When Cortés heard of the affair he came over to administer a reprimand, but on learning the particulars he could not withhold his admiration for the valiant deeds performed, and merely exhorted his lieutenant to be more cautious.[1159] Great was the exultation of the Mexicans over their success, and tauntingly they hovered round the camp, imitating the cries of the entrapped soldiers. So encouraged did they feel as to make several determined night attacks on the different camps or their advance posts. Alvarado’s being nearest and most exposed had to sustain quite a severe fight, losing several men.[1160]
Although Alvarado had made little advance into the city, the planting of his camp so near it saved much fighting and enabled him to direct daily operations almost at once against the main points. In this he possessed an advantage over Cortés, who was compelled daily to recapture a number of positions already gained. He himself remarks on this loss of time and work. “Your Majesty may blame me for retreating instead of holding what is gained,” he writes, but guards at the bridges, which must be large, would be so harassed as to unfit them for the next day’s work, while to take up a position within the city would draw the whole of the large population upon them, and might lead to the cutting off of communication and supplies, and probably to a repetition of the great disaster of the previous year. Such a position would besides render it possible for the Mexicans to obtain supplies from the mainland, for the Spanish allies could not be relied on to watch them. Cortés’ own officers, however, could not fail to observe that Alvarado’s course might have been followed with some advantage. They began to tire of the slow progress, attended as it was with so much fighting for so little gain; so much exposure to alternate rain and heat; so much discomfort in rude camps with poor diet and want of proper care for wounded or sick men. This was represented to Cortés, with the request that a general storming be attempted with a view to abbreviate the siege. He represented the danger of advancing over so many channels, along streets lined with houses, against hosts of determined warriors, with the prospect of being caught in the rear. Still he was as eager as any one to end the siege, and would call a council to deliberate on the matter. The result was a decided majority for the proposition to attempt the capture of Tlatelulco market and there establish a permanent camp.[1161]
Since Sandoval will not be able to render efficient service on his route for an attack on Tlatelulco, he is ordered to join Alvarado with the weightiest part of his forces, and to take advantage of the movement to entrap the Mexicans. He will pretend to make a general evacuation of his camp, and thus allure the foe to an attack on the baggage-train, during which the ambuscaded cavalry can inflict a lesson which shall also serve to secure the camp against later attack. Sandoval sends another portion of his forces to Cortés, who has more points to cover, and receives instructions to attend in particular to the capture of the channels and their filling, and otherwise to secure the safety of the more impetuous Alvarado.
On the day appointed, the brigantines with their flotillas are sent early to aid in clearing the causeways and approaches. The troops find little trouble in reaching the Tlacopan avenue, from which three long roads give access to the market. It is advantageous to push the advance on each of these, and three divisions are accordingly formed, one to follow the main street under command of the comptroller and treasurer, Julian de Alderete, who has been among the foremost to urge the assault; another under Andrés de Tápia and Jorge de Alvarado, brother of the Tlacopan leader, both dashing and able men; the third and somewhat larger body, swelled particularly by auxiliaries, Cortés himself directs along the most dangerous approach, a sort of causeway, lined with houses but bordered with water.[1162] Two cannon are placed on the Tlacopan road, guarded by eight horsemen, and Cortés leaves his horse at the entrance of the road taken by him, and gives strict orders to all captains for filling every channel behind them.
Cortés at first leads his men on foot, and with the aid of a field-piece readily gains the first bridge and barricade, carrying all before him, while the auxiliaries swarm into the houses and drive slingers and archers from the roofs. The determination of the assaulting party seems to have disheartened the Mexicans, for the advance is quite rapid, so much so that the captain who has taken Cortés’ place at the head of his division soon reports that he is approaching the market and can hear the operations of Alvarado and Sandoval. May he advance? This message reaches Cortés on a section of his causeway to the rear, where he has remained to gain a contested point, and to oppose assaults from the cross-streets. He replies that the captain must first secure his rear and flanks, and look particularly to the channels, of which there are three in that causeway. “They are filled,” was the answer, made without a thought as to its accuracy, for flushed with the success of the advance, soldiers and cavaliers alike cast prudence to the winds, and disregarding common ditches bend their eyes alone upon the goal. Immediately after comes the doleful sound of the teponastli, and a shrill trumpet blast, the alarm signal of Paynalton, the mythic page of the war-god. Struck on the summit of Tlatelulco temple, the sounds float over the contestants, sending a chill into the heart of the Spaniards and allies as they rush onward filled with visions of success. To the Mexicans, on the other hand, it comes as a magic appeal from Huitzilopochtli, stirring their spirit with fresh energy: a resistless appeal to make a supreme effort for imperilled home, and faith, and liberty.[1163]
Cortés also hears the warning, only too deeply impressed since that Sorrowful Night, and with anxious heart he hastens forward to see how matters stand. His anxiety is increased as the jubilant cries of his own men appear to change, while high above them rise the unmistakably triumphant shouts of the Aztecs. Just then he comes to one of the crossings formed by his party at a channel ten to twelve paces wide, and over ten feet deep. It seems insecure, and on looking he finds it constructed of some loosely thrown pieces of wood and reed, covered with a little earth. He at once orders the auxiliaries in his following to rebuild the structure. Scarcely is the order uttered before he sees his forces coming down the causeway in disorderly flight, led by the allies. Cortés makes frantic efforts to stay the current. None heed him. Fears lend wings and drown all appeal. On come the pressing throng, on to the frail bridge, which sinks with its living freight into the deep water. Still onward rush the mass behind, impelled by their mad momentum, tumbling on the heads of these, scrambling and wading, adding their cries for help to the shrieks of despair beneath, while from the rear roll the terrifying shouts of hot pursuers. Already the house-tops teem with slingers and archers; the lanes pour forth their warriors with swords and long pikes to pierce the flanks, and the canals are alive with canoes whose crews secure the struggling fugitives for sacrifice, or deal the more grateful coup de grace. The Spanish soldiers are among the last to come up, and a terrible gauntlet they have had to run. Regardless of the showering missiles or the pressing foe, Cortés stands on the brink to strike back the hungry crew and lend a helping hand to his floundering men. “I was determined to remain there and die fighting,” he writes. But so many are beyond his reach, and there he must stand helpless to watch the struggle; to behold now this soldier felled, now the other carried off; and more, to see the banner torn from the hands of his alférez. Tlapanecatl is the name given by the records to the doughty captor of so esteemed a prize.
