by Buddy Levy
CHAPTER FIVE
Into the Mountains
CORTÉS NOW SET ABOUT MAKING PREPARATIONS for an inland march, assaying his available troops and weaponry. He would need to leave some soldiers in Villa Rica to guard the fortress and continue working on the buildings. The weak, wounded, and sick would remain to recuperate, given the likely difficulty of the mountains, which he could see in the distance. As many as 150 would stay behind, under the command of Juan de Escalante, who was entrusted to keep his men fit and ready, to maintain convivial relations with the coastal Indians, and to survey the gulf waters for any maritime activity, friendly or hostile.
The journey up and over the mountains promised to be arduous, and Cortés requested assistance from the Cempoalan leaders. They agreed to provide him with fifty experienced warriors and, more important, a few hundred porters to help carry gear and weaponry, including the heavy falconets, which fired three-pound balls or even smooth, round stones if munitions fell short. Most of the larger cannons, the lombards, were too heavy to portage even with the addition of native porters and the remaining one hundred or so Cuban servants, so the bulk of them were left behind to shore up the fortress at Vera Cruz. There they could be wall-mounted and aimed from fixed positions. To assist the porters and speed travel, Cortés commissioned one of his carpenters to construct a few wheeled wooden carts that could be heavily loaded and pulled. These tools of war were the first wheeled vehicles ever used in Mesoamerica.*13 1
Cortés rode at the head of a fifteen-horse cavalry, all properly armed for battle, and between three and four hundred Spanish troops, including about forty to fifty excellent crossbowmen and twenty to thirty harquebusiers. All the soldiers were instructed to carry their own halberds, shields, lances, and swords and to wear the best armor they had at all times, even to sleep in it so that they would be prepared for combat at any time, day or night. The steel body armor and helmets they had brought from their homeland and the Caribbean were unmercifully heavy and cumbersome, poorly suited for the sultry tropics. Full armor radiated extreme heat approaching two hundred degrees, and quite soon Cortés and his men adopted some of the lighter, more breathable quilted cotton armor worn by the native warriors.2 Cortés and some of his men also brought along a number of war dogs, well-trained mastiffs and greyhounds that would fight viciously alongside their Spanish masters.3
On August 16, 1519, Cortés assembled his troops in rank and file and spoke to them above the huff and snort of the horses and snarling hounds. They were a “holy company” of men about to engage in their own crusade, he said. They must “conquer the land or die,” but belief in their savior would carry them to victory, as there was no option to turn back. “This assurance must be our stay,” he hollered, “for every other refuge is now cut off, but that afforded by the Providence of God, and your own stout hearts!”4 The men cheered, buoyed by the rousing speech, and the train of warriors and bearers and beasts lurched forward into the unknown.
They marched westward, in the direction of Jalapa. Fit and knowledgeable Totonac scouts ran ahead on reconnaissance forays, returning periodically to report to Cortés the lay of the land and any hostile movements among the native populations. The conquistadors and their allies trekked through thick forests populated by ocelots and jaguars, into surreal and pungent stands of dense cacao and luscious vanilla, and across cultivated fields of maize and maguey plants and nopal cactus.5 From high above them in the crowded jungle canopy came the shrill, cacophonous caw of parrots and macaws and the eerie buzz of iridescent insects unlike anything they had ever encountered. The route rose gradually into the Cordilleras, climbing up and up to the great Mexican tableland plateau, then up unmercifully steep trails. The air thinned and cooled as they rose to four thousand feet. To the southwest Cortés and his men stared in wonder at the gigantic, snowcapped dome of Orizaba, soaring nearly nineteen thousand feet above sea level, over twice as high as any mountain in their native Spain. Called “Star-Mountain” by the Mexicans, perhaps because of its fiery eruptions, it is the highest peak in Mexico, visible from a hundred miles off, and as such it engenders awe and reverence.6 Temperatures plummeted as the conquistadors ascended. The poorly clad Cempoalan bearers shivered against the bitter cold, borrowing extra clothes and blankets from the Spaniards. Some fell gravely ill. After two days of forced marching on trails choked with thorny vines and grandillas, or passion flowers, they reached the town of Jalapa, at the far reaches of the Totonac boundaries.7 There they rested for the night, being well treated, then kept on.
