Unobserved, they walked toward the two women, and Sandoval had already lifted his steel bonnet, preparatory to addressing the elder, when the page, pulling at his arm, pointed to the other, thus intimating that it was she who had sent the morning's message. At that moment, startled by the sound of their footsteps, the younger woman turned upon the young soldier a face more gloriously beautiful than any he had ever seen or dreamed of. It was that of a girl just entering womanhood, and was fair almost to whiteness, but with a dash of carmine glowing on cheeks and lips. The little head bore a wealth of hair that was dark brown, instead of jetty black, as was the case with most Aztec maidens. It was poised like that of a princess, but the great brown eyes were fixed upon Sandoval with a startled, pleading expression that, as he afterward said, pierced him like the keenest of Toledo blades.
So taken aback was he by this sudden apparition of youthful beauty, that the steel bonnet, with which he was prepared to make an elaborate bow, slipped from his hand and fell, with a loud clatter to the marble pavement. It would have rolled into the water had not the page captured and returned it to its owner. At this mishap the girl laughed, just a little rippling laugh, the elder woman bit her lip, and poor Sandoval, the picture of despairing mortification, looked as though about to hide his confusion in flight.
At this juncture the girl put some question to the page. At his answer she became very grave, and again looked appealingly at Sandoval. He, realizing that the time had come when he must either speak or ignominiously retreat, and so become a fit subject for mirth throughout all Mexico, opened his mouth and, after several abortive attempts, blurted out:
"I——that is, señorita, you——! I believe my brother, Don Juan——! You have exhibited an interest—— May I ask——? I mean, did you——?"
Here he paused, recalled by the expression of bewilderment on the girl's face, to the fact that she could not understand a word of what he was saying. She answered him, for all that, speaking so earnestly and with such musical accents, that poor Sandoval was completely bewitched, and, in spite of his ignorance of her meaning, would willingly have undertaken to listen to that sweet voice forever.
As she ended the words whose melody would linger in the ears of the embarrassed and shame-faced young soldier to his dying hour, there came a sound of other and harsher voices. Hearing them, the elder woman caught her companion by the arm and led her hastily away. Ere they disappeared, the girl looked back with a ravishing smile that said, as plainly as words of purest Castilian:
"I do not think you plain or awkward, or ill-favored, for I know you to be as true and brave a knight as ever plighted his troth to a maiden," and, from that moment, in his heart of hearts, was Sandoval's troth pledged.
Now he looked for the page on whom he relied to lead him from this enchanted wilderness. The boy had disappeared, and in his place stood two grinning dwarfs, with huge heads, grotesquely misshapen bodies, and thin, little legs that seemed illy calculated to support them. As Sandoval stared at them they returned his stare with interest, at the same time making diabolical faces and winking maliciously.
When he sternly demanded that they should lead him to the palace, they broke forth with a harsh cackle of laughter and danced about him like hobgoblins. Finally, tormented beyond endurance, he drew his sword as though about to attack them, whereupon they retreated beyond his reach with the lightness of thistledowns, and a speed that showed how little chance he had of capturing them. For an hour or so they amused themselves with impish torments of this young giant. When they at length disappeared, Sandoval found himself, flushed and breathless, standing before a cage of solemn-looking apes, whose appearance was so like that of his recent tormentors, that he could not help laughing in spite of his disgust. Fortunately, he was here discovered by some of the king's animal-keepers, who conducted him to a place from which he could see the Spanish quarters.
While Sandoval was undergoing these various and unique experiences in the royal gardens, Cortes and his companions were admitted to the presence of the king. Not having any reason to expect a visit from them at this hour, he was engaged in giving audience to many distinguished personages; ambassadors from other countries of the Western World, princes of tributary provinces or cities, caciques of recently conquered tribes, generals of his army, and the like, who had petitions to prefer or business to transact that required his personal attention.
Each of these was conducted into the throne-room by young nobles, who acted as ushers, and each, no matter how exalted his rank, was obliged to cover his gorgeous raiment with a robe of coarse nequen, and enter the presence barefooted. Approaching the king with many obeisances, and finally making the sign of servitude by touching first the ground and then his head with his right hand, the petitioner stood with downcast eyes waiting to be addressed before daring to speak. Each, as he was dismissed, retreated backward, and continued to make humble obeisances until he had passed from the room.
After watching this scene for some time with great interest, Cortes stepped forward, and, through his fair interpreter, abruptly demanded what had become of his young chief of Tlascalans.
"He is dead," answered Montezuma, simply, at which Marina staggered as though struck a heavy blow, and was scarcely able to translate the reply to Cortes.
"By whose hand?" demanded the Spanish leader, hotly.
"By the hand of no man, but by that of the gods."
"Where is his body?"
"No trace of it remains. If it were to be found I would deliver it to thee. If he had been slain by mortals they should be given to thee for punishment," replied the king, solemnly.
Nothing more was to be elicited; and, filled with rage, Cortes and his companions hastily departed, to consult as to what mode of revenge they should take, and upon whom.
They were followed, a few minutes later, by Sandoval, who, as he neared the Spanish quarters, was startled by seeing a man running toward him, hotly pursued by a crowd of priests and citizens brandishing weapons, and evidently intent upon taking his life. As he gazed curiously on this scene the young soldier was horror-stricken to recognize, in the well-nigh exhausted fugitive, his adopted brother, Huetzin the Toltec. Drawing his sword and springing forward with a loud cry, he succeeded in checking the pursuit long enough to enable the pursued to dart through a gateway of the old palace. As the rescuer quickly followed it was violently closed in the faces of the angry throng, whose prey was thus snatched from their very grasp.
Although Huetzin felt certain that some secret door or panel must offer a passage through the wall, against which he had run with such rude force, he realized, from past experience, the folly of attempting to discover it. Therefore, when he had somewhat recovered from the shock just received, he slowly and carefully retraced his way along the passage, in search of some other opening leading from it.
In the meantime the chief priest, who had discovered no sign of the fugitive since the door at the foot of the stairway was flung to in his face, had hastened on out of the underground labyrinth. He posted guards at all its exits, with the information that an escaped prisoner, who must be seized the moment he showed himself, was wandering about in it, and ordered a victim, selected at random from the temple cages, to be killed and his heart torn out. With this in his hand Topil made his way, undiscovered, to the private apartments of the king, reaching them just in time to anticipate the return of the monarch from the temple.
Feeling well satisfied with this portion of his morning's work, and being also convinced that the prisoner, who had twice eluded him, was still within his reach, the chief priest, after leaving the palace, made several calls on powerful nobles well know as being opposed to the king's present method of treating the invaders of Anahuac. These he invited to attend a secret meeting, to be held that very day, in a place well known to all of them, and in every case the invitation was gladly accepted.
