From the first, the Tenocha warriors took to the crossbows. There were four of them in all, though one needed repair and the job was not too successful. The arquebuses were another thing. There were three of them and the Indians were afraid of the noise. Besides that, they were too new to the clumsy muskets, and one of the new Indian musketeers overloaded his piece. He managed to kill himself and two others when it blew up.
Don stationed them on the pyramid which overlooked the tecpan, along with the crossbowmen and those who already bore longbows. They dominated what had become the fort of the enemy—four crossbows, two remaining arquebuses, and the longbows. Below, the Spanish and their Tlaxcalan allies had to keep out of sight, out of the courtyards, which hindered their activities considerably.
Alvarado was no novice at war. He retrained his cannon and soon managed to level the temple. But this led to no casualties at all. The Tenochas simply retreated to the far side of the pyramid and popped up once more as soon as the gun had been fired. The early model cannon were so primitive that it could be clearly seen under these circumstances when one was ready to be fired—seen, and guarded against.
Don suggested to the war chief, Cuitlahuac, that no more frontal attacks be made on the tecpan fort, that all fire against it be directed from other buildings in the vicinity, and particularly the pyramid. It was against all Indian warfare traditions, but Cuitlahuac was receptive. He liked the idea of sucking Cortes into the trap. It would have been comparatively easy to rip up ladders and take the place by storm, but they wanted all of the enemy, not just this handful. Orders were given that if the Spanish sortied again and attempted to take the pyramid top, the defenders fade away before them, scurrying down the opposite side, rain missiles on them from all directions, and then reoccupy their position when the Europeans were forced to return to their safer quarters.
Time was running out and daily messengers came with word of the progress of Cortes coming up from the coast. But Don Fielding had the long view in mind. He took one of the crossbows to the craftsmen in Tlaltelolco and gave them instructions to duplicate it as best they could. The one major shortcoming was that the actual bow on the Spanish models was made of steel, which gave the weapon its great power. All the Indians could use was wood. Don recalled that the Mongols, or some other people of antiquity, strengthened their bows by gluing a heavy strip of rawhide the full length of the back. He didn’t know exactly how it was done, but he passed the idea along for experimentation.
Cuauhtemoc had become Cuitlahuac’s right-hand man and was invariably in the first line. He had become the most accurate archer and spent long hours on the pyramid bedeviling the Spanish and their allies with his arrows.
Conscious of logistics, as the Indians weren’t, Don Fielding had Cuitlahuac send messengers and porters to every town in the immediate vicinity to trade for arrows and javelins and other military supplies, and also to request that each town begin all-out manufacture of additional quantities of these. Cuitlahuac and the Tlatocan put up an argument when Don insisted they barter for these things rather than confiscate them. For a century, the Tenochas had dominated this area with a strong and ruthless hand and were used to taking what they wanted.
No more, Don told them. Cortes was recruiting new allies. The defenders of Tenochtitlan couldn’t afford to antagonize anyone. If the wily Captain-General could bring a couple of hundred thousand Indians to his colors, the city was lost. Tenocha fences had to be mended. They didn’t have the time now to begin the operation, but at least they could refrain from further antagonism.
The message finally arrived that the Spanish were about to enter onto the causeway. Cuitlahuac sent out the orders to replace the beams in the bridges. No efforts were to be made to hinder the advance of the Spanish army. All canoes were withdrawn from the vicinity; all warriors were instructed to keep themselves hidden.
Cortes, riding in the lead at the head of his cavalry, must have smelled a rat. But for the better part of a year now, his contempt for the Indians had grown. The messages from Alvarado had been upsetting, but then, Alvarado had now but fifty Spanish and four hundred Indians at his disposal. The Captain-General had the largest army the Europeans had thus far mobilized in the New World and it was well-equipped by the standards of the day.
While they were still on the outskirts of the city, he had the trumpets peal, and his military band struck up a lively march. From the beleaguered tecpan came the blast of cannon triumphantly welcoming them.
