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CHAPTER XVI.
A SACRIFICE OF CHILDREN, AND WHAT IT PORTENDED
As the ancient capital of his father's race, Huetzin regarded the city of Cholula with an intense interest. It was a source of real sorrow to him that it, rather than another, should be selected as the sacred city of the Aztec priests. His eyes blazed with indignation on seeing the flames of Aztec altars rising from the mighty pyramid erected by his Toltec ancestors, a thousand years before, in honor of their bloodless religion.
This most colossal monument of the New World rose to a height of two hundred feet, and its base covered forty-four acres, an area twice as great as that occupied by the Egyptian pyramid of Cheops. It was a venerable pile when the Aztecs took possession of the land and erected on its summit a magnificent temple, which they dedicated to Quetzal. With the advent of their cruel religion began those daily human sacrifices that drenched its altars with blood for two centuries, or until the coming of the white conquerors. Other temples sprang up about that of Quetzal, each demanding human victims, until the number of those annually sacrificed, in Cholula alone, was over six thousand.
No sooner was Huetzin left with his command than he began to put into practice some of the lessons he had learned from his new friends. His first care was to establish a chain of sentinels and advanced pickets about his camp. Then he sent out small scouting parties in various directions to glean all possible information regarding any other troops that might be discovered in that neighborhood. Finally, after darkness had fallen, disguising himself in the coarse and mud-stained garments of a maker of pottery, whom he had caused to be captured for this purpose, he made his own way into the city.
Once among the streets he avoided those places in which the Spaniards were being lavishly entertained by the caciques of Cholula, and threaded the more distant but populous quarters. He was struck with the number of people still at work, in spite of the lateness of the hour. Masons appeared to be repairing house-walls in all directions, and quantities of stone were being carried to the roofs for their use. Laborers were making excavations in the streets, apparently for foundations; woodchoppers were hewing numbers of posts into sharp-pointed stakes. Many old people, women, and children were also to be seen, and all of these appeared to be removing household goods.
At length, in the most remote part to which he penetrated, Huetzin came upon that which caused his blood to boil, and, at the same time, filled him with horror. Several hundred persons were grouped about the entrance to a small temple. They were silent, almost to breathlessness, and were evidently intent upon some scene being enacted within. Every now and then a stifled cry, apparently that of a child, came from the interior of the temple.
Determined to discover what was taking place, Huetzin, by patient and persistent effort, finally forced his way to the very front rank of the spectators, and in another moment was as anxious to make good his retreat from this position as he had been to gain it. For fully a minute he was so tightly wedged in by the eager throng about him that to move was impossible, and he gazed with a horrible fascination at the awful scene disclosed through the open doorway by the flickering light of its lurid altar flames. It was a scene of human sacrifice, though not one of such every-day occurrence that the spectators were wholly hardened to it. It was a sacrifice of children; and, as one pitiful little victim after another was roughly seized by the blood-stained priests and laid beneath the merciless knife, a suppressed shudder passed through the gaping throng. Still no manifestation of disapproval was made, and every eye eagerly followed the motions of an aged priest, whose scanty white locks were blood-reddened like his body, and to whom each little heart was handed still palpitating, as it was torn from a child's breast. He was an augur, and was watched with a breathless interest as he sought for omens from the dread thing held in his hand. As each was tossed aside, evidently unpropitious, a murmur of disappointment arose from the spectators, and more than once Huetzin heard the remark: "The hour is not yet come."
Finally, sick with horror, and raging with a furious anger, the young Toltec could bear it no longer. With a stifled cry he burst through the encircling throng of human wolves, and in spite of angry words and even blows, forced his way into the open space beyond them. When once more free he fled, he knew not whither, filled with a tumult of thought the central idea of which was vengeance. At length he reached his own camp, heart-sick, and exhausted by the strength of his emotions. Here he received the reports of his scouting parties, and learned several things, which, added to his own information, kept him in a state of wakeful anxiety until morning.
