Conquistador: Hernan Cortes, King Montezuma, and the Last Stand of the Aztecs
Page 14
From the moment when the four brigantines were finished, they remained on the water throughout the spring of 1520, ranging widely and running daily reconnaissance across the whole five-lake system, recording valuable intelligence that the Spanish might draw on later.7 They saw beyond the banks, in the distance, lovely cultivated maize and bean fields, men planting and tending, and along the northeastern shores of Lake Xaltocán, men cutting troughs of earth to solidify into salt lumps.8 Cortés was keenly aware, having seen the deficiencies the Tlaxcalans suffered, of the politics and power of the salt trade.
Cortés used the success of the lake jaunts to push Montezuma even further, requesting that the emperor reveal to him the source of the seemingly endless supply of gold. As he had demonstrated on his numerous occasions of gift-giving, Montezuma and his people were much less enamored of gold than of jade and quetzal feathers, so the concession seemed tri-fling at the time—he told Cortés that the gold came from places far away, but he would certainly be willing to provide guides if Cortés wished to visit them. Excited by the prospect—not only of obtaining more gold but of continued military scouting of the region—Cortés happily agreed, immediately organizing three separate expeditions.
First Cortés summoned Gonzalo de Umbria, the former Velázquez conspirator who had been punished with the removal of his toes for his part in the attempted mutiny at Vera Cruz. By now he must have won back enough of Cortés’s favor to be entrusted with this mission (and his feet must have been sufficiently healed), for he subsequently led a group, accompanied by Montezuma’s handpicked noble-guides, to Zacatula (in present-day Oaxaca) to see the Mixtec mines and delicate gold work created there, which was thought to be unrivaled in the Americas. Cortés then called on Diego de Ordaz, who had recently distinguished himself (and atoned for his part in the clandestine attempt to hijack a ship and retreat to Cuba) by his daring ascent to the summit of Popocatépetl, to take ten Spaniards and follow the guides to the region of Coatzacualco (south of Vera Cruz on the Gulf of Mexico) in search of gold. They would also seek a harbor superior to the one where they had settled, one deeper and more protected. Last, Cortés asked Andrés de Tapia and Diego Pizarro to reconnoiter the Panuco area, on the northeast coast, for gold and to inspect the mines.9 These expeditions were expected to take more than a month, and, though they forayed into unknown and potentially hostile lands without the benefit of interpreters, they were expected to return with detailed maps and notes of their findings.
Somewhat surprisingly, even to the optimistic Cortés, all three expeditions succeeded in varying degrees. They passed through previously unknown (to the Spaniards, at least) jungles, mountains, and deserts, mapping their routes and findings and developing for Cortés a detailed picture of some of the lands beyond the Valley of Mexico. The Spaniards brought back many objects, gifts they received along their routes, even from tribes and chieftains hostile to the Aztecs. Umbria was the first to return to Tenochtitlán, bearing excellent news: the Mixtecs had plenty of viable gold mines, and the rivers themselves were filled with gold, which the Indians mined directly, panning for it in handheld troughs. Gold could be dug from the nearby mountainsides as well. Ordaz came back next, and though he failed to locate a harbor suitable for large, plunder-bearing Spanish ships, he brought both valuable booty and news. A certain chieftain from Coatzacualco, named Tochel, not only offered gifts but pledged immediate vassalage to Cortés and his king in Spain, for he had long held deep animosity toward the Aztecs, even naming a famous battleground “Cuylonemiquis, which in their language means ‘Where-the-Mexican-Swine-Were-Killed.’”10 Cortés found this news comforting, as he always sought to nurture allies. Last to return were Pizarro and Tapia, who also brought a good deal of gold and similar news of Aztec loathing in the Panuco region on a scale to rival that of the Totonacs and the Tlaxcalans.11
CACAMA, king of Texcoco, had been observing his uncle Montezuma’s behavior since his incarceration, and he despised the transformation. From the beginning, the pugilistic and short-tempered Cacama had argued for strong resistance against the Spaniards; he had urged the chiefs to fight Cortés and to refuse his entry to Tenochtitlán, though he ultimately bowed to the wishes of his more powerful uncle and the will of the other nobles. More than once, in private meetings at the Palace of Axayacatl, he had urged his uncle to try to escape, but to no avail. Now he had seen enough. From his point of view (which was significant and considerable, Texcoco being the second most powerful city-state in the Aztec Triple Alliance), the emperor Montezuma appeared to be giving away the empire. He hated seeing his uncle gallivanting on lake cruises with a man he perceived as an enemy of the state, and rumors had filtered out that the Spaniards had discovered Axayacatl’s treasures. That Montezuma had been bound in irons to witness the burning alive of his brethren, including his entrusted ambassador Qualpopoca, was unpardonable. In private Cacama began to plot with other regional lords who were also dismayed by Montezuma’s acquiescence to the Spaniards’ presence. They planned to overthrow the Spaniards and drive them from the city or, if necessary, kill them all.
