It was determined that no time should be lost. The Mexicans would doubtless be mourning over the body of Montezuma, and would be unprepared for such prompt action on the part of the Spaniards.
The first question was the disposal of the treasure. The soldiers had, for the most part, converted their share of the gold into chains; which they wore round their necks. But there was a vast amount in bars and ornaments, constituting the one-fifth which had been set aside for the crown, the one-fifth for Cortez himself, and the shares of his principal officers.
One of the strongest horses was laden with the richest portion of the crown treasure, but all the rest was abandoned. The gold lay in great heaps.
"Take what you like of it!" Cortez said to his men, "but be careful not to overload yourselves. 'He travels safest, in the dark, who travels lightest.'"
His own veterans took his advice, and contented themselves with picking out a few of the most valuable ornaments; but the soldiers of Narvaez could not bring themselves to leave such treasures behind them, and loaded themselves up with as much gold as they could carry.
Cortez now arranged the order of march. The van was composed of two hundred Spanish foot, and twenty horsemen, under the orders of Gonzalo de Sandoval. The rearguard, with the main body of the infantry and the greater portion of the guns, was commanded by Alvarado and Velasquez de Leon. Cortez himself led the center, which was in charge of the baggage, some of the heavy guns, and the prisoners; among whom were a son and two daughters of Montezuma, Cacama, and the other nobles who had been in prison with him. The Tlascalans were divided among the three corps.
A portable bridge had been prepared for crossing the canals which intersected the causeway; the intention being that it should be laid across a canal, that the army should pass over it, and that it should then be carried forward to the next gap in the causeway. This was a most faulty arrangement, necessitating frequent and long delays, and entailing almost certain disaster. Had three such portable bridges been constructed, the column could have crossed the causeway with comparatively little risk; and there was no reason why these bridges should not have been constructed, as they could have been carried, without difficulty, by the Tlascalans.
At midnight the troops were in readiness for the march. Mass was performed by Father Olmedo; and at one o'clock on July 1st, 1520, the Spaniards sallied out from the fortress that they had so stoutly defended.
Silence reigned in the city. As noiselessly as possible, the troops made their way down the broad street, expecting every moment to be attacked; but even the tramping of the horses, and the rumbling of the baggage wagons and artillery did not awake the sleeping Mexicans, and the head of the column arrived at the head of the causeway before they were discovered. Then, as the advanced guard were preparing to lay the portable bridge across the first opening, some Aztec sentinels gave the alarm.
The priests on the summits of the temples heard their cries, and at once sounded their horns and the huge war drum. Instantly the city awoke, and the silence was succeeded by a roar of sound. The vanguard had scarcely got upon the causeway when canoes shot out upon the lake, and soon a storm of stones and arrows burst upon the column. More and more terrible did it become, as fresh canoes, crowded with the warriors, came up. Many of these pushed up to the causeway itself; and the natives, landing, fell upon the Spaniards with fury.
The latter made no stay. Fighting their way through their foes they pressed on until they reached the next opening in the causeway, and there waited for the bridge to come up. But a column many thousands strong, with baggage and artillery, takes a long time to cross a bridge; and the advanced guard had reached the opening long before the rear had passed the bridge, and there stood helpless, exposed to the terrible storm of missiles, until at last the column were all across the bridge.
Then forty picked men, who had been specially told off for the task, tried to raise it so that it might be carried to the front; but the weight of the baggage wagons and artillery had so wedged it into the earth, that they were unable to move it. They persevered in their efforts until most of them had fallen. The rest bore the terrible news to the army that the bridge was immovable.
A terrible cry of despair arose, as the news spread. All hope seemed lost and, regardless of order or discipline, all pressed forward to endeavor, in some way or other, to cross the obstacle that barred their way.
Pressed on by those behind them, Sandoval and his cavaliers dashed into the water. The distance was short, but the horses were weak from hunger, and burdened by their own heavy armor and that of their riders. Some succeeded in swimming across. Others sank; while some reached the opposite side, only to fall back again, as they tried to climb the steep bank.
