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Copyright 2011 by Michael Wynne
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Foreword
TIERRA!" (Land Ho!) was the cry heard round the world on October 12, 1492 heralding
the discovery of a new world. The old world of Europe awoke to the prospect of new
lands to be explored - and exploited. Spain, the sponsor of Columbus‘s successful
expedition, was the first nation to respond to the challenge of this unknown and untapped
potential
"ORO" (Gold!) was the cry that mobilized Spaniards of every social level and condition,
from pig herder to emperor, to bankrupt themselves if necessary to mount expeditions in
pursuit of fabulous riches. "ORO!" was the cry that inspired men to cross the dangerous
seas and march incredible distances through some of the world's worst jungles
performing amazing deeds of courage and cruelty.
"ORO" brought fear, slavery, disease and the destruction of their culture to the
unsuspecting owners of the ―Sweat of the Gods‖ as they called gold.. The natives of the
new lands could not understand the white man's passion for this metal, gift of the sun
god. They soon learned how much he was willing to sacrifice to obtain it. They also
learned how much it was to cost both white man and native to find and keep it.
"ORO" In the end it seems to have brought short-lived glory to a few, and happiness to
none. But, without its lure, it is probable that few would have been willing to pay the price
in their own sweat and blood to explore and conquer the lands of the New World.
―ORO” is the story of the gold of the gods of the New World, and of the struggle and
adventures of those who suffered and fought for it. "ORO!" is the story of Columbus who
dreamt of glory but was obsessed with gold, and was brought down in great part because
of his inability to deliver promised riches. It is the story of Cortes, a mostly unsuccessful
clerk who gained immortality and wealth at the expense of Motecozuma and his Aztec
Empire.
"ORO" is the story of Albar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca who started out to explore Florida,
and ended up walking from Texas to California over a period of seven years. Along the
way, the legend of the Seven Gold Cities of Cibola was created.
"ORO" is the story of Francisco Pizarro, the illiterate pig herder who conquered Peru with
only 400 men, destroyed the Inca Empire and filled the coffers of the Spanish emperor
with Cuzco gold.
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"ORO" is the story of Gonzalo Jimenez de Quesada, a lawyer graduated from the
University of Salamanca, who fought Jungle, swamps, swollen rivers, poisoned arrows,
jaguars, alligators, malaria, and despair to reach the kingdom of El Dorado. It is also the
story of his heir, Antonio de Berrio, a professional soldier and mercenary who began his
search for El Dorado after his fiftieth birthday, and continued to lead expeditions into the
jungle until he was well into his seventies.
In the process, he set in motion a series of events that would eventually lead to the
beheading of Sir Walter Raleigh."ORO" is the story of the gold fleets that started in Peru,
unloaded their riches in Panama for transportation across the isthmus, first to Nombre de
Dios and later to Portobello where it was once again embarked for the voyage back to
Spain. It is the story of the fate of the men and ships that carried the gold of the gods,
and of the revenge exacted by the gods in the form of hurricanes, reefs, and pirates.
"ORO" is the story of the search for the Sweat of the Gods throughout different parts of
South and North America. It is the story of the greed, torture, and treachery that left none
of its seekers untouched. It is also the story of a legacy that is still shaping the world we
live in today.
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Oro
Gold of the Americas
Table of Contents.
Chapter

Introduction
Page
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1. In Pursuit of Legends, Trade and Glory
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2. Spain, The Breeder of Conquistadors.
30
3. The Fateful Year of 1492. A Taste of Gold.
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4. Aztec Gold.
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5. The Seven Gold Cities of Cibola.
256
6. Inca Gold.
299
7. El Dorado Gold.
365
8. El Dorado. The Legend Grows
. 413
9. The Gold Fleet.
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10. The Legacy of Gold.
500
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Introduction
“Gold is a wonderful thing! Whoever possesses it
is master of everything he desires. With gold
one can even get souls into heaven.”
Christopher Columbus
Tierra!
―Tierra!‖ (―Land!‖) was the cry heard round the world from the lookout on the Crow‘s Nest
of the Niña on that fateful predawn of October 12, 1492. Perhaps the lookout should
have cried out ―Oro!‖ the Spanish word for gold. The Spaniards may have been seeking
land with their eyes, but what they sought in their hearts was Gold.
Gold is indeed a wonderful thing because of the dreams it can inspire. It is a powerful
thing that can drive human beings to great accomplishments. But it is also a power that
fuels greed and can temptation that can bring out the worst in us.
Yet gold is nothing more than a bright, yellow, shiny metal that has no intrinsic value. To
satisfy human greed it must be worked into ingots or jewelry, or traded for other things of
value such as luxury, safety, and political power.
But gold, or the lust for it, also defined the destinies of Spain and the Americas. Had it
not been for gold and its promise of luxury and power, Columbus would never have
ventured forth on his voyage of discovery. Had it not been for the Spaniards‘ gold lust,
millions might not have died in a terrible genocide that decimated the native populations
of the Americas.
The natives of the Americas called gold ―Sweat of the Gods.‖ They could never have
imagined that the shiny yellow metal would ultimately bring them tears, enslavement,
disease, and devastation. The story of the discovery, exploration, and conquest of the
Americas is the story of Gold and its power to drive men to extremes of great courage
and unimaginable cruelty. The pursuit of the gold of the Americas changed the world.
That pursuit created the world we live in today.
Destiny
My fascination with the history of the exploration and conquest of the New World began
as a child. My awareness of the link with gold came later. I first traveled to Latin America
as a child of 11 when my parents moved from New York to Colombia. In February of
1942, we sailed from New Orleans on an Argentine freighter/passenger ship to the
Colombian port of Barranquilla, at the mouth of the Magdalena River.
My mother and my two sisters continued on by air to the capital, Bogotá. My father and I
journeyed by steamboat up the Jungle River. When we arrived at the riverbank, the
steamboat was anchored alongside a muddy embankment. The old sternwheeler looked
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like it had just steamed right out of a movie of a Civil War movie. Walking up the
gangway, I had no idea I was embarking on an adventure that would last a lifetime. I
didn‘t know that Destiny was leading me to write this book.
The River
Two blasts of the whistle, and the ship began to pull away from the shore as a. band on
the lower deck played Latin music. Within minutes we had moved beyond the city.
Suddenly the shores on both sides of the river were covered with dense jungle growth.
It was the middle of the dry season, and the river waters were low. The steamboat
navigated carefully around sandbars and sunken tree trunks as we slowly steamed
upriver trailing a plume of black smoke. With memories of Tarzan movies flashing
through my mind, I half-expected to see Johnny Weismuller swinging from tree to tree.
You can imagine my excitement when I saw real alligators basking in the hot sun along
the muddy banks of the river.
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The following days were filled with scenes of giant blue butterflies, flocks of screeching
parakeets and beautiful macaws flying above the tree tops. One memorable early dawn
(who could sleep late with so much to see), after a night of violent tropical storms, I saw a
sorry-looking family of rain-soaked monkeys huddling together on the branch of a large
tree. They looked like the embodiment of ―See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.‖
Early every morning the ship‘s cook would venture out onto a barge that the steamer was
pushing from the bow. There were several wooden cages on the barge with cattle in
them. I didn‘t realize that they were our meat supply for the journey. The steamboat was
not equipped with large refrigerators. With the help of other crewmen, the cook would
raise the door of a cage. As the bull stuck its head forward, the cook slit its throat. Within
minutes, the bull would be converted into the beef we ate at breakfast (they served steak
with your eggs) and throughout that day.
One day, we saw a huge snake swimming across the river. When it swam alongside,
the crew feared the snake might try to board the ship. So they chased it away by
bombarding it with firewood. On another occasion, two natives in a large dugout pulled
up alongside. In the bottom of the dugout was a six-foot long tiger-striped catfish (they
called it Bagre) they sold to the cook; that was lunch that day.
Hooked on History
As the only boy on board, I was allowed certain liberties denied to adults. My endless
curiosity was accepted and tolerated by the crew as I roamed all over the ship poking and
peering into corners and asking questions. I was even allowed on to the bridge where I
met the Captain. A portly, dark skinned man, with a shiny gold tooth at the front of his
mouth, the Captain spoke little English and I spoke no Spanish. Nevertheless, we got
along famously. As we sailed by points of historical interest, in his broken English, he
would tell me exciting stories of La Conquista, The Conquest. In fascinating detail he
described the terrible battles between the fierce natives and the brave but cruel
Spaniards. By the end of the trip I was hooked on the history of La Conquista.
Because of the dry season and the need to navigate around so many shoals and
sandbanks, what was supposed to be only a five to six day trip took eight days. We
finally arrived at Puerto Salgar, the end of the river boat travel, on a Sunday morning.
After saying goodbye to the Captain, we spent the night at a local hotel (really too
pompous a name for that particular facility). The next day, we boarded a steam-engine
train that took us over jungle-covered mountains until we finally reached Bogota, 8,600
feet above sea level.
The adventure had only begun; the excitement of history never went away. Later, after
learning Spanish, I heard and then read the stories and legends about the native tribes
and the ruthless Spaniards who came and conquered this colorful world. Fate conspired
to bring me back to Latin America time and again in the decades that followed. In time, I
visited every country south of the Rio Grande, and eventually lived in several of them.
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The Gold Trail
Old Panama
The flames of my interest were stirred again when I was stationed for four years at
Albrook Air Force Base in the Panama Canal Zone. I visited the ruins of Old Panama
destroyed during a raid by Sir Francis Drake. I was surprised to discover that Drake
hadn‘t burnt the city. It seems the Spaniards set fire to a few key buildings to deny them
to Drake, but the flames got out of hand and destroyed most of the city.
Researching the history of the isthmus, I learned that during the 16th and 17th centuries,
gold, silver, emeralds, and other treasures were brought to Panama from Peru and other
countries bordering the Pacific Ocean. From there, the riches traveled by mule train
across the isthmus to the Atlantic port of Nombre de Dios. There, a fleet of well-guarded
ships known as the Gold Fleet, picked up the treasure for transport to Spain.
The flow of so much wealth across the Panamanian jungle trail attracted buccaneers,
pirates, privateers, and bands of robbers. Drake and Morgan raided Panama and carried
away fortunes in booty. Centuries later, Spanish doubloons could still be found along the
sides of the trail followed by the mule trains.
Excited by the possibility, however remote, of finding an authentic Spanish doubloon or
some other historic memento, a friend and I decided to locate the old trail, now buried
under centuries of dirt and vegetation.
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We researched local libraries for information about the trail, and also talked with people
who claimed to know where it was. Surprisingly, the information turned out to be quite
accurate. Equipped with machetes and other jungle survival paraphernalia, we began
our exploration.
We rode in what the locals called a Chiva (Spanish for ―Female Goat‖), a rickety, garishly
painted, bus that made the one in the movie Romancing the Stone look modern. It
dropped us off at the location where the trail was supposed to have been. Obviously, the
trail was no longer visible. Probing the ground with a machete we found the buried
cobblestones that paved the original trail. Following the trail, we penetrated deeper into
the bush. We soon felt the oppressive, suffocating heat and humidity that had tormented
explorers, conquistadors, and raiders alike.
The stench of rotting vegetation was overwhelming. Sweat streamed out of our every
pore. Seeping into our eyes it made them burn. Our sweat-soaked clothing stuck
uncomfortably to our skin. The damp, heavy air was hard to breathe. Panting and
cursing, we swatted at insects that swarmed around us getting into our hair, eyes, and
nostrils.
As we hacked our way through the jungle growth, I thought of Balboa. How he and his
men must have suffered during their terrible trek across the isthmus to that mountain
peak where he first saw the Pacific Ocean. We wore lightweight military fatigues; they
wore armor. To this day, I am still in awe of the strength, courage, and endurance of the
Spanish conquistadors. They weren‘t very enlightened men by our standards, but they
were tough.
I thought of Gonzalo Jimenez de Quesada. He was the longest lived, and perhaps the
smartest of the conquistadors. Jimenez de Quesada kept his men going during their
incredible journey of several months through the Colombian jungles and swamps, all the
way from the Atlantic shore to the land of Bochica and Bacatá, which we now know as
Bogota, a distance of some 500 miles.
I could even feel sympathy for mad Lope de Aguirre. Searching for El Dorado, he
crossed the Peruvian Andes with his men and his daughter, and then rafted down the
Amazon River to the Atlantic Ocean. From there, he sailed up the East Coast and then
the northern shore of South America all the way to the mouth of the Magdalena River in
Colombia. Just the thought of the obstacles he and his men must have faced on that trip
is intimidating.
I thought of tenacious Antonio de Berrio who led his first expedition into the Venezuelan
jungles in search of El Dorado when he was in his late fifties. De Berrio continued to
lead expeditions until he was in his seventies, and finally disappeared into the jungle
never to be heard from again.
A year before our adventure along the Gold Trail, the Air Force sent me to jungle survival
training. There, I learned how resourceful the jungle can be -- if you know where to find
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food and water. Even with training and the advantage of modern equipment, the jungle is
still terribly demanding. Under the best of circumstances, you barely survive over short
periods.
The mind-numbing sweaty heat of the day is replaced by damp cold in the evening. It is
not uncommon to shiver in the jungle night - whether from fever, a drop in temperature, or
just plain fear. The impenetrable darkness is full of noises, loud and soft, real and
imagined, and all frightening. Strange animal calls pierce the night, bushes rustle, and
slithering sounds wreak havoc with your imagination.
Thanks to survival training, I had the advantage of learning from the experience others
had accumulated over hundreds of years. The Spanish explorers and conquistadors had
to learn those lessons the hard way. They suffered terribly, and many died in horrible
ways. My admiration for these hardy men grew as we trudged along that ancient jungle
path. I marveled at their ability to overcome the discomfort, fatigue, fear and depression
that the jungle imposes upon those who venture into it...
After several miles, the buried cobblestones disappeared. We lost the trail. For a few
frightening minutes, we also lost our bearings. We knew how difficult it would be for a
rescue party to find us if we got lost. Eventually, we were able to retrace our steps. We
found no doubloons, but did come across some very old bottles of blown glass probably
dropped along the way by thirsty travelers a couple of centuries earlier.
A Passion for History
History is like a murder mistery; once into it – you‘re hooked. The more you learn, the
more you want to know. One insight leads to another, and you find yourself reading
about things you never thought of before. Research on the history of the isthmus led to
reading about pirates and privateers, the voyages of discovery, the Spanish conquest,
navigation, shipbuilding, the splendid pre-historic native cultures, the history of Spain
itself, and many more related subjects.
Soon, I found myself journeying to other places of historic moment in other Latin
American countries and, finally, to Spain - the source of the extraordinary men who left
their imprint upon the New World. I developed a passion for the rich language and
culture that bred those men. That passion has enriched my life in endless ways.
The Power of Gold
As the history of the Spanish exploration and conquest of the Americas unfolded, a
common thread appeared - the pursuit of gold. Starting with Columbus, the initial drive to
discover and explore new lands was spurred by the desire to find wealth.
Gold has always symbolized wealth. Since the earliest days of civilization, men and
women have dreamt of gold's power and pleasure. Gold has a power and beauty all its
own. For some, just owning it generates limitless satisfaction. The greed in every soul is
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titillated by touching and feeling it. If a man owns enough gold, he can guard against fear,
want, hunger, and weakness. Enough gold will overcome homeliness, boorishness and,
for short periods, even stupidity.
