LA NOCHE TRISTE.
The movement of the fugitive army was necessarily slow. Stretched out in
the street, it formed a column of irregular front and great depth. A
considerable portion was of non-combatants, such as the sick and
wounded, the servants, women, and prisoners; to whom might be added the
Indians carrying the baggage and ammunition, and laboriously dragging
the guns. The darkness, and the rain beaten into the faces of the
sufferers by the wind, made the keeping order impossible; at each step
the intervals between individuals and between the divisions grew wider
and wider. After crossing two or three of the bridges, a general
confusion began to prevail; the officers, in dread of the enemy, failed
to call out, and the soldiers, bending low to protect their faces, and
hugging their arms or their treasure, marched in dogged silence,
indifferent to all but themselves. Soon what was at first a fair column
in close order became an irregular procession; here a crowd of all the
arms mixed, there a thin line of stragglers.
It is a simple thing, I know, yet nothing has so much to do with what we
habitually call our spirits as the condition in which we are at the
time. Under an open sky, with the breath of a glowing morning in our
nostrils, we sing, laugh, and are brave; but let the cloud hide the blue
expanse and cover our walk with shadow, and we shrink within ourselves;
or worse, let the walk be in the night, through a strange place, with
rain and cold added, and straightway the fine thing we call courage
merges itself into a sense of duty or sinks into humbler concern for
comfort and safety. So, not a man in all the column,--not a cavalier,
not a slave,--but felt himself oppressed by the circumstances of the
situation; those who, only that afternoon, had charged like lions along
that very street now yielded to the indefinable effect, and were weak of
heart even to timidity. The imagination took hold of most of them,
especially of the humbler class, and, lining the way with terrors all
its own, reduced them to the state when panic rushes in to complete what
fear begins. They started at the soughing of the wind; drew to strike
each other; cursed the rattle of their arms, the hoof-beats of the
horses, the rumble of the carriage-wheels; on the houses, vaguely
defined against the sky, they saw sentinels ready to give the alarm,
and down the intersecting streets heard the infidel legions rushing upon
them; very frequently they stumbled over corpses yet cumbering the way
after the day's fight, and then they whispered the names of saints, and
crossed themselves: the dead, always suggestive of death, were never so
much so to them.
And so, for many squares, across canals, past palaces and temples, they
marched, and nothing to indicate an enemy; the city seemed deserted.
"Hist, Señor!" said Duero, speaking with bated breath. "Hast thou not
heard of the army of unbelievers that, in the night, while resting in
their camp, were by a breath put to final sleep? Verily, the same good
angel of the Lord hath been here also."
"Nay, _compadre mio_," replied Cortes, bending in his saddle, "I cannot
so persuade myself. If the infidels meant to let us go, the going would
not be so peaceful. From some house-top we should have had their
barbarous farewell,--a stone, a lance, an arrow, at least a curse. By
many signs,--for that matter, by the rain which, driven through the
visor bars, is finding its way down the doublet under my
breastplate,--by many signs, I know we are in the midst of a storm. Good
Mother forfend, lest, bad as it is, it presage something worse!"
At that moment a watcher on the _azoteas_ of a temple near by chanted
the hour of midnight.
"Didst hear?" asked Cortes. "They are not asleep! Olmedo! father! Where
art thou?"
"What wouldst thou, my son?"
"That thou shouldst not get lost in this Tophet; more especially, that
thou shouldst keep to thy prayers."
And about that time Sandoval, at the head of his advanced guard, rode
from the street out on the open causeway. Farther on, but at no great
distance, he came to the first canal. While there, waiting for the
bridge to be brought forward, he heard from the lake to his right the
peal long and loud of a conch-shell. His heart, in battle steadfast as a
rock, throbbed faster; and with raised shield and close-griped sword, he
listened, as did all with him, while other shells took up and carried
the blast back to the city, and far out over the lake.
In the long array none failed to interpret the sound aright; all
recognized a signal of attack, and halted, the slave by his prolong, the
knight on his horse, each one as the moment found him. They said not a
word, but listened; and as they heard the peal multiply countlessly in
every direction,--now close by, now far off,--surprise, the first
emotion, turned to dismay. Flight,--darkness,--storm,--and now the
infidels! "May God have mercy on us!" murmured the brave, making ready
to fight. "May God have mercy on us!" echoed the timid, ready to fly.
The play of the wind upon the lake seemed somewhat neutralized by the
density of the rain; still the waves splashed lustily against the
grass-grown sides of the causeway; and while Sandoval was wondering if
there were many, who, in frail canoes, would venture upon the waste at
such a time, another sound, heard, as it were, under that of the conchs,
yet too strong to be confounded with wind or surging water, challenged
his attention; then he was assured.
"Now, gentlemen," he said, "get ye ready; they are coming. Pass the
word, and ride one to Magarino,--speed to him, speed him here! His
bridge laid now were worth a hundred lives!"
As the yells of the infidels--or, rather, their yell, for the many
voices rolled over the water in one great volume--grew clearer their
design became manifest.
Cortes touched Olmedo:--
"Dost thou remember the brigantines?"
