On marching out from the city, Roger and his two comrades formed
part of a picked band, to whom was entrusted the charge of the
prisoners. Roger had been specially selected, as he could translate
to them any order given by the officer of the party; and he was
ordered to march next to them.
He had once or twice in the past few days been enabled, by the
intervention of Marina, to visit the prisoners. Cacama's spirit was
in no way shaken by captivity.
"Your general has made a fatal mistake," he said, "in sending
Cuitlahua out to pacify the populace. He is of very different stuff
from Montezuma, who has become a woman in the hands of the Spanish.
You will see that he will never return, but will lead the people on
to the attack.
"It matters little to us. I know that we shall never escape. The
Spaniards will slay us all, rather than that we should rejoin our
people. But for that I care not. One would rather die in battle
than be slain as a captive; but in either case we shall be dying
for our country, and what can we wish for more? It is the duty of
all to risk their lives, whenever they be needed for their country.
Some here have fought in fifty battles for Mexico. I am younger,
but not too young to have shared in many a battle. I fear death in
no way, my friend, and should welcome it, as a change from
captivity.
"I am well content, now. I should have grieved to have died,
believing that the Mexicans had lost all their ancient spirit and
courage, and were content to be slaves beneath the yoke of a
handful of strangers; but now I see that they were asleep, and not
dead; and that these boasting strangers will find that the despised
Mexican is a match for them; I shall die happy."
The news of the wounding of Montezuma, and the desperate fighting
in the streets and round the palace, excited the prisoners to the
utmost. In their place of confinement they heard the thunder of the
guns, the perpetual rattle of the musketry, and the shouts and
yells of the combatants; but it was only when Roger visited them
that they obtained any details as to the combat that was going on.
They were filled with enthusiasm, as they heard how desperately
their countrymen were fighting; and their only regret was that they
could not join in the struggle, and die leading the assault against
the Spaniards.
Roger did not see them, upon the last day, until he took his place
by their side, when the column formed up in the courtyard.
"I am to keep near you, Cacama," he said, "in order to translate
anything the officer may have to say to you."
"We are going to leave the city?" Cacama asked, eagerly.
"Yes, we are going to cross the causeway."
The officer in charge here came up, and gave an order which Roger
interpreted:
"He asks whether you will all give a pledge to remain silent, as we
march out. If you will do so, he will accept your promise; but if
not, he will be forced to gag you, as the safety of the army
depends upon our getting beyond the streets, before our march is
discovered."
"I wonder that they are ready to take our promise," Cacama said
disdainfully, "after their own treachery. However, an Aztec noble
is not like a Spaniard. Our faith may be depended upon. We will
give our word to be silent."
The other prisoners also promised, and were allowed to take their
places in the column, ungagged.
The alarm was given long before the rear of the column had got out
from the street. Cacama gave an exclamation of joy, when he heard
the silence broken by loud cries at the end of the street; and
immediately afterwards by the shouts of the priests on the lofty
temples, by the blowing of horns, and the beating of the great war
drum.
"The game has begun," he said. "We shall see how many Spaniards
remain alive, when the sun rises. Long before they can get across
the causeway, our people will be upon them. We shall not see the
triumph, for without defensive armor we shall fall, in the
darkness, beneath the missiles of our own people. That matters not.
Better to die at the hands of a Mexican, struggling to be free,
than at those of these treacherous invaders."
The missiles showered down thickly upon the column, from the
houses, till they emerged from the street and made their way out on
to the causeway. Then they became exposed to the storm of arrows,
darts, and stones from the canoes on the lake. By their officer's
orders, the soldiers immediately in charge of the prisoners drew
their swords and formed a circle round them; with orders to fall
upon and kill them, at once, did they make the slightest movement
to escape. Roger translated to the captives the officer's assurance
that, although he was most anxious for their safety, he had no
resource but to order the soldiers to slay them, at once, if they
made any movement to escape.
"We shall not try to escape," Cacama said. "How can we do so, with
our hands bound?"
During the long pause that ensued, before the rear of the column
passed over the bridge on to the causeway, the impatience among the
soldiers was great. Many had already fallen beneath the missiles of
the enemy. Scarce one but had received wounds, more or less severe.
Several of the prisoners, too, had fallen.
"What is it?" Cacama asked, as the cry of despair went up; when it
became known that the bridge was immovable, and that there were no
means of crossing the breaks in the causeway, ahead.
