University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

The cannoniers, moved by this new feeling, discharged
their last volley with good will, and, at the
same moment, the crossbowmen and musketeers shot
off their pieces from the wall and the terraces. The

four sides of the palace were thus, at the same instant,
sheeted with flame; and the effect of the combined
discharge was incalculably great and fatal
among the dense bodies of besiegers. As they staggered,
and fell back a little, to recover from their
confusion, the mounted men, who had placed themselves
in readiness for the final charge, rushed at
once, spear in hand, on the disordered multitude,
dealing death at every thrust, and almost at every
tramp of their chargers.

It was precisely at this moment, that the Indian
emperor, arrayed in the pompous and jewelled robes,
in which he was wont to preside at the greater festivals
of the gods, with the Copilli on his head, and
the golden buskins on his feet, preceded by a noble
bearing the three rods of authority, and attended by
half a dozen valiant cavaliers, (of whom the neophyte
was one,) holding their bucklers in readiness to
protect him from any ill-directed missile,—stepped
upon the terrace and advanced towards the battlements.
The spectacle that presented itself in the
dawning light, was, to him at least, grievous and
horrid. The earth of the square, and the dwellings
that surrounded it, were torn by the cannon-shots,
and many of the houses had tumbled into ruins.
From this height, also, could be seen the blackened
wrecks, which marked the path of the army, returning,
the previous day, from the temple. But a more
sorrowful sight was presented to the unfortunate
monarch, in the prospect of his people, great numbers
already lying dead on the furrowed square, while
the survivors were falling fast under the lances of the
horsemen.

Don Hernan enjoyed for a moment, with malicious
satisfaction, the exclamations of grief, with which
his prisoner beheld this sight; for it was his pleasure
to believe, that Montezuma was himself the planner
of the insurrection. Then, giving a sign to a trumpeter,
who was with the party, to wind a retreat, the
horsemen instantly reined round their steeds, and galloped

back to the court-yard. With a loud yell of
triumph, the Mexicans, thinking their pursuers fled
from fear, prepared to follow them, and poised their
weapons as a prelude to the assault. At that critical
period, the cavaliers moved aside from their prisoner,
and he stood confronted with his people. The great
cry with which the barbarians beheld their monarch,
had something in it that was touching, for it expressed
a childish joy; but there was something still more
affecting in the result, to those whose hearts were
not utterly steeled, when they beheld the universal
multitude, as with one accord, fling themselves upon
their knees, and, dropping their weapons and pronouncing
the name of the king, extend their hands
towards him, as to a father.

“Is it possible then,” muttered, or rather thought,
Don Amador de Leste, smothering a sudden pang of
remorse, “that these blood-thirsty barbarians are
only seeking our lives, to liberate their king? Surely,
we do a great sin, to slay them for their love.—I
would that my knight, my people, and myself, were
fighting the Turks again.”—

The sudden change from the furious tumult of war
to such stillness as belongs to midnight, was impressive
and even awful; and solemn looks, both from
his subjects and his foes, from those who fought in
the court-yard, and those who manned the roof and
the turrets, were bent on the royal captive, as he
stepped upon the battlement, and addressed himself
to his people.

“My children!” said Montezuma, for so his words
were rapidly interpreted by De Morla,—“if ye are
shedding your blood, to convince me of your affection,
know that I feel its constancy, without approving
its rashness. Though I be a prisoner—” He
paused, for the word stuck in his throat, and groans
and lamentations showed how unpalatable it was to
his subjects. “Though I be a prisoner with the
Teuctli, yet have you to know, it is, in a great measure,

with mine own consent; and, at this moment,
I remain not by enforcement, but by choice.”

The unhappy monarch, by so expressing his address
as to steer clear of offence to the Spaniards,
(for well he knew they dreaded lest his confessions
should still more inflame the citizens,) committed
the more fatal error of displeasing his people. A
murmur of indignation ran through the mass, when
Montezuma, with his own lips, confirmed his abasement.
Several rose, frowning, to their feet, and a
young man, parting quickly from the crowd, advanced
so near to the palace, that his features could
be plainly distinguished. He was of noble stature,
countenance, and mien, evidently of the highest
order of nobility, and enjoyed the distinction of a
principality in the House of Darts, as was shown by
the red fillet in his hair, suspending the tufts of
honour. His trunk and shoulders were invested in a
coat of armour, either of scales of copper or of
leather, richly gilt, bordered at the bottom with lambrequins
of green and red feathers. His limbs were
naked, saving only the bright sandals on his feet, and
the glittering bracelets on his arms. His left arm
supported a light buckler, doubtless of wicker-work,
though painted with many bright and fantastic colours;
and, from the bottom of it, waved a broad penacho,
as well as a bulky maquahuitl, which he held in his
left hand, while balancing a copper javelin in his
right. A tall plume of the most splendid hues nodded
majestically on his head.

