THE WHITE CONQUERORS
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| BOOKS BY KIRK MUNROE |
| PUBLISHED BY |
| CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS |
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| A SON OF SATSUMA |
| Illustrated. 12mo _net_ $1.00 |
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| BRETHREN OF THE COAST |
| Illustrated. 12mo 1.25 |
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| MIDSHIPMAN STUART |
| Illustrated. 12mo 1.25 |
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| IN PIRATE WATERS |
| Illustrated. 12mo 1.25 |
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| WHITE CONQUEROR SERIES |
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| WITH CROCKETT AND BOWIE |
| Illustrated. 12mo 1.25 |
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| THROUGH SWAMP AND GLADE |
| Illustrated. 12mo 1.25 |
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| AT WAR WITH PONTIAC |
| Illustrated. 12mo 1.25 |
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| THE WHITE CONQUERORS |
| Illustrated. 12mo 1.25 |
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| _The Set, 4 volumes, in a box, $5.00_ |
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[Illustration: I WILL NEVER FORGET.
_Page 16._
]
THE WHITE CONQUERORS
_A TALE OF TOLTEC AND AZTEC_
BY
KIRK MUNROE
AUTHOR OF "WAKULLA," "THE FLAMINGO FEATHER," "DERRICK STERLING,"
"THE GOLDEN DAYS OF '49," THE "MATE" SERIES, ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED BY W. S. STACEY_
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1908
COPYRIGHT, 1893, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
[Illustration]
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A CAPTIVE WARRIOR, 1
II. "REMEMBER THAT THOU ART A TOLTEC!" 9
III. IN THE MARKET-PLACE OF TENOCHTITLAN, 17
IV. TLAHUICOL'S LAST BATTLE, 25
V. HUETZIN'S MIRACULOUS ESCAPE, 33
VI. TWO SLAVES OF IZTAPALAPAN, 41
VII. LOYALTY OUTWEIGHS GOLD AND FREEDOM, 48
VIII. TRAPPING A KING'S COURIER, 56
IX. WHO ARE THE WHITE CONQUERORS? 64
X. THE SIGN OF THE GOD OF THE FOUR WINDS, 73
XI. HOW THE TLASCALANS FOUGHT, 82
XII. A SON OF THE HOUSE OF TITCALA, 90
XIII. HOW PEACE WAS BROUGHT ABOUT, 99
XIV. A CHALLENGE AND ITS RESULT, 108
XV. MARCHING ON CHOLULA, 116
XVI. A SACRIFICE OF CHILDREN AND WHAT IT PORTENDED, 125
XVII. PUNISHMENT OF THE CONSPIRATORS, 133
XVIII. FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE MEXICAN VALLEY, 141
XIX. MONTEZUMA WELCOMES THE CONQUERORS TO TENOCHTITLAN, 149
XX. HUETZIN IN THE POWER OF THE CHIEF PRIEST, 158
XXI. A SUPERSTITIOUS KING, 166
XXII. SANDOVAL PLIGHTS HIS TROTH, 174
XXIII. IN THE PASSAGES BENEATH THE TEMPLE, 182
XXIV. MONTEZUMA IS MADE PRISONER, 190
XXV. CORTES CAPTURES AND ENLISTS THE ARMY OF HIS RIVAL, 198
XXVI. TIATA'S BRAVE DEATH AND SANDOVAL'S GRIEF, 206
XXVII. THE CONQUERORS ARE BESIEGED IN THEIR QUARTERS, 213
XXVIII. A BATTLE IN MID-AIR, 221
XXIX. THE GLORIOUS TRIUMPH OF TLALCO, 228
XXX. MONTEZUMA'S SUCCESSOR DEFIES THE CONQUERORS, 236
XXXI. THE RETREAT FROM TENOCHTITLAN, 244
XXXII. A NIGHT OF FIGHTING, DESPAIR, AND DEATH, 253
XXXIII. MARINA IS LOST AND SAVED, 261
XXXIV. SORROW TURNED INTO JOY, AND DARKNESS INTO LIGHT, 270
XXXV. THE DESPERATE BATTLE OF OTAMPAN, 278
XXXVI. VICTORY SNATCHED FROM DEFEAT, 286
XXXVII. ONCE MORE IN THE MEXICAN VALLEY, 293
XXXVIII. LAUNCHING THE FIRST AMERICAN WARSHIPS, 302
XXXIX. ALDERETE'S FATAL ERROR, 310
XL. FINAL OVERTHROW OF THE AZTEC GODS, 319
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
I WILL NEVER FORGET, _Frontispiece_
HUETZIN WASTED NO TIME, 62
THE BLIND CHIEFTAIN PLACED HIS HANDS, ETC., 122
THE FIGURE OF TOPIL THE CHIEF PRIEST, 170
SANDOVAL MEETS TIATA, 176
SANDOVAL PULLED UP HIS HEAD, 236
MARINA IS SAVED BY THE TLASCALA SLAVES, 268
THIS THEY DRAGGED FROM ITS PEDESTAL, 310
THE WHITE CONQUERORS:
A TALE OF TOLTEC AND AZTEC
CHAPTER I.