He muttered an exclamation of triumph, when Roger repeated to him
the news he had just learned.
"That settles it," he said. "Their fate is now sealed. The gods are
at last fighting again for Mexico.
"Roger, I am sorry for you, I am sorry for my wife, and for
Amenche; but I rejoice for my country. If you should escape this
night, Roger--and you have more chance than most, since you speak
our language--do all you can for them."
"You may be sure that I shall do that, Cacama; but the chance of
any escaping seems, to me, a small one. Still, it may be that some
will get over alive. The Spaniards have their faults, Cacama, but
they are grand soldiers; and at any rate, now that they see they
must win their way or perish, they will perform wonders."
"Ah!" the exclamation was caused by an arrow striking the young
prince in the chest.
At this time a terrible fight was raging all around them. The
natives had gained a footing on the causeway, and the Spaniards
were fighting hand to hand with them.
"I am mortally wounded, Roger," Cacama said. "Most of the others
have already fallen. It is better so. I have lived long enough to
see vengeance taken on our oppressors.
"Roger, there is one chance for you. Wrap round you one of our
mantles. In the darkness, none will see that you are not a Mexican,
and they will not shoot at you.
"Listen, there is Cuitcatl's war cry. I know his voice; and
doubtless they have discerned our white dresses, in the darkness,
and he is trying to rescue us."
The crowd, pressing along the causeway, had swept the guards away
from the prisoners--indeed, there were now scarcely any prisoners
left to guard. Unprotected by any defensive armor, most of them had
fallen very early in the conflict. Roger was supporting Cacama, and
another prisoner lay dead at their feet.
Roger stooped and snatched off his mantle; then, lifting Cacama in
his arms, forced his way through the press to the edge of the
causeway, just as a canoe ran up alongside, and a number of Aztecs
sprang ashore.
"Cuitcatl!" Roger shouted, at the top of his voice.
"Here," the young noble exclaimed, as he sprang forward.
"Here is Cacama," Roger cried.
At the same moment, he received a stunning blow on the back of his
helmet from one of the Spaniards, who took him for a Mexican; and
fell down the side of the causeway, into the water, with his burden
in his arms.
When Roger recovered his senses, he was lying in a canoe, which was
being paddled rapidly. He had been insensible but a few minutes,
for the cries of the combatants still sounded close at hand.
Cuitcatl was bending over him.
"How is Cacama?" he asked, as soon as he could speak.
"Alas! He is dead," Cuitcatl replied. "You did your best to save
him, Roger.
"He spoke but once, after we had got him into the canoe. He said
'Protect my wife, Cuitcatl; and save our friend.'"
"Where are you taking us?" Roger asked next.
"We will land some distance up the lake. There I will obtain
bearers, and carry Cacama home, that he may be buried as one of his
rank should be. As to you, we must think what had best be done.
None of those with me know who you are; believing, in the darkness,
that you are one of ourselves. They are my own men, and I can rely
upon them when their blood is cooled; but it were best that, at
present, they remained in ignorance. Bathalda is in the bow, and
his influence and mine will be sufficient to control them, when we
are once out of hearing of the conflict. Nothing, save my duty to
Cacama, would have withdrawn me from it; but they must do without
me. Not a Spaniard will see tomorrow's sun.
"Are you badly hurt, Roger? It is too dark to see anything."
"Not badly. I have several arrow points sticking in me, in one
place or another; but they have not gone deep. My armor kept them
out. It was a blow on the head that felled me. There were many
Mexicans on the causeway, fighting with the Spaniards; and I was,
of course, mistaken for one of them. My helmet broke the blow, and
I was stunned rather than injured, I think.
"How came you to be just at that spot?"
"I was on the lookout for the prisoners, being determined to rescue
Cacama, if possible; and as I was fighting, farther back, I heard
it said that there were several white dresses among the Spaniards
ahead. So I made to that point and, just as I was springing ashore,
heard your shout; and saw you roll down, you and another. I guessed
it might be Cacama, for I knew that you would do your best to save
him; and so sprang back again to the water's edge, and found that
it was so.
"And found, alas! that Cacama was mortally wounded. How about the
other prisoners?"