To the men and women of that period, gold represented all this and more. Gold and its
traditions were much more a part of their daily lives than of ours. They grew up on tales
and legends of fortunes in gold coins and jewelry gained through outstanding deeds of
daring and courage (seldom by just plain hard work which seemed to not be the stuff that
such dreams were made of). The aristocrats and the rich did enviable things with gold,
and then buried it before they died. Later, according to popular beliefs of the time, their
tormented souls returned to haunt the places where they had buried their riches. Thus
they enabled some deserving and daring young person to become suddenly wealthy by
finding those hidden riches.
Gold represented the means to escaping lives of hopeless poverty. Alchemists searched
for the philosopher's stone, which would turn common metals into gold. Gold was
mysterious and magical; it was called ―the metal of the sun.‖ Learned men believed great
amounts of gold would be found near the equator because of its nearness to the sun.
Native Americans did not attribute the same power and value to gold as did the
Europeans. They called it Sweat of the Sun, but only valued its decorative qualities. The
Europeans' obsession with gold frightened and angered them. When Balboa‘s men
received a gift of four thousand ounces of gold from the Cacique (chief) Comaco, they fell
to squabbling and arguing over shares and weighing methods. Disgusted by this display
of greed, the Cacique's son chastised them. In so doing, he revealed the whereabouts of
the Pacific Ocean.
Pedro Martir (who may have been an Englishman by the name of Peter Martyr),
chronicler of these events, quotes the words of the Panamanian Cacique's son:
―What is the matter with you Christian men, that you so greatly esteem so little portions of
gold more than your own quietness? If your hunger of gold be so insatiable that only for
the desire you have thereto, you so disquiet so many nations, I will show you a region
flowing with gold where you may satisfy your ravening appetites. When you are passing
over these mountains (pointing with his finger toward the south) you shall see another
sea where they sail with ships as big as yours, using both sails and oars as you do,
although the men be as naked as we are."
These words were not lost on Balboa; he immediately mounted an expedition to find this
sea where so much gold flowed.
The search for gold had far reaching consequences. Lands were quickly explored that
might have remained unknown for centuries. Who in his right mind would want to endure
such terrible hardships just to see what lay on the other side of a jungle? Vast
extensions of land and sea were brought under the rule of Spain; in turn, this demanded
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of the Spanish crown that the new territories be governed. New forms of government had
to be developed and managed from great distances.
Europe gave America its culture, religion, government, the wheel, horses, cattle, poultry, and smallpox. America gave Europe gold, silver, emeralds, potatoes, fruits, quinine and syphilis. The discovery, exploration, and conquest of the New World broke the
historical chains that bound Europe to the Mediterranean, and transferred power and
influence to the nations bordering on the Ocean Sea, the Atlantic.
Much of North America was discovered and explored by Spaniards searching for the
legendary Seven Gold Cities of Cibola. The search was triggered by stories told by
Estebanico, a black slave who lived among the natives of the Southwest for seven years.
Estebanico‘s tall tales led Francisco Vasquez de Coronado to explore Arizona and New
Mexico, and opened up the Southwest to colonization. In the process of looking for the
fabled cities, Hernando de Soto explored much of the American Southeast and part of the
Southwest; but he is most remembered for discovering the Mississippi River.
The gold of the ancient gods of the New World helped buy the crown of Holy Roman
Emperor for Charles I of Spain (later known as Emperor Charles V). Three European
kings placed bids for the crown, Francis I of France, Henry VIII of England, and Charles I
of Spain. The crown had been vacated by the death of Austrian emperor Maximilian
(who was also Charles' grandfather). Upon the emperor's death, the selection of a new
emperor was made by an election in which only the elector princes of Germany and
Austria could vote.
In some ways, sixteenth century elections were not too different from many modern ones
in that votes were often bought by the highest bidder. Francis I of France offered one
million florins, the highest bid - but could not deliver. Henry VIII of England sent Cardinal
Wolsey to investigate the matter and represent him in the bidding. Wolsey saw that the
stakes were beyond the English monarch‘s economic resources, and suggested Henry
forget the whole thing.
Charles V bought the election for 852,000 florins. He financed the purchase through the
Swiss banking houses of Fugger and Welser. In turn, one of the Fuggers got to marry
one of Charles' relations, and the Welsers received the rights to explore Venezuela and
adjacent areas. In the end, the price of the title of Emperor was paid with gold, gold that
was bought with the lives of thousands of natives.
Aztec Gold
Soon after the daring Hernan Cortes arrived in the Aztec capital city of Tenochtitlan, now
known as Mexico City, he plundered the fabulous treasures of Motecuzoma
(Montezuma). He then received news that Panfilo de Narvaez had disembarked at
Veracruz. De Narvaez had orders from Governor Velasquez of Cuba to arrest Cortés
and return him to Cuba for trial. Unwilling to give up his hard-earned gains, Cortés
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divided his force, and marched quickly with half his troops to confront Narvaez. He left
the other half to guard Motecuzoma‘s treasure, and retain control of Tenochtitlan.
In Cortes‘ absence, the Aztecs rose up under the leadership of Motecuzoma‘s son in law,
Cuauhtemoc. During the uprising, Motecuzoma is said to have been killed by his own
people.
After resolving his problems with Narvaez in a battle where Spaniard fought Spaniard for
the gold of Mexico, Cortés countermarched to Tenochtitlan to relieve the Spanish
garrison. Besieged by the Aztecs, Cortés was forced to abandon the city during what
became known as ―La Noche Triste‖, The Sad Night. Attempting to sneak out at night,
Cortés and his troops were discovered by the Aztecs. The Spanish retreat turned into a
disastrous route. Cortés barely made it out of Tenochtitlan, and suffered heavy losses
along the way.
After rebuilding his forces, Cortés returned and laid siege to the city. The Aztecs put up a
fierce resistance. Cortes filled in many of the canals that surrounded the city. Then, he
used his artillery to destroy the beautiful Aztec capital one block at a time.
Gold was the motive for the conquest of Mexico. It also became the instrument that led
to the destruction of an entire culture. The Spanish soldiers and their priests were
revolted by the Aztec‘s mass human sacrifices to their gods. Wherever possible, they
destroyed Aztec temples and often converted them into Christian churches.
In all of Mexico there stands but a single monument to the man who conquered that
country for Spain; it is at a remote location near the foot of the volcano Popocatepetl. On
the other hand, there is a very prominent statue of Cuauhtemoc, Motecuzoma‘s valiant
son in law who led the rebellion against Cortés, along Paseo de La Reforma in the heart
of modern Mexico City. Although Spanish became the language of Mexico and
Catholicism its religion, among the Mexican people there is a sense of loss of something
very valuable in the culture that was sacrificed to the conqueror's lust for gold.
Gold of the Incas.
Gold also destroyed the Inca Empire. Francisco Pizarro, with incredible audacity and
luck, overwhelmed the entire Inca nation with only 400 men. He exacted a ransom from
the great Inca, Atahualpa, then killed him anyway. The gold of the Incas went to finance
the Emperor Charles V's political and military adventures in Europe. Pizarro was
murdered by his own men, but not before the Inca Empire had been dismantled and the
once proud Incas had become subjects of the emperor of Spain. In one sense Pizarro
fared better than Cortes; there is a statue of him in downtown Lima.
Pirates.
Gold increases its value by moving from one place to another. The gold of the old gods
of the New World came to serve the new gods of the Old World. Thus the Gold Fleet
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came into existence. It visited the key ports of the new lands collecting the "King's Fifth"
of all treasure. By law, the king was entitled to one fifth of everything the explorers found.
The very existence of the Gold Fleet created another industry, Piracy.
Finding treasure was one thing; getting it safely to its destination was quite another. The
logistics of the movement of wealth have always been precarious. The great distance
between Europe and the Caribbean just added to the risk. The seas are difficult to
monitor; vessels can travel great distances without being spotted, and even today can
disappear without trace. But the seas have corridors where vessels must pass to get to
certain destinations, straits between islands, and passages between land points that
make it possible to plan interceptions.
Order requires regularity; the movement of the treasures of the New World had to be
planned to take place at definite times along established routes. Predictability is both
strength and a weakness. As a strength, it enables planners to achieve efficiencies. As
a weakness, it allows others to find the flaws in the system. Predictability relies on the
transmission of information. But information can be intercepted by the wrong parties.
It was precisely the interception of a Spanish vessel by an English ship that gave Sir
Walter Raleigh information describing the possible whereabouts of El Dorado.
Eventually, Raleigh led two unsuccessful expeditions in search of El Dorado, and paid for
his failure to find it with his head
Knowledge of the Spanish logistics of gold, combined with audacity and bravery gave
Francis Drake an advantage in his raids along the Spanish Main. Eventually, he too
became predictable and the Spanish learned how to defeat him. Operating out of
English ports, Drake had to make long journeys before he could find his prey. A century
later, Henry Morgan simplified the process by carrying out his raids from Caribbean
bases. Both of these raiders were knighted by the English crown for their feats.
The English called themselves Privateers; the Spanish called them Pirates. One man's
Privateer is another's Pirate. The Spanish have a saying: "Para el que roba a un ladron,
cien años de perdon", or "He who steals from a thief earns a hundred years of pardon".
Not that the English felt that they needed justification for raiding Spanish vessels and
settlements. They saw themselves as taking from those who took from the natives.
Taking from a taker does not necessarily protect one from other takers; in time, privateers
and pirates from France and Holland joined the fray and all took from all. The source
was always the same - the natives. It was their wealth and property that these
Europeans fought over.
Today.
In many cases, the golden treasure ended up on the bottom of the sea where it still
tempts adventurers to risk all in search of it. The recent success of Mel Fisher's efforts to
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find the sunken treasures of the Nuestra Señora de Atocha have encouraged many more
ventures to search for other treasure wrecks.
Treasure of a different kind is again being moved from the former Spanish colonies to
different parts of the hemisphere and the world. Today's drug traffickers operate in the
same theater as did the pirates of old. They have demonstrated equal rapacity and
cruelty in their dealings. The driving motivation is the same as it was 400 years ago;
wealth. The price often is the same - death. Today, however, the victims are at both
ends of the supply line.
The process begun in 1492 has not yet ended. The events that took place during the
height of the search for the gold of the gods are still affecting the world. The cultures and
political instability of the Latin American nations can be traced back to the flaws in the
Spanish political system itself, and even the Moorish heritage in Spain.
Writing the Story of Gold.
As I began to write this book, it became apparent to me that the events of 1492 were
closely related to the preceding two thousand years of Spanish history. Without some
knowledge of that background, it would be difficult to put the events of 1492 and
subsequent centuries in perspective. As a result, I decided to include a chapter on the
history of Spain up to 1492. The chapter is titled: ―Spain, breeder of Conquistadors."
The problems raised by the Spanish destruction of the cultures of the Americas
have not been solved by the imposition of European culture on a native base. The
patterns of rule and exploitation of the many by the few still repeat themselves throughout
the hemisphere. We, in the United States, are not immune to this ongoing process. The
vast numbers of impoverished descendants of the original native cultures to the South
will inevitably continue to look to this country as a source of relief from their hopeless
economic situations. The influence of the Spanish-speaking immigrants to this country
will change many of our traditional ways.
From 1492 to today, the search for the gold of the gods has changed the world. If the fall
of Constantinople ended the medieval period, the search for gold in the New World put in
motion dynamic forces with far reaching effects. Gold was the lure that opened up the
Americas, but it was the amazing men who came in search of it and their actions that
changed their world and ours. The consequences are still being measured, and our
generation has not finished living through them. Those actions and consequences are as
much the focus of this book as the gold that sponsored them.
This book also looks to share with others the excitement of one of mankind's greatest
and most astounding adventures. It hopes to return to light events often forgotten or
seen only in passing that were and are important to those of us who live in the lands
where they took place. The Spanish influence upon our hemisphere is greater today than
ever and will continue to grow. Our Spanish heritage is a proud one. The Spanish were -
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and are - a magnificent, colorful and exciting people. Their descendants have enriched
our lives with their music, dance, literature, clothing, architecture, food, and language.
Our language is indebted to Spanish for many of the words we still use such as lasso,
ranch, mustang, rodeo, and many others. My own life has been wonderfully enriched by
the exposure to Spanish and Latin American cultures. This book is my recognition of that
debt of gratitude.
I must also express my appreciation to my wife, Tulita, who so valiantly put up with my
need to visit every location, read every book and learn every detail related to the writing
of this book. Very special thanks to my children, Michael and Maria, for climbing the
pyramids at Teotihuacan and Chichen Itza with me. An extra vote of thanks to my son for
his great advice and thoughts as he read many sections of the manuscript. Thanks also
to my mother for patiently wading through the many stages of the first draft and steadily
encouraging me get on to the next one. I must also acknowledge the excited generosity
of Doctor Leopoldo Lascarro, my wonderful brother in law, who not only shared much of
his personal library with me but also gave of his time and medical expertise. And last, but
definitely not least, to my friend Norman Guess, many thanks for his thoughtful and
generous input.
19
Chapter One
In Pursuit Of Legends, Trade, and Glory.
20
Chapter One
In Pursuit Of Legends, Trade, and Glory.
Legends inspire men to accomplish great deeds. Trade motivates them to try. Glory is
the cloth in which they wrap their successes.
Legends about the wealth of the Orient flourished in Medieval Europe, and encouraged
the daring to explore by land and by sea. There were also legends about mysterious
islands to the west. The mythical island of Antilia even appears on some maps prior to
1492. Tales of the Norsemen and their experiences in Vinland were not unknown to
mariners of other nations. It is believed that English and Portuguese fishermen had
already fished the banks off of Newfoundland before Columbus' voyage of discovery.
According to another claim, Saint Brendan may have conducted a shipload of Irish monks
to the New World during the sixth century
The Portuguese, hardy mariners, had already accumulated a wealth of knowledge about
the winds and currents to the west of Europe. Some claim that as early as 1472, a
Portuguese mariner, Joao Vaz Corte-Real, may have discovered America.
According to another claim, Saint Brendan may have conducted a shipload of Irish monks
to the New World during the sixth century. Contacts between Europe and the New World
may have initiated at the time of another sea-faring race, the Phoenicians. In addition to
their sailing skills, the Phoenicians and the Portuguese had one thing in common: they
were very close-mouthed about their discoveries -- trade routes were the essence of
competitive advantage.
There is a strange synergism between European legends of lands to the west and the
legends of the native Americans about fair-haired, bearded, white men who came from
afar. The study of these legends raises intriguing questions for which there are no
answers, only speculation. For example, there is the curious uniformity of some of these
legends among peoples who were separated by great distances and often did not know
of each other's existence. Viracocha, creator of the universe of the Incas, was a bearded
white man. So were Kukulkan the white god of the Mayas, Quetzalcoatl the bearded god
of the Aztecs, and Bochica, the bearded white god of Colombia‘s Chibchas. Each of
these legendary figures brought civilization to the native Americans, and taught them how
to farm and grow corn.
Who were these bearded deities who taught men how to farm, and where did they come
from? Did they really exist? Were they many men or just one and, if so, how did he or
they manage to voyage to so many different and distant places at about the same time?
With or without answers, the fact is that these legends did influence actual events.
21
When Cortes arrived in Mexico, Motecozuma wondered if he might be the returning
Quetzalcoatl. Cortes and his men were referred to as "Teules", the Aztec word for gods.
When the Spaniards arrived in Peru, they were referred to as Viracochas. In each case,
the defenders hesitated before deciding to combat the bearded white men, lest they turn
out to be gods who might punish them for their temerity. Had it not been for these
legends about bearded white gods, the natives of the New World might have adopted a
far more aggressive posture regarding the Spanish invaders.
