by Buddy Levy
He was asked to keep this knowledge to himself, but as soon as Montejo and Puertocarrero boarded the flagship once more and sailed for Spain, Pérez spoke with Velázquez in Santiago. The ship carried so much gold, he said tantalizingly, that it required no other ballast! Pérez also intimated what he had heard about the new colony Cortés had founded on the coast. Velázquez now had confirmation that the new-found lands were loaded with precious metals and that his long-held suspicions about the rebellious Cortés had been well founded.
Velázquez launched two fast ships to overtake the Santa María, but pilot Alaminos had already made it to the powerful Gulf Stream and was gone. When Velázquez’s chase ships returned empty-handed, he decided to send a military force to capture or kill Cortés—whichever was most convenient—and reestablish the area under his control. The man he chose for the duty was his friend and trusted lieutenant Pánfilo de Narváez, who had helped him conquer Cuba in the first place, with Cortés under him.
Narváez was a large, muscular, formidable man, ruddy and red-bearded, whose booming voice was “very deep and hoarse as if it came from a vault.”1 He had gained valuable military experience in his exploits on behalf of Velázquez in Cuba, and before that in Hispaniola, earning not only Velázquez’s trust but also power and personal wealth in the form of lands and servants to work those lands. Confident, even haughty, he appeared a good choice to chase down the rogue conquistador Cortés.
But the Narváez expeditionary force would not be traveling without some oversight. Back on Hispaniola, the Royal Audience of Santo Domingo (audiencia), a commission that looked after concerns of the crown, caught wind of Velázquez’s punitive mission and sent a delegate to ensure that Narváez followed strict protocol—and even to put a stop to his mission if necessary, should he act outside their purview. Above all, the Audience wanted to ensure that bloodshed between Spaniards was avoided. It sent Lucás Vázquez de Ayllón, a legal-minded and devoted Spaniard who had arrived in Hispaniola in 1502 and had served in judicial capacities since that time. The arrogant Narváez chafed at having an official looking over his shoulder, but for the moment he could do nothing about it. So with financial backing from Velázquez, Narváez assembled a powerful fleet containing nineteen ships,*34 more than eight hundred soldiers (twice the size of Cortés’s original force), twenty cannons, eighty harquebusiers, 120 crossbowmen, and eighty cavalry (over four times as many horses as Cortés had brought). This force set out for Vera Cruz on March 5, 1520.2
BACK in the capital of Mexico, the curious captor-captive relationship between Cortés and Montezuma—sometimes convivial, sometimes contentious, always mysterious—was about to become irreparably strained. Four days after Cortés learned that Spanish ships had arrived on the coast, he and Montezuma were in one of their daily meetings when the emperor, whose mood seemed curiously exuberant given his circumstances, produced pictographs showing eighteen ships, drawn by spies and sent to him by his fastest runners. It turned out that Montezuma had known about these ships since the day of their arrival. Cortés felt slighted and a little suspicious. Why, he asked, had Montezuma chosen to withhold this vital information from him? Montezuma responded (rather coyly and disingenuously) that he had needed to ascertain through messengers (as he had done with the arrival of Cortés) the identity and intentions of the visitors. Montezuma was pleased, he said, because these ships could provide Cortés and his men with a way home. The pictures drawn suggested there were plenty of ships for the job. Montezuma conveniently failed to mention to Cortés that he had been exchanging political correspondence with Narváez.
Cortés confirmed, from his own messengers, that these ships were under the aegis of Velázquez and were captained by his old acquaintance Pánfilo de Narváez. Cortés knew what Montezuma did not: that he was swimming in dangerous political waters and would need to deal immediately with this threat to his effort to secure the empire. Angered with Montezuma for withholding the information, Cortés left to discuss matters with his captains-in-arms. The meeting was brief and heated. The Spaniards universally agreed that, though the mission was dangerous, Cortés should strike out for the coast and confront Narváez personally, to discover his intentions and, if necessary, fight for what they had already earned through their blood and sacrifice. Cortés sealed the meeting with a threat: “Death to him and anyone who argues about the matter.”3
As Cortés always did when he met a crisis, he immediately launched into action. Though he hated to do it, he knew that he must divide his already dispersed troops. Pedro de Alvarado and 120 Spaniards would remain in Tenochtitlán to maintain guard over Montezuma and over the plunder they had garnered. Cortés feared it was too small a force, but with the support of the Tlaxcalans, he hoped for the best.
