CHAPTER X.
THE SIGN OF THE GOD OF THE FOUR WINDS
It was in August, the height of the rainy season, that the littleSpanish army of four hundred men, only fifteen of whom were mounted,took up their line of march from Vera Cruz for the Aztec capital.They carried with them but three heavy guns and the four falconets.The remainder of the troops, one horse, and seven pieces of heavyartillery, were left for the defence of their infant city. To dragtheir guns and transport their baggage over the mountains they obtainedfrom Cempoalla the services of a thousand tamanes, or porters. An armyof thirteen hundred Totonac warriors also accompanied them.
Their first day's journey was through the perfumed forest filled withgorgeous blossoms and brightly plumaged tropic birds of the _TierraCaliente_. Then they began to ascend the eastern slope of the MexicanCordilleras, above which towers the mighty snow-robed peak of Orizaba.At the close of the second day they reached the beautifully locatedcity of Jalapa, standing midway up the long ascent. Two days later theycame to Naulinco, whose inhabitants, being allied to the Totonacs,received them in the most friendly manner. From here they passed intothe rugged defile now known as the "Bishop's Pass," where, instead ofthe tropic heats and sunshine to which they had become accustomed, theybegan to experience cold winds, with driving storms of rain, sleet, andhail, which chilled them to the marrow, and caused the death of many ofthe Indian porters. The aspect of the surrounding country was as drearyas that of its leaden skies. On all sides were granite bowlders rentinto a thousand fantastic shapes, huge masses of lava, beds of volcaniccinders and scoriæ, bearing no traces of vegetation, while, above all,towered snow-clad pinnacles and volcanic peaks. After three days ofsuffering and the most fatiguing labor amid these desolate scenes theydescended, and emerged through a second pass into a region of exceedingfertility and a genial climate. They were now on the great table-landof Puebla, and seven thousand feet above the level of the sea. Herethey rested for several days in the Aztec city of Cocotlan, thegovernor of which dared not resist them, as he had received no ordersfrom his royal master to do so.
From Cocotlan they travelled down a noble, forest-clad valley, wateredby a bold mountain-torrent, and teeming with inhabitants, who collectedin throngs to witness the passing of the mysterious strangers, but madeno offer to molest them. At the fortress of Xalacingo they came totwo roads, one leading to the sacred city of Cholula, famed for itsgreat pyramid, its temples, and its pottery, and the other leading toTlascala. By the advice of their native allies the conquerors decidedto take the latter way, and visit the sturdy little mountain republicwhich had maintained a successful warfare against the arrogant Aztecfor more than two centuries, and with which they hoped to form analliance. So an embassy of Totonac caciques, bearing an exquisiteSpanish sword as a present, was despatched to explain to the Tlascalanchiefs the peaceful intentions of the Spaniards, and ask for permissionto pass through their territory.
The Christian army waited several days in vain for the return of thesemessengers, and at length, impatient of the delay, determined to pushon at all hazards. Leaving the beautiful plain in which they hadhalted, they struck into a more rugged country, and at length pausedbefore a structure so strange that they gazed at it in wonder. It wasa battlemented stone wall nine feet high, twenty in thickness, sixmiles long, and terminating at either end in the precipitous sidesof tall mountains too steep to be scaled. Only in the centre of thiswellnigh impregnable fortress was there a narrow opening, running forforty paces between overlapping sections of the wall. This remarkablestructure stood on the boundary of Tlascalan territory and, had themountain warriors to whom it belonged chosen to defend it upon thisoccasion, the white men might have dashed themselves against it asfruitlessly as the waves of the sea against an iron-bound coast, untiltheir strength was spent, without effecting a passage to the countrybeyond.
For days the great council of Tlascala had been the scene of stormydebate as to how the strangers applying for admission to theirterritory should be received. Some of its members were for making animmediate alliance with them against the Aztecs. Others claimed thatthese unknown adventurers had not yet declared themselves as enemies ofMontezuma, nor had their vaunted powers been tested in battle againsttrue warriors. "Therefore," said these counsellors, "let us first fightthem, and if they prove able to withstand us, then will it be time toaccept their alliance." This advice finally prevailed, war was decidedupon, and a force was despatched to guard the great fortress. But itwas too late. Cortes and his little army had already passed through itsunguarded opening and gained the soil of the free republic.
