THE CONQUERORS ARE BESIEGED IN THEIR QUARTERS
The brave girl who had risked and lost her life in bringing Alvarado's
message to Cortes, was buried that same day, at sunset, amid the
drooping cypresses and perfumed flowers of the royal garden of Tezcuco.
During the day, Marina, and a few young Tezcucan girls whom she
persuaded to venture timidly forth from their homes, lined the grave
with a plait of sweet-scented grasses. When Tiata had been laid gently
within it, there was erected above it a snow-white cross, the symbol of
the Toltec faith, for love of which she died. It was a day of sadness
in the deserted city, for the story of the great sorrow that had fallen
on both Huetzin and Sandoval was known to every soldier and warrior. At
the young Tlascalan leader they cast glances of respectful sympathy,
but Sandoval was seen of no man that day. When, on the following
morning, he reappeared among them, none dared speak to him of what had
happened, for to his face had come that look of sternness that it held
to the day of his death, and which caused even the boldest to shrink
from incurring his displeasure.
From Tezcuco the army swept around the southern shore of the salt
lake, to that same great causeway over which the first triumphal entry
had been made into Tenochtitlan. Then, they had barely found room
to advance amid the welcoming throngs of spectators with which it
was crowded. Now, save for their own heavy tread, it was silent and
deserted. Then, the sparkling waters on either side had swarmed with
swift canoes filled with eager sight-seers. Now, only an occasional
craft was to be seen stealthily regarding their movements from a
distance and darting away like a frightened water-fowl when attention
appeared to be attracted to it. Even from the far-reaching city, before
them came no sound, nor was there sign of life. A death-like stillness
brooded over the entire scene, and it filled the hearts of the
advancing troops with an ominous dread. To dispel this, Cortes ordered
the trumpets to sound a merry blast. Its echoes had hardly died away
before they were answered by a glad roar of artillery from the distant
fortress, in the heart of the city.
With this evidence that the little garrison still held out, and that
the cross was still uplifted in the very shadow of Huitzil's temple,
the troops entered Tenochtitlan with lighter hearts and a brisker
tread. As they marched through its silent streets, these appeared
even more deserted than had those of Tezcuco. The active population
of former days had vanished, and the tramp of iron-shod hoofs only
awoke melancholy echoes from empty houses. The veterans, who had seen
these same streets teeming with eager multitudes, gazed about them in
bewilderment, while the levies of Narvaez jeered at them for having,
with all their boasted prowess, only conquered a city of the dead.
Finally they came to the Spanish quarters. The great gates behind which
their friends had been besieged so long, were flung joyously open, and
the new-comers were received with greetings as hearty as they were
sincere. To the veterans little seemed changed since their departure.
Some traces of the siege, in the shape of fire-blackened buildings and
shattered walls, were to be seen here and there, but Montezuma was
still a prisoner; military order still prevailed, and, with the advent
of this fresh army, there was every reason to believe that the former
state of affairs would speedily be restored. Thus Cortes believed, and
thus he wrote to the officer whom he had left in command at Vera Cruz.
Only two comparatively unimportant matters gave him any uneasiness.
One of these was the escape of Cuitlahua, the king's brother, and thus
heir to the Aztec throne, which had been made only a few days before.
The other was Montezuma's complaint that Tlalco, his favorite priestly
adviser, was no longer permitted to visit him. When Cortes questioned
Alvarado concerning this, the latter denied having refused admittance
to any person whom the king desired to see. He added that he had
noted the absence of this particular priest, but had accounted for it
by supposing that he had joined his fellows in inciting the present
insurrection. Both Huetzin and Sandoval deeply regretted that they were
unable to question Tlalco concerning certain matters. Knowing what they
did of his personality, they feared lest it should have been discovered
by the chief priest, in which case they knew there was little hope of
ever again meeting with the devoted Toltec.
A day or two after his arrival, Cortes, having completed his despatches
for Vera Cruz, entrusted them to a messenger who was ordered to proceed
to that fort. He set forth; but in less than half an hour, came flying
back, terror-stricken and covered with wounds. "The city is in arms!"
he cried. "The drawbridges are raised, and no avenue of escape is left!"
Even as he spoke, his words were confirmed by a dark flood of Aztec
warriors, sweeping down the great avenue, like some mighty tide
that has burst its limits. At the same time the parapeted roofs of
neighboring buildings were covered with a multitude of slingers and
bowmen, who seemed to spring into existence as though by magic. As
the astonished Spaniards gazed on this sudden repopulating of the
deserted city with warriors instead of traders, the dread tones of the
great serpent drum, thundering forth from Huitzil's temple, proclaimed
that the Aztec gods had at length awakened and were about to wage a
pitiless, unrelenting war against all followers of the cross.
