Hastelloy finally saw a wave of native warriors step through the gate wearing green wreaths on their heads to distinguish them from the Cholulans. He ordered his men to lower their weapons and allow them to enter. Among them was Doña’s father who embraced his daughter and thanked his gods for seeing her safely through the ordeal.
“Send your warriors out into the city and destroy any glass amulets that you find,” Hastelloy ordered. “Your revenge is at hand.”
The chieftain rewarded his order with a bright, broad smile before dashing off into the city. Shouts in various native languages rang out to relay the order. In response, a rolling wave of high-pitched war cries only a mythical banshee could hope to match rose up from the native warrior ranks. The terrible sound, amplified by the rage these people bore the Aztecs for years of rape, theft, and murder, brought many of those left in the city to their knees. Each of their faces ran white with panic as three thousand natives intent on revenge rushed toward them to ransack their now vulnerable city.
Hastelloy then set his soldiers to the task of clearing away the thousands of dead bodies littering the courtyard. While they worked, he turned to Doña expecting to see the same broad smile of elation he witnessed on her father’s lips, but instead he saw profound sadness in her eyes. Alas, the taste of revenge was not as sweet in practice as it was in theory.
“What you saw up there on the temple,” Hastelloy said with his hands grasping Doña’s head and forcing her to look him in the eyes, “you can never speak of it to anyone. Not even your father. If you do, others will seek that power and rule with as much cruelty as the Aztecs. The knowledge must end with you and me.”
“How did you know about the healing power contained in their amulets?” Doña asked.
“Let’s just say that I’ve seen that trick before and leave it at that.”
Chapter 41: Message Received
THE WEEK THAT followed his conquest and subsequent massacre at Cholula saw Hastelloy’s army acquire an unprecedented amount of territory. Every Aztec city they encountered opened their gates to welcome them rather than try to resist and provoke the same fate as Cholula. Stories boasting of Hastelloy’s powerful cannons preceded his arrival, as did his reputation as a butcher. Word of his deeds even reached the ears of the Aztec leader, Emperor Montezuma.
The pace of Hastelloy’s conquests forced the emperor to finally acknowledge his envoys. Two days ago, a messenger arrived inviting Hastelloy and his forces as the emperor’s guests to the capital city of Tenochtitlán.
Hastelloy accepted the gracious invitation and now rode a horse at the front of his army as they crested the last hill before the Aztec capital came into view. The size and grandeur of the view left every one of them speechless.
The metropolis was built upon a network of shallow lakes covering nearly five square miles. Causeways leading north, south, and west of the city connected it to the mainland while an interlacing series of canals amid the city allowed visitation to all sections of the city by either foot or canoe.
Bridges that let canoes and other traffic to pass freely interrupted these causeways. Conquering Tenochtitlán would prove most challenging for any invading force because the bridges could be pulled away, if necessary, to defend the city.
The water level was maintained at a steady depth by an earthen levee that stretched nearly ten miles in length and kept the spring-fed freshwater around Tenochtitlán in, and kept the salty seawater beyond the dike to the east. Tenochtitlán was nothing short of an engineering marvel, and to think the Europeans here in the New World had the nerve to refer to these learned people as rustics.
Surrounding the raised causeways were canal waterways featuring artificial floating gardens of plants, shrubs, and trees. It all coalesced to give the city a sense of enchantment on account of the great towers, houses, and temples, all built of masonry, rising from the water.
Not only was the city beautiful nearly beyond description, it was also functional. Each district had its own marketplace with tens of thousands of natives trading there daily. Bathhouses that would have made the Romans green with envy dotted the cityscape. Hastelloy had it on good authority that the natives bathed at least twice a day. Rumors claimed that Montezuma himself bathed four times daily. They practically worshiped the waters that surrounded them.
In the center of it all rose the palace of Montezuma. Its stepped pyramid design towered over the city and made the temple at Cholula look like a cottage by comparison. The massive and opulent structure was everything one would expect for a ruler of Montezuma’s stature.
