Conquistador: Hernan Cortes, King Montezuma, and the Last Stand of the Aztecs

by Buddy Levy

  The assaults proved foolhardy and costly. As the captains and their charges scrambled up the steep rock faces, at times reduced to a literal crawl on their hands and knees, they arrived at points that left them exposed to the garrison above. Repeating the tactic used recently against Sandoval, the Aztecs hurled giant boulders that thundered down, shattering into pieces that ripped through the Spaniards at the front, killing a few and maiming many others. Bernal Díaz was in the vanguard alongside the standard-bearer Corral, and as stones from the overhead crag crashed and caromed past them, sparking against the rock walls, they sought shelter—Díaz beneath a protective overhang, Corral behind a knot of thick thornbushes, clinging for his life to the sharp branches. Corral’s face streamed blood as he called out for Díaz and the others to go no farther—it was futile. Looking back, Díaz saw that the flag on the standard was torn to shreds. Through word of mouth the men hollered their predicament down the ravine to Cortés, who ordered a retreat, and the men descended as best they could, a great number badly wounded, the healthiest carrying the dead.9

  Down below on the plain, the cavalry was able to disperse small bands of Aztec warriors and return. Cortés and his company spent a difficult night on the open chaparral, the men and horses brutally parched, as there was no water, and no one had drunk for an entire day. Bernal Díaz remembered the terrible night they spent huddled in a dusty mulberry grove, “half dead with thirst.”10 The men struggled to sleep, haunted all night long by the sounds of drums and trumpets and taunts of ridicule from the enemy above.

  At sunrise, the first order of business was to water the horses in a spring that a scout had found nearly three miles away. Cortés took a few captains with him on foot to scout another approach to Tlaycapan—and noticed two options that appeared less steep. As Cortés and his captains moved forward, many of the Indian allies followed behind (though they had not been instructed to do so), and all the activity warned the Aztecs above that the attack would be coming from one of the more gradual approaches. The Aztecs who had been guarding the steep ravine therefore abandoned their posts. Cortés immediately capitalized by sending Francisco Verdugo and the king’s treasurer Julián de Alderete with fifty men to fly up the gorge and capture the top if they could. After a difficult climb, the Spaniards reached the top and fired crossbows and harquebuses; the loud and violent discharges of the guns frightened the Indians, many of whom surrendered. Alderete distinguished himself, proving as good as his word with his crossbow. After some time Cortés could see the Castilian banner waving from the rocky pinnacle, and he followed up the narrow defile with reinforcements to secure the garrison.11

  As it turned out, the Aztecs here sued for peace partly because, like Cortés and his men, they were out of water and thirsty. The Spaniards were pleased to see that the women of the village made the sign for peace, clapping their palms together to indicate that they would be happy to make maize cakes, and that the warriors laid down their weapons and ceased hurling stones and darts at them.

  Cortés and his troops remained here for two days, during which time Aztec forces abandoned the fortresses and the local inhabitants sued for peace, agreeing to Spanish vassalage. Cortés sent his wounded back to the more comfortable lodgings of Texcoco for treatment before he continued south on his quest of reconnaissance, subjugation, and encirclement.

  The departure south took them down the steep descent of the Cordilleras, which plunged nearly two thousand feet from the plateau over lava-blackened ground in less than a day’s march. The men and horses breathed easier and gained strength as they lost altitude. Cortés observed the more temperate climate; the spring flowers were already in bloom, and vegetables and fruit grew along the trailside. At Oaxtepec, which Sandoval had recently marched through and subdued, Cortés was received warmly and “quartered in a chief’s country house amid the most beautiful and refreshing gardens ever seen.”12

  The captain-general found himself amid what were arguably the finest botanical gardens in the world, begun by Montezuma I*48 during his reign and maintained immaculately ever since. Resplendent summer homes sprawled over miles of spring-fed countryside; small streams meandered through the tidy city punctuated by lovely ponds. Cortés was impressed, choosing to rest there for a day. “There are summer houses spaced out at distances of two crossbowshots,” he recorded for his emperor, “and very bright flower beds, a great many trees with various fruits, and many herbs and sweet-smelling flowers. Certainly, the elegance and magnificence of this garden make a remarkable sight.”13