The plot, however, was leaked. Evidently Cacama was overzealous in his enthusiasm, attempting to enlist too many supporters, and one of them revealed the plan to Montezuma who, rather than risk an uprising in his city, passed the intelligence on to Cortés. Montezuma then helped orchestrate countermeasures. He lured Cacama to a lakeshore villa under the pretense of a meeting, where he was arrested, chained, and conveyed back to Tenochtitlán. The lords of Coyoacán, Iztapalapa, and Tacuba were likewise duped and taken prisoner. At Montezuma’s urging, Cacama was stripped of his powers, and his brother Conacochtzin was installed as the new king of Texcoco, which proved beneficial to Cortés, for he obeyed all of Montezuma’s wishes, which were day by day becoming the wishes of Cortés.12
Cortés could see that, although he had thwarted Cacama’s rebellion, things were beginning to unravel around him. Cacama’s attempted coup indicated discontent and division among the neighboring Aztec city-states, and it could happen again. People had seen the king of Texcoco, and other important lords, hauled off in chains. The city, indeed the entire region, was flooded with anxiety. Cortés decided that he must do something to formally and publicly solidify his stranglehold on the city and on the whole Aztec nation. He requested that Montezuma convene all the leaders of the Aztec empire at the Palace of Axayacatl. (A few were already incarcerated there, still bound in irons.) Though Montezuma had given his word that he would pay tribute to Cortés’s king in Spain, Cortés now wanted to officially (and to his mind, legally) and ceremoniously subject the Aztec empire to Spanish vassalage. As always on such occasions, he made sure that one of his notaries was present, and he also brought Malinche, Aguilar, a young page boy named Orteguilla (whom Montezuma liked and trusted, for the boy was a quick learner, able to speak a few sentences to the emperor in his native Nahuatl), and a few of his captains.
The room fell quiet as Montezuma spoke. He reminded his lords of the prophecy, long passed down from their ancestors, “that men would come from the direction of the sunrise to rule these lands, and that the rule and domination of Mexico would then come to an end.”13 He paused as his voice quavered, then continued. He now believed in his heart, from consultations with the gods, that Cortés and these Spaniards were the prophesied men. “At present,” he went on, “our gods permit me to be held prisoner here, and this would not have happened, as I have often told you, except at the command of the great Huitzilopochtli.” Seeing the emotion overtaking the once-proud emperor, even the Spaniards assembled felt pity and sorrow at these words. Montezuma sighed deeply, choking back tears as he tried to finish his speech: “Remember that during the eighteen years that I have been your prince, you have always been most loyal to me, and I have enriched you, extending your lands, and given you power and wealth…What I command and implore you now is to give some voluntary contribution as a sign of vassalage.” With this last, he broke down and wept, as did many in the room.14
Hernán Cortés now had the relinquishment of the Aztec nation in writing.