While the priest was thus engaged Huetzin was wandering hopelessly through the black mazes of the underground passages, stairways, rooms, and hidden doorways, that he had entered so easily, but from which he now found it so impossible to escape. Some of the passages that he followed ended, as the first had done, with blank walls, while others led into chambers of greater or less size, as he discovered by groping his way around them. He was faint, weary, and aching in every joint, tortured by the pangs of hunger and a burning thirst. Above all, it seemed to the young Toltec that he must be going mad, as the horrors of his situation crowded thick and fast upon him. In spite of his dread of being recaptured by the priests, he shouted at the top of his voice, and the underground echoes jeered at him with hollow mockery.
Finally he found himself in a hall or chamber that seemed much larger than any he had yet entered, and here he managed to lose touch of the rough wall, along which he had felt his way until the ends of his fingers were worn to the quick. As he moved forward with uncertain steps, seeking to regain it, he stumbled against some large object, fell, and rolled partly under it. So far as he could tell by the feeling, it was a stone altar or table, covered with a heavy tapestry that hung in folds to the floor on all sides.
It was pleasant to encounter something besides cold stone, and instead of rising at once Huetzin lay still, passing his hands mechanically over the soft cloth. His thoughts became hazy and he seemed to be drifting into space. How much better it was to lie there than to wander aimlessly through those interminable passages as he had been doing for days—or weeks—which was it? He tried to remember, but could not. At any rate it was a long time, long enough for one to be dead, buried, and forgotten in. Perhaps he was dead! Yes, there came the white-robed torch-bearing priests who were to bury him. How perplexed they would be if he should hide his body so that the ceremony could not proceed. Of course he would give himself up after a while. Smiling to himself at the thought of this trick, Huetzin rolled still farther under the stone table, until he was completely hidden by its drapery. He lay very still, and must have fallen into a doze. At least he was not conscious of what was taking place about him until he was suddenly aroused by the word "Malinche."
Malinche was the native name for Cortes, and some one was saying, "Malinche must then be slain as he visits the king on the morrow. It is so decided. After his death the destruction of his army will be an easy matter, and Huitzil's altars shall not want for victims. As for the vile Tlascalans, they will serve to feed the altars of the lesser gods for many days of rejoicing."
No longer was Huetzin dozing, nor were his thoughts vague and uncertain. He was, of a sudden, as wide awake as ever in his life, and as clear-headed. Hunger, thirst, terror, and pain were all forgotten. He was listening to the details of a plot for the destruction of his friends and followers, and for the establishment on a firmer basis than ever of the cruel Aztec religion and its blood-stained priesthood. He dared not move, nor even to peep from behind his sheltering curtain to discover who these conspirators were. He hardly dared to breathe, and wished he could silence the beatings of his heart that seemed to him distinct above all other sounds.
From a faint glow that came through the tapestry he knew that the chamber was lighted by torches, and from the sound of footsteps on the stone floor he judged that a number of persons were implicated in the conspiracy. At length the glow began to fade and the footsteps to retreat. The meeting had broken up and its members were departing. Venturing to peer out Huetzin saw the last torch on the point of vanishing in the distant blackness, and springing to his feet he ran noiselessly after it.
He was thus guided along a narrow passage similar to those in which he had wandered so miserably, and around several corners. All at once he saw a torch coming directly toward him. A priest had been sent back for some mislaid article. The young Toltec crouched close beside the wall. The priest did not discover him until he was within a few paces of the crouching figure. Then, as he peered uncertainly at it, Huetzin launched himself forward with a spring like that of an ocelot. In an instant the priest was borne to the ground, while the torch, flung far from him, flickered and expired. He attempted to cry out, but a fierce clutch at his throat changed his cry into a choked gurgle. His struggles were futile in the iron grasp of this monster of the darkness, and within a minute he was bound hand, foot, and mouth with strips torn from his own robes.
Leaving him thus, Huetzin sped noiselessly and swiftly away in the direction taken by the others. He was so fortunate as to again see their lights as the last one was passing through a doorway leading to a flight of steps. He heard a voice say, "Let it remain open for Amatli," and was content to wait until all had ascended the stairway and disappeared.
Then the young Toltec crept cautiously up the stone steps, which were disclosed by a subdued but blessed daylight. From their top he could see a door opening on to a street. Between him and it were two armed guards engaged in earnest conversation. Their backs were turned to him, and stealing breathlessly to where they stood, he bounded past them to the doorway. They were after him in an instant, with loud cries, but he had already gained the street. He knew not where he was, and ran blindly, though with the fleetness of a deer, while an ever-increasing mob of soldiers, priests, and citizens followed in hot pursuit. Had he not caught sight of the great temple he must have fallen an easy prey to this army of pursuers. Even with the hope inspired by this familiar landmark his strength would have failed to take him to the shelter of the Spanish wall, had it not been for the opportune appearance of Sandoval with his flashing sword and gallant war-cry.
Once inside the gate, and realizing that he was again safe from his fierce pursuers, the unnatural strength that had sustained him so long gave way, and Huetzin staggered as though about to fall. Numbers of Spaniards and Tlascalans sprang to his assistance, but Sandoval was the first to reach him, and lifting the youth in his mighty arms as though he had been an infant, he bore him to his own quarters. Here, under the rough but skilful ministrations of the young soldier, Huetzin revived sufficiently to beg for water and food, neither of which he had tasted for many hours. These being brought, he ate and drank until, fearful that he would do himself harm, Sandoval took them from him.
Greatly refreshed and strengthened, Huetzin now asked for Marina, and when the girl appeared, full of wondering pity at the evidences he bore of his recent experiences, he requested her to obtain for him an instant interview with the commander concerning a matter of vital import. Cortes had just learned of the reappearance in the flesh of one whom the king had, but an hour before, declared dead, and was coming to investigate the miraculous resurrection when Marina met him with Huetzin's request.
The young chieftain had expected to go to the General, and was covered with confusion when the latter came to where he was, as though he had sent for him. He would have risen, but the commander insisted that, by his sufferings, he had won the right to lie still. So, seating himself beside the pile of mats that formed Sandoval's couch, and on which Huetzin now lay, Cortes listened with the gravest attention to an account of all that had happened to the young warrior since the preceding evening. When the latter came to a description of the underground meeting of conspirators, the leader's face grew very stern, and at the conclusion of the recital he exclaimed:
"Thou hast done well, my young lord of Titcala, and even thy recent sufferings are amply rewarded by the news obtained through them. Thus forewarned I am of the opinion that we shall find some means for checkmating these burrowing water-rats. How say you, Don Gonzalo?"
"If not, then shall we well deserve the fate they plot for us," answered Sandoval, to whom this question was addressed.
"Art sure that thou hast a heart still beating in thy breast?" suddenly demanded the General of Huetzin. "I was told, not long since, that a god had torn it from thy bosom, also that a fair lady of the king's court was expressing anxiety concerning thee."