  The deep impression was well earned, for these were the most famous and revered botanical gardens in all of Mexico, a place of pleasure for the political elite. The gardens were also experimental and medicinal. Flowers and trees were brought from all over the country, including the sultry lowland of the tierra caliente, to see if they might prosper in Oaxtepec in the gardens of the nobility. The tremendous nurseries and orchards were all carefully nurtured by skilled botanical experts, under sanction of the Aztec government. Cortés and his men would have been able to sample flavorful (and to them, novel) pineapples, guavas, avocados, and yams.14

  Rested and refreshed by the garden setting, Cortés moved on the next day, taking two days to pass through a series of small towns on his way to the more important Cuernavaca,**49 an immensely wealthy city bounded by severe ravines and accessible only in two places by bridges spanning these deep ravines. Cortés was struck by how well defended the city was, noting that the bridges had been raised to thwart their entry, and that the defenders were “so safe that had we been ten times our number they could have held us with scorn.”15 He learned that there were a few places about a mile away where horses could cross the barrancas, and he rode for those while captains and soldiers looked for ways they might cross the removed bridges, all the while ducking a steady barrage of stones and spears and darts.

  Bernal Díaz observed that there were two large trees growing toward each other from opposite banks of the ravine, their branches intertwining. Though it was dangerous, a brave Tlaxcalan warrior began to shinny across, clinging to branches and inching along the trunks. When he made it across, others were emboldened and followed suit, including Díaz, who remembered how frightening it was to look down: “When I was crossing and saw how bad and dangerous the crossing was, I turned quite giddy, but still I got across.”16 Others were less fortunate. Three soldiers lost their nerve and their grip and plunged into the water below, one of them breaking his leg. About thirty Spaniards made the arduous crossing, followed by a substantial number of Tlaxcalans.

  While this acrobatic aerial crossing was under way, Cortés rode with his cavalry into the mountainous outskirts and discovered an alternate passage at a narrow gorge, and though under attack the Spaniards made it across. The Aztecs defending that side of the city rallied to fight the incoming cavalry, leaving Bernal Díaz and company free to push forward toward the city. At nearly the same time Cristóbal de Olid, Andrés de Tapia, and a few other horsemen partially repaired and crossed a dilapidated bridge, and they came alongside Bernal Díaz and his men, as did Cortés and the rest of his cavalry. All of them proceeded to surprise and frighten the Aztecs, who were shocked to see so many Tlaxcalans streaming across. Many of the Aztecs, terrified by the horses, fled and hid in ditches and behind bushes and shrubs, while others ran off to the mountains.17

  Cortés and his men arrived at the center of the city to find it mostly vacated and much of it already mysteriously burned, perhaps as a punitive Aztec strike. He took control of one of the chiefs’ houses in a gorgeous garden, and his men scoured the nearby aristocratic lodgings, appropriating a “great spoil of large bales of cloth as well as good-looking women.”18 A short time later some twenty chiefs of the town arrived, unarmed, holding their hands up in peace. They gave Cortés gold and jewels and asked his pardon, saying (truthfully) that the Aztecs had forced their warriors to try to defend their city. Cortés granted the pardon, and with the usual legalistic proclamations Cuernavaca and its
people were made the property of Spain.19

  This was as far south as Cortés would venture during the present expedition. The next day he struck northward, climbing from the lovely garden enclaves of Cuernavaca and Oaxtepec up through scrubby pine forests into high mountains, the trails devilishly steep and narrow and the streambeds dry. The Spaniards and their allies strung out in a long train that struggled slowly upward, climbing higher and higher into the Serranía de Ajusco, crossing a cold pass at over ten thousand feet. Without water for most of the day, the men grew tired and weak, and a few of the Indian allies fell along the bony trailside and perished from thirst. On the descent, Cortés discovered a series of farms with scant shelter, and Bernal Díaz found a small spring near one of the farms with a bit of water. He filled a pitcher and brought it to Cortés, worried as he hurried along that it would be stolen from him, for as he put it, “thirst has no laws.”20 Cortés and a few of his officers guzzled the water and camped that night in the bitter cold under wind-driven light rain, without food or more water.