At the earliest possible hour he sought an audience with the Spanish leader, to whom he imparted his fears that some deep-laid plot for the destruction of the invaders at this point was in preparation. He told Cortes of the Aztec army discovered by his scouts hidden in a valley but a short distance from the city; of the exodus of those too old or feeble to fight; of the piles of stones secretly accumulated on the house-tops adjoining certain streets; of the pits dug in those same streets and artfully concealed, after being lined with sharp-pointed stakes; of the various chance expressions that he had overheard; and of the awful, but unusual, sacrifice of children of which he had been an unwilling eye-witness. At the same time he expressed it as his belief that the hour had not yet come for springing the trap thus set. It was evident that the portents were not yet favorable, and everything seemed to be awaiting further orders, probably from Montezuma himself. From the nature of the preparations it seemed likely that nothing would be undertaken until the Spaniards were ready to leave the city and continue their march.
Marina, who interpreted this communication, added some suspicions of a similar character, that she had gleaned from certain unguarded utterances of the wife of a Cholulan cacique, with whom she had formed an acquaintance.
Although the conqueror was not one to be easily alarmed, yet he was prudent and ever on the watch for treachery among those surrounding him. So important did he deem the information just given him, that he at once doubled his precautions against a surprise. After thanking the young leader of Tlascalans for his vigilance, he requested him to return to his own camp, continue his work of acquiring a knowledge of what was taking place in and about the city, and to hold his warriors in readiness for instant action.
When Huetzin had departed, Cortes turned his attention to his immediate surroundings. He ordered that no Spaniard should pass beyond the walls of the temple enclosure in which they were quartered. Nor should one lay aside his arms, on any pretext, for a moment. The horses of the cavaliers were kept saddled and bridled, ready for instant service, and the artillery was posted beside the three gateways in the temple walls, in a position to sweep the streets leading to them.
While these preparations were being made, Marina's new acquaintance, the garrulous wife of the cacique, came to pay her a visit. In a short time the Indian girl, pretending to be anxious to escape from the Spaniards, had drawn from her a full account of the conspiracy, which, she said, originated with Montezuma. The Christians, on attempting to leave the city, were to be led into the streets prepared with pitfalls, into which it was expected the cavalry would be precipitated. In the resulting confusion they were to be attacked from the housetops and by the Aztec army that was in waiting, when their easy destruction was deemed a certainty. Even a division of the anticipated captives had already been made, and, while a certain number were to be retained for sacrifice on Cholulan altars, the remainder were to be led in triumph to Tenochtitlan, in the leathern collars, affixed to the ends of stout poles, that were even then prepared for them.
Having agreed to a plan for taking flight to the house of this talkative acquaintance that night, Marina dismissed the woman and hastened to lay the plot before Cortes. The latter, summoning his captains, disclosed it to them and asked their advice as to what course should be pursued. Some of them, in despair at the imminence of the threatened peril, advised an instant return to Tlascala, if not to the coast. Sandoval, Alvarado, and others of stouter hearts, declaring that such a retreat would certainly insure their destruction, advised that in boldly facing the danger, and continuing their onward march at all hazards, lay their only safety. Cortes agreed with this, and added that at no time since they entered the land of Anahuac had the thought of retreat been further from his mind than now.
He then sent for some of the Cholulan caciques and announced his intention of leaving their city early on the following morning. He desired that they should furnish him with a thousand porters for the transport of his artillery and baggage, and should themselves act as his guides to the limits of their domain. These requests they willingly promised to grant, and were dismissed.
That night there was little sleep in the Spanish army, and all held themselves in readiness for an attack. The period of darkness was, however, passed in peace, and through the night no sound broke the stillness of the city, save the hoarse voices of the priests proclaiming the hour from the summit of its lofty teocallis.
CHAPTER XVII.
PUNISHMENT OF THE CONSPIRATORS
Cortes had determined to anticipate the treachery of the Cholulans and the meditated destruction of his army, by a punishment so terrible that its effect should be felt throughout all Anahuac. He intended that a wholesome dread of the white conquerors should be implanted in every Aztec breast. By earliest dawn he was on horseback, perfecting his arrangements for the coming tragedy. The musketeers and cross-bowmen were placed close under the walls of the temple courtyard, and the pikemen were stationed near the three entrances. Here, too, the gunners, under command of Mesa, chief of artillery, renewed their primings and blew their matches into a brighter glow. The cavalry, headed by Cortes in person, was held in reserve to act as emergencies should dictate.