In all, Tenochtitlán was home to over three hundred thousand people. That placed it in elite company as one of the largest cities in the world, matched only by Paris, Venice, and Constantinople in Europe. If he added the surrounding territories paying tribute to Montezuma, Hastelloy concluded that the Aztec emperor ruled over almost five million subjects. It was little wonder why the man refused his envoys for so long. The man ruled his known world without challenge.
As Hastelloy and his men entered the great city of Tenochtitlán, the natives lined each side along the buildings of the city’s main causeway that extended all the way to the palace. As they drew near the massive structure, the front gates opened and Montezuma himself came walking out wearing a feathered headdress that would have made even the proudest peacock wilt in shame. Accompanying the leader were two lords, one walking on either side of him. All three wore glass amulets around their necks.
Hastelloy dismounted his horse and stepped toward Montezuma who made it a point not to look at him. Hastelloy extended his hands that carried a necklace made of gold and crystal stones as a peace offering. His movement was blocked by one of the nobles.
The man spoke a few words that Doña translated, “It is forbidden to touch the divine emperor.” The man then attempted to take the necklace from Hastelloy’s hand, but that was not going to happen.
Hastelloy withdrew the offering and held it out of reach. It was time to take a page out of the Alpha’s book of tricks back in Egypt. “I am the divine. I gave the gift of the healing water that you wear around your neck.”
His declaration got Montezuma’s attention. The emperor turned his head, met Hastelloy’s eyes, and used that moment to peer deep into his soul. Montezuma displayed great concern at first but soon contorted his face into a doubtful snarl. “You lie. A god does not murder thousands of innocent people.”
“A god sees through the trap of a lesser being’s design and protects himself from those trying to ensnare him,” Hastelloy countered with an airy, emotionless tone that signaled he was above the man’s accusations.
Over the past few weeks, Hastelloy had heard hundreds of origin stories behind Montezuma’s healing powers. He was betting the retelling of one particular story for Montezuma would cause him to drop to his knees out of reverence before his living god.
“You watched me place the fountain for you to find in that tree. I even showed you the healing potential by letting that viper bite my hand and curing myself of its venom by drinking from the fountain, did I not?” Doña translated for Hastelloy with a quivering of fear entering her voice.
Doña’s voice may have wavered, but the Aztec emperor’s face ran white as a priest’s robe with sheer terror filling his once defiant eyes. Montezuma dropped to his knees and bowed until his forehead touched the ground out of respect for his god. The two nobles followed his example, as did the rest of the city in short order.
Hastelloy allowed a few moments to pass before reaching down to the emperor. He made the presumption that it was now acceptable to lay hands on Montezuma and helped him return to his feet. He then extended his offering of a necklace once more, and the emperor took it with great joy.
“I offer this gift to you in exchange for you to no longer make sacrifices of your fellow man. It is not required, and it does not please me to see it done. I give life. I do not take it or exchange one for another.”
“I shall treasure it always and wi
ll do as you command,” Montezuma replied and drew rousing cheers from the native warriors who rallied behind Hastelloy’s cause. The constant theft and sacrificing of their friends and families was their primary concern, and it was now at an end. That was cause for great celebration.
Amid the applause and cheers, Montezuma had his two noblemen remove his feathery headdress, which allowed him to put on the necklace. He then snapped his fingers twice to prompt a procession of twelve servants, each struggling to carry large storage chests in their arms, to line up in front of Hastelloy. In unison, they placed their loads on the ground and opened the lids to reveal the contents of pure gold; several hundred pounds of unrefined gold nuggets.
Hastelloy heard, and even felt, a collective gasp from his men standing behind him at the sight of so much treasure. Montezuma beamed with pride at the reaction, knowing nothing about the calamity he may have just set into motion.
