PUNISHMENT OF THE CONSPIRATORS
Cortes had determined to anticipate the treachery of the Cholulans and
the meditated destruction of his army, by a punishment so terrible that
its effect should be felt throughout all Anahuac. He intended that a
wholesome dread of the white conquerors should be implanted in every
Aztec breast. By earliest dawn he was on horseback, perfecting his
arrangements for the coming tragedy. The musketeers and cross-bowmen
were placed close under the walls of the temple courtyard, and the
pikemen were stationed near the three entrances. Here, too, the
gunners, under command of Mesa, chief of artillery, renewed their
primings and blew their matches into a brighter glow. The cavalry,
headed by Cortes in person, was held in reserve to act as emergencies
should dictate.
At the same time, silent but active preparations were being made in
all parts of the city, though, of course, unseen by the Spaniards,
for their destruction. As every Cholulan to whom the secret was known
fondly hoped, the hour was at hand in which the boasted prowess of
these invaders should come to naught and they should be sacrificed to
the wrath of the Aztec gods. Everywhere the exulting natives swarmed
to the housetops along the designated line of march, and stationed
themselves near the ample stores of missiles already gathered; or
they collected in armed bodies, whispering, but jubilant over the
perfection of their plans, in the side streets, from which they were
to leap, like mountain lions, on their helpless prey. The Aztec army,
secretly prepared for this emergency, entered the city, and so swelled
the number of assailants that no Cholulan doubted for a moment as to
which side should be granted the victory in the coming conflict. So,
impatiently and joyously, they awaited the signal with which their
triumph would begin.
Outside the city Huetzin's grim Tlascalans, each with a fillet of grass
bound about his head to distinguish him from an Aztec or a Cholulan,
awaited the signal that should send them into action with an equal
impatience. They too were without a doubt as to the result of the
battle. Had they not fought against the white conquerors? and did they
not know, from bitter experience, the extent of their terrible powers?
What would avail the puny efforts of the pottery-making Cholulans
against beings before whom even the mountain warriors of Tlascala
could not stand? That they should dare, for a moment, to oppose the
white conquerors, to say nothing of themselves, was a subject for
scornful mirth in the Tlascalan camp. As for Huetzin, he was filled
with the nervous anxiety of a young commander about to engage in his
first battle. Of this, however, he effectually concealed all traces in
the presence of his warriors, to whom he presented a calm and cheerful
countenance. His friend and brother, Sandoval, had urged him to don a
cap of steel, such as were worn by the conquerors themselves; but this,
Huetzin had firmly declined, saying that he would wear no armor that
could not be equally shared by his warriors. Now, therefore, he was
clad as they were, in a doublet of quilted cotton, and wore on his head
a simple fillet of grass. Above it waved the graceful plume of a white
heron, which, with his Spanish sword, formed the distinguishing badges
of his rank.
The sun had hardly risen before the Cholulan Caciques, who were to
guide the Spanish army through the city streets, presented themselves
at the temple and were admitted. They were followed by a thousand or
more of tamanes, who, as the quick eye of Cortes instantly detected,
were all armed with weapons, of one kind or another, thrust into their
girdles. These were halted in the centre of the court, while the
Caciques advanced, with smiling faces and complimentary words, to where
the Spanish commander sat on his gray steed. Their smiles were quickly
exchanged for expressions of consternation; for, with scornful words,
Cortes began to charge them with their treachery, and showed himself
to be acquainted with all the details of their conspiracy. He recalled
the apparent friendliness with which they and their king had invited
him to Cholula, and the mask of hospitality with which they had covered
their base designs. Now he demanded to know what they had to say for
themselves, and whether any form of punishment could be too severe for
such perfidy.
The trembling Caciques were overwhelmed by these terrible words, and
a memory of the supernatural powers credited to these mysterious
strangers, who seemed able to read their most hidden thoughts, came
back to them. They dared not deny the accusation just made, and so made
a full confession of the conspiracy, only striving to lay the entire
blame upon Montezuma, by whose orders they claimed to have acted, and
whom they dared not disobey.
Merely regarding this as a further evidence of Cholulan cowardice, and
declaring that he was now about to make such an example of them as
should cause their false-hearted king to tremble on his throne, Cortes
raised his hand. At the signal every Spanish musket and cross-bow was
levelled, and so deadly a volley of bullets and bolts was poured into
the dense body of natives, huddled together like sheep in the middle of
the court, that they fell by scores. Then the soldiers leaped forward
to complete their work with sword and pike.