The Golden One.
A generation before Columbus‘s arrival in the New World, a young man transformed
himself into a living gold statue. As part of a ritual, he covered his body with gold dust,
and then plunged into the icy waters of a volcanic lake in the Colombian Andes. Thus
began the legend of El Dorado, the Golden One. In the centuries that followed,
thousands of men would risk and lose their lives in pursuit of the treasure of El Dorado.
The ceremony of the Golden One began earlier that morning in the village of Guatavita, a
few miles from the lake. The whole tribe joined a procession headed by their young chief
and several priests. In the cold predawn darkness of the Andes, they came bearing
offerings of flowers, fruits, vegetables, gold figurines, and ornaments.
Native legends tell of the young wife of an earlier cacique who, accused by her husband
of infidelity, took her young daughter and ran to the lake where she and her child
drowned. When the cacique heard of this, he sent divers to look for them. The divers
returned saying they had seen the woman in the depths sitting with her daughter- in the
lap of a dragon that inhabited the waters of the lake. The ceremony of the Golden One
was meant to appease the dragon and the spirits of the woman and her child.
The original village of Guatavita, now hidden beneath a manmade lake, is 8,600 feet
above sea level. Mornings are cold in the Andes where altitude offsets tropical warmth.
During the dry season, it is not unusual for the temperature to drop to freezing. At dawn,
the fields are often glazed with frost, and glisten in the morning sunlight.
Natives of the high Andes are physically different from their warm climate counterparts.
Short and stocky, they tend to develop large thoracic capacity to breathe the thin
mountain air. A hardy, stoic people they tolerate the altitude and cold well. The sun's
rays are stronger at these altitudes, and burn the skin quickly. Native children, born and
raised in the high Andes, have deep tans, rosy cheeks, and big, bright shiny dark eyes
offset by beautiful white smiles.
22
Lake Guatavita Where the Legend
of El Dorado (the Golden One) Began
Almost perfectly round,Lake Guatavita lies about 300 feet down from the edge of the
crater of the extinct volcano. The lake‘s water is emerald green, terribly cold, and quite
deep. The climb to the lake is a steep one. To the natives of Guatavita, accustomed to
trekking along mountain paths, this was just another stroll. The effort, however, was
enough to work up a sweat and offset the morning chill. Arriving at the lake just as the
sun rose over the surrounding mountain peaks, the villagers spread out in opposite
directions along the shoreline. This is not easy to do; the slope of the crater wall around
the lake is very steep, and it is hard to find one‘s footing. As they spread out along the
lake, the natives carried two ropes that spanned the width of the lake. Where the ropes
intersected, that was the center of the lake, a fact of importance to the ceremony.
The morning mist still hung over the water as the gifts were loaded onto a raft. The
young Cacique, the priests boarded the raft and rowed to the center of the lake. There,
the priests gave the order for all the members of the tribe to turn their backs on the lake.
They were not allowed to witness the sacred ritual.
Assisted by the priests, the Cacique removed his ceremonial vestments and anointed his
hair, face, and body with sacred unguents. Then, with great care, a layer of gold dust
was applied over every inch of his body until he was completely transformed into a
golden offering. Reciting special prayers, the Cacique and the priests gently eased each
of the offerings into the waters of the lake. The last offering was El Dorado, the Golden
One himself. A symbolic offering, the young man dove into the icy waters. He stayed
only long enough to remove the goId dust, and then reboarded the raft. Then, the young
23
Cacique and priests returned to shore. The tribe marched back to the village satisfied
that the gods were placated and the crops assured. The ceremony of El Dorado was
over, but the legend was born. A chain of events was unleashed that would bring fame,
wealth, and glory to some, and suffering and death to many.
Legends and the Pursuit of Plunder.
The legend of El Dorado is only one of many that have inspired men to risk life and
fortune in the pursuit of gold. Although triggered by religious fervor, the legends of the
fabulous wealth of the Orient helped in no small way to inspire theCrusades. The first
crusade started in 1096 with an appeal from Pope Urban II to all Christian kings and their
subjects to free the Holy Land from the Muslims. In a surge of dazzling faith and
courage, the first crusade conquered much of the Holy Land and, with it that jewel of
jewels of biblical history, Jerusalem.
Seven more crusades followed, with the last one ending in 1270. The crusades revealed
the wealth of the Orient to the powerful of Europe. Accustomed to the rather Spartan
cultural amenities of Medieval Europe, the Crusaders were stunned by the wealth and
decadent luxuries of the Middle East. As always, luxury was only decadent if someone
else was enjoying it. The crusaders quickly rose to the challenge by learning to enjoy the
luxuries inflicted upon them by their new status as conquerors of the Holy Land. Much of
this luxury was brought from the rich countries of the distant Orient.
A brisk trade by caravan and sea maintained a steady flow of spices, gold, silks, gems,
and precious rarities to the Holy Land. The ancient legends of the wealth of Midas and
the fabulous treasures of King Solomon took on new life as the Crusaders discovered a
world of undreamed of wealth. As some of the plunder of the Crusades began to arrive
back in Europe, new appetites were developed that would then have to be satisfied by
trade. Unfortunately, Europe had little to offer of interest to Middle Eastern and Oriental
traders. The only valuable they could offer in exchange for the wonders of the East was
gold. Thus, gold took on an even greater significance in the European mind.
In 1187 the Saracens under Saladin, Salah-a-Din Yusuf ibn-Ayub, sultan of Egypt,
reconquered Jerusalem. In 1202, a fourth crusade was mounted to invade Egypt and
conquer Cairo. It was believed that by taking Cairo, capital of the Saracen forces, the
path to Jerusalem would then lie open to the Crusaders. Lacking ships for the venture,
they appealed to the Venetians for assistance. The Venetians demanded a high price;
the Crusaders could not meet it. A compromise was reached and, in exchange for
transportation, the Crusaders agreed to help the Venetians reconquer the city of Zara on
the opposite shore of the Adriatic Sea. This they did.
The Venetians then suggested that "on their way to Cairo," the Crusaders lay siege to
Constantinople, ostensibly to help restore a "rightful" pretender to the Byzantine throne.
The temptation to plunder the wealth of this magnificent city was proved too much for the
crusaders to resist, and the siege was undertaken. While the Crusaders were battling the
24
defenders on one side of Constantinople, the Venetians slipped some men over the walls
on the other side and set fire to one of the city's quarters. The defenders became
disheartened, the emperor fled, the city fell and was sacked by the crusaders. Under the
pretense of liberating the Holy Land from the infidel, Christians had attacked other
Christians to fund their crusade. Once again the simple precedent was upheld: the end
justifies the means.
A sixth crusade under Emperor Frederick II of Sicily reconquered Jerusalem in 1229. In
1244, the city fell again to the Egyptians -- this time to stay in Muslim hands.
The lessons of the crusades were measured in plunder. Returning Crusaders brought
back samples of the wealth, and spoke of even greater riches to be conquered by future
armies. When armies could no longer bring back loot, trade became the avenue to the
wealth of the Orient. The Middle East ceased to be a mystery to Europeans; having
conquered and lost it, they were familiar with its ways and could negotiate with its rulers
and merchants. European power was now in the hands of those who could dominate the
waters of the Mediterranean, and control traffic with the Middle East. Access to the
treasures of Orient passed from the armies of Northern Europe to the merchants of Italy.
The fleets of Venice and Genoa became the avenues to trade with the Orient.
The Far East, source of the much-coveted wealth, still remained a mystery. In 1295,
Marco Polo returned from 17 years at the court of Kublai Khan in China. Marco, his
father, Nicolo, and his uncle, Maffeo, returned to Venice with a fortune in emeralds,
rubies and other gems. They also brought first hand reports of the lands they had visited,
the peoples and their customs, and of riches on a scale undreamed of by their
countrymen. Marco Polo's stories were so strange to European ears that many
disbelieved them. The gems brought back by the Polos were very believable, and added
to the legends of Oriental wealth.
During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, a legend grew in Europe about Prester John.
He was said to be a great Christian priest-king who ruled a vast and fabulously wealthy
empire somewhere in Asia or Africa. Prester John was believed to desire contact with his
Christian brothers in Europe. Letters said to have been written by him circulated across
the continent. Several attempts were made to contact this mysterious sovereign. In
1316, Pope John XXII sent eight Dominican friars to Ethiopia in hopes of finding another
power to aid in the struggle to regain the Holy Lands from the Muslims. Far from
discouraging belief in the legend, failure to find Prester John merely increased the hope
that the mythical monarch would someday be contacted.
Access to the mysteries and treasures of the Orient became an obsession for many
Europeans. To reach the Orient, they would first have to sail around Africa; it was not
known if such a feat was possible. In fact, there was little knowledge of the shape of the
African continent. One of the major barriers to southward progress along the west coast
of Africa was Cape Bojador. This barrier lay just southeast of the Canary Islands in what
today is the nation of Western Sahara. At this point, the waters along the West African
shore became shallow and were littered with treacherous reefs. The lands near the cape
25
were mostly barren cliffs of red sand. It was feared that ships passing beyond the cape
would not be able to return.
Looking for Cape Bojador on a map, it is so small as to be hard to find. It seems
impossible today that such a small bump on the coast of Africa could have loomed so
large in the minds of the men of that time. As is the case with so many barriers, this one
was more a product of fear of the unknown than of the realities of its dangers.
In the end, a man who was not a seafarer contributed more than any mariner to defeating
the fears and suspicions surrounding this "impassable" barrier. He was Prince Henry of
Portugal. Known as Henry the Navigator, he made it possible to open up a sea route to
the Orient from Europe.
Prince Henry of Portugal, third son of King John I, was born in 1394. Henry would never
become king, but his legacy would be greater than that of many monarchs of his country.
In 1415, he took part in an expedition that temporarily conquered the ancient Roman port
of Septa (Ceuta) on the northern shore of Africa, opposite Gibraltar. There, for the first
time, he observed the wealth brought across Africa by the caravans. Returning to
Portugal, Henry established a base at Sagres, near the southwestern tip of Europe.
From there, he organized and financed numerous expeditions to explore the western
coast of Africa. In addition to sending ships down that coast, Prince Henry also brought
discipline to the art of mapmaking and to the markings made by mariners on their charts
during these voyages.
Prince Henry would not accept the impassability of Cape Bojador; he sent out fifteen
expeditions to find a way past this feared barrier. In 1434, after one of his captains, Gil
Eammes, had failed the year before to round Bojador, Prince Henry sent him back with a
strong recommendation to try again -- and the promise of great rewards if he succeeded.
Caught between the potential for reward and the implications of failing to try, Eannes had
little choice but to try harder. Approaching the dreaded cape and fearful of struggling with
the currents and reefs, he tried the only thing left; he sailed west into the Atlantic -- a
fearful and daring thing in itself. He then doubled back towards the African coast and, lo
and behold, he had passed the cape. To his surprise, the land looked the same as it did
at the cape -- but the great barrier had been passed!
Navigating the Atlantic demanded sailing capabilities and skills different from those
commonly employed in the Mediterranean. Much sailing of the Mediterranean was still
done by following coast lines. The Venetians had developed carracks, large squarerigged vessels that sailed with the wind and could carry large cargoes. To explore the
Atlantic, a vessel needed to to sail against the wind in order to be able to turn back.
Square-rigged vessels could not do this. Learning from Arab vessels called Dhows, the
Portuguese designed ships with lateen (triangular) sails that could sail against the wind.
Ancient Arab and Egyptian vessels using this type of rigging were called Caravos. A
smaller vessel of similar design but greater maneuverability was already in use in the
rivers of Portugal; it was called a Caravela (little Caravo in Portuguese). Under Prince
Henry's direction, exploration ships were built using the design of the caravel.
26
In 1444, a Venetian merchant, Niccolo de Conti, returned from twenty-five years of
traveling about the Middle East and South East Asia. Tales of his wanderings and
experiences in the Far East added to the legend of Prester John. Conti also speculated
that it might be possible to reach the Spice Islands of Orient by sailing around the horn of
Africa. This information further strengthened the drive to explore the West Coast of
Africa. In that same year, Gil Eannes, returned from another African trip, but this time he
brought back two hundred blacks to be sold as slaves at the port of Lagos near Sagres,
Portugal. This new trade made exploration of the African coast a highly profitable
venture. The bitter effects of the opening of this shameful chapter of human history linger
to the present day.
Prince Henry died in 1460. His nephew, King Alfonso V, continued the exploration of the
African coast by granting monopolies to explorer/traders provided they would advance
the discoveries made by their predecessors. Alfonso‘s son, King John II, ascended the
throne in 1481, and pursued the exploration even further south along the coast of Africa.
Voyages were now financed by imports such as gold, pepper, spices and slaves.
Having reached the Kingdom of Benin in the Gulf of Guinea, the Portuguese explorers
learned of a mighty ruler to the East to whom the king of Benin had sent gifts. This ruler's
kingdom could be reached by a twelve-month overland journey to the East. Gifts
received from the mysterious king bore markings resembling Christian crosses. This
discovery excited the imagination of the Portuguese explorers, and the legend of Prester
John grew hot again.
King John, interested in finding a Christian ally to defeat the Muslims, organized a twoman expedition to the East. He chose for this dangerous mission two outstanding men,
Affonso Paiva and Pero da Covilha. Covilha, only in his late twenties, knew several
languages including Arabic, and had already demonstrated his abilities in missions for the
king in Spain and Africa. Affonso Paiva was a gentleman of the king's court. In 1487 the
two explorers traveled first to Barcelona, Spain, where they embarked for Naples. From
there they traveled to the island of Rhodes, and then into Muslim territory. To avoid
drawing attention to themselves, they dressed as Muslims and posed as merchants who
traded in honey. The adventurous Portuguese emissaries proceeded to Alexandria and
Cairo and from there to the port of Aden on the Red Sea.
At this point, following instructions from the King, they separated. Paiva went to Ethiopia
in search of Prester John and was never heard from again. Covilha traveled to India
reaching Calicut and Goa on the southwestern coast of the subcontinent. In 1489,
Covilha journeyed by sea to East Africa reaching the port of Sofala near Madagascar.
He then traveled north to Cairo where he found emissaries from King John II awaiting
him. They delivered a letter from the king ordering him to proceed to the kingdom of
Prester John and secure an alliance with that sovereign. Covilha gave the emissaries a
letter to King John with the findings of his trip to India, and then went on to Ethiopia.
27
Arriving in Ethiopia, 1493, Covilha presented himself to the court of King Alexander, "Lion
of Judah." He became so valuable to the Ethiopian king that he was not allowed to
return home. Covilha‘s letter to King John, however, was of great importance to the
continued Portuguese exploration of Africa. He pointed out that it was poosible for
caravels to sail along the African coast until they reached Sofala and Madagascar. From
there, he said, they could make the crossing to the shores of Calicut.
While Covilha was exploring the East Coast of Africa in an Arab Dhow, he had no way of
knowing that in February of 1488, Bartholomeu Dias had already rounded the southern
tip of Africa from the west. Wanting to capitalize on his achievement, Dias hoped to sail
into the Indian Ocean. His crew, however, was on the verge of mutiny from fear and
fatigue, and refused to go on. In December of 1488, Dias sailed into Lisbon harbor with
the great news that the southern tip of Africa had been rounded.
Among the people there who received the news was Chrtistopher Columbus; he had
come to Portugal from Spain to try once more to persuade King John II of the merits of a
westward voyage to reach the Indies. His timing couldn't have been worse; Dias'
discovery made Columbus's concept unnecessary. Why venture forth into the unknown
waters of the Ocean Sea to the west in search of the Indies, when by following the route
explored by Dias it was certain they could be reached?