Cortés then organized a small but elite force of eighty soldiers to join 150 more Spaniards under Captain Velázquez de León (who remained out on military reconnaissance and gold-finding missions) at Cholula. He hoped to use diplomacy if possible, and to that end he dispatched Father Olmedo to the coast, accompanied by guides, to discover what he could about the nature and intentions of the armada. But Cortés had already determined that he would fight his own countrymen if forced to.
For his part, Narváez had disembarked on the coast and was learning as much as he could about the current situation in the region, both among the native population and with respect to Cortés. He soon stumbled on what appeared to be good fortune: three Spaniards, members of the recent Diego Pizarro scouting expedition who remained in the area. They were friendly to Narváez, homesick and disenchanted with their long and dangerous service under Cortés. Opening up to Narváez (especially when their tongues were loosened with copious Spanish wine and fresh food), they gave him much intelligence. They told him about the fort and township at Vera Cruz and about their alliance with Cempoala, and they regaled him with tales of Tenochtitlán. Narváez sensed their dissatisfaction and through promises was able to sway them to come over to his side. Having been for a time in the region, the three spoke crude but serviceable Nahuatl, enough to provide rudimentary translation between Narváez and the local population.4
Rather than attempt to overthrow Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz by force, Narváez sent three diplomats—a notary, a priest, and a soldier (named repectively Vergara, Guevara, and Amaya)—to speak to whoever was in command there and report the arrival of the Narváez expedition in the territory. Cortés, they were to explain, was a traitor with no legal claims to the settlement, and the garrison and soldiers were to join forces with Narváez, lest they be branded traitors to Spain and the crown as well. When the three men arrived, they were directed to Captain Gonzalo de Sandoval, whom Cortés had entrusted to run affairs there. Deeply loyal to his commander, Sandoval listened carefully to the claims and warrants of the three men, which they read from documents. But as soon as he heard Cortés called a traitor, he held up his hand and said that was enough. Sandoval motioned to his soldiers, who hurled strong woven nets over Narváez’s ambassadors. Incensed, Sandoval ordered his men to enlist Totonac porters to physically haul the men over the mountains and deposit them at the feet of Hernán Cortés. They could read whatever warrants they might have to him personally and see how well they fared. He wrote a letter to Cortés apprising him of the tenuous situation on the coast and of Narváez’s apparent intention to take over their town and fort. The Totonac porters, shouldering the writhing human bundles, hurried toward Tenochtitlán, led by Pedro de Solis.5
Cortés was still making preparations to depart and organizing his men and provisions when he learned of Solis’s imminent arrival. He sent a small welcoming committee, including horses, to greet the party on the road. The prisoners were released from their nets and allowed to ride into the capital in style, for Cortés had shrewdly decided to placate them by treating them with the utmost dignity and politeness. Riding in, the men were as dazzled as Cortés had been by the City of Dreams. Cortés fed and housed them with great fanfare, wining and dining them and even personally
giving them a tour of the magnificent city. He showed them the treasures he had appropriated and plied them with personal riches and enough extra to distribute among Narváez’s more malleable soldiers upon their safe return to the coast, which he guaranteed in just a few days. Immediately, and rather easily, Cortés had bought their allegiance. He took care to include precious gifts for the judge Vázquez de Ayllón, about whom he had just learned.6
Cortés’s manipulations had worked: the three Narváez men were now effectively his, and they faithfully followed their new commander’s instructions. Cortés sent them away from Tenochtitlán well fed and flush with gold, which they carried on horseback, their return journey much more comfortable and dignified than had been their initial conveyance on the backs of bearers. With Narváez they were tight-lipped, telling him only that they had been imprisoned and waylaid when they had attempted to read the documents. Cortés, a decent Christian, had treated them very well, they said. They remained silent on the matter of the gold they had received, fearing its confiscation, but as instructed they delivered the gifts to Ayllón and began to clandestinely filter through the camp, telling Narváez’s most impressionable soldiers about the immense wealth they had seen in Cortés’s possession and how he had promised rich compensation for any soldiers willing to commit to his cause.