The ominous booming of the war-drum was instantly answered by the
ringing notes of Christian trumpets, summoning every man within the
palace-fortress to his post. Their call was so promptly obeyed that ere
the tawny Aztec wave reached the wall, every musketeer, cross-bowman,
and gunner was in place, and waiting.
A blinding flight of arrows, darts, and stones, from the Aztec front,
and a storm of missiles from the house-tops, together with a fierce
yell from ten thousand Aztec throats, opened the battle. In reply
came a rattling volley from Spanish guns, that mowed down hundreds of
the advancing hosts. But they did not falter. Again and again they
charged, dashing themselves with impotent fury against the low stone
wall separating them from their enemies, and, time after time, the
same murderous volley drove them back. Hundreds of them, upborne by
hundreds more, scaled the walls, only to fall victims to the Tlascalan
maquahuitls, that sprang to meet them from the opposite side. They
tried to effect a breach with battering-rams, and to set the quarters
on fire with blazing arrows. The woodwork of some of the buildings was
soon burning briskly, and a few rods of wall were levelled; but the
fire died out without injuring the more substantial portions of the
buildings, and a grinning battery lay in wait behind the breach. Like
crouched tigers the black guns seemed to leap at the swarming foe, and
in a few minutes the breach was choked with lifeless human bodies.
Still the battle raged with unabated fury until, with the coming of
night, both sides were thankful for a respite.
With earliest sunrise the Spaniards were again under arms and at
their posts, but only to see the streets and squares swarming with
a more numerous and determined foe than had attacked them on the
preceding day. In its approach to military order the hand of the
warlike Cuitlahua was visible. Instead of being a disorderly mob,
the Aztec force was drawn up in compact bodies, each under its own
leader. Above them streamed banners emblazoned with the devices of many
cities, while over all soared a golden eagle, bearing in his talons
a writhing serpent, the proud cognizance of the Montezumas, and the
standard of the Aztec nation. Among the crowded ranks, fierce priests
were everywhere to be seen promising the protection of the gods, and
inviting their followers to deeds of valor. The gorgeous feather
mantles and golden bucklers of the nobles glistened in the morning sun,
while above the cotton-armored, or naked ranks of the humbler warriors,
a forest of tossing spears reflected his rays from their myriad
gleaming points.
As Cortes had determined to take the offensive in this day's fight,
he ordered a general discharge of artillery and musketry to be poured
into the thickset Aztec ranks before they had made a movement of
attack. Under cover of the resulting confusion, the gates were thrown
open, and out of the smoke clouds the Spanish cavalry dashed forth in
a resistless charge. They were supported by Huetzin with a thousand
Tlascalan warriors, and such was the fury of their onslaught that,
for several blocks, the Aztecs were swept helplessly before it.
Their precipitate flight ended at a barricade of timber and stones,
that had been thrown across the great avenue during the night. Here
they made so determined a stand that the Spaniards, galled by their
hurtling missiles, and an incessant rain of stones from the neighboring
house-tops, were compelled to retire.
Two heavy guns, advanced on the run by scores of lusty Tlascalans,
soon levelled the barricade. But it had served as a rallying-point for
fresh battalions of the enemy, by whom an attempt of the Spaniards to
repeat their brilliant charge was doggedly and successfully resisted.
Regardless of wounds or death, numbers of them would, at a signal, dart
under the horses' bellies and cling to their legs, while others strove
to fell the riders from their saddles.
It was fortunate for the bulk of the Spanish army that the efforts
of the Aztecs were invariably directed toward the taking of
prisoners, rather than to the killing of their enemies; though to the
unfortunates thus captured and dragged away for sacrifice, instant
death would have been infinitely preferable. Everywhere the Spaniards
found barricades erected, and at these points were massed fresh bodies
of Aztec troops, impatiently awaiting their turn to plunge into the
fray. No matter how often they were repulsed or how many of them
were killed, they appeared to the disheartened whites to swarm in
undiminished numbers, and with unabated courage.
So the day was spent in a steady succession of petty, but desperate
engagements. At its close, although the Spaniards had been everywhere
victorious, they were exhausted and filled with gloomy forebodings,
while their adversaries seemed more confident and in a better humor for
fighting than at the beginning of the struggle.
All night long they gathered outside the Spanish quarters, taunting the
invaders with their helplessness, now that the gods were awake. "The
altars of Huitzil thirst for your blood!" they cried. "But soon they
will be drenched with it, and the wild beasts of the palace shall feast
on your carcasses! The knives of sacrifice are sharpened!--and cages
for fattening await the lean and hungry Tlascalans!"