The infantry followed them, throwing away their armor to enable them to swim. Some succeeded, others were pressed down by their comrades. Many were killed by the war clubs or spears of the Mexicans in their canoes. Others again, half stunned by the clubs, were dragged into the canoes and carried off to the city to be sacrificed.
All along the causeway the fight raged unceasingly; the Aztecs in the boats alongside leaping ashore, and grappling with their foes, and rolling with them down the causeway into the water; while those in the distance kept up their rain of missiles. The opening in the causeway was at last filled--choked up with ammunition wagons and guns, bales of rich goods, chests of gold, and the bodies of men and horses--and over these the Spaniards made their way.
Cortez had swum or waded across on his horse, and he rode on until he joined Sandoval and the remains of the advanced guard, who were checked at the third and last opening. The cavaliers set the example to their followers by plunging into the water. The rest followed as best they could. Many were drowned by the weight of the gold they carried. Others got across by clinging to the tails and manes of the horses.
Cortez, with Sandoval and other cavaliers, led the retreat until they reached the end of the causeway. The din of battle was now far behind, but those who came up brought the news that the rear guard were so sorely pressed, that they would be destroyed unless aid reached them.
Cortez and his companions did not hesitate. They dashed along the causeway, again swam the canal, and made their way through the crowd until they reached the rear guard. Morning was breaking now, and it showed the lake covered with canoes filled with warriors. Along the whole length of the causeway a desperate fight was raging.
Cortez found Alvarado on foot, his horse had been killed under him. With a handful of followers, he was still desperately defending the rear against the Mexicans, who had poured out from the city in pursuit. The artillery had at first done good service, sweeping the causeway and mowing down hundreds of their assailants; but the Aztecs were careless of life, and rushed on so furiously that they swept over the guns, killing those who served them, and fell upon the infantry.
The charge of Cortez and his companions for a moment bore back the foe; but, pressed by those behind, they swept aside resistance, and bore back the Spaniards to the edge of the canal. Cortez and his companions plunged in and swam across. Alvarado stood on the brink, hesitating. Unhorsed and defenseless, he could not make his way across the gap, which was now crowded with the canoes of the enemy. He set his strong lance on the bottom of the canal and, using it as a leaping pole, sprang across. The feat was an extraordinary one, for although the width is not given, it was declared, by those who witnessed it, to be impossible for any mortal. It filled friends and foes alike with astonishment; and the spot is, to this day, known by the Mexicans as "Alvarado's Leap."
The Aztecs followed no farther. They were occupied, now, in securing the enormous wealth the Spaniards had left behind them; and the remnants of the army marched along the causeway unmolested, and took possession of the village at its end.
Cortez, iron hearted as he was, sat down and burst into tears as he viewed the broken remnant of his army. He was consoled, however, by finding that many of his most trusted companions had escaped. Sandoval, Alvarado, Olid, Ordaz and Avila were safe; and so, to his great joy, was Marina. She had, with a daughter of a Tlascalan chief, been placed under the escort of a party of Tlascalan warriors, in the van of the column, and had passed unharmed through the dangers of the night.
The loss of the Spaniards in their retreat is variously estimated; but the balance of authority, among contemporary writers, places it at four hundred and fifty Spaniards, and four thousand Tlascalans. This, with the loss sustained in the previous conflicts, reduced the Spaniards to about a third, and the Tlascalans to a fifth of the force which had entered the capital. The greater part of the soldiers of Narvaez had been killed. They had formed the rear guard, and had not only borne the brunt of the battle, but had suffered from the effect of their cupidity. Of the cavalry but twenty-three remained mounted, all the artillery had been lost, and every musket thrown away in the flight.
Velasquez de Leon had fallen in the early part of the retreat, bravely defending the rear; and several others among the leaders had also fallen, together with all the prisoners whom they had brought out from the capital.
The remains of the army straggled on into the town of Tlacopan, but Cortez would allow of no halt there. At any moment the exultant Aztecs from the capital might arrive and, in a battle in the streets, the Spaniards would stand no chance, whatever, with their foes. He therefore hurried the soldiers through and, when outside, endeavored to form them into some sort of order.
