It was fortunate for the bulk of the Spanish army that the efforts of the Aztecs were invariably directed toward the taking of prisoners, rather than to the killing of their enemies; though to the unfortunates thus captured and dragged away for sacrifice, instant death would have been infinitely preferable. Everywhere the Spaniards found barricades erected, and at these points were massed fresh bodies of Aztec troops, impatiently awaiting their turn to plunge into the fray. No matter how often they were repulsed or how many of them were killed, they appeared to the disheartened whites to swarm in undiminished numbers, and with unabated courage.
So the day was spent in a steady succession of petty, but desperate engagements. At its close, although the Spaniards had been everywhere victorious, they were exhausted and filled with gloomy forebodings, while their adversaries seemed more confident and in a better humor for fighting than at the beginning of the struggle.
All night long they gathered outside the Spanish quarters, taunting the invaders with their helplessness, now that the gods were awake. "The altars of Huitzil thirst for your blood!" they cried. "But soon they will be drenched with it, and the wild beasts of the palace shall feast on your carcasses! The knives of sacrifice are sharpened!—and cages for fattening await the lean and hungry Tlascalans!"
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A BATTLE IN MID-AIR
So fierce was the Aztec temper, that, with earliest dawn of the third day of fighting, they were swarming at the walls. So determined was their assault, that, ere they could be driven back, nearly a thousand of them had leaped inside, and gained the courtyard. Although these fought with a desperation that resulted in serious injury to the garrison, most of them were quickly despatched by the Tlascalans, among whom they had appeared. A number, however, escaped, and darted into the numerous buildings of the old palace. Here, though the Tlascalans pursued them like ferrets after rats, they managed to set numerous fires, kill or wound several persons, stab Cortes himself through the hand, and do an immense amount of mischief before being finally hunted down and destroyed. A few more assaults as desperate and successful as this would seal the fate of the besieged, and, even to the bravest, their situation began to appear alarming.
In this strait, Cortes appealed to his royal prisoner and urged him to use his influence with his subjects to bring about a cessation of hostilities. This, Montezuma at first refused to do; but, when assured that the invaders would willingly leave the city if a way were opened to him, he finally consented. Arrayed for the occasion in his most kingly robes, he was escorted to the roof of the central turret of the palace by a brilliant retinue of those Aztec nobles who still shared his fortunes, and a number of Spanish cavaliers.
In the streets below the battle was raging furiously; but, as his subjects recognized their monarch, the din of clashing weapons and fierce war-cries instantly ceased. The tumult of war was succeeded by a stillness as of death. Many of the Aztecs prostrated themselves to the ground; others bowed their heads; but some gazed, unabashed, and even defiantly, at the king, whose weak-minded superstition had lost him his kingdom. More than one of these daring spirits secretly fitted an arrow to his bowstring, and nervously fingered it. In more than one breast a sacrilege was meditated that, though certain to be avenged by the gods, might, after all, be for the best. But first they would hear what this dishonored king had to say.
He was bidding them disperse, and do no further harm to his friends the white men, who, if allowed, would willingly return whence they came.