"My heart is still in my own keeping, in spite of gods and fair ladies," replied Huetzin, though with Marina's blush reflected on his own face; "neither do I know any lady of Montezuma's court, unless indeed it be my sister Tiata, who is but a child, and is, I fear, no longer to be found in any earthly court or city."
That night Cortes convened a council of his captains, whom he told of the plot to kill him. He proposed to defeat this by being first in the field and making a prisoner of Montezuma himself. As an excuse for so high-handed a proceeding, he would bring up an affair, of which he had learned while at Cholula, but had deemed best to keep to himself until now. It was nothing less than an attack on the Spanish garrison at Vera Cruz, by an Aztec cacique named Quapoca, who claimed to have acted by direct orders from the king. In this engagement, though the Indians were ultimately defeated, the Spaniards, including Juan Escalante, the commandant, had been killed.
Armed with this excuse, Cortes, having requested and been granted an audience with the king, set forth for the palace at an early hour on the following morning. He was accompanied by Sandoval, Alvarado, and three other cavaliers in full armor. One of these was Huetzin, clad in armor provided for the occasion, and differing in no point, that the eye could detect, from a Spaniard. It was arranged that after Cortes and his companions were admitted to the king, other Spaniards, to the number of a score or so, should stroll into the palace, a few at a time, and remain within supporting distance in case of need. The rest of the troops, with the exception of a strong patrol on the avenue leading to the palace, were drawn up, under arms, in the courtyard of their quarters.
Montezuma received his guests with the utmost composure, and, through Marina's interpretation, chatted pleasantly with them for half an hour. At the end of that time Cortes, perceiving that a sufficient number of his men had assembled just outside the audience chamber, demanded of the king why he had ordered an attack to be made on Vera Cruz.
Although startled by the suddenness of the accusation, the king denied that he had done so.
Cortes professed himself willing to believe this, but requested that the cacique who had led the attacking force be sent for, that he might be examined.
To this Montezuma consented, and handed his signet to an officer, with the brief command that Quapoca be brought to Tenochtitlan.
After the officer had departed the Spanish commander proposed that, in order to prove his sincerity and place himself beyond suspicion of such an act of treachery against his Spanish friends, the king should transfer his residence to the palace occupied by them and remain as their guest until all questions in connection with this unfortunate affair should be settled.
As he listened to this proposal Montezuma turned deadly pale, and then his face flushed with indignation. "Do you dare doubt my word? The word of a king!" he demanded.
"Did not your majesty inform me of the death of my chief of Tlascalans but yesterday?" asked Cortes.
"If I did, it is because he is dead! A king cannot lie!" was the passionate answer.
"But he may be mistaken, and if so in one case, possibly in another," replied Cortes. At the same time he beckoned to Huetzin to step forward and unbonnet.
The young man did so, and as the king gazed on his well-remembered features it seemed for a moment as though he would fall in a fit, so terrified and horror-stricken was his expression. For a minute he could not command his voice, then, in a low tone, he said:
"The victory is thine, Malinche! So long as this son of Tlahuicol lives, the anger of the gods will not be averted from me or my kingdom. I will go with you."
Cortes immediately issued orders for the royal litter to be brought, and as the nobles who bore it hesitated to obey the stranger, the king assured them that it was his pleasure to visit his white friends. As the royal train, under a strong Spanish escort, passed through the street, its nobles walking with bowed heads and sad faces, the news spread like wildfire that the king had been taken prisoner, and was being carried off by force. On every side armed men seemed to spring from the ground. Ere they were half-way to their own place, the Christians were confronted by such a furious mass of humanity that, but for the intervention of Montezuma himself, they would have been forced to fight against desperate odds. Actuated either by superstitious cowardice or policy, the king assured his tumultuous subjects that he was going, of his own free will, to visit his friends, and ordered them to retire peaceably to their homes.
Thus, without a drop of bloodshed, was the powerful but superstitious monarch of the great Aztec nation taken prisoner by a handful of determined white men, and kept under their guard for months in the very heart of his own capital. It seems incredible that such could have been the case, but all historians vouch for its truth.
Montezuma was allowed spacious quarters and every semblance of royal authority, but was never again given his liberty. Quapoca came, was tried, condemned, and executed by the Spaniards, but their greater prisoner was not released. His subjects were granted daily audience with him, but they were only admitted a few at a time, and must pass the scrutiny of a strong Spanish guard always maintained in the royal antechamber.
This new order of things was hardly established before Sandoval began making inquiries as to the name, rank, and nationality of the beautiful girl with whom he had held so delightful, and, at the same time, so unsatisfactory an interview in the royal gardens. To his dismay he could learn nothing. No one to whom he applied could tell him aught concerning her, and she seemed to have disappeared as absolutely as though translated to another sphere. Even the page who had conducted him to her was not to be found. Sandoval enlisted the services of both Marina and Huetzin in the search, but they were equally unsuccessful with himself.
The young Toltec had, by this time, acquired so fair a knowledge of Spanish that he was able, after a fashion, to converse with his friend without the aid of an interpreter. Taking advantage of this, Sandoval would talk with him for hours concerning the object of his incessant thoughts. He declared his willingness to resign all the treasure he had acquired since coming to Mexico, if, by so doing, he could gain another interview with the maiden. This was no mean sum, for, in one way and another, the Spaniards had collected some six and a half millions of dollars in gold alone, to say nothing of an immense quantity of silver, jewels, and costly fabrics.
With all his wealth and bravery, poor Sandoval could discover no means of accomplishing the desire of his heart, and so sank into such a state of melancholy as to attract the attention and arouse the anxiety of Cortes himself. This acute observer, believing hard work to be the best lightener of a heavy heart, and being in want of a trusty governor for the important post of Vera Cruz, forthwith appointed the unhappy young soldier to the position, and despatched him to his new sphere of action.
By this time the entire Aztec kingdom seemed truly to have passed under the dominion of the white conquerors, and that almost without a struggle. Not only did Cortes levy tribute and dispense justice in the name of the king, but he compelled Montezuma to publicly announce himself a vassal of Spain. Although the Aztec priesthood and religion were not yet overthrown, the Spaniards had erected a cross on the summit of the great temple, and here their worship was conducted by the side of that of the Aztec gods. Two brigantines, or small sailing vessels, were built and armed, for the command of the Tezcucan lake, and in no direction was the power of the Spaniards disputed. Several incipient rebellions had been so promptly reported to the Conqueror, though in so mysterious a manner that he could not trace his information to its source, that he was enabled to crush them before they came to a head. In the name of the king, who was but a passive tool in his hands, he arrested and held captive several reputed leaders of these rebellions, and among them Cacama, Prince of Tezcuco.