"What of them?"
"Only, father, that what will happen to-night would not if they were
afloat. Now shall we pay the penalty of their loss. _Ay de mi!_" Then he
said aloud to the cavaliers, Morla, Olid, Avila, and others. "By my
conscience, a dark day for us was that in which the lake went back to
the heathen,--brewer, it, of this darker night! An end of loitering! Bid
the trumpeters blow the advance! One ride forward to hasten Magarino;
another to the rear that the division may be closed up. No space for the
dogs to land from their canoes. Hearken!"
The report of a gun, apparently back in the city, reached them.
"They are attacking the rear-guard! Mesa spoke then. On the right hear
them, and on the left! Mother of God, if our people stand not firm now,
better prayers for our souls than fighting for our lives!"
A stone then struck Avila, startling the group with its clang upon his
armor.
"A slinger!" cried Cortes. "On the right here,--can ye see him?"
They looked that way, but saw nothing. Then the sense of helplessness in
exposure smote them, and, knightly as they were, they also felt the
common fear.
"Make way! Room, room!" shouted Magarino, rushing to the front, through
the advance-guard. His Tlascalans were many and stout; to swim the
canal,--with ropes to draw the bridge after them,--to plant it across
the chasm, were things achieved in a moment.
"Well done, Magarino! Forward, gentlemen,--forward all!" so saying,
Sandoval spurred across; after him, in reckless haste, his whole
division rushed. The platform, quivering throughout, was stancher than
the stone revetments upon which its ends were planted; calcined by fire,
they crumbled like chalk. The crowd then crossing, sensible that the
floor was giving way under them, yelled with terror, and in their
frantic struggle to escape toppled some of them into the canal. None
paused to look after the unfortunates; for the shouting of the infidels,
which had been coming nearer and nearer, now rose close at hand,
muffling the thunder of the horses plunging on the sinking bridge.
Moreover, stones and arrows began to fall in that quarter with effect,
quickening the hurry to get away.
Cortes reached the bridge at the same time the infidels reached the
causeway. He called to Magarino; before the good captain could answer,
the waves to the right hand became luminous with the plashing of
countless paddles, and a fleet of canoes burst out of the darkness. Up
rose the crews, ghost-like in their white armor, and showered the
Christians with missiles. A cry of terror,--a rush,--and the cavaliers
were pushed on the bridge, which they jammed deeper in the rocks. Some
horses, wild with fright, leaped into the lake, and, iron-clad, like
their riders, were seen no more.
On the further side, Cortes wheeled about, and shouted to his friends.
Olmedo answered, so did Morla; then they were swept onward.
Alone, and in peril of being forced down the side of the dike, Cortes
held his horse to the place. The occasional boom of guns, a straggling
fire of small arms, and the unintermitted cries of the infidels, in tone
exultant and merciless, assured him that the attack was the same
everywhere down the column. One look he gave the scene near by,--on the
bridge, a mass of men struggling, cursing, praying; wretches falling,
their shrieks shrill with despair; the lake whitening with assailants!
He shuddered, and called on the saints; then the instinct of the soldier
prevailed:--
"_Ola_, comrades!" he cried. "It is nothing. Stand, if ye love life.
Stand, and fight, as ye so well know how! Holy Cross! _Christo y
Santiago!_"
He spurred into the thick of the throng. In vain: the current was too
strong; the good steed seconded him with hoof and frontlet; now he
prayed, now cursed; at last he yielded, seeing that on the other side of
the bridge was Fear, on his side Panic.
When the signal I have described, borne from the lake to the city, began
to resound from temple to temple, the rear-guard were yet many squares
from the causeway, and had, for the most part, become merely a
procession of drenched and cowering stragglers. The sound alarmed them;
and divining its meaning, they assembled in accidental groups, and so
hurried forward.
Nenetzin and Marina, yet in company, were also startled by the noisy
shells. The latter stayed not to question or argue; at her word, sharply
spoken, her slaves followed fast after the central division, and rested
not until they had gained a place well in advance of the non-combatants,
whose slow and toilsome progress she had shrewdly dreaded. Not so
Nenetzin: the alarm proceeded from her countrymen; feared she,
therefore, for her lover; and when, vigilant as he was gallant, he rode
to her, and kissed her hand, and spoke to her in lover's phrase, she
laughed, though not understanding a word, and bade her slaves stay with
him.
Last man in the column was Leon, brave gentleman, good captain. With his
horsemen, he closed upon the artillery.
"Friend," he said to Mesa, "the devil is in the night. As thou art
familiar with wars as Father Olmedo with mass, how readest thou the
noise we hear?"
The veteran, walking at the moment between two of his guns, replied,--
"Interpret we each for himself, Señor. I am ready to fight. See!"
And drawing his cloak aside, he showed the ruddy spark of a lighted
match.
"As thou seest, I am ready; yet"--and he lowered his voice--"I shame not
to confess that I wish we were well out of this."
