The war chief of Tlacopan was indignant. "We will never make peace with Tlaxcala."
Don looked at him. "Yes, we will make our peace with all the tribes in all the lands, since only in this manner can we repel the attacks of the Spanish."
He had his way, but they were grudging.
The prisoners were housed in the tecpan, under ample guard, and Don and Cuauhtemoc went to supervise the recovery of the equipment of the Spanish army. Much of it had been dumped in the lake on both sides of the causeway and would have to be fished out, but a great deal had also been abandoned by the fleeing foe in the city streets or on the causeway top.
Cuauhtemoc happily told him about the events of the night before. In moments after the first onslaught of the Tenochas, the Spanish army had stopped being an army and had become a hysterical mob, each man for himself. The Indians in their canoes came up alongside the road and charged the causeway. They would grab a foe bodily and wrestle him down into the lake where other canoemen would haul him out and carry him away. The humanity was so packed that it was all but impossible for either side to wield their weapons.
When the fleeing mob of Spanish horsemen, Spanish foot, and Indian porters reached the second breach they were without means of crossing it. The portable bridge had become stuck after having so much weight on it, including the heavy cannon, and it was impossible to bring it up as first planned. Those who reached the breach first stopped, but those behind pushed them on so that hundreds fell into the lake, complete with baggage. Shortly there were so many bodies, especially of the Indians, that the balance could cross over on them. And as the mob continued its flight, the cannon were abandoned, the crossbows, the arquebuses. Lances, shields, pikes, and even swords were thrown away, the better to run.
And always the canoes debouched their warriors to take more prisoners or to slay. The crowding was such that hundreds fell off the causeway and into the waters, some to drown, some to be picked up and hauled away.
"It was a great sight," Cuauhtemoc wound it up in satisfaction.
"It must have been," Don said, shuddering.
He enumerated the things he particularly wanted rescued. All the cannon, all the weapons, all the armor, all the tools. All the gold and silver that had been recovered. All these were to be taken to the tecpan and stored.
At the mention of taking the gold and silver back to the tecpan, his companion looked at him in surprise. "Then, you too have this strange hunger for gold that the other teteuhs do?"
"No," Don said grimly, "but we'll need it later to deal with them and other Europeans. It is the most precious thing in their world, save life itself. The greater quantity we have, the better."
The rescue operations well under way, they returned to the tecpan to check the prisoners.
Don was surprised and elated at the fact that thirty-three horses had been captured. He had them temporarily housed in the improvised stables that the Spanish had built.
Cuitlahuac had rejoined them and they reviewed the prisoners who were standing and sitting about the largest of the courtyards in the enclosure. There were a hundred and forty-two of them, counting the twenty men that had been captured earlier in the fighting. Don recognized quite a few, including Padre Juan Diaz, the soft-spoken Avila, and even the page, Orteguilla. Most of them were wounded to one degree or the other, but the majority were still on their feet—still on their feet and portraying in their faces despair, resignation, defiance, and hate.
Don had his original table and stool brought, along with writing materials, and sat himself down at it. They watched him numbly, silently.
To the prisoners, Don said, "Your lives have been spared, due to my intervention. If you give your parole, pledge to try not to leave the city except upon my orders, you will be released upon the termination of the war. Form in a line. I wish the name of each man and his former occupation, if any, previous to becoming a soldier." Disbelief on their faces, since they had all expected to die on the altars in the temples, they lined up.
Don said to the priest, "Your Bible, please, Padre."
He put the Bible on the table, next to his paper, and took up the pen.
"First man. Name and former occupation."
"Garcia de Olguin. I was formerly a seaman."
"Put your hand upon the Bible and swear that you will not attempt escape."
"I swear."
"Next man."
"Pedro de Mafia. Carpenter."
"Good." Don went through the routine again, then called for the next man, without looking up.
"Gonzalo de Sandoval. Gentleman. And I will not give my parole, particularly to a man who broke his own." Don looked up. "Indeed? In actuality, I did not break my oath. You forget the wording of my parole. It applied only so long as the Captain-General remained in the city. He was gone when I escaped. If you will not give your parole, you will be isolated and kept under strict guard."
"So be it," Sandoval said mockingly and turned and joined those who had already been processed.
The next man said, "Bernal Diaz. I have been a soldier since becoming an adult. I am willing to give my parole." Don said, "I am glad you survived, Bernal. Next man." The next man said, "Juan Diego."
The name was Spanish, but the voice wasn't. It was thick and accented. Don looked up. For a moment he was surprised at seeing a black. The other wasn't dressed as a soldier, but rather a servant. Then Don, remembering his history now, blanched. The black man's face was badly pockmarked.
Don shot to his feet and snapped to Cuitlahuac, "Let this man go free! Immediately. Turn him loose and let him follow after the Spanish army. Have criers go before him and to each side, but not approaching near and let them warn all away."
His Indian companions were staring.
"He carries a dread disease from over the seas. If it spreads, it will decimate the city."
"Why not kill him?" Cuauhtemoc blurted.