  At sunrise they were up and on the move again, and from their height they could see the familiar Valley of Mexico and the town of Xochimilco (“Field of Flowers”), a beautiful and powerful city built primarily over the water on the far southwest side of the lake district. Tenochtitlán counted on Xochimilco’s annual tribute of vegetables and flowers, which grew in the rich organic chinampas along the southern lakeshores.21 Like Tenochtitlán, Xochimilco was protected and accessed by causeways, being suspended over the water some half-mile from the southern shore, though its causeways were shorter.

  Small bands of enemy skirmishers attacked Cortés and his men as they approached, using light volleys of darts and spears followed by quick retreats. The captain-general and the vanguard were content to withstand these brief assaults and continue forward, though cautiously, for he could not be certain what level of reinforcement the city might garner from the capital itself, beyond to the north. Dismounting and joining the foot soldiers, Cortés decided to try to take the main causeway; he found a great number of Aztecs there, sent by Cuauhtémoc to defend it. He ordered divisions of crossbowmen and harquebusiers ahead to fire on the defenders, and after constant bombardment the Aztecs weakened and dispersed, allowing the Spaniards in the vanguard across the causeway. Given his previous negative experiences with causeway battle, Cortés was less than comfortable with the situation, and in this case he was right to worry, for the retreat of the Aztecs had actually been a successful ploy to lure him across.

  Though some of his men in the front made it into the city and the chiefs of Xochimilco were ostensibly surrendering and asking for peace, at that moment Aztecs were paddling ferociously in droves to come in support, appearing in large numbers on either side of the causeway in the early evening light. Cortés and many of his men had crossed the causeway and remounted, now using the horses to great effect, and the fighting grew fierce in the city streets. The Aztecs used special swords that they had adapted using found and confiscated Spanish steel points, and they caused dire injury.22 Cortés rode at the head of the fighting on his dark chestnut stallion El Romo, (“The Flat-nosed”), and after continued battling for over an hour Cortés’s horse “broke down, and the Mexican warriors who were around in great numbers laid hold of Cortés and dragged him from the horse,” wounding him severely in the head.23 Though he struggled mightily, Cortés was overwhelmed by the numbers of warriors who attempted to carry him away as a spoil of war, and ironically, their desire to take him prisoner probably saved his life. Just then a soldier named Cristóbal de Olea came along with a Tlaxcalan soldier, and they hacked their way through to Cortés and wrested him from the enemy’s grasp. Slinging him back onto El Romo, they fought their way out of immediate danger. Olea suffered injury for his courage, sustaining three deep sword wounds.

  Cortés had barely escaped with his life, but a few unfortunate Spaniards did not. A number were taken alive and later sacrificed and dismembered by Cuauhtémoc personally, their severed limbs paraded through the provinces to illustrate that the Aztecs were indeed defeating these vile teules, these Spaniards.24 Soon afterward Andrés de Tapia and Cristóbal de Olid rode up, blood pouring down Olid’s face, and his horse appeared painted with blood, as did a number of others. A large number of Spaniards and Tlaxcalans were badly wounded. They took shelter behind a barricade wall, searing their wounds with hot oil and spending a sleepless, anguished night being pummeled with javelins and slingstones. The crossbowmen, overseen by Pedro Barba, bided their time fixing copper arrow points and feathering the shafts. Cortés discovered that the causeway bridges had been removed to trap them inside the city, so he ordered thousands of Tlaxcalans out onto the causeway to fill in the gaps with stones and wood to allow escape at dawn.