At the same time, silent but active preparations were being made in all parts of the city, though, of course, unseen by the Spaniards, for their destruction. As every Cholulan to whom the secret was known fondly hoped, the hour was at hand in which the boasted prowess of these invaders should come to naught and they should be sacrificed to the wrath of the Aztec gods. Everywhere the exulting natives swarmed to the housetops along the designated line of march, and stationed themselves near the ample stores of missiles already gathered; or they collected in armed bodies, whispering, but jubilant over the perfection of their plans, in the side streets, from which they were to leap, like mountain lions, on their helpless prey. The Aztec army, secretly prepared for this emergency, entered the city, and so swelled the number of assailants that no Cholulan doubted for a moment as to which side should be granted the victory in the coming conflict. So, impatiently and joyously, they awaited the signal with which their triumph would begin.
Outside the city Huetzin's grim Tlascalans, each with a fillet of grass bound about his head to distinguish him from an Aztec or a Cholulan, awaited the signal that should send them into action with an equal impatience. They too were without a doubt as to the result of the battle. Had they not fought against the white conquerors? and did they not know, from bitter experience, the extent of their terrible powers? What would avail the puny efforts of the pottery-making Cholulans against beings before whom even the mountain warriors of Tlascala could not stand? That they should dare, for a moment, to oppose the white conquerors, to say nothing of themselves, was a subject for scornful mirth in the Tlascalan camp. As for Huetzin, he was filled with the nervous anxiety of a young commander about to engage in his first battle. Of this, however, he effectually concealed all traces in the presence of his warriors, to whom he presented a calm and cheerful countenance. His friend and brother, Sandoval, had urged him to don a cap of steel, such as were worn by the conquerors themselves; but this, Huetzin had firmly declined, saying that he would wear no armor that could not be equally shared by his warriors. Now, therefore, he was clad as they were, in a doublet of quilted cotton, and wore on his head a simple fillet of grass. Above it waved the graceful plume of a white heron, which, with his Spanish sword, formed the distinguishing badges of his rank.
The sun had hardly risen before the Cholulan Caciques, who were to guide the Spanish army through the city streets, presented themselves at the temple and were admitted. They were followed by a thousand or more of tamanes, who, as the quick eye of Cortes instantly detected, were all armed with weapons, of one kind or another, thrust into their girdles. These were halted in the centre of the court, while the Caciques advanced, with smiling faces and complimentary words, to where the Spanish commander sat on his gray steed. Their smiles were quickly exchanged for expressions of consternation; for, with scornful words, Cortes began to charge them with their treachery, and showed himself to be acquainted with all the details of their conspiracy. He recalled the apparent friendliness with which they and their king had invited him to Cholula, and the mask of hospitality with which they had covered their base designs. Now he demanded to know what they had to say for themselves, and whether any form of punishment could be too severe for such perfidy.
The trembling Caciques were overwhelmed by these terrible words, and a memory of the supernatural powers credited to these mysterious strangers, who seemed able to read their most hidden thoughts, came back to them. They dared not deny the accusation just made, and so made a full confession of the conspiracy, only striving to lay the entire blame upon Montezuma, by whose orders they claimed to have acted, and whom they dared not disobey.
Merely regarding this as a further evidence of Cholulan cowardice, and declaring that he was now about to make such an example of them as should cause their false-hearted king to tremble on his throne, Cortes raised his hand. At the signal every Spanish musket and cross-bow was levelled, and so deadly a volley of bullets and bolts was poured into the dense body of natives, huddled together like sheep in the middle of the court, that they fell by scores. Then the soldiers leaped forward to complete their work with sword and pike.