The Spanish march made a brave display: the horsemen, the musketeers, the crossbowmen, the long lines of footmen with pikes; the Indians drawing the guns; the long lines of Tlaxcalan and Totonac porters with the supplies; the alert Spanish rearguard, so that no attempt could be made on the train.
All was silence. They filed down the causeway until it became the main street which entered upon the great square. The new recruits from the forces of Narvaez darted apprehensive looks about, but the veterans of Cortes were more philosophical. They had been in this town for months. They knew it and they knew its inhabitants. The Indian dogs were no match for white men!
Cuitlahuac, Cuauhtemoc, and Don Fielding stood at the top of the pyramid watching the parade, their faces empty of expression.
When all the newcomers had filed into the tecpan and the gate closed behind them, Don said, “Sound the great drums. And from now on, let them continue sounding night and day from the top of every pyramid in the city.”
Cuitlahuac said, looking at him, “Why? It will keep us from rest at night.”
“It will keep them from rest even more so. At least we know that they are our drums and indicate our belief in victory.” Don added in English, below his breath, “It’s known as psychological warfare.”
Cuauhtemoc said, “And we will keep up the attack, night and day, as well!”
Don shook his head. “No. As soon as night falls, we pull our warriors back, as though they have gone home to rest. Each night we do this. But secretly we post reliable warriors, ones that can be trusted not to sleep and not to leave their posts. Let these sentries each have conches. When the Spanish attempt to escape, let the conches sound and let every Tenocha in the city spring to arms.”
He turned to Cuitlahuac, “Send out messengers to every tribe in all the valley and even beyond. Have every warrior who will serve you come to the city as well armed as can be provided. When the Spanish sally forth and try to return to the mainland, it will be the crucial point. We must capture and destroy as much of that army as we can so as to earn time for ourselves.”
Cuitlahuac said questioningly, “How do you know they will sally forth and try to escape? They are much stronger than they were before.”
“Because here in the city they cannot maneuver their horse troops and it is too easy for our warriors to hide from them. Cities are not good battlegrounds for armies—as the Nazis found out after they were sucked into the ruins of Stalingrad.”
The two Indians frowned puzzlement at him.
He said, “It is not important. Malintzin will undoubtedly fight for a few days. He will sally forth into the great square. He will not be able to comprehend the fact that he is now on the defensive and his position is untenable. When he does make his sorties, attack with all your might. He must be shown that retreat to the mainland is his only alternative. When he does so retreat, we have him. The bridges will be removed and without boats he will not be able to cross the canals.”
Don turned to Cuauhtemoc. “Let one warrior out of ten be armed solely with the long poles with loops of rope on the end with which to pull the horsemen off their mounts.”
He had wanted to introduce la reata, the lariat, to the Tenochas for this purpose, but knew he had no time to train them. Besides, he didn’t have the slightest idea of how to throw a lasso himself. Possibly he could work it out eventually, but it was always time, time, time. He was fighting time.
The kettledrums began to sound from one pyramid, then from another; soon the whole town was arumble. Before
it was over, Don was going to regret he had ever made the suggestion.
The warriors began to congregate behind the shelters they had improvised all about the tecpan. Others appeared upon the top of the pyramid on which the three stood. Don noted that there were more men now with longbows and several with the new crossbows the craftsmen were making. The fire against the tecpan began.
The new crossbows weren’t as good as the Spanish ones by any means. Don doubted that they were even as efficient as the longbows, but they were better than the inefficient weapons the Tenochas had earlier. Once again, time was going to count here. The Indian workers were excellent and every crossbow they turned’out would be better than the last. The quality of firepower would improve as the days went by.
Don had been right about the sorties.
Suddenly the huge wooden gate the Spanish had built in the tecpan opened, and Cortes and at least eighty horses came charging out, lances couched. They dashed valiantly across the square, lancing, swinging their swords mightily, and most of the warriors scattered before them. Some stood and fought; of those who did, most died.