Some months were passed thus peacefully, and Huetzin, tired of inactivity, as well as hopeless of discovering the fate of Tiata, whom he mourned as dead, was about to apply for permission to return to Tlascala, when one day there came a letter from Sandoval that changed the whole current of events. It contained the intelligence that a Spanish hidalgo, named Narvaez, in command of a fleet of eighteen vessels, and an army of a thousand men, well supplied with horses, artillery, muskets, and ammunition, had landed on the coast. This new-comer claimed to have authority from the Governor-General of the New World to supersede Cortes, and assume supreme control of the great kingdom he had conquered. By virtue of this authority he had summoned Sandoval to surrender Vera Cruz, and announced his intention of immediately marching on Cortes in Tenochtitlan. Upon this Sandoval had placed his little garrison in the best possible state of defence, answered Narvaez that he would surrender when he had orders from his commander to do so, but not before, and now awaited instructions.
In this grave emergency the white conqueror did not hesitate a moment to consider his course of action. Taking with him two hundred troops, he set out at once for the coast, where he proposed to at least test the strength of the new-comer before submitting to his authority. He left Alvarado, the "Tonatiah" of the Aztecs, behind in command of the city; with him were also left one hundred and forty Spaniards, Huetzin with his Tlascalans, and all the artillery.
As Cortes and his little army marched out of the city, Montezuma, in the royal litter, accompanied him as far as the great causeway. There, on the spot where they had first met, these two parted, with every mark of mutual esteem.
Hastening with all speed back over the road he had learned so well a few months before, Cortes led his little band across the valley, over the lofty pass of its mountain wall, to the wide-spread table-land of Puebla. Traversing this, by way of Cholula and Tlascala, the Conqueror finally crossed the eastern Cordilleras, and plunged into the sea of tropic vegetation that revels in the damp heats of the Tierra Caliente.
Narvaez had established himself at Cempoalla, with the intention of using the Totonac city as a base of operations against Vera Cruz. But Sandoval realizing that with a force of sixty men, as opposed to a thousand, discretion was by far the better part of valor, did not wait to be attacked. He slipped away during a night of stormy darkness, and when, on the following morning, his empty and echoing barracks were summoned to surrender, their late occupants were effectually hidden behind a league or more of the well-nigh impenetrable forest in which they had disappeared. Making a great circuit, so as to elude pursuit, carefully avoiding all highways, and suffering incredible hardships in trackless forests and wild mountain defiles, Sandoval and his handful of men at length effected a joyful junction with the slender force under Cortes.
They brought such news of the carelessness with which the camp of Narvaez was guarded, and concerning the dissatisfaction of his troops with their leader, that Cortes determined to attack him without delay. Through the alternate downpours and steaming sunbursts that mark the rainy season of the tropics, the little army advanced to the bank of a small river in the vicinity of Cempoalla, without being discovered. Here, while they lay concealed, they had the satisfaction of seeing Narvaez sally forth at the head of his troops, march as far as the opposite bank of the swollen stream, receive a thorough soaking from a heavy shower, and then, apparently convinced that his rival was nowhere in that part of the country, march back again to his comfortable quarters.
That night, in a pelting storm, the veterans of Cortes forded the stream, bracing themselves against its rushing current with the long copper-headed chinantla pikes obtained from the Aztecs. Two only were carried away by the flood, and the rest, advancing swiftly and stealthily, soon found themselves in the deserted and storm-swept streets of Cempoalla. Here, ere an alarm was given, they were so completely masters of the situation that, although Narvaez and his guard made a brave show of resistance, the moment the former fell, dangerously wounded, his entire army surrendered.
On the following morning their submission, which was accompanied by the laying down of their arms, was formally accepted by Cortes. Then the troops so recently opposed to him were re-enlisted, but this time under his victorious banner. Not only were their arms and other property restored to them, but they received liberal presents of the gold he had won from Aztec treasure-houses. Narvaez and his principal adherents were sent in chains to Vera Cruz, and his fleet was dismantled of its sails, rigging, and portable iron-work. Thus Cortes became again, without question, the supreme ruler of Mexico.
Just as these matters were so happily adjusted, and he was considering an extensive plan of new exploration and conquest, his attention was abruptly recalled to Tenochtitlan. Late one night a weary and wayworn native warrior reached the Christian camp, and, being halted by a sentry, who was one of Narvaez's men, demanded, in broken Spanish, to be conducted to the General, for whom he claimed to have an important communication. The sentry, being extremely suspicious of all Indians, including those who spoke Spanish, stood stoutly on the defensive, with levelled pike, and called loudly for the captain of the guard. This officer, who happened to be Sandoval, came hurrying to the post, attended by the watch, one of whom bore a lantern. The sentry had only begun to tell of the treacherous Indian who was seeking admission to the commander, undoubtedly with designs against his life, when the lantern light flashed full in the warrior's face. As it did so a cry of delighted recognition came from the captain of the guard. Springing forward, he embraced the newly arrived stranger, calling him Don Juan and his brother, to the intense mystification of the gaping soldiers, who were witnesses of this unprecedented performance.
Bidding the watch retire, and the sentry resume his beat, Sandoval led Huetzin to his own quarters, where, after he had partaken of the food he showed every evidence of needing, the latter inquired:
"Hast thou not heard of the uprising in Tenochtitlan, and the perilous situation of thy friends?"
"Not a word," replied Sandoval.
"Then were the messengers captured as we feared. Full a dozen were sent out, but in each case the altar of the great temple was shortly after drenched with human blood. Two were Spaniards, and the rest warriors of my own band. We were hemmed in on all sides, nearly all were wounded, and all were exhausted with fighting and constant alarms. Without succor we could hold out but a few days longer.
"At length, satisfied that no one of our messengers had escaped from the city, I sought, and obtained permission from the lord Tonatiah to make the attempt. It was granted and I ventured forth. I could not escape by water, as the city is surrounded by an unbroken chain of canoes, and so was forced to seek the causeway of Iztapalapan. It was night, and being disguised, even as I now am, to resemble a tamane, I set forth with strong hopes of escaping unnoticed. They were unfounded; for before I had gone a hundred paces from the gate I was conscious of being observed and followed. As far as the end of the causeway was I allowed to go, but there I was waylaid and overcome by so strong a force that even had I been armed, resistance would have been in vain.
"As I was being led toward the temple by my captors, who shouted for joy that Huitzil would not lack for a victim that night, we were met by a priest, who called on them to halt until he could examine their prisoner. A light was brought, that exhibited my features without revealing his. He evidently recognized me, for he said, in a low tone and in the Mayan tongue: 'If thou canst escape the altar of Huitzil for this, the third time, O son of Tlahuicol, then will the power of the blood-loving gods be broken forever. Go, and may the gods of thy Toltec ancestors go with thee.' Then, with an angry voice he roundly abused my captors, saying to them that they had made a mistake, and arrested one who was a patriot like themselves. While he thus held their attention I slipped away, and now, the causeway being unguarded, I escaped across it, and have in three days' time made my way to this place."