"Even his corpse cannot be touched. Drive him from the city, immediately! And let no person come near him!" He turned to the bewildered black, who could sense he had started something but had no idea what. Don snapped at him, "You are free to go! Leave immediately! Avoid coming near any person!"
Stumbling, the man hurried away, followed at some distance by two warriors with spears. Cuauhtemoc shouted orders for criers to get out in front of him and clear the way.
Don sank down into his chair. Smallpox! It all came back to him now. A black servant with the Narvaez forces had brought it to Tenochtitlan, and the Indians, with no immunity to the European disease, had died like flies. Eventually, they had gotten their revenge, perhaps. The Europeans had never run into syphilis before, but it was rife among the Cuban Indians, who obligingly passed it on.
When they were all through, he found that he had some sixty-five men who had held trades before joining the Spanish expedition. They represented quite a cross-list— most, though not all, of use to him. He even had a former glassblower from Florence, Italy. Not all of the Cortes army came from Spain. There were Italians, French, Portuguese, and even a couple of Greeks. And one, possibly the most precious of all, was a wheelwright.
Only three—Sandoval, the priest, and the little page— had refused the parole oath.
He leaned back and regarded them.
"We now come to the reason why you are still alive, although you are men who kill your prisoners. When you were in command of this city, you gave nothing in return for that which you took. You brought these people none of the advances Europeans have made. Now, instead of taking, you are going to give."
"They did not pledge that in giving their paroles," Sandoval called out.
Don ignored him. He said, "You carpenters are going to teach the people European carpentry. You blacksmiths, how to work iron and other metals. You former miners are going to teach them to make superior wagons to the ones I have already tried to build. You former seamen are going to teach them to sail the four brigantines we have captured. You..."
Sandoval called out, a sne
er in his voice, "No, they are not, for this would make them traitors. It would enable the Indians to repulse the forces of the Captain-General more efficiently."
"That is exactly my purpose, friend," Don said grimly. He turned his eyes back to the others. "When the war is over, all who have cooperated, whether a captain, a gentleman soldier, or a footman in the ranks, will receive fifty pesos of gold and be allowed to return to his home in Europe if he swears never to take up arms against this land again."
Air sucked into the lungs of all but a few.
Sandoval said, "They would be traitors."
"But still alive." Don looked at him and laughed scorn, and brought up the argument he had used before. "If you had won the war, how many of these men would have received the deserts promised them? You, Sandoval, yes. And perhaps the other top captains, and most certainly Cortes who was to get a full fifth, as commander of the army. And the Emperor with his royal fifth. But the others here?" He laughed his scorn again. "All know the Captain-General by now. He is willing to betray anyone. If, after all that Motechzoma did for him, he was willing to send Alvarado to murder that innocent fool, how can you trust him?"
He turned his eyes back to the men. "If you wish, when the war is over, to remain here, you may. You are free to take wives and become valued members of the community. You remember your former lives in Spain and in Cuba, where you were, at least most of you, considered dregs, as soldiers are almost always so considered with contempt. Here you would be free and honored by the people to whom you will bring so much. But that is your decision to make. To stay or to take your gold and return home. I will let you sleep on it for the night. Tomorrow I will want your response. If you don't wish to cooperate, you will share the fate of Sandoval and receive no pay when finally you are released. Meanwhile, I suggest you elect a committee to represent you in your relationship with the chiefs of Tenochtitlan and with me."
Sandoval said, "As senior captain of the army present, I will represent us."
Don snorted at that. "There are no more captains. The men will elect your representatives. Have a committee of at least three by tomorrow. Now, do you have sufficient physicians to tend your wounds, or do you desire the assistance of the Indian medicine men? Their medical science is probably at least as well advanced as your own."
They wished to leave themselves in the hands of their own people and Don, through Cuitlahuac, saw that captured medical supplies and equipment were released to them.
He had his first volunteer immediately. Bernal Diaz approached him as he stood to leave, and said, "I accept your words about Cortes and the fact that we footmen would receive little in reward when all was through. However, I am not a carpenter or blacksmith, nor do I have any other art than that of war. Of what use can I be to you?"
Don sighed and said, "If you don't do it, somebody else will. On top of that, the end justifies the means, and the end you had in mind when you came here was to become wealthy."
Bernal frowned. "The end justifies the means?"
Don said wearily, "I have some others just as good. Such as: do unto others before they do unto you; and whatever grifter first thought up the idea of patriotism put ninety percent of the human race on the sucker list."
Bernal looked at him questioningly and growled, "Many of your words I do not understand, Don Fielding. But I accept. I will teach the use of the sword to your men."
The address to the Tlaxcalans was made by Cuauhtemoc and it went even easier than Don's to the Spanish. And they were as astonished as the latter had been. They had expected the sacrificial knife and there were few of them who had looked forward to pleasing the gods, particularly since most of their gods differed from those of Tenochtitlan.
The conception of parole was foreign to them and Cuauhtemoc had to explain an institution which had been unknown to him as well until this morning. They all accepted and Don suspected that they would turn out to be at least as honorable in keeping their sworn word as would be the Europeans.
When all was agreed, Don said to Cuitlahuac, "Take two of them. Feed them well. Give them as many presents of the type they would appreciate most as they can carry and turn them loose."
