by G. A. Henty
In half an hour, however, the messenger returned at a gallop, wounded in a score of places. He reported that the city was up in arms, the drawbridges were raised, and the Mexicans were marching towards the palace. Scarcely had he arrived, when the sentinels on the towers shouted that masses of men were approaching, by all the streets leading to the palace; and immediately afterwards the terraces and flat roofs of the houses near were darkened by throngs of natives, shouting and brandishing their weapons.
The trumpet instantly sounded to arms, and so strict was the discipline that prevailed that, in an incredibly short time, every soldier was at his post. The position was capable of being defended against a very numerous enemy, unprovided with artillery; for the wall round the great one-storied building, though low, was strong; and the turrets, placed at intervals upon it, enabled the defenders to command its face, and to pour missiles upon any who might be bold enough to endeavor to effect a breach, by undermining it with crowbars and levers. The garrison, too, were sufficient for its defense; for there were not only some twelve hundred Spaniards, but the eight thousand Tlascalan allies.
The Aztecs rushed forward, with the shrill whistle used as a battle cry by the people of Anahuac; and, as they advanced, poured a rain of missiles of all kinds upon the palace, to which were added those shot from the terraces and flat roofs.
The Spaniards had pierced the walls with embrasures for their cannon, and these commanded all the avenues. The gunners waited until the columns were close at hand, and then their terrible discharge swept lanes through the crowded masses in the streets. For a moment the Mexicans paused, paralyzed by the terrible slaughter; and then, rallying, rushed forward again. Three times the cannon were discharged into their midst; but though broken and disordered, they still pressed on until they swept up to the very foot of the walls, pouring in a hail of arrows.
They were well seconded by those on the housetops who, from their elevated position, were on a level with the Spaniards; and whose missiles, arrows, javelins, and stones thrown with great force from slings, galled the defenders greatly, and wounded great numbers of them.
In vain did the Aztecs strive to climb the walls. These were of no great height but, as they showed their heads above the parapet, they were shot down by the Spanish arquebus men, or struck backwards by the weapons of the Tlascalans. Failing to scale the walls, they tried to batter down the parapet with heavy pieces of timber. But the stonework was too strong, and they then shot burning arrows into the palace, and hurled blazing torches over the wall.
The palace itself was of stone, but some of the exterior works which had been constructed were of wood, and these were soon on fire. The defenders had no water with which to extinguish the flames and, at the point where the new works joined the wall, the fire was so fierce that they were afraid it would spread to the palace; and, to extinguish it, were forced to adopt the desperate expedient of overthrowing the wall upon the burning mass. The breach thus made was guarded by a battery of heavy guns and a party of arquebusiers, and these repelled every attempt of the Mexicans to take advantage of the breach which had been thus formed.
The fight continued until night fell, and the Mexicans then drew off. Cortez and his followers were astonished at the obstinacy with which they had fought, and the contempt of death they had displayed. They had obtained such easy victories, with forces but a fourth of those which Cortez now commanded, that he had formed the lowest opinion of the fighting powers of the Aztecs. But he now found that a nation was not to be trampled upon with impunity.
However, he consoled himself with the thought that this was but a temporary outbreak of fury; and he determined to sally out with all his force, on the following morning, and to inflict a terrible chastisement upon his assailants.
As soon as the morning broke, the Spaniards were under arms. Cortez was speedily undeceived in his hopes that the slaughter of the previous day would have cowed the Mexicans. The great square and the streets leading to it were seen to be crowded with foes, who appeared better organized than on the previous day, being divided into regiments, each with its banners. These, the Mexican attendants on Montezuma told them, were the cognizances of the many cities of the plain, showing that the whole people were joining in the movement commenced by those of the capital. Towering above the rest was the royal standard of Mexico.
Among the crowd were numerous priests who, with excited gestures, called upon them to avenge the insulted gods, and to destroy the handful of invaders who had brought disgrace upon the nation, had trampled it under foot, had made their sovereign a captive, and murdered their nobles in cold blood. It was evident that, fierce as had been the fighting on the previous day, the renewed assault would be even more formidable.
CHAPTER 18
The Rising In Mexico
The appearance of the vast crowd that surrounded the palace differed much from that which they had presented on the previous day, when the Mexicans had fought in their usual garments, or in their padded cuirasses. Today they had laid aside all their garments save their loincloths, having found by experience that their cotton armor was absolutely useless against the missiles of the Spaniards. The chiefs were now conspicuous, as they moved to and fro among the dark masses, by their gay dresses and the metal breastplates worn over the bright feather work. They wore helmets made to resemble the heads of ferocious wild beasts, crested with bristly hair or surmounted by bright feather plumes. Some wore only a red fillet round their head, having tufts of cotton hanging from it; each tuft denoting some victory in which they had taken part, and their own rank in the army. Noble and citizen, priest and soldier, had all united in the common cause.
The assault was about to commence, when the Spaniards’ artillery and musketry poured death into the crowded ranks. The gates were at once thrown open, and Cortez at the head of his cavalry dashed out, followed by the infantry and the Tlascalan allies. Confused by the slaughter made by the firearms, the Aztecs could offer no resistance to the onslaught. The cavalry trampled them underfoot, and mowed them down with sword and lance. The Spanish foot and Tlascalans following close behind carried on the work of destruction, and it seemed to the Spaniards that the fight was already over, when the Aztecs fled before them.
The movement of retreat, however, ceased the moment the Mexicans reached the barricades which they had thrown up across the streets; and forming behind these they made a gallant stand, while those upon the housetops poured showers of arrows, darts, and great stones down upon the advancing Spaniards. In vain the Spanish artillery were brought up, and their fire swept away the barricades; there were still others behind, and at each the desperate fight was renewed.
Coming down from the side streets, the Aztecs fell upon the Spanish flanks; and clouds of missiles were shot from the boats, which crowded the canals everywhere intersecting the streets.
Cortez and his cavaliers continued to make desperate charges through the Aztecs, who, although unable to withstand the weight and impetus of the horses, closed round them, striving to throw the riders from their backs and to stab the horses themselves—throwing away their lives without hesitation, on the chance of getting one blow at the Spaniards. The moment the horsemen drew back, the Aztecs followed them; and although their loss was immense, their ranks were instantly filled up again, while the Spaniards could ill spare the comparatively small number who fell on their side.
At last, after hours of carnage, the Spaniards, exhausted by their exertions and having eaten nothing since the night before, fell back to the palace. Diaz, one of the historians of the events, who was present at the combat, expressed the astonishment felt by the Spaniards at the desperation with which the despised Mexicans had fought.
“The Mexicans,” he said; “fought with such ferocity that if we had had the assistance of ten thousand Hectors, and as many Orlandos, we should have made no impression on them. There were several of our troops who had served in the Italian wars; but neither there, nor in the battles with the Turk, have they ever seen
anything like the desperation shown by these Indians.”
As the Spaniards fell back the Aztecs followed them, pouring in volleys of stones and arrows; and as soon as they had entered the palace encamped around it, showing that their spirit was wholly unbroken. Although—as it was contrary to their custom to fight at night—they did not renew the attack, they shouted insulting threats as to the Spaniards’ fate, when they should fall into their hands; and were evidently well satisfied with the events of the day, and looked for victory on the morrow.
Cortez had received a severe wound in the hand during the fight, and he and his companions felt how grievously they had mistaken the character of the Aztecs. They had sallied out that morning, confident in their power to crush out the insurrection. They returned, feeling that their situation was well-nigh desperate, and that henceforth they must fight, not for dominion, but for life.
As soon as day broke the fight was renewed, but this time it was the Aztecs and not the Spaniards who began it. There was no idea of a fresh sortie. All that the garrison could hope was to defend their position. So furiously did the natives attack that, for a time, they forced their way into the entrenchments; but the Spaniards, whose turn it was to fight with the bravery of despair, fell upon them with such fury that none of those who had gained an entry returned.
Cortez now sent to Montezuma, to request him to interpose, as he had done before, between them and his people. The emperor refused to interfere. He had viewed the desperate fighting of the last two days with bitter humiliation. He had seen his brother Cuitlahua leading on his troops, with the greatest gallantry; while he himself, thanks to his own conduct, was a helpless prisoner. He mourned over the terrible losses his people were suffering; and the fact that his kindness to the Spaniards had brought upon him nothing but ill treatment and insult at their hands, had earned him the contempt of his people, and had involved his country in misfortune and ruin, cut him to the heart.
“What have I to do with Malinzin?” he said coldly. “I desire only to die.”
When still further urged, he added:
“It is useless. They will neither believe me, nor the false words and promises of Malinzin. You will never leave these walls alive.”
On being assured that the Spaniards would willingly depart, and leave the country, if their assailants would open a way to them, he at last consented to address the people. Clothing himself in his richest robes of state, he ascended the central turret of the palace; surrounded by a guard of Spaniards, and accompanied by several Aztec nobles. When he was seen, the din of war ceased as if by magic. A dead silence fell upon the multitude, and they knelt and prostrated themselves before the sovereign they had so long held in the deepest reverence.
But when he addressed them, assuring them that he was a guest, and not a prisoner, of the Spaniards; and ordered them to lay down their arms, and to allow the Spaniards to march to the coast, indignation at his cowardice overpowered their feelings of reverence and respect. They burst into taunts and execrations, and a moment later a storm of missiles were hurled at the man who had betrayed them.
The Spanish guards, seeing the effect his presence had produced, had stood aside, to enable him the better to be seen; and before they could close around him, and cover him with their shields, three missiles struck him; one, a stone hurled from a sling, smiting him on the head with such violence that he fell insensible. When the Aztecs saw him fall, their brief outburst of indignation was succeeded by one of sorrow; and with a cry of grief the whole multitude dispersed, and in a minute or two the crowded square was wholly deserted.
Montezuma was carried to his chamber. When he recovered sensibility, he refused absolutely to allow his wounds to be dressed, and tore off the bandages. Not a word passed his lips. He sat in an attitude of the deepest dejection. His own people despised him, and had raised their hands against him. He had drunk deeply of the cup of humiliation, at the hands of the Spaniards; but this last drop filled it to overflowing. There was nothing for him but to die.
The Spanish leaders tried, but in vain, to persuade him to submit to surgical treatment. He paid no attention to their words, and they were soon called away by fresh danger from without.
The Aztecs had speedily recovered from their emotion at seeing the fall of the emperor, and a body of five or six hundred of them, including many nobles and military leaders of high rank, had taken possession of the great temple; and now from its summit, a hundred and fifty feet high, opened a rain of missiles upon the palace. The Spaniards could not effectually return their fire, for the Aztecs were sheltered by the sanctuaries on the summit of the pyramids.
It was absolutely necessary, for the safety of the defenders, to dislodge them from this position; and Cortez ordered his chamberlain, Don Escobar, with a hundred men, to storm the teocalli and set fire to the sanctuaries. But the little force were three times repulsed, and forced to fall back with considerable loss. Cortez then, though suffering much from the wound in his left hand, determined himself to lead the assault. As he was incapable of holding his shield, he had it strapped to his left arm; and with three hundred picked men, and some thousands of the Tlascalans, sallied out from the palace, and attacked the Aztecs in the temple at the foot of the pyramid.
The Spaniards made their way through these without much difficulty, and then commenced the ascent of the pyramid. This offered great facilities for defense. There were five terraces connected by steps, so placed that those mounting the pyramid had to make the whole circuit, on each terrace, before reaching the steps leading to the next. It was thus necessary to pass round the pyramid four times, or nearly two miles, exposed to the missiles of those upon the summit.
Leaving a strong body of Spaniards and Tlascalans at the bottom, to prevent the natives ascending and attacking him in the rear, Cortez led the way up the staircase, followed closely by his principal officers. In spite of the heavy stones and beams of wood which, with a storm of arrows, were hurled down upon them, the Spaniards won their way from terrace to terrace, supported by the fire of their musketeers below, until at last they reached the great platform on the summit of the pyramid.
Here a terrible conflict commenced. The Aztecs, brought to bay, and fighting not only for life, but in the presence of their country’s gods, displayed a valor at least equal to that of the Spaniards. Numbers were slightly in their favor, but this was far more than counter-balanced by the superior arms of the Spaniards; and by the armor, which rendered them almost invulnerable to the comparatively puny weapons of the Mexicans. And yet, for three hours the fight continued. At the end of that time, all the Mexicans, save two or three priests, were killed; while forty-five of the Spaniards had fallen, and almost all the others were wounded.
While this fight had been raging the combat had ceased, elsewhere; the combatants on both sides being absorbed in the struggle taking place at the summit of the temple. They could not, of course, judge how it was going; though they caught sight of the combatants as they neared the edges of the platform, which was unprotected by wall or fence; and many in the course of the struggle fell, or were hurled, over it.
The moment the struggle was over, the Spaniards rushed with exulting shouts into the sanctuary of the Mexican god, reeking with the blood of fresh-killed victims; cast the image from its pedestal; rolled it across the platform to the head of the steps; and then, amid shouts that were echoed by their comrades below, sent it bounding down, while a cry of anguish and dismay rose from the Mexicans.
The image dethroned, fire was applied to the sanctuary; and the smoke and flames, rising up, must have told countless thousands, watching the capital from the housetops of the neighboring cities, that the white men had triumphed over the gods of Mexico; and that, as at Cholula so at the capital, these had proved impotent to protect their votaries from the dread invaders. So dismayed were the Mexicans, at the misfortune, that they offered no resistance to the return of the Spaniards from the temple, and retired to their houses without further fighting.
/> At night the Spaniards sallied out again, relying upon the habit of the Mexicans to abstain from fighting at night, and burnt several hundred houses.
Believing that the spirit of the Mexicans would be broken now, Cortez, on the following morning, mounted the turret from which Montezuma had addressed them. Malinche was by his side; and when he held up his hands, to show that he wished to address them, a silence fell upon the multitude; and Malinche’s voice was heard plainly by them, as she translated the words of Cortez. He told them they must now feel that they could not struggle against the Spaniards. Their gods had been cast down, their dwellings burnt, their warriors slaughtered. And all this they had brought on themselves, by their rebellion. Yet if they would lay down their arms, and return to the obedience of their sovereign, he would stay his hand. If not, he would make their city a heap of ruins, and leave not a soul alive to mourn over it.
But Cortez learned, at once, that the spirit he had roused in the Mexicans was in no way lowered by their reverses. One of the great chiefs answered him that it was true he had hurled down their gods, and massacred their countrymen; but they were content to lose a thousand lives for every one that they took.
“Our streets,” he said, “are still thronged with warriors. Our numbers are scarcely diminished. Yours are lessening every day. You are dying with hunger and sickness. Your provisions and water are failing. You must soon fall into our hands. The bridges are broken down, and you cannot escape. There will be too few of you left to satisfy the vengeance of the gods.”
When he had finished, a shower of arrows showed that hostilities had recommenced.
The garrison were now completely disheartened. Of what use the tremendous exertions they had made, and the lives that had been lost? They were still, as they had been on the first day of their arrival, hemmed in in their fortress, surrounded by foes thirsting for their blood. Great numbers were wounded, more or less severely. Their provisions were well-nigh gone. The enemy were bolder than ever. They had been promised wealth and honor—they were starving, and death stared them in the face. They loudly exclaimed that they had been deceived, and betrayed.
