The White Conquerors: A Tale of Toltec and Aztec

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE GLORIOUS TRIUMPH OF TLALCO

Tlalco the Toltec, one of the few survivors in Mexico of that mysterious race to which Huetzin traced his own ancestry, had, like Tlahuicol, been born in the land of the Mayans. Here he was educated as a priest of that gentle religion of love and peace, whose gods were the Four Winds, and other forces of nature, and the symbol of which was a cross. It had at one time been the faith of all Anahuac; but, with the coming of the conquering Aztecs, it was supplanted by the cruel worship of Huitzil, the war-god, whose blood-stained priests demanded the sacrifice of thousands of human victims every year.

The young Toltec first heard of these abominations with horror, but not until his only brother, to whom he was passionately attached, was captured by an Aztec war party and doomed to sacrifice in Tenochtitlan, did he conceive the idea of devoting his life to conflict with the gods who exacted them. His first act was to secretly enlist a number of young men whose enthusiasm in the sacred cause was equal to his own. Then, like a crusader of the old world, he entered Anahuac at the head of his little band. Its members were distributed by twos, in various places, from which they were to maintain a regular correspondence with him. By this means he gained early information of all important occurrences throughout the kingdom, and was able to lay his plans accordingly. He established himself in Tenochtitlan. Here he bearded the lion in its den, by entering the service of the temple, and becoming a candidate for the priesthood of Huitzil. While thus engaged he first heard of Tlahuicol.

Tlalco's nature was to plot and work by hidden means; but he could rejoice in the downright blows of the warrior, who fought openly against those of whom he was the secret enemy. Though he did not meet Tlahuicol, nor even learn that he, too, was a Toltec, until the very hour of the latter's death, he made himself familiar with every event of the great warrior's career. He augmented the prestige of the Tlascalan war-chief by originating, and spreading, the prophecy that through Tlahuicol should Huitzil fall. It was this prophecy, a knowledge of which had become general at the time the Tlascalan was captured by his enemies, that caused Topil, the chief priest, to regard him with such a bitter hatred, and demand his life of Montezuma.

After the death of Tlahuicol, and the startling discovery that he, too, was a Toltec, Tlalco determined to protect the children of the hero so far as lay in his power, and at the same time to use them in furthering his own life-work. All his hopes of ultimate success now centred in the mysterious white conquerors, who, bearing a cross as their symbol of faith, had recently arrived on the coast. Therefore, after rescuing Huetzin from the knife of sacrifice, he bade him seek and join himself to them, thus, unwittingly, reiterating the last instructions of Tlahuicol.

Tiata, he saved from Topil's vengeance, by causing the praises of her beauty to be so artfully sounded within hearing of Cacama, Prince of Tezcuco, that the latter demanded her in marriage of Montezuma. By Tlalco's instructions the girl claimed the privilege of a year's mourning for her parents, before becoming a bride. This was granted; but in accordance with established custom, she was compelled to reside at the Court of Tezcuco, in charge of a noble lady of the prince's household. From here Tiata, who was now enlisted heart and soul in the cause of the Toltec, for the overthrow of the hated religion to which her parents had been sacrificed, constantly furnished Tlalco with important information. Under the strict watch of her duenna, she was permitted to visit Tenochtitlan, to witness the first entry of the white conquerors, and her heart swelled with pride at the sight of her brother leading his army of Tlascalans. No opportunity was allowed her for communicating with him, ere he was spirited away through the efforts of the chief priest.

When Tlalco learned that Huetzin was, for the second time, about to be led to the altar of sacrifice, he was for a moment at a loss how to act. Had the message sent to Sandoval been traced to him, his influence with Montezuma, as an Aztec priest, would have been destroyed. Then he remembered Tiata's presence in the palace, and sent the message through her. That very evening, after her strange interview with Sandoval, the Toltec maiden was compelled to return to Tezcuco, where, for many weeks, she was so closely watched, that she could gain no intelligence of her brother's fate.