"I think that all had fallen, before he did. You see, they had no
protection; and even we who had armor were suffering, terribly,
from the missiles poured in among us. I know that two ladies,
Montezuma's daughters, were among the first to fall. More than that
I cannot say, for I kept close to Cacama, hoping that in some way I
might find an opportunity to aid his escape; and had he not been
struck, just when he was, I might have done so; for after the news
came that the bridge could not be removed, all was confusion, and
each man thought only of saving his own life."
After rowing for three hours the canoe, having made a circuit of
the city and crossed the lake, reached the shore at a distance of a
few miles from Tezcuco. Cacama's body was lifted ashore, then
Cuitcatl said to Bathalda:
"Bathalda, you will be glad to know that we have saved Cacama's
friend, and mine, Roger Hawkshaw."
The forester gave an exclamation of pleasure.
"I am glad, indeed," he exclaimed. "I wondered what had become of
him, in the fight."
Bathalda's exclamation silenced the murmur with which the others
had heard that one of the white men had been saved, by them, from
the general destruction which, as they believed, had fallen upon
their oppressors.
"He is a friend of our people," Cuitcatl went on, "and is of
another race to these Spaniards. As you see, men, he speaks our
language well, and is like one of ourselves. Cacama held him as a
dear friend; and as you know, Cacama hated the Spaniards, and had
it not been for treason would have attacked them, long ago.
"Now, form a litter with the paddles and lay Cacama upon it.
Morning is breaking, and we have far to go. The new Lord of Tezcuco
is a friend of the Spaniards. We must get well away, as soon as we
can."
Roger threw aside the Spanish helmet. Cuitcatl took some of the
plumes from his own headdress, and bound them round his head and,
as soon as the bier was constructed, the little party started. In
the afternoon they arrived at Cuitcatl's house, the chief having
himself gone forward, to inform the queen of Cacama's fate, and of
the near approach of the party, with his body.
It was a mournful scene, when they arrived. The whole of the male
and female retainers were assembled outside the house, the women
filling the air with cries and lamentations, the men weeping and
wailing. The bearers of the bier passed into the house, where
Maclutha awaited it.
Roger, unwilling to intrude upon the grief of the unhappy queen,
remained without, talking to Bathalda; the natives viewing him with
hostility and wonder, being unable to understand how it was that
their lord had brought one of the white men to his house.
In a minute or two, however, Amenche's attendant ran down the steps
to Roger and, telling him to follow her, led the way to the
apartment where the princess was waiting him. She fell, crying,
into his arms.
"It is terrible, Roger," she sobbed. "As long as my brother was but
a captive, we had hoped that he might be restored to us; and now he
is brought home dead--slain, too, by a Mexican arrow."
"Cacama was ready for death, Amenche. I was beside him, from the
time he left his prison. He was sure that we should be attacked;
and saw that, as he and those with him were unprotected by any
armor, they would be the first to fall when the fighting began as,
in the darkness, the Mexicans would not be able to distinguish them
from their enemies. But he said that he was quite content to die,
seeing that the people had now recovered their ancient spirit, and
were battling with heroes against their oppressors."
"And they are all destroyed," Amenche exclaimed, passionately.
"We do not know that," Roger replied. "Their position was a
terrible one and seemed well-nigh hopeless. I know that Cuitcatl
regarded it as quite hopeless, and deems that all have fallen; but
I do not think so. The passages to be crossed were of no great
width; and though numbers may have fallen, I believe that some will
have made their way across. They will have lost their guns, and if
the Aztecs continue to press them as hotly as they did upon the
causeway, they may slay them all; but if they give them time to
rally, they may yet fight their way back to Tlascala."
"And you will stop here with us, Roger. Is it not so?"
"If your people will allow me to do so, I will, Amenche. I ask for
nothing better; but remember that even Cacama, himself, felt
doubtful whether he could protect me from the power of the
priests--and at that time their reason for hating the Spaniards was
small to what it now is, and Cacama himself has gone. Cuitcatl,
though a powerful cazique, has but small influence in comparison
with that which Cacama, as King of Tezcuco and nephew of Montezuma,
possessed."
"How is Montezuma? What has become of him? We heard that he was
wounded; but it scarce seems possible that his own subjects should
raise a hand against him."
"He died yesterday afternoon, and Cortez delivered his body to the
people of the city."
The girl uttered an exclamation of horror.
"This is dreadful, indeed," she said, bursting again into tears.
"To think of the great emperor being dead! What horrors and
misfortunes have befallen us!
