The chief looked on the verge of tears as he managed to hold his emotions in check long enough to respond, “You honor me with this gift and I accept. We will join your army and will fight the Aztecs by your side as equals.” He then extended his hand and forearm.
Hastelloy accepted the accord by grasping the chief’s offered arm. He then stepped aside for the father and daughter to enjoy their long-awaited reunion. While the two exchanged hugs and tears, Friar Aguilar handed back the reins to his horse. “You amaze me, Sir. You’ve subdued four tribes without a shot fired and even managed to enhance your numbers by several thousand in the process. How do you do it?”
At that moment, the horse reared its head back in protest as Hastelloy attempted to turn it around and head back to his army. To steady the animal and enlist its cooperation, he pulled a carrot from a side satchel and fed it to the horse. He then was able to reposition the animal without any further trouble.
“If you want to get something done, you can either use a stick to force compliance, or you can offer a carrot and earn cooperation in return. I find the carrot works best most of the time,” Hastelloy said before climbing into the saddle.
The friar did the same and rode alongside Hastelloy with Doña’s former mount in tow on their way back to the army. “What about the Aztecs? Their ruler, Montezuma, has rejected all requests you’ve made to speak with him. In fact, his last rejection included the severed head of our messenger in a basket. What sort of carrot do you plan to offer such a man who won’t even talk to you?”
“Some creatures only respond to the stick, I’m afraid; it’s in their nature,” Hastelloy answered in a flat, ominous tone. “In those cases, the trick is acquiring a timber large enough to do the job.”
Chapter 39: Sending a Message
THE MOMENT HASTELLOY and his army were spotted on approach, every native from the surrounding farm fields began to flee. They all sought refuge behind the defensive walls of Cholula, the second largest city in the Aztec Empire.
The locals had every reason in the world to trust that the city’s defenses could protect them; they always had. Standing before them now, Hastelloy had to admit that the city walls looked quite impressive. The barricades, which stood twenty feet tall and three feet thick, would laugh at any assault using weaponry known to these people. It was good, then, that Hastelloy brought along something new to employ in his assault. These people could not possibly comprehend the devastation that powdered weapons could unleash, but they were about to learn.
The empires of Europe already learned this lesson long ago. When cannons showed up alongside lesser siege machinery, city walls became obsolete almost overnight. Stout fortifications that stood firm for hundreds of years crumbled with only a few shots fired. Cannons changed everything about warfare in Europe, and they would do so again here in the New World.
Hastelloy arrayed his army of six hundred soldiers and three thousand native warriors recruited from surrounding tribes a couple hundred yards from the intimidating walls of Cholula. They stood well out of range for the city’s archers to reach them, but his fifteen cannons pointed toward the city walls would have no such difficulty hitting their target.
Per the local etiquette of conducting warfare, the city gates opened and allowed five men wearing white robes and glass amulets hung from cords around their necks to exit. The gates then closed behind them as they proceeded into the clearing between the city and its besiegers. The original intent of this tradition was to allow the attackers a forum to present their grievances to the city elders, such as, “you stole a hundred women from our village, and we want them back.”
This was supposed to end in an amicable settlement, where both sides walked away happy. In practice, the city elders usually responded with something to the effect of “So what? You can’t touch us behind these walls. Now go screw a goat and take this rabble along with you.” Hastelloy had no intention of listening to their predictably pompous words. On this day, he was a man of action.
“Fire!” Hastelloy ordered just before plunging his index fingers into his ears. A moment later, the concussion wave of fifteen cannons firing in unison slammed into him like a hammer beating an anvil. The painful impact was nothing, however, compared to the blow struck against the city walls.
Two cannonballs struck the gatehouse on either side of the massive doors and decimated the support structure. The catwalk running over the doorway teetered for a moment before collapsing on the left side, which brought the right side down with it as well. The double doors running between shattered into splinters as it all crashed down on top of them.
The rest of the wall fared no better against the bombardment. Cannonballs exploded all along the base to send splintered fragments of timbers in all directions. Sections not directly damaged by a projectile collapsed inward on the city since there was nothing left to support their unbearable weight. In all, a two hundred-foot-wide section of the walls protecting Cholula simply ceased to exist over the span of a few seconds.
In the open field, as the white smoke from the cannons rolled over them, Hastelloy observed the five city leaders. The full sound and fury of the bombardment rushed right over their heads and left them stumbling and staggering about in a daze. One by one, the men turned around to look at their once proud defenses.
There was a specific, visible moment when the reality of their hopeless situation hit home for each of them. First, the shoulders slumped. Next, the rigid posture crumbled to a dejected slouch. The final moment of defeat came when each of the men raised their hands to grasp their heads in disbelief.
“That’s our cue,” Hastelloy said to his trusted translator, Doña, before spurring his mount forward to meet with the city’s envoys. Behind him, Doña and thirteen cavalrymen proceeded into the field with six hundred musket men marching close behind for one final show of overwhelming force.
