CHAPTER XXVIII.
A BATTLE IN MID-AIR
So fierce was the Aztec temper, that, with earliest dawn of the thirdday of fighting, they were swarming at the walls. So determined wastheir assault, that, ere they could be driven back, nearly a thousandof them had leaped inside, and gained the courtyard. Although thesefought with a desperation that resulted in serious injury to thegarrison, most of them were quickly despatched by the Tlascalans, amongwhom they had appeared. A number, however, escaped, and darted intothe numerous buildings of the old palace. Here, though the Tlascalanspursued them like ferrets after rats, they managed to set numerousfires, kill or wound several persons, stab Cortes himself through thehand, and do an immense amount of mischief before being finally hunteddown and destroyed. A few more assaults as desperate and successful asthis 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 himto use his influence with his subjects to bring about a cessation ofhostilities. This, Montezuma at first refused to do; but, when assuredthat the invaders would willingly leave the city if a way were openedto him, he finally consented. Arrayed for the occasion in his mostkingly robes, he was escorted to the roof of the central turret of thepalace by a brilliant retinue of those Aztec nobles who still sharedhis fortunes, and a number of Spanish cavaliers.
In the streets below the battle was raging furiously; but, as hissubjects recognized their monarch, the din of clashing weapons andfierce war-cries instantly ceased. The tumult of war was succeeded by astillness as of death. Many of the Aztecs prostrated themselves to theground; others bowed their heads; but some gazed, unabashed, and evendefiantly, at the king, whose weak-minded superstition had lost him hiskingdom. More than one of these daring spirits secretly fitted an arrowto his bowstring, and nervously fingered it. In more than one breast asacrilege was meditated that, though certain to be avenged by the gods,might, after all, be for the best. But first they would hear what thisdishonored king had to say.
He was bidding them disperse, and do no further harm to his friends thewhite men, who, if allowed, would willingly return whence they came.
This would never do! The priests of the war-god were greedy for thevictims, who were on the point of surrendering themselves. Should theybe 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 theirbase allies would be an easy matter! Then would the gods rejoice!Then would their favor be restored! and again would Anahuac take herproper place as leader of the nations! Down with Montezuma! Long liveCuitlahua! To the altars with Spaniard and Tlascalan!
So whispered the busy priests, darting from one to another. The whispergrew 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, hissedthrough the air. A cloud of arrows followed it. Spanish bucklers wereinterposed too late, and, as Montezuma fell, a frenzied yell of triumpharose from the multitude.
Then a reaction set in. What would the gods do? "To the temple!" wasthe cry. "The priests must plead for us!" The priests themselvesspread this shout, exulting, as they did so, in its evidence of theirunimpaired power. So the throngs hastened away toward the temples,until, in a short time, not a person remained in the great squarefronting the Spanish quarters.
In the meantime, Montezuma, borne tenderly below, and laid on his royalbed still dressed in his robes of state, was dying. The priests of hisown race came not near him. They had no use for a dying king! Alreadywere they busy with preparations for crowning another, who would heaptheir altars with victims, and add to their power, until they shouldbecome objects of fear and worship, even as were the gods themselves.Already was Topil, the chief priest, preparing a sacrifice such ashad 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 Toltecwho had masqueraded as an Aztec priest, and had been detected in avile conspiracy against the gods. Besides, he had a few Spaniards inhis dungeons, and when had Christian blood been spilled at an Azteccoronation? Never before!
So Montezuma, the king who might have been all-powerful, died, becauseof 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 whichthe Spaniards and their allies were quartered, as to overlook it. Aquantity of stones and heavy timbers had been conveyed to its summitunder cover of darkness, and one morning the Christians were dismayedto find these thundering down on them from the lofty height. At thesame time came such flights of arrows, as denoted the presence on thisvantage ground of a large body of warriors. In connection with thisattack, came another of those furious assaults on their works, of whichthe enemy seemed never to tire. It was at once realized that if theywould escape speedy destruction, the temple must be carried, and Cortesdetailed one hundred men, under Escobar, the chamberlain, for thepurpose.
Three separate charges did this officer and his brave followersmake in their effort to capture the huge teocal; but each time theywere repulsed with serious loss. Finally, Escobar returned with buthalf his men, leaving the others where they had fallen. He, and allof the survivors, were wounded, some of them so severely that theydied soon after, and the capture of the temple was reported to be animpossibility.
Cortes declaring that nothing was impossible, that the place must becaptured, and that he would either accomplish it or die in the attempt,detailed another storming party of three hundred Spaniards, and twothousand Tlascalan warriors. These last were headed by their youngchieftain, while the whole force was led by the General in person.Fifteen minutes of furious fighting forced a passage through the throngof Aztecs occupying the temple court, and placed the assailants at thefoot of the first of the five flights of stone steps by which the topwas 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 othergallant cavaliers of the storming party, sprang up the first stairway.On each of the terraces above them stood strong bodies of the enemy todispute their passage. These showered down arrows and darts, togetherwith great stones and massive timbers. Most of the latter boundedharmlessly over the heads of the scaling party, but every now and thenone would crash into their ranks, and, sweeping some of the unfortunateSpaniards from their narrow foothold, hurl them lifeless to the bottom.In spite of the terrible odds thus presented, the dauntless conquerorsfought their way foot by foot, from terrace to terrace, and fromstairway to stairway, ever upward, until at length the lofty summit wasattained.
Here, in sight of the whole city the opposing forces closed in furiouscombat, of such a phenomenal nature, that all other hostilitieswere suspended by mutual consent, in order that this death-strugglein mid-air might be watched without interruption. The priests ofthe temple, seeming more like demons than human beings, with theirblood-clotted locks and savage aspect, fought like such. They rushedat the Spaniards with incredible fury, and, in many cases, forced themover the awful brink, willing to sacrifice their own lives in the leapto death, if they could only carry the hated Christians with them.
Once, in the midst of the fighting, Huetzin heard his own name calledin accents of despair, and saw his brother Sandoval whose sword hadsnapped 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 theyoung Toltec had hewed a way to his friend's side, and in anotherSandoval was free to snatch the sword of a dying cavalier, and plungeonce more into the thickest of the fight. For three dreadful hours didthe combat rage. At the end of that time a remnant only of the gallantband of assailants remained masters of the bloody arena. Every Aztec,priest, noble, or warrior, had either been slain, or hurled fr
om thegiddy height.
Some of the survivors entered the sanctuary where sat the frightfulimage of Huitzil, the war-god. Bound to the altar in front of it theydiscovered a man. His eyes were torn from their sockets; his limbs werebroken, and he bore other evidences of the most diabolical tortures.That he still lived, in spite of all, was attested by his feeblemoanings. For a moment the victors paused aghast at the sight. Then onefrom among them sprang forward, and knelt beside this pitiful victim ofthe most hideous religion known to the New World. He was Huetzin, andin the cruelly mutilated form before him, he still recognized Tlalcothe Toltec, the priest who, on three separate occasions, had saved himfrom a like awful fate.