_ON THE ROAD TO MEXICO._
Such magnificent and royal gifts of gold and silver, of precious stones
and precious stuffs, of birds and animals, of jeweller's work and the
marvellous feather work, feather fans and feather tapestries, costly
shields and beautiful embroidery, had been forwarded, by the hands
of ambassadors, from the Emperor of Mexico to the Spanish camp, that
the Spaniards, from Cortes down to the meanest soldier, had the most
exalted ideas of the wealth and power of the new-found empire.
"For my part," remarked Juan de Cabrera one day during the march--"for
my part, I have serious thoughts of giving up the worn-out old country,
and setting up my tent for the future in this new fairy-land. Gold and
fruit and flowers, and food for the trouble of accepting it, are things
just suited to my quiet tastes."
Montoro laughed.
"Few of thy friends will doubt thy word for it, Juan. But how
about that promise to thy new, bright-eyed bride, the princess of
Cempoalla--that she should reign as the queen of beauty not long hence
in thine own old city of Madrid?"
"Umph!" ejaculated Cabrera with a slight shrug. "For the promise--well,
seest thou it was no vow, bound for honour's sake to be kept--nought
but a passing word to a woman. And since she hath me, I doubt not she
will have little care for aught else."
"Hearken to him, O ye birds!" cried Alvarado. "Thy vanity doth but
outdo thy faithlessness, thou black-crested cockatoo. But knowest thou,
I shall be fairly content, for my part, when we are indeed in Mexico's
great capital, Tenochtitlan; for I grow tired of this marching with
one's head watching all ways at once during the day, and taking sleep
at night like a dog, with one eye open."
"Ay, and worse than a dog--with one's hand on one's sword besides,"
added Cabrera.
Montoro raised his eyebrows as he looked from one to the other of his
companions.
"Think ye then, that once in the island city all your cares and
anxieties will be at an end?"
"If they do," put in Gonzalo de Sandoval, "I can tell them so thinks
not the General himself. Methinks, for all his assumption of cool
confidence, that his black locks grow something touched with grey of
late."
"And mine also," said Alvarado with a toss of his yellow locks. "But
from want of a siesta, and not from any dread of what these poor
helpless, red-skinned creatures are likely to do to us."
But even the bold Alvarado and the careless Cabrera felt, a few days
later, that confidence, and a feeling of security, were not much more
certain of acquirement in a town than amid the uncertain perils of
the high-way. Meantime their easy and bloodless victory at Cempoalla
had taught both officers and men, for the most part, a good-natured
contempt for the natives; and this sentiment was increased by the
friendliness hitherto shown them on their route, whenever they were
able to come fairly to speech with the Indians.
Alvarado and Cabrera in particular might be pardoned for their
impatience, at what they considered something of overmuch watchfulness,
for the sunny hair and blue eyes of the one, and the merry face of the
other, had hitherto won them smiles and Benjamin's portions from all
they met.
However, even before entering a town, the various members of that small
army were to learn that their General's prudence was wiser than their
own impatience of the discipline.
Between the territory of Cempoalla and Mexico lay the fine little
warlike, independent republic of Tlascala, governed by a council
elected by their tribes, and united by the strongest bonds of
patriotism, and mutual hatred to their powerful and aggressive
neighbour, the Emperor of Mexico.[8]
[Footnote 8: 'Hist. of America.'--Robertson.]
Fierce and revengeful, high-spirited and independent, Cortes decided,
as soon as he heard of them, that they were the very auxiliaries to
be desired in the contemplated conquest. For every step he now made
towards the heart of the great empire, gave him fresh evidence of what
an astoundingly bold thing he was doing, in adventuring himself and his
handful of enfeebled men in such a magnificent enterprise.
"But with some few thousands of these enemies of Mexico, these
Tlascalans," he said one evening towards the end of August, when a halt
had been called for the night--"with their aid at our back, Diego, we
shall go forward right merrily, methinks."