At length, wearying of Cacama's unwelcome attentions, Tiata found means of sending an appeal to Tlalco for aid in escaping them. At the same time she informed him that the Tezcucan prince was secretly raising an army with which he proposed to destroy the Spaniards, and usurp the Aztec throne. Tlalco immediately caused this information to be conveyed to Cortes, who as promptly effected the arrest of Cacama, whom he afterward held as a captive in the Spanish quarters.

After the departure of Cortes to meet Narvaez, Tlalco found that, by his constant intercourse with the king, upon whose superstitious nature he had been able to exert a powerful influence, he was exciting the jealousy and suspicions of Topil. Therefore, as a measure of precaution, he suddenly ceased his visits to the captive monarch. At the same time, in order that he might still be kept informed of all that was taking place in the palace, he conceived and carried out the plan of having Tiata, disguised as a youth, installed as a king's page. Before she found an opportunity of communicating with her brother, she heard that he was to take the dangerous task of conveying the news of Alvarado's desperate situation to Cortes, and this was the first bit of information that she sent to Tlalco. He, knowing only too well what precautions were taken to prevent the escape of any such messenger, and the terrible fate already suffered by those previously sent out, for a moment believed the son of Tlahuicol to be lost. Then a high resolve filled his breast.

Although not a warrior, he determined on a course of action from which many a one entitled to the name might well have shrunk. He knew himself to be an object of such suspicion to Topil, that the spies of the chief priest were ever on his track, and that his every movement was instantly reported to his arch enemy. He knew, too, that Topil, having become superstitious through the prophecy concerning Tlahuicol, and the two miraculous escapes of Tlahuicol's son from his clutches, thirsted for the blood of the young Toltec, with an eagerness that would have given anything short of life itself for his capture. Knowing all this, Tlalco still watched for Huetzin's departure from the palace, followed him to the place of his capture, allowed the guards to lead him for some distance, thus withdrawing themselves from the causeway, and then effected the prisoner's release by stepping forward, and, in his capacity of priest, boldly denouncing their stupidity, and holding their attention by his words, until Huetzin had slipped away and disappeared.

Five minutes later, Tlalco was seized and dragged before Topil. "Ha, false priest! Have I discovered thee at last?" cried the latter in a voice well nigh choked with fury. "Long hast thou deceived me, but mine eyes are at length opened, and now shalt thou experience the wrath of the outraged gods, in a manner that will teach thee its possibilities as thou hast not dreamed of them."

From that moment the body of Tlalco was racked by a system of the most exquisite tortures that even the practiced ingenuity of Aztec priests could invent. For two weeks these had been prolonged, until, at the end of that time, the poor, agonized wreck of humanity lay where Huetzin discovered it, still conscious, but with the brave spirit just lingering on the threshold of its mortal home, before departing to the realms of immortality.

Heart-sick and filled with horror, at thus finding his friend and thrice preserver, the young Toltec knelt beside the hideous altar, and said: "Tlalco, my father, dost thou know me?"

The face of the dying man was lit with a glow of recognition, and in a whisper so feeble as to be barely heard, he answered:

"It is the son of Tlahuicol."

Then they severed the cruel bonds and lifted him tenderly into the open air, where the sightless face instinctively turned toward the glowing noonday sun. Here Huetzin moistened his blackened lips and bathed his face with water that was at the same time mingled with his own scalding tears of fierce indignation, love, and pity. While he was thus engaged, his white comrades, filled with a furious rage, tore the grinning war-god from his blood-soaked throne and rolled the senseless image out on the broad arena which had but just been the scene of so terrible a battle.

"The hour of the false God has come!" cried Huetzin in the Toltec tongue: "The white conquerors are about to hurl him from his loftiest temple! Now is thy victory gained, O Tlalco! for the power of Aztec priesthood is broken forever! Oh, that my father could have lived to see this day! Oh, that Tiata might have seen it! The gods of the Toltecs, thy gods and my gods, O Tlalco, be praised that thou and I are permitted to share in this their glorious triumph!"

As he uttered these words in a tongue understood only by the dying man, the face of the youth was transfigured, the wrath of battle passed from it and it shone with the light of an all-absorbing enthusiasm.

"Lift me in thy strong arms," whispered Tlalco, "and make for me the holy sign."