The route climbed again, up and over six thousand feet, passing through Coatepec, then on to Xicochilmaco, a walled fortress village and Aztec settlement. The Spaniards passed through unmolested and continued the long, cold slog, day and night, ascending to a steep and mountainous pass that Cortés named Puerto del Nombre de Dios (now called Bishop’s Pass). Harsh winds hurtled down the narrow canyon, followed by a severe mountain storm that pounded Cortés and his men with rain and sleet and biting pellets of hail, soaking them to the skin. Three of the Cuban porters perished from exposure in the high mountains of the Cofre de Perote.
The train of conquistadors and bearers pushed on, descending now from the rugged highlands onto a vast and desolate plain, a dry and barren sun-pocked pan. They swung north in the direction of the Río Apulco, skirting a massive salt lake, and marched for three days across the seemingly interminable plain, depleting all their stores of food and, worse, all their fresh water. Men, parched to delirium, knelt and sucked the water from brackish lagoons, but the salinity was so high it only made them thirstier, and some grew sick and vomited as they staggered along. Finally, after nearly a week of constant marching, they climbed again, as the austere maguey desert yielded to rough, flinty ridges. The narrow trails led Cortés and his ragged men to the town of Xocotlán (now called Zautla).8
Exhausted, scorched, and ravenous with thirst, the Spaniards were now dangerously vulnerable, but by good fortune Olintetl, the chief of Xocotlán (and reportedly even fatter than the Cempoalan ruler), received them kindly, providing shelter, warmth, and food for Cortés and his men. Once rested and fed, Cortés made an inspection of the town, which was by far the largest they had passed through since leaving the coast and Cempoala, with a population of perhaps twenty thousand. In the town square Cortés discovered a giant skull rack (or tzompantli) displaying thousands of human skulls arranged in neat rows, beside which were great piles of thighbones and arm bones bleached white and luminous in the sun. Most shocking and repugnant to Cortés were the fifty or so recently sacrificed corpses, disemboweled and bathed in blood, and a large statue of the war god Huitzilopochi bespattered and still dripping with the lifeblood of these sacrificial offerings.
Cortés could not have understood that these skulls and corpses were the aftermath and remnants of complex and elaborate seasonal religious rituals that the native inhabitants considered essential, even vital to every aspect of their survival. Such sacrifices, they believed, ensured the daily rising of the sun. War captives were ceremonially led to high altars and sacrificed by five priests who placed each victim on his back on a special stone that depicted the sun. One priest held down the right arm, another the left, and two more priests splayed and pressed down the legs. A final priest clamped a large collar around the prisoner’s neck while the village chief hoisted an obsidian blade high, then plunged it into the victim’s chest. Opening the cavity, he would then remove the still-beating heart with his hands and lift it in a highly stylized and ceremonial offering. The steam from the heart was believed to carry a special message to the sun. The skull racks, made from thousands of sacrifice victims, served as constant reminders of their religion’s immense power. Human ritual sacrifice also served to bring rain and ensure harvest, as well as fertility, enacted in the Feasts of the Flaying of Men, the Festival of Toxcatl, and the New Fire Ceremony.9
Cortés brought Malinche forward and through her asked Olintetl if he was a vassal of Montezuma. Olintetl waited a long time befo
re answering, appearing both amused and amazed at the question. “Who is there that is not a vassal to Montezuma?”10 was his curt and quizzical reply. Cortés assured Olintetl that he most certainly was not, and that he and his men served an emperor of their own in a far-off land to the east who had vassals and kingdoms to equal or surpass those of Montezuma. Not to be outdone, Olintetl launched into a cataloguing of Montezuma’s empire, which he claimed spanned some thirty kingdoms of more than 100,000 warriors each. Cortés and his captains listened intently, sensing hyperbole in the claims but circumspect enough to be impressed and a little intimidated. What if the claims were true? Most interesting were Olintetl’s detailed descriptions of the capital city Tenochtitlán, which he said was an impenetrable fortress on a great lake, accessible only by three major causeways containing removable bridges. When these were removed, no one could enter or leave the city except by canoe. The city’s beauty was indescribable, Olintetl said, adding that the reach and power of Montezuma’s empire was so great that over the years he had amassed riches of gold and silver beyond imagining, much of it won in his conquests over neighboring city-states.11
This last bit of information certainly piqued Cortés’s interest, and he inquired whether Olintetl himself possessed any gold, as he wished to obtain samples to bring back to his emperor in their native land of Spain. Olintetl nodded that yes, he had some gold, but was unauthorized to give any to the Spaniards without the direct permission of Montezuma. Cortés, miffed by the rebuke, replied that soon enough he would be getting gold directly from Montezuma, whom he was on his way to visit. Still disgusted by the evidence of very recent human sacrifice, Cortés launched into his patented catechism on the virtues of Christianity and the evils of false worship, going so far as to suggest erecting a cross at the main prayer house, but Father Olmedo counseled the captain-general otherwise, suggesting that the act might provoke hostilities. Cortés took his advice and refrained.