“I offer you my treasure in return for the wondrous gifts you have bestowed upon me and my people.”
Hastelloy forced a pleasant smile to the surface of his body language, but inside he was in a near state of panic. He inclined his head toward the emperor, which allowed him to steal a glance behind at his soldiers and officers. All of them to a man were busy ogling the gold and whispering among one another about the potential for even more. Montezuma thought he was quenching the thirst of these men, but only succeeded in whetting their appetite.
“Please join me in my palace. We have much to celebrate,” Montezuma offered, and Hastelloy accepted.
Chapter 42: Never Tell Me the Odds
HASTELLOY AND HIS army spent the next four days living a life of excess and luxury inside Montezuma’s place of residence. With over a hundred guest rooms, each with its own bath intended for the lords and ambassadors of allies and conquered people, the palace had little difficulty accommodating all six hundred of Hastelloy’s men.
Grounds that proved most popular to the men were the two zoo areas. One featured various birds of prey while the other displayed reptiles and large jungle mammals. There was also a botanical garden and aquarium attached to Montezuma’s seat of power.
The men were beginning to grow accustomed to their lavish surroundings. More and more they began treating this place as their own, and Hastelloy feared they might never want to leave.
To his native allies, the time spent in Tenochtitlán had the opposite effect. They achieved their goal of stopping Aztec aggression and now returned to their families. Hastelloy expected some attrition but instead lost virtually all of them within a few days of their arrival at the Aztec capital.
That is why the news of another army of white men approaching hit Hastelloy with mixed feelings. It was a relief to have an excuse to get his men out of the city and away from the temptation of Montezuma’s great wealth. At the same time it was alarming that he now faced Juan’s force of two thousand musket-bearing soldiers backed by cannons with only six hundred men, fifteen horses, and a dozen cannons.
“Are these not your men?” Montezuma asked of Hastelloy when he saw concern on his face upon hearing the news.
“They are, but we don’t always get along,” Hastelloy answered. “Sort of like you and your brother who I helped you oust from power.”
“How may I help?” Montezuma asked with genuine sincerity. He was eager to please his god any way he could. “I have many warriors.”
“No, your men are not ready to fight against their weapons. I would, however, like to use your healers,” Hastelloy suggested.
Over the last few days, Hastelloy made it a point to study the structure of the Aztec military in case future conflicts arose. They functioned in squads of one hundred warriors with one medic carrying healing water for all of them to prevent the valued substance from falling into enemy hands. In addition, only the healers knew the location of the fountain. It was a tightly guarded secret kept among only a few dozen men.
The ability to heal allowed their warriors to battle much like the Novi did against the Alpha with reckless abandon. Wounds were mended almost as fast as they happened. If the Aztec army lost the ability to heal itself, or the secret location of the fountain got out, it would be a catastrophe. Hastelloy’s request was a profound favor to ask.
Montezuma considered the request in silence for what felt like an eternity. The man clearly felt obligated to help but knew the risk and considered it long and hard before answering, “You may take five of my healers with you to meet this army of other white men. Only they are allowed to carry the healing water.”
“You are most gracious, Emperor. In return, I shall leave one hundred of my men behind to protect you should this opposing force get past my men,” Hastelloy offered and received a gracious nod from Montezuma to accept the offer.
The truth was that Hastelloy needed every man he had, but he also needed to ensure Montezuma’s continued loyalty. For now, the emperor regarded Hastelloy as a god, but that would not last long. Watching him do battle with other white men would certainly draw into question the nature of his divinity. If he wanted to maintain power and authority over the replicator’s location, he would have to keep Montezuma under house arrest in his own home and rule the Aztecs through him as a puppet regime.
An added concern was the behavior of the soldiers he was leaving behind. Their amorous eyes were growing wider by the day for the wealth that Montezuma commanded. It was a risk leaving them here, but a greater one to leave no one at all.
