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"Quick!" Cristoval whispered, "They are upon us!" (Page 196)
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
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of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
Title: The Crimson Conquest
A Romance of Pizarro and Peru
Author: Charles Bradford Hudson
Release Date: August 28, 2016 [EBook #52920]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIMSON CONQUEST ***
With Frontispiece in full color by
J. C. LEYENDECKER
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England
The University Press, Cambridge, U.S.A.
This tale is to be of days when the green
forest-aisles and mountain trails of America saw the
glint of the steel of men in armor. It will have
to do with times when the aborigine looked upon the
sparkle of lance, the flutter of pennon, the gleam of
corselet, helm, and morion, and felt his primeval turf tremble
beneath the hoofs of steeds in full panoply. It will tell
of plumed and plated cavaliers, "In brave pursuit of
chivalrous emprise," who found in the wilderness of the New
World adventures no less hardy, and near as strange,
as any fabled one encountered by knight of old.
It is easily half forgotten that our continent has its
chronicles which link us with the age of chivalry; that its
soil once sustained the march of men armed cap-a-pie, as
bold of heart, greedy for renown, and thirsty for blood,
as ever a crusader. They came, proof-valiant against all
peril; of a fire-eating, eager courage surpassed alone by
their truculence and cruelty; of a courage to meet not only
dangers real, but a myriad direful ones born of fancy. For
they were, withal, men of imagination and fine, wide
credulity. They peopled the West with Amazons, giants,
dragons, and legions of beings of varied and curious
monstrosity. They were prepared in mind not only to fight
battles, but to encounter sorcerers, witches, and the Fiend
himself; to undergo all manner of spells, charms,
enchantments, and kindred grisly experiences and phenomena.
They sought earnestly, conscientiously, and with
diligence, for golden Manoa and its emperor, El Dorado,
and for the Fountain of Perpetual Youth. If they failed
to come upon these, and did no preternatural deeds, they
were none the less heroes, animated by the spirit of
knight-errantry, which with them took its final leave of earth.
Toward the end of a day in the year Fifteen
Hundred and Thirty-one, as the air cooled
slightly with the sun's decline, the plaza of
the little Spanish city of Panama grew languidly
animate. The square had blazed, shimmered,
and baked all day, shunned in its fervor except by those
compelled to cross it in order to avoid the exertion of
going round, or by the few straggling natives whose
half-naked bodies and sun-tanned hides were proof;
but this was the hour of listless awakening, and groups
formed at the corners, exchanging gossip—if by a
blessing there was gossip to exchange—and awaiting the
sole break in the sultry monotony of the day, the
evening parade of the garrison with its stimulating bang of
the culverin at sunset.
The dominant type in these groups was that of the
fighting man. Some were sailors, a few were planters;
but most of the swarthy faces wore the unmistakable
marks of the soldier. The dress and bearing of a small
number indicated rank; but all, save a sprinkling of
ecclesiastics and civil officers of the Crown, were
adventurers, and bore evidence, in their worn apparel, in their
scars, and in their bronzed and weatherbeaten features,
of severe campaigns and hardship.
This particular evening the ceremony of the parade
received less than usual attention. Two ships had
entered the harbor the day before, bearing news and
plunder from Francisco Pizarro's expedition to the coast of
South America. The inn at the side of the plaza was
full of men. Its wineshop was overflowing, but the
rattle of dice, the oaths, and controversy were wanting.
In front lounged a crowd, thickening at the door, where
swayed lazily a banner displaying a device new to
heraldry,—the arms of Pizarro. At the portal stood a
halberdier in corselet and morion fresh-burnished,
recounting with vaunt and gasconade an alluring tale of
rapine, which was heard with varying degrees of
interest, credulity, or scepticism. There was no
enthusiasm. Some sauntered doubtfully away. A few heeded,
and finally entered the door. Within, there was more
animation.