ALMOST immediately Cortés began to exact tribute from the Aztec empire, explaining to Montezuma that, in particular, the Spanish king required as much gold as could possibly be gathered, from nearby and from far and wide. Montezuma sent collectors to the provinces with Spanish captains to bring in tributes, which began to pour in daily. Montezuma was amazingly (and from a modern viewpoint, incomprehensibly) cooperative about treasures housed within the city. He told Cortés that he knew the captain-general had discovered the secret treasure of his father, spoils from his reign, and he pledged to Cortés all the gold therein, which, as the Spaniards had seen, came in a dazzling array: necklaces, disks, bracelets, fans, toys, beads, and raw stones. All was melted into bars so that it could be properly weighed and appraised.15
Montezuma directed the Spaniards to his coveted House of Birds, part of his magical and exotic menagerie. Inside a hidden room there Andrés de Tapia and a handful of other Spaniards were led to more gold in various shapes and forms, including bars, platters, goblets, and jewelry, plus nearly indescribable featherwork, which they more or less ignored. Taking stock of the riches, Cortés was awestruck, marveling that the people of this land could “produce images in gold, silver, stone, and feathers of everything which exists in this domain and which, in the case of the silver and gold objects, bear such a remarkable likeness to the original that no jeweler anywhere else in the world could do any better.”16
Despite the grandeur of these golden specimens, they too were summarily melted into bars.
The haul was significant, but the division of spoils was not without controversy. Melted, stamped, and weighed, the gold and silver plunder appeared at first to be of inestimable value, enough to make the men rich. It appeared that they had, in a very real sense, discovered the fabled mountain of gold El Dorado. The captains and soldiers were finally going to get what they had marched and ridden and bled and even died for.
But Cortés, ever judicious, pointed out to the men, who stared in awe at the booty, that the predetermined, legally required division agenda had to be adhered to. The king must get his royal fifth, and Cortés garnered an equal fifth himself. Cortés pointed out that he required personal reimbursement for his initial investments in staking the venture, which sums were considerable—he had purchased most of the horses and the food and had invested, along with Velázquez, in the ships.
In addition, wages were owed to the professional sailors, navigators, captains, and priests, on down the line, including, they must not forget, the soldiers who had remained in Vera Cruz. What had first seemed an infinite treasure now amounted to a paltry-looking sum per soldier, perhaps as little as one hundred pesos each. Many scoffed, refusing to accept such slighting. The men took to gambling away their shares. Rumors circulated that Cortés had embezzled plunder from the palaces himself, and in the end Cortés was forced to appease the disgruntled troops with promises of more gold and even bribes, which some took in behind-the-back payoffs.*32 17
Hernán Cortés had taken control of Montezuma’s empire politically, in his mind legally, and with relatively constant tributes coming in, economically. But the niggling problem of religious differences remained. Feeling that the reins of power were firmly within his grasp, Cortés resolved that the time was right for a spiritual overthrow of the empire as well.
Human sacrifices had continued unabated since Cortés’s arrival. Now, once and for all, he would call for a cessation of the vile practice. Gathering his interpreters and a small raiding crew that included Andrés de Tapia, Cortés marched to the Great Temple, climbed the sheer steps, and ascended the broad platform. Cortés and his men brandished their swords and sliced through the drapery entrance to the sanctuary, where Cortés once again came face to face with the invidious blood-drenched demon idols. The priests charged with the idols’ protection stood in unarmed defiance as Cortés explained what he was about to do—destroy their evil idols and replace them with statues of Jesus and the Virgin Mary. The priests simply laughed, incredulous. These gods ruled the empire, and the populace of Tenochtitlán would most certainly die for them, as some did daily through sacrifice. Desecration of these idols would cause chaos and bloodshed, the likes of which the Spaniards could not imagine. The priests pointed to some alarmed citizens below who, having heard the commotion at the Great Temple, were beginning to organize a defense.