When he arrived to tower over the five awestruck men from atop his horse, Hastelloy kept his words short for Doña to translate. “I trust that I’ve made my point. You are beaten. Surrender your city to me, or I will destroy it.”
The five men exchanged clueless looks with one another until the eldest of the group finally found his words. “Our gates are open to you oh great one. We invite you and your fellow white men to a feast held in your honor tonight in the temple.”
“And what of my native warriors?” Hastelloy had Doña ask in their language with a heavy dose of indignation in her voice.
“We will hand over five hundred slaves and two wagons full of gold to them. However, with regret, we cannot allow them into our city. Our peoples are bitter enemies. The temptation to do us harm would be too great and would most certainly destroy this friendly accord,” the elder answered with a stern stare letting Doña know that he still considered her his inferior.
Doña translated the man’s statement and then added her own commentary to Hastelloy in their shared language. “Our people have suffered atrocities at the hands of the Aztecs. Hundreds of friends and my family members have been lost to them in wars and to their sacrifice hunters. We deserve our revenge; we need our revenge.”
“Yes you do,” Hastelloy assured her with a compassionate hand on her shoulder. “But Cholula has a hundred thousand inhabitants, and we have but a few thousand warriors. Even without walls, we cannot take this city as outside invaders with so few. This is about sending a message to Montezuma; revenge can wait.”
“You cannot trust these people,” Doña insisted. “They are trying to divide your army by inviting you into the city while the rest of us remain outside. Our warriors will not stand for this. It’s a trap. You must see that it is a trap.”
“Yes it is, and your revenge will not have to wait long,” Hastelloy concluded before directing her to address the elder once more.
“We accept the peace accord you propose as long as my translator is allowed to attend the feast as my guest,” she said with a forced smile to the former leaders of Cholula.
Hastello
y received an affirmative nod and an extended hand, which he grasped to seal the deal with the city elder.
Chapter 40: A Dish Best Served Cold
HASTELLOY AND HIS men were welcomed into the city of Cholula with open arms. As they passed through the demolished walls, the sight of wide, clean streets took the men by surprise. They viewed these people as rustic savages, and expected them to live in squalor because they did not know any better. Instead, they found tall, solid houses lining wide streets that would have rivaled any city in Europe, except this metropolis was kept immaculate and clean by comparison.
Ogling citizens curious about the newcomers lined either side of the street leading down the center of the city. Hastelloy played his part by smiling and waving to the masses until a cluster of ten women burst through the crowd and rushed toward him. They meant him no harm, and only sought to touch his exotic white skin and thin brown beard.
“Now,” Hastelloy whispered over his shoulder to Doña before a dozen of his soldiers waded into the cluster of women. She began fawning over Hastelloy along with the others and was eventually hauled away and deposited on the side of the road with the others.
As the parade began to move forward again, Hastelloy looked out of the corner of his eye to see Doña blending into the mass of natives without difficulty. “That a girl,” he whispered to himself.
The wide road they walked led straight to the city center, where the crown jewel of Cholula stood, the temple of Quetzalcoatl. Tall walls encased its square base made of stone. It covered over forty acres and stood a hundred and thirty feet tall. The temple’s shape was that of a stepped pyramid consisting of nine levels with a marvelous idol made of gold, jewels, and feathers occupying the place of honor on top. Hastelloy was quite certain that the temple was the largest man-made monument on Earth. The Great Pyramid in Giza stood much taller, but by volume, this temple dwarfed even that magnificent feat of engineering.
The feast held upon the temple’s seventh terrace afforded a grand view of the city while offering more than enough room to accommodate the thousands in attendance, many of whom wore glass amulets around their necks similar to the city leaders.
The Cholulans spared no expense to entertain their conquerors with all manner of spectacle. Musicians played their instruments with great skill, and performers in full feather and fur regalia performed traditional dance routines. Off in a side structure, hundreds of native prostitutes also made their services available to the newcomers.
All the while, every manner of food and wine was available in endless supply with the Cholulans encouraging its consumption. Had Hastelloy not warned his men beforehand, every single one of them would be inebriated beyond his ability to stand by this point in the evening. Fortunately, the men obeyed their orders and kept their weapons close and their consumption of drink to a minimum.
For his part, Hastelloy pretended to enjoy the festivities while keeping his critical eye evaluating the city down below. Before the night hour extinguished all sunlight, he noticed the natives gathering heaping piles of stones on the roofs of the flattop houses lining the main street and sighed inwardly with disappointment and disgust at what would soon take place. This was indeed looking more and more like a trap, but he would wait for Doña’s reconnaissance report before taking a course of action he deemed repugnant yet necessary.
Later in the evening, Hastelloy spotted a familiar woman walking among the festivities offering her tray of assorted meats for the guests to enjoy. He moved her way until the two of them made eye contact and she made a straight-line path for Hastelloy with great concern showing on her face.
“Doña, what have you found?” Hastelloy asked as she set aside her wooden serving tray.
“Trouble. They have constructed barricades and dug ditches all along the main road to keep your men confined between the houses where they have the rooftops lined with men ready to throw heavy stones upon your men,” she reported.