  At first light Cortés and a few of his captains ascended the pyramid of Xochimilco, which afforded them a panoramic view of the city below and the capital on the north lake. Cortés could hardly believe what he saw, and he would certainly have cursed at himself for falling into the trap. Coursing across the lake at great speed from the capital were some two thousand canoes, each brimming with warriors in full battle regalia, the captains in front, wielding captured Spanish swords. Cortés learned from messengers that another ten thousand Aztecs were on their way from Tenochtitlán over land. Cuauhtémoc planned to pinch Cortés from all sides and snare him within the water-bound city. From below on the water Cortés could hear the chant echoing across the valley, a cacophonic cry from the warriors paddling fearlessly toward them, calling out in unison “Mexico! Mexico! Tenochtitlán! Tenochtitlán!”25

  Cortés and his captains ran down the pyramid steps and immediately ordered a retreat from the city. The Tlaxcalans had done their work well, filling in the removed bridge on the causeway, allowing passage by foot soldiers as well as cavalry. During the night able-bodied soldiers had looted the palaces, finding large bales of cotton cloth, as well as gold, but Cortés regretfully informed his men that most of it should be left behind so they would not be slowed in their exit from the city. Amid their grumbling Cortés hastily assembled his captains in divisions, himself taking twenty cavalry and five hundred Tlaxcalans in orderly defensive formation. They battled their way across the causeway to the mainland, harried continuously from all quarters.

  With cavalry protecting the rear as well, Cortés and his troops made it back to the mainland, leaving the beautiful water-bound metropolis of Xochimilco a smoking ruin. “In the end,” remembered Cortés with cold candor, “we left it burnt and ruined, and it was a notable sight, for there had been many houses and towers for their idols all built of stone and mortar.”26 After regrouping at the foot of a large hill about a mile from the lakeshore, Cortés spurred his horse and slung his company north, heading to the town of Coyoacán about seven miles away. They rode into the town on April 18, after three days of continuous fighting, relieved to find the city (a major tribute center for the Triple Alliance) almost completely deserted. Seeing the damage done at Xochimilco, civilians along the southwestern lakeshore were now fleeing before the Spaniards’ advance.

  Cortés continued his forced march north to Tacuba, pestered all the while by small divisions of Aztec foot warriors and men arriving in canoes from the lake. During the nights the Aztecs taunted the Spaniards, so that sleep proved impossible, and Cortés and his men plodded on, wounded and fatigued, toward the safety of Texcoco. At one stretch along the western shores Cortés was ambushed and in the fighting lost two young pages, Francisco Martín Vendabel and Pedro Gallego.27 Though Cortés always suffered at the loss of his men, he grieved particularly hard for these pages on account of their youth and their commitment and courage during the campaign. The youngsters had been taken alive, and Cortés grew speechless and despondent at the thought of their fate at the hands of Cuauhtémoc.

  Perhaps to ease his anguish and his conscience and perhaps to remind himself to stay focused on the prize, at Tacuba Cortés took Father Melgarejo and the treasurer Julián de Aldere
te to the top of the main temple, affording them a spectacular view of the lake and the capital. They watched the canoes coming and going, some loaded with goods for the market, some taking men out to catch fish in nets. They marveled at the sprawl of complex metropolises that truly appeared to be floating on the water. The two men assured Cortés that they would report these wonders directly to His Majesty their emperor.28

  The weather turned and the rains came in sheets as Cortés rode for Texcoco, his reconnaissance encirclement complete. The fires spat and smoldered in the rubble of towns he had left behind him. He and his men squelched through deep muck and mire, arriving finally at the outskirts of Texcoco on April 22, 1521, after a campaign of nearly three weeks. Most of the Spaniards and horses were badly wounded, and untold numbers of Tlaxcalans and other allies had been hurt or killed, but Cortés had managed to tighten the noose around the neck of Cuauhtémoc and his stubborn Aztec empire. Gonzalo de Sandoval rode out to greet Cortés as he approached, covered in mud and blood. Sandoval bore good news: while Cortés had been away, more reinforcements—Spaniards, arms, and horses—had arrived, and, even more important, the brigantines were completed. The rains that should have dampened the captain-general’s spirits were now filling the canal in which the thirteen freshly caulked warships floated, poised to be launched.