hrough. There, far up the room, the faint light
gleaming on her snowy dress, her raven hair and ornaments of gold, stood
Otomie my bride.

I went towards her, and as I came she glided to meet me with
outstretched arms. Presently they were about my neck and her kiss was on
my brow.

'Now all is done, my love and lord,' she whispered, 'and come good or
ill, or both, we are one till death, for such vows as ours cannot be
broken.'

'All is done indeed, Otomie, and our oaths are lifelong, though other
oaths have been broken that they might be sworn,' I answered.

Thus then I, Thomas Wingfield, was wed to Otomie, princess of the
Otomie, Montezuma's daughter.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE NIGHT OF FEAR

Long before I awoke that day the commands of the council had been
carried out, and the bridges in the great causeways were broken down
wherever dykes crossed the raised roads that ran through the waters of
the lake. That afternoon also I went dressed as an Indian warrior with
Guatemoc and the other generals, to a parley which was held with Cortes,
who took his stand on the same tower of the palace that Montezuma had
stood on when the arrow of Guatemoc struck him down. There is little to
be said of this parley, and I remember it chiefly because it was then
for the first time since I had left the Tobascans that I saw Marina
close, and heard her sweet and gentle voice. For now as ever she was by
the side of Cortes, translating his proposals of peace to the Aztecs.
Among those proposals was one which showed me that de Garcia had not
been idle. It asked that the false white man who had been rescued from
the altars of the gods upon the teocalli should be given in exchange for
certain Aztec prisoners, in order that he might be hung according to
his merits as a spy and deserter, a traitor to the emperor of Spain. I
wondered as I heard, if Marina knew when she spoke the words, that 'the
false white man' was none other than the friend of her Tobascan days.

'You see that you are fortunate in having found place among us Aztecs,
Teule,' said Guatemoc with a laugh, 'for your own people would greet you
with a rope.'

Then he answered Cortes, saying nothing of me, but bidding him and all
the Spaniards prepare for death:

'Many of us have perished,' he said; 'you also must perish, Teules. You
shall perish of hunger and thirst, you shall perish on the altars of the
gods. There is no escape for you Teules; the bridges are broken.'

A