The Golden Horn.
Halfway around the world, at about the same time as the ceremony of the Golden One
was taking place, the great city of Constantinople was fighting for its life; its fall would
trigger a wave of exploration culminating in the discovery of America. Established by the
Emperor Constantine as the eastern capital of the Roman empire over a thousand years
earlier, Constantinople was now under siege by the armies of Muhammad II, sultan of the
Ottoman Turks.
This magnificent city was built on seven hills overlooking the Golden Horn, the southern
end of the strait of Bosporus. About 20 miles in length, the strait links the Black Sea with
the Sea of Marmara at the point where the continents of Europe and Asia meet. From
this strategic position the Byzantine Empire, as the eastern Roman Empire became
known, had been a dominating influence in the Middle East. Its armies and fleets had, at
one time, extended the empire across north Africa as far as the straits of Gibraltar; in
Europe, its territories had included most of the Balkans and half of Italy.
28
In 1451, the same year that Columbus, Queen Isabel of Spain, and Amerigo Vespucci
were born, Muhammad II inherited his throne and immediately began preparations for the
assault on Constantinople. On April 5, 1453, Mohammed II began his siege. By then,
the Byzantine Empire had lost all of its possessions in Asia and was reduced to a small
part of the Balkans. Constantinople was protected on land by a moat and triple walls 30
feet high by 16 wide, and topped with 192 turrets. On the opposite side, the sea and
another wall stood guard against any assault.
The great city had withstood the onslaught of wave after wave of invading Asian hordes
for more than a thousand years. If Constantinople fell, European access to trade with the
Orient would be cut off. Luxuries such as silk and spices, introduced to Europe by the
Crusaders in earlier centuries, would no longer be available. The rich city-states of Italy,
Venice and Genoa, would lose power and influence, their mighty fleets unable to break
the Turkish domination of the eastern Mediterranean and its ports.
29
Designed to resist siege machines such as battering rams mounted on wooden towers,
and withstand the impact of huge stones hurled by catapult, the walls of Constantinople
had defeated many powerful foes over the centuries. With the help of Greek Fire, a
mysterious liquid made of naphtha, sulfur, and saltpeter, pumped through pipes in an
early version of a flame-thrower, or launched in clay pots from catapults, the Byzantine
defenders had set fire to many enemy siege towers and ships over the centuries. In AD
941, Prince Igor of Russia might have conquered the city had his thousands of ships not
been destroyed by the Greek Fire.
If Constantinople was so important to Europe, why did other nations not come to her
rescue? In the history of human events, local squabbles have almost always taken
precedence over international crises, at least until these showed up on each nation's
doorstep. Venice and Genoa, the powerful merchant cities of Italy, fought among
themselves for centuries for domination of Mediterranean trade.
At one point, Venice warred against both Constantinople and Genoa. France, Spain,
Portugal, and England were equally busy with their own squabbles and, having shores on
the Atlantic, were not as dependent upon the Mediterranean. Actually, some European
nations did try to help. The Pope sent three galleys loaded with food and weapons that
managed to get through the Turkish blockade, but it was too little too late. The Venetians
argued at length among themselves before finally agreeing to send fifteen galleys.
Leaving Venice after the siege had begun, the Venetian galleys never made it to
Constantinople.
Once again, the Byzantines placed their faith in the mighty fortified walls of their city, but
this time the odds were too great. Constantinople had some 7,000 able-bodied men; of
these, only a small number were experienced soldiers. Facing them was a Turkish army
of over 80,000 trained combatants, and siege guns capable of firing 680 pound
projectiles at targets a mile away. The walls facing the Golden Horn were less fortified
than those on the land side of the city. A massive chain stretching across the mouth of
the channel made it impossible for enemy vessels to get near the walls.
The large Turkish fleet tried to break through the barrier, but was defeated by the chain
and a small number of defending ships. Muhammad II was not a man easily defeated.
He ordered his artillery to set up a steady barrage against the walls facing the entrance to
the Golden Horn. As the smoke from the bombardment drifted across the waters,
thousands of men labored for several weeks behind a smoke screen while they built a
road from the Bosporus to the Golden Horn. When it was ready, over 70 war ships
mounted on wheeled carts drawn by oxen started down the road. With oxen straining,
and thousands of men pushing and pulling the carts, the fleet slowly moved over several
hills. Reaching the last hill before the Golden Horn, it remained hidden while the barrage
continued and preparations were made for launching the fleet.
One morning, after seemingly endless days of bombarment, the barrage just stopped.
The unexpected silence must have been unnerving to the defenders. Then, just as
30
suddenly as it had ended, the thundering roar of the barrage was replaced by the sounds
of drums, cymbals, trumpets, and the shouts of thousands of men. As the 70 warships
made it over the last hill, the tired defenders of Constantinople stared in awe at the
extraordinary spectacle of an entire enemy fleet rolling downhill toward the Golden Horn.
With full sails and all oars manned and rowing in the air, the ships slipped into the water,
thus completing the siege. Constantinople was now surrounded on all sides.
The end was not long in coming. At two in the morning of the 30th of May, 1453, in the
midst of the roar of the siege guns and the sound of battle drums, cymbals and trumpets,
wave after wave of Turkish troops attacked the walls on the land side of the city. Every
able-bodied man joined the defense, and attack after attack was repelled until it almost
seemed as if the defenders' prayers had been heard, and the city would be saved once
again. By mistake or treachery, a small door in the outer wall had been left open. Called
sally ports, these doors were used to launch surprise night raids against besiegers. The
door was discovered by the Turks, and troops began to pour through.
The defenders still held their own, and the Turks were not able to get through the outer
wall. At this point, Giovanni Giustiniani Longo, the leader of a contingent of Genoese
troops defending that part of the wall, was wounded. Judging the situation to be
hopeless, the Genoese took their wounded leader with them to one of their ships, and
departed.
From outside the walls, the sultan observed the confusion caused by the departure of the
Genoese. Sensing an opportunity, he ordered his special troops, the Janissaries, to
attack once more. War captives and children of Christian families living in Turkish
territories, the Janissaries were Moslem converts. Trained under the strictest discipline,
and personally loyal to the sultan, they were an elite corps of fierce shock troops.
Pressing their attack, the Janissaries breached the outer wall and raised the Turkish
emblem on one of the turrets.
As the end approached, the last emperor of the Eastern Roman empire, Constantine XI
Palaeologus, dismounted from his horse, threw aside the royal insignia and, fighting on
foot, bravely died defending a breach in the wall against the Janissaries. The city fell
shortly after. It was all over -- except for the traditional three days of looting which the
sultan always allotted to his troops as a reward for their efforts and bravery.
Europe could no longer look to the Mediterranean or the Middle East as the source of
trade with the Orient. The galley, the ship that had dominated Mediterranean trade and
warfare for almost two thousand years, was also destined to disappear. Equipped with
sails and oars, galleys were very fast and maneuverable, well suited for close combat
and for coastal traffic. Basically a product of inland sea navigation, the galley's long,
narrow shape did not lend itself well to lengthy trips across open seas; such as the
voyages that would lead to the discovery of America. The next three centuries would
belong to ocean-going vessels. The gold of the gods of the New World would be carried
to the Old World in the holds of caravels and galleons.
31
Chapter Two
Spain, Breeder Of Conquistadors.
32
Chapter Two
Spain, Breeder Of Conquistadors.
To follow the trail of gold through the New World, one must ask many questions about the
country that sponsored its discovery and conquest.
Why Spain? Why not another country? What motivated this country to finance the
westward quest for a passage to the Indies?
Why then? What kind of men came to the New World to wrest gold from its ancient
gods? What culture did they come from? What were their values? What was their
history?
When one considers that the history of Spain till shortly before 1492 is one of a country
more plundered than plundering, is it any surprise that the conquistadors were learned in
this art?
Over 2,000 years before Spaniards came to plunder the gold of the New World,
Phoenicians, Greeks, Carthaginians, and Romans journeyed to Spain for the same
reason. Ancient Iberia was rich in gold, silver, and lead, as well as other resources such
as agricultural products. Geographically, the Iberian Peninsula is isolated from the rest of
Europe by the Pyrenees, a mountain range spreading from the Mediterranean to the
Atlantic along the southern border of France. Much of Spain is mountainous and dry,
differing from parts of North Africa only in its abundance of rivers. The central area,
Castile, is located on a high plateau. To the west is Portugal, once a part of Spain. To
the south is the Mediterranean, and the sunny coast that borders it.
The early inhabitants of the peninsula were known as Iberians; not much remains to tell
us about them. They were followed by the Celts, kindred of the Irish and the Bretons.
They too left little except bagpipes and a strange preference for wearing black, especially
among the women. The Phoenicians, daring explorers of the Mediterranean, discovered
the mineral wealth of Iberia around 1100 BC, and founded ports along the southern
shores of the peninsula. One of these, Gades, founded in the ninth century BC is known
today as Cadiz. In addition to building ports, the Phoenicians also mined mineral lodes
near the Mediterranean.
Phoenician vessels voyaged from their home ports of Tyre, Sidon and Byblos to
Tartessus at the mouth of the Guadalquivir river. From Iberian ports, the Phoenicians
sailed past the Pillars of Hercules (the Strait of Gibraltar), into the Atlantic and south to
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explore the coast of Africa. Phoenician galleys journeyed all the way from Asia to Britain,
and in 490 BC, Carthaginian leader Hanno traveled 2600 miles down the Atlantic coast of
Africa.
The Phoenicians were followed by the Greeks. Mainly from Ionia (today Turkey and
Syria), they built the ports of Mainake (Malaga), Hereoskopeion (Denia), Saguntum
(Sagunto), Tarraco (Tortosa), and Emporiae (Ampurias) along the Mediterranean.
While the Phoenicians were founding cities in Spain, they were also settling the north
coast of Africa; in 814 BC they founded the city of Kart-Hadasht (New Town), Carthage.
Over the centuries, Carthage grew wealthy from Iberian gold, silver, iron and copper, and
became a power in itself. By 264 BC, the Carthaginian Empire encompassed much of
western North Africa, most of southern Spain where they established the city of Cartago
Nova (Cartagena), the islands of Corsica and Sardinia, and part of the island of Sicily.
That year saw the start of the first of three wars (the Punic Wars) with the emerging
Republic of Rome.
In the second Punic war, Carthage lost its Spanish colonies to Rome. The Romans lost
no time in reaping the benefits of their conquest. In 207 BC, Scipio Africanus returned to
Rome with 14,000 pounds of Spanish and Carthaginian silver. In 202 BC, he entered
Rome with 123,00 pounds of silver. Spain became the Roman province of Hispania.
The Roman senate imposed a substantial tribute on Hispania paid, of course, in bullion
and coins. As the Spanish conquerors would do in the New World seventeen centuries
later, Roman governors found opportunities to increase their personal wealth: Quintus
Minucius extracted 34,800 pounds of silver and 35,000 silver denarii for his own benefit.
The subjugation of Iberia did not come easily. Over a period of nearly 70 years, the
Romans fought numerous wars against the natives. The ferocity of these struggles was
such that, in the end, Iberia may have cost the Romans more than they took from the
peninsula. But Iberian mines would support Rome's appetite for gold until the end of the
empire.
When Roman legions entered a new territory, they stripped temples and public buildings
of all gold and treasures. The poor were enslaved, and the wealthy bought their freedom
with gold. Rome became addicted to the lifestyle supported by Iberian gold. Conquest
became a necessity to provide slaves to work the mines, and to serve the newly rich
Roman aristocracy.
Gold found new places and uses in Roman art and architecture; walls and pillars were
gilded. In the first century AD, the emperor Domitian gilded the roof and doors of the
temple of Jupiter on Capitoline Hill. Using a Greek technique called ―fire gilding,‖
powdered gold was mixed with mercury and applied to the surface to be gilded. A torch
was then held to the surface to vaporize the mercury; what then remained was a bright
layer of fused gold. There was one drawback to the technique; the slaves who inhaled
the mercury vapors eventually died of mercury poisoning. Of course, slaves were
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considered expendable, but their loss made it necessary to fight more wars to acquire
more slaves.
Until about the second century BC, Iberian gold was available in abundance from alluvial
deposits. At Hispanis (Seville), gold nuggets were found in the waters and sands of the
Guadalquivir River. As these sources were exhausted, it became necessary to mine the
gold. By the end of the first century BC, deep shafts had been dug into the Iberian soil to
extract its mineral wealth. Roman engineering was put to the test attempting to provide
ventilation for the slaves working the mines at ever increaing depths. Even so, the death
toll was horrendous. Local populations were drafted to provide slave labor. Finally, when
the local labor pool was exhausted, slaves were brought from Africa to work the dark
depths of the Iberian mines. Chained to their positions, the slaves were worked until they
died.
Roman ingenuity kept up with the challenges of finding and mining more gold. Hydraulic
mining was developed to wash away topsoil hiding rich veins of gold. The streams of
mountainous Iberia were dammed, and their waters fed through leather pipes to create
jets of high pressure. This technological innovation reduced the problem of keeping up
with slave mortality, but it also washed away an estimated fifty million tons of Iberian
topsoil and silted up harbors that became useless for vital shipping.
The influx of gold into the Roman economy stimulated a rise in imports to satisfy the
growing appetite for luxury. Gold that could have generated new wealth by investing in
industry and agriculture, was spent on luxury items and necessities imported from the
provinces. As fast as the gold poured into Rome, it flowed out again to pay for imports.
Rome was weakened, and the provinces grew richer.
Inevitably, Roman and Iberian cultures gave to each other. The Romans colonized
Iberia, built roads and bridges, introduced their wine-growing agriculture, and established
a long lasting version of their own culture. So strong was the imprint of Roman culture
upon the province that it was said of western lberia that it was "more Roman than Rome".
Many of the names of today's Spanish cities are corruptions of the original Latin names;
Augusta Emerita became Merida, Corduba is Cordoba, Valentia is Valencia, Salamantica
is Salamanca, and so on. Pre-Roman Iberia had a proliferation of languages; Latin
became a unifying force by providing a language common to all areas. Most of the old
languages eventually disappeared with the exception of Basque, which is still spoken
today. When Christianity penetrated the empire, Hispania became a bastion of
Christianity, a legacy that outlasted the barbarian and Muslim invasions, and endures to
this day.
In return, Hispania produced many distinguished Romans, among them two emperors,
several poets, and one of Rome's greatest philosophers, Seneca. In addition to gold,
Hispania also provided Rome with horses, silver, tin, lead, wine, olive oil, and a much
appreciated fish paste called "Garum".
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Among the lesser-known but valuable contributions of lberian culture to the Romans, was
the short sword used for centuries by Roman cavalrymen. It is said the Romans learned
its value when, during the conquest of Iberia, they discovered native cavalrymen could
fight faster and more effectively on horseback by stabbing with this short weapon rather
than trying to swing a long sword.
In the end, Spain may have become too Roman, because when Rome's power and vigor
decayed, so eventually did Spain's. Rome's wealth attracted the barbarians; so did
Spain's. When conquest became too onerous for the empire's human and material
resources and no more gold could be found, Rome ceased pushing outward. Sensing a
power vacuum, the barbarians pushed inwards.
Who were these barbarians? Where did they come from? How were they able to invade
and conquer the once mighty Roman Empire?
The Barbarian Invasions.