Montoro looked grave. To say truth, the many human sacrifices he had
witnessed of late, and the awfully numerous traces of others discovered
along the route, had caused some temporary wavering in his sympathies.
Just for the time he was not quite sure if he did not think his Spanish
sword would, after all, be well employed in slaying some of the
bloodthirsty beings who offered up, in sacrifices to their abominable
idols, girls and boys and little children, and then held ghastly
feastings on their flesh.
He had begun to feel a loathing indignation for these wretched
believers in a gross superstition, which made him a more welcome
confidant for Cortes than was usual. He was quite ready to have his
five hundred valiant Spanish companions reinforced by a few times that
number of the natives. But he had heard news from his interpreter,
during the day's march, that made him doubtful if such a reinforcement
were altogether so likely as the General appeared to think.
"What does thy face mean, Diego, since thy tongue says nought?" asked
Hernando Cortes after a few moments' silence. "Forgive me, but it looks
nigh as long as yon merry madcap Cabrera is wont to call it."
Montoro smiled slightly. But he grew earnest enough the next instant as
he said--
"Cortes, I fear me that thy face also will lengthen when I tell thee
that the Tlascalans are meditating war with us, I believe, rather than
peace."
"How sayest thou, Toro?" exclaimed that impetuous fellow, Velasquez
de Leon. "Sayest thou the rascals have a mind to feel the touch of a
good Toledo blade or two? I' faith, under those circumstances it is for
them, not us, to draw the long faces, so I warn them."
"And I warn you," said Cortes seriously, "that it is for both to do
so. But what is it that you have learnt, Diego? or rather, what reason
is given you for these worthy warriors' bad feeling? They are at such
enmity with the Mexicans, that one had some right, truly, to count with
confidence upon their friendship."
"And I fully believe would have also had it," was the reply, "had you
but given any proof that your sentiments towards this emperor bore any
likeness to their own. But--"
"Well?" came the rather impatient query; "but what? Although I have not
told the Mexicans themselves such things as should lead them to shut
their ways against us, I have let their foes know fairly well that I am
ready to aid all complainants to redress their wrongs."
"You have told them so, that is true," said Montoro, once more with a
slight smile. "The Tlascalans also admit so much; but, as they say with
some astuteness, your deeds are at variance with your words. You have
exchanged many valuable gifts with their powerful adversary, you have
entertained many of his ambassadors, and you now propose as a friend to
visit him in his capital."
"Moreover," put in Father Olmedo, "I learn from your own interpreter,
Doña Marina, that they hold us in terrible abhorrence for our hasty and
unexplained desecration of the altars of Cempoalla, a place with which
they are on terms of peace."
Cortes sprang to his feet angrily.
"That is the best deed I have performed in my life, and it shall
receive many a repetition. Preachments are no part of a soldier's
duties. It shall be mine to destroy the pollutions of the land; you,
father, can take the task of preaching it into purity with such suave
slowness as you please. Meantime, to put these rumours respecting those
Tlascalans yonder to the test. We will send an embassy forthwith to
demand a passage through their territories to Mexico."
"Send me," exclaimed Velasquez de Leon eagerly.
"And me," cried Juan de Cabrera, delighted at the prospect of real
action. He preferred using his arms to watching by them, and so did
most of his companions.
But Cortes was too politic to accept the offers. The number of his
fearless and trusty knights was small enough without risking the lives
of any of them needlessly. Some of the chief men among the Cempoallans
had accompanied the Spaniards on their march, and of these Cortes chose
out four, and sent them to their neighbours, charged with his amicable
demand.
Three or four days passed, and those messengers had not returned.
Matters began to look serious. Montoro, with his native interpreter,
and both in disguise, penetrated some distance one early morning into
the unknown dominions. They returned to the camp with the startling
intelligence that the ambassadors had been seized as traitors to their
country's cause, and renegades from the true faith, and were within a
short time to be sacrificed as peace-offerings to the insulted gods.