After proceeding a few miles the leader, riding at the head of hishorsemen perceived a small body of warriors armed with maquahuitlsand shields, and clad in armor of quilted cotton, advancing rapidly.These formed the van of those who should have guarded the fortress.On seeing that the Spaniards had already passed it, they halted; and,as the latter continued to approach, they turned and fled. Cortescalled upon them to halt, but as they only fled the faster he and hiscompanions clapped spurs to their steeds and speedily overtook them.Finding escape impossible the Tlascalans faced about, but instead ofsurrendering or showing themselves terror-stricken at the appearanceof their pursuers, they began a furious attack upon them. Handful asthey were, they fought so bravely that they held their ground untilthe appearance, a few minutes later, of the main body to which theybelonged. These numbering several thousand, and advancing on the run,at once gave battle to the little body of Spanish cavaliers. Firstdischarging a blinding flight of arrows, they rushed, with wild cries,upon the horsemen, striving to tear their lances from their graspand to drag the riders from their saddles. They seemed fully awarethat rider and horse were distinct individuals, in which respect theydiffered from any of the natives yet encountered. Fortunately for thecavaliers the press about them was so great that their assailants foundit almost impossible to wield their weapons, while from their superiorelevation they were enabled to use their swords with telling effect.Still the Tlascalans succeeded in dragging one rider to the ground andin wounding him so severely that he soon afterward died. Two horseswere also killed, and this formed by far the most serious loss yetsustained by the Spaniards.
Scores of the Tlascalans received mortal wounds, but the sight oftheir stricken comrades only served to animate the survivors with freshcourage and an increased fury. From their childhood the Tlascalans weretaught that there was no glory so great as that to be gained by deathon the field of battle, and that the warrior thus dying was at oncetransported to the blissful mansions of the sun. Nowhere in the NewWorld had the Spaniards encountered such warriors as these, and it waswith inexpressible thankfulness that the hard-pressed cavaliers beheldthe rapid advance of their own infantry, and were able to retreat for abreathing spell behind their sheltering lines. A simultaneous fire ofartillery, muskets, and crossbows so bewildered the Tlascalans, who nowfor the first time heard the terrifying sound, and witnessed the deadlyeffect, of fire-arms, that they made no further attempt to continue thebattle. They did not fly but withdrew in good order, carrying theirdead with them.
The Spaniards were too exhausted to follow up their victory, and wereanxious only to find a safe camping-place for the night. During thehours of darkness they carefully buried the two horses killed in thatday's fight, hoping that when the Tlascalans found no trace of themthey might still believe them to be supernatural beings. A strong guardwas maintained all night, and those who slept did so in their armorwith their weapons in their hands.
On the following day the Spaniards resumed their march, presenting,with their Indian allies, quite an imposing array. As on the previousday the pursuit of a small body of the enemy, who fell back as theyadvanced, led them into the presence of another Tlascalan army, headedby Tlahuicol's nephew and successor, a fiery young warrior namedXicoten. This army met them in a narrow valley of such broken groundthat the artillery could not be operated within its limits. Here thirtythousand warriors not only filled the valley with their numbers, b
utspread out on the plain beyond, presenting a confused assemblage ofgay banners, glittering weapons, and many-colored plumes tossing abovethe white of cotton-quilted armor. Over all floated proudly the herondevice of the great house of Titcala, to which Xicoten, the general,belonged.
The battle now fought was more stubborn and prolonged than that ofthe day before. Another horse was killed, and his mangled remainswere borne off in triumph to be distributed as trophies through everyTlascalan village. A terrible hand-to-hand struggle took place overthe prostrate form of his rider, who was finally recovered by theSpaniards, only to die shortly after of his wounds.
While the Christians, protected by their armor, received the showers ofTlascalan arrows and darts with impunity, their Totonac allies sufferedheavily. All were nearly exhausted before the artillery was draggedclear of the broken ground and brought into play. Then, as on theprevious day, the Tlascalans sullenly retreated before a deadly firewhich they had no means of returning.
Again the Spaniards, weary with a day of fighting, sought only asafe place of encampment. This they found on the hill of Zompach, arocky eminence crowned by a small temple, which they converted intoa fortress. Here they rested and cared for their wounded during thesucceeding day; but on the next, as provisions were running low,Cortes, taking with him only his cavalry, made a foray through thesurrounding villages and farms. During this wild ride Sandoval, withthe recklessness of youth, trusting to his good sword and the fleetMotilla for safety, allowed himself to become separated from the rest.
He was at some distance behind, and galloping furiously through anarrow street of a deserted village, when Motilla swerved so suddenlyto one side as to almost unseat her rider, and then stood snortingand quivering with excitement. The object of her terror was the bodyof a young man who lay prone on the ground, bleeding profusely from asword-cut on the head, evidently just given him by one of those who hadpassed on before. As Sandoval gazed at him with an expression of pity,for the youth was well favored and of about his own age, the latterlifted his right hand and made a few motions that, feeble as they were,almost caused the young Spaniard to fall off his horse with amazement.
He gazed for a moment longer, and then, moved by a sudden impulse, hesprang from Motilla's back, lifted the limp and unconscious form of thewounded youth to the saddle, remounted behind him, and, with only thisstrange prize to show as his share of booty, galloped back to camp.When the Spanish commander laughingly asked him what he was going to dowith his captive, Sandoval answered:
"I am going to care for him until he recovers sufficiently to tell mehow it came about that, when he thought himself dying, he made the signof the cross."