Cortez was extremely angry at hearing what had taken place and, after listening to Alvarado's explanation, said:
"You have done badly. You have been false to your trust! Your conduct has been that of a madman!"
It was, however, no time for quarrels; and as it was the impolicy of the deed, rather than its treachery, that angered Cortez, he speedily forgave the offender, who was one of the most popular officers in his army.
The blow Alvarado had struck had a contrary effect to that which he had expected of it. No sooner had the news of the massacre spread through the city than the whole population rose, and at dawn next morning they attacked the palace, with desperate fury. Volumes of missiles were poured upon the defenders. The walls were assaulted, and the works set on fire, and the palace might have been taken had not Montezuma, yielding to the entreaties--and perhaps threats--of the garrison, mounted the walls, and urged the people to desist from the attack, as his own safety would be imperiled did they continue it.
They obeyed him as usual, and withdrew from the assault; but threw up works round the place, and proceeded to starve the Spaniards out. The latter had considerable stores of food, but suffered severely from thirst until they were fortunate enough to discover a spring, and were thus enabled to hold out until the arrival of Cortez.
The latter refused to comply with the request of Montezuma to see him. He had some reason to doubt the good faith of the emperor, for he had discovered that the latter had sent envoys to Narvaez; and he had, upon his arrival at Tlascala, been informed that the rising at Mexico had been, to a great extent, prepared beforehand by the orders of Montezuma; and even the assurances of the officers of the garrison, that they owed their safety to the emperor's intervention, did not pacify him.
The real reason, no doubt, of his anger was that he found he had overrated the advantages he would gain from Montezuma being in his hands; but for this he himself, and not the emperor, was to blame. At first the capture had all the success that he had expected from it. The people had obeyed their emperor as implicitly, when a captive, as when his power had been supreme. They had sent in their nobles, prisoners and bound, at his orders. They had built ships for these strangers. They had suffered them to go unmolested through the country.
But there was an end even to Aztec patience. The avarice of the white men had drained the country of its wealth. Their arrogance had humiliated their pride. Their occupation of their holiest temple and the insults to their gods had aroused them to fury; and the massacre, in cold blood, of six hundred of their nobles, while engaged in religious devotions, had been the signal for an explosion. Their emperor, formerly so venerated, they now regarded with contempt as the creature of the Spaniards; as the betrayer of his country; and the thought of his safety no longer restrained their thirst for vengeance.
Cortez, however, was in no mood to reflect.
"What have I to do with this dog of a king," he exclaimed, "who suffers us to starve before his eyes?