As Huetzin lifted him and gently touched him on forehead, breast, and each shoulder, there came an exultant shout from the soldiers, a sound of crashing, splintering, and rending, as the ponderous image of the god thundered down to the bottom of the vast pyramid and a great cry of terror and consternation rose from the multitudes below. At the same moment the tortured features of him whom Huetzin supported, became radiant with the glory of the immortal gods, to whom his glad spirit was already winging its triumphant flight.

CHAPTER XXX.

MONTEZUMA'S SUCCESSOR DEFIES THE CONQUERORS

As Huetzin rose to his feet, after laying gently down the lifeless body of the Toltec martyr, he beheld Sandoval patiently waiting to attract his attention. The young Spaniard stood with one mail-shod foot resting on the neck of a writhing Aztec priest, who strove in vain to free himself from its weight.

"Here is a vermin," spoke Sandoval, "who bears a certain look of familiarity and who, I imagine, must be accounted of some consequence among his own diabolical crew. Yet I cannot place him and have persuaded him to come to thee for recognition. I found him, squatted like a toad in a hole, after yon image was dragged from its pedestal. He seems not to be wounded, nor do I believe he appeared in the fight at all. Now, lift thy head, vermin, that a man may gaze on thy devil's face!"

Thus exclaiming, Sandoval caught at the matted hair of the priest and pulled up his head so that Huetzin had a fair view of the fear-distorted features. As he glanced at them the young Toltec uttered a great cry and sprang forward.

"Aye, well do I know him!" he exclaimed. "He is the murderer of thousands, and thrice have I been in his clutches. From me has he taken father, mother, and sister! There (pointing to the mutilated body of Tlalco) is a specimen of his work. With his own hand did he slay Tlahuicol and Tiata! He is Topil, the chief-priest, the chief curse of Anahuac. Let me at him, that I may hurl him to everlasting damnation! Let me at him, I say! He is mine!"

"Gently, lad, gently!" interposed Sandoval, in a tone whose very softness intimated his rage. "To hurl him over the brink would be a kindness. 'Twould be too sweet a death for him. I have a better plan. Leave him to me, and I promise you thou shalt be satisfied."

With this he again grasped the long hair of Topil's head, and dragged the screaming wretch back into the shrine from which he had brought him. There, lifting him with a quick jerk to his feet, he drove him up the stairway to its top, hastening his movements with many a sword-prick in his bare legs. When Topil emerged on the roof, he was sixty feet above the platform where the combat had raged, and standing on the summit of a wooden tower. Sandoval bound his prisoner's wrists firmly together, behind him, and then fastened one of his ankles, by a copper censer chain that he had found in the temple, to a projecting timber, so that the priest, while allowed a certain freedom of motion, could by no possibility escape. There Sandoval left him, and, descending, closed the only avenue of escape behind him. Seizing a burning brand from an altar, he set fire to the woodwork of the temple in a dozen places. It was like tinder, and in a minute the red flames were greedily licking the slender tower on all sides. The screams of the miscreant, dancing in torment on its summit, attracted the attention of the multitudes below, and they, still trembling from the destruction of their god, were compelled to gaze helplessly upon the awful but well-merited fate of their chief-priest. Even after he was hidden from sight by a towering screen of flame and smoke, his voice could be heard in frantic appeals to the impotent gods.

When Cortes and the slender remnant of his victorious band descended from this memorable battle-field, the Aztec throngs shrunk from them as though they were plague-stricken, and they passed unmolested to their own quarters. That night the Spaniards again sallied forth, and, carrying blazing brands in every direction through the sleeping city, destroyed over three hundred houses.

On the following day, Cortes, thinking that by these reverses and by the overthrow of their principal god, the Aztecs must be sufficiently humbled to submit, called a parley. As the principal nobles and their followers assembled in the great square, he addressed them, through the voice of Marina, from the same turret on which Montezuma had received his death-wound.

"Men of Tenochtitlan," he said, "you have seen your gods trampled in the dust, their priests destroyed, your warriors slain by thousands, and your dwellings burned. All this you have brought upon yourselves. Yet, for the affection I bore the king whom you murdered, I am willing to forgive you, if you lay down your arms, renounce the hideous religion that offers no hope for your salvation, and resume the allegiance to his most Catholic majesty of Spain sworn by your king. If you refuse these things, then will I make your beautiful city a heap of smouldering ruins, as barren of human life as the fire-crowned summit of yon sky-piercing mountain. What say you? Shall it be peace with immunity from further suffering, or shall it be war to the death, and utter ruin?"