In another moment the combined throngs of Cholulans and Aztecs, gathered outside the walls, hearing the sounds of strife, advanced, with exulting cries, to an attack upon the Spaniards. As they rushed forward there came a burst of flame full in their faces, and, with a thunderous roar, increased tenfold by reverberations from enclosing buildings, Mesa's guns hurled forth their deadly tempest. Ere the bewildered natives could comprehend the nature of what had happened, the cavalry was upon them with sword, lance, and trampling, iron-shod hoofs. By the onrush of succeeding hosts these were driven back; but again Mesa's reloaded guns swept the narrow streets. Again and again were these tactics repeated with frightful losses to the natives and almost none to their adversaries.
In the mean time, Huetzin's warriors, dashing forward like tigers at sound of the first volley, fell on the rear of the swarming Aztecs with such fury that none could withstand them. Dismayed and panic-stricken the townsmen gave way and took refuge in their houses. Even here the fierce Tlascalans pursued them, and setting fire to such structures as were of wood, soon caused whole blocks of buildings to be enveloped in flames.
Ever in the front, using his keen Toledo blade with deadly effect, Huetzin cheered on his followers. Suddenly he detected a body of skulking priests who had come from all the temples of the city to share in the anticipated victory of their benighted adherents. Now they were seeking safety in flight. Like a flash of light came a vision of innocent children torn to death by these human wolves, and, with an inarticulate cry of rage, the young Toltec darted after them. A number of his warriors sprang to his side, and, as the priests dashed up the long flight of steps leading to the summit of the great pyramid, the Tlascalans were close on their heels. Hardly had the panting fugitives gained the upper platform, ere others, who had already sought this place of refuge, rolled great stones down on the heads of their pursuers.
Many a mountain warrior was swept, lifeless, to the bottom of the vast pile before the survivors obtained a foothold on its summit; but, once there, these took ample revenge for the death of their comrades. The cowardly priests, who had heretofore urged others to fight, but who had themselves wielded no weapon save the bloody knife of sacrifice, now fought for their lives, but with no more effect against Huetzin and his fierce Tlascalans, than if they had been so many carrion crows. The face of the murdered Tlahuicol rose before his son's vision, and the despairing cries of thousands of priestly victims rang in the ears of the young Toltec as he closed with the mob of blood-stained wretches who sought in vain the protection of their gods. With no thought save of vengeance, he leaped among them, his sword drinking life blood with every stroke. Animated by his example, his followers dealt death-blows on all sides with a fury only excelled by his own.
From the top of the wooden temple in which the image of the god was enshrined, the Cholulans poured down javelins, stones, and burning arrows. Snatching a blazing brand from an altar, Huetzin set fire to the building, and, with the aid of some Spaniards, who now appeared on the scene, he dragged the great idol from its pedestal, and hurled it, crashing, down a side of the lofty pyramid, at the base of which it was shattered into a hundred fragments.
Priest after priest shared the fate of the god, by leaping from the blazing turrets of the temple, or flung over the parapet by the Tlascalans. Finally Huetzin, with the fury of battle in his face and the blazing eyes of a young war god, looked about him in vain for another victim. None was left, and, for the first time in two centuries the great temple of his Toltec ancestors was freed from its defilement of blood-thirsty Aztec gods and their vile priests.
As he realized this, a solemn joy took possession of the young warrior, and, though he was bleeding from many wounds he felt them not. He seemed to hear the myriad voices of his forefathers united in praise and blessing, and for a moment he stood in rapt unconsciousness of his surroundings. Then, lifting his eyes to the glowing noonday sky, he reverently and slowly traced the sacred symbol of the God of the Four Winds.
At this moment he was recalled to earthly things by a mighty hand-grasp, and the hearty tones of Sandoval's voice, saying, "Thou hast done nobly, my warrior brother! I came in time to witness the conclusion of thy fighting, and never saw I a more finished bit of work. Thou hast indeed smitten the idolater in his stronghold, and here, on the site of yonder smoking temple, shall thou and I erect a goodly cross, the holy symbol of thy religion and of mine."
CHAPTER XVIII.
FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE MEXICAN VALLEY
After four hours of fighting and slaughter, Cortes concluded that the lesson thus given the Cholulans was one that would not be speedily forgotten. So he withdrew his forces to their own quarters, at the same time ordering the Tlascalans back to their camp. The mountaineers bore with them quantities of plunder, mostly things of every-day use in Cholula, but so rare in the poorer city of Tlascala as to be deemed luxuries. They also carried off nearly a thousand prisoners whom they intended to devote to slavery. Through the influence of Huetzin, who vividly remembered his own sufferings as a prisoner of war, and recalled the charge given him by the chief of Titcala to be merciful in the hour of victory, these were ultimately released and allowed to return to their homes.
The young Toltec, with the permission of Cortes and accompanied by Sandoval, also visited every temple in the city, and, throwing open the doors of their cages or dungeons, gave freedom to hundreds of wretched prisoners who had been doomed to sacrifice. The only service required of these, in return for their liberty, was that they should bury the victims of the recent battle. As the dead numbered nearly three thousand, and as their bodies were exposed to the hot sun in all parts of the city, their speedy removal was a matter of prime necessity.
In spite of this sad record of fighting, burning, slaughter, and pillage, no woman or child in all Cholula had been harmed by either Spaniard or Tlascalan. This fact went so far toward restoring confidence in the honor and forbearance of the white conquerors that, when Cortes issued a proclamation inviting all citizens to return to their homes with an assurance of safety, the invitation was generally accepted. Thus, within a few days, the city had nearly recovered its former air of peaceful prosperity. Markets and workshops were reopened, the streets were filled with a busy population, and only the blackened ruins lining certain streets remained to tell of the fiery ordeal through which Cholula had so recently passed.
During this period of peaceful occupation by the conquerors, not only was no human sacrifice offered to the humbled Aztec gods, but no priest dared show himself in the presence of Huetzin, the Toltec. From the hour of his terrible vengeance upon the priests of Quetzal's temple, he was known through the length and breadth of Anahuac as a bitter enemy of the Aztec gods and a relentless persecutor of their priests. He aided in erecting the cross of stone and lime on the summit of the great teocal, that Sandoval had promised should stand there; and, as he gazed at it in earliest morning light, or when bathed in the glory of a setting sun, he felt that the spirits of his ancestors must, indeed, be regarding his work with approval.
As the news of the punishment inflicted by the white conquerors upon the treacherous Cholulans spread through the land, numerous embassies began to pour into the Christian camp, with tenders of allegiance from provinces and cities, which gladly seized this opportunity for throwing off the galling Aztec yoke. All brought the same tales of cruelty and extortion; of oppressive taxation that left them impoverished; of their young men forced to serve in Montezuma's armies, and of the yearly tribute of slaves, which they were compelled to furnish from their own families.
Besides these petty, but always welcome, embassies, there came an imposing one, laden with presents, from the Aztec king. It brought assurances of that monarch's distinguished regard for the noble Spaniards, as well as his regrets for the unfortunate affair of Cholula. He disclaimed any share in the conspiracy, and rejoiced that so summary a punishment had been meted out to its authors. He explained the presence of one of his own armies in the vicinity of the city, on the ground that it had been sent to protect the Spaniards from any treachery on the part of their base Tlascalan allies.
Pretending to believe these fair, but false words, Cortes dismissed the embassy courteously, but without any message to their royal master. This, he said, he would shortly deliver in person, as he intended to proceed, without further delay, to Tenochtitlan.
After spending a fortnight in Cholula, and strengthening his position on all sides, the Spanish commander issued orders for leaving the sacred city and resuming the march toward the Aztec capital. On a glorious morning of early November, therefore, the allied forces again set forth, filled with the high hopes inspired by their recent victory, and impatient to enter new fields of conquest.
For several leagues their way lay through a smiling country of broad fields, luxuriant plantations, and thrifty villages, watered by numerous clear streams pouring down from the adjacent mountains. During their passage through this pleasant land Huetzin heard frequent rumors from friendly Indians of trouble that was in store for the invaders in the mountains that must be crossed before the Mexican valley could be reached. He faithfully reported these rumors to the commander, and, in consequence of them, the march was conducted with every precaution that prudence or military science could suggest. Advance and rear guards of cavalry were always maintained, while small bodies of Tlascalan scouts were thrown out on either side.