It was necessary to give them a few hours of repose, and he led them towards an eminence, crowned by a temple, which commanded the plain. It was held by a party of natives; and the troops, dispirited and exhausted, refused at first to advance against them; but the influence of Cortez, backed by the example of his officers, had its usual effect. The column moved forward against the temple, and the natives, after a few discharges of missiles, abandoned the place.
It was a large building, affording ample shelter for the Spaniards and their allies. Provisions were found there, and a large supply of fuel intended for the service of the temple. Here, lighting great fires, they dried their clothing, bound up their wounds and, after partaking of food, threw themselves down to sleep.
Fortunate it was for the Spaniards that the Mexicans, contented with the slaughter they had inflicted, the plunder they had captured, and most of all with the prisoners whom they had carried off to be sacrificed on their altars, retired to the capital, and allowed the invaders twenty-four hours' breathing time. Had they pressed them hotly and relentlessly, from the moment when they emerged from the causeway, they would have annihilated them; for at that time the Spaniards were too worn out, and dispirited, to be capable of any effectual resistance. Food and rest, however, did wonders for them. They were hardy veterans, and with Cortez and the leaders they most trusted with them, they soon came to look at matters in a more cheerful light.
They were still stronger than they were when they first marched upon Mexico. Why, then, should they despair of making their way back to Tlascala, where they would have rest and friends? They knew there was a long and painful march before them, and probably desperate battles to fight; but in a fair field, they felt themselves a match for any number of the enemy; and when, late in the evening, their officers bade them form up and prepare for a night's march, they fell in steadily and willingly; and Cortez felt that they could again be relied upon, under every emergency.
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.
Roger was sitting in the evening, conversing with Maclutha and Amenche on the probabilities of the battle that was expected to take place on that day, when Cuitcatl suddenly entered. His robe of bright feather work was gone. The panache of floating plumes was shorn from his head. His white garment was stained with blood. He was overcome by exhaustion and grief.
No words were needed to explain what had taken place. Impossible as it had seemed, the Aztec army had been defeated. A cry broke from the two ladies, as he entered.
"The white man's God has triumphed," he said, "and the Aztecs have been defeated. You were right, Roger. Mere handful as they were, the white men have gained the day. Even now, I hardly know how it came about. Never did my countrymen fight more bravely. For hours, the Spaniards stood as a wall which we, in vain, tried to break. Thousands fell on our side, but not for a moment did we waver. Others took their places until, as the hours went on, the Spaniards grew weary, and victory seemed in our grasp. Their horsemen had charged through and through us, but though many chiefs were slain, it mattered little. The ranks closed up, and each time they fell back on their infantry, having achieved nothing. Their horses were weary, and their attacks grew more feeble.
"Already, our cries of victory were raised. An hour more, and not a Spaniard would have remained on foot. Just at this time my command had been ordered up, and we were fighting in the front rank.
"Suddenly I heard, from all parts of the field, loud cries. What had happened I knew not. We stood for a moment, irresolute, not knowing what had befallen us elsewhere. Then a panic seized my men. In vain I shouted and ordered. They were deaf to my voice. They were deaf to everything, save fear.
"I was swept away with them, as a leaf on a stream. When at last I freed myself from the torrent, and looked round, I saw that the whole army was in mad flight; while the whites and Tlascalans, like hounds in pursuit of deer, were hanging on their rear, slaughtering all they overtook.
"In vain I gathered a few men, and made a stand. It was useless. We were beaten down and overpowered. With the greatest difficulty I broke away and escaped; and had it not been for Bathalda, who fought side by side with me, I should have been taken by two or three fleet-footed Tlascalans.
"For the present, all is lost. The fight cannot be renewed tomorrow, and before the sun sets the enemy will have reached the borders of Tlascala, and will be safe there."
"But what was it that caused so sudden a panic in your ranks?" Roger asked.
"It was the death of Cihuaca, our leader. The Spanish horse, headed, as I hear, by their general himself, burst through our ranks, cut their way to his litter, overthrew his bodyguard, and slew him. His death would have mattered little, as the victory was already won. We needed no further orders. We had but to keep on fighting, and the end would soon have come. It was simply a panic. None knew what had happened. The word passed from man to man, 'All is lost!' and, like a herd of deer, our bravest soldiers fled. It is not a thing to reason about--the gods deserted us, and we were no longer men. That is all I can tell you about it."
