CHAPTER XL.
FINAL OVERTHROW OF THE AZTEC GODS
The siege of Tenochtitlan had now been going on for nearly three months. Still the besieged, animated by the heroism of their young king, and the fatal superstition that caused them to believe in the promises and tremble at the threats of their false priests, held out. Famine, sickness, and death stalked abroad through the city; but it would not surrender, nor would it so long as every house was a fortress and every canal a barricade. Guatamotzin steadily refused to treat with embassies, or grant a personal interview to the Christian leader. Scores of Spaniards and hundreds of Huetzin's brave warriors had been sacrificed by priestly knives, and their blood cried out for vengeance. In view of these facts, Cortes came reluctantly to the conclusion that the beautiful city must be destroyed, its buildings levelled to the earth to afford a clear sweep for his guns, and its canals, filled with their débris, converted into solid ground for the unimpeded movements of his cavalry.
So the fatal order was given, and a hundred thousand natives of Anahuac, who had suffered too bitterly from the oppression of the Aztec to feel pity for him in the hour of his distress, seized their heavy coas (picks), and sprang cheerfully to the work of destruction. First, the openings in the causeways were so solidly filled that they were never again opened. Then the frail tenements of the suburbs were demolished, and a broad belt, encircling the more substantially built portions of the city, was presented for the movement of the troops. The defenders of Tenochtitlan did not view these measures with indifference; but, sallying forth on all sides, maintained an incessant warfare with the besiegers.
At this stage of the proceedings a message was sent to Guatamotzin, offering honorable terms of peace, and he called a great council to consider it. His nobles advised its acceptance, but the priests, foreseeing their own downfall if its terms were agreed to, forbade him to submit. Their councils prevailed; and thus, in obedience to priestly selfishness, was this queenly city of the New World doomed to annihilation.
For two days the besiegers quietly awaited an answer to their message. At length it came in the shape of a furious sortie, from every city street, of host after host of desperate Aztecs. Like swollen mountain torrents bursting their confining flood-gates, they swept in wave after wave, across the causeways, to the very entrenchments of their enemy, threatening to overwhelm him by sheer force of numbers. But the besiegers were too strongly fortified, and too well armed, to be dislodged. Into the very faces of the dense Aztec ranks was poured a withering fire from the land batteries, while their flanks were enfiladed by the guns of the fleet. Finally, hidden beneath clouds of sulphurous smoke, their shattered columns wavered, and then rolled slowly back into the city. It was their last great effort, and from this time on, the proud city seemed to await its doom in sullen apathy.
Now the work of destruction was pressed with the utmost vigor. Day after day witnessed the demolition of dwellings, palaces, and temples, the filling of canals, and the penetrating of the besiegers, from two sides at once, further and further toward the heart of the Aztec capital. Fiercely did its starving defenders contest each foot of progress, fighting from house to house, darting out in small parties from side streets to slay a score or so of workmen, and then as suddenly disappearing, charging after the retreating forces at each nightfall, and at all times battling with the ferocity of despair.
From the six hundred temples of the city Huetzin and his band of picked warriors hurled the idols, one after another, until at length, in all Tenochtitlan, only one abiding-place remained to the Aztec gods. This was the lofty teocal overlooking the market-place of Tlateloco, which was second only in size and importance to the mighty structure from which the war-god had long since been driven.
Three-fourths of the beautiful city, including the stately palace of its king, lay in ruins, when near the close of a day of destruction, the two attacking armies, doggedly fighting their way through the still innumerable host of Aztecs, came in sight of each other on opposite sides of the market-place. Suddenly, from the teocal overlooking it, a bright blaze shot high in the air, reddening the eastern sky with a glow like that of the western sunset. So ominous was the signal, that for a moment all combatants paused to regard it. As they gazed upward, a small body of men appeared on the verge of the lofty platform, and the next instant a huge, shapeless mass, came crashing and thundering down the steep declivity. During the momentary silence that followed, a single figure stood boldly outlined, on the point from which the image had come, and, in the ringing tones of Huetzin the Toltec, were heard the words:
"Thus perishes the last of the Aztec gods!"