The White Conquerors: A Tale of Toltec and Aztec

At the same time, silent but active preparations were being made in all parts of the city, though, of course, unseen by the Spaniards, for their destruction. As every Cholulan to whom the secret was known fondly hoped, the hour was at hand in which the boasted prowess of these invaders should come to naught and they should be sacrificed to the wrath of the Aztec gods. Everywhere the exulting natives swarmed to the housetops along the designated line of march, and stationed themselves near the ample stores of missiles already gathered; or they collected in armed bodies, whispering, but jubilant over the perfection of their plans, in the side streets, from which they were to leap, like mountain lions, on their helpless prey. The Aztec army, secretly prepared for this emergency, entered the city, and so swelled the number of assailants that no Cholulan doubted for a moment as to which side should be granted the victory in the coming conflict. So, impatiently and joyously, they awaited the signal with which their triumph would begin.

Outside the city Huetzin's grim Tlascalans, each with a fillet of grass bound about his head to distinguish him from an Aztec or a Cholulan, awaited the signal that should send them into action with an equal impatience. They too were without a doubt as to the result of the battle. Had they not fought against the white conquerors? and did they not know, from bitter experience, the extent of their terrible powers? What would avail the puny efforts of the pottery-making Cholulans against beings before whom even the mountain warriors of Tlascala could not stand? That they should dare, for a moment, to oppose the white conquerors, to say nothing of themselves, was a subject for scornful mirth in the Tlascalan camp. As for Huetzin, he was filled with the nervous anxiety of a young commander about to engage in his first battle. Of this, however, he effectually concealed all traces in the presence of his warriors, to whom he presented a calm and cheerful countenance. His friend and brother, Sandoval, had urged him to don a cap of steel, such as were worn by the conquerors themselves; but this, Huetzin had firmly declined, saying that he would wear no armor that could not be equally shared by his warriors. Now, therefore, he was clad as they were, in a doublet of quilted cotton, and wore on his head a simple fillet of grass. Above it waved the graceful plume of a white heron, which, with his Spanish sword, formed the distinguishing badges of his rank.

The sun had hardly risen before the Cholulan Caciques, who were to guide the Spanish army through the city streets, presented themselves at the temple and were admitted. They were followed by a thousand or more of tamanes, who, as the quick eye of Cortes instantly detected, were all armed with weapons, of one kind or another, thrust into their girdles. These were halted in the centre of the court, while the Caciques advanced, with smiling faces and complimentary words, to where the Spanish commander sat on his gray steed. Their smiles were quickly exchanged for expressions of consternation; for, with scornful words, Cortes began to charge them with their treachery, and showed himself to be acquainted with all the details of their conspiracy. He recalled the apparent friendliness with which they and their king had invited him to Cholula, and the mask of hospitality with which they had covered their base designs. Now he demanded to know what they had to say for themselves, and whether any form of punishment could be too severe for such perfidy.

The trembling Caciques were overwhelmed by these terrible words, and a memory of the supernatural powers credited to these mysterious strangers, who seemed able to read their most hidden thoughts, came back to them. They dared not deny the accusation just made, and so made a full confession of the conspiracy, only striving to lay the entire blame upon Montezuma, by whose orders they claimed to have acted, and whom they dared not disobey.

Merely regarding this as a further evidence of Cholulan cowardice, and declaring that he was now about to make such an example of them as should cause their false-hearted king to tremble on his throne, Cortes raised his hand. At the signal every Spanish musket and cross-bow was levelled, and so deadly a volley of bullets and bolts was poured into the dense body of natives, huddled together like sheep in the middle of the court, that they fell by scores. Then the soldiers leaped forward to complete their work with sword and pike.

In another moment the combined throngs of Cholulans and Aztecs, gathered outside the walls, hearing the sounds of strife, advanced, with exulting cries, to an attack upon the Spaniards. As they rushed forward there came a burst of flame full in their faces, and, with a thunderous roar, increased tenfold by reverberations from enclosing buildings, Mesa's guns hurled forth their deadly tempest. Ere the bewildered natives could comprehend the nature of what had happened, the cavalry was upon them with sword, lance, and trampling, iron-shod hoofs. By the onrush of succeeding hosts these were driven back; but again Mesa's reloaded guns swept the narrow streets. Again and again were these tactics repeated with frightful losses to the natives and almost none to their adversaries.

