I knew the voice for that of Marina. "Are you then mad, Teule?"
"Who is this who knows you so well, husband, and will not even suffer that we die in peace?" asked Otomie.
"I am Marina," answered the veiled woman, "and I come to save you if I can."
CHAPTER x.x.x
THE ESCAPE
Now Otomie put the rope off her neck, and descending from the stool, stood before Marina.
"You are Marina," she said coldly and proudly, "and you come to save us, you who have brought ruin on the land that bore you, and have given thousands of her children to death, and shame, and torment. Now, if I had my way, I would have none of your salvation, nay, I would rather save myself as I was about to do."
Thus Otomie spoke, and never had she looked more royal than in this moment, when she risked her last chance of life that she might pour out her scorn upon one whom she deemed a traitress, no, one who was a traitress, for had it not been for Marina"s wit and aid, Cortes would never have conquered Anahuac. I trembled as I heard her angry words, for, all I suffered notwithstanding, life still seemed sweet to me, who, ten seconds ago, had stood upon the verge of death. Surely Marina would depart and leave us to our doom. But it was not so. Indeed, she shrank and trembled before Otomie"s contempt. They were a strange contrast in their different loveliness as they stood face to face in the torture den, and it was strange also to see the spirit of the lady of royal blood, threatened as she was with a shameful death, or still more shameful life, triumph over the Indian girl whom to-day fortune had set as far above her as the stars.
"Say, royal lady," asked Marina in her gentle voice, "for what cause did you, if tales are true, lie by the side of yonder white man upon the stone of sacrifice?"
"Because I love him, Marina."
"And for this same cause have I, Marina, laid my honour upon a different altar, for this same cause I have striven against the children of my people, because I love another such as he. It is for love of Cortes that I have aided Cortes, therefore despise me not, but let your love plead for mine, seeing that, to us women, love is all. I have sinned, I know, but doubtless in its season my sin shall find a fitting punishment."
"It had need be sharp," answered Otomie. "My love has harmed none, see before you but one grain of the countless harvest of your own. In yonder chair Guatemoc your king was this day tortured by your master Cortes, who swore to treat him with all honour. By his side sat Teule, my husband and your friend; him Cortes gave over to has private enemy, de Garcia, whom you name Sarceda. See how he has left him. Nay, do not shudder, gentle lady; look now at his wounds! Consider to what a pa.s.s we are driven when you find us about to die thus like dogs, he, my husband, that he may not live to see me handled as he has been, and I with him, because a princess of the Otomie and of Montezuma"s blood cannot submit to such a shame while death has one door through which to creep. It is but a single grain of your harvest, outcast and traitress, the harvest of misery and death that is stored yonder in the ruins of Tenoct.i.tlan.
Had I my will, I tell you that I had sooner die a score of times than take help from a hand so stained with the blood of my people and of yours--I--"
"Oh! cease, lady, cease," groaned Marina, covering her eyes with her hand, as though the sight of Otomie were dreadful to her. "What is done is done; do not add to my remorse. What did you say, that you, the lady Otomie, were brought here to be tortured?"
"Even so, and before my husband"s eyes. Why should Montezuma"s daughter and the princess of the Otomie escape the fate of the emperor of the Aztecs? If her womanhood does not protect her, has she anything to hope of her lost rank?"
"Cortes knows nothing of this, I swear it," said Marina. "To the rest he has been driven by the clamour of the soldiers, who taunt him with stealing treasure that he has never found. But of this last wickedness he is innocent."
"Then let him ask his tool Sarceda of it."
"As for Sarceda, I promise you, princess, that if I can I will avenge this threat upon him. But time is short, I am come here with the knowledge of Cortes, to see if I can win the secret of the treasure from Teule, your husband, and for my friendship"s sake I am about to betray my trust and help him and you to fly. Do you refuse my aid?"
Otomie said nothing, but I spoke for the first time.
"Nay, Marina, I have no love for this thief"s fate if I can escape it, but how is it to be done?"
"The chance is poor enough, Teule, but I bethought me that once out of this prison you might slip away disguised. Few will be stirring at dawn, and of them the most will not be keen to notice men or things. See, I have brought you the dress of a Spanish soldier; your skin is dark, and in the half light you might pa.s.s as one; and for the princess your wife, I have brought another dress, indeed I am ashamed to offer it, but it is the only one that will not be noted at this hour; also, Teule, I bring you a sword, that which was taken from you, though I think that once it had another owner."
Now while she spoke Marina undid her bundle, and there in it were the dresses and the sword, the same that I had taken from the Spaniard Diaz in the ma.s.sacre of the noche triste. First she drew out the woman"s robe and handed it to Otomie, and I saw that it was such a robe as among the Indians is worn by the women who follow camps, a robe with red and yellow in it. Otomie saw it also and drew back.
"Surely, girl, you have brought a garment of your own in error," she said quietly, but in such a fashion as showed more of the savage heart that is native to her race than she often suffered to be seen; "at the least I cannot wear such robes."