“They also sacrificed five slaves in the temple of war to induce the god’s blessing, and most of the citizens have sent their wives and children out of the city.”
“Good. Women and children don’t need to be a part of this, and the men will need more than a blessing from their god to survive this night,” Hastelloy replied.
“How is this good?” Doña insisted. “To fight or to fly seems equally hopeless in a city full of enemies with barricaded streets and fortified houses on every side. You have fallen for the trap that I warned you about.”
Hastelloy pointed down to the walls surrounding the temple grounds. “Look again. We occupy the only fortified walls in this city, and we hold inside these walls a host of wealthy, elite nobles. This was a trap all right, but one of my design, not theirs.”
Hastelloy stepped over to one of his soldiers, and took the man’s musket. He pulled back the flint hammer, looked around for the nearest native noble with a glass amulet around his neck, took aim and fired into the man’s chest. The thunder crack, associated muzzle flame, and scream from the victim brought every conversation and musical note to a dead silence.
That was the signal. Hastelloy’s men wasted no time shrugging their muskets off their shoulders to level them at the unarmed attendees of the feast.
“Everybody down the steps and into the temple courtyard,” Hastelloy had Doña shout on his behalf as he crouched over the wounded man and yanked the glass amulet away from his neck.
“What is the meaning of this,” the city elder demanded of Hastelloy while his soldiers corralled the civilian guests and began forcing them all down the temple steps using violent jabs with the hilt of their muskets to prod them along.
“It’s about proving a theory,” Hastelloy answered through Doña’s translation. While only Doña and the priest could see, he pried free the cork lid from the amulet and poured out the thick white fluid contents into the gaping hole in the dying man’s chest. The stem cell serum went to work on contact and soon rendered the man good as new.
“I know about your healing waters,” Hastelloy declared as he snatched away the high priest’s amulet.
“I also know of your plans to assault us when we leave the temple grounds after this feast,” Hastelloy told the high priest bluntly while forcing him and the healed man down the temple steps with a violent shove that accompanied every word he spoke. “Barricades, ditches, stones, sacrifices to your god of war; I know about all of it.”
As they reached the courtyard, Hastelloy watched the elder’s eyes dart from side to side, attempting to concoct an explanation while fighting an inner wave of panic. When he finally found his words, there was no attempt at denial. “It was all Emperor Montezuma’s doing. He told us if the walls fell to the white man’s weapons, then we were to invite you into the temple and set the trap.”
“That is no excuse for such treachery,” Hastelloy insisted.
“That is all over now,” the elder went on with his voice growing more desperate with every syllable he spoke while backing his way in to join the rest of the prisoners held in the center of the courtyard. “You have us captive, I can call off the attack and the city truly will belong to you and no one will be harmed. You have my word.”
Hastelloy took a moment to look to his right and then left to verify that his men were holding a semicircle formation with their muskets pointing at the captives, who were pinned against the closed temple gates leading back out into the city.
“I already tried communicating with Montezuma the diplomatic way, but he wouldn’t listen. I’m quite certain he will hear this message, though,” Hastelloy had Doña translate before drawing his sword and stabbing the old man through the chest. While a wave of screams and panic washed over the captives, Hastelloy withdrew his blade and stepped back as the priest crumpled to the ground.
Doña was in a state of complete shock at seeing the murder take place right in front of her. Hastelloy managed to drag her back twenty steps before his soldiers let fly their wall of lead.
A third of the Cholulan
nobles perished in the first volley. The rest met their demise screaming at the top of their lungs as soldiers ran them through with their swords. As ordered, Hastelloy’s men took away the glass amulets from those who had them around their necks and shattered them on the ground. They had no idea why, but Hastelloy and Doña knew the extra step would render their wounds terminal.
The initial blast of musket fire accompanied by the obvious screams of a massacre taking place inside the temple grounds prompted the Cholulans waiting to ambush Hastelloy and his men into desperate action. Loud banging from the temple doors announced that the Cholulans were attempting to force their way in to help their comrades. When the gruesome deed was complete, Hastelloy had his men form a skirmish line twelve men deep. Once all of them had time to reload their muskets and level the weapons, he ordered the doors opened.
The Cholulans rushed forward for the courtyard, but the narrow entry point doomed their rescue attempt from the start. Hastelloy’s men repelled the assault with ease by rotating their fire. Two rows of men would fire, and then step aside to reload while their fellow soldiers fired another volley. By the time it was their turn to fire again, they were loaded and ready to deliver another wall of death to their adversaries.
No matter how many Cholulans fell, they kept trying to force their way in. In the end, their impressive display of bravery and dedication to rescuing their noble class amounted to nothing but a pile of dead bodies with smoldering holes in them. Had they also carried the healing waters, the battle would have been much more challenging, but it appeared only the elite enjoyed the luxury of perpetual healing.
The muskets protected the avenue of approach for over three hours. During that time, Hastelloy’s native warriors outside the city began pressing inward when they heard the first musket blast. Eventually they fell on the rear of the enemy and put them to utter rout.
Origins: Discovery Page 24