In the mean time, Huetzin's warriors, dashing forward like tigers at sound of the first volley, fell on the rear of the swarming Aztecs with such fury that none could withstand them. Dismayed and panic-stricken the townsmen gave way and took refuge in their houses. Even here the fierce Tlascalans pursued them, and setting fire to such structures as were of wood, soon caused whole blocks of buildings to be enveloped in flames.

Ever in the front, using his keen Toledo blade with deadly effect, Huetzin cheered on his followers. Suddenly he detected a body of skulking priests who had come from all the temples of the city to share in the anticipated victory of their benighted adherents. Now they were seeking safety in flight. Like a flash of light came a vision of innocent children torn to death by these human wolves, and, with an inarticulate cry of rage, the young Toltec darted after them. A number of his warriors sprang to his side, and, as the priests dashed up the long flight of steps leading to the summit of the great pyramid, the Tlascalans were close on their heels. Hardly had the panting fugitives gained the upper platform, ere others, who had already sought this place of refuge, rolled great stones down on the heads of their pursuers.

Many a mountain warrior was swept, lifeless, to the bottom of the vast pile before the survivors obtained a foothold on its summit; but, once there, these took ample revenge for the death of their comrades. The cowardly priests, who had heretofore urged others to fight, but who had themselves wielded no weapon save the bloody knife of sacrifice, now fought for their lives, but with no more effect against Huetzin and his fierce Tlascalans, than if they had been so many carrion crows. The face of the murdered Tlahuicol rose before his son's vision, and the despairing cries of thousands of priestly victims rang in the ears of the young Toltec as he closed with the mob of blood-stained wretches who sought in vain the protection of their gods. With no thought save of vengeance, he leaped among them, his sword drinking life blood with every stroke. Animated by his example, his followers dealt death-blows on all sides with a fury only excelled by his own.

From the top of the wooden temple in which the image of the god was enshrined, the Cholulans poured down javelins, stones, and burning arrows. Snatching a blazing brand from an altar, Huetzin set fire to the building, and, with the aid of some Spaniards, who now appeared on the scene, he dragged the great idol from its pedestal, and hurled it, crashing, down a side of the lofty pyramid, at the base of which it was shattered into a hundred fragments.

Priest after priest shared the fate of the god, by leaping from the blazing turrets of the temple, or flung over the parapet by the Tlascalans. Finally Huetzin, with the fury of battle in his face and the blazing eyes of a young war god, looked about him in vain for another victim. None was left, and, for the first time in two centuries the great temple of his Toltec ancestors was freed from its defilement of blood-thirsty Aztec gods and their vile priests.

As he realized this, a solemn joy took possession of the young warrior, and, though he was bleeding from many wounds he felt them not. He seemed to hear the myriad voices of his forefathers united in praise and blessing, and for a moment he stood in rapt unconsciousness of his surroundings. Then, lifting his eyes to the glowing noonday sky, he reverently and slowly traced the sacred symbol of the God of the Four Winds.

At this moment he was recalled to earthly things by a mighty hand-grasp, and the hearty tones of Sandoval's voice, saying, "Thou hast done nobly, my warrior brother! I came in time to witness the conclusion of thy fighting, and never saw I a more finished bit of work. Thou hast indeed smitten the idolater in his stronghold, and here, on the site of yonder smoking temple, shall thou and I erect a goodly cross, the holy symbol of thy religion and of mine."

CHAPTER XVIII.

FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE MEXICAN VALLEY

After four hours of fighting and slaughter, Cortes concluded that the lesson thus given the Cholulans was one that would not be speedily forgotten. So he withdrew his forces to their own quarters, at the same time ordering the Tlascalans back to their camp. The mountaineers bore with them quantities of plunder, mostly things of every-day use in Cholula, but so rare in the poorer city of Tlascala as to be deemed luxuries. They also carried off nearly a thousand prisoners whom they intended to devote to slavery. Through the influence of Huetzin, who vividly remembered his own sufferings as a prisoner of war, and recalled the charge given him by the chief of Titcala to be merciful in the hour of victory, these were ultimately released and allowed to return to their homes.

