HKB
A STORM COMING
"A monarchy! a monarchy! nothing but the one-man power will ever do anything for this miserable multitude of Indians, negroes, and rebellion-making Spanish aristocrats. Royalty is our only resource, and I am nearly ready to strike the required blow. I think that Don Maria Paredes would make as good an emperor as Augustin de Yturbide, and he will wear the crown of Mexico somewhat longer. But I must look out for Santa Anna. If he were to return from Cuba too soon, there would be nothing left for me but to have him shot as soon as he came ashore. Or else he might have me shot not many days afterward. His emissaries and spies are all the while working against me, but I shall catch some of them. Oh, how I would like to get hold of that venomous conspirator, Zuroaga!"
The President and practically the dictator of the nominal republic of Mexico was standing in his own luxurious chamber of the government palace in the city of Mexico. He was in the full uniform of a general officer, for he was preparing to ride out and attend a review of a division of the really large army which he had gathered to move against the American invaders at the north. He deemed himself favored by fortune, for all things had thus far appeared to operate in the direction of his high ambition. He was in possession of undisputed power, and his time for making his supremacy permanent had arrived. It was the morning of the 4th of August, 1846, and it promised to be a splendid day for a parade. He had eloquently appealed to all the patriotism in the land, and he had used his last dollar in raising the troops who were to win his victories and place him firmly upon the throne of Anahuac, the lost throne of the Montezumas. A large part of his forces had already marched, and he was now to follow with the remainder. It was high time that he should do so, for General Taylor's army was daily drawing nearer the Mexican lines at the city of Monterey. Not many minutes later, he rode away from the palace, attended by a brilliant staff, through crowded streets, where every hat went off and all the voices shouted "Viva Paredes" with every appearance of enthusiasm.
That morning Ned Crawford had not felt like going out of the city to see any review. Days had passed since the departure of General Zuroaga, but Ned's head was full of what his friend had said to him, and he did not care much in what direction his feet might take him. So, having all that responsibility to themselves, they carried him on across the city until, when he looked around him, he saw that he had almost reached the front gate of the out-of-date fort, which was known as "the citadel." It always contained a large garrison, not by any means for the defence of the capital from external foes, but for the protection of whatever might be the "government" for the time being from any sudden tumult or attempted revolution. There were officers and a squad of soldiers standing a few paces out in front of the wide-open military portal, and they all were gazing intently in the same direction. Ned also turned to look, but all that he could see was a solitary rider, upon what seemed to be an all but exhausted horse, urging the panting animal toward the citadel.
"Colonel Guerra!" exclaimed Ned. "What has brought him all the way from Vera Cruz? Has our army come? Is the city taken?"