And the chief flung himself down upon a pile of rugs. Wine and food were brought to him, and his wounds dressed.
"Roger," he said presently, "you must leave us, tonight. Those of my followers who have escaped will soon make their way back, and my authority will be unable to save you. The priests would head the movement against you. You would be bound and carried to Mexico, at once.
"The whites, in their march tomorrow, will pass along the road four miles to the north of this. Conceal yourself in a wood until morning, and join them as they come along.
"As to the future, you can make no plans, now. You know not whether Cortez will retire to the coast and take ship there; or whether he will remain at Tlascala, till reinforcements arrive from across the sea, and then again advance. When this is decided, you will know what course to take.
"Bathalda will accompany you. I have already given him orders to do so. He will bring down a message from you, when you know what course has been decided on."
"And if you go, dear, I will go with you," Amenche said, rising and putting her hand on Roger's shoulder. "Send for me, and Bathalda will escort me to you. I will bring such gems and gold as we can carry, so I shall not be a bride without a dower. You promise to send for me, do you not, Roger?"
"Certainly I do," Roger said, pressing her to him; "if I quit this land alive, you shall accompany me. I should be unworthy of your love, indeed, Amenche, were I to prove faithless to you now. I regard you as being as truly my wife, as if we were already married."
A short time afterwards Bathalda entered, and said that a number of soldiers were gathering in the courtyard, that some priests were among them, and that they were talking loudly about carrying the white man to Mexico, as a sacrifice to appease the wrath of the gods.
"There is no time to be lost," Cuitcatl said. "You had best go, Roger, before they surround the house and make escape impossible. I will fetch you a dark-colored robe, so that you may escape, unseen, by anyone who may be approaching the house on this side."
So saying, he left the room. Maclutha signed to Bathalda to follow her, and they went out, leaving Roger alone with Amenche.
The girl's firmness deserted her now, and she threw herself, weeping, into Roger's arms. He consoled her by his assurances that their parting would not be for long; and that the next time they met, whatever the circumstances, he would make her his own.
"If we retire, and you join me in Tlascala," he said, "we will be married by Father Olmedo, in Christian fashion. If I return hither to you, we will be married at once, in Mexican fashion, and go through the ceremony again, when we join the Spaniards."
A few minutes later Cuitcatl returned, as did Maclutha and Bathalda, the latter bearing a basket with some provisions. The parting was brief, for the servants had brought news that the soldiers were becoming more and more clamorous; and were threatening to force an entrance, if the white man were not handed over to them.
Bathalda and Roger left by a small door at the back of the house and, passing through the garden, took their way across the country. An hour's walking brought them to a wood, near the road by which the Spaniards would travel in the morning, and there they sat down and awaited daylight.
It was not until some hours after sunrise that the little army was seen approaching. On its flanks were large bodies of natives; who, however, contented themselves by hovering at a distance; except where the ground was impracticable for the action of cavalry, when they approached near enough to discharge their missiles at the line of troops. As the head of the column approached, Roger threw on his Aztec cloak and, accompanied by Bathalda, issued from the wood and ran towards them, and in two or three minutes reached the horsemen who rode in the van.
"Why, Sancho!" Cortez exclaimed, as Roger ran up. "Is it you? We all thought you had fallen in the fight on the causeway. I am glad to see that you are safe. How did you escape?"
"I was, like many others, your Excellency, seized by the Aztecs, pulled down the causeway, and thrown into a boat. I should have been taken to Mexico and sacrificed, had it not been that the commander of the boat was a young cazique, who had been my closest friend while dwelling in Tezcuco. He directed his men to row me across the lake, and took me to his house, which is but four miles away from here. There I have remained, having my wounds cared for, until now. He took part in the fight at Otompan, and returned last evening with the news of your wonderful victory, and that you would pass along here this morning.
"I had a narrow escape, last night, for some of the Aztec soldiers would have seized me and taken me a prisoner to Mexico; but the cazique aided me to escape, and gave me this follower of his, as a guide. He is the same man who accompanied me in my flight from Tezcuco, and brought me to join you at Tlascala."