"It is bad for us, too, Roger. I was one of his favorite nieces,
and I thought of going to him and obtaining his permission to marry
you, in order that you should be received into the nation. Now that
hope is gone.
"But I must leave you for a while, and go to Maclutha. I must not
leave her longer, alone in her grief."
Soon afterwards, Cuitcatl entered the room.
"Come, Roger," he said; "a meal has been prepared, and we both
sorely need food and rest. Tomorrow we shall have time to talk over
the future, and by that time I shall have news whether any of the
Spaniards have escaped. If they have, I must hurry off again; for
Cuitlahua has sworn that not one shall leave the country, alive,
and every man who can bear arms must take the field against them.
But it will be an easy task for, at any rate, few can have got off
that causeway alive."
Roger was glad, as soon as he had finished his meal, to throw
himself down on a couch. He had been on guard, the greater part of
the night before the sortie to clear the street leading to the
causeway, and had slept but an hour or two, the following evening.
He had lost a good deal of blood, from the blow he had received on
the head; and from the arrow wounds, of which he had several,
although none were serious; and he was now completely done up.
Amenche stole away from Maclutha, for a few minutes' talk with him
and Cuitcatl, while they had their meal; and after hearing an
outline of the later events of the siege of the palace, and of the
fight on the causeway, she had herself insisted that Roger should
instantly seek repose.
"I shall be occupied with Maclutha, and there is much to see about,
in such times as these. There can be no pomp and ceremonial of
burial. That must come when peace is restored, and we carry
Cacama's ashes to be laid with his father's, at Tezcuco. Bathalda
and some of the slaves have already started to bring in wood for
the funeral pile. All will be ready by sunrise, tomorrow."
Roger's wounds were dressed, by one of the slaves who was skilled
in all operations connected with wounds; and he slept, without once
waking, until Cuitcatl came to him in the morning and bade him
arise, as all was ready for the ceremony of Cacama's cremation.
The rule in Mexico was that, on the death of anyone, the body was
attired in the garments peculiar to his tutelary deity; but Cacama
was dressed, simply, in the robe indicating his rank.
"You see," Amenche said, when Roger joined them; "we have dressed
him in a warrior's robes, not in those of a Lord of Tezcuco; for we
have none such here. Nor have we attired him in the garments of our
god. For Cacama, as you know, worshiped chiefly the great Unknown
God, in whom his grandfather believed; who is Lord of all the gods,
and of all peoples; and who must be the same, Roger, that you white
people worship."
"No doubt He is the same," Roger said; "and I am glad, Amenche,
that you and your brother have already come to love Him. He is not
Lord of all gods, for He is the only God. There are none others.
"Some day, dear, when you come to England with me, a priest shall
instruct you in all we know of Him.
"But I see they are going to light the pile. What are all those
pieces of paper that cover his body?"
"They are charms, Roger, against the dangers of the unknown road he
has to travel. It is the custom of the country, and we did not
think it worth while to depart from it. It is also the custom to
sacrifice numbers of slaves, and send them to be his attendants
upon the road. But the Unknown God hates all sacrifices of blood;
and Cacama, although forced to yield to the power of the priests,
would have had none, could he have helped it, in Tezcuco."
Cuitcatl, as the oldest friend of the dead prince, applied a torch
to the pile, which was composed for the most part of aromatic wood.
Maclutha and Amenche broke into a plaintive hymn, in which their
attendants, and the females who had collected, in considerable
numbers, from the neighboring villages, joined. Higher and higher
rose the flames, the voices rising with them; until the dirge
culminated in a loud wailing cry, as the flames reached the corpse,
and hid it from view. Then the hymn recommenced, and continued
until the pile had been burnt down.
The mourners then re-entered the house, leaving the two or three
priests who were present to collect the ashes, and to place them in
a large gold vase; of which they would act as guardians, until the
time came for its removal, in solemn procession, to Tezcuco.
Cuitcatl took Roger aside.
"I have bad news from Mexico," he said. "You were right, and I was
mistaken. A portion of the Spaniards and Tlascalans succeeded in
crossing the breaches in the causeway, and gaining the mainland.
However, it is said that two-thirds of their number perished. As
they have lost the terrible weapons, that committed such
destruction, they will be at our mercy. We know now that they are
not invincible. Their terror has departed.