The pressures that eventually led to the invasion of the Iberian Peninsula by the
barbarians actually began to develop in northern China during the first century AD. The
Hsiung-nu, a confederacy of nomads who harassed the northern fringes of the Chinese
Empire, were finally routed by the Han dynasty armies. Dislodged from their base, the
Hsiung-nu settled in central Asia and formed alliances with other nomads and tribes.
In the fourth century, they again threatened and invaded northern China. Meanwhile,
other members of the confederacy, the Huns, moved westward entering Russia and
Eastern Europe in AD 370. In the process, they dislodged the Germanic peoples who
lived along the borders of the Roman Empire, pushing them in waves across Western
Europe for the next three centuries.
The first group affected were the Ostrogoths who lived in the Ukraine and in Crimea.
Fleeing the Huns, they moved westward. In turn, the Ostrogoths pushed the Visigoths
out of their homeland near the Dniester River in southwestern Russia. The Visigoths first
settled in what today is Bulgaria. They defeated Emperor Valens at the battle of
Adrianople in AD 378 and, in the following years, pushed on through Greece and into
Italy. In AD 410, they sacked Rome, and moved on to southwestern France where they
settled Aquitaine.
Behind the Visigoths came the Suevi, Alani, and Vandals, out of eastern Germany and
Poland, plundering Gaul and crossing into Spain in AD 409. In AD 411, the Suevi
founded a kingdom in northwestern Spain (Galicia), which lasted until AD 585 when it
was absorbed by the Visigoths. The Vandals and Alarii swept across southern Spain,
eventually moving into North Africa where they settled. The Vandals left their mark on
Spain where the southern portion still bears the name of land of the Vandals, in Arabic, Al
Andalus or Andalusia.
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The word "Vandalize" comes from what the Vandals did to the lands they conquered.
Chronicles of the period describe their passage as ―total devastation‖. The population
was put to the sword, houses and buildings burnt to the ground, crops trampled, and food
supplies confiscated. Corpses polluted air and water, disease decimated those spared
by the sword, and wild animals seeking carrion roamed the streets of towns and villages.
Famine spread across the land further weakening survivors who then succumbed to
plagues and disease.
In the meantime, the Visigoths were dislodged from Aquitaine by steady pressure of the
Roman armies. Under the leadership of Ataulphus, the Visigoths moved into that part of
Spain that the Romans called Tarraconensis, roughly equivalent to today's Catalonia.
There, they occupied several cities, among them Barcelona where Ataulphus establshed
his headquarters.
Earlier, when the Visigoths sacked Rome, they took prisoner the emperor's sister, Gala
Placidia. Hoping to unite both kingdoms, Ataulphus married Gala Placidia. A child,
named Theodosius, was born to them but died shortly after. Not long afterwards,
Ataulphus died as a result of wounds received during an assassination attempt.
A brief struggle for power ensued, and Valius emerged as the Visigoth leader. Under
Valius, the Visigoths attempted to cross the Mediterranean into North Africa but were
frustrated by a storm that destroyed their ships. Facing starvation, their food supplies
exhausted, in AD 416, they entered into a peace pact with the Emperor Honorius. This
treaty, required the return of Gala Placidia to Rome and, in exchange for a commitment
to supply them with food from Roman warehouses, the Visigoths agreed to pacify the
Iberian peninsula by bringing other barbarian nations there under control
The first targets of this effort were the Vandals. There were two Vandal tribes, the
Asdingi and the Silengi. Under the command of Valius, the Visigoth armies defeated the
Silengi Vandals taking their king to Rome as a prisoner. The Asdingi Vandals, dislodged
from northern Spain by a Roman army, moved south into the area denominated Hispania
Baetica. There, they conquered Cartagena (Cartago Nova), and Seville (Hispalis).
From southern Spain, the Vandals crossed the Mediterranean to North Africa invading
Numidia, Mauretania and Tripolitania. This was a long-desired goal of the Vandals; on
two previous occasions they had tried unsuccessfully to cross into Africa. They set up an
independent state on the site of ancient Carthage. In AD 470, the Vandals crossed the
Mediterranean again, this time headed north to conquer Sicily. With the fall of Sicily, and
having already lost Spain and Egypt, Rome was left without major sources of grain to
feed its population. The end of the Empire was near.
Despite the barbarian invasions and settlements, Spain remained very Roman in culture,
language, laws, and religion. At the time of the invasions, the Hispano-Roman population
exceeded two million. The invading barbarians numbered less than 300,000. The
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Hispano-Roman population lived mostly in the cities; many of these were well fortified.
The barbarians had learned from the Romans how to lay siege to cities, but preferred
easier targets. They roamed the countryside raiding unsuspecting villages.
A particularly bellicose and contentious tribe was that of the Suevi which had occupied
the region of Galicia in the northwestern part of the peninsula., They fought everyone including one another, seeking prosperity and dominion through frequent raids, invasions,
and wars. Warriors earned fame, honor, and fortune in battle. Over a period of two
hundred years, the Suevi raided most of Spain and Portugal with the exception of
Tarraconensis where the Visigoths had settled. Although they temporarily occupied
many of these territories, they usually withdrew to their base in Galicia.
The Suevi were so disruptive that they forced the Romans and the Visigoths, separately
and at times jointly, to look for ways to bring them under control. Numerous military
campaigns were waged against the Suevi, often ending in peace treaties and truces that
they quickly broke by returning to their marauding ways.
Forced to take action against the Suevi, the Visigoths were drawn further into the Iberian
Peninsula. Finally, in AD 585, the last Suevi king, Andeca, was defeated by the Visigoth
king Leovigild in battles at Braga and Oporto in Portugal. Leovigild locked Andeca up in
a monastery for the rest of his days, expropriated the Suevi treasure, and subjected the
tribe to his authority. With this, Visigoth domination of the Iberian Peninsula was
completed.
Why were the barbarian tribes able to roam the empire so freely? Rome no longer had
the military might to keep them in check. Through treaties, truces, concessions, truces,
bribes, and tribute, the Romans played the tribes against one another. They tried to get
the barbarians to work with the Empire rather than against it. Through alliances and
pacts, the barbarians were granted the right to exist within the empire's borders in
exchange for performing certain military assignments. These often involved protecting
designated border areas against other barbarian tribes.
To support this effort, Rome committed to supplying barbarian troops with food from
imperial warehouses located throughout its territories. The warehouses were stocked
with food collected as taxes from the inhabitants of each area. Supplies for the barbarian
armies were usually shipped by sea to the nearest port, and then transported over
Roman roads for delivery. Although expensive, the system worked - most of the time.
When it couldn‘t, the barbarians rioted and looted the areas they were supposed to
protect.
For a long time Rome was able to keep the barbarian tribes from settling in the territories
they guarded. Troops were quartered free in the homes of Roman citizens. Very
detailed regulations existed to govern this arrangement. The homeowner was instructed
to divide the residence into three equal parts. The owner chose the part he liked best.
The soldier had first choice regarding the two remaining parts. The part not chosen by
the soldier reverted to the owner.
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When, after many years of wandering, the Visigoths finally decided to settle in the fertile
lands of southwestern France and later in Spain, a system had to be developed for
allocating lands to members of the tribe. The land was already owned and occupied by
others, usually large landholders (Latifundi). These properties had been divided by their
owners into two categories, terra dominicata or directly farmed by the owner, and terra
"indominicati farmed by tenants. The Visigoths expropriated two thirds of the tenantfarmed lands, and one third of the owner farmed lands of the latifundists or large
landholders. Expropriated lands were turned over to the new owners with everything on
them, including slaves, buildings, and equipment.
Other than ownership, not much else changed; the same laborers farmed the same lands
using the same methods and tools as always. Patterns of conquest and domination were
established during this period that would be repeated a thousand years later in the New
World when the natives of the New World would be forced to farm their own land to
supply the Spanish Conquistadors with food.
Visigoth domination was not as unwelcome as might be expected. Years of instability,
exorbitant Roman taxation, heavy-handed tax collectors, lawlessness, raids and
invasions by marauders, renegades, and barbarians, made Hispano-Romans yearn for
peace, law, and order. Compared to death, disease, and personal injury, loss of property
was a minor evil -- if with it came some form of stability and protection. Although initially
they may have numbered less than 200,000, the Visigoths were able to provide authority
and military protection. For the most part, the Hispano-Romans retained their laws,
traditions, customs and religion.
Although converted to Christianity, the Visigoths adhered to the Arrian sect, which had
originated in Byzantium. As so often is the case with conquerors, the Visigoths were
more influenced by the conquered than vice versa. In time, Latin became the language
of the court. As convenience dictated, the Visigoths also converted back and forth
between the two faiths. Eventually, they committed to the religion of Rome.
Visigoth rule of Spain was not free from internal and external strife. Not all the subject
populations were passive; rebellions sparked by heavy-handed rule or by cultural
conflicts were frequent during the early years of Visigoth presence. Rivalries among
Visigoth noble families and leaders led to several coups and assassinations. During one
of these struggles for power, one Visigoth leader requested the assistance of the
Byzantines who by this time had conquered most of northern Africa from the Vandals.
Although Byzantine Emperor Justinian was much occupied with the conquest of Gothic
Italy at the time, such an invitation was too good to pass up. A small army was sent to
"aid" the Visigoth leader. As a result, the Byzantines occupied an extensive portion of
southern Spain and remained for seventy years.
Several wars were also fought with the Franks who eventually chased the Visigoths out
of southern France, but were unable to achieve any significant penetration into Spain.
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With the exception of Byzantine Spain, the rest of the peninsula was finally brought under
one Visigoth ruler by king Leovigild (AD 572 - 586). Leovigild established his court in
Toledo, and began to surround himself with trappings of royalty in the style of the
Byzantine monarchs. Breaking with tradition, he issued edicts, a right previously
reserved only for emperors and respected by all previous Germanic kings. Leovigild
became the first Germanic king to mint coins bearing his image and carrying no reference
to the Empire. Leovigild revised the existing body of laws removing many of the
inequities favoring Visigoths over Hispano-Romans in litigation.
Having unified most of the country militarily and politically, he also tried to make
Arrianism its principal religion. In this he failed. His son, Hermenegild, renounced
Arrianism, and rose in rebellion against his father. Hermenegild was defeated and later
killed, but Arrianism did not take hold. When Leovigild died in AD 586, his successor,
Recared, converted to the religion of Rome, thus completing the unification of the
Visigoth and Hispano-Roman peoples.
For the next 125 years, the blending of conquered with conqueror continued. The
Visigoths became Romanized and the Hispano Romans assumed more importance
within government, but the nature of that structure also changed. Provinces were ruled
by governors, but military power was under the direction of a "Duke". In time, the dukes
replaced the governors, consolidating in their persons civic and military powers.
Provinces were divided into 'territories," and the old Roman municipal governments were
replaced by the appointment of city judges or "counts"; at the territory level, they had the
same powers as dukes.
The breaking down of the old Roman municipal government led to a weakening of city
influence, a strengthening of rural power in the hands of large landholders, and the
"feudalization" of society. This new structure created powers at the rural level capable of
challenging the authority of central government. Conspiracies and assassinations were
not infrequent causes of change of rulers. Rivalries among ruling families contributed to
the weakening of central power, and the eventual downfallI of Visigoth rule.
One of the strange stories to come out of the seemingly endless chain of Visigoth royal
intrigues is that of King Wamba‘s loss of his throne in AD 680. In the eighth year of his
rule, Wamba suffered a fainting spell. Believing the king's life endangered, and following
the custom of the times with regard to persons who were at death's door, Bishop Julian
had Wamba‘s head shaven with the clerical tonsure. The king quickly recovered and
discovered to his dismay that had he been tonsured. By law, a cleric could not be king.
Wamba had been made a clergyman without his knowledge or consent; but this still
disqualified him from ruling. The king renounced the throne and retired to a monastery
after recommending that Ervigius, a descendant of his predecessor, be elected king. This
was done. Shortly afterwards, however, it was discovered that, at the time of his fainting
spell, Wamba had imbibed a potion that caused dizziness. The potion was given to him
by Ervigius.
King followed king as rivalries deepened, and the seeds of the end of Visigoth rule were
sown. Ervigius was succeeded in AD 687 by son-in-law, Egica, who also happened to be
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a nephew of Wamba. In AD 702, Egica was followed by his son, Witiza, who ruled until
his death in AD 710. His successor, Rodrigo, descendant of an earlier ruler, was elected
to the throne by peers. Rodrigo was destined to be the last Visigoth king of Spain.
Muslim Spain (AD 711 - 1492)
Note: History and legend are interwoven in the telling of the Muslim invasion of Spain.
Where possible, I have attempted to separate the two, but it must be remembered that
legends are as strong a force in the shaping of the future as history itself.
During his reign, King Witiza lived in constant fear of conspiracies and rebellions. Having
created many enemies along the way to the throne and during his time in it, he had good
reason to fear. To keep his enemies from using key cities as strongholds against him, he
dismantled the walls and fortifications of as many cities as he could. To an extent, the
strategy worked, but it also left much of the country defenseless against invaders. To
further strengthen his hand, Witiza pursued the sons of an earlier king. When one of
these, Theodore, was captured, Witiza ordered his eyes plucked out, and imprisoned him
in a fortress in Cordoba where he eventually died.
Theodore's son, Rodrigo, fled to Rome where he received sanctuary. In exile, Rodrigo
learned the profession of arms. Returning to Spain, he quickly raised an army and
defeated Witiza. Rodrigo exacted biblical revenge by blinding Witiza, and imprisoning
him in the same fortress where Theodore died. Witiza died shortly after. Not wanting
Witiza's sons around to plot against him, Rodrigo sent them into exile where they did
exactly that - they plotted against him.
At this tlme, the Muslim expansion across North Africa had reached all the way to the
Atlantic Ocean, dislodging the Byzantine emperor's hold on the area. One city remained
unconquered, Ceuta, directly across the strait from Spain, was still a Visigoth outpost.
This vital stronghold was governed by Count Julian. History cannot tell us whether the
Count was Visigoth, Byzantine, or Berber, nor do we know if his name was Julian, Ullan,
Olian, Ulban, or Urban. . We do know, however, that he was in charge of defending that
key city from the Muslim onslaught.
It was customary among Visigoth nobles to send some of their children to be educated at
the king's court. Count Julian had sent his daughter -- legend has given her the name of
Florinda -- to Toledo to serve as one of the queen's companions.
The city of Toledo is built on a mountain that is surrounded on three sides by the river
Tagus. According to legend, King Rodrigo spied on the queen's maidens as they bathed
in the Tagus. There, he saw and fell in love with the beautiful and virtuous Florinda.
Rodrigo began to woo the young maiden, but she rebuffed his advances. Frustrated and
burning with passion, Rodrigo took the innocent maiden by force. When Count Julian
learned of the outrage suffered by his daughter, he swore vengeance against the king,
but was careful not to make his intentions known externally lest they be reported back to
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Rodrigo. He would wait and, in time, the moment for vengeance would reveal itself to
him.
Count Julian did not have to wait long for his revenge. Witiza's sons had approached the
Moors in North Aftica to gain their support in a campaign against Rodrigo. They
appealed for help to Musa Ibn Nusayr, recently appointed independent governor of the
province of Ifriqiya (Tunis) by the Caliph of Damascus. Musa, who had led the Muslim
advance to the Atlantic coast of Africa, was reluctant to attempt an invasion across the
strait in a land he knew little about. With the assistance of Count Julian, he sent a small
party of Berber troops across the strait to explore the Spanish mainland. They met little
opposition and returned with glowing reports of a rich land with hospitable climate, and
much weakened by internal strife.