The young Toltec, with the permission of Cortes and accompanied by Sandoval, also visited every temple in the city, and, throwing open the doors of their cages or dungeons, gave freedom to hundreds of wretched prisoners who had been doomed to sacrifice. The only service required of these, in return for their liberty, was that they should bury the victims of the recent battle. As the dead numbered nearly three thousand, and as their bodies were exposed to the hot sun in all parts of the city, their speedy removal was a matter of prime necessity.

In spite of this sad record of fighting, burning, slaughter, and pillage, no woman or child in all Cholula had been harmed by either Spaniard or Tlascalan. This fact went so far toward restoring confidence in the honor and forbearance of the white conquerors that, when Cortes issued a proclamation inviting all citizens to return to their homes with an assurance of safety, the invitation was generally accepted. Thus, within a few days, the city had nearly recovered its former air of peaceful prosperity. Markets and workshops were reopened, the streets were filled with a busy population, and only the blackened ruins lining certain streets remained to tell of the fiery ordeal through which Cholula had so recently passed.

During this period of peaceful occupation by the conquerors, not only was no human sacrifice offered to the humbled Aztec gods, but no priest dared show himself in the presence of Huetzin, the Toltec. From the hour of his terrible vengeance upon the priests of Quetzal's temple, he was known through the length and breadth of Anahuac as a bitter enemy of the Aztec gods and a relentless persecutor of their priests. He aided in erecting the cross of stone and lime on the summit of the great teocal, that Sandoval had promised should stand there; and, as he gazed at it in earliest morning light, or when bathed in the glory of a setting sun, he felt that the spirits of his ancestors must, indeed, be regarding his work with approval.

As the news of the punishment inflicted by the white conquerors upon the treacherous Cholulans spread through the land, numerous embassies began to pour into the Christian camp, with tenders of allegiance from provinces and cities, which gladly seized this opportunity for throwing off the galling Aztec yoke. All brought the same tales of cruelty and extortion; of oppressive taxation that left them impoverished; of their young men forced to serve in Montezuma's armies, and of the yearly tribute of slaves, which they were compelled to furnish from their own families.

Besides these petty, but always welcome, embassies, there came an imposing one, laden with presents, from the Aztec king. It brought assurances of that monarch's distinguished regard for the noble Spaniards, as well as his regrets for the unfortunate affair of Cholula. He disclaimed any share in the conspiracy, and rejoiced that so summary a punishment had been meted out to its authors. He explained the presence of one of his own armies in the vicinity of the city, on the ground that it had been sent to protect the Spaniards from any treachery on the part of their base Tlascalan allies.

Pretending to believe these fair, but false words, Cortes dismissed the embassy courteously, but without any message to their royal master. This, he said, he would shortly deliver in person, as he intended to proceed, without further delay, to Tenochtitlan.

After spending a fortnight in Cholula, and strengthening his position on all sides, the Spanish commander issued orders for leaving the sacred city and resuming the march toward the Aztec capital. On a glorious morning of early November, therefore, the allied forces again set forth, filled with the high hopes inspired by their recent victory, and impatient to enter new fields of conquest.

For several leagues their way lay through a smiling country of broad fields, luxuriant plantations, and thrifty villages, watered by numerous clear streams pouring down from the adjacent mountains. During their passage through this pleasant land Huetzin heard frequent rumors from friendly Indians of trouble that was in store for the invaders in the mountains that must be crossed before the Mexican valley could be reached. He faithfully reported these rumors to the commander, and, in consequence of them, the march was conducted with every precaution that prudence or military science could suggest. Advance and rear guards of cavalry were always maintained, while small bodies of Tlascalan scouts were thrown out on either side.

Although it was thought to be somewhat beneath the dignity of his rank to do so, Huetzin generally led one of these scouting parties in person, so anxious was he to prove his vigilance. At length he was rewarded by the capture of a courier, who was attempting to avoid the army by taking a wide circuit around it. From this prisoner he gained the information, that of the two roads crossing the mountains before them, one had been rendered impassable by orders from Montezuma. On the other, which was so rugged as to present almost insurmountable difficulties, an Aztec army was stationed in ambuscade for the destruction of the invaders.