Then answered Cuitlahua, the newly crowned king: "It is true, O Malinche, that thou hast destroyed one of our temples, broken the image of a god, and slain many of my people. Many more will doubtless fall beneath thy terrible sword. But we are satisfied so long as for the blood of every hundred, we can shed that of one white man. Look on our roofs and terraces, our streets and squares. They are thronged with Aztec warriors, as far as thine eye can reach. Our numbers are scarcely diminished. Yours are lessening every hour! You are perishing with hunger, and thirst, and sickness! Your provisions are failing! We will see to it that you get no more. You have but little water! You must soon fall into our hands.

The bridges are removed

, and you cannot escape! Truly, O Malinche, is the vengeance of the outraged gods about to descend on thee."

At the conclusion of this bold speech, which well showed the temper of the newly made king, a flight of arrows compelled the Spaniards hastily to descend from the turret and seek the shelter of their defences.

Cuitlahua's defiance filled the besieged with dismay. Of what use were all their fightings, their sufferings, and their brilliant victories? The enemy was more determined than ever, and a hundred fresh warriors stood ready to take the place of each one who was killed. A contest against such overwhelming odds was hopeless, and the sooner it was abandoned the better. Thus argued the Spanish soldiers, especially the recruits who had come with Narvaez. These, to a man, declared they would fight no longer, unless to preserve themselves in a retreat from the fatal city.

Against such a feeling among his followers, even the bold spirit of the commander was forced to yield. So, after a consultation with his officers, including the young chief of Tlascalans, he announced that preparations would at once be made for leaving Tenochtitlan. It was decided that the retreat should be by the causeway of Tlacopan, which, being but two miles in length, and thus much shorter than the one by which they had entered the city, would soonest lead them to the mainland, where they could fight to advantage.

In the meantime, as in their frequent sorties, the Spaniards had suffered their greatest annoyance through missiles showered down from the housetops, Cortes had designed and caused to be built three wooden towers that he termed

mantas

. These were of two stories, and were mounted on rude wheels by means of which it was proposed to roll them through the streets, with musketeers stationed in the upper stories, who should sweep the housetops of all enemies as they advanced. In each lower story, which was open to the ground, a force of brawny Tlascalans was to push and pull the movable fortress without being exposed to attack. It was now determined to test the efficacy of these rude machines in the sortie about to be made, to discover whether or not the avenue of Tlacopan was open and free from obstructions.

When all was in readiness the great gate of the fortress was thrown open, and, with much creaking, groaning, and rocking the manta issued forth. The Aztecs beheld its stately advance with bewildered astonishment. They could not conceive its purpose, nor understand by what power it was propelled. There was no sign of human agency and its progress filled them with awe. As they gazed in gaping wonder, it slowly crossed the square and entered the avenue of Tlacopan. Suddenly, as it halted before a building, the roof of which was thronged with armed men, a side of the upper story fell outward, and a volley of musketry was delivered with startling effect. A light, but strong, bridge was thrown to the housetop, and the Spaniards, crossing on it, quickly put its remaining occupants to flight with their swords. Then they retreated to their wooden fortress, pulled in the bridge, drew up their protecting shield and the engine of destruction proceeded on its ponderous way. But its purpose was no longer a mystery. The swarming occupants of the housetops withdrew to places of safety on its approach, or hurled down fire brands and coping-stones from such elevations as commanded it. Its utility had begun to appear doubtful when it came to a halt at the first canal. Here the bridge had been destroyed, and it could proceed no farther.

A tall building stood at this point, and from its roof an avalanche of heavy timbers and great stones was poured on the devoted manta, ere its progress could be reversed. One of these formidable missiles crushed in a side of the structure, causing it to sway alarmingly. Several others struck it together, a moment later, and, with a melancholy crash, it toppled to the ground burying its unfortunate defenders in the wreck, killing several o