Then, making in mid-air the holy sign of his faith, he disappeared.
With joyous shouts the Christian soldiers sprang forward to complete their victory; but it was completed. Guatamotzin was already a fugitive, and, without king or gods, the Aztecs would fight no more.
That very evening Sandoval, who had been made admiral of the fleet, chased with his swiftest vessel a large periagua that was endeavoring to escape from the city. As he drew near to it, and was about to open fire, a stately figure sprang up, and proclaimed:
"I am the king! Slay me if you will, but spare these helpless ones."
On hearing this, Sandoval ordered his men to lower their weapons, and received Guatamotzin with courtesy and honor on board his vessel.
Thus ended the bitter siege of Tenochtitlan, a siege unsurpassed in the annals of war for the heroic fortitude, bravery, and persistence shown on both sides.
That night the fall of the Aztec capital, and the overthrow of its gods, was signalized by one of the most fearful storms ever known in the Mexican valley. For hours the rain descended in torrents, the heavens were rent by incessant flashes of blinding lightning, and the continuous crash of thunder shook the encircling mountain-walls to their foundation. It was a fitting requiem over the death of a brave and powerful, but at the same time cruel and superstitious, nation.
On the following morning began an exodus, from the devastated city, of its remaining inhabitants; and so great was the number who had survived the horrors of battle, pestilence, and famine, that the sorrowful processions occupied three days in defiling across the causeways to the mainland. As they had for many days been unable to bury their dead, the deserted city was now but a vast charnel-house in which no human being could exist. As soon after this as was practicable, Cortes set to work, with the aid of the conquered citizens and immense levies drawn from the surrounding country, to rebuild what he had destroyed. The first building to be erected was a magnificent Christian cathedral, which, dedicated to St. Francis, was made to occupy the very site on which formerly stood the temple of the Aztec war-god. So actively was the work of reconstruction pushed, that in less than four years' time the new city of Mexico, in many respects more splendid than its predecessor on the same site, had arisen from the ashes of Tenochtitlan.
With the fall of the Aztec capital, and the final overthrow of its cruel gods, Huetzin, the Knight of Castile and head chief of the free republic of Tlascala, was absolved from his vow. Thus the moment his military duties would permit, he sought the brave and beautiful Indian girl, to win whom had for so long been the hope of his life. He found her in the royal gardens of Tezcuco; where, above the grave of Tiata, he declared to Marina the love which had been hers, and had been reciprocated by her, from the time of their first meeting. A few days later they were married by the good Father Olmedo, the Christian priest who had accompanied the white conquerors through all their weary marches and battles.
Thus when the Lord of Titcala returned to his mountain home, at the head of his army of victorious warriors, all other causes for happiness seemed to him insignificant as compared with that of taking with him, as his wife, the maiden whose services as interpreter to the white conquerors were no longer needed.