Hastening to convey this important item of news to Cortes, Huetzin found the army halted at a place where two roads forked. One of them, as he had already learned, was filled, farther than the eye could reach, with great bowlders and the trunks of trees. The other was open, and at the outset looked to be much the easier and better of the two. At the moment of the young Toltec's arrival, the Aztec ambassadors who still remained with Cortes, had nearly persuaded him to take the open road. They assured him that the other would be found impassable for his cavalry and artillery, even if it were cleared of its obstructions.

The Aztec nobles were greatly confused when they heard Huetzin's report to the commander. They attempted a blunt contradiction of his statements; but Cortes, paying no further attention to them, warmly thanked his young ally for his timely service, and ordered that the obstructed road be cleared. To this task Huetzin set a thousand of his hardy mountaineers. These worked with such willing industry that, within two hours their task was accomplished, and the highway was open to the passage of the army. Thus the ambushed Aztecs were allowed to wait indefinitely for the coming of their expected victims, who, in the mean time, were proceeding cheerfully on their unmolested way.

The invaders now left the pleasant plateau on which they had lingered so long, and began the ascent of the bold mountain ranges separating it from the valley of Mexico. On their left towered the grand peak of Popocatepetl, clouded with smoke and fire, and lifting his majestic head nearly eighteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, or more than two thousand feet higher than Mont Blanc. On their right rose the vast proportions of snow-robed Iztaccihuatl, the "white woman." Between the two extended a steep barrier of bare, wind-swept rock, up which the rough road zigzagged its tedious way. From the snow-peaks came icy winds, chilling man and beast to the bone, while they were continually buffeted by fierce snow-squalls or tempests of cutting sleet. Dark gorges yawned on either side, and from their profound depths came dismal moanings, as though the storm demons were already lamenting the anticipated fall of the Aztec gods. Amid these surroundings the little army toiled painfully on, until darkness shrouded the dreary landscape, when, utterly exhausted, they clamored for a halt, declaring that human endurance could hold out no longer.

Again Huetzin came to the rescue with a knowledge of the road gained from his recent bitter experience as a hunted fugitive, in those same mountains. He assured them that a cluster of commodious post-houses, erected for the shelter of Montezuma's own troops and couriers, stood but a short distance ahead. Thus cheered, the Spaniards struggled on to the welcome haven so unwittingly provided by their enemy, where, by the aid of rousing fires, the fuel for which they found already cut and stored, they passed a night of comparative comfort.

Early on the succeeding day they passed the crest of the divide, and, feeling that the worst of their trials were now left behind, they advanced with buoyant steps down the western slope of the sierra. Suddenly a glad shout from the front woke the mountain echoes, and startled those who came behind. The leaders had turned an angle, and, as though by magic, the promised land was outspread before them. The superb valley of Mexico, unrivalled in the world for the exquisite beauty of its scenery, lay smiling in unclouded sunshine at their feet.

In an emerald setting of verdant fields, orchards, groves, and stately forests, blended with areas of yellow maize and blooming gardens, five lakes of heavenly blue shone like brilliant jewels. Clustered thickly about them, and even resting on their dimpled bosoms, were scores of white-walled cities, towns, and hamlets, all distinctly visible through the rarefied atmosphere. Most conspicuous of all, fairest and most stately of all, sat the Queen City of the New World. Tenochtitlan, the royal city of their hopes and dreams, was no longer an elusive mystery, but a visible reality. Near it rose the dark mass of Chapultepec, home of Aztec kings, crowned with the same majestic cypresses that shadow it to this day. It was a sight to repay years of suffering toil, and it is no wonder that these first white men gazed on it in spellbound silence.

CHAPTER XIX.

MONTEZUMA WELCOMES THE CONQUERORS TO TENOCHTITLAN

As the white conquerors descended by easy stages into this marvellous valley, making frequent pauses to admire the fertility of its fields, or the beauty of its white-walled villages nestled in green nooks, they were everywhere hailed by the people of the country as deliverers from the harsh tyranny of Montezuma. These received the all-powerful strangers with shouts and songs of rejoicing, at the same time showering upon them gifts of food and flowers. Thus, the march resembled the return of a victorious army rather than one of invasion and conquest. They were also met by another of Montezuma's numerous embassies bearing, as usual, gifts of gold, jewels, and rich mantles of fur or exquisite feather-work. Threats and persuasions having proved unavailing to check the progress of the conquerors, Montezuma was reduced to bribery as a last resort. This embassy brought the offer of two hundred pounds of gold to Cortes, fifty to each of his captains, and an annual tribute to the Spanish king if the strangers would return whence they came.