A CAPTIVE WARRIOR
Night had fallen on the island-city of Tenochtitlan, the capital of
Anahuac, and the splendid metropolis of the Western world. The evening
air was heavy with the scent of myriads of flowers which the Aztec
people loved so well, and which their religion bade them cultivate in
lavish profusion. From every quarter came the sounds of feasting, of
laughter, and of music. The numerous canals of salt-water from the
broad lake that washed the foundations of the city on all sides, were
alive with darting canoes filled with gay parties of light-hearted
revellers. In each canoe burned a torch of sweet-scented wood,
that danced and flickered with the motions of the frail craft, its
reflection broken by the ripples from hundreds of dipping paddles. Even
far out on the placid bosom of the lake, amid the fairy-like chinampas,
or tiny floating islands, the twinkling canoe-lights flitted like
gorgeous fire-flies, paling the silver reflection of the stars with
their more ruddy glow.
In the streets of the city the dancing feet of flower-wreathed youths
and maidens tripped noiselessly over the smooth cemented pavements;
while their elders watched them, with approving smiles, from their
curtained doorways, or the flat flower-gardened roofs, of their houses.
Above all these scenes of peaceful merriment rose the gloomy pyramids
of many temples, ever-present reminders of the cruel and bloody
religion with which the whole fair land was cursed.
Before the hideous idols, to which each of these was consecrated, lay
offerings of human hearts, torn from the living bodies of that day's
victims, and from the summit of each streamed the lurid flames of
never-dying altar fires. By night and day they burned, supplied with
fuel by an army of slaves who brought it on their backs over the long
causeways that connected the island-city with the mainland and its
distant forests. These pillars of smoke by day, and ill-omened banners
of flame by night, were regarded with fear and hatred by many a dweller
in the mountains surrounding the Mexican valley. They were the symbols
of a power against which these had struggled in vain, of a tyranny so
oppressive that it not only devoted them to lives of toil, hopeless of
reward, but to deaths of ignominy and torture whenever fresh victims
were demanded for its reeking altars. But while hatred thus burned,
fierce and deep-seated, none dared openly to express it, for the
power of the all-conquering Aztec was supreme. Far across the lofty
mountains, to the great Mexican Gulf on the east, and westward to the
broad Pacific; from the parched deserts of the cliff-dwelling tribes on
the north, to the impenetrable Mayan forests on the south, the Aztec
sway extended, and none might withstand the Aztec arms. If the imperial
city demanded tribute it must be promptly given, though nakedness
and hunger should result. If its priests demanded victims for their
blood-stained altars, these must be yielded without a murmur, that the
lives of whole tribes might not be sacrificed. Only one little mountain
republic still held out, and defied the armies of the Aztec king, but
of it we shall learn more hereafter.
So the mighty city of the lake drew to itself the best of all things
from all quarters of the Western world, and was filled to overflowing
with the wealth of conquered peoples. Hither came all the gold and
silver and precious stones, the richest fabrics, and the first-fruits
of the soil. To its markets were driven long caravans of slaves,
captured from distant provinces, and condemned to perform such menial
tasks as the haughty Aztec disdained to undertake.
During the brilliant reign of the last Montezuma, the royal city
attained the summit of its greatness, and defied the world. Blinded
by the glitter of its conquests, and secure in the protection of its
invincible gods, it feared naught in the future, for what enemy could
harm it?
The evening with which this story opens was one of unusual rejoicing
in Tenochtitlan, for the morrow was to mark one of the most notable
events of Montezuma's reign. The great Aztec calendar stone, the result
of years of ceaseless labor, had at length reached the inner court
of the principal temple. On the following day it was to be bathed in
the blood of victims, and dedicated by the priests. This huge mass of
shining porphyry, weighing more than fifty tons, and quarried from the
distant mountains beyond the lake of Chalco, had been subjected to the
unremitting labors of the most famous astronomers and skilled artisans
for so long, that the king had almost despaired of living to witness
its completion. Finally, polished like a mirror and cunningly engraved
with a countless but orderly array of hieroglyphics, it started on
its journey to the city, drawn by the united efforts of ten thousand
slaves. Inch by inch, slowly and painfully, costing a thousand lives
for every mile of progress, it traversed leagues of rugged country.