Quickly Cortés sent one of his men to shore up the guard around Montezuma and bring, as soon as possible, a support team of at least thirty more men. Meanwhile he took matters into his own hands. He scaled one of the idols and attempted to tear the golden eyes from it, and he began to strike at the monstrous stone figures.18
Montezuma had learned of the proceedings from informants, before his guard was tightened, and through a fleet-footed messenger convinced Cortés to cease the destruction until he could arrive on the scene. Cortés consented, and the two met once again atop the highest pyramid in Tenochtitlán. Montezuma, who believed in and prayed to more than two hundred gods, decided to make room for one more. He diplomatically suggested a compromise: Cortés could erect his cross and idols on one side of the great platform, and leave the Aztec idols alone. They could share the area. That would be all right. Cortés, whose inflamed passions seem to have calmed during his wait for Montezuma, pondered this conciliation, no doubt eyeing keenly the gathering swarm below. He agreed to the deal, even as he dismissed the Aztec idols as merely stone, of no real consequence. But he had Montezuma promise to allow the thorough cleansing and whitewashing of the shrines, and he demanded an immediate end to human sacrifices there. These strange concessions were made by both sides, in a foreshadowing of the religious and cultural blending that would eventually become a hallmark of a new Mexico.19
A church was constructed on top of the great pyramid, and when it was completed, Father Olmedo said mass before Cortés and a select group of his men.
Though a crisis had been averted and the populace was apparently assuaged, shortly afterward Cortés received disconcerting intelligence, first from his page Orteguilla, then from Malinche. Both had overheard (the quick-witted page now capable of some translation) Montezuma, in consultation with his military advisers, talk of insurgency. Montezuma himself came to Cortés and encouraged him to round up his troops and leave as soon as possible, lest they be overwhelmed.*33 20
Cortés tended to agree with the emperor, but he had a problem. He could leave, but once he got to the coast, he had no ships with which to sail back to the Indies or anywhere else. He needed time. Montezuma said if that was the case, he should hurry. Cortés sent his fleetest messengers on an emergency run to the coast, instructing carpenters there to help Martín López build three ships to sail as soon as possible back to Cuba. They would need more men to pull off this conquest.
When Cortés’s messengers returned, they brought the worst possible news. Eighteen warships were anchored off the coast at Vera Cruz, their Spanish flags flapping in the gulf winds, but they weren’t reinforcements. Cortés understood that it could mean only one thing—Diego Velázquez had sent an armada after him.21
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Spaniard Versus Spaniard
HERNÁN CORTÉS COULD FEEL HIS PULSE QUICKEN. He thought about his former patron Diego Velázquez, choleric and at times irrational, their past disagreements, and how Velázquez had imprisoned him—and even threatened to hang him. True, Cortés had been less than comm
unicative with Velázquez, but the governor of Cuba was generally forgiving, so something else must have set him off. But what? Cortés could not be sure, as he considered his next move.
What Cortés did not know was that in late July 1519, nine months before, a direct order of his had been ignored—or at least had been interpreted liberally. When Cortés had sent the treasure ship to Spain, with its immense wealth and the legal papers concerning the founding of Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz, as well as letters to the king, he had explicitly instructed his pilot Alaminos to navigate directly to Spain, without making any unnecessary stops. He had both practical and political reasons for this order. Piracy on the high seas was a very real threat, so the faster the journey the better. And being spotted in the Indies was undesirable, as it might raise suspicions regarding Cortés’s actions and exploits on the Mexican mainland.
Once in Spain, the conquistadors Cortés had chosen—Francisco de Montejo and Alonso Hernández Puertocarrero—were supposed to act as Cortés’s representatives or procuradores. But once they set out on the Santa María de la Concepción, Cortés’s prized flagship, Montejo convinced Alaminos to alter their proposed course and stop for a short period in Cuba so that he could tidy up some business affairs at one of his properties in a place called Mariel. Montejo reasoned that the stop was on their way, and they could load up on supplies there. Puertocarrero, suffering lingering effects of coastal vómito, was easy to sway, for he could use a few days ashore before the long voyage. So they docked at Mariel. In port, one of Montejo’s servants, a man named Francisco Pérez, while assisting with provisioning the ship with cassava, water, and swine, happened to spot some of the treasure in the ship’s holds, and his eyes grew as large as the great gold disks upon which he gazed.