When this offer was refused, as all others had been, and it became clear that nothing would check the victorious advance of the Christians, the Aztec monarch shut himself up in his palace, refused food, and devoted himself to prayer and sacrifice. He saw his mighty kingdom slipping from him, and, with a fatal superstition that forbade him to oppose the will of the gods, he refused to make an effort for its defence. Cuitlahuac, his warlike brother, Guatamotzin, his impetuous nephew, and others of the bolder spirits among his nobles, urged him to summon his armies and make at least one heroic effort to save his tottering throne. Tlalco, the Toltec priest, who had so worked upon the king's weak nature as to become his chief adviser, said: "Leave to the gods the honor of annihilating these unbelievers in their own good time," and the king listened to the voice of the priest.

So Montezuma prepared to send forth his last embassy to the advancing conquerors, and ordered Cacama, Prince of Tezcuco, with a noble retinue, to meet and welcome them to Mexico. This meeting took place amid the beautiful gardens and stately residences of the royal city of Iztapalapan, situated between the fresh waters of Lake Chalco and the salt flood of the broad Tezcuco. Here the Spaniards were entertained with regal splendor, and here they passed the last night before entering the capital.

Never did nature assume a fairer aspect than when, on the following morning, the clear-voiced Spanish trumpets set the little army in motion for the final march of their eventful progress through the land of Anahuac. A mere handful of men, cut off from all communication with their own race, they had traversed the breadth of a wealthy and populous kingdom, overcome its hostile armies, captured one after another of its strongholds, and were now about to make a triumphant entry into its capital city. Their record was without a parallel in the history of the world. Thus it was with swelling hearts and a proud bearing that they stepped on the superb stone causeway spanning the waters of the salt lake, at the distant end of which lay the queenly city of Tenochtitlan.

This causeway was one of the noblest works of New World civilization. Constructed of huge blocks of stone, it was wide enough for ten horsemen to ride abreast, and stretched for more than a league, in a perfectly straight line, across the lake. At several points it was cut by canals for the passage of boats, and these were crossed by drawbridges, which, when lifted, barred all communication by land with the city. Midway of its length stood Xoloc, a stone fort of immense strength, flanked by towers, and giving passage through a battlemented gateway.

At this point, as the Spaniards advanced with silken banners streaming bravely out in the fresh morning air, burnished mail, and glittering weapons, proudly prancing steeds and rumbling guns, they were met by immense throngs of spectators, who had poured from the city to witness the strangest sight ever beheld in Anahuac. Not only did the astonished natives line both sides of the causeway with dense walls of curious humanity, but the waters of the lake were alive with thousands of their canoes. With equal, but restrained, curiosity did the Spaniards gaze on them; on the wonderful floating islands that, covered with a luxuriant vegetation, and even with miniature forests, appeared on both sides, gently undulating with the swell of the waves, and upon the vast extent of the stately city they were nearing.

As they approached the end of the causeway, and crossed its last bridge, they perceived the brilliant retinue of the king advancing to meet them, and halted to receive it. The royal palanquin, plated with burnished gold, was surrounded by a glittering throng of nobles, four of whom, barefooted, with downcast eyes and walking with slowly measured pace, supported it on their shoulders. Four others bore aloft the royal canopy of brilliant featherwork, powdered with jewels and fringed with gold. It was preceded by three princes bearing golden wands, and having robes of the most exquisite plumage thrown over their golden armor.

When the dazzling train had reached a convenient distance it halted, and Montezuma, descending from his litter, advanced on foot, leaning on the lords of Tezcuco and Iztapalapan. He was still shaded by the feathered canopy, and his golden sandals touched only the rich tapestry spread down before him by attendant nobles. His thronging subjects prostrated themselves to the ground as he passed, and no eye dared gaze on his countenance.

