"No!" exclaimed Alvarado. "By St. Jago and our good swords, no!"
"No!" echoed the whole band, as though with one voice.
"No!" cried Cabrera, impetuously. "Not if we have to put every man in Cempoalla to the sword to deliver them."
And with these exclamations it seemed, for one moment, as though the Spaniards were going to rush forward pell-mell, and effect a rescue. But Cortes raised his hand and checked them. There was time yet to proceed more peaceably. He turned back to the Cacique.
"You see," he began.
"I see there is another of those red-cloaked demons yonder," muttered Cabrera in a tone of bitter loathing to Montoro.
But the low aside formed no interruption to the General, who continued, with determination—
"You see, my followers and I have one heart in this matter. And I, for my part, am resolved that within this hour the idol gods shall be destroyed. Use your authority to stay yonder procession on its further course to sin, and thus hinder bloodshed."
But even before his words were ended it became evident that force must effect, if possible, what persuasion could not do. The Cacique's reply to the imperative demand was a swift signal to his army. It was obeyed as swiftly.
The Indian warriors gathered up from all sides, with shrill cries and clashing of weapons. The priests began to rush on with the litters and their wailing occupants, towards the temple, for the consummation of the sacrifice. The Spaniards, with Montoro de Diego at their head, flew forward, moved to too heart-sickened a pity to wait any longer upon the rule of orders. And soon the whole square and the entire route to the temple was one scene of wild uproar. The priests, in their sombre cotton robes, and dishevelled tresses matted with blood flowing over their shoulders, rushing frantically amongst their warrior brethren, urging them on to the fray, and calling upon them to protect their gods from violation.