Standing there conspicuously on the brink, Cortés becomes the target for hundreds of missiles, though protected by his mail; but soon the foe begin to press round him, and even in his rear, separating him from the men.[1164] The next moment more than one pair of arms had coiled round his body, and, with triumphant shouts of “Malinche! Malinche!” they seek to drag him into the water to the canoes. Alarmed by the outcry, his body-soldier, Cristóbal de Olea, hastens to his side, and with a sabre-blow severs the arm which was well nigh pulling over the bent form of his master. The next instant he himself falls beneath the furious onslaught roused by the magnitude of the prize, “a glorious death in so good a cause!” exclaims Herrera. Another soldier, named Lerma, rushes to the spot and is nearly overpowered; while a stout Tlascaltec, Temacatzin, plants himself in front of the leader, half prostrate with exhaustion and wounds, and wards off the blows till Antonio de Quiñones, captain of the guard, manages to force his way forward and sustains him, followed by a number of men whom the report of their general’s danger has stirred to fierceness.[1165] “Away from here, your worship, and save your person,” cries the captain, “for without you all will be lost!” Cortés refuses, “for I desired rather death than life,” he writes; but finally by dint of pleading and main force he is induced slowly to retire, seeking to cover the rear of the fleeing. And well it was, for a longer stay would have proved fatal. But for the eagerness of the Mexicans to secure as prisoner so magnificent a prize, they could easily have despatched him. Aztecs made it a point to obtain as many prisoners as possible, particularly chiefs and nobles, and white men, who ranked even above these, in order to do honor to the war-god. This effort was prompted by a deep religious obligation as well as by warrior spirit.
Not far from the disastrous channel a horse was brought, upon which Cortés was mounted, though wounded in the leg. Shortly before, his chamberlain, Cristóbal de Guzman, a great favorite, had ridden up with a charger to the relief of his master, only to be surrounded with warriors and cut down, together with the animal,[1166] while another rider was obliged to retreat with a lance-thrust in the throat. On retiring from the section of causeway assigned to the horse, another animal was killed and a third narrowly escaped. Finally the troops reached the broader Tlacopan road, and now Cortés, with the nine horsemen left in his division, was able to take a firm stand against the enemy. Checked in their pursuit, and made timid in their charges by the presence of the bold line of horses and lances, they flung their missiles and insults with increased energy. Suddenly two or three Spanish heads were cast before the horsemen, with the cry: “Tonatiuh!” “Sandoval!” The meaning could not be misunderstood, and as the Spaniards gazed on the gory and disfigured faces a sickening fear crept over them. Could it be that these beloved leaders had fallen! There was no time for deliberation. Finding his own party now comparatively secure, Cortés hurriedly sent messengers to recall the other divisions under Alderete and Tápia.
There was hardly need for this message. The triumphant shouts of the Mexicans in pursuit of the troops of Cortés and the increased attack on their own had already warned these leaders. Still they persevered, although their men manifested some discouragement. It was not long, however, before two or three mutilated, bearded heads were cast before them with the cry, “Malinche is dead!” “Tonatiuh and all their men have fallen!” The leaders saw that farther advance was useless, especially since the Mexicans now attacked with great fury. The leaders kept their men in good order, and were already retiring when the order of recall reached them. The streets there being wider and easier, and the channels all filled, they found no trouble in rejoining their general. Now jointly they retreated through the plaza and down the Iztapalapan road, furiously pursued by the warriors, who showed themselves more reckless than usual on seeing their prey escape. The central temple was filling with a vast throng to watch the onslaught, and on the summit the priests were already burning incense and chanting in honor of victory, while the rabble railed at the humiliated children of the sun.
Alvarado had meanwhile advanced along the road to Tlatelulco from his causeway, leaving Sandoval to coöperate along the flank and to direct the movements of the brigantines and the filling of the channels. The advance was fiercely resisted by the Mexicans from roofs, cross-lanes, and barricades, and hundreds had been severely wounded, chiefly Tlascaltecs, only too many fatally, yet he persevered. He was already near the market, the aim of all efforts, when the drum and trumpet came to startle his men and to encourage the Mexicans to greater resistance. Progress was now almost checked, and soon came the cry, “Malinche is dead!” “Sandoval and the other captains are dead!” “Behold their faces!” And therewith several heads with gory beards were cast before them. “This shall be your fate!”