"But why should an Aztec priest exert himself in thy behalf?" demanded Sandoval.
"Because," answered Huetzin, "he was Tlalco the Toltec, of whom I have told thee as aiding my first escape."
"Tlalco," mused the other; "was not that the name of a priest who was ever about Montezuma, and apparently exercised so great an influence over him?"
"He is the same."
"Then he is the priest of all priests whom I am most anxious to meet. I have cause to believe that he can give me information concerning the lady of my heart, over whose loss I do so grieve that until I find her again I am unfitted for a soldier."
"From what source gained you this idea?" queried Huetzin.
"I heard, not long since, from him who was a king's page. He is some kin to the Totonac cacique, and in return for a favor I rendered the latter, he sent me word that my life's happiness was in the hands of Tlalco the priest. At first I could make nothing of so ambiguous a message, but after much consideration I think I have solved its meaning. Now, therefore, the dearest hope of my life, next to one, is to meet with this same Tlalco."
"Then!" exclaimed Huetzin, "as he is not to be met short of Tenochtitlan, let us hasten the meeting as much as we may, by reporting the present state of affairs at once to my lord Malinche. It grieves me to think of the hunger and suffering, the weariness and despair of thy countrymen and my brave Tlascalans, whom I left penned in yonder city like trapped eagles. Speaking of pages, I heard that in spite of the strict watch maintained about our quarters a new one gained admittance in some way, and was taken into the king's service the very day I left. They said he was one of those handsome youths for whom the king expresses such a preference."
As Sandoval's impatience to make a start for the Aztec capital was equal to Huetzin's own, they proceeded to the quarters occupied by Cortes, and in spite of the lateness of the hour, obtained an audience. To the commander the young Toltec gave a full and detailed account of what had taken place in Tenochtitlan since his departure from that city. According to this Alvarado had been secretly informed that the Aztec priests, taking advantage of his weakness, had planned his destruction, and the rescue of Montezuma, by a general uprising, which was to take place during the feast of the Incensing of Huitzil. As the day of the feast approached they asked that the king might be permitted to assist them in their ceremonies. This request was refused, and Alvarado, recalling the summary vengeance taken by his commander on the Cholulans for planning his destruction, determined to adopt similar measures in the present case. He therefore caused the greater part of the force at his command to gather about the scene of festivities as though out of curiosity. At a given signal these fell upon the priests, nobles, and others, engaged in the ceremonial dance, and slew them to the number of six hundred.
At this the whole city rose in arms, drove the Spaniards to their quarters, and, in spite of a devastating fire of artillery, made assault after assault against the walls. Only at command of their king, whom Alvarado persuaded to appeal to them, did the assailants withdraw. Then they began a regular siege, burning the Spanish brigantines, throwing up works about their quarters, cutting off their supplies of water and provisions, and arresting all who attempted to pass either in to or out from them. "So desperate is their condition," concluded Huetzin, "that, unless my lord furnishes speedy relief, there is naught before them save starvation or the altars of the Great Temple."
For answer, Cortes simply said, "The army marches at daylight, and do thou, Gonzalo, give instant orders, in my name, to that effect."
So untiring were the efforts of Sandoval and his associates during the remainder of that night, that by sunrise the army of rescue had left Cempoalla. It consisted of about one thousand infantry, of whom nearly one hundred were armed with muskets, and as many more with cross-bows, a hundred cavalry, and a well-provisioned train of artillery. In three days they reached Tlascala; and Huetzin, who had obtained permission to hasten to this point in advance of the army, rejoined it with a welcome reinforcement of two thousand Tlascalan warriors, all eager to be led against their hereditary foe.
While the army halted at Tlascala, the aged chieftain of Titcala offered to one of the newly arrived cavaliers so great a sum in gold dust for his horse, a dainty sorrel mare, that the offer was promptly accepted. This purchase was immediately transferred to Huetzin, of whom his grandfather was so proud, that he was determined to give the young warrior an opportunity for making as brave an appearance as any of his white comrades. Thus Huetzin, raised to a pinnacle of proud happiness by his new possession, became the first native of the new world to own and bestride one of those marvellous animals which, but a year before, had been spoken of throughout all Anahuac as either gods or devils. He named his mare "Cocotin" (little girl), and, under the skilful teachings of Sandoval, who was almost as delighted to see him mounted as he was to be so, he soon became an expert horseman.
From Tlascala the conquerors made all speed over the rugged Cordilleras, though this time, as a measure of precaution, taking a more northerly route than that traversed before. On the western brow of the mountains it presented the broad Mexican valley from an entirely different point of view. It gave, however, the same exquisite picture of shimmering lakes with white-walled cities and villas resting on their bosoms, fire-tipped teocallis, dark groves, blooming fields, and encircling walls of distant blue, that some of them had gazed on before. At their feet lay the city of Tezcuco, shaded by cypresses, while, far across the shining waters, rose the inscrutable walls of Tenochtitlan, either the prison or the grave of their friends.
Their fears that it was the latter were aroused, as they descended into the valley, by the coolness and even rudeness of their treatment by its inhabitants. As they entered the city of Tezcuco, where they proposed to rest for the night, their reception was even more chilling than any yet experienced. No one came forth to give them welcome, and, as they marched through the silent streets, only a furtive face, peering now and then from a doorway, proved that any living soul still remained in the city. These things raised uneasy forebodings, not only in the mind of Cortes, but throughout all his army, as to the fate of Alvarado and those with him, and they would have given much for news from the distant city. Not only would it put an end to their suspense, but by it their future movements could be determined. At a time and in a manner that they least expected it, the news came.
The night had passed quietly, and Huetzin, who had charge of the morning watch, stood on the shore of the lake, noting the rosy flush of morning redden the snow-fields of towering Popocatepetl. A mist hung over the waters that hid their farther shore and the city in which he had dared and suffered so much. As he gazed in the direction of Tenochtitlan, he became aware of moving forms out on the lake, dimly disclosed through the lifting fog. They were advancing toward him, and soon resolved themselves into two canoes, one behind the other. In a moment Huetzin saw that in the first a slight youth was paddling with a desperate energy, and evidently endeavoring to escape from the other. In the second a man, clad in the white robe of a priest, was laboring with an equal effort, and, by his superior strength, was surely gaining on the other. After them more canoes shot out of the mist, all coming from the same direction, and all advancing at their utmost speed.
A light craft lay drawn up on the shore, not far from where the young Toltec stood, and, as a wild cry for aid came quavering across the waters from the foremost canoe, Huetzin, first giving an alarm to his own men, sprang into it, and put forth to the assistance of the hard-pressed fugitive. As he did so, the man robed like a priest, who led the pursuit, dropped his paddle, seized a bow lying in the bottom of his boat, and stood up, with a copper-tipped arrow drawn back to its head. Huetzin uttered a cry of horror as the cruel shaft sped on its deadly errand, and sank deep in the back of the flying youth, striking him squarely between the shoulders. As the stricken lad fell forward, there came an exultant cry across the still waters: "Thus deals Topil with the enemies of his gods!" Then his canoe was spun around, and joined those of the other pursuers in an unharmed flight across the lake, though a dozen bullets were sent whistling after them, by the few musketeers who had been attracted to the shore.
