The golden glitterance and the feather-mail
More gay than glittering gold; and round the helm
A coronal of high upstanding plumes....
... With war-songs and wild music they came on.[21]
The Tlascalan warriors had attained wonderful skill in throwing the javelin. "One species, with a thong attached to it, which remained in the slinger's hand, that he might recall the weapon, was especially dreaded by the Spaniards." Their various weapons were pointed with bone or obsidian, and sometimes headed with copper.
The yell or scream of defiance raised by these Indians almost drowned the volume of sound from "the wild barbaric minstrelsy of shell, atabal, and trumpet with which they proclaimed their triumphant anticipations of victory over the paltry forces of the invaders."
Advancing under a thick shower of arrows and other missiles, the Spanish soldiers at a certain distance quickly halted and drew up in order, before delivering a general fire along the whole line. The front ranks of their wild opponents were mowed down and those behind were "petrified with dismay."
But for the accident of dissension having arisen between the chiefs of the Tlascalans, it almost seemed as if nothing could have saved Cortés and his Spanish army. Before the battle, the haughty treatment of one of those chiefs by Xicotencatl, the cazique, provoked the injured man to draw off all his contingent during the battle, and persuade another chief to do the same. With his forces so weakened, the cazique was compelled to resign the field to the Spaniards.
Xicotencatl, in his eagerness for revenge, consulted some of the Aztec priests, who recommended a night attack upon Cortés's camp in order to take his army by surprise. The Tlascalan, therefore, with 10,000 warriors, marched secretly toward the Spanish camp, but owing to the bright moonlight they were not unseen by the vedettes. Besides that, Cortés had accustomed his army to sleep with their arms by their side and the horses ready saddled. In an instant, as it were, the whole camp were on the alert and under arms. The Indians, meanwhile, were stealthily advancing to the silent camp, and, "no sooner had they reached the slope of the rising ground than they were astounded by the deep battle-cry of the Spaniards, followed by the instantaneous appearance of the whole army. Scarcely awaiting the shock of their enemy, the panic-struck barbarians fled rapidly and tumultuously across the plain. The horse easily overtook the fugitives, riding them down, and cutting them to pieces without mercy." Next day Cortés sent new ambassadors to the Tlascalan capital, accompanied by his faithful slave interpreter, Marina. They found the cazique's council sad and dejected, every gleam of hope being now extinguished.
The message of Cortés still promised friendship and pardon, if only they agreed to act as allies. If the present offer were rejected, "he would visit their capital as a conqueror, raze every house to the ground, and put every inhabitant to the sword." On hearing this ultimatum, the council chose four leading chiefs to be entrusted with a mission to Cortés, "assuring him of a free passage through the country, and a friendly reception in the capital." The ambassadors, on their way back to Cortés, called at the camp of Xicotencatl, and were there detained by him. He was still planning against the terrible invaders.
Cortés, in the meantime, had another opportunity of showing his resource and presence of mind. Some of his soldiers had shown a grumbling discontent: "The idea of conquering Mexico was madness; if they had encountered such opposition from the petty republic, what might they not expect from the great Mexican Empire? There was now a temporary suspension of hostilities; should they not avail themselves of it to retrace their steps to Vera Cruz?" To this Cortés listened calmly and politely, replying that "he had told them at the outset that glory was to be won only by toil and danger; he had never shrunk from his share of both. To go back now was impossible. What would the Tlascalans say? How would the Mexicans exult at such a miserable issue! Instead of turning your eyes toward Cuba, fix them on Mexico, the great object of our enterprise." Many other soldiers having gathered round, the mutinous party took courage to say that "another such victory as the last would be their ruin; they were going to Mexico only to be slaughtered." With some impatience Cortés gaily quoted a soldiers' song:
Better die with honor
Than live in long disgrace!
—a sentiment which the majority of the audience naturally cheered to the echo, while the malcontents slunk away to their quarters.