The war chief fixed his eyes on him in surprise. "And why would we do this, Don Fielding?"
"Because already we wish to begin to woo the Tlaxcalans away from Malintzin. We want them to know that their people are being taken care of here in Tenochtitlan. Each ten days that go by, we will release another two, with presents. And the Tlaxcalans will soon begin to realize that we are not their true enemies. On top of that, Cortes and the other Spanish cannot refrain from their arrogance and before long the Tlaxcalans should begin to weary of them."
"It shall be as you suggest."
After he returned to his room, he looked up Malinche to see if his orders had been followed and she had been given suitable quarters and arrangements made for her other needs.
She looked at him coldly. "I cannot honor a man who would allow his blood brother to go into war while he remained behind, though he is the largest man in the land and unwounded. The Captain-General I have turned my back upon, but at least he was no coward."
Don looked at her quizzically. "Did not the priests Olmedo and Juan Diaz remain behind when the army went into combat?"
Her head was high. "You are no priest."
Don sighed. "I am afraid I am more than a priest, if I wish to be or not." He turned and left her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
In the morning, he returned to the tecpan and had the Spanish assembled again. They had elected their committee. It consisted of Padre Juan Diaz, Avila, and Sandoval. So Sandoval had had his way in spite of what Don Fielding had said the day before; he was one of the army's representatives.
The priest acted as spokesman.
"Despite my words of entreaty and those of Don Gonzalo de Sandoval, approximately half of the men have decided to accept your offer and turn traitor to the Captain-General and their emperor."
Don spoke to the assembly. "All you who have decided to cooperate, step to this side of the enclosure. All who have decided not to, step to that side." He indicated with his hand.
When the division had been made, Don addressed those who had turned him down. "You who have not given your parole will be forced to remain confined and under guard. The rest of you have the freedom of the city; however, in view of the fact that you have the antagonism of the people and the fact that you are unarmed, I suggest that you not leave the tecpan. If unwilling to cooperate, you will be fed on hard rations, the simplest of Indian food. If any of you change your minds, contact me."
He had an inner feeling that most, if not all of them, would come over in time, especially when they noted how their collaborating comrades fared.
He went over to the other group, which was headed by Avila.
He said, "Divide yourselves by occupation and let each group quarter themselves together. Those men who are the single representatives of their trade quarter themselves alone. There are plenty of rooms here. Repair to it and take up those that apply to your trade, if any, and take them to your quarters."
Alonzo de Avila stepped forward. "Some of us have no trade. I was a gentleman farmer on my family's estates outside Avila. What can I do?"
Don said with satisfaction, "A great deal, my friend. You are a superlative horseman. You will teach our men to ride. You undoubtedly bred horses on your finca in Spain. You will also help supervise the breeding of the mares that we have captured."
Avila was taken aback. "Teach the Indians how to ride?"
"You can teach me, too. I've never been on a horse in my life. All of you gentlemen who know horses will participate in a concentrated effort to train our men not only to ride but to fight with Spanish weapons from horseback. We have thirty-three horses. Each horse will be assigned four students, and the horses will be pushed to whatever point is consistent with their health all day long. As soon as one group of students has satisfactorily learned all you can teach them,
you will be assigned to another group. I want every warrior between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five to learn horsemanship."
"What do you say, giant brother?" Cuauhtemoc asked. Don told him.
"But why so many? If there are but thirty-three of these horses, why do we need more than thirty-three braves to ride them?"
"Because we'll get more later," Don said grimly. "We'd better."
"Very well, I accept," Avila said.
"Traitor!" Sandoval called out sneeringly from the other side of the enclosure.
Avila turned, his face dark. "I shall demand satisfaction, Don Gonzalo." He started for the other.
Don grabbed the man's arm. "No, you don't. There'll be no dueling, no fighting between you men. For the time you are no longer gentlemen; you're working men." Under his breath he said in English, "The damndest bunch of proletarians ever assembled."
When they had all dispersed, he stood there and thought about it for a moment. First things first. But what was first? In actuality, he was getting a better start than he could have hoped for. To build the four brigantines, the Spanish had brought up tools from the coast and those that they didn't have had been made by the blacksmiths and other toolmakers right here in Tenochtitlan. Most of these had been rescued from the causeways and the lake, and divers were bringing in others continually as the recovery effort continued.
He sought out the blacksmiths and took them to the room in which the Spanish armor and that of the horses had been piled.
"Your job will be to melt this stuff down, or whatever you do to it, and to make tools for the other occupations, such as saws for the carpenters. I'm going to send some of the Indian metalworkers over to be your apprentices. Each of you will have four apprentices, and part of your job, the main part, will be to teach them everything you can. Do not abuse them. As soon as they've learned that, you'll get a new batch of apprentices."
He thought about it. "I'm going to start a school. We have four Indian boys who speak Spanish. They'll be the teachers and teach you all to speak Nahuatl. The school will be for three hours each morning and attendance will be compulsory for all Spaniards." He considered it some more. "We'll have other classes taught by Spaniards to instruct more students in this language. However, the most important thing is for you people to learn the Indian tongue as quickly as possible."
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