Although Huetzin heard the priest's words plainly enough, he did not, at the moment, realize their full meaning. Filled with sorrow for the young stranger whom he had just seen so cruelly shot down, and who he felt must be a friend, he drove his own craft rapidly to where the other lay drifting. Its occupant, who seemed a mere boy, clad in the picturesque costume of a king's page, lay, face downward in a pool of his life's blood that was forming in the bottom of the canoe. The arrow had been sped truly, and with a deadly force.
As Huetzin, stepping into the canoe, lifted the lad to an easier position, a filmy scarf wound about his head, fell off, and a wealth of auburn hair tumbled over his shoulders. Then a pair of glorious, brown eyes were opened, and fixed full on the face of the Tlascalan warrior. The latter grew rigid, as though from a numbing shock. The very blood in his veins turned chill. A voice that he had thought never again to hear, came to his ears. It was very faint, but the words were clear and distinct:
"Huetzin, my brother! My dear, dear, brother! I knew you would come, though they said you were dead. You are fighting for the true faith, for the old faith, are you not, dear? I, too, have done what I could. Now I am dying for it. Gladly. Help me to make the sign, Huetzin. The holy sign of the Toltecs. There. Now it—is well. Huetzin!—Father!—Mother!——" The brown eyes closed gently, like those of an infant dropping into peaceful slumber. The queenly head sunk back on the strong arm supporting it; there came a soft sigh, and, as the rising sun burst in full glory from behind snow-crowned Popocatepetl, the spirit of Tiata mingled with its flood of brightness.
Like one who dreams, Huetzin sat with the light burden in his arms, gazing at the calmly beautiful face of his dead sister, but seeming to see far beyond it. There was that in his expression that caused those who came to his assistance to respect his silence, though they knew not that the form, which he held, was other than what it appeared. Very gently they led his canoe to land, and, when its prow grated on the beach, he rose and stepped out, still bearing his burden. They offered to relieve him of it, but he paid no heed. As he lifted it a letter addressed to the Spanish commander fell to the ground. It was from Alvarado, and it contained the news, so longed for, that the garrison still held out. It concluded: "Were it not that I realize the great importance of this word to you, and that your movements will be guided by it, I should not strive to send it. Almost certain death awaits any messenger who attempts to pass the lines that the priests, who are heading this insurrection, have drawn about us. No ordinary despatch bearer could cross them. I am sending this by a king's page, a brave lad, who has volunteered for the service, and will get through the lines if it be in the power of mortal to do so. I heartily recommend him to your favor, and pray that no harm may befall him."
While this letter, borne hastily to Cortes, was being read by him, Huetzin, taking no notice of proffered assistance, and still appearing like one in a dream, bore his dead to his own quarters, and laid the slender form on his own bed. He had barely deposited his sorrowful burden, when Sandoval, who, hearing that something had gone amiss with his friend, had hastened with ready sympathy to find him, entered the room.
"What has happened thee, Don Juan, my brother?" he began. Then, catching sight of the dead girl, lying so peacefully, he stopped as though struck with an instant dumbness, clutched at his own throat, and staggered back so that, but for the wall, he must have fallen.
Surprised from his own grief for the moment, Huetzin sprang to his friend, crying: "What is it? What ails thee, my brother? Art thou stricken with death?"
With a mighty sob, that sounded like the breaking of a heart, Sandoval answered: "Thou hast said it, for I am indeed stricken with death. There lies she who held my life, and if she has taken it not with her, still it is gone from me, so that none other may ever hold it. I know not even the name by which she was called, yet did I know her soul as though it were mine own."
"She was Tiata, my sister," answered Huetzin, in a whisper.
"Then are we indeed brothers, and more than brothers," replied Sandoval. With these words he left the room, nor was he seen again by living soul that day.
The brave girl who had risked and lost her life in bringing Alvarado's message to Cortes, was buried that same day, at sunset, amid the drooping cypresses and perfumed flowers of the royal garden of Tezcuco. During the day, Marina, and a few young Tezcucan girls whom she persuaded to venture timidly forth from their homes, lined the grave with a plait of sweet-scented grasses. When Tiata had been laid gently within it, there was erected above it a snow-white cross, the symbol of the Toltec faith, for love of which she died. It was a day of sadness in the deserted city, for the story of the great sorrow that had fallen on both Huetzin and Sandoval was known to every soldier and warrior. At the young Tlascalan leader they cast glances of respectful sympathy, but Sandoval was seen of no man that day. When, on the following morning, he reappeared among them, none dared speak to him of what had happened, for to his face had come that look of sternness that it held to the day of his death, and which caused even the boldest to shrink from incurring his displeasure.
From Tezcuco the army swept around the southern shore of the salt lake, to that same great causeway over which the first triumphal entry had been made into Tenochtitlan. Then, they had barely found room to advance amid the welcoming throngs of spectators with which it was crowded. Now, save for their own heavy tread, it was silent and deserted. Then, the sparkling waters on either side had swarmed with swift canoes filled with eager sight-seers. Now, only an occasional craft was to be seen stealthily regarding their movements from a distance and darting away like a frightened water-fowl when attention appeared to be attracted to it. Even from the far-reaching city, before them came no sound, nor was there sign of life. A death-like stillness brooded over the entire scene, and it filled the hearts of the advancing troops with an ominous dread. To dispel this, Cortes ordered the trumpets to sound a merry blast. Its echoes had hardly died away before they were answered by a glad roar of artillery from the distant fortress, in the heart of the city.
With this evidence that the little garrison still held out, and that the cross was still uplifted in the very shadow of Huitzil's temple, the troops entered Tenochtitlan with lighter hearts and a brisker tread. As they marched through its silent streets, these appeared even more deserted than had those of Tezcuco. The active population of former days had vanished, and the tramp of iron-shod hoofs only awoke melancholy echoes from empty houses. The veterans, who had seen these same streets teeming with eager multitudes, gazed about them in bewilderment, while the levies of Narvaez jeered at them for having, with all their boasted prowess, only conquered a city of the dead.
Finally they came to the Spanish quarters. The great gates behind which their friends had been besieged so long, were flung joyously open, and the new-comers were received with greetings as hearty as they were sincere. To the veterans little seemed changed since their departure. Some traces of the siege, in the shape of fire-blackened buildings and shattered walls, were to be seen here and there, but Montezuma was still a prisoner; military order still prevailed, and, with the advent of this fresh army, there was every reason to believe that the former state of affairs would speedily be restored. Thus Cortes believed, and thus he wrote to the officer whom he had left in command at Vera Cruz.