Instantly the whole camp was astir. The Cempoallans tremblingly anxious
to deliver their friends from the indignity of the fate awaiting them;
Cortes strongly determined that such a blot should not fall upon his
expedition, in the person of his allies.
There was no need to urge despatch in preparations. Each man of the
force, native and Spaniard alike, was burning to set forth against the
new foe. The foe was equally ready.
But amongst these strange people of the new world were some of the
sentiments supposed to belong wholly to the old world's chivalry.
Just as the army was about to set out from its quarters, on that
morning of the thirtieth of August, 1519, a long train of people was
observed approaching from the distance, bearing an ensign of peace.
Cortes called a halt of his own followers. He and Montoro de Diego,
and Father Olmedo, felt most thankful for the turn affairs appeared to
have taken, thus at the very twelfth hour. Alvarado and Velasquez, with
a good many of their like-minded comrades, it is true, were nothing at
all so well contented. They had been living on very short commons the
past few days, fare as meagre and unsatisfying as possible, and they
regarded the punishment of the unfriendly republicans as a probable
means of replenishing their scanty larders.
However, as it turned out, neither content nor discontent had any
present foundation. The Tlascalans had also, on their part, it was
true, sent an embassage, and a well-laden one. But, although the
messengers brought a good deal with them that was acceptable, a request
for peace was not one of the offerings.
As the train came near, it was discovered that abundant supplies of
food of all kinds were being brought to the half-famished little army.
But before they were presented, and to leave no doubt on the Spaniards'
minds as to the motives of the gift, one fierce, slim warrior advanced
before the company of food-bearers, and with a haughty, undaunted
bearing that extorted the respect even of his haughty hearers, he
exclaimed--
"See, poor starved-out creatures of a starved-out land, although we
refuse entrance to the impious enemies of our gods, we would not that
ye should think we grudge, or have need to grudge, you of the bounties
that your God, it seems, denies you.
"The Republic of Tlascala sends you food, and in abundance--meat and
bread. Eat, and be satisfied. The warriors of Tlascala scorn to attack
an enemy enfeebled with disease, faint with hunger. Victory over such
would be a vain one. We affront not our gods with famished victims,
neither do we deign to feast upon an emaciated prey."
"What a mercy for us," muttered that reckless Cabrera, "since your
noble disdain hath led you to feed us thus hospitably."
"For my part also," added Alvarado as quietly, "I would fain try if
food will give me back something of the strength of arm their blazing
sun hath robbed me of."
"You may well say blazing sun," ejaculated Velasquez de Leon, upon
whose excitable temperament the tremendous, continuous heat of the past
few weeks had had a peculiarly trying effect. Even the sight of the
food scarcely cheered his flagging spirits. Cabrera laid his hand on
his shoulder encouragingly.
"Cheer up, friend Leon; I will do the friendly part by thee, if thou
wilt, and offer thee up to that aggravating god of rain. Thy dignified
person may appease his angry, spiteful idol-ship."
Velasquez sighed.
"I feel well-nigh inclined, Juan, to give thee leave. I have more than
once of late had the thought that I would offer up myself."
But whatever might be the voluntarily-endured sufferings of the
Spaniards, they were light enough in comparison with those of the poor,
brave Tlascalans. Cortes accepted their food, and likewise accepted
their challenge, and the following day the two armies met to do
battle--the one to preserve its country from the presumptuous invaders'
tread, the other to make good its claim to advance where it chose.
Of the two armies decidedly the native one presented the most
magnificent and imposing appearance, not only for numbers, but for
array.
Far and wide, over a vast plain about six miles square, stretched the
enormous army. Nothing could be more picturesque than the appearance of
these Indian battalions, with the naked bodies of the common soldiers
gaudily painted with the colours of the chieftains whose banners they
followed, the splendidly attired chieftains themselves, with their
gleaming spears and darts, and the innumerable banners, on which were
emblazoned the armorial bearings of the great Tlascalan and Otomie
chiefs.