The king was simply clad in a broad embroidered maxtlatl, or waist sash, and the voluminous tilmatli, or Aztec cloak; but above his head, held in place by a golden fillet, nodded a panache of green plumes, such as he alone might wear.

Dismounting from his horse, and tossing his reins to a page, Cortes, attended by Sandoval and Alvarado, stepped forward to meet the monarch. As they came face to face these two gazed for a moment, in silence and with a curious interest, at each other. Then Montezuma welcomed his guests with a kingly courtesy, and announced that his brother, the Prince Cuitlahua, would conduct them to the quarters prepared for their reception.

His words being translated by Marina, Cortes responded with a few courtly expressions of profound respect, hung about the king's neck a glistening chain of colored crystals, and the momentous interview came to an end.

Montezuma, returning through the prostrate ranks of his people, re-entered his litter and was borne back into the city with the same state in which he had left it. The Spaniards followed with colors flying, drums and trumpets arousing the echoes with strains of martial music, and with the trampling of horses and the rumble of heavy guns sounding for the first time over the cemented pavements of Tenochtitlan.

As they marched, with heavy tread, up the principal avenue of the city, the troops gazed with undisguised amazement at the evidences of wealth and civilization surrounding them. For miles the way was lined with the residences of nobles. They were built of a handsome red sandstone, and though generally of but one story in height, each covered a large area. Although the flat, battlemented roofs of these buildings showed that they were capable of being converted into so many fortresses, this military character was softened by the beds of flowers and perfumed shrubbery with which most of them were covered. Often broad, terraced gardens appeared between the dwellings, and the straight lines of their monotonous architecture were broken, here and there, by the pyramidal bulk of some teocal, lifting its fire-crowned summit high above all other structures, the fountains and porticos of a square, or the crossing of a canal.

The profoundest impression was, however, created by the dense population, who swarmed on the house-tops, in the streets and squares, and on the canals, in such numbers as the Spaniards had not believed existed in all Anahuac. These everywhere greeted the white strangers with cheerful smiles and acclamations, mingled with expressions of wonder at their horses, weapons, costumes, and beards. But when the cavalry, infantry, and artillery had passed, the dark ranks of Tlascalan warriors, who followed, were met with the scowls and mutterings of an undying hatred. These were not lost upon Huetzin, who, proudly marching at the head of his mountaineers, returned them with interest. Whenever he passed a temple he sincerely hoped that some day he might lead his fierce warriors to its destruction. When he finally came in sight of the great teocal, where his noble father had died, and where he had so nearly lost his own life, his eyes glistened with a light that boded ill to this dwelling of the gods if ever he should be allowed to have his way with it.

Opposite the western side of the temple stood a vast and commodious range of buildings surrounded by a stone wall. These had formed the palace of Montezuma's father, and were now given over to the strangers, to be their place of abode so long as they should remain in the city. As they entered these quarters the king himself, surrounded by his nobles, stood in the courtyard waiting to receive them.

After his departure, Cortes made a careful inspection of the buildings, which were found to be ample for the accommodation of the entire army, and assigned to whites and Tlascalans their respective quarters. He then stationed the artillery so as to command the gateways, posted sentinels, ordered that no soldier should leave the enclosure without permission, and in every manner that his prudence dictated, guarded against attack or surprise. When this had been accomplished, the army was allowed to partake of the bountiful meal provided for it. Later in the day Cortes, accompanied by Marina and his captains, visited the palace of the king, by whom they were granted a long audience, and presented with costly gifts. At sunset the Spaniards celebrated their entrance into Tenochtitlan with a simultaneous discharge of all their artillery. This awe-inspiring sound, and its thunderous reverberations, combined with the sulphurous fumes of powder, filled the superstitious Aztecs with dismay, and convinced them that they were indeed entertaining beings of more than mortal powers.

After this two days were passed quietly, or in the interchange of ceremonious visits; but on the night of the third Huetzin, tired of inactivity, and disguising himself in a peasant's robe of nequen, sallied forth into the city. He had a vague hope of thus learning something of Tiata, which thus far he had been unable to do. Ever since sighting the Mexican valley her image had been constantly before him, and he was strongly impressed with the belief that she was still alive.