Rodrigo had not consolidated his rule over the kingdom. In addition to the plotting by
Witiza's sons, there was much dissension among the classes. The noble families
quarrelled among themselves regarding succession to the throne. The lower classes
resented the privileges of the nobles. The Jews, who had been persecuted by earlier
Visigoth kings, were also conspiring against the king and, in the northeast, the Basques
were in rebellion.
In April or May of AD 711, Musa sent Tariq Ibn Ziyad with 400 men in ships supplied by
Count Julian to conduct further exploration of the Iberian peninsula. Legend describes
Tariq as a fierce, one-eyed Berber wartior who had served with great distinction under
Musa Ibn Nusayr throughout the African campaigns. Landing in Spain, he built a fortified
post on the rocks at the old Roman port of Calpe; the post was named Tariq‘s Mountain,
Yabal Tariq, which has come down to us through the centuries as Gibraltar. King
Rodrigo was in the north, laying siege to the city of Pamplona where the Basques were in
rebellion. When he heard of the Muslim landings, Rodrigo led his army south to the city
of Cordoba. Tariq, alarmed by the possiblity of facing a large Visigoth force, requested
reinforcements from Africa. Musa responded quickly sending 5,000 men, including Count
Julian. Tariq did not advance to do battle with Rodrigo, but awaited him on a battlefield of
his own choosing.
The battle that was to settle the destiny of Spain for the next eight centuries was fought
on the 19th of July, AD 711, in a valley next to the River Barbate near Lake Janda in
southern Spain. Rodrigo attacked first. Legend says the hard-fought battle lasted two
days. According to Arab historians of the period, Rodrigo commanded the center of the
Visigoth forces, while the wings were under the command of nobles who had been loyal
to Witiza. Witiza's sons, it must be remembered, had sought the assistance of the
Muslims to advance their own interests; they probably believed the Muslims, once loaded
with enough booty, would be satisfied with the results of their efforts and would return to
Africa. Sometime during the battle, in a movement that has been interpreted as the result
of a conspiracy of the Witiza faction, the wings withdrew leaving Rodrigo fighting alone in
the center. The king and his army fought on valiantly, but were overwhelmed in the end.
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After the battle, the king's horse was found wandering about the battlefield. Nearby,
some of the king's garments were found lying in the mud. It is presumed Rodrigo was
killed during the battle, and that his followers took his body from the field to provide him
with Christian burial at a hidden location. For a time, it was believed the king had not
died in battle but was in hiding awaiting the right moment to return and free Spain from
the Muslim invader. During the ninth century, a headstone was reported to have been
found in a church in Viseo inscribed with the following: "Hic requiescit Rudericus, ultimus
Rex Gothorum" (Here lies Rodrigo, last King of the Goths).
With the defeat of the Visigoth armies and the death of Rodrigo, most armed resistance
to the Muslims disappeared. The Iberian Peninsula lay open to the invaders. There is
reason to believe that Tariq may have been under orders from Musa to consolidate his
gains before advancing further into the peninsula. Orders or not, Tariq saw an
opportunity for leveraging his victory and advanced rapidly into the interior. Encountering
little resistance, he then marched on Toledo and took the Visigoth capital.
In October, Cordoba fell to a contingent of 700 cavalrymen. Tariq wintered his troops in
Toledo.
According to some historians, Musa became envious upon hearing of Tariqls successes,
and decided to take personal command of the field. In July of AD 712, he crossed the
strait with 18,000 men and marched on Seville. After conquering Seville, Musa met the
last pocket of Visigoth resistance at Merida. He laid siege to the city, which fell in June of
AD 713. It was after these events that Musa and Tariq finally met at Talavera on the
Tagus, downriver from Toledo. Legend has it that this meeting between the former
companions of many military campaigns and victories, was not friendly. Musa rebuked
Tariq for disobeying his orders and for taking unnecssary risks. Why did he expose his
limited forces and gains against the resources of an entire nation when he knew that
Musa would be bringing reinforcements that would ensure victory? Musa relieved Tariq
of his command. Tariq was later reinstated on orders of the Caliph of Damascus.
During the following year, Musa occupied Zaragoza and continued extending Muslim
domination throughout the Iberian Peninsula. That year, AD 714, Musa and Tariq were
summoned to present themselves before the Caliph at Damascus. Muza left his son,
Abd al-Aziz, in command of completing the conquest and, in the autumn, departed for
Damascus. Legend tells of the magnificent caravan Muza led across northern Africa
laden with the wealth of conquered Spain and many captives. Once again, the gold of
Spain journeyed to the land of a conqueror. Tariq, traveling with only his battered armor
and a few hardy warriors, arrived in Damascus first where he received a heroe‘s
welcome. Muza arrived in February of AD 715 with all his booty and trophies. He did not
fare well in his meeting with the Caliph who relieved him of his command. In the
meantime, Abd al-Aziz continued to spread Muslim control over Spain until his death by
assassination in AD 716.
Following the natural and political lines of the former Visigoth kingdoms, the Muslims
extended their conquest into southern France. Anticipating substantial booty, the Muslim
forces moved northeast toward Tours and Poitiers. Toward the end of October, AD 732,
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they met at Poitiers with the united forces of the Franks under Eudes, Duke of Aquitaine,
and Charles, Duke of Austrasia. The battle that followed stemmed the flow of Muslim
power in Europe. It raged furiously for seven days with each side returning to the attack
every day.
The Muslim cavalry maneuvered with lightning speed, often catching enemy troops by
surprise. It is said that the Muslim scimitars were of such fine steel and sharpness that a
blow struck across the waist could sever a man in half. The Franks, on the other hand,
were renowned for the thundering power of their cavalry charges, and the awesome
strength of the blows struck by their mighty broadswords. Legend has it that they could
cleave an enemy rider from helmet to saddle with a single stroke. Byzantine emperor
Leo III, who reigned from AD 717 to AD 740, described them as follows: "So formidable is
the charge of the Frankish chivalry with their broadsword, lance, and shield, that it is best
to decline a pitched battle with them till you have put all the chances on your side On the
whole, therefore, it is easier and less costly to wear out a Frankish army by skirmishes,
and protracted operations in desolate districts, and cutting off its supplies, than to attempt
to destroy it at a single blow."
After their successes in Spain and southern France, the Muslims were used to relatively
easy conquests. They did not expect to encounter forces of the magnitude and power of
this enemy. At the far end of their supply lines, the Muslims were hard put to replace lost
equipment and fallen warriors. The Franks, on the other hand, could bring up
reinforcements and military supplies with relative ease. In the end, the Franks outfought
and oulasted the Muslims who withdrew from the battlefield. For his performance in this
crucial battle, Duke Charles was henceforth to be known as Carolus Martelus, Charles
Martel or Charles "The Hammer."
Al-Andalus, as the Muslims called Spain, was only a province of a province, part of a vast
empire that extended from the Pyrenees alI the way across North Africa to the Middle
East and beyond into India. How were the Muslims able to create such a vast empire?
Before Mohammed and the foundation of Islam, the original tribes of Arabia often raided
one another for booty and prisoners. Booty was an important part of the economic
system. When Mohhamad forbade Muslims to war against one another, raids had to be
conducted against the infidel - of which there were many. As nearby peoples were
conquered and converted, it became necessary to range farther afield in search of new
booty. The political and military power vacuum left by the downfall of the Roman and
Persian Empires was quickly filled by the vigorous thrust of Muslim religious zeal and the
need for new conquests.
Originally, all Muslim Arabs were subject to military service, and received payment from
the state. In effect, they constituted a special and superior military caste. Booty obtained
from military victories was sold to merchants, and the proceeds were distributed among
the participants in the raid or campaign. Although lands were normally left in the hands
of those who made them productive, properties abandoned by fleeing owners could be
awarded by the Muslim governor to his followers.
44
For the most part, the Muslims were not interested in physically occupying the lands of
the conquered peoples. Not being farmers, they were happy to leave the production of
food to others, and merely impose such taxes as were needed to support their military
efforts as well as the administration of the conquered territories. For all their religious
zeal, the Muslims did not force the conversion of others. Conquered peoples were
allowed to practice their own religions. There were also practical reasons for this
religious tolerance. Those who converted to Islam did not have to pay a head tax. If too
many of the infidel converted to Islam, the loss of tax revenues would have been great.
The non-Muslim inhabitants of conquered areas were considered "Protected Persons".
Existing local government was generally preserved, and the community leader was
responsible to Muslim authorities for maintaining civic order as well as timely and proper
payment of tribute.
Among the last peoples of North Africa to convert to the Muslim faith were the Berbers.
For the most part nomad tribes, fiercely independent and warlike, the Berbers took well to
a religion born of the desert. To become a Muslim, a non-Arab convert had to become a
"client" of an Arabian tribe. The reason for this policy seems to have originated in the
fact that the Islamic State was conceived as a federation of Arabian tribes. Non-Arab
Muslims were, in effect, second-class citizens; among the military, they received lower
pay than Arabs. This discrimination eventually became a source of discontent among the
Berbers who represented a large majority of the Muslim forces in Spain.
In AD 741, a Berber rebellion broke out in North Africa and spread to Spain. A force of
7,000 Syrian troops was sent across the strait of Gibraltar to quell the rebellion. The
Syrians defeated three Berber columns, and moved on to Cordoba. There, they
deposed the appointed governor, and installed their own commander as governor. The
Berber forces regrouped and atacked the Syrians, but were defeated in a battle in August
of AD 742. Unfortunately - for the Syrians, their commander was killed in this battle. In
the ensuing years, Muslim governors of the Spanish territories were appointed from
Qairwan in Tunis. To remain in power, they sought the support of the Syrians as well as
other factions.
The province of al-Andalus did not report directly to the Caliph of Damascus, but was a
dependency of the governorship of Ifriqiya (Tunis). During the period between AD 716
and AD 756, approximately twenty men occupied the posiiton of governor of al-Andalus.
In AD 717, the capital of the province was moved to Cordoba.
In Damascus, power had resided in the Ummayyad dynasty since AD 661. In AD 750,
the Abbasids came to power and ordered all Umayyad princes slain. One Umayyad
prince, Abd er Rahman, escaped to Morroco. While there, he received an invitation from
a group of Arabs loyal to the Umayyads to come to Spain and lead them. In AD 756, he
was made emir of Cordoba. Shortly afterwards, he defeated an army sent against him by
the Caliph al-Mansur (in Arabic, al-Mansur means 'the Victorious" - obviously, no
guarantee of results).
45
Spain had been racked by civil war among the Muslims, and wars against the Christians.
A time of healing was needed. Abd er Rahman and his successors improved the quality
of life and level of culture in the southern part of the peninsula. They accomplished this
despite the fact that they were constantly busy quelling rebedions among their own
Muslim subjects, fighting border wars against the Christians, and defending the coasts
against raids from the Normans.
In AD 912, Abd er-Rahman III came to power and pacified the lands under his rule. By
this time, the Caliphs in Baghdad (under the Abassids they had moved the capital from
Damascus to Baghdad) had lost much of their power. They had become virtual puppets
of their Turkish guards. Realizing he wielded as much power as any ruler, Abd erRahman declared himself Caliph, Commander of the Faithful, and Defender of the Faith.
Upon his death, he passed on to his descendants a land where peace and security gave
room for cultural and commercial pursuits.
Hakam II, Abd er-Rahman's son, was a scholar at heart. He devoted himself to
beautifying Cordoba and other cities, as well as to improving public institutions, especially
the university at Cordoba. Religious tolerance during the Muslim reign was so great that
Abd er-Rahman's prime minister, a man of great ability, was Hasdai ibn Shaprut, a jew.
The fly in Abd er-Rahman's ointment was Ibn Abi Amir, another able man of noble Arab
family, who headed the Caliph's armies. When Hakam died, Ihn Abi Amir manipulated
the succession process to favor the selection of Hisham II.
A weakling absorbed with the study of theology, Hisham II left the management of the
nation to Ibn Abi Amir. To secure his position and reduce the risk of internal competition,
Ibn Abi Amir followed the old principle of "War in the exterior, peace in the interior", and
took to the field with his army. He defeated the Christians many times in many places,
and even sacked the famous pilgrimage of Santiago de Compostela, leveling its shrine to
the ground, and carrying away its famous bells on the shoulders of Christian captives.
After all these victories he too added the title of ―al Mansur‖ (The Victorious) to his name.
In AD 1002, Ibn Abi Amir died leaving his son, Abd al-Malik, in power. Where his father
had failed, Abd al-Malik succeeded. He united all his subjects. Unfortunately, they
united in their hatred of Abd al-Malik and all of Ibn Abi Amir's family. Abd al-Malik died in
AD 1008.. He was succeeded by his brother who was deposed in AD 1009 by a rebellion.
In the following years, power seesawed back and forth between the many factions.
In AD 1027, Hisham II was reinstated for a brief period. In AD 1031, a council of
community leaders met in Cordoba and abolished the caliphate. Muslim Spain
disintegrated into 31 city states, or Taifas, with essentially independent governments.
The Taifas divided along basically ethnic lines into three groups: Berbers, Slavs (Goths),
and Andalusians (Muslims of Arabian and Iberian origin). The Berbers controlled the
south coast from the Guadalquivir River to Granada. The Slavs conquered some of the
coastal cities to the east, such as Almeria, Tortosa and Valencia. The Andalusians first
conquered Seville, then Cordoba.
46
The fragmentation of al-Andalus provided neighboring Christian kings with opportunities
for conquest. Alfonso VI of Leon and Castile used his power to impose a tribute upon the
Muslim Taifa of Seville. In AD 1085, he conquered Toledo.
It was during this period that Ruy Diaz de Vivar, El Cid Campeador, the legendary
medieval Spanish knight, gained fame as a great Christian warrior. A power in his own
right, El Cid (from the Arabic "Sayyidill‖, meaning ―Lord‖) attracted both Christians and
Muslims to his service. He also fought on either side. To provide booty and pay for his
men, El Cid sometimes resorted to banditry without much care for the religious affiliation
of his victims.
At one time, his troops pillaged Catalonia. The Count of Catalonia, Ramon Berenguer,
took to the field with an army - also composed of Muslims and Christians - to avenge the
wrongs inflicted on him by El Cid. According to the romantic literature of the period,
fighting with only 100 knights at his side El Cid defeated the Catalonian army capturing
the Count and holding him for ransom. Fighting under Alfonso VI of the Kingdom of Leon
and Castile, El Cid incurred the wrath and the distrust of the king. El Cid then offered his
services to the Muslim emir of Zaragoza, conquered the city of Valencia, and ruled there
until his death in AD 1099.
The fall of Toledo to Alfonso VI alarmed the Muslim king of Seville who requested
assistance from Yusuf ibn Tasufin, governor of the powerful Almoravid State in North
Africa. In AD 1086, Tasufin defeated the forces of Alfonso VI near Badajoz. In AD 1091,
Tasufin installed himself as ruler of Seville and Cordoba, later including Granada within
his sphere of power. Yusuf ibn Tasufin established the Almoravid dynasty in Spain. In
AD 1106, he was succeeded by Ali ibn Yusuf.
During Yusuf‘s reign, Alfonso I, the "Battler", of Aragon conquered the city of Zaragoza
(AD 1118) initiating the decline of Muslim power in Spain. In AD 1133, Alfonso VII of
CastiIe also led a successful expedition into Muslim territory. In AD 1143, Ali ibn Yusuf
was succeeded by Tasufin ibn Ali. Popular unrest led to rebellions in AD 1144 and AD
1145, culminating with the fall from power of the last Almoravid.