But from all directions came the clouds of arrows and javelins—from the rooftops, from the temple and pyramid tops, from behind the shelters, from the doorways of the community buildings.
Armor protected the Europeans, but not completely. Here and there a man or horse went down.
The Spanish charged completely across the square, cutting and lancing, their battle cries ringing on the air, calling upon this saint or that. Behind them, from the tecpan, the cannon roared and arquebuses boomed.
“Waste of powder,” Don muttered. “They don’t have enough targets.”
His eyes narrowed as he saw a Jaguar Knight, with one of his improvised loops on the end of a long lance, dash out from a point of concealment and flick the noose over an unsuspecting horseman’s head. He jerked, and the horseman crashed to the ground in a great clatter of armor. The Indian dashed forward, pulled an obsidian knife from his waist, and slashed the other’s throat. Pedro de Alvarado galloped up and lanced him.
Don shook his head. But at least the device worked. Cortes, Sandoval, and about twenty of the horsemen were heading at a gallop for the pyramid. They flung themselves from their steeds and, swords in hand, began the ascent.
“Let’s get out of here,” Don snapped.
Cuauhtemoc glared at him. “No. We’ll stand and fight.”
“Like hell we will,” Don said. “We’re the command staff; we can’t afford the luxury of standing and fighting. If anything happens to us, who is going to tell the warriors what to do? Let’s get out of here. Around to the other side!”
Cuauhtemoc, his longbow in hand, eyed the Spanish coming up the pyramid’s side. “If we stay, we die?”
“Yes,” Don said. “Come on!”
“This you know, my giant brother?”
“This I know,” Don lied. For all he really knew, they might have made a fight of it and even have thrown the ascending Spanish back, but he couldn’t take the chance.
He was no militarist, but he knew you didn’t risk your general in a battle. Alexander had charged at the head of his Companions, the Macedonian heavy cavalry, but by the time of Caesar, the military had evolved beyond that.
They scampered around to the far side of the pyramid and began the descent. Let the Spanish capture the top; they’d find nothing but the abandoned kettledrums, and kettledrums in Tenochtitlan were a dime a dozen. There’d be a new set of them banging away within minutes after Cortes and his men had abandoned the untenable position.
The fight continued in the square for more than an hour, and then a trumpet sounded and the horsemen withdrew to whence they had come.
“Big victory,” Don grunted. He gave instruction to have the fallen Spanish weapons gathered up.
The Indian warriors were filing back into the positions they had been driven from, and the heavy fire of arrows, crossbow quarrels, stones, and javelins was resumed. The top of the pyramid was reoccupied with its vantage point overlooking the main enclosure of the enemy and the many courtyards.
Don didn’t envy the Spanish position. He even felt a qualm or two for some of those below. Bernal Diaz, Avila, Fray Olmedo, and, of course, Malinche.
He turned to Cuitlahuac who was again standing next to him on the pyramid top.
“Above all, cut off their food; cut off their water. Let no canoes from the tecpan leave for the mainland and let no canoes from the mainland join them. At night, as well as day, allow them no access to the canals in their canoes.”
He sought into his memory for details of ancient warfare.
He said, “Saturate pieces of cotton with oil that will burn, bind them to arrows, and fire clouds of them into their quarters.”
He thought some more. “The bodies of those who have died—do not burn or bury them. Let them stand in the sun for a few days. When they are covered with maggots and stinking, throw them over the walls into the tecpan.”
Cuitlahuac stared at him, obviously repelled. “This is necessary?”
“Everything is necessary to defeat the Spanish.”
“This is not the manner in which the Tenochas have forever fought their enemies.”
“It sure as hell isn’t,” Don growled out. “This is total war. If I can start an epidemic in that camp, we’ve got it made. It’s known as biological warfare.”
Chapter Twenty
Captain-General Hernando Cortes simply couldn’t get it through his head that the city was no longer his. For the next few days he fought it out. Over and over again, the Spanish sallied forth—sometimes the cavalry alone, sometimes both horse and foot.