Only two comparatively unimportant matters gave him any uneasiness. One of these was the escape of Cuitlahua, the king's brother, and thus heir to the Aztec throne, which had been made only a few days before. The other was Montezuma's complaint that Tlalco, his favorite priestly adviser, was no longer permitted to visit him. When Cortes questioned Alvarado concerning this, the latter denied having refused admittance to any person whom the king desired to see. He added that he had noted the absence of this particular priest, but had accounted for it by supposing that he had joined his fellows in inciting the present insurrection. Both Huetzin and Sandoval deeply regretted that they were unable to question Tlalco concerning certain matters. Knowing what they did of his personality, they feared lest it should have been discovered by the chief priest, in which case they knew there was little hope of ever again meeting with the devoted Toltec.
A day or two after his arrival, Cortes, having completed his despatches for Vera Cruz, entrusted them to a messenger who was ordered to proceed to that fort. He set forth; but in less than half an hour, came flying back, terror-stricken and covered with wounds. "The city is in arms!" he cried. "The drawbridges are raised, and no avenue of escape is left!"
Even as he spoke, his words were confirmed by a dark flood of Aztec warriors, sweeping down the great avenue, like some mighty tide that has burst its limits. At the same time the parapeted roofs of neighboring buildings were covered with a multitude of slingers and bowmen, who seemed to spring into existence as though by magic. As the astonished Spaniards gazed on this sudden repopulating of the deserted city with warriors instead of traders, the dread tones of the great serpent drum, thundering forth from Huitzil's temple, proclaimed that the Aztec gods had at length awakened and were about to wage a pitiless, unrelenting war against all followers of the cross.
The ominous booming of the war-drum was instantly answered by the ringing notes of Christian trumpets, summoning every man within the palace-fortress to his post. Their call was so promptly obeyed that ere the tawny Aztec wave reached the wall, every musketeer, cross-bowman, and gunner was in place, and waiting.
A blinding flight of arrows, darts, and stones, from the Aztec front, and a storm of missiles from the house-tops, together with a fierce yell from ten thousand Aztec throats, opened the battle. In reply came a rattling volley from Spanish guns, that mowed down hundreds of the advancing hosts. But they did not falter. Again and again they charged, dashing themselves with impotent fury against the low stone wall separating them from their enemies, and, time after time, the same murderous volley drove them back. Hundreds of them, upborne by hundreds more, scaled the walls, only to fall victims to the Tlascalan maquahuitls, that sprang to meet them from the opposite side. They tried to effect a breach with battering-rams, and to set the quarters on fire with blazing arrows. The woodwork of some of the buildings was soon burning briskly, and a few rods of wall were levelled; but the fire died out without injuring the more substantial portions of the buildings, and a grinning battery lay in wait behind the breach. Like crouched tigers the black guns seemed to leap at the swarming foe, and in a few minutes the breach was choked with lifeless human bodies. Still the battle raged with unabated fury until, with the coming of night, both sides were thankful for a respite.
With earliest sunrise the Spaniards were again under arms and at their posts, but only to see the streets and squares swarming with a more numerous and determined foe than had attacked them on the preceding day. In its approach to military order the hand of the warlike Cuitlahua was visible. Instead of being a disorderly mob, the Aztec force was drawn up in compact bodies, each under its own leader. Above them streamed banners emblazoned with the devices of many cities, while over all soared a golden eagle, bearing in his talons a writhing serpent, the proud cognizance of the Montezumas, and the standard of the Aztec nation. Among the crowded ranks, fierce priests were everywhere to be seen promising the protection of the gods, and inviting their followers to deeds of valor. The gorgeous feather mantles and golden bucklers of the nobles glistened in the morning sun, while above the cotton-armored, or naked ranks of the humbler warriors, a forest of tossing spears reflected his rays from their myriad gleaming points.
As Cortes had determined to take the offensive in this day's fight, he ordered a general discharge of artillery and musketry to be poured into the thickset Aztec ranks before they had made a movement of attack. Under cover of the resulting confusion, the gates were thrown open, and out of the smoke clouds the Spanish cavalry dashed forth in a resistless charge. They were supported by Huetzin with a thousand Tlascalan warriors, and such was the fury of their onslaught that, for several blocks, the Aztecs were swept helplessly before it. Their precipitate flight ended at a barricade of timber and stones, that had been thrown across the great avenue during the night. Here they made so determined a stand that the Spaniards, galled by their hurtling missiles, and an incessant rain of stones from the neighboring house-tops, were compelled to retire.
Two heavy guns, advanced on the run by scores of lusty Tlascalans, soon levelled the barricade. But it had served as a rallying-point for fresh battalions of the enemy, by whom an attempt of the Spaniards to repeat their brilliant charge was doggedly and successfully resisted. Regardless of wounds or death, numbers of them would, at a signal, dart under the horses' bellies and cling to their legs, while others strove to fell the riders from their saddles.
It was fortunate for the bulk of the Spanish army that the efforts of the Aztecs were invariably directed toward the taking of prisoners, rather than to the killing of their enemies; though to the unfortunates thus captured and dragged away for sacrifice, instant death would have been infinitely preferable. Everywhere the Spaniards found barricades erected, and at these points were massed fresh bodies of Aztec troops, impatiently awaiting their turn to plunge into the fray. No matter how often they were repulsed or how many of them were killed, they appeared to the disheartened whites to swarm in undiminished numbers, and with unabated courage.
So the day was spent in a steady succession of petty, but desperate engagements. At its close, although the Spaniards had been everywhere victorious, they were exhausted and filled with gloomy forebodings, while their adversaries seemed more confident and in a better humor for fighting than at the beginning of the struggle.
All night long they gathered outside the Spanish quarters, taunting the invaders with their helplessness, now that the gods were awake. "The altars of Huitzil thirst for your blood!" they cried. "But soon they will be drenched with it, and the wild beasts of the palace shall feast on your carcasses! The knives of sacrifice are sharpened!—and cages for fattening await the lean and hungry Tlascalans!"
So fierce was the Aztec temper, that, with earliest dawn of the third day of fighting, they were swarming at the walls. So determined was their assault, that, ere they could be driven back, nearly a thousand of them had leaped inside, and gained the courtyard. Although these fought with a desperation that resulted in serious injury to the garrison, most of them were quickly despatched by the Tlascalans, among whom they had appeared. A number, however, escaped, and darted into the numerous buildings of the old palace. Here, though the Tlascalans pursued them like ferrets after rats, they managed to set numerous fires, kill or wound several persons, stab Cortes himself through the hand, and do an immense amount of mischief before being finally hunted down and destroyed. A few more assaults as desperate and successful as this would seal the fate of the besieged, and, even to the bravest, their situation began to appear alarming.