Even on the great causeway, when it had nearly reached its destination,
where the iron-wood rollers ran smoothly and all difficulties seemed
at an end, it had broken through a bridge and plunged into the lake,
crushing a score of human beings beneath it. With infinite toil and
human suffering it had been recovered from the waters, and, as the
straining slaves cringed under the biting lashes of their drivers, its
triumphal progress was resumed.
At length the huge stone had reached the end of its weary journey, and
the morrow was to witness the closing scenes of this great national
undertaking. The feasting had already been kept up for a week, or ever
since the mighty monolith entered the city. Scores of victims had
been sacrificed on the temple altars to insure the favor of the gods
during those last days of its progress. But all this was as nothing
compared with what would be witnessed on the morrow. For that day
the bravest warriors taken in battle had been reserved, and the most
beautiful captives. The former would be made to fight against each
other under false promises that the lives of the victors should be
spared. The latter--handsome youths, delicate maidens, and even little
children--would dance a dance of death with wild beasts and deadly
serpents, many cages of which had been brought from distant parts for
the purpose. Oh! it was truly to be a rare and enjoyable festival,
and the hearts of the dwellers in Tenochtitlan thrilled high in
anticipation of its pleasures.
And yet, despite the universal joy that reigned in every quarter of
the crowded city, it contained at least two hearts that were heavy
with the forebodings of sorrow. One was that of its mighty ruler, the
priest-warrior, Montezuma, and the other beat in the breast of one even
more redoubtable as a warrior than the king himself, who, as a captive,
was destined to fight for his life against overwhelming odds on the
morrow.
In all that land of warriors there was none so famed as Tlahuicol.
To all men he was known as the Tlascalan; but ever to himself and
to Huetzin, his son, he whispered that he was Tlahuicol the Toltec.
For years he had been the dreaded war-chief of the dauntless little
mountain republic of Tlascala, which, alone of all those now occupying
the land of Anahuac, had resisted the all-conquering Aztec arms, and
retained its freedom. In spite of this he was not a Tlascalan, but
had joined them in one of their times of sorest need, when it seemed
as though their surrender to the swarming legions of Montezuma was
inevitable. Their army had been defeated, its leaders killed or taken
captive, and another day must have witnessed the overthrow of the
republic. That night Tlahuicol appeared among them, a young warrior
in the first flush of manhood, and addressed them with such fervid
eloquence that their sinking spirits were again inflamed, and they
gathered courage for one more desperate effort.
In the morning the young stranger led them to an attack against the
Aztecs, whose vigilance was relaxed in anticipation of an easy triumph
over their enemies. So marvellous was his strength, so admirable his
skill, and so reckless his bravery, that the signal victory gained
by the Tlascalans that day was afterward said to have been won by
Tlahuicol alone. In their excess of gratitude and admiration his brave,
but superstitious, followers hailed him as a god, declaring that never
in mortal were combined the qualities shown by him that day. From that
time forth the fortunes of this stranger were linked with those of the
Tlascalans, and all the honors at the disposal of the simple republic
were showered upon him. The position of war-chief was accorded to him
without question, and for more than a score of years he led his hardy
mountaineers to victory in every battle that they fought against the
cruel Aztecs. Very early in his new career he was wedded to a beautiful
Tlascalan maiden, an only daughter of the noble house of Titcala, the
chief of which was the acknowledged head of the republic. The fruits of
this marriage were two children: Huetzin, who inherited his father's
indomitable bravery, and Tiata, who, even as a child, gave promise that
all of her mother's great beauty was to be hers.
As the years rolled on Tlahuicol lost none of his popularity with his
troops nor with the people at large; only with the priests was he ever
at enmity. He abhorred their bloody human sacrifices, and strove by
every means in his power to have them abated. In return, the priests
continually strove for his overthrow and to wean the affections of
his soldiers from him. For many years their efforts were in vain, but
finally their subtle craft gained them a few malcontent adherents.
In the very heat of a fierce battle with an Aztec army, commanded by
Montezuma in person, a cowardly blow, struck from behind, stretched
the Tlascalan war-chief senseless on the ground. When he recovered
consciousness he was a prisoner and being hurried toward the Aztec
capital. Thither his devoted wife and her children followed him,
resigning themselves to a willing captivity, that might even result in
death, for the sake of sharing his fortunes.
For more than a year, though every avenue of escape was closely
guarded, the noble prisoner was treated with the utmost consideration,
and every effort was made to induce him to renounce his allegiance
to Tlascala. Honors and riches were promised him if he would devote
his sword to the service of the Aztec monarch; but every offer was
disdainfully refused, and at length Montezuma reluctantly yielded to
the cruel clamor of the priests, and condemned him to sacrifice.