They soon found it was best to confine themselves to the great square. The moment they got into the narrower streets, rocks dropped down upon them from the flat rooftops like a rain. If they dashed into the houses to flush out the foe, the Indians fled over the roofs or into canoes in the canals.
Cortes sent Ordaz to reconnoiter the Tlacopan causeway with four hundred footmen, and they were driven back after losing eight soldiers to the howling, screeching Tenochas who swarmed everywhere. They reported the bridges removed.
And always the kettledrums boomed, all but driving the Spanish to madness.
In desperation, the Captain-General had built three wooden towers from the top of which his soldiers could fire onto the rooftops. They wheeled them out at early dawn and before noon all three were in the hands of Cuitlahuac’s braves, occupants either dead or prisoners.
The Tenocha forces were continuing to accumulate captured weapons, especially swords, lances, and pikes, but also a few crossbows and even a couple more muskets. The latter were immediately pressed into service. The others were stored in one of the rooms of the Eagle clan buildings.
During one of the rare pauses in activity, Don stared down at them. It came to him that even though the Indian warriors did not have the time to learn proper use of the sword, even improperly utilized it was better than the maquauhuitl, set with its obsidian blades. The Tenocha sword wasn’t so bad when the warrior first went into action, but after a few snipes at Spanish armor, the blades shattered and the weapon was little more than a club.
Don said to his constant companion, Cuauhtemoc, “Take these long knives of the Spanish and distribute them among those of your warriors who love most to use the maquauhuitl. At first they might seem awkward, but they will prove more effective against the footmen and the horses.”
Cuauhtemoc frowned unhappily, “These are not the traditional weapons of the Tenochas.”
Don grunted at that. “Well, we’d better start some new traditions then. Because we are never going to win a war against men with steel weapons while we carry stone ones.”
The other gave up. These days he seldom argued with this new blood brother of his. One seldom argues with gods.
From their command post on the top of the pyramid, Cuitlahuac, Cuauhtemoc, and Don Fielding watched the progress of the battle. It had been going o
n four days now, at a pace that seemed almost impossible to maintain from the viewpoint of the Spanish. Surely, almost all of them must be wounded by now. Don tried to think of some new tactic that would break their morale to the point where they’d attempt to desert the city. He had to get them out in those causeways, into the canals, where they’d be helpless.
It was the cavalry that gave him the most trouble. The horsemen, and the horses as well, were highly armored and the warriors had practically no defense against them. The Spanish lances took a terrible toll and the Tenochas could do little but run from them, only to be speared in the back.
Somewhere, Don had read that horse should not charge footmen. Why not? The Spanish must have read: disciplined footmen. But still, why not? Why shouldn’t cavalry charge foot?
His eyes narrowed and he turned to Cuauhtemoc thoughtfully. “Come with me,” he said and led the way down the pyramid back to where they had stored the captured Spanish weapons.
There were some thirty lances and more than that number of pikes. The lances were half again as long as the pikes.
Don said, “I want you to locate sixty of your bravest warriors. They must be absolutely fearless in battle and never have been known to run in the face of the enemy.”
“All we Tenochas…” Cuauhtemoc began.
But Don Fielding held up a hand. “Some men are braver than others. I want the bravest in all Tenochtitlan. You will be their chief. Assemble these sixty warriors here in the courtyard.”
Don Fielding had never held a spear in his hands in his life, but he managed to get his message over. He demonstrated.
“You advance in a straight line, two deep. Thirty of you in front, bearing these shorter spears, thirty in the second line, bearing these longer spears. You keep your line straight. No man dashes forward before the others, no matter how valiant. No man drops behind.
“When the Spanish ride at you, at the command of your chief, the first line drops to one knee and their spears are grounded, like this, butt on the ground, the point extended upward at a slant, like this. The second line holds its spears firmly, at breast level, extended over the shoulders of the warriors who are kneeling. The charge of the horses is received with no man giving way, even though he go down to black death under the hoofs, the swords, or the spears of the enemy.”
The Other Time Page 22