"I am right glad that you have escaped, Sancho. Firstly, because every stout arm is sorely needed. Secondly, because Marina has grieved much for your loss. Truly, had you been her brother she could not have been more affected. She is in the center of the column. You had best tarry here until she comes along, and then join her. She will be rejoiced to see you again."
Marina was indeed delighted, when she caught sight of Roger's tall figure, and greeted him with much emotion. As they walked together, she heard how he had escaped; and she related to him how she, under the guard of the Tlascalans, had survived the terrible fight on the causeway; and then gave him a full account of the great battle, on the previous day.
"And what are we going to do now?" Roger asked, when she had finished her narration. "Think you that we shall proceed to the coast, and take ship for Europe?"
Marina tossed her head scornfully.
"You do not know Cortez," she said, "or you would not ask such a question. He is already thinking how he can return, and capture the capital."
"But unless he receives large reinforcements, that would seem impossible," Roger said. "You have yourself told me that, had it not been for the fall of the Mexican leader, nothing could have saved you from destruction. The Aztec loss was heavy, no doubt; but they can fill up their ranks and take the field again, in a week or two, with a force as large as that which fought at Otompan. They will not be dispirited, for they will know that it was but an accident which deprived them of victory, and will no longer deem the Spaniards invincible."
"It matters not," Marina said, carelessly. "Cortez will manage things. Whatever he undertakes, that he will carry out."
Late in the afternoon, the army arrived at the barrier across the road that marked the boundary of the Tlascalan territory. As they passed it, the native allies burst into cries of gladness; and the Spaniards joined in the shout, for to them, too, it seemed that their dangers were at an end, and that they had reached rest and abundance.
Cortez and the leaders, however, were by no means sanguine as to the reception they should meet with. Their alliance had brought misfortune upon the Tlascalans. Little more than one thousand out of the eight thousand men who had marched with them had returned to tell the tale. The rest had fallen in the defense of the palace, in the fighting in the streets of Mexico, in the passage of the causeway, or in the battle of Otompan.
What would the Tlascalans think, when they saw the broken remnant of the army, which had marched out so proudly, and knew that they brought on themselves the bitter enmity of the whole of the people of Anahuac? Might they not well be tempted to avert the wrath of the Aztecs, by falling upon the strangers, whose alliance had cost them so dearly?
At the place at which they halted for the night, a town of some fifteen thousand inhabitants, they were so kindly received by the natives that these apprehensions were somewhat laid to rest. The people came out to meet them, invited them to their houses, and treated them with the greatest hospitality. Here they remained three days, resting after their terrible fatigues.
They were visited here by Maxixca, the most influential of the four great chiefs of the Tlascalans. He had been their most cordial friend, on their first arrival; and his sentiments were in no wise changed by the misfortunes that had befallen them. Indeed, his admiration for them was heightened, by the manner in which they had withstood the whole power of the Aztec nation.
The cordial greeting, given to them by one whose counsels were of the highest authority in the Tlascalan nation, restored the confidence of Cortez; and he accepted the invitation to continue his march, at once, to the capital, which was some fifteen miles away. The sick and wounded were placed in hammocks, which were carried on the shoulders of the friendly natives; and as the army approached the capital, crowds of people flocked out to meet them, with cries of welcome, and escorted them into the city.
Cortez and his officers took up their abode in the palace of Maxixca, and the rest of the army were quartered in that part of the city over which he exercised special authority. Here they remained for some weeks, during which the wounded recovered from their injuries, the sick regained their strength in the bracing mountain air, and the whole army shook off the effects of the terrible hardships they had undergone, while retreating from Mexico.
Cortez, during this time, was confined to his couch. The wound on the hand, which he had received in the conflict in the capital, had been so inflamed and aggravated that he had lost the use of two fingers; and he had, in the retreat, received two severe wounds in the head, one of which became so inflamed from inattention, and from the fatigue and excitement he had gone through, that a portion of the bone had to be removed; and the general lay, for some time, at the point of death.
