Munroe Kirk
The White Conquerors: A Tale of Toltec and Aztec

CHAPTER XXV.
CORTES CAPTURES AND ENLISTS THE ARMY OF HIS RIVAL

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."

CHAPTER XXVI.
TIATA'S BRAVE DEATH AND SANDOVAL'S GRIEF

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.