A period of confusion followed in which the leaders of the various cities gave their
allegiance to either the Christian kings or to the Almohads in North Africa. The founder of
the Almohad Empire, Abd al-Mumin (AD 1130-1163) initiated preparations to extend his
influence to Spain, but died before he could carry out his plans. His successor, Abu
Yaqub Yusuf I (AD 1163-1184), put the plan in practice. In AD 1171, yet another Muslim
military campaign was launched from North Africa, and the Almohads established their
own dynasty in al-Andalus. Yusuf I carried his campaign into Christian territory until his
untimely death from wounds received in the siege of Sanatarem in Portugal.
His successor, Abu Yusuf Yaqub al-Mansur (AD 1184 -1199) distinguished himself by
defeating Alfonso VII of Castile near Alarcos (halfway between Cordoba and Toledo) in
July of AD 1195. This brought a period of relative peace in al-Andalus. The Almohads
47
might have taken advantage of this triumph to extend their influence, but seem to have
lacked the resources to mount the necessary military campaigns. The Christians, on the
other hand, were spurred to greater activity by the defeat and began to prepare for a
"Crusade" against the Muslims. Yaqub died and was succeeded by Muhammad al-Nasir
(AD 1199-1213).
Lacking his father's energy, Muhhamad nevertheless enjoyed the peace bought by his
predecessor's efforts. He enjoyed it, that is, until the Christians went on the offensive. In
July of AD 1212, the joint armies of Leon, Castile, Navarre and Aragon defeated the
Muslim forces at the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa. Muhammad died in AD1213; he was
succeeded by his 15-year-old son, Abu Yaqub Yusuf II, who lived until AD1223, and left
no heirs. In the years that followed, Fernando III of Leon and Castile led a Christian
campaign that conquered Cordoba (AD1236) and Seville (AD1248).
In 1231 AD, Muhammad ibn Yusuf ibn Nasir, a Muslim of Arab descent, founded the
Nasrite kingdom in the mountainous region surrounding the city of Jaen. In AD 1235, he
extended his rule to Granada. Realizing that he lacked the military strength to withstand
the power of the Christian kings, Muhammad I sought the protection of Fernando III of
Leon and Castile by declaring himself to be a vassal of that monarch. Because of this
shrewd political move, dissension among the Christians, and the region's natural
mountain barriers of defense, the Nasrite kindom of Granada, remained independent until
AD 1492 when it fell to the Catholic kings, Fernando and Isabel. During this period
Granada became one of the brightest jewels of Moorish culture in Spain.
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Chapter Three
The Fateful Year of 1492. A Taste of Gold.
January 2, 1492 - The Fall of Granada.
The world is supported by four things:
The learning of the wise,
The justice of the great,
The prayers of the good,
And the valor of the brave.
(Inscription at the entrance to the University
in ancient Muslim Granada.)
Like an emerald set in ice, Granada sits in a broad plain surrounded by snow-capped
mountains. Muslim Granada was beautiful, prosperous, and culturally rich. Ubiquitous
fountains provided refreshing coolness in public squares throughout the city. Mansions
of the aristocracy were spacious, structurally sound, and gracefully designed and
adorned. The women of Granada were renowned for their beauty and grace, and the
men for their valor and honor.
On a hill in the midst of the city, is one of the finest gems of Moorish culture in Spain, the
magnificent palace of the Alhambra. In 889, Qasba al Hamra, fortress on the red hill,
was built on what may have been the ruins of an old Roman fortress. When Muhammad
I established the Nasrite kingdom, he began the reconstruction and enlargement of the
Alcazaba or fortress part of the citadel, which was designed to hold 40,000 men. From
AD1238 through AD1461, additions were made, quarters and palaces built and adorned
with some of the most beautiful samples of Moorish art and craftsmanship.
Nineteenth century American author Washington Irving wrote his wonderful Legends of
the Alhambra in this fantastic setting. Here, in 1492, the surrender of Granada took
place; the last stronghold of Muslim Spain crumbled under pressure from the growing
power of the Christian kingdoms. With the fall of Granada, Spain finally became a nation
under the Catholic Kings, Fernando II of Aragon and Catalonia, and Isabel of Castile and
Leon.
In many ways, the history of Muslim Spain reflects the old Arab adage: "My brother and I
against the world. My cousin and I against my brother." To the end, Muslim Spain was
its own worst enemy. Rivalries that began in the Middle East had their repercussions in
Spain. Given the divisions among families, tribes, nationalities, and cities, it is a wonder
that the Muslim kingdoms of Spain lasted as long as they did.
49
For the most part, the Christian kingdoms were too busy with their own internal strife to
take advantage of the weaknesses of their Moorish neighbors. It may also be that the
lessons of history were not totally lost on some of the Christian sovereigns. Perhaps,
they chose to delay action until the ties between Granada and North Africa weakened to
the point where another Muslim invasion of Spain would no longer be likely.
Since its earliest days, the Nasrite kingdom had declared itself vassal to the Christian
king of Castile. In AD1466, Emir Ali abu al-Hassan (1464-1485) refused to continue
paying tribute to Enrique IV of Castile. Enrique IV was too busy with the pleasures of
royalty to enforce his rights. Enrique's contemporaries referred to him as "El Impotente‖ The Impotent One. It is not clear whether the nickname was a comment on his rulership
or his sexual powers. Enrique's half sister, Isabel, married Fernando II of Aragon in AD
1469..
In AD1474, Enrique died, and Isabel became Queen of Castile. Sovereigns of a different
stripe than the ineffectual Enrique, Fernando and Isabel soon sent envoys to Granada to
demand resumption of the tribute. Ali abu al-Hassan sealed Granada's fate by replying:
"Tell your sovereigns that the kings of Granada who paid tribute are dead. Our mint now
coins nothing but sword blades!" Reckless Ali then added further provocation in AD
1481, by raiding the Christian town of Zahara, and taking its inhabitants to Granada as
slaves. In AD1482, the Christians responded by taking the Moorish stronghold of Alama,
thus beginning the campaign that would end in AD1492 with the fall of Granada.
Granada was no exception to the rule of dissension within the Moslem kingdoms.
Rivalries between the Ziri and the Abencerraje families kept the city in constant turmoil.
Claiming a conspiracy against him, Emir Ah abu al Hassan beheaded sixty-six members
of the Abencerraje family in the Alhambra.
Another factor contributing to unrest within Granada was the line of succession to the
throne. The emir's wife, known as Ayeesha la Horra, delivered a son named abuAbdallah Muhammad who was the heir. Ali fell in love with and married a Christian
captive reputed to be of noble birth; renamed Zoraya, she gave the emir two sons.
Zoraya was an ambitious woman, and desired her sons to be the heirs to the throne.
According to legend, she filled the emir with tales of conspiracy and unfaithfulness among
his concubines, especially Ayeesha. Ali reacted by putting several of his concubines and
their children to death. Ayeesha was put on trial for infidelity and imprisoned with her son
in one of the towers of the Alhambra.
Fearing for her son's safety, Ayeesha helped him escape by lowering him to the ground
on a rope made from the waistbands of her garments and those of her slaves. The
young man, referred to as Boabdil, fled to the city of Guadix. Ayeesha, a woman of
strength, later roused the populace. Especially active in the uprising were the people
living in the quarter adjacent to the Alhambra which is still known as the Albaicin. Under
Ayeesha‘s leadership, they deposed Ali who fled to Malaga. Boabdil was made emir.
Seeking to take advantage of the confusion and division within the Nasrite kingdom, a
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Christian army marched on Malaga. The army was crushed by troops loyal to Ali. Not
wanting to be any less audacious than his father, Boabdil and his army confronted a
Christian force at Lucena. Boabdil was defeated and taken prisoner. He gained his
release by agreeing to assist the Christians in their struggle against his father, and by
paying them a yearly tribute of 12,000 ducats.
In Boabdil‘s absence, his uncle, Abu abd-Ali, also called ―Az-Zaghral‖ or The Valiant,
declared himself Emir of Granada. During the ensuing three-way struggle for the throne,
Boabdil‘s father died. Boabdil regained the Alhambra, and Al-Zaghral, The Valiant,
holed up in Guadix. From there, he attacked Christians as often as he could. Boabdil
then repudiated his commitment to the Christian kings, and prepared to defend Granada
from their inevitable onslaught.
The Catholic monarchs wasted no time in making their power felt. Christian armies
began the devastation of the farmlands that supplied Granada, destroying granaries,
vineyards, olive and orange groves. Malaga was placed under siege and isolated from
Granada. The attack on Malaga was mounted by land and by sea. Muslim chroniclers of
the period describe the terrible siege:
"The inhabitants defended themselves bravely with artillery, and frequent sallies on foot
and horse. The siege proceeded with growing vigor, and the resistance with equal ardor
and constancy. Deep trenches were dug around the city by the besiegers, with earthen
walls and palisades, and more war vessels were added to the sea blockade. Supplies
soon began to dwindle. The inhabitants were forced to eat camels, horses, asses,
mules, dogs, leather, and even the leaves on the trees."
No quarter was given to the defenders and, by mid-August of AD 1487, they were forced
into unconditional surrender. The surviving 12,000 defenders were sold into slavery.
The wealthy were allowed to ransom themselves by forfeiting all their belongings.
On ApriI 22, AD1491, the armies of the Catholic sovereigns laid waste to the lands in the
immediate vicinity of the capital of Granada. A complete city, called Santa Fe,
surrounded by trenches and walls, was built outside Granada to house the Christian
armies. The siege lasted more than seven months. At the end, approaching starvation,
leaders of the community approached Boabdil to request he initiate negotiations with the
Christians for the surrender of the city. Boabdil replied: "Do what you will, and take the
path that best suits your welfare."
The capitulation, containing 67 articles, was signed by Boabdil November 25 of AD 1491.
The terms were extremely generous by the standards of the times, especially so
considering that Fernando was rarely - if ever - magnanimous. The people of Granada
were allowed to keep their property, their language, customs and religion as well as their
laws and magistrates. Taxes were suspended for three years and would then only be
those that had existed under Muslim rulers. Those who wished to leave would be
allowed to do so - with transportation provided to take them to Africa.
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Despite the generous surrender terms, or because of them, many Granadines suspected
Boabdil of having conspired with Fernando from the time of his capture at Lucena to
deliver the city to the Christians.
The Fall of Granada
On January 2, 1492, BoabdiI turned over the keys of the city to Fernando. His life in
peril, Boabdil left the city accompanied by his relatives and a party of some fifty
horsemen under protection of the Christian army. From the heights near Alpujarra, as he
ascended the mountain range that surrounds Granada, BoabdiI turned to take one last
look at his beautiful city. That summit is still called ―El Ultimo Suspiro del Moro‖, The Last
Sigh of the Moor. BoabdiI wept at his loss. Ayeesha, ever the stern mother, rebuked
him. "Weep not like a woman for what you could not defend as a man."
Thus, 781 years after Tariq defeated King Rodrigo, Muslim rule in Spain ended. The
crusade that had lasted eight centuries came to an end. Spain was finally a nation. The
men who had lived in a tradition of endless warfare would now look outwards - beyond
the boundaries of their country for new conquests.
Among those present in the Christian camp at the time of the surrender was the man who
would open up a whole new world to conquer: Christopher Columbus.
52
Columbus and the Taste of Gold.
Some years seem to have greater impact upon historical events than others; 1492 was
such a year. So was 1451; that year, Columbus, Amerigo Vespuccio, and Queen Isabel
of Castile were born. That same year Mohammed II, future conqueror of Constantinople,
became sultan of the Ottoman Empire. Of these, one would make voyages of discovery
necessary by the closing off the Middle East to the Christian world; another would create
a nation strong enough to support the effort of discovery; and the third was destined to be
the instrument of discovery of a new world. Between them, they would change the
course of history and the shape of the world.
Cristoforo Colombo, was born in Genoa to a middle class wool weaver, Domenico
Colombo, and his wife, Susana. It is a curious coincidence that the name Christopher,
which means Bearer of Christ, was given to the man who was destined to do just that by
bringing Christianity to the New World.
Genoa and Venice were the great sea powers of the age. In Genoa, young Columbus
grew up in an environment rich in tales and legends of seafarers and their voyages of
adventure. Talk of strange lands and sights were the daily spice of Genoan
conversation. Stories were told of many more wonders to be discovered and
experienced by men of daring and courage. According to his own statements, Columbus
made his first sea voyage at the age of ten. The lure of the sea was too great; at
fourteen Columbus became a mariner.
In 1476, at the age of 25, destiny awaited him off the shores of Portugal. Columbus
sailed as a seaman on a Flemish vessel, the Bechalla, part of an armed Genoese convoy
of five ships. Sponsored by the powerful Spinola and DiNegro families of Genoa, the
convoy carried a valuable shipment destined for England. After passing through the
Strait of Gibraltar on August 13th, the convoy was attacked by a French pirate fleet.
Before the day was over, seven ships were sunk, four French and three Genoese,
including the Bechalla. Columbus was wounded in the action, but managed to hold on to
an oar and make his way to shore near Lagos, Portugal. Serendipitously, Bartholomew,
Columbus's younger brother, was living in Lisbon at the time. After recovering from his
shipwreck and wound, Christopher joined his brother in Lisbon.
Lisbon was the right place for a mariner to be at this time. After Henry the Navigator's
efforts to convert Portugal into a seagoing nation, Lisbon had become a center of traffic
for voyages ranging from the Gold Coast of Africa to Iceland. At the time of his arrival in
Portugal, Christopher spoke only Genoese, and could neither read nor write. After
mastering Portuguese, he learned to read and write in that language. The Colombo
brothers went into the chart making-business. They not only thrived, but also developed
a wealth of information that would later serve Christopher well in his voyages to the West.
In 1477, Christopher shipped as a seaman aboard a vessel that called at Galway in
Ireland. While he was there, a drifting boat was found with two bodies in it. The Irish
53
thought the dead men were Chinese, but they may have been Laplanders. Columbus's
ship sailed on to Iceland where tales were told of Leif Ericsson's discovery of a land to
the west called Vinland. The Iclelanders spoke of the strange inhabitants of Vinland, the
Skraelings (probably North American native tribes or Eskimos), whose features were said
to resemble those of the Chinese. A little further to the West, European fisherman may
already have been fishing off the banks of Newfoundland, not knowing they were that
close to a completely new world.
The restless mind of the tall red headed Genoan probably began to tie this information
together with comments heard from Portuguese mariners. Tired of sailing the feverridden coasts of Africa, they wished for a way west by sailing beyond the Azores to the
fabled treasures of the Orient. Columbus‘s imagination was further fired by the remarks
of a Portuguese pilot, Martin Vicente, regarding a hand-carved object found some 1,400
miles to the west of Cape Saint Vincent, in southern Portugal, where no lands were
known to exist.
In 1479, Columbus married Doña Felipa Perestrello e Moriz, daughter of Bartholomeu
Perestrello, a Portuguese seafarer from Porto Santo in the Madeira Islands off the
Atlantic coast of Morocco. Doña Felipa was also the granddaughter of Gil Moriz who
served under Prince Henry the Navigator. While in Lisbon, Columbus had access to the
Perestrellos' logbooks and charts, and probably spent many hours pouring over them.
Later, sent by the Genoese Centurione and DiNegro families to represent them in
Madeira, Columbus and his young wife moved to Porto Santo. Their son Diego was born
there. They then moved to the port of Funchal on the main island of Madeira. From this
port, Columbus sailed more than once to the Gold Coast of Africa, probably to Sao Jorge
da Mina (Elmina) on the Gold Coast. While at Madeira, Columbus became acquainted
with stories of objects that floated ashore from the west, among them some that seemed
carved by the hand of man.