Ayllón remained dedicated to finding a peaceful resolution between Narváez and Cortés, but the “gift” certainly seemed to incline him in Cortés’s favor. He approached Narváez, who was already irritable, and suggested that peace be sought between the rival factions. Narváez had resented Ayllón’s imposed presence from the outset and was in no mood to hear his suggestions. He angrily had the upstart and meddling judge bound, placed on a ship, and sent back to Cuba, where he belonged. During the voyage Ayllón used his considerable powers of persuasion, telling the captain that, should he continue the course for Cuba, he would suffer death by hanging along with all his shipmates. The captain apparently preferred the potential future wrath of Narváez to swinging from a rope, so he altered his course, as directed by Ayllón, to Santo Domingo, Hispaniola, where Ayllón eventually argued in favor of Hernán Cortés before the Royal Audience, the report of which proceedings was later sent to Spain.7
Hernán Cortés was always thorough, especially concerning legal matters. Once the preparations among his elite corps of cavalry and foot soldiers were nearly complete, he thought it prudent to send a personal envoy to the coast, and for this important assignment he settled on Father Olmedo, hoping that a priest, an agent of God, might receive a fair audience. Cortés wrote a letter to Narváez expressing an interest in proceeding peaceably toward mutual goals and arguing for a collaboration that would quite probably benefit them both. He would gladly join forces with Narváez, he said, and share all the wealth that had so far been obtained, but one small detail, one minor sticking point, stood in the way: Narváez must produce legal documents from the crown in Spain denying or in some way overriding the foundation of Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz. If he could do so, Cortés (who was gambling that he could not) wrote slyly, and boldly, that he would be happy to submit to Narváez and, by extension, to Velázquez. But if Narváez did not possess such a writ, well then, the two were at something of an impasse; in fact, lacking such written authority, Narváez would have to depart, for he was trespassing. Cortés also entrusted Father Olmedo to deliver a personal letter to his old friend (and one of the original financiers of Cortés’s expedition) Andrés de Duero, who was currently with Narváez. The letter to Duero came with a hefty portion of gold, and Olmedo was instructed to give yet more gold to certain of Narváez’s captains as well.8
While Cortés readied to depart Tenochtitlán, Narváez was already busy moving into Cempoala. Sandoval’s rebuke at Villa Rica had caused him to consider another approach to settling in the region, and the city of Cempoala seemed a feasible home, especially when Narváez learned that a certain obese chief in that city was friendly, in general, to the Spaniards. It was Tlacochcalcatl, the “fat chief,” Cortés’s original ally in the Totonac region. Through a show of military force, Narváez bullied Tlacochcalcatl into allowing him to move his forces into the city. He set up defenses right in the religious center, appropriating the main pyramid for his base of operations and establishing his own quarters on its summit. He put cannons at the steps around the perimeter, and evicted Cempoalans from their homes to accommodate his captains and soldiers.9
The fickle and easily duped “fat chief” bought into Narváez’s claim that Cortés was defying the laws of his own king in Spain and that Narváez was the rightful leader to settle here. But he realized his mistake when Narváez ordered his men to pilfer the village, taking women and girls for his men and all the gold gifts that Cortés had sent with the Cempoalan bearers when they returned. Only after it was too late did Tlacochcalcatl realize that this new Spaniard whom he now harbored was a much greater threat to his people’s security than Cortés.
Father Olmedo arrived and delivered Cortés’s letter to Narváez, who interpreted Cortés’s words as aggressive, even threatening. He was about to place Father Olmedo in irons on general principle, but the cooler head of Andrés de Duero prevailed, and Olmedo was allowed to move about freely. In hindsight, Narváez might have preferred to have acted on his passion, because Olmedo gained private audiences with some of Narváez’s captains and swayed them toward the side of Cortés.