"Be assured that they will not escape us. They have reached land on
the opposite side of the lake, and will have to make a great
circuit, which will give us time to collect our forces. Cuitlahua
has already dispatched a messenger to every town and village,
ordering all to assemble under their chiefs; and to be prepared to
march, at a moment's notice, when the rendezvous is settled upon. I
would it had all been finished on the causeway, but there can be no
doubt as to the result.
"At most there are but four hundred Whites and four thousand
Tlascalans, while we shall number over one hundred thousand. They
say the white men have lost not only their great guns, but those
they carry on their shoulders; and that only twenty or thirty of
their strange animals have survived. Therefore, this time, we shall
fight with something like equal arms, and shall overwhelm them as
the sea overwhelms the rock."
"Your simile is an unfortunate one, Cuitcatl. The sea covers the
rock, but when it retires the rock remains. Still, it does seem to
me that, however valiantly the Spaniards may fight, they cannot
withstand such terrible odds.
"But I cannot rejoice with you. You know that I abhor, as much as
you do, the cruel massacre at the temple. My sympathies were with
your people, while struggling to throw off the yoke that the
Spaniards had imposed upon them; but I am white, like them. I know
that many among them are noble men, and that much of the harm they
have committed has been done from conscientious motives; just as
your people have, from a desire to please the gods, offered up
thousands of human victims, every year. Much as they love gold, many
of them--and certainly Cortez among them--think more of spreading
their religion than they do of personal ambition, or even of gain.
I have many acquaintances and some good friends, among them; and I
cannot think of their being all destroyed, without regret and
horror. I do not say that you are not justified in killing all, for
your existence as a nation is at stake; but to me, it is terrible."
"I can understand that, my friend; but nothing can avert their
destruction.
"Now, as to yourself. Had it not been for Cacama's death, I should
have said it were best that you should marry Amenche, at once; but
among us, it would be most unseemly for a sister to think of
marrying, when her brother has but just died."
"It is the same with us," Roger said. "A certain time must always
pass, after the death of a near relative, before marriage. Besides,
the present is no time for thinking of such a thing. My fate is
altogether uncertain, and I own that I consider there is small
ground for hope that I can escape from the present troubles. If, as
seems certain now, the Spaniards are all destroyed, the people will
more than ever venerate their gods, and the power of the priests
will be almost unlimited.
"It is useless for me to try to deceive myself, Cuitcatl. I know
your friendship, but you would not have the power to withstand the
decision of the priests. They will never permit a single white man
to remain alive in the land. Had Cacama lived, he might possibly
have protected me; but I think that even his authority would have
been insufficient to do so. If the Spaniards are destroyed, I have
but one chance of my life: and that is, to make my way down to the
coast, and to sail away with the Spaniards there."
Cuitcatl was silent, for he felt the force of what Roger said.
"If you go, you must not go alone," he replied at last. "Amenche
would die, were you to desert her."
"I will assuredly take her, if she will accompany me," Roger said;
"but I do not think that there is much chance of my escape, even in
that way. The news of the destruction of the Spaniards will be
carried, with the speed of the wind, down to the coast; and the
tribes there will instantly rise and fall upon the Spaniards. Those
who have been the most friendly with them will be the very first to
take up arms against them, in order to make their peace with the
Aztecs, and to avert their vengeance for the aid they have given
the Spaniards. Long before we could reach the coast, the Spaniards
there would either be killed, or driven on board their ships."
Cuitcatl could not deny the justice of Roger's reasoning.
"There is nothing to do," the latter went on, "but to wait--at any
rate, until this battle has taken place. Impossible as it seems,
the Spaniards may yet extricate themselves from the toils; in which
case I should join them. If not, and I find my escape by the coast
cut off, by the rising of the tribes there, the only thing that I
can see is to take to the mountains; and to live there, as I did
with Bathalda, on the proceeds of the chase. I might then, perhaps,
in time make my way to people in the far north, who have not such
reason as they have here for hating a man with a white skin; or I
might wait until the Spaniards send another expedition, to carry
out what Cortez has failed to accomplish."
Leaving their fires burning, the remains of the Spanish army
marched, at midnight, from the temple where they had enjoyed rest,
and had recruited their strength and spirits. The sick and wounded
were placed in the center, and carried on litters, or on the backs
of the porters; while others, who were strong enough to sit
upright, rode on the horses behind the mounted soldiers. All night
the march continued without disturbance; but in the morning, large
parties of natives were seen moving about. Tlacopan lay on the most
westerly point of the lake, and the most direct route of the
Spaniards would have been to keep along by its margin; but had they
done so, they would have been liable to attack from the capital; as
the troops could have poured out across the causeway to Tepejacac,
and headed them there. They therefore struck off due north, with
the intention of passing to the west of Lake Xaltocan.