The news came, in a day or two after the army reached its resting place, that a party of five horsemen and forty foot, who had gone forward in charge of invalids and treasure from Tlascala, had all been massacred; and twelve other soldiers, marching in the same direction, had also been killed. Upon the other hand, they heard that all was quiet on the coast; and the friendly demeanor of the natives, there, was in no way changed.
Roger, seeing that for a time nothing could be done, and that the troops were all eager to retire to the coast, dispatched Bathalda, a few days after his arrival at Tlascala, to Amenche; to say that he considered it certain that the Spaniards would retire; and that, if she would come up to him in charge of Cuitcatl, whose safety he could guarantee, while in Tlascalan territory, they might be united; as Malinche had promised to obtain the consent of Cortez, who always encouraged marriages between his followers and the natives.
Before leaving, Bathalda handed to Roger a small bag.
"This," he said, "Maclutha gave to me, for you. It was for that purpose she drew me aside, before you started. She bade me not deliver it to you, unless I was compelled to part from you. It contains some of the principal jewels taken from the treasure house; and she said they might make you and the princess rich, when you reach home.
"They are useless to her. She has no children and, now that Cacama has gone, it is naught to her who rules over Tezcuco. Moreover, these are but a small portion of the treasure in her possession."
Roger sent his warm thanks to Maclutha and, after Bathalda had started, examined the contents of the bag, which he saw at once were very valuable--consisting of large pearls, diamonds, and other gems.
On the evening of the second day after starting, Bathalda returned, alone.
"I have very bad news," he said, "so bad that I hardly like to tell it. Four days since, an officer and guard arrived from Mexico, with orders to arrest Cuitcatl, who was reported by the priests in the neighborhood to have harbored a white man, and to have permitted him to escape. Maclutha and Amenche were also arrested, and though treated with every personal courtesy, were conducted to Mexico, where the official said they were, for the present, to remain in seclusion, in the royal palace."
Roger was stupefied by the news. What was to be done, he knew not. To desert Amenche was not to be thought of, and yet he saw no way of rejoining her, still less of rescuing her. In the present excited state of the Aztec population, it would be certain death to venture beyond the frontier of Tlascala.
He regarded his height, now, as the greatest misfortune. Had he been short and slight, he would have disguised himself as a Mexican, and under the guidance of Bathalda, have made his way to the capital; but with a figure which would be instantly remarked, wherever he went, this would be impossible.
He entered the palace, and sent in an urgent message to Malinche, who was nursing Cortez. She listened patiently to his narrative.
"I pity you, Roger," she said, when he had finished; "but there is nothing to be done."
"But I cannot march away and leave her," he said. "Rather than that, I will disguise myself and take all risks, even though I know that I must fail."
"You must have patience, Roger," she said. "Cortez will, I feel sure, recover."
"But if so, it will only be to march down to the coast," Roger broke in. "The whole army are eager to be off, before the Mexicans can gather their forces and be ready to fall upon them."
"The army may think what it likes, and wish what it likes," Malinche said, quietly. "I am sure that Cortez will not go down to the coast; and what he wills, he does. The others may grumble, but Cortez leads them like tame deer. When he is well enough to speak to them, they will listen and obey him. His thoughts, ill as he is, are all of a fresh march to Mexico."
Hitherto, Roger had been as desirous as any of his comrades of a return to the coast. It had seemed to him that there was no possibility of success, and he longed to be on his way to Europe, with his Indian bride.
But now everything was changed. He had come to have a faith in Cortez, almost as absolute as that entertained by the general's devoted followers; and he well knew that, if he still thought there was a possibility of a successful march to Mexico, that march would be made. He now, therefore, waited with impatience for Cortez to be on his feet again.
But the waiting was long and tedious. Four weeks passed before the general was again himself.
As soon as he became convalescent, the regulations which he issued for the army, and the orders that he sent to the coast, for every available man to be sent up to reinforce him, showed the soldiers that he had no intentions of retiring; and a remonstrance was signed, by a large number of officers and soldiers, against a further stay in the country. But Cortez was not shaken. He prayed them not to discredit the great name they had won, nor to leave their glorious enterprise for others, more daring, to finish. How could they, with honor, desert their allies who, at their persuasion, had taken up arms, and had shared their fortunes, and so leave them to the vengeance of the Aztecs? To retreat now would be but to proclaim their weakness, and give confidence to their foes.
