And the siege as well proceeded according to the plan Don Fielding had outlined. The messengers to Cortes were allowed to escape. It was noted that they were Tlaxcalans rather than Spanish. Alvarado was not risking any of his precious men and, in his eyes, the Indians were expendable.
A couple of times the Spanish brought Motechzoma out onto the rooftops to order his people to stop resisting the Spanish and to return to their homes, but he was met with jeers and Alvarado gave that up.
Several times, the Spanish footmen sallied forth to try and disperse those who were tormenting them, night and day, with the arrows and slung stones, the javelins and pellets from blowguns. But the Tenochas, under instructions, melted away before them, and the casualties taken in the open were not worth the game. There was hardly a soldier now who had not at least a few wounds. Largely, they were minor, due to armor and the low quality of the Indian firepower, but over the days of combat, one by one the Spanish were losing their effectiveness.
Don Fielding had been amazed at the degree to which Cuitlahuac, the Snake-Woman, and all the rest of the Tlatocan high council had allowed him to dominate their decisions. It didn't stand up to reality. He was, although an adopted member of the Eagle clan, a stranger and, by admission, no warrior, not to speak of being a chief.
The understanding came with his confrontation of Xochitl, the high priest.
For some time now, most of the other high chiefs had no longer been calling him magician.
The crisis was upon the capture of the seventeen Spaniards who had been on the brigantines. Cuitlahuac, the new First Speaker, the Snake-Woman and Don Fielding and Cuauhtemoc, who had led the assault on the ships, were all who had been present.
Xochitl, insanity in his eyes, had been for sacrificing the white men on the pyramid of Huitzilopochtli so that the Spanish still remaining in the tecpan could witness it going on—an indication of things to come so far as their own lives were concerned.
Don said emphatically, "No!"
The head priest was furious and his mad eyes blazed. Don was beginning to realize why he was head priest: there was religious strength in insanity. But he was surprised the other had enough stability to hold down his office.
"The gods demand it!" the other screamed.
Don shook his head. "We need them to teach us the things they know."
"They must die! Their hearts!"
Cuauhtemoc looked at the priest, his face ultimately stoical, and gestured with reverence toward Don as he said, "Are you blind, so that you cannot see? His face is white, paler than any of those we thought teteuhs and now know are in truth devils. His beard, when he allows it to grow, is black, as I can witness. To mystify us, perhaps, he tells us he comes from the north, but in truth he has come from the east. He has led us in defense against the devils from across the seas. He foresees the future, correctly as all know. He can bring fire from his fingertips. It is the year One Reed. Would you fly, then, in the face of our returned Lord, Quetzalcoatl?"
Part Four
Chapter Nineteen
Donald Fielding dosed his eyes in pain. Successively, this agnostic had worn the titles of magician and priest, and now he had made the ultimate. He was being hailed a god.
The face of the high priest, Xochitl, had sagged at Cuauhtemoc's words, though by the expressions of Cuitlahuac and the Snake-Woman they had already accepted, within themselves, what the younger man had proclaimed: Don's divinity. Don Fielding was the returned god Quetzalcoatl, leader of the Toltecs who owned this area before the coming of the Tenochas. The tradition was that the god had promised to return in time of crisis and resume the leadership of the peoples.
Xochitl gaped at Don. Finally, he got out, "But he does not claim to be the god. When first Malintzin landed on the coast, we thought him to be Quetzalcoatl. We called them all teteuhs. Now we know them to be devils instead."
"I am not Quetzalcoatl, nor any other teteuh," Don said. "I am simply a man."
Cuauhtemoc's look was both friendly and tolerant. "Perhaps he does not even know it himself. The ways of the gods are strange, as all men are aware."
Don gave up. By the looks of the priest, he was undecided; nevertheless, he was taking no chances. For the time, at least, he gave up his fight to have the captured Spaniards sacrificed on the altar of Huitzilopochtli.
Cuitlahuac said respectfully, "We will continue to take your suggestions. Even if your words are correct, and as you claim, you are not the returned god—still, as a magician, if you are no more, your advice has been good and we will continue to heed it."
The Snake-Woman nodded acceptance of that.
He moved back into his room in the buildings of the Eagle clan and gave instructions for a new table and stool to be made for him. He simply couldn't think well sitting or squatting on the floor.
That night he tried to bring order to his thoughts. For the past few days he had been working as though instinctively; one development led to another. He had met each problem as it came up as best he could. But now he had to face the reality of it all.
Ever since he had been thrown into this other time, he had agonized over the question of whether or not it was possible for him to change history. Now? Now it was no longer a question; he already had changed history. And it was not in a minor way. In history, the Indians had burned those brigantines and they had sacrificed every Spaniard they caught.
Always before, he had thought the Aztecs doomed. In his era, history told him that they had gone down and that the Spanish had completely destroyed their culture and imposed their own upon Mexico. When he found himself in this time, he had accepted the fact. But now the question was upon him. Was it possible to prevent the defeat of the Indians?
He had found them more desirable as a people than the Europeans. In many respects he found their society more advanced. Certainly, their institutions were more democratic than were the feudalistic Spanish.
He had, in spite of himself, managed to build up a great deal of prestige with the Tenochas. Would it be possible to bring them from barbarism, avoiding chattel slavery and feudalism, into a more advanced society, still retaining those of their institutions that were desirable?