This left Hastelloy outnumbered by Juan’s force four to one, and they were also better equipped. Just once, he would like to face Juan on an even playing field. The boy had beaten him twice already, but there would not be a third. Rumors of the healing waters had drawn Juan away from his seat of power and influence. This next encounter would be on the battlefield where Hastelloy was in his natural element. He liked his chances even if the odds looked long.
Chapter 43: Dying Motivation
“THERE,” JUAN’S NATIVE guide said as he pointed to a raised mound on the other side of the flat plains that could generously be described as a hilltop. “I told you they were heading for the only high ground in the area.”
It was not much, but it did afford the navigator’s forces a slight advantage, but that in no way made up for being outnumbered four to one. In truth, Juan did not understand the strategy. The mound backed up to a dense forest. Why not hide among the trees and take shots at Juan’s forces with quick ambushes that could disappear back into the woods as soon as they appeared? Going musket to musket with Juan’s superior numbers made no strategic sense.
The only explanation was that they were getting close. When Juan’s army did battle with the Aztecs to relieve the siege around their settlement, he saw them use healing waters, same as the navigator in London. The source of that water, the Fountain of Youth that the locals talked about, had to be near. The navigator could no longer cede ground. Now he had to stand and fight or risk losing his life-giving fountain.
The mound stood a half mile away from Juan’s forces that were still approaching in a single marching column. He pulled out his monocular to assess the situation in more detail. Two or three hundred men occupied the mound with a pair of cannons pointed straight ahead to defend against a frontal assault.
“When we get within a quarter mile, fan the men out to surround the mound in a crescent shape. That way we can assault the hilltop from three sides,” Juan said to Vasco.
“As ordered, but it will take a few hours to get the men into position,” Vasco cautioned.
Juan lowered his monocular to cast a sideways grin at Vasco. “That’s fine. We have all the time in the world, but for our immortal friend over there . . . well . . . his time on this earth is just about up.”
Just then, a commotion to Juan’s left drew his attention away from the hilltop. A row of fifteen cavalry emerged from the tree line a hundred yards away at a full charge. Each horse carried two riders. In front handling the reins was a white soldier wielding a sword, with a na
tive bowman behind him.
A few muskets fired at the charge, but it was very haphazard and ineffective. In return, arrows flew through the air and hit several soldiers standing around Juan and Vasco. The charge continued and another volley of arrows eliminated more of Juan’s protectors.
In that instant, Juan realized this was no ordinary cavalry raid. It was an attempt to decapitate the leadership of his army. More muskets discharged at random intervals before Juan shouted, “Hold your fire! Form a line and present arms.”
The men responded to their instructions in quick order. While the horses were still a hundred feet away, they now faced a wall of two hundred muskets ready to fire. It was a clever attempt by the navigator, but he misjudged badly the training and obedience of Juan’s men. This reckless charge would not succeed. “Fire!”
The smoothbore muskets were not individually accurate, but with enough of them stacked side by side, death and destruction of an enemy was ensured. The wall of lead plowed into the cavalry and did not distinguish between horse, white man, or native. Three horses collapsed and sent their riders flailing head over heels onto the ground. Musket balls hit four native archers, which flipped them off the back of their tandem, while seven soldiers dropped their reins and slid off their mounts.
As effective as the volley was, two still approached untouched. The horses hit the line and sent a dozen soldiers flying through the air while the swordsman in front cut down others as they raced past, heading straight for Juan. The archers riding behind the saddle took careful aim and fired as they raced past. One arrow grazed Juan’s shoulder without doing any harm, but the second hit him square in the thigh.
The impact sent Juan to the ground screaming in pain. “Aagh . . . shoot those bastards and then get this thing out of my leg!”
Another round of musket fire chased the riders and their wounded companions as they made a straight-line course for the hilltop. While that went on, the native guide grabbed hold of the arrow shaft and braced his other hand against Juan’s leg. “This will hurt.”
Origins: Discovery Page 25