"Good soldier art thou!" said Leon. "I will stay with thee. _A la Madre
todos!_"
The exclamation had scarcely passed his lips when to their left and
front the darkness became peopled with men in white, rushing upon them,
and shouting, "Up, up, Tlateloco! _O, O luilones, luilones!_"[53]
"Turn thy guns quickly, Mesa, or we are lost!" cried Leon; and to his
comrades, "Swords and axes! Upon them, gentlemen! _Santiago, Santiago!_"
The veteran as promptly resolved himself into action. A word to his
men,--then he caught a wheel with one hand, and swung the carriage
round, and applied the match. The gun failed fire, but up sprang a
hissing flame, and in its lurid light out came all the scene about: the
infidels pouring into the street, the Tlascalans and many Spaniards in
flight, Leon charging almost alone, and right amongst the guns a
fighting man,--by his armor, half pagan, half Christian,--all this Mesa
saw, and more,--that the slaves had abandoned the ropes, and that of the
gunners the few who stood their ground were struggling for life hand to
hand; still more, that the gun he was standing by looked point-blank
into the densest ranks of the foe. Never word spoke he; repriming the
piece, he applied the match again. The report shook the earth, and was
heard and recognized by Cortes out on the causeway; but it was the
veteran's last shot. To his side sprang the 'tzin: in his ear a war-cry,
on his morion a blow, and under the gun he died. When Duty loses a good
servant Honor gains a hero.
The fight--or, rather, the struggle of the few against the many--went
on. The 'tzin led his people boldly, and they failed him not. Leon drew
together all he could of Christians and Tlascalans; then, as game to be
taken at leisure, his enemy left him. Soon the fugitives following
Alvarado heard a strange cry coming swiftly after them, "_O, O luilones!
O luilones!_"
And through the rain and the night, doubly dark in the canals, Hualpa
sped to the open lake, followed by nine canoes, fashioned for speed,
each driven by six oarsmen, and carrying four warriors; so there were
with him nine and thirty chosen men, with linked mail under their white
tunics, and swords of steel on their long lances,--arms and armor of the
Christians.
Off the causeway, beyond the first canal, he waited, until the great
flotillas, answering his signal, closed in on the right hand and left;
then he started for the canal, chafing at the delay of his vessels.
"Faster, faster, my men!" he said aloud; then to himself, "Now will I
wrest her from the robber, and after that she will give me her love
again. O happy, happy hour!"
He sought the canal, thinking, doubtless, that the Christians would find
it impassable, and that in their front, as the place of safety, they
would most certainly place Nenetzin. There, into the press he drove.
"Not here! Back, my men!" he shouted.
The chasm was bridged.
And marvelling at the skill of the strangers, which overcame
difficulties as by magic, and trembling lest they should escape and his
love be lost to him after all, he turned his canoe,--if possible, to be
the first at the next canal. Others of his people were going in the same
direction, but he out-stript them.
"Faster, faster!" he cried; and the paddles threshed the water,--wings
of the lake-birds not more light and free. Into the causeway he bent, so
close as to hear the tramp of horses; sometimes shading his eyes against
the rain, and looking up, he saw the fugitives, black against the
clouds,--strangers and Tlascalans,--plumes of men, but never scarf of
woman.
Very soon the people on the causeway heard his call to the boatmen, and
the plash of the paddles, and they quickened their pace.
"_Adelante! adelante!_" cried Sandoval, and forward dashed the
cavaliers.
"O my men, land us at the canal before the strangers come up, and in my
palace at ease you shall eat and drink all your lives! Faster, faster!"
So Hualpa urged his rowers, and in their sinewy hands the oaken blades
bent like bows.
Behind dropped the footmen,--even the Tlascalans; and weak from hunger
and wounds, behind dropped some of the horses. Shook the causeway,
foamed the water. A hundred yards,--and the coursers of the lake were
swift as the coursers of the land; half a mile,--and the appeal of the
infidel and the cheering cry of the Christian went down the wind on the
same gale. At last, as Hualpa leaped from his boat, Sandoval checked his
horse,--both at the canal.
Up the dike the infidels clambered to the attack. And there was clang of
swords and axes, and rearing and plunging of steeds; then the voice of
the good captain,--
"God's curse upon them! They have our shields!"
A horse, pierced to the heart, leaped blindly down the bank, and from
the water rose the rider's imploration: "Help, help, comrades! For the
love of Christ, help! I am drowning!"
Again Sandoval,--
"_Cuidado_,--beware! They have our swords on their lances!" Then,
observing his horsemen giving ground, "Stand fast! Unless we hold the
canal for Magarino, all is lost! Upon them! _Santiago, Santiago!_"
A rally and a charge! The sword-blades did their work well; horses,
wounded to death or dead, began to cumber the causeway, and the groans
and prayers of their masters caught under them were horrible to hear.
Once, with laughter and taunting jests, the infidels retreated down the
slope; and once, some of them, close pressed, leaped into the canal. The
lake received them kindly; with all their harness on they swam ashore.
Never was Sandoval so distressed.
Meantime, the footmen began to come up; and as they were intolerably
galled by the enemy, who sometimes landed and engaged them hand to hand,
they clamored for those in front to move on. "Magarino! The bridge, the
bridge! Forward!" With such cries, they pressed upon the horsemen, and
reduced the space left them for action.