It came back to him now that Cuauhtemoc, or someone, had told him that the Toltec god, Quetzalcoatl, did not desire blood as Huitzilopochtli, the Tenocha god, did. So that solved that. So long as they thought him divine, there would be no more sacrifices.
He fell asleep, wondering at how much impact he could have on this age, and whether or not it was really desirable that he attempt it. Should he stand aside and let the Spanish overwhelm these people? Or even if he tried his hardest, could he help prevent it?
They were taking too many casualties. The trouble was, the Tenochas were warriors, not soldiers. They fought largely as individuals and in the heat of combat paid little attention to their chiefs. For that matter, the chief himself was more likely to be in the thickest of the fray, paying little if any attention to what his supposed followers were doing.
They would dash valiantly up to the wall of the tecpan and loose one of their inadequate javelins, an arrow, or even a stone from a sling. And the Spanish up on the walls would coolly pick them off with crossbows or arquebuses. Or if a large enough group assembled, one of the cannon would blast them down.
Don was no soldier, but he had read a great deal of history and he knew enough about warfare to realize that the Tenochas had insufficient firepower.
He had Cuauhtemoc bring the captured Spanish before him. There were twenty of them in all. Besides those captured on the brigantines, several more had been taken on Alvarado sorties. About half were wounded to one degree or the other. They were bound and well guarded. Don knew only two or three slightly.
One he knew as Gaspar Sanchez hissed at him: "Traitor!" Don had to laugh. "Traitor? Did you labor under the illusion that I was a free member of your army? I was in danger of my life every moment I was in your vicinity."
"You're a white man, yet you side with these he
athens."
"I'm a heathen myself," Don said mildly. "But let us get to the point." He looked around at them slowly. "The priests wish to sacrifice you to their gods. I imagine you've heard of the procedure. You're taken up to the altar in the temple atop the pyramid and your body is stretched across it. Four of the priests hold you, your back over the stone. Another takes a stone knife, cuts open your chest, and pulls out your heart. While you watch."
Most of them reacted as might have been expected. Brave men they undoubtedly were; concede them that, Don thought. But even a brave man does not look forward to a gruesome death.
Nevertheless, one cool-looking redhead spat on the ground in a demonstration that his mouth was not dry at the contemplation of his fate. He said, "Well, why do we not get around to it? By my Lady, it grows wearisome trussed up in the temple dungeon."
Don looked at him. "Because I talked them out of it."
Silence fell over the twenty.
Don said, "It was not easy, particularly after your massacre of the unarmed dancers."
"Pedro de Alvarado was informed that they planned an uprising, a revolt," one said.
"As men who call themselves soldiers—and Spanish gentlemen—one might have expected you to wait until such a revolt materialized, until you were confronted with an armed army. However, that is not the point. The point is that I have saved your lives, and they will continue to be in no danger, if you pay my price."
Sanchez said, "What price? On my soul, it is obvious that we have not an ounce of gold among us."
"In the fighting we have captured various weapons, especially on the ships. We have cannon, arquebuses, crossbows, swords, and pikes. It is not convenient to use the cannon at this time, and we have not the time to learn the correct use of the sword. However, we wish you to teach us to use the matchlocks and the crossbows. The brigantines were well stocked with powder, shot, and crossbow quarrels."
"Are you mad?" said one that Don recognized as Bartolome Garcia by name.
"No. Let me finish. Any who so assist us will not only be granted his freedom when the war is ended but will be awarded with fifty pesos of gold." In actuality, Don Fielding did not know what fifty pesos of gold was worth in the Spain of this age, but he knew it was a fortune.
They goggled at him.
Finally, one rasped, "We are not traitors to our Captain-General, our Emperor, and our Lord Jesus."
"Well spoken," Don said, nodding. "Does anyone disagree? If you were released and rejoined your comrades, do you believe that any of you would wind up the war with that much gold, or would the Emperor, Cortes, his captains, and the other high-placed confiscate it all, or almost all?" Most of them glared at him.
One of them rasped, "And if we do not accept your offer, we are to suppose it is the sacrificial altar?"
Don looked at him coolly.
Another said, "And how do we know you will keep your word? These Indians are treacherous savages."
Don said, "It is a strange statement to come from the lips of men who participated in the slaughters of Cholula and here in Tenochtitlan against unarmed men who had not bothered you. However, my name is Don Fielding. I am an hidalgo in my own land. I do not lie and I pledge you my word."
They still remained silent, although there were furtive glances at each other.
Don said, "Very well. You will be placed in separate rooms, one man to a room. Each will have a guard posted at the door. If any one of you wishes to speak to me secretly, alone, and in such manner that your fellows need never know, unless they assume the same position, you need only say so to the guard and he will bring you to me."
He sent them off.
Cuauhtemoc had gone through all this in silence, standing off to one side. He said now, "What did you say to them?"
Don told him.
The other shook his head. "None will accept your offer. I do not admire the teteuhs—the Spanish—but they are brave warriors."
"That they are, but they are also sixteenth-century Spaniards. Their real god is yellow metal."
All twenty were recruited. When they saw each other, there was a certain moment of shamefacedness, but they were all there. Don sent for the captured weapons.
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!"
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