Behind a table near the rear, leaning comfortably
against the wall, his legs sprawled under the board and
his hands thrust into his belt, sat a sturdy cavalier. He
was listening with some amusement to the excited
comments of the men about him as they passed a golden
bracelet of barbaric design which he had tendered for
their inspection. He was between thirty-five and forty
years old—perhaps nearer the latter. His sunbrowned
countenance gave the impression of being stern, almost
fierce. A close-shorn beard, nearly black, covered a
firm, well-formed jaw, and with the trim cut of his
hair, suggested a care of person conspicuous among
the rough-looking campaigners in the room. The
upward twist of his mustachios and strongly aquiline
nose gave his face a pronounced military character,
borne out presently, when he straightened up from
his lounging attitude, by the erect bearing and squareness
of shoulder that belong to the soldierly calling.
A closer view dispelled the first notion of fierceness,
for from the ruggedly marked brows looked a pair of
dark eyes, clear, frank, well lined about with
crow's-feet, and enlivened by good humor.
While he conversed with those nearest, the bracelet
circulated from hand to hand, was scrutinized, bitten,
rung upon the tables to test its metal, and was finally
handed back by a seedy-looking soldier, who observed:
"By my faith, Señor Cristoval, that bauble hath the
proper color. There is more of yellow in its complexion
than I've seen for many a day. Thou mayst set me
down. I go to Peru. Hola! camaradas , d'ye hear? I
go to Peru. Who will follow?"
His example and the lure of the gold had their sure
effect. In a moment the officer was busy with his pen,
while an eager group leaned over the table to watch as
he wrote their names and answers to his brisk
questions. Their enthusiasm spread among the loungers
outside, and before it subsided a dozen or more
enlisted for the expedition. Most of the recruits were
half-starved fellows who had idled about the colony for
months, unable to secure employment for their swords
since the rebellion in Nicaragua had been suppressed,
and disdainful of work less honorable. A few were
fully equipped, but many had sold, pawned, or gambled
away their arms and armor, and had only their rapiers,
which they retained as a necessity. During this first
day of recruiting, a score had been sent to the
temporary quarters, with instructions first to gather up or
locate whatever of equipment they could find.
Candles had been brought, the room had nearly
emptied, and the officer was arranging his papers,
when he heard the sound of hoofs and the voice of
the halberdier, evidently addressing a rider.
" Hola , Pedro! Blessed Faith! Is it thou?"
The response was not immediate, and the creaking
of the saddle, with sundry grunts and adjurations to the
animal, indicated that the newcomer was dismounting.
The operation was made difficult by the fact that he
had a wooden leg, the left having been taken off at the
knee. He puffed as he finally stood, but presently
answered the soldier in a voice of much volume and with
uncommon blandness and fluency.
"It is I,—that is, my solid parts. Of the rest,
those volatile are volatilized; those meltable, melted
and bedewing the grass along my trail. Thou seest
but a parboiled residuum. Wilt hold my mule?"
"Hold thy mule!" replied the halberdier, with
proper soldierly scorn. "Not I, by the fiend!"
"Nay! Keep thy temper, my lusty buck soldier,"
said the other, with suavity. "I meant no flattery."
"In offering thee the privilege.—Here, boy," he
called to a half-breed urchin, "guard my steed. But
keep in front of him, for he hath a twofold
nature,—tender-hearted to a fault as far as the saddle-girth;
behind it, maleficent as the powers of evil." He turned
again to the soldier. "Is this thy recruiting office, Señor
Alabardero ?"
"Ah!" assented the halberdier. "But, Sacramento !
Dost think to enlist, Pedro?"
"Why, if I can count, thou hast legs too few by half."
"Then thou canst not count, for I have three.
Two I have with me,—one mine by right of birth,
the other by right of purchase, and of as good wood
as that of which thy head is made. The third lieth
in Italy, four feet under ground, but still mine, nihilo
minus ,—which is Latin, my friend, and meaneth
'nevertheless.' But dost require more legs in thy recruits,
halberdier? If so, it must be a running game, this
campaigning in Peru."