As this bold and noble-looking youth stepped up to
the very mouths of the cannon, and raised his fiery
eyes to the king, Don Amador de Leste thought that
he recognized in him the princely ambassador of Cholula,—the
young fugitive, who had been so ready to
dispute the path with him, under the walls of the holy
city.

“Dost thou say this, thou that wert once their lord,
to the people of Mexitli?” said the young prince, (for,
as has been recorded by other historians, it was the

valiant Quauhtimotzin, the nephew of the king, who
now so sharply rebuked him.) “Dost thou indeed
confess, son of Axajacatl! that thou art, by thine own
consent, the friend of a perfidious stranger? by thine
own choice, O conqueror of many nations! the serf
and slave of him who is the brother of Tlascala?
Then art thou, indeed, what we have called thee,—the
slayer of thy people,—for this blood has flown at thy
bidding; a traitor to thy throne,—for thou hast surrendered
it to a master; an apostate to thy gods,—
for thou hast shut thine ears, when they called upon
thee for vengeance. Miserable king!—and yet a
king no more! When thy people wept to see thee
degraded, thou gavest them up to slaughter; and
while they come to restore thee to thy rights, thou
confessest, that thou lovest these less than the shame
of captivity! Know then, that, for thy baseness, the
gods have pronounced thee unworthy to be their
viceroy, and thy people have confirmed the decree.
We break the rods of authority; we trample upon
the robes of state: and Montezuma is no longer a
king in Tenochtitlan!”

The unhappy monarch trembled, while he listened
to this insulting denunciation, for he felt that he had
deserved it. But his people still lay prostrate on the
earth; and, hoping that they shared not the indignation
of his kinsman, he elevated his voice again, and
spoke sternly:—

“Why doth Quauhtimotzin forget that he is the son
of my brother, and my slave? Is the young man
that smiles in jewels, wiser than he that hath gray
hairs? and the people that delve in canals and build
up the temples, have they more cunning than the
king who councils with the spirits at the altar? Know,
that what has been done, has been done wisely, for
it was according to the will of heaven; and heaven,
which has tried our fidelity, is about to reward it with
happiness and peace. The strangers have promised
to depart from us: throw down your arms, and let
them be gone.”

“And wilt thou,” said the prince, elevating his
voice to a still angrier pitch, “who hast been so
many times deluded, counsel us to listen to their lies?
O fallen Montezuma! thou leaguest with them against
us. Wilt thou suffer them to escape, when we have
them enclosed in nets, as the birds that sing in thy
gardens? O degraded chief! thou hast not the courage
to desire the blood of them that have dethroned
thee! Thou art not he that was Montezuma; thy
words are the words of a Christian; thou speakest
with the lips of a slave, and the heart of a woman;
thou art a Spaniard, and thy fate shall be the fate of
a Spaniard! Cuitlahuatzin is our king; and we strike
thee as a foeman!”

As the prince concluded his indignant oration, he
swung round his head the javelin, which, all this time,
he had balanced in his hand, and lanched it, with all
his force, full at the breast of Montezuma. The shield
of the novice, quickly interposed before the body of
the king, arrested the sharp weapon, and it fell, innocuous,
on the terrace. At the same moment, the
Mexicans all sprang to their feet, with loud cries, as
if giving way to repressed fury, and brandished their
arms. The bucklers of the cavaliers were instantly
extended before the monarch, to protect him from the
dreaded missiles. But, as if desperation had robbed
him of his fears, and restored to him, for his last hour,
some share of that native spirit which had elevated
him to the throne, he pushed them immediately aside,
aud raising himself to his full height, and spreading
forth his arms, gazed majestically, though with a
ghastly countenance, on his people. The words of
mingled intreaty and command were already on his
lips, but they were lost even to the Spaniards who
stood by, in the thunder of shouts coming from twenty
thousand voices; and the warning cry of Cortes was
equally unheard, bidding the Spaniards to “Save the
king!” The shields were interposed, however, without
command, and caught many of the missiles,—
stones, arrows, and darts,—which fell like a shower

on the group,—but not all. An arrow pierced the
right arm, a stone maimed the right leg, and another,
striking upon the left temple of the abandoned monarch,
crushed the bone in upon the brain; and he fell
into the arms of the cavaliers, like a dead man.

The cannoniers, at that moment, seeing the returning
rage of the barbarians, shot off their pieces. But
the battle was done. No sooner had the Mexicans
beheld their monarch fall under the blows of their
own weapons, than they changed their cries of fury
to lamentations; and throwing down their arms, as
if seized with a panic, they fled from the square, leaving
it to the Christians and the dead.