Cortés remained in Xocotlán for four days; his troops were given meager supplies of food but enough to subsist on. The Spaniards were impressed by the town’s organization, noting the carefully planted and tended agriculture: rows of giant cactus, and great plantations of maguey, their wide green leaves striped with yellow and their bright yellow flowers blooming on lengthy stems. The paddles of the nopal cactus, they learned, were stripped of their spines and eaten, and the juice from within the maguey plant was fermented into an alcoholic drink called octli (now called pulque and still consumed in Mexico today). The Spaniards learned, too, that the towns had laws against public drunkenness.12 While they rested, the Spaniards were visited by fascinated townspeople curious to see their horses, dogs, and strange metal weaponry. Some onlookers stared warily from a distance, then ran away. The Spaniards bragged that their horses could run men down from great distances; their weapons could level entire armies from leagues away. Many of these highlanders assumed the conquistadors and their horses to be gods, and the Spaniards said nothing to contradict the belief. They even encouraged the local belief that their dogs were vicious killers and that they could unleash either lions or tigers at will.13
Before departing, Cortés sent four Cempoalan chiefs ahead toward Tlaxcala. They carried letters (and were to convey the message verbally as well, since the Spanish-language letters were a formality and, at any rate, would not have been understood) stating that the Spaniards were coming soon, in peace, hoping to forge an alliance. The four chiefs also took some gifts: Spanish hats, a crossbow, and a sword—these last symbols of power. Cortés then asked Olintetl which route he ought to take to reach the Aztec capital. The chief recommended going through the town of Cholula, a city and shrine sacred to its former inhabitant, Quetzalcoatl. Some of the Cempoalans traveling with Cortés counseled against this choice, arguing that not only was the route longer, but Cholula was a heavily fortified Aztec outpost, and additionally the Cholulans were not to be trusted. By contrast Tlaxcala, on an alternate route, had never been conquered by Montezuma, and it was the Tlaxcalans’ allegiance that Cortés sought. Plus, the route through Tlaxcala was shorter. Cortés pondered the advice as he readied to leave.
Olintetl came personally to see off Cortés and his troops, who were lined in tight formation. He offered a few gifts to Cortés—some cloth, a few lizards and small pendants of gold, some necklaces, and, most useful, four women to grind the local maize for bread—and bade the strangers farewell.14
The rested army, with Cortés at the head, moved out, snaking through the long valley of the Río Apulco, through a large town called Iztaquimaxtitlán. There they were also treated with guarded friendliness, apparently at the behest of Montezuma, whose spies and messengers roamed far and wide and reported the Spaniards’ precise movements and locations. Here Cortés waited briefly for any response from his Cempoalan messengers, but there was no sign of them, so he pressed forward.