At length Sandoval shouted,--
"_Ola_, all who can swim! Follow me!"
And riding down the bank, he spurred into the water. Many were bold
enough to follow; and though some were drowned, the greater part made
the passage safely. Then the cowering, shivering mass left behind
without a leader, became an easy prey; and steadily, pitilessly,
silently, Hualpa and his people fought,--silently, for all the time he
was listening for a woman's voice, the voice of his beloved.
And now, fast riding, Cortes came to the second canal, with some
cavaliers whom he rallied on the way; behind him, as if in pursuit, so
madly did they run, followed all of the central division who succeeded
in passing the bridge. The sick and wounded, the prisoners, even king
Cacama and the women, abandoned by their escort, were slain and
captured,--all save Marina, rescued by some Tlascalans, and a Spanish
Amazon, who defended herself with sword and shield.
At points along the line of flight the infidels intercepted the
fugitives. Many terrible combats ensued. When the Christians kept in
groups, as did most of the veterans, they generally beat off the
assailants. The loss fell chiefly upon the Tlascalans, the cross-bowmen,
and arquebusiers, whose arms the rain had ruined, and the recruits of
Narvaez, who, weighted down by their treasure and overcome by fear, ran
blindly along, and fell almost without resistance.
One great effort Cortes made at the canal to restore order before the
mob could come up.
"God help us!" he cried at last to the gentlemen with him. "Here are
bowmen and gunners without arms, and horsemen without room to charge.
Nothing now but to save ourselves! And that we may not do, if we wait.
Let us follow Sandoval. Hearken to the howling! How fast they come! And
by my conscience, with them they bring the lake alive with fiends!
Olmedo, thou with me! Come, Morla, Avila, Olid! Come, all who care for
life!"
And through the _mêlée_ they pushed, through the murderous lancers, down
the bank,--Cortes first, and good knights on the right and left of the
father. There was plunging and floundering of horses, and yells of
infidels, and the sound of deadly blows, and from the swimmers shrieks
for help, now to comrades, now to saints, now to Christ.
"Ho, Sandoval, right glad am I to find thee!" said Cortes, on the
further side of the canal. "Why waitest thou?"
"For the coming of the bridge, Señor."
"_Bastante!_ Take what thou hast, and gallop to the next canal. I will
do thy part here."
And dripping from the plunge in the lake, chilled by the calamity more
than by the chill wind, and careless of the stones and arrows that
hurtled about him, he faced the fight, and waited, saying simply,--"O
good Mother, hasten Magarino!"
Never prayer more hearty, never prayer more needed! For the central
division had passed, and Alvarado had come and gone, and down the
causeway to the city no voice of Christian was to be heard; at hand,
only the infidels with their melancholy cry, of unknown import, "_O, O
luilones! O, O luilones!_" Then Magarino summoned his Tlascalans and
Christians to raise the bridge. How many of them had died the death of
the faithful, how many had basely fled, he knew not; the darkness
covered the glory as well as the shame. To work he went. And what
sickness of the spirit, what agony ineffable seized him! The platform
was too fast fixed in the rocks to be moved! Awhile he fought, awhile
toiled, awhile prayed; all without avail. In his ears lingered the
parting words of Cortes, and he stayed though his hope was gone. Every
moment added to the dead and wounded around him, yet he stayed. He was
the dependence of the army: how could he leave the bridge? His men
deserted him; at last he was almost alone; before him was a warrior
whose shield when struck gave back the ring of iron, and whose blows
came with the weight of iron; while around closer and closer circled the
white uniforms of the infidels; then he cried,--
"God's curse upon the bridge! What mortals can, my men, we have done to
save it; enough now, if we save ourselves!"
And drawn by the great law, supreme in times of such peril, they came
together, and retired across the bridge.
Then rose the cry, "_Todo es perdido!_ All is lost! The bridge cannot be
raised!" And along the causeway from mouth to mouth the warning flew, of
such dolorous effect as not merely to unman all who heard it, but to
take from them the instincts to which life so painfully intrusts itself
when there is no judgment left. Those defending themselves quitted
fighting, and turned to fly; except the gold, which they clutched all
the closer, many flung away everything that impeded them, even the
arquebuses, so precious in Cortes' eyes; guns dragged safely so far were
rolled into the lake or left on the road; the horses caught the
contagion, and, becoming unmanageable, ran madly upon the footmen.
When the cry, outflying the fugitives with whom it began, reached the
thousands at the second canal, it had somewhere borrowed a phrase yet
more demoralizing. "The bridge cannot be raised! All is lost! _Save
yourselves, save yourselves!_" Such was its form there. And about that
time, as ill-fortune ordered, the infidels had gathered around the fatal
place until, by their yells and missiles there seemed to be myriads of
them. Along the causeway their canoes lay wedged in, like a great raft;
and bolder grown, they flung themselves bodily on the unfortunates, and
strove to carry them off alive. Enough if they dragged them down the
slope,--innumerable hands were ready at the water's edge to take them
speedily beyond rescue. Momentarily, also, the yell of the fighting men
of Tenochtitlan, surging from the city under the 'tzin, drew nearer and
nearer, driving the rear upon the front, already on the verge of the
canal with barely room for defense against Hualpa and his people. All
that held the sufferers passive, all that gave them endurance, the
virtue rarer and greater than patience, was the hope of the coming of
Magarino; and the announcement, at last, that the bridge could not be
raised, was as the voice of doom over their heads. Instantly, they saw
death behind them, and life nowhere but forward,--so always with panic.
