I learned that Cortes had come back, bringing Guatemoc and several of the princes with him, together with many of the noble Aztec ladies.
Indeed I saw and heard the soldiers gambling for these women when they were weary of their play for money, a description of each of them being written on a piece of paper.
One of these ladies answered well to Otomie, my wife, and she was put up to auction by the brute who won her in the gamble, and sold to a common soldier for a hundred pesos.
For these men never doubted but that the women and the gold would be handed over to them.
Thus things went for several days, during which I sat and slept in my prison untroubled by any, except the native woman who waited on me and brought me food in plenty.
During those days I ate as I have never eaten before or since, and I slept much, for my sorrows could not rid my body of its appetites and commanding need for food and rest.
Indeed I verily believe that at the end of a week, I had increased in weight by a full half; also my weariness was conquered at length, and I was strong again.
But when I was neither sleeping nor eating I watched at my window, hoping, though in vain, to catch some sight of Otomie or of Guatemoc.
If I might not see my friends, however, at least I saw my foe, for one evening de Garcia came and stared at my prison. He could not see me, but I saw him, and the devilish smile that flickered on his face as he went away like a wolf, made me shiver with a presage of woes to come.
For ten minutes or more he stood gazing at my window hungrily, as a cat gazes at a caged bird, and I felt that he was waiting for the door to be opened, and KNEW that it would soon be opened.
This happened on the eve of the day upon which I was put to torture.
Meanwhile, as time went on, I noticed that a change came over the temper of the camp.
The soldiers ceased to gamble for untold wealth, they even ceased from drinking to excess and from their riotous joy, but took to hanging together in knots discussing fiercely I could not learn of what.
On the day when de Garcia came to look at my prison there was a great gathering in the square opposite my prison, to which I saw Cortes ride up on a white horse and richly dressed.
The meeting was too far away for me to overhear what passed, but I noted that several officers addressed Cortes angrily, and that their speeches were loudly cheered by the soldiers.
At length the great captain answered them at some length, and they broke up in silence.
Next morning after I had breakfasted, four soldiers came into my prison and ordered me to accompany them.
‘Whither?’ I asked.
‘To the captain, traitor,’ their leader answered.
‘It has come at last,’ I thought to myself, but I said only:
‘It is well.
Any change from this hole is one for the better.’
‘Certainly,’ he replied; ‘and it is your last shift.’
Then I knew that the man believed that I was going to my death.
In five minutes I was standing before Cortes in his private house.
At his side was Marina and around him were several of his companions in arms.
The great man looked at me for a while, then spoke.
‘Your name is Wingfield; you are of mixed blood, half English and half Spanish.
You were cast away in the Tobasco River and taken to Tenoctitlan.
There you were doomed to personate the Aztec god Tezcat, and were rescued by us when we captured the great teocalli.
Subsequently you joined the Aztecs and took part in the attack and slaughter of the noche triste.
You were afterwards the friend and counsellor of Guatemoc, and assisted him in his defence of Tenoctitlan.
Is this true, prisoner?’
‘It is all true, general,’ I answered.
‘Good.
You are now our prisoner, and had you a thousand lives, you have forfeited them all because of your treachery to your race and blood.
Into the circumstances that led you to commit this horrible treason I cannot enter; the fact remains.
You have slain many of the Spaniards and their allies; that is, being in a state of treason you have murdered them. Wingfield, your life is forfeit and I condemn you to die by hanging as a traitor and an apostate.’
‘Then there is nothing more to be said,’ I answered quietly, though a cold fear froze my blood.
‘There is something,’ answered Cortes.
‘Though your crimes have been so many, I am ready to give you your life and freedom upon a condition.
I am ready to do more, to find you a passage to Europe on the first occasion, where you may perchance escape the echoes of your infamy if God is good to you.
The condition is this.
We have reason to believe that you are acquainted with the hiding place of the gold of Montezuma, which was unlawfully stolen from us on the night of the noche triste.
Nay, we know that this is so, for you were seen to go with the canoes that were laden with it.
Choose now, apostate, between a shameful death and the revealing to us of the secret of this treasure.’
For a moment I wavered.
On the one hand was the loss of honour with life and liberty and the hope of home, on the other a dreadful end.
Then I remembered my oath and Otomie, and what she would think of me living or dead, if I did this thing, and I wavered no more.
‘I know nothing of the treasure, general,’ I answered coldly.