The country was a broken one; and the Mexicans, gathering on the
hills, rolled stones down upon them, with volleys of arrows and
darts. Sometimes they even ventured to descend into the plain, and
fall upon the rear of the column. As often as they did so, however,
the little body of cavalry drove them off. The infantry column kept
steadily on its way, though greatly harassed by the continued
attacks.
Day after day passed in this manner, the Spaniards being reduced to
great straits, from want of food; as the natives, in the small
towns and villages through which they passed, carried off all
provisions and stores; and the only food the soldiers could obtain
were wild cherries, and a few ears of corn that had been left by
the harvesters. Sometimes a horse fell dead, from exhaustion, and
afforded a welcome supply of food.
Many of the soldiers dropped, lifeless from fatigue and famine.
Others, unable to keep up the march, fell behind and were captured
by the enemy, and carried off to furnish sacrifices for the gods.
To lighten themselves, the soldiers threw away the gold, to obtain
which they had dared so many dangers, and suffered so many
hardships. Life itself was at stake, and the precious metal had
ceased to have any value in their eyes.
Through those terrible days Cortez, as usual, set a splendid
example to his solders. He was in the front, wherever danger
threatened. He bore his full share of the hardships, and by his
cheerfulness and calmness kept up the spirits of the soldiers, and
cheered them by assuring them they might yet escape from the
dangers that menaced them.
The Tlascalans also behaved admirably; and appeared to bear no
grudge, whatever, against the Spaniards, for the sufferings which
their alliance had brought upon them.
Passing through the town of Quauhtitlan, and round the north of
Lake Tzompanco, they at last turned their faces east; and on the
seventh day reached the edge of the plateau, and looked down upon
the plains of Otompan. They were still but thirty miles, in a
direct line, from the capital; but they had traversed fully three
times that distance, in their circuitous journey.
During the last day's march, the numbers of the natives who
surrounded them had considerably increased; and menacing shouts, of
the fate that awaited them, greeted them as they marched along. The
nature of the peril was not understood until, on reaching the crest
from which they looked down on the valley of Otompan, they saw that
it was filled with a mighty army; whose white cotton mail gave
it--as one of their historians states--the appearance of being
covered with snow. Here were all the levies that Cuitlahua had
collected. The whole of the cities of the plains had sent in their
quota, and the bright banners of the chiefs and nobles waved gaily
over the snowy array of their followers.
The numbers of the Mexicans were put down at varying amounts by the
Spanish historians, some of them having them as high as two hundred
thousand; but it is probable that at least half that number were
assembled, to bar the march of the worn-out little force that
surveyed them from the heights. Even the most hopeful and
courageous of the Spaniards felt something like dismay, as they
viewed the tremendous array before them. Deprived of the weapons on
which they had chiefly depended for victory, with their cavalry
reduced to a mere handful, the prospect seemed indeed desperate.
But there was no room for hesitation. They must cut a way through
the enemy, or die.
Cortez addressed the troops in a short speech of encouragement. He
reminded them that they had already won victories against enormous
odds; and that numbers, indeed, were but of slight consequence,
when the arm of God was with them.
"Assuredly He, who had carried them safely through so many perils,
would not now abandon them, and His own good cause, to perish by
the hand of these infidels."
With steady step and in compact array, the little force descended
the hill into the plain; and as soon as they reached the level
ground, the Aztec host attacked them, on all sides. The handful of
cavalry, consisting almost entirely of the personal friends and
officers of Cortez, cleared the way for the head of the column by
repeated and desperate charges; while the infantry, with pike and
sword, maintained a front that the Aztecs, although fighting with
the greatest bravery, were unable to break.
The Tlascalans fought as stoutly as the Spaniards. Their native
land lay almost within sight, and the love of home, and the
remembrance of many a victory gained over the Aztecs, animated them
to rival the steadfastness of their white comrades.
Yet though unbroken, the little force was but as an island in the
midst of an ocean. The attacks, although always repulsed, were
constantly renewed. The gaps in the ranks of the enemy were filled
up with fresh combatants and, as hour after hour went on, even the
most hopeful in the Spanish band began to feel that the contest
could have but one termination; and that they would be overcome,
not so much by the arms of the Aztecs, as by fatigue, thirst and
hunger.