If, however, there were any who preferred going home to the glory of this great enterprise, then in God's Name let them go. He would feel stronger, with but a few brave spirits with him, than if surrounded by a host of false or cowardly men.
The troops of Narvaez had been the loudest in their complaints, but they were silenced now by the enthusiasm with which the soldiers of Cortez responded to the appeal of their leader; and all agreed to postpone their departure, for the present.
A fresh source of danger speedily arose. Six Aztec ambassadors arrived, bearing presents, and inviting the Tlascalans to forget old animosities, and to enter into a treaty with them. All the nations of Anahuac, they urged, should make common cause in defense of their country; and they conjured them, by their common religion, not to allow the white men to escape from their hands; but to sacrifice them, at once, to their gods. These proposals were made at a solemn council, called to receive them.
There had, even before the arrival of the ambassadors, been a strong party in Tlascala who viewed the Spaniards, with hostility, as the authors of the heavy losses they had suffered; and as becoming, by their continued stay there, a burden to the state. The head of this party was the young chief Xicotencatl, who had led the Tlascalan armies in the desperate resistance they offered to the Spaniards, on their first coming. When the ambassadors had made their offers, he rose and urged his hearers to assent to the proposal; saying that it were better to unite with their kindred, and those of their own language, faith, and custom, than with these fierce strangers.
The young warriors enthusiastically agreed; but, happily for the Spaniards, the four great chiefs, one of whom was the father of Xicotencatl, were opposed to the proposal. Maxixca especially combated the idea.
"The Aztecs," he said, "are always false in speech, and false in heart. It is fear that drives them, now, to offer their friendship to the Tlascalans; and when the cause for fear has passed, they will again be hostile. What? Are we to sacrifice the white men to the gods--the men who have fought with us side by side against our enemies, and who are now our guests? Were we to act thus, it would be an act of the grossest perfidy."
Xicotencatl replied; but Maxixca, losing his temper, seized him and, with sudden violence, thrust him from the chamber. So unusual a step so astonished the assembly that it silenced all opposition, and the alliance with the Mexicans was unanimously rejected.
Confident now that the Tlascalans were to be trusted, Cortez sent out expeditions, composed of his own men and bodies of the allies, and inflicted terrible punishment on the districts where the isolated parties of Spaniards had been cut off and destroyed; and defeated the natives in several hardly fought battles, capturing their towns and enslaving the inhabitants.
Having thus restored the confidence of his followers and allies, he prepared for a forward movement. Martin Lopez, ship builder to the expedition, had escaped the slaughter on the causeway; and he now ordered him to build at Tlascala thirteen ships, which could be taken to pieces and carried on the shoulders of the Indians, to be launched on Lake Tezcuco. The sails, rigging, and ironwork were to be brought from the coast, where they had been stored since Cortez had sunk his ships.
The Tlascalans placed a great number of men at the ship builders' disposal. Timber was cut from the forest. Pitch, an article unknown to the natives, obtained from the pines. New arms were manufactured. Powder was made, with sulphur obtained from the volcanoes. And the work, heavy though it was, was rapidly brought to a conclusion.
While it was going on, however, a terrible scourge swept over the country. Smallpox, a disease hitherto unknown there, broke out on the seacoast and swept across Mexico, carrying off great numbers--among the victims being Maxixca, the faithful friend of the Spaniards; and Cuitlahua, Montezuma's successor.
The latter was succeeded by Guatimozin, nephew of the two last monarchs, who had married his cousin, one of Montezuma's daughters. Like Cuitlahua he was a gallant prince, and had distinguished himself greatly in the attacks on the Spaniards, in Mexico. He continued the preparations Cuitlahua had begun for the defense; but, like him, was greatly hampered by the fact that a large proportion of the tribes recently conquered by the Aztecs had seized the opportunity, caused by the confusion in the empire, to throw off their allegiance; the royal orders being really obeyed only by the population of the Valley of Mexico, itself.