Although it was thought to be somewhat beneath the dignity of his rank to do so, Huetzin generally led one of these scouting parties in person, so anxious was he to prove his vigilance. At length he was rewarded by the capture of a courier, who was attempting to avoid the army by taking a wide circuit around it. From this prisoner he gained the information, that of the two roads crossing the mountains before them, one had been rendered impassable by orders from Montezuma. On the other, which was so rugged as to present almost insurmountable difficulties, an Aztec army was stationed in ambuscade for the destruction of the invaders.
Hastening to convey this important item of news to Cortes, Huetzin found the army halted at a place where two roads forked. One of them, as he had already learned, was filled, farther than the eye could reach, with great bowlders and the trunks of trees. The other was open, and at the outset looked to be much the easier and better of the two. At the moment of the young Toltec's arrival, the Aztec ambassadors who still remained with Cortes, had nearly persuaded him to take the open road. They assured him that the other would be found impassable for his cavalry and artillery, even if it were cleared of its obstructions.
The Aztec nobles were greatly confused when they heard Huetzin's report to the commander. They attempted a blunt contradiction of his statements; but Cortes, paying no further attention to them, warmly thanked his young ally for his timely service, and ordered that the obstructed road be cleared. To this task Huetzin set a thousand of his hardy mountaineers. These worked with such willing industry that, within two hours their task was accomplished, and the highway was open to the passage of the army. Thus the ambushed Aztecs were allowed to wait indefinitely for the coming of their expected victims, who, in the mean time, were proceeding cheerfully on their unmolested way.
The invaders now left the pleasant plateau on which they had lingered so long, and began the ascent of the bold mountain ranges separating it from the valley of Mexico. On their left towered the grand peak of Popocatepetl, clouded with smoke and fire, and lifting his majestic head nearly eighteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, or more than two thousand feet higher than Mont Blanc. On their right rose the vast proportions of snow-robed Iztaccihuatl, the "white woman." Between the two extended a steep barrier of bare, wind-swept rock, up which the rough road zigzagged its tedious way. From the snow-peaks came icy winds, chilling man and beast to the bone, while they were continually buffeted by fierce snow-squalls or tempests of cutting sleet. Dark gorges yawned on either side, and from their profound depths came dismal moanings, as though the storm demons were already lamenting the anticipated fall of the Aztec gods. Amid these surroundings the little army toiled painfully on, until darkness shrouded the dreary landscape, when, utterly exhausted, they clamored for a halt, declaring that human endurance could hold out no longer.
Again Huetzin came to the rescue with a knowledge of the road gained from his recent bitter experience as a hunted fugitive, in those same mountains. He assured them that a cluster of commodious post-houses, erected for the shelter of Montezuma's own troops and couriers, stood but a short distance ahead. Thus cheered, the Spaniards struggled on to the welcome haven so unwittingly provided by their enemy, where, by the aid of rousing fires, the fuel for which they found already cut and stored, they passed a night of comparative comfort.
Early on the succeeding day they passed the crest of the divide, and, feeling that the worst of their trials were now left behind, they advanced with buoyant steps down the western slope of the sierra. Suddenly a glad shout from the front woke the mountain echoes, and startled those who came behind. The leaders had turned an angle, and, as though by magic, the promised land was outspread before them. The superb valley of Mexico, unrivalled in the world for the exquisite beauty of its scenery, lay smiling in unclouded sunshine at their feet.
In an emerald setting of verdant fields, orchards, groves, and stately forests, blended with areas of yellow maize and blooming gardens, five lakes of heavenly blue shone like brilliant jewels. Clustered thickly about them, and even resting on their dimpled bosoms, were scores of white-walled cities, towns, and hamlets, all distinctly visible through the rarefied atmosphere. Most conspicuous of all, fairest and most stately of all, sat the Queen City of the New World. Tenochtitlan, the royal city of their hopes and dreams, was no longer an elusive mystery, but a visible reality. Near it rose the dark mass of Chapultepec, home of Aztec kings, crowned with the same majestic cypresses that shadow it to this day. It was a sight to repay years of suffering toil, and it is no wonder that these first white men gazed on it in spellbound silence.