IN the middle of May 1520, as the machinations between Cortés and Narváez were in full swing and the two had failed to reach any sort of agreement, Cortés rode out from the capital. Montezuma accompanied him and his small force as far as the causeway, where he descended from his litter and bade his captor farewell. Montezuma had offered him the services of many thousands of warriors and bearers, but Cortés rather arrogantly declined, saying he needed only the assistance of his God. The two even embraced, an odd display but one that suggested a mutual, if guarded, respect.10 For half a year now the two had effectively cogoverned the Aztec empire. And now both men were barely hanging on to power. Montezuma’s empire was on the precipice of civil rebellion, his people fearful, his lords and priests seriously questioning his leadership. Cortés, for his part, was being pursued by his own countrymen and he intended to confront, and perhaps kill, his own brethren—a notion both distasteful and unprecedented in the New World. As Cortés mounted his horse and spurred it toward the east, both he and the emperor Montezuma stared into a clouded and uncertain future.
CORTÉS marched down the southern causeway, out of the city, and back up through the mountains the way he had originally come, his small but select force supported by a number of Tlaxcalans. They passed between the two great volcanoes Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl, once again amazed by their enormity and power. Fit and rested, they moved fast and arrived soon in Cholula, where they waited to rendezvous with more Spanish troops—some 250 soldiers under the command of Velázquez de León and Rodrigo Rangel. When they arrived, Cortés mustered his force of about 350 and struck out across the hard plateau for Tlaxcala. He also dispatched a messenger to Sandoval on the coast, saying that Cortés was en route and wished to meet up with him and the finest troops from the garrison at Tlaxcala.
Outside the city of Tlaxcala Cortés came upon Father Olmedo and his guides returning from Narváez’s camp. Cortés gleaned as much intelligence as he could from the priest, who described Narváez’s military positions and the number and deployment of his men. The general mood and attitude among the soldiers, Cortés was delighted to discover, was not entirely unified. Father Olmedo said that he had distributed bribe-gold to certain captains and that some seemed to have been won over. But then Father Olmedo turned to a most unsettling topic. Montezuma had conducted surreptitious communications with Narváez, Olmedo said, the import of which went beyond polite gift-giving. They had actually discussed Cortés in some detail, and Montezuma seemed even to have offered to aid Narváez and provide support for his army, in exchange for which Narváez was to free Montezuma and
arrest or kill Cortés.11 This news enraged the captain-general, who was now hell-bent on dispatching the interloper Narváez immediately. He would deal with Montezuma when the time came.
Cortés pressed on to Tlaxcala. There, as planned, he met Sandoval, who had brought sixty men from Villa Rica on a circuitous and arduous march through the thick woodlands and high mountains. Sandoval’s men were in good spirits, eager to be involved in active duty again and pleased to hear tales from their compatriots who had been in Tenochtitlán for the last six months. Three hundred specially commissioned lances arrived, wrought by craftsmen in Chinantla in double-edged copper and of great length, to be used against Narváez’s cavalry. Though Cortés hated to wound, let alone kill, any of the prized Spanish mounts, he would do what he had to.12 After inspecting the weapons and the state of his troops—which now included some crossbowmen and a small number of horses but only a very few harquebusiers (most of them having been left with Alvarado in Tenochtitlán)—Cortés advanced toward Cempoala.
They crossed the parched tablelands, heading east until the trail finally spilled toward the sea. Humidity rose up from the smoldering plains of the tierra caliente below, and the men recalled the discomfort and stifling heat of the oppressive coast, but on they marched, until some forty-five miles before Cempoala they came upon a group of envoys from Narváez. Cortés was surprised to see among them his friend and business associate Andrés de Duero, who had been instrumental, back in Cuba, in planning and organizing Cortés’s expedition. Cortés had certainly not forgotten their mutual allegiance. The secret meeting to install Cortés as the man for the expedition had been held at Duero’s home, with support from the king’s accountant Andrés de Lares. Duero had been the one to write the contract that made Cortés captain-general. But Duero also served as secretary to Governor Velázquez, so Cortés needed to establish where Duero’s loyalties now lay.