Amongst the most conspicuous of these gorgeous banners were the white
heron on the rock, the cognizance of the house of Xicotencatl, and the
golden eagle with outspread wings, richly ornamented with emeralds and
silver work, the great standard of the Republic of Tlascala.
The feather-mail of the more distinguished warriors, like the bodies
of their inferior companions, also indicated by the choice of colours
under whose orders they were more specially enrolled. The caciques
themselves, and their chief officers, were clothed in quilted cotton
tunics two inches thick, which, fitting close to the body, protected
also the thighs and the shoulders; over this garment were cuirasses of
thin gold or silver plate. Their legs were defended by leathern boots
or sandals trimmed with gold.
But the most brilliant portion of the costume was a rich mantle of
the Mexican feather work, embroidered with a skill and taste alike
wonderful. This picturesque dress was surmounted by a fantastic helmet
made of wood or leather, representing the head of some wild animal, and
frequently displaying a fierce set of teeth.
From the crown floated a splendid plume of rich feathers, indicating by
form and colour the rank and family of the wearer. The rest of their
armour consisted of shields of wood covered with leather, or of reeds
quilted with cotton, and all alike showily ornamented, and finished off
with a beautiful fringe of feather work.
Their weapons were slings, bows and arrows, javelins, and darts. And
for swords, a two-handed staff, about three and a half feet long, in
which at regular distances were inserted sharp blades of itztli--a
formidable weapon, with which they could fell a horse. They excelled in
throwing the javelin, and they were such expert archers that they could
discharge two and even three at a time.[9]
[Footnote 9: Hist. 'Conquest of Mexico.'--Prescott.]
And yet with all this, and with an almost superhuman courage besides,
the poor, noble republicans were conquered. They had not guns, they
had not horses, and they had no keen Toledo blades--those cruel blades
that cut their hands through to the bone when they grasped them, in
their desperate courage, to wrench them, if it might be, from their
adversaries' clasp.
And thus, after fourteen days of grand efforts to maintain their
hitherto unbroken freedom, and to preserve the soil of their country
from the invader's foot, the Tlascalans found themselves at length so
diminished in numbers, so broken in strength, and so utterly helpless
against the white-faces' wonderful animals and wonderful weapons, that
once more an embassage came from Tlascalan head-quarters to the Spanish
general.
Once more the stern-visaged Tlascalan warrior heralded a train of men
and Indian maidens, bearing various gifts to the invading force.
Even yet the brave redskin maintained his grave dignity of bearing, but
it was tempered now with a deep melancholy, as he exclaimed in tones of
heart-stirred grief--
"Behold, ye strange and invincible white-faces, our gods have warned
us now that to fight against ye is vain. Ye are few, and we are many;
but we are slain, and our sepulchres already overflow, while ye all
are still alive. We cannot fight against the gods, if such ye be, or
against the gods who fight for you."
"You say well," responded Cortes, solemnly. "It is our God and St. Jago
who fight for us, and through them we are as rocks to withstand the
assaults of all enemies. But if you come to ask for peace, you will
find us to be friends as staunch as we are resistless foes."
The warrior lifted his head proudly.
"We come to offer peace, and we bring gifts as signs of good-will. If
ye are, in very deed, fierce-tempered divinities, lo! we present to
you five slaves, that ye may drink their blood and eat their flesh.
If ye are mild deities, accept an offering of incense and variegated
plumes. For we are poor. We have little gold, or cotton, or salt; only,
hitherto, our freedom and our arms. If ye be but men of like nature
with ourselves, we bring you meat and bread and fruit to nourish you."
And they brought them far more besides than all that, for they brought
them strong fidelity, clever brains, and arms useful enough against
nations armed like themselves, and of no higher grade in the scale of
civilization.