An impulse moved them,--they rushed on, they pushed each with the might
of despair. "Save yourselves, save yourselves!" they screamed, at the
same time no one thought of any but himself.
To make the scene clear to the reader, he should remember that the
causeway was but eight yards across its superior slope; while the canal,
about as wide, and crossing at right angles, was on both sides walled
with dressed masonry to the height, probably, of twelve feet, with,
water at least deep enough to drown a horse. Ordinarily, the peril of
the passage would have been scorned by a stout swimmer; but, alas! such
were not all who must make the attempt now.
The first victims of the movement I have described were those in the
front fighting Hualpa. No time for preparation: with shields on their
arms, if footmen, on their horses, if riders,--a struggle on the verge,
a cry for pity, a despairing shriek, and into the yawning chasm they
were plunged; nor had the water time to close above their heads before
as many others were dashed in upon them.
Cortes, on the further side, could only hear what took place in the
canal, for the darkness hid it from view; yet he knew that at his feet
was a struggle for life impossible to be imagined except as something
that might happen in the heart of the vortex left by a ship foundering
at sea. The screams, groans, prayers, and execrations of men; the
neighing, snorting, and plunging of horses; the bubbling, hissing, and
plashing of water; the writhing and fighting,--a wretch a moment risen,
in a moment gone, his death-cry half uttered; the rolling of the mass,
or rather its impulsion onward, which, horrible to think, might be the
fast filling up of the passage; now and then a piteous appeal for help
under the wall, reached at last (and by what mighty exertion!) only to
mock the hopes of the swimmers,--all this Cortes heard, and more. No
need of light to make the scene visible; no need to see the dying and
the drowning, or the last look of eyes fixed upon him as they went down,
a look as likely to be a curse as a prayer! If never before or never
again, his courage failed him then; and turning his horse he fled the
place, shouting as he went,--
"_Todo es perdido!_ all is lost! Save yourselves, save yourselves!"
And in his absence the horror continued,--continued until the canal from
side to side was filled with the bodies of men and horses, blent with
arms and ensigns, baggage, and guns, and gun-carriages, and munitions in
boxes and carts,--the rich plunder of the empire, royal fifth as well as
humbler dividend,--and all the paraphernalia of armies, infidel and
Christian; filled, until most of those who escaped clambered over the
warm and writhing heap of what had so lately been friends and comrades.
And the gods of the heathen were not forgotten by their children; for
sufferers there were who, snatching at hands offered in help, were
dragged into canoes, and never heard of more. Tears and prayers and the
saving grace of the Holy Mother and Son for them! Better death in the
canal, however dreadful, than death in the temples,--for the soul's
rest, better!
Slowly along the causeway, meantime, Alvarado toiled with the
rear-guard. Very early he had given up Leon and Mesa, and all with them,
as lost. And to say truth, little time had he to think of them; for now,
indeed, he found the duties of lover and soldier difficult as they had
been pleasant. Gay of spirit, boastful but not less generous and brave,
skilful and reckless, he was of the kind to attract and dazzle the
adventurers with whom he had cast his lot; and now they were ready to do
his bidding, and equally ready to share his fate, life or death. Of them
he constituted a body-guard for Nenetzin. Rough riders were they, yet
around her they formed, more careful of her than themselves; against
them rattled and rang the stones and arrows; against them dashed the
infidels landed from their canoes; sometimes a cry announced a hurt,
sometimes a fall announced a death; but never hand of foe or flying
missile reached the curtained carriage in which rode the little
princess.
Nor can it be said that Alvarado, so careful as lover, failed his duty
as captain. Sometimes at the rear, facing the 'tzin; sometimes, with a
laugh or a kiss of the hand, by the palanquin; and always his cry,
blasphemous yet cheerful. "_Viva á Christo! Viva Santa Cruz! Santiago,
Santiago!_" So from mistress and men he kept off the evil bird Fear. The
stout mare Bradamante gave him most concern; she obeyed
willingly,--indeed, seemed better when in action; yet was restless and
uneasy, and tossed her head, and--unpardonable as a habit in the horse
of a soldier--cried for company.
"So-a, girl!" he would say, as never doubting that she understood him.
"What seest thou that I do not? or is it what thou hearest? Fear! If one
did but say to me that thou wert cowardly, better for him that he spoke
ill of my mother! But here they come again! Upon them now! Upon them,
sweetheart! _Viva á Christo! Viva la Santa Cruz!_"
And so, fighting, he crossed the bridge; and still all went well with
him. Out of the way he chased the foe; on the flanks they were beaten
off; only at the rear were they troublesome, for there the 'tzin led the
pursuit.