In this strait, Cortes appealed to his royal prisoner and urged him to use his influence with his subjects to bring about a cessation of hostilities. This, Montezuma at first refused to do; but, when assured that the invaders would willingly leave the city if a way were opened to him, he finally consented. Arrayed for the occasion in his most kingly robes, he was escorted to the roof of the central turret of the palace by a brilliant retinue of those Aztec nobles who still shared his fortunes, and a number of Spanish cavaliers.
In the streets below the battle was raging furiously; but, as his subjects recognized their monarch, the din of clashing weapons and fierce war-cries instantly ceased. The tumult of war was succeeded by a stillness as of death. Many of the Aztecs prostrated themselves to the ground; others bowed their heads; but some gazed, unabashed, and even defiantly, at the king, whose weak-minded superstition had lost him his kingdom. More than one of these daring spirits secretly fitted an arrow to his bowstring, and nervously fingered it. In more than one breast a sacrilege was meditated that, though certain to be avenged by the gods, might, after all, be for the best. But first they would hear what this dishonored king had to say.
He was bidding them disperse, and do no further harm to his friends the white men, who, if allowed, would willingly return whence they came.
This would never do! The priests of the war-god were greedy for the victims, who were on the point of surrendering themselves. Should they be balked of their prey by this king, who was already as good as dead? Never! Let him die, and be no longer an impediment to their vengeance! With him out of the way, the destruction of the Christians and their base allies would be an easy matter! Then would the gods rejoice! Then would their favor be restored! and again would Anahuac take her proper place as leader of the nations! Down with Montezuma! Long live Cuitlahua! To the altars with Spaniard and Tlascalan!
So whispered the busy priests, darting from one to another. The whisper grew into a murmur, and it quickly rose to a storm of fierce cries.
Now was the time! An arrow, aimed by a subject at his king, hissed through the air. A cloud of arrows followed it. Spanish bucklers were interposed too late, and, as Montezuma fell, a frenzied yell of triumph arose from the multitude.
Then a reaction set in. What would the gods do? "To the temple!" was the cry. "The priests must plead for us!" The priests themselves spread this shout, exulting, as they did so, in its evidence of their unimpaired power. So the throngs hastened away toward the temples, until, in a short time, not a person remained in the great square fronting the Spanish quarters.
In the meantime, Montezuma, borne tenderly below, and laid on his royal bed still dressed in his robes of state, was dying. The priests of his own race came not near him. They had no use for a dying king! Already were they busy with preparations for crowning another, who would heap their altars with victims, and add to their power, until they should become objects of fear and worship, even as were the gods themselves. Already was Topil, the chief priest, preparing a sacrifice such as had not been known at an Aztec coronation for nearly four centuries. He had a Toltec in reserve for the altar. Not only that, but a Toltec who had masqueraded as an Aztec priest, and had been detected in a vile conspiracy against the gods. Besides, he had a few Spaniards in his dungeons, and when had Christian blood been spilled at an Aztec coronation? Never before!
So Montezuma, the king who might have been all-powerful, died, because of his superstitious weakness, and the gods did not avenge his death, but allowed Cuitlahua, his brother, to reign in his stead.
The great temple of Huitzil stood so near the ancient palace in which the Spaniards and their allies were quartered, as to overlook it. A quantity of stones and heavy timbers had been conveyed to its summit under cover of darkness, and one morning the Christians were dismayed to find these thundering down on them from the lofty height. At the same time came such flights of arrows, as denoted the presence on this vantage ground of a large body of warriors. In connection with this attack, came another of those furious assaults on their works, of which the enemy seemed never to tire. It was at once realized that if they would escape speedy destruction, the temple must be carried, and Cortes detailed one hundred men, under Escobar, the chamberlain, for the purpose.
Three separate charges did this officer and his brave followers make in their effort to capture the huge teocal; but each time they were repulsed with serious loss. Finally, Escobar returned with but half his men, leaving the others where they had fallen. He, and all of the survivors, were wounded, some of them so severely that they died soon after, and the capture of the temple was reported to be an impossibility.
Cortes declaring that nothing was impossible, that the place must be captured, and that he would either accomplish it or die in the attempt, detailed another storming party of three hundred Spaniards, and two thousand Tlascalan warriors. These last were headed by their young chieftain, while the whole force was led by the General in person. Fifteen minutes of furious fighting forced a passage through the throng of Aztecs occupying the temple court, and placed the assailants at the foot of the first of the five flights of stone steps by which the top was to be reached.
Leaving the Tlascalans and a score of musketeers to repel the Aztecs, who were making constant efforts to regain possession of the court, the leader, closely followed by Sandoval, Huetzin, and the other gallant cavaliers of the storming party, sprang up the first stairway. On each of the terraces above them stood strong bodies of the enemy to dispute their passage. These showered down arrows and darts, together with great stones and massive timbers. Most of the latter bounded harmlessly over the heads of the scaling party, but every now and then one would crash into their ranks, and, sweeping some of the unfortunate Spaniards from their narrow foothold, hurl them lifeless to the bottom. In spite of the terrible odds thus presented, the dauntless conquerors fought their way foot by foot, from terrace to terrace, and from stairway to stairway, ever upward, until at length the lofty summit was attained.
Here, in sight of the whole city the opposing forces closed in furious combat, of such a phenomenal nature, that all other hostilities were suspended by mutual consent, in order that this death-struggle in mid-air might be watched without interruption. The priests of the temple, seeming more like demons than human beings, with their blood-clotted locks and savage aspect, fought like such. They rushed at the Spaniards with incredible fury, and, in many cases, forced them over the awful brink, willing to sacrifice their own lives in the leap to death, if they could only carry the hated Christians with them.
Once, in the midst of the fighting, Huetzin heard his own name called in accents of despair, and saw his brother Sandoval whose sword had snapped off at the hilt, struggling with half a dozen of these fiends, who had forced him to within a few feet of the edge. In a moment the young Toltec had hewed a way to his friend's side, and in another Sandoval was free to snatch the sword of a dying cavalier, and plunge once more into the thickest of the fight. For three dreadful hours did the combat rage. At the end of that time a remnant only of the gallant band of assailants remained masters of the bloody arena. Every Aztec, priest, noble, or warrior, had either been slain, or hurled from the giddy height.
Some of the survivors entered the sanctuary where sat the frightful image of Huitzil, the war-god. Bound to the altar in front of it they discovered a man. His eyes were torn from their sockets; his limbs were broken, and he bore other evidences of the most diabolical tortures. That he still lived, in spite of all, was attested by his feeble moanings. For a moment the victors paused aghast at the sight. Then one from among them sprang forward, and knelt beside this pitiful victim of the most hideous religion known to the New World. He was Huetzin, and in the cruelly mutilated form before him, he still recognized Tlalco the Toltec, the priest who, on three separate occasions, had saved him from a like awful fate.