In another moment the combined throngs of Cholulans and Aztecs,
gathered outside the walls, hearing the sounds of strife, advanced,
with exulting cries, to an attack upon the Spaniards. As they rushed
forward there came a burst of flame full in their faces, and, with a
thunderous roar, increased tenfold by reverberations from enclosing
buildings, Mesa's guns hurled forth their deadly tempest. Ere the
bewildered natives could comprehend the nature of what had happened,
the cavalry was upon them with sword, lance, and trampling, iron-shod
hoofs. By the onrush of succeeding hosts these were driven back; but
again Mesa's reloaded guns swept the narrow streets. Again and again
were these tactics repeated with frightful losses to the natives and
almost none to their adversaries.
In the mean time, Huetzin's warriors, dashing forward like tigers at
sound of the first volley, fell on the rear of the swarming Aztecs with
such fury that none could withstand them. Dismayed and panic-stricken
the townsmen gave way and took refuge in their houses. Even here the
fierce Tlascalans pursued them, and setting fire to such structures as
were of wood, soon caused whole blocks of buildings to be enveloped in
flames.
Ever in the front, using his keen Toledo blade with deadly effect,
Huetzin cheered on his followers. Suddenly he detected a body of
skulking priests who had come from all the temples of the city to share
in the anticipated victory of their benighted adherents. Now they
were seeking safety in flight. Like a flash of light came a vision of
innocent children torn to death by these human wolves, and, with an
inarticulate cry of rage, the young Toltec darted after them. A number
of his warriors sprang to his side, and, as the priests dashed up the
long flight of steps leading to the summit of the great pyramid, the
Tlascalans were close on their heels. Hardly had the panting fugitives
gained the upper platform, ere others, who had already sought this
place of refuge, rolled great stones down on the heads of their
pursuers.
Many a mountain warrior was swept, lifeless, to the bottom of the vast
pile before the survivors obtained a foothold on its summit; but, once
there, these took ample revenge for the death of their comrades. The
cowardly priests, who had heretofore urged others to fight, but who had
themselves wielded no weapon save the bloody knife of sacrifice, now
fought for their lives, but with no more effect against Huetzin and his
fierce Tlascalans, than if they had been so many carrion crows. The
face of the murdered Tlahuicol rose before his son's vision, and the
despairing cries of thousands of priestly victims rang in the ears of
the young Toltec as he closed with the mob of blood-stained wretches
who sought in vain the protection of their gods. With no thought save
of vengeance, he leaped among them, his sword drinking life blood with
every stroke. Animated by his example, his followers dealt death-blows
on all sides with a fury only excelled by his own.
From the top of the wooden temple in which the image of the god was
enshrined, the Cholulans poured down javelins, stones, and burning
arrows. Snatching a blazing brand from an altar, Huetzin set fire to
the building, and, with the aid of some Spaniards, who now appeared on
the scene, he dragged the great idol from its pedestal, and hurled it,
crashing, down a side of the lofty pyramid, at the base of which it was
shattered into a hundred fragments.
Priest after priest shared the fate of the god, by leaping from the
blazing turrets of the temple, or flung over the parapet by the
Tlascalans. Finally Huetzin, with the fury of battle in his face and
the blazing eyes of a young war god, looked about him in vain for
another victim. None was left, and, for the first time in two centuries
the great temple of his Toltec ancestors was freed from its defilement
of blood-thirsty Aztec gods and their vile priests.
As he realized this, a solemn joy took possession of the young warrior,
and, though he was bleeding from many wounds he felt them not. He
seemed to hear the myriad voices of his forefathers united in praise
and blessing, and for a moment he stood in rapt unconsciousness of his
surroundings. Then, lifting his eyes to the glowing noonday sky, he
reverently and slowly traced the sacred symbol of the God of the Four
Winds.
At this moment he was recalled to earthly things by a mighty
hand-grasp, and the hearty tones of Sandoval's voice, saying, "Thou
hast done nobly, my warrior brother! I came in time to witness the
conclusion of thy fighting, and never saw I a more finished bit of
work. Thou hast indeed smitten the idolater in his stronghold, and
here, on the site of yonder smoking temple, shall thou and I erect a
goodly cross, the holy symbol of thy religion and of mine."