Finally, the rear-guard closed upon the central division, which, having
reached the second canal, stood, in what condition we have seen, waiting
for Magarino. Then Alvarado hurried to the palanquin; and while there,
now checking Bradamante, whose uneasiness seemed to increase as they
advanced, now cheering Nenetzin, he heard the fatal cry proclaiming the
loss of the bridge. On his lips the jest faded, in his heart the blood
stood still. A hundred voices took up the cry, and there was hurry and
alarm around him, and he felt the first pressure of the impulsive
movement forward. The warning was not lost:--
"_Ola_, my friends!" he said, at once aroused, "Hell's door of brass
hath been opened, and the devils are loose! Keep we together--"
As he spoke the pressure strengthened, and the crowd yelled "_Todo es
perdido!_ Save yourselves!"
Up went his visor, out rang his voice in fierce appeal,--
"Together let us bide, gentlemen. We are Spaniards, and in our saddles,
with swords and shields. The foe are the dogs who have bayed us so to
their cost for days and weeks. On the right and left, as ye are!
Remember, the woman we have here is a Christian; she hath broken the
bread and drunken the wine; her God is our God; and if we abandon her,
may he abandon us!"
Not a rider left his place. The division went to pieces, and rushed
forward, sweeping all before it except the palanquin; as a boat in a
current, that floated on,--fierce the current, yet placid the motion of
the boat. And nestled warm within, Nenetzin heard the tumult as
something terrible afar off.
And all the time Hualpa kept the fight by the canal. Hours passed. The
dead covered the slopes of the causeway; on the top they lay in heaps;
the canal choked with them; still the stream of enemies poured on
roaring and fighting. Over the horrible bridge he saw some Tlascalans
carry two women,--neither of them Nenetzin. Another woman came up and
crossed, but she had sword and shield, and used them, shrilly shouting
the war-cries of the strangers. Out towards the land the battle followed
the fugitives,--beyond the third canal even,--and everywhere victory!
Surely, the Aztecan gods had vindicated themselves; and for the 'tzin
there was glory immeasurable. But where was Nenetzin? where the hated
_Tonatiah_? Why came they not? In the intervals of the slaughter he
began to be shaken by visions of the laughing lips and dimpled cheeks of
the loved face out in the rain crushed by a hoof or a wheel. At other
times, when the awful chorus of the struggle swelled loudest, he fancied
he heard her voice in agony of fear and pain. Almost he regretted not
having sought her, instead of waiting as he had.
Near morning from the causeway toward the city he heard two
cries,--"_Al-a-lala!_" one, "_Viva á Christo!_" the other. Friend most
loved, foe most hated, woman most adored! How good the gods were to send
them! His spirit rose, all its strength returned.
Of his warriors, six were with the slain; the others he called together,
and said,--
"The 'tzin comes, and the _Tonatiah_. Now, O my friends, I claim your
service. But forget not, I charge you, forget not her of whom I spoke.
Harm her not. Be ready to follow me."
He waited until the guardians of the palanquin were close by,--until he
heard their horses' tread; then he shouted, "Now, O my countrymen! Be
the 'tzin's cry our cry! Follow me. _Al-a-lala, al-a-lala!_"
The rough riders faced the attack, thinking it a repetition of others
they had lightly turned aside on the way; but when their weapons glanced
from iron-faced shields, and they recognized the thrust of steel; when
their horses shrunk from the contact or staggered with mortal hurts, and
some of them fell down dying, then they gave way to a torrent of
exclamations so seasoned with holy names that they could be as well
taken for prayers as curses. Surprised, dismayed, retreating,--with
scarce room for defence and none for attack, still they struggled to
maintain themselves. Sharp the clangor of axes on shields, merciless the
thrust of the blades,--cry answered cry. Death to the horse, if he but
reared; to the rider death, if his horse but stumbled. Nevertheless,
step by step the patient Indian lover approached the palanquin. Then
that which had been as a living wall around the girl was broken. One of
her slaves fell down, struck by a stone. Her scream, though shrill with
sudden fear, was faint amid the discordances of storm and fight; yet two
of the combatants heard it, and rushed to the rescue. And now Hualpa's
hand was on the fallen carriage--happy moment! "_Viva á Christo!
Santiago, Santiago!_" thundered Alvarado. The exultant infidel looked
up: right over him, hiding the leaden sky,--a dark impending
danger,--reared Bradamante. He thrust quickly, and the blade on the
lance was true; with a cry, in its excess of agony almost human, the
mare reared, fell back, and died. As she fell, one foot, heavy with its
silver shoe, struck him to the ground; and would that were all!
"_Ola_, comrades!" cried Alvarado, upon his feet again, to some horsemen
dismounted like himself. "Look! the girl is dying! Help me! as ye hope
for life, stay and help me!"
They laid hold of the mare, and rolled her away. The morning light
rested upon the place feebly, as if afraid of its own revelations. On
the causeway, in the lake, in the canal, were many horrors to melt a
heart of stone; one fixed Alvarado's gaze,--
"Dead! she is dead!" he said, falling upon his knees, and covering his
eyes with his hands, "O mother of Christ! What have I done that this
should befall me?"