"It seems that I must bear too much," answered Marina, growing wroth at last, and striving to keep back the tears that started to her eyes. "I will away and leave you;" and she began to roll up her bundle.
"Forgive her, Marina," I said hastily, for the desire to escape grew on me every minute; "sorrow has set an edge upon her tongue." Then turning to Otomie I added, "I pray you be more gentle, wife, for my sake if not for your own. Marina is our only hope."
"Would that she had left us to die in peace, husband. Well, so be it, for your sake I will put on these garments of a drab. But how shall we escape out of this place and the camp? Will the door be opened to us, and the guards removed, and if we pa.s.s them, can you walk, husband?"
"The doors will not be opened, lady," said Marina, "for those wait without, who will see that they are locked when I have pa.s.sed them. But there will be nothing to fear from the guard, trust to me for it. See, the bars of this window are but of wood, that sword will soon sever them, and if you are seen you must play the part of a drunken soldier being guided to his quarters by a woman. For the rest I know nothing, save that I run great risk for your sakes, since if it is discovered that I have aided you, then I shall find it hard to soften the rage of Cortes, who, the war being won," and she sighed, "does not need me now so much as once he did."
"I can make shift to hop on my right foot," I said, "and for the rest we must trust to fortune. It can give us no worse gifts than those we have already."
"So be it, Teule, and now farewell, for I dare stay no longer. I can do nothing more. May your good star shine on you and lead you hence in safety; and Teule, if we never meet again, I pray you think of me kindly, for there are many in the world who will do otherwise in the days to come."
"Farewell, Marina," I said, and she was gone.
We heard the doors close behind her, and the distant voices of those who bore her litter, then all was silence. Otomie listened at the window for a while, but the guards seemed to be gone, where or why I do not know to this hour, and the only sound was that of distant revelry from the camp.
"And now to the work," I said to Otomie.
"As you wish, husband, but I fear it will be profitless. I do not trust that woman. Faithless in all, without doubt she betrays us. Still at the worst you have the sword, and can use it."
"It matters little," I answered. "Our plight cannot be worse than it is now; life has no greater evils than torment and death, and they are with us already."
Then I sat upon the stool, and my arms being left sound and strong, I hacked with the sharp sword at the wooden bars of the window, severing them one by one till there was a s.p.a.ce big enough for us to creep through. This being done and no one having appeared to disturb us, Otomie clad me in the clothes of a Spanish soldier which Marina had brought, for I could not dress myself. What I suffered in the donning of those garments, and more especially in the pulling of the long boot on to my burnt foot, can never be told, but more than once I stopped, pondering whether it would not be better to die rather than to endure such agonies. At last it was done, and Otomie must put on the red and yellow robe, a garb of shame such as many honest Indian women would die sooner than be seen in, and I think that as she did this, her agony was greater than mine, though of another sort, for to her proud heart, that dress was a very shirt of Nessus. Presently she was clad, and minced before me with savage mockery, saying:
"Prithee, soldier, do I look my part?"
"A peace to such fooling," I answered; "our lives are at stake, what does it matter how we disguise ourselves?"
"It matters much, husband, but how can you understand, who are a man and a foreigner? Now I will clamber through the window, and you must follow me if you can, if not I will return to you and we will end this masquerade."
Then she pa.s.sed through the hole swiftly, for Otomie was agile and strong as an ocelot, and mounting the stool I made shift to follow her as well as my hurts would allow. In the end I was able to throw myself upon the sill of the window, and there I was stretched out like a dead cat till she drew me across it, and I fell with her to the ground on the further side, and lay groaning. She lifted me to my feet, or rather to my foot, for I could use but one of them, and we stared round us. No one was to be seen, and the sound of revelry had died away, for the crest of Popo was already red with the sunlight and the dawn grew in the valley.
"Where to?" I said.
Now Otomie had been allowed to walk in the camp with her sister, the wife of Guatemoc, and other Aztec ladies, and she had this gift in common with most Indians, that where she had once pa.s.sed there she could pa.s.s again, even in the darkest night.
"To the south gate," she whispered; "perhaps it is unguarded now that the war is done, at the least I know the road thither."
So we started, I leaning on her shoulder and hopping on my right foot, and thus very painfully we traversed some three hundred yards meeting n.o.body. But now our good luck failed us, for pa.s.sing round the corner of some buildings, we came face to face with three soldiers returning to their huts from a midnight revel, and with them some native servants.
"Whom have we here?" said the first of these. "Your name, comrade?"
"Good-night, brother, good-night," I answered in Spanish, speaking with the thick voice of drunkenness.
"Good morning, you mean," he said, for the dawn was breaking. "Your name. I don"t know your face, though it seems that you have been in the wars," and he laughed.
"You mustn"t ask a comrade his name," I said solemnly and swinging to and fro. "The captain might send for me and he"s a temperate man. Your arm, girl; it is time to go to sleep, the sun sets."
They laughed, but one of them addressed Otomie, saying: