IN THE LEAGUER YET.
Guatamozin took little rest that night. The very uncertainty of the
combat multiplied his cares. It was not to be supposed that his enemy
would keep to the palace, content day after day with receiving assaults;
that was neither his character nor his policy. To-morrow he would
certainly open the gates, and try conclusions in the streets The first
duty, therefore, was to provide for such a contingency. So the 'tzin
went along all the streets leading to the old palace, followed by strong
working-parties; and where the highest houses fronted each other, he
stopped, and thereat the details fell to making barricades, and carrying
stones and logs to the roofs. As a final measure of importance, he cut
passages through the walls of the houses and gardens, that companies
might be passed quickly and secretly from one thoroughfare to another.
Everywhere he found great cause for mourning; but the stories of the day
were necessarily lost in the demands of the morrow.
He visited his caciques, and waited on the lord Cuitlahua to take his
orders; then he passed to the temples, whence, as he well knew, the
multitudes in great part derived their inspiration. The duties of the
soldier, politician, and devotee discharged, he betook himself to the
_chinampa_, and to Tula told the heroisms of the combat, and his plans
and hopes; there he renewed his own inspirations.
Toward morning he returned to the great temple. Hualpa and Io', having
followed him throughout his round, spread their mantles on the roof, and
slept: he could not; between the work of yesterday and that to come, his
mind played pendulously, and with such forceful activity as forbade
slumber. From the quarters of the strangers, moreover, he heard
constantly the ringing of hammers, the neighing and trampling of steeds,
and voices of direction. It was a long night to him; but at last over
the crown of the White Woman the dawn flung its first light into the
valley; and then he saw the palace, its walls manned, the gunners by
their pieces, and in the great court lines of footmen, and at the main
gate horsemen standing by their bridles.
"Thanks, O gods!" he cried. "Walls will not separate my people from
their enemies to-day!"
With the sunrise the assault began,--a repetition of that of the day
before.
Then the guns opened; and while the infidels reeled under the fire, out
of the gates rode Cortes and his chivalry, a hundred men-at-arms. Into
the mass they dashed. Space sufficient having been won, they wheeled
southward down the beautiful street, followed by detachments of bowmen
and arquebusiers and Tlascalans. With them also went Mesa and his guns.
When fairly in the street, environed with walls, the 'tzin's tactics and
preparation appeared. Upon the approach of the cavalry, the companies
took to the houses; only those fell who stopped to fight or had not time
to make the exit. All the time, however, the horsemen were exposed to
the missiles tossed upon them from the roofs. Soon as they passed, out
rushed the infidels in hordes, to fall upon the flanks and rear of the
supporting detachments. Never was Mesa so hard pressed; never were helm
and corselet so nearly useless; never gave up the ghost so many of the
veteran Tlascalans.
At length the easy way of the cavalry was brought to a stop; before them
was the first barricade,--a work of earth and stones too high to be
leaped, and defended by Chinantlan spears, of all native weapons the
most dreaded. Nevertheless, Cortes drew rein only at its foot. On the
instant his shield and mail warded off a score of bronzed points,
whirled his axe, crash went the spears,--that was all.
Meantime, the eager horsemen in the rear, not knowing of the obstacle in
front, pressed on; the narrow space became packed; then from the roofs
on the right hand and the left descended a tempest of stones and lances,
blent with beams of wood, against which no guard was strong enough. Six
men and horses fell there. A cry of dismay arose from the pack, and much
calling was there on patron saints, much writhing and swaying of men
and plunging of steeds, and vain looking upward through bars of steel.
Cortes quitted smashing spears over the barricade.
"Out! out! Back, in Christ's name!" he cried.
The jam was finally relieved.
Again his voice,--
"To Mesa, some of ye; bring the guns! Speed!"
Then he, too, rode slowly back; and sharper than the shame of the
retreat, sharper than the arrows or the taunts of the foe, sharper than
all of them together, was the sight of the six riders in their armor
left to quick despoilment,--they and their good steeds.
It was not easy for Mesa to come; but he did, opening within a hundred
feet of the barricade. Again and again he fired; the smoke wreathed
blinding white about him.
"What sayest thou now?" asked Cortes, impatiently.
"That thou mayest go, and thou wilt. The saints go with thee!"
The barricade was a ruin.
At the first bridge again there was a fierce struggle; when taken, the
floor was heaped with dead and wounded infidels.
And so for hours. Only at the last gate, that opening on the causeway to
Iztapalapan, did Cortes stay the sally. There, riding to the rear, now
become the front, he started in return. Needless to tell how well the
Christians fought, or how devotedly the pagans resisted and perished.
Enough that the going back was more difficult than the coming. Four more
of the Spaniards perished on the way.
At a late hour that night Sandoval entered Cortes' room, and gave him a
parchment. The chief went to the lamp and read; then, snatching his
sword from the table, he walked to and fro, as was his wont when much
disturbed; only his strides were longer, and the gride of the weapon on
the tiled floor more relentless than common.
He stopped abruptly.
"Dead, ten of them! And their horses, captain?"
"Three were saved," replied Sandoval.
"By my conscience, I like it not! and thou?"
"I like it less," said the captain, naïvely.
"What say the men?"
"They demand to be led from the city while yet they have strength to
go."
Cortes frowned and continued his walk. When next he stopped, he said, in
the tone of a man whose mind was made up,--
"Good night, captain. See that the sentinels sleep not; and, captain, as
thou goest, send hither Martin Lopez, and mind him to bring one or two
of his master carpenters. Good night."
The mind of the leader, never so quick as in time of trouble, had in the
few minutes reviewed the sortie. True, he had broken through the
barricades, taken bridge after bridge, and driven the enemy often as
they opposed him; he had gone triumphantly to the very gates of the
city, and returned, and joined Olmedo in unctuous celebration of the
achievement; yet the good was not as clear and immediate as at first
appeared.
He recalled the tactics of his enemy: how, on his approach, they had
vanished from the street and assailed him from the roofs; how, when he
had passed, they poured into the street again, and flung themselves hand
to hand upon the infantry and artillery. And the result,--ten riders and
seven horses were dead; of the Tlascalans in the column nearly all had
perished; every Christian foot-soldier had one or more wounds. At
Cempoalla he himself had been hurt in the left hand; now he was sore
with contusions. He set his teeth hard at thought of the moral effect of
the day's work; how it would raise the spirit of the infidels, and
depress that of his own people. Already the latter were clamoring to be
led from the city,--so the blunt Captain Sandoval had said.
The enemy's advantage was in the possession of the houses. The
roofs dominated the streets. Were there no means by which he could
dominate the roofs? He bent his whole soul to the problem. Somewhere
he had read or heard of the device known in ancient warfare as
_mantelets_,--literally, a kind of portable roof, under which besiegers
approached and sapped or battered a wall. The recollection was welcome;
the occasion called for an extraordinary resort. He laid the sword
gently upon the table, gently as he would a sleeping child, and sent for
Lopez.
That worthy came, and with him two carpenters, each as rough as himself.
And it was a picture, if not a comedy, to watch the four bending over
the table to follow Cortes, while, with his dagger-point, he drew lines
illustrative of the strange machine. They separated with a perfect
understanding. The chief slept soundly, his confidence stronger than
ever.
Another day,--the third. From morn till noon and night, the clamor of
assault and the exertion of defence, the roar of guns from within, the
rain of missiles from without,--Death everywhere.
All the day Cortes held to the palace. On the other side, the 'tzin kept
close watch from the _teocallis_. That morning early he had seen workmen
bring from the palace some stout timbers, and in the great court-yard
proceed to frame them. He plied the party with stones and arrows; again
and again, best of all the good bowmen of the valley, he himself sent
his shafts at the man who seemed the director of the work; as often did
they splinter upon his helm or corselet, or drop harmless from the close
links of tempered steel defending his limbs. The work went steadily on,
and by noon had taken the form of towers, two in number, and high as
ordinary houses. By sunset both were under roof.
[Illustration: CORTES DREW REIN ONLY AT ITS FOOT]
When the night came, the garrison were not rested; and as to the
infidels, the lake received some hundreds more of them, which was only
room made for other hundreds as brave and devoted.
Over the palace walls the besiegers sent words ominous and disquieting,
and not to be confounded with the half-sung formulas of the watchers
keeping time on the temples by the movement of the stars.
"Malinche, Malinche, we are a thousand to your one. Our gods hunger for
vengeance. You cannot escape them."
So the Spaniards heard in their intervals of unrest.
"O false sons of Anahuac, the festival is making ready; your hearts are
Huitzil's; the cages are open to receive you."
The Tlascalans heard, and trembled.
The fourth day. Still Cortes kept within the palace, and still the
assault; nor with all the slaughter could there be perceived any
decrease either in the number of the infidels or the spirit of their
attack.
Meantime the workmen in the court-yard clung to the construction of the
towers. Lopez was skilful, Cortes impatient. At last they were finished.
That night the 'tzin visited Tula. At parting, she followed him to the
landing. Yeteve went with her. "The blessing of the gods be upon you!"
she said; and the benediction, so trustful and sweetly spoken, was
itself a blessing. Even the slaves, under their poised oars, looked at
her and forgot themselves, as well they might. The light of the great
torch, kindled by the keeper of the _chinampa_, revealed her perfectly.
The head slightly bent, and the hands crossed over the breast, helped
the prayerful speech. Her eyes were not upon the slaves, yet their
effect was; and they were such eyes as give to night the beauty of
stars, while taking nothing from it, neither depth nor darkness.
The canoe put off.
"Farewell," said Io'. His warrior-life was yet in its youth.
"Farewell," said Hualpa. And she heard him, and knew him thinking of his
lost love.
In the 'tzin's absence the garrison of the temple had been heavily
reinforced. The _azoteas_, when he returned, was covered with warriors,
asleep on their mantles, and pillowed on their shields. He bade his
companions catch what slumber they could, and went into the grimy but
full-lighted presence-chamber, and seated himself on the step of the
altar. In a little while Hualpa came in, and stopped before him as if
for speech.
"You have somewhat to say," said the 'tzin, kindly. "Speak."
"A word, good 'tzin, a single word. Io' lies upon his mantle; he is
weary, and sleeps well. I am weary, but cannot sleep. I suffer--"
"What?" asked the 'tzin.
"Discontent."
"Discontent!"
"O 'tzin, to follow you and win your praise has been my greatest
happiness; but as yet I have done nothing by myself. I pray you, give me
liberty to go where I please, if only for a day."
"Where would you go?"
"Where so many have tried and failed,--over the wall, into the palace."
There was a long silence, during which the supplicant looked on the
floor, and the master at him.
"I think I understand you," the latter at length said. "To-morrow I will
give you answer. Go now."
Hualpa touched the floor with his palm, and left the chamber. The 'tzin
remained thoughtful, motionless. An hour passed.
"Over the wall, into the palace!" he said, musingly. "Not for country,
not for glory,--for Nenetzin. Alas, poor lad! From his life she has
taken the life. Over the wall into the--Sun. To-morrow comes swiftly;
good or ill, the gifts it brings are from the gods. Patience!"
And upon the step he spread his mantle, and slept, muttering, "Over the
wall, into the palace, and she has not called him! Poor lad!"