Under the palanquin,--its roof of aromatic cedar, thin as tortoise
shell, and its frame of bamboo, light as the cane of the maize, all a
heap of fragments now,--under the wreck lay Nenetzin. About her head the
blue curtains of the carriage were wrapped in accidental folds, making
the pallor of the face more pallid; the lips so given to laughter were
dark with flowing blood; and the eyes had looked their love the last
time; one little hand rested palm upward upon the head of a dead
warrior, and in it shone the iron cross of Christ. Bradamante had
crushed her to death! And this, the crowning horror of the melancholy
night, was what the good mare saw on the way that her master did
not,--so the master ever after believed.
The pain of grief was new to the good captain; while yet it so overcame
him, a man laid a hand roughly on his shoulder, and said,--
"Look thou, Señor! She is in Paradise, while of those who, at thy call,
stayed to help thee save her but seven are left. If not thyself, up and
help us!"
The justice of the rude appeal aroused him, and he retook his sword and
shield, and joined in the fight,--eight against the many. About them
closed the lancers; facing whom one by one the brave men died, until
only Alvarado remained. Over the clashing of arms then rang the 'tzin's
voice,--
"It is the _Tonatiah_! Take him, O my children, but harm him not; his
life belongs to the gods!"
Fortunately for Alvarado a swell of Christian war-cries and the beat of
galloping horses came, about the same time, from the further side of the
canal to distract the attention of his foemen. Immediately Cortes
appeared, with Sandoval, Morla, Avila, and others,--brave gentlemen come
back from the land, which they had safely gained, to save whom they
might of the rear-guard. At the dread passage all of them drew rein
except Morla; down the slope of the dyke he rode, and spurring into the
lake, through the canoes and floating _débris_, he headed to save his
friend. Useless the gallantry! The assault upon Alvarado had
ceased,--with what purpose he knew. Never should they take him alive!
Hualpa's lance, of great length, was lying at his feet. Suddenly,
casting away his sword and shield, he snatched up his enemy's weapon,
broke the ring that girdled him, ran to the edge of the canal, and
vaulted in air. Loud the cry of the Christians, louder that of the
infidels! An instant he seemed to halt in his flight; an instant more,
and his famous feat was performed,--the chasm was cleared, and he stood
amongst his people saved.
Alas for Morla! An infidel sprang down the dike, and by running and
leaping from canoe to canoe overtook him while in the lake.
"Sword and shield, Señor Francisco! Sword and shield! Look! The foe is
upon thee!"
So he was warned; but quick the action. First, a blow with a Christian
axe: down sank the horse; then a blow upon the helmet, and the wave that
swallowed the steed received the rider also.
"_Al-a-lala!_" shouted the victor.
"The 'tzin, the 'tzin!" answered his people; and forward they sprang,
over the canoes, over the bridge of the dead,--forward to get at their
hated enemies again.
"Welcome art thou!" said Cortes to Alvarado. "Welcome as from the grave,
whither Morla--God rest his soul!--hath gone. Where is Leon?"
"With Morla," answered the captain.
"And Mesa?"
"Nay, Señor Hernan, if thou stayest here for any of the rear-guard, know
that I am the last of them."
"_Bastante!_ Hear ye, gentlemen?" said Cortes. "Our duty is done. Let us
to the land again. Here is my foot, here my hand: mount, captain, and
quickly!"
Alvarado took the seat offered behind Cortes, and the party set out in
retreat again. Closely, across the third canal, along the causeway to
the village of Popotla, the 'tzin kept the pursuit. From the village,
and from Tlacopan the city, he drove the bleeding and bewildered
fugitives. At last they took possession of a temple, from which, as
from a fortress, they successfully defended themselves. Then the 'tzin
gave over, and returned to the capital.
And his return was as the savior of his country,--the victorious
companies behind him, the great flotillas on his right and left, and the
clouds overhead rent by the sounding of conchs and tambours and the
singing and shouting of the proud and happy people.
Fast throbbed his heart, for now he knew, if the crown were not indeed
his, its prestige and power were; and amidst fast-coming schemes for the
restoration of the empire, he thought of the noble Tula, and then,--he
halted suddenly:--
"Where is the lord Hualpa?" he asked.
"At the second canal," answered a cacique.
"And he is--"
"Dead!"
The proud head drooped, and the hero forgot his greatness and his
dreams; he was the loving friend again, and as such, sorrowing and
silent, repassed the second canal, and stood upon the causeway beyond.
And the people, with quick understanding of what he sought, made way for
him. Over the wrecks of the battle,--sword and shield, helm and
breastplate, men and horses,--he walked to where the lover and his
beloved lay.
At sight of her face, more childlike and beautiful than ever, memory
brought to him the sad look, the low voice, and the last words of
Hualpa,--"If I come not with the rising sun to-morrow, Nenetzin can tell
you my story,"--such were the words. The iron cross was yet in her hand,
and the hand yet rested on the head of a warrior lying near. The 'tzin
stooped, and turned the dead man over, and lo! the lord Hualpa. From one
to the other the princely mourner looked; a mist, not of the lake or the
cloud, rose and hid them from his view; he turned away,--_she had told
him all the story_.
In a canoe, side by side, the two victims were borne to the city, never
to be separated. At Chapultepec they were laid in the same tomb; so that
one day the dust of the hunter, with that of kings, may feed the grass
and color the flowers of the royal hill.
HE HAD FOUND HIS FORTUNE!
* * * * *
Here the chronicles of the learned Don Fernando abruptly terminate. For
the satisfaction of the reader, a professional story-teller would no
doubt have devoted several pages to the careers of some of the
characters whom he leaves surviving the catastrophe. The translator is
not disposed to think his author less courteous than literators
generally; on the contrary, the books abound with evidences of the
tender regard he had for those who might chance to occupy themselves
with his pages; consequently, there must have been a reason for the
apparent neglect in question.
If the worthy gentleman were alive, and the objection made to him in
person, he would most likely have replied: "Gentle critic, what you take
for neglect was but a compliment to your intelligence. The characters
with which I dealt were for the most part furnished me by history. The
few of my own creation were exclusively heathen, and of them, except the
lord Maxtla and Xoli, the Chalcan, disposition is made in one part or
another of the story. The two survivors named, it is to be supposed,
were submerged in the ruin that fell upon the country after the conquest
was finally completed. The other personages being real, for perfect
satisfaction as to them, permit me, with the profoundest respect, to
refer you to your histories again."
The translator has nothing to add to the explanation except brief
mention that the king Cuitlahua's reign lasted but two months in all.
The small-pox, which desolated the city and valley, and contributed,
more than any other cause, to the ultimate overthrow of the empire, sent
him to the tombs of Chapultepec. Guatamozin then took the vacant throne,
and as king exemplified still further the qualities which had made him
already the idol of his people and the hero of his race. Some time also,
but whether before or after his coronation we are not told, he married
the noble Tula,--an event which will leave the readers of the excellent
Don Fernando in doubt whether Mualox, the paba, was not more prophet
than monomaniac.
FOOTNOTES:
[53] Bernal Diaz, Hist. de la Conq.
Transcriber's Notes
There were a number of issues in the original text, including obvious
printer's errors, or those due to the condition of the text itself,
especially on the margins.
Where the issue is very clear, they have been corrected here. Many
hyphenation characters on the right margin are illegible, and those
words have been joined here--unless the hyphen itself appears in the
same word elsewhere in the text.
In general, punctuation errors, especially those involving single or
double quotation marks, were quite frequent, and in the interest of
keeping the narrative flowing, they have been corrected. The use
of the single quotation as a abbreviating mark in proper names (e.g.
"Huitzil'")seems to have confused the printer more than once when
other punctuation directly follows, on pp. 135, 509, and 525.
There were several questionable spelling issues (e.g., "beseiged",
"rodoubted") which were retained. The name "Cortez" (vs. "Cortes")
appears only in the table of contents. "'Hualpilli" appears once as
"'Huapill".
Some compound words appear both with and without hyphens. Where the
hyphenation occurs at a line break, the hyphen is retained (or removed)
if there are other mid-line examples.
The following list contains the details of corrections made to the text
or spelling variants to be noted.
p. 13 the moment of reply wa[s] allowed to pass Added.
p. 28 his canoe wil[l] be full of blessings Added.
p. 35 Look well to this, O king[.] Added. May have
been '!'.
p. 40 and the time is very quiet[.] Added.
p. 54 [F]ail me not, my children. Added.
p. 91 I promised I[tz/zt]lil' Reversed.
p. 109 I am told you wish to enter my service[.] Added.
p. 143 [t]he glinting of the jewels Added.
p. 157 Temple over many chambers.["] Removed.
p. 178 he is not a trai[tor.]" Added.
p. 202 nor on what grounds[.] Added.
p. 236 ["/']Come, the victim is ready!["/'] Should have been
single quotes.
p. 241 "That is Diaz's [massage]." Sic.
p. 290 Alvarado continued[./,] "which I could Added.
p. 302 in trust for the god.['] Added.
p. 311 and all things else yet undiscovered.["] Added.
p. 334 Go with them, I pray you.['/"] Corrected.
p. 341 The hours were long[.] Added.
p. 342 What wonder that I fled?["] Added.
p. 402 To the Mother the praise!['\"] Corrected.
p. 406 has been toilsome and dreadful[.] Ah me,
I shudder at the thought!["] Added.
"Have you never been elsewhere[?]" Added.
have they been denied you, poor girl?["] Added.
p. 488 Yonder is the temple we seek[.] Added.
p. 499 "_Al templo! Adelante, adelante!_--forward!["]
Added.
p. 500 to the palace, the palace!["] Added.
p. 504 Then the [']tzin, recalled to himself Added.
p. 512 The footnote reference for #49 was missing. Added.
p. 513 and all the saints!["] Added.
p. 537 If he fail--if he fail--["] Added.
p. 543 and gave himself to sombre thought[.] Added.
p. 552 What didst thou?["] Added.