While these scenes of blood were passing in the centre of the army, and
a hideous mystery concealed the fate of the rear, the condition of the
advanced guard, though not altogether hopeless, was scarce less
terrific. When the forces of Sandoval, comprising many of the followers,
both common soldiers and captains, of Narvaez, were made acquainted with
the fate of the bridge, and beheld the vast number of foes that impelled
their canoes towards the further bank of the second ditch, as if to
secure the passage, they waited not for directions to cross over, by
swimming. They imitated the example of their commander, Sandoval, who,
leaping from his horse, and leading him into the water, passed over by
the beam, while still holding and guiding the swimming animal. This mode
of proceeding being necessarily very slow, and the barbarians rushing,
in the meanwhile, against them with unspeakable fury, the impatience of
the cavaliers became so great, that many of them spurred their steeds
down the sides of the dike, and thus, swimming them along by the beam,
passed to the other side. Divers of the footmen, seduced by the example,
leaped, in like manner, into the lake; and the Tlascalans, at all times
less formidable opponents than their armed allies, being, at the same
moment, violently assaulted, sprang also into the water, so that it
became alive with the bodies of man and horse,--as if a herd of caymans,
such as haunt the lower rivers of that climate, were disporting and
battling in the tide. While thus embarrassed and entangled together in
the water, the swimmers were set upon by the Mexicans, who, pushing
their canoes among them, and handling their heavy paddles, as well as
war-clubs, despatched them, almost without labour, and with roars of
exultation.
It was at this instant of confusion, and while those Tlascalans who
still remained on the dike, contended but feebly with the augmenting
assailants, that Don Hernan, followed closely by De Morla, and others,
dashed over friend and foe, and reached the ditch. The scene of horror
there disclosed, the miserable shrieks of Christian comrades, perishing
in the gap and the neighbouring parts of the lake, the increasing yells
of infidels behind, touched the stout heart of Cortes with fear. He
descended from his steed, sprang upon the beam, and crossed, crying out,
at the same time, to those who followed,--
"Hold, cavaliers! Wait ye here for the artillery: leave not this gap to
the murderers. Fight ye here well, and ye shall have help from the van."
So saying, he sprang again upon his horse. De Morla was at his heels,
bearing Minnapotzin in his arms, but on foot: the chestnut gelding was
left drowning in the sluice, entangled and sinking under the weight of a
dozen men, who had seized upon him, in their terror.
"God forgive thee, cavalier!" cried Cortes, as he caught the eye of
Francisco; "for, for this barbarian puppet, thou playest the coward, and
leavest thy friend to perish, without the aid of a blow!"
De Morla answered not, but, with a ghastly smile, uncovered and pointed
at the features of the unconscious princess.
"If she be dead," cried the general, "give her body to the waters of her
native lake; if she live, commit her to the care of the Tlascalans; then
call on thy saints and show that thou art not a craven!"
Then, without waiting for an answer, Don Hernan spurred onwards,
striking down, almost at every step,--for the whole causeway was
beset,--some luckless savage; and, now and then, in his desperation,
smiting at the hands of certain of his own countrymen, who strove to
arrest the galloping steed, and spring behind him.
He reached the third and last ditch; it was bridge-less, like the
others, and, like the others, a theatre of disorder and massacre. The
pillar of fire, here, revealed its figure but luridly and faintly,
through the thick mists and the cannon-smoke, sluggishly driving over
the lake; but he thought he could trace, in the distant gloom, in front,
the outline of those rugged hills, which lie along the western borders
of the lake. He turned his face backwards to the city; a tempest of
yells--the pagan shouts of victory, and the last cries of Spaniards to
God,--came mingling on a gust, that waved the distant flame to and fro,
like a sword of fire in the hands of some colossal fiend. A bolt of ice
smote through his bosom; and when he plunged into the sluice, and,
rising on the opposite bank, drove the sharp spurs into the flanks of
his charger, no man, of all the army, fled with more craven horror than
himself.
An hour afterwards, the moon, diminished to the thinnest crescent, crept
with a sickly and cadaverous visage, to the summit of the eastern hills,
and peeped down into the valley, preceding the dawn that was soon to
look upon its scenes of death.