" Bastante !" growled the soldier. "Thou hast legs
enough, and tongue enough, God wot!"
"Good! Then I'll enter. Who is the officer?"
"I've heard of him," said Pedro, and stumped
into the room. Cristoval looked up, to behold a man
ten years his senior, slightly corpulent, with a full
round face, now reddened by the heat and exertion
of riding, which he mopped vigorously as he advanced
with sombrero under his arm. Smooth-shaven, somewhat
bald, and with gray hair closely cropped, there
was a suggestion of the priest or monk in his countenance,
further aided by the genial benignancy of his
expression. A frock would, indeed, have made him
the most jovial-looking of ecclesiastics, and his
well-fed and comfortable appearance would have helped the
disguise. A large mouth, a nose formidable but well
shaped, and eyes with ever a lurking twinkle, made
up a face to be warmed to at first glimpse. The
precision of his salute left no doubt in Cristoval's mind
that the missing leg had been lost on the battle-field,
and he surveyed the man with interest.
"Let me not interrupt, Señor Teniente ," said Pedro.
"I am in no hurry."
"I have finished," replied Cristoval. "How can
I serve thee?"
Cristoval nodded, thinking of the rabble already
enrolled that day, and wondering whether this
one-legged veteran purposed offering himself.
" Bien! " said Pedro. "I would join the expedition."
" Como asi ! Just so!" replied the other, with a
wave of the hand. "I'm not all here, as the cannoneer
observed when his pieces were scattered over a thousand
yards by the explosion of his gun. But there is
enough of me for the purpose, señor, for I am a cook,—a
cantinero . I seek not to enlist, but the privilege of
filling a moderate space aboard thy brigantine with
myself, my helper, called Pedrillo, and such stores and
gear as will fit a canteen."
"Draw up a chair," said Cristoval, pleased with the
cook's manner. "We will consider it. Thy name?"
"So I heard thee called by the halberdier."
"Ah!—the rest of my name? H'm! Why, I'll
tell thee, señor, I have not always been a
cook—and—pardon me—"
"I see," said Cristoval, with delicacy. " No importa .
We'll let it go. Thou'rt Pedro."
Pedro bowed. After some conversation the
arrangement was made. "Now," said Cristoval, "there
are three or four of us from the ship quartered together,
and we need a cook. There is Ruiz, the pilot; José,
the principal armorer; and I look for De Soto from
Nombre de Dios. He is to command when we sail.
Couldst take charge of the rancho whilst we remain in
Panama? Couldst begin at once? Good! Then 'tis
agreed. I've taken the inn kept by Señora Bolio for
quarters for the company, but her cooks are all Indios
and worthless, and—What aileth thee, man?"
At the señora's name Pedro opened his mouth,
pushed back his chair, and sat looking at the cavalier
in manifest disquiet. "Bolio!" he whispered. "Bolio!
Dost know her, Señor Teniente ?"
"No. What of her?" demanded Cristoval, remembering
that certain of his recruits had heard her
name with similar uneasiness. "I saw her only for
a moment when we came ashore yesterday. Dost
know her, thou?"
Pedro turned away with a gesture as if to wave
him off. He faced about. "Do I know her! Warily
and charily, señor—as a pup knoweth the family cat!
Ah, Madre ! Lieutenant Cristoval, she hath a tongue
like a flail—like a red-hot rapier. Thou shouldst
hear her storm—at some other man—when she is
roused! Nay, smile not! I once heard her
berating her servants, and they wilted, withered,
shrivelled like spiders on a hot skillet. Ah, stew me!
Bolio!"
"Thou dost stir mine interest, Pedro," said Cristoval.
"Who is the lady?"
Pedro laid a broad hand upon the table with suppressed
vehemence. "Bolio!" he replied, as if nothing
could be added.