The cavalry had performed prodigies of valor. Breaking up into
knots of threes and fours, they had charged into the dense crowd of
the enemy; clearing a way for themselves with lance and sword, and
by the weight of the horses and armor. But such charges could have
but little effect on the fortunes of the day. The numbers of those
they slew counted for nothing, in such a host; and the lanes they
made closed behind them, until, after making a circuit, they again
joined the main body.
For hours the fight raged. The Spanish battle cry, "Saint James and
Our Lady!" still rose sternly, in answer to the triumphant yells of
the Aztecs. Their front was still unbroken, but all felt that
nothing, short of a miracle, could save them. Not one but was
wounded in many places by the Aztec missiles. Their arms were weary
with striking. The sun blazed down upon them with scorching heat.
Their throats were parched with thirst. They were enfeebled by
hunger.
The Aztecs, seeing that their foes were becoming faint and wearied,
that the horses of the cavaliers could scarce carry them, and that
the end was approaching, redoubled their shouts; and pressed more
heartily and eagerly than ever upon the Spaniards, driving the
cavalry back, by sheer weight, into the ranks of the infantry.
Cortez, at this supreme moment, still maintained his calmness. He
saw that all was lost, unless a change was made, and that speedily.
Another hour at latest, and the resistance would be over, and the
brave men who had followed him be either dead, or prisoners
reserved for sacrifice.
Throughout the day he had ordered his cavaliers to strike ever at
the chiefs, knowing well that undisciplined bodies of men become
lost, without leaders. Raising himself in his stirrups, he looked
round over the seething mass of the foe; and at some distance
beheld a small body of officers, whose gay and glittering attire
showed them to belong to the highest rank of nobles; gathered round
a litter on which was a chief, gorgeously attired with a lofty
plume of feathers floating above his head; rising above which was a
short staff, bearing a golden net.
Cortez knew that this was the symbol carried by the Aztec
commanders in chief. He called to his comrades--Sandoval, Olid,
Alvarado, Avila, and the other cavaliers--and pointing to the
chief, cried:
"There is our mark! Follow, and support me."
Then he spurred his wearied horse forward, and dashed into the
throng, followed by his cavaliers.
The fury and suddenness of the attack bore all before it. The
compact little body of horsemen, shouting their battle cry, clove
through the ranks of the enemy, making straight for the Indian
commander, whose name was Cihuaca. In vain the Mexicans tried to
bar the way. In vain, when after a few minutes of tremendous
exertion, Cortez reached his goal, the nobles and the bodyguard
strove to defend their chief. Cortez, fighting with almost
superhuman vigor, clove his way through all opposition; and with
his lance ran through the Aztec general, and hurled him to the
ground, when one of his followers, leaping from his horse, quickly
dispatched him.
The guard, appalled by the suddenness of the attack, broke and fled
in all directions, scattering panic among the lately triumphant
host. Scarce knowing what had happened, but feeling that some
dreadful misfortune had occurred, and all was lost, the Aztecs were
seized with a blind terror; and breaking their ranks, thought only
of escape.
As if by magic, a victorious army was transformed into a flying
mob. The Spaniards and Tlascalans took instant advantage of the
change. Fatigue and thirst, wounds and exhaustion were forgotten.
With shouts of triumph, and vengeance, they broke their ranks and
followed hotly upon the fugitives. These, impeded by their very
numbers, and half mad with panic, offered no resistance whatever.
Great numbers were overtaken and slain and, when the Spaniards
abandoned the pursuit at the summons of their leader's trumpet, and
assembled round him, the field was covered with the bodies of their
fallen foes.
An hour was spent in gathering the booty from the bodies of the
chiefs, of whom great numbers had fallen; and then, after offering
up thanks to God for their marvelous deliverance, the army again
renewed their march. It was already late in the afternoon, and they
halted at sunset at a temple standing on an eminence, which
afforded them shelter and a defensive position, should the Aztecs
renew the assault.
But of this there was little fear. Their defeat had been utter and
complete. There was no chance of their rallying.
The victory of Otompan was one of the most remarkable ever won. The
discrepancy of numbers was immense. The Spaniards were unprovided
with artillery or firearms, and owed their success to their
discipline and bravery, and still more to the extraordinary valor
and quick-sightedness of their leader.