At this moment of moonrise, those few Christians who had escaped from
the battle, were grouped at the end of the dike, deliberating, in
unspeakable agitation, upon the course they were to pursue. Many advised
that they should instantly resume their flight, and trust to their speed
to put them, before morning, beyond the reach of their merciless
enemies; some insisted upon remaining, to give help to such wretches as,
ever and anon, made their way from the causeway, and, with tears of joy
and loud thanks-givings, threw themselves among their friends; a few,
more honourable, or more insane, among whom were Sandoval and Don
Christobal de Olid, (a very valiant cavalier, to whom other histories
have been juster than this,) demanded, with stern reproaches, that their
leader should conduct them again to the combat, which was still raging
on the lake, and rescue their countrymen out of that fiery furnace, or,
at once, honourably and justly, perish with them.
"Is there one here, who, if I refuse this most mad counsel, will say I
do it from fear?" demanded the general, with a voice broken by agony and
despair. "What I do, I do for the good of heaven, the king, and
yourselves. If I suffer you to return, then will ye perish, Spain lose
an appanage worthy the first-born of an emperor, and, in that accursed
city, God be daily grieved by the sight of idolatry and sacrifice. By
remaining where we are, we shall save many lives; and this land of milk
and honey, of corn and of gold, though now torn from us for our sins,
will be yet the guerdon of our resolution. I aver and protest, that if
we return to the hell that is on the lake, we shall be lost, to a man.
Is there one, then, who says I remain here from fear?"
Notwithstanding the deep grief and agitation which gave their tone to
the words of the general, there was mingled withal a touch of such
sternness, as forbade even the boldest to reply. Great, therefore, was
the surprise of all, when a hollow and broken voice murmured, in answer,
from the causeway,--
"There is ONE,--there are an hundred,--there _have been_ (but now they
are not,) a thousand men, who say that, this night, Cortes hath proved a
craven, a deserter of his friends, a traitor to his king, a betrayer of
his God,--and, therefore, a villain!"
As these words were uttered, there staggered up the bank, on which the
party rested, a figure, seemingly of a cavalier, but his armour so rent
and demolished, as, in many places, to leave his body naked. His helmet
was gone, and his locks, dripping with water and blood, fell over his
breast, leaving their crimson stains on the white mantle muffling the
body of some slighter figure, which he bore in his arms.
"I forgive thee, De Morla!" cried the general, rushing forwards, and
then recoiling, as Don Francisco deposited the burden at his feet, and,
removing the cloth reeking with water as with gore, disclosed to the
view of all, gently touched by the ray of that wasted and melancholy
moon, the countenance of the dead princess. "Who hath struck the
daughter of Montezuma?--who hath done this deed?"
"He who hath smitten the hearts of a thousand Christians, by leading
them into peril, and deserting them in their need!" said the cavalier,
with a tranquillity that struck all with terror, for it was unnatural;
"he, who commanded me to fling, while living, this child of a murdered
king into the lake, or upon the spears of Tlascalans, and then get me
back to the foe, that he might himself fly in safety!"
"Thou art mad, Francisco! and thou doest me foul injustice!" said Don
Hernan, hurriedly. "I fled not; nor did I bid thee do aught but entrust
this hapless maiden to some strong band of allies, thou being thyself
on foot, and, therefore, incompetent to protect her."
"You called me craven, too!" said the cavalier, with a hoarse laugh,
raising his voice aloud. "Thou liest!--I am braver than thou; for my
body is covered with wounds--from the crown to the sole, there is no
part but is mangled;--and yet thou hast not a limb but is untouched! You
call me craven! God smite you with punishment, for you are _all_
cravens, knaves, and murderers together! You wait on the banks, while we
are dying, and you call us cravens! God will do us right! God will
avenge us! God will hear our prayers! and so God curse you all, and keep
your bones for the maws of infidels!"
Thus speaking, and concluding with the voice of a madman, the young
cavalier cast a look on the dead princess, and, uttering a horrid
scream, ran back, distracted, to the causeway.
"In the name of God, on!" exclaimed an hundred voices; "we are _not_
cravens and murderers, and Spaniards shall not fall unaided!"
Don Hernan himself, stung by the sarcasms of the unhappy and
well-beloved cavalier, was the first to clap spurs to his horse; and
again the thunder of cavalry, and the quick tread of footmen moving in
order, were heard on the dike of Tacuba.