"I know little save from hearsay, señor," he continued;
"she was a vivandera with the armies in Italy in
her youth. Thou knowest that training. Diablo ! I saw
her in the Neapolitan campaign against Louis XII."
Cristoval interrupted. "What! Didst serve with
Gonsalvo?"
"With the Great Captain," said Pedro.
"Then, by Saint Michael, we were comrades!"
Pedro nodded without surprise, and continued
quickly: "She had beauty then, señor. Poor girl!
She was learning, by hard experience, to hold all men
her enemies. She hath not forgotten. I heard of her
again in the campaign of '22, and again at Pavia, where
I left my leg. After that, no more until I found her
here at Panama, two years ago. It is said she worked
her way hither from Spain, disguised as a common
sailor, and I doubt it not, for I have known of another
woman who did as much. Por cierto , her eloquence was
not gained in camps alone! It hath the savor of the sea
as well, and she commandeth the most vigorous that
each affordeth, my head upon it! But whatever her
youth, Señor Cristoval, the saints preserve the man who
would turn a soft eye upon her to-day. She weigheth, I
should guess, some twelve or fourteen stone. 'T is all
hostility!"
Cristoval reflectively gathered up his papers.
"Well," he said, "we can pray for peace. Let us go."
" Misericordia ! I think I had best ride back to my
hacienda for the night, Señor Teniente ."
"Absurd, Pedro! Thou 'rt to begin thy duties in
the morning. Come."
Accompanied reluctantly by the stout cook leading
his mule, and followed by the halberdier, Cristoval led
down a narrow, garbage-littered street to a large house
built around the usual patio. It had been the residence
of some officer of government, and its size made it
suitable for the recruiting officer, the poverty of whose
levies made it necessary to provide for their keep before
sailing to join Pizarro. They entered the suggestively
quiet court, and having seen that his recruits had made
proper use of the kitchen, Cristoval gave orders
concerning quarters for the night, and ascended to the
second floor in quest of the señora. He found her
alone in a dim-lighted, lofty, bare-walled apartment,—the
salon of the establishment in its better days.
The señora was a black-haired, black-eyed woman
of generous proportions. She wore, now and generally,
an air of stern repression of what Cristoval, after
Pedro's account, knew to be the hostility mentioned.
Notwithstanding the marring effects of a stormy career
on her rather florid face, she was not uncomely. Her
eyes were those of her race, which seem always smouldering
with the fire of passion, gentle or the reverse as
the case may be. She received the cavalier with
dignity; heard his explanation of Pedro's status; directed,
coldly, that her servants be called upon for assistance,
and Cristoval bowed himself away with relief.
The next day the whole city crowded to look
upon the booty from Peru, on display at the
office of the governor, and many an adventurer,
after feasting his eyes on the gleaming treasure,
went straight to the door beneath the banner of the
"Army of the Conquest." Thereafter the recruiting
went on rapidly, and the Bolio establishment soon
wore the appearance of a barrack. When sufficiently
advertised the office was transferred from the square,
and now the banner floated over the Bolio gate.
The arrival of Hernando de Soto with a small
company lent new impetus. The participation of a
leader of his reputation gave confidence to many who
had hesitated to enlist in an enterprise which had
already met serious reverses and was led by one
commonly regarded as visionary. Neither Pizarro nor his
partner, Diego de Almagro, had been known as other than
needy soldiers of fortune, and not even the countenance
given by the Crown of Spain had raised them above
the derisive scepticism of Panama. It had long been
incredulous regarding a rich and civilized empire to the
southward, and had been niggardly in its support. The
two preceding expeditions had met disaster complete;
but the leaders persisted with unconquered resolution,
and the matter began to assume moment. There were
scoffers still, but many who had held aloof hastened
to offer service. Most of the levies were drawn by
mere hope of plunder, or driven by sheer necessity.
Some were impelled by ambition for the sort of glory
won by the conquerors of Mexico. A few were
attracted by the audacity and perseverance of the
commander, bu
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