Unknown to Cortés, his native messengers had successfully reached the capital of Tlaxcala and had presented the gifts, letters, and message to the nobles there; but they had been immediately imprisoned, their release pending an inquiry by a high council. Through their own messengers and spies, the Tlaxcalans had discovered that already, along his route, Cortés had conducted several meetings with Aztec officials, and these dealings between the Spaniards and their arch-enemies made them nervous. They were especially dubious of any claims of peace and friendship, suspecting that the Spaniards might well have formed an allegiance with the Aztecs and were going to attack them. The Tlaxcalan nobles agreed that rather than be passive, they should be proactive. They would allow the Spaniards to enter their borders, then ambush them when the time was right. Some of the guards are reported to have taunted and threatened the imprisoned Cempoalans, saying, “Now we are going to kill those whom you call teules and eat their flesh. Then we shall see whether they are as brave as you proclaim. And we shall eat your flesh, too, since you come here with treasons and lies from that traitor Montezuma.”15
Leaving the Zautla Valley, Cortés determined to take the shorter route toward Tlaxcala. After about ten miles he and his force approached a massive stone wall nearly ten feet high and twenty feet thick, which stretched a remarkable five miles across the valley. They halted and warily considered its elaborate construction, complete with defensive positions for archers and spear-throwers. They had reached the formal border of Tlaxcala, the great battlement constructed to ward off Aztec attacks. Cortés’s men debated the virtues of entering the potentially hostile Tlaxcalan territory, especially since the messengers had failed to return. The fiercely independent Tlaxcalans might view their entrance as aggressive. But the tremendous fortification’s single opening appeared unmanned, and deciding on action over discussion, Cortés urged his men through, the Spanish flag flapping from the staff of the standard-bearer.16 Frozen winds howled down the valley flanks as the men rode and soldiers marched at the ready.
Cortés rode at the head of the vanguard, flanked by cavalry. As they reached the foothills of some mountains, he spotted a small group of fifteen Indians, armed for battle with two-handed obsidian swords, shields, and feather headdresses; seeing horses for the first time in their lives,*14 the Indians fled, scattering for the low hills. These were Otomi scouts, allies of the Tlaxcalans charged with monitoring the Tlaxcalan borderlands. Cortés pursued them at a canter, making hand signals in an attempt to convey that they came with peaceful intentions, but the presence of the large, loud, snorting animals only increased the Otomis’ retreat.
Cortés sent horsemen to capture them, but the Otomis shrieked and wailed, and when the speedy Spanish horses overtook them, they turned and fought viciously, showing utter disregard for the charging animals, slashing at their necks and throats with their two-handed swords. One organized group of warriors unseated two riders and impaled their horses with spears, then beat them to the ground with stone-studded clubs. Chanting, they dragged the horses off, decapitated and dismembered them, and eventually (Cortés would later discover) distributed the remains
of the horses among their villages in defiant triumph, offering the iron horseshoes up to their gods.17
Cortés dispatched infantry divisions, who quickly overwhelmed the remaining tenacious fighters, killing fifteen. Ten Spaniards had been seriously injured, and one of the cavalrymen died later from his wounds. Then, Cortés and his men saw, emerging from behind a rise, a moving throng of Tlaxcalan warriors numbering in the thousands, their faces painted brightly to signify their martial honors and accomplishments and ranks. Those who had previously taken captives wore red and yellow. Warriors acknowledged for their courage and valor wore long black stripes on their faces; still others—“shorn ones”—wore shaved heads painted half blue and half red.18 They came forward in organized ranks, which Cortés had not seen in Indians before. They were clearly a battle-honed fighting force, their shields and swords and helmets and crests bearing colorful insignia depicting ancient rulers, war gods, and even glorious battles of the past. Their insignia indicated rank and were taken so seriously that wearing insignia to which one was not entitled was punishable by death.19 As the Tlaxcalans neared, they fired arrows and spears and piercing darts, hurled from special throwers called atlatls, and these missiles rained down on the Spaniards, who held their shields above them in defense. Under siege, Cortés called forth artillery and musketeers and crossbowmen, and his men assembled in offensive positions. The Tlaxcalans sent a group of warriors charging forward, and seeing the great numbers advancing and the waves coming behind in support, many of the Spanish soldiers feared for their lives. But by now the rest of the cavalry had also arrived, and after a brief but intense battle, the Tlaxcalans retreated, hauling their dozens of dead with them.20