On his voyages to the south past the Canary and Cape Verde Islands on the way to
Elmina, Columbus took careful note of the prevailing direction of the winds at the different
times of the year. He wondered how they might be used to sail to the west.
Enjoying the power of his newly developed literacy, Columbus began to read voraciously
about navigation and ways to the Orient. He read The Book of Ser Marco Polo in which
Cipangu (Japan) was described as being 1,500 miles east of China. In 1474, a
Florentine man of learning, Paolo dal Pozzo Toscanelli, physician, astronomer and
mathematician, had written to a friend in Portugal encouraging him to persuade King
Affonso V to organize an expedition to sail west to Japan and China. He believed the
distance between Portugal and Hangchow, China, to be 5,000 miles. Hearing of the
existence of this letter, Columbus wrote to Tosacanelli who responded with a letter of
encouragement and a chart.
Based on various estimates, including that of Marco Polo, of the size of the combined
land masses of Europe and Asia, Columbus concluded that the distance between the
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Canary Islands and Japan was only 2,400 nautical miles. These land mass estimates
were grossly exaggerated; as a result, Japan appeared to be approximately where Cuba
can be found. The actual distance from the Canary Islands to Japan is over four times
greater, 10,600 miles.
Columbus returned to Lisbon and, in 1484, decided to approach King Joao II, nephew of
Henry the Navigator, with the concept of a voyage to Cipangu by sailing to the west. The
king prudently submitted the matter to review by a committee composed of two Jewish
physicians, and a distinguished cleric, knowledgeable in matters of navigation. In 1485,
the committee rejected Columbus' project. The reason for the rejection is not known, but
it is possible that differences of opinion regarding the distances involved may have
affected the decision. It was not a good year for Columbus. That same year, Doña
Felipa died in Lisbon.
Shortly afterwards, the king gave permission to two Portuguese explorers, Dulmo and
Estreito, to seek a route by sailing west from the Azores. The permission was granted on
the condition that they do so at their own expense. This was something Columbus could
not and would not do. The explorers set forth in 1487, in search of the mythical isle of
Antilia. The island was believed to be somewhere to the west between Europe and the
next land mass. Running into contrary winds, and battered by heavy seas, they turned
back to Portugal.
Spain
With nothing left to tie him to Portugal, Columbus decided to try his luck in Spain. He
journeyed to Huelva where his wife's sister, who was married to a Spaniard, lived.
Landing at the port of Palos de Noguer, he saw a monastery on a height. Known as the
Franciscan friary of Santa Maria de La Rabida, the monastery accepted students as
boarders. After a four-mile walk with his five-year old son, Diego, Columbus arrived at
the monastery. Knocking at the gate, he asked for water for himself and some bread for
the boy.
Coincidence again favored Columbus. While he was at the gate, Antonio de Marchena, a
Franciscan monk who had studied astronomy, engaged him in conversation. Marchena
wrote to the queen's confessor, Friar Hernando de Talavera, requesting the right to
petition the royal council, which made recommendations to the crown. While Columbus
was awaiting a reply to Marchena‘s letter, Diego was accepted at the monastery. During
that time, Columbus also received an introduction to the Count of Medina Celi, a
nobleman and shipowner residing in Seville. After hearing about Columbus's Project of
Indies, the Count was ready to finance the cost of the three or four caravels requested.
Before proceeding, however, he decided to seek permission from the Queen. Isabel
refused to approve the enterprise on the basis that so important an endeavor ought to be
conducted by the state.
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One of the ablest sovereigns of the time, Isabel was a handsome woman, fair skinned,
blue eyed with auburn hair. A devout Catholic, she was well educated, disciplined,
courageous, and hard working.
At that time, the Spanish court traveled constantly throughout the realm. Columbus had
to wait until it reached nearby Cordoba before he could gain audience with the Queen.
This took almost a year from the date of his arrival in Spain. In the fashion of monarchs,
the Queen appointed a committee under the direction of her confessor, Friar Hernando
de Talavera, to study the matter. By Christmas of 1486, the committee, meeting in
Salamanca, could not reach an agreement. Once again, the stumbling block was the
estimated distance to Cipangu. In early 1487, the committee awarded Columbus a
retainer of 12,000 maravedis per year. It was equal to the pay of an able seaman, in
other words, not much.
By 1488, Columbus was already 42. Graying, thin, with a ruddy complexion, and aquiline
features, he was not an unattractive man. While in Cordoba, he frequented the places
where amateur scientists and navigators met. Through one of these, Diego de Harana,
he met Beatriz Enriquez, Harana‘s cousin. She became his mistress and, in August of
1488, bore him a son, Fernando.
With no news from the Queen's committee, Columbus decided to approach King Joao II
of Portugal one more time. The king invited him to an audience. Columbus arrived in
Lisbon in December of 1488, just as Bartholomeu Dias returned from successfully
rounding Africa and opening up the sea route to India. This time, coincidence did not
favor Columbus. His timing could not have been worse. With an open route to India by
way of the Cape of Good Hope, the king was no longer interested in a western route.
Shortly after New Year of 1489, Columbus returned to Spain to try once more at the court
of the Catholic Kings. His brother, Bartholomew, sold the chartmaking business and
travelled to England to enlist the aid of Henry VII in the Indies Enterprise. Henry VII, who
is considered the father of the English navy, was not interested. Bartholomew then
journeyed to France where he gained the favor of Anne de Beaujeu, sister of King
Charles VIII. King Charles was only 19 at the time and, while friendly to Bartholomew,
had too many other concerns to focus on voyages of exploration.
Back in Spain, Columbus waited as patiently as an impatient man of action could under
the circumstances. He fretted, but he also studied. For years, the book he kept at his
side, and filled with hundreds of notes, was the Imago Mundi, a geography written
some time around 1410 by a French theologian and astrologer, Pierre d'Ailly. He
also read the Historia Rerum Ubique Gestarum, written in 1477 by Pope Pius II
(Aeneas Sylvius), which he also filled with numerous notes.
Enroute to the Queens court, which was with the army laying siege to the Muslim city of
Baza, Columbus received support from Isabel by means of a letter she sent all local
56
officials ordering them to lodge and feed him during his journey there. There is a
possibility that Columbus may actually have served in the Spanish army during this
period.
In 1490, the Queen's commission turned down Columbus' proposal. It was felt that the
estimates of distance and time were unrealistic. The Atlantic Ocean was probably
greater than Columbus proposed, and the journey would in all probability take much
longer than he anticipated. Geographically, the commission was right and Columbus was
wrong. If, however, Cipangu had been where Columbus estimated it to be, he
undoubtedly would have found it. Instead, the New World was in that location, almost
exactly where Columbus predicted a land mass would be found. Had the American land
mass not been where Columbus supposed Cipangu to be, he and his men would have
never made it across the 10,600 miles to the Orient. Their supplies and fortitude would
have run out long before reaching that fabled shore.
The Queen didn't allow Columbus's hopes to be totally dashed; she promised he would
be allowed to apply again, once the war with the inftdel was over. By 1491, Columbus
was ready to give up hope and journey to France to join his brother in petitioning that
King for assistance. He stopped by the monastery at La Rabida to pick up his son,
Diego. Fray Juan Perez, the prior of the monastery, persuaded him to try one more
time, and wrote to the Queen arranging another audience. The Queen sent Columbus
20,000 maravedis for good clothes and a mule to journey to the court, which was now at
the siege city of Santa Fe outside of Granada. Columbus was at Granada that fated
morning of January 2,1492, when the standard of the Catholic Kings was raised above
the ramparts of what up to that moment had been the last Moorish stronghold in Spain.
By now, Columbus was nearly fed up with all the delays, rejections, contradictions,
humiliations, and frustrations of the long process of courting the favor of the mighty for so
noble a purpose. Determined to not give away his services and discoveries, he
increased his demands. Originally, he was willing to make the trip for just the cost of his
expenses. He now insisted he be given the title of Admdmiral, that he become governor
and viceroy of such new lands as he might discover, that these titles be transferable to Its
descendants, and that he should recieve 10 percent of all trade. A new commission
approved the concept of the voyage, but the Royal Council rejected it on the basis of his
exaggerated demands. The news was communicated to Columbus in an audience with
the Queen and the King.
57
Isabella I
That was it! Angry and disappointed, Columbus packed his bags, mounted his mule, and
headed out of Granada with the firm intention of joining his brother in France. At this
point, Luis de Santangel, the King's finance minister, approached the Queen with the
suggestion that Columbus be allowed to try out his concept. He argued the voyage
would be of small cost compared to some of the court‘s normal expenses. Columbus'
demands, he pointed out, were also small compared to the benefits the nation would reap
from his success. In addition, there was the opportunity to convert Asia to Christianity.
Finally, he offered to finance the enterprise lamself with the aid of friends. A messenger
was sent after Columbus, who was passing through a village four miles away when he
received the good news. Contrary to popular legend, the Queen did not pledge her
jewels to finance the voyage. Santangel borrowed 1,400,00 maravedis, and put up
350,000 out of his own pocket. Columbus raised another 250,000* in loans and pledges.
The government later repaid all private contributions to the enterprise.
* To develop some sort of equivalency between coinages of the period and a modern
standard, approximately 145 maravedis of 1492 would equate to one U.S. gold standard
dollar of 1934. The two million maravedis equal approximately U.S. $13,793 (1934
dollars ). It doesnt sound like much but, in their respective days, the 1492 maravedis and
the 1934 dollar carried a lot of purchasing power.
Now began the work of translating the project into the tough details of reality. A contract
had to be entered into between the sovereigns and Columbus. On April 17, 1492, the
contract or Capitulaciones (Capitulations) was signed stipulating that Columbus would
sail forth ―to discover and acquire certain islands and mainlands in the Ocean Sea" - as
the Atlantic was called. In keeping with his harder bargaining position, Columbus was
also to receive 10 percent of all gold, gems, spices and other merchandise* produced or
58
traded within those domains (that Columbus insisted all this be tax free is another sign
that he was a man ahead of his times). He would also be entitled to invest up to one
eighth in any ship going to the reglon. Columbus would receive the titles of Admiral,
Viceroy and Governor of the lands he might discover. The offices and emoluments would
pass on to his heirs and successors "forever." He was given three letters of introduction
to potentates of the East; one to the Grand Khan of Cathay (Emperor of China) and two
with blanks to filled with the appropiate names and titles of yet unknown sovereigns to
whom he might wish to present them.
* Upon his arrival in the New World, Columbus lost no time in organizing the search for
gold and valuable items of trade. His intensity in seeking the source of the little gold
found among the natives of the first islands discovered, may have been a sign of his
desire to finally begin making up for the years of waiting and deprivation -- or it may have
been just plain greed.
The fleet of three caravels and 90 men was to be fitted out and recruited at Palos de
Moguer. Why there? It seems the port city of Palos had incurred a debt with the crown
through some earlier misdemeanor or misbehavior, and would do penance by paying a
fine consisting of two well-equipped caravels. Columbus may not have ingratiated
himself with the people of Palos. He showed up there on Sunday, May 23 of 1492, at the
church of San Jorge, where a notary read aloud the royal order stating that, within ten
days, two caravels with full crews and four months advance pay were to be supplied.
In any country, outfitting and manning two ships in 10 days would have been at least
unlikely; in Spain it was impossible. That the effort was accomplished within three
months speaks well of all parties involved. Having been promised three caravels, not
two, Columbus chartered a ship then in port and owned by Juan de la Cosa, the Santa
Maria. Nicknamed ―La Gallega‖ (the Galician) because she came from the province of
Galicia, he found her worthy enough to become his flagship. Another vessel, a small
caravel, the Santa Clara was nicknamed ―La Niña‖ because she was owned by the Niño
family. The Niña became Columbus' favorite, and took part in his second and third
voyages. The third ship, La Pinta, is believed to have been named after a former owner
by the name of Pinto.
It is not true that Columbus was forced to man his ships with prisoners and hardened
criminals. Of the total complement of the three vessels, only four men were released
from prison under an amnesty for volunteering to sail with the expedition. All four of
these men are listed in the roster of the Santa Maria, which was captained by Columbus.
One wonders if Martin Alonso Pinzón, captain of the Pinta, and Vincente Yañez Pinzon,
captain of the Niña, were less trusting than Columbus about the quality of these seamen.
As it turned out, all four served well on the first and other voyages to the New World.
According to one authority, a seaman listed in the Santa Maria‘s roster as Guillermo Ires,
may have been an Irishman from Galway by the name of William Harris or Penrise.
Whoever he was, Ires, Harris, or Penrise, he was among those who volunteered to stay
59
at Villa Navidad on Hispaniola after the Santa Maria floundered on a reef. Those men
were killed by the natives before Columbus returned on his second voyage.
The Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria
The fleet sailed from Palos half an hour before dawn on Friday, August 3, 1492, to take
advantage of high tide, and pass the sandbar at Saltes at the mouth of the Odiel-Tinto
rivers. Sailing on the same tide was the last of the ships carrying Jews expelled from
Spain by edict of the Catholic sovereigns. The deadline for their departure had been
August 2; those who remained would either convert to Christianity or be executed. The
expelled Spanish Sephardic Jews were dispersed to many locations throughout the
Mediterranean world. Some established residence in Istanbul (formerly Constantinople),
and from there later emigrated to Columbus's New World, specifically to New York where
to this day they still speak a form of archaic Spanish.
Throughout Columbus's life there is an interesting thread of coincidence regarding Jews
and their influence. To begin with, there is substantial evidence to the effect that
Columbus may have been of Jewish origin, that is, from a family of converted Jews.
Converted Jews helped Columbus many times. Luis de Santangel, the finance minister
who persuaded Isabel to support Columbus, was a converted Jew, as were Isaac
Abrabanel, Juan Cabrero, and Abraham Senior who also backed his cause with the
throne. Much of the money borrowed to finance the expedition may have been supplied
by Jews. Luis de Torres who served on the Santa Maria as an interpreter because of his
knowledge of Arabic (it was thought this language would serve to communicate with the
inhabitants of Cipangu and Cathay) was also a converted Jew.
By sunset on the third of August, the fleet had sailed 45 miles south. After dark,
Columbus altered course southwest for the Canary Islands. Columbus wisely decided to
avoid the course taken by Dulmo and Estreito, westward from the Azores into the North
Atlantic, with its contrary winds and stormy seas. On Monday, August 6, the Pinta‘s
rudder came loose from its socket. Columbus believed this was not an accident, but an
intentional effort on the part of the owner of the caravel, Cristobal Quintero, and a
seaman by the name of Gomez Rascon, both from Palos, who had been against the trip
from the beginning. Fortunately, Martin Alonso Pinzón, the captain of the Pinta, was a
60
resourceful man and managed to temporarily repair the rudder by rigging it with ropes.
Columbus ordered Pinzon to sail to the port of Las Palmas on the island of Grand Canary
to effect repairs, while he would take the Santa Maria and the Niña to the island of
Gomera for supplies and fresh water.
Columbus was unable to reach Gomera untii the 12th, first because of contrary winds,
and later because of calm seas. By August 24th, no word had arrived from Pinzón, and
the crew was becoming restless, so Columbus set saii for Las Palmas, a distance of 105
miles as the crow flies. That night as the ships passed Tenerife, which is in between
Gomera and Grand Canary, the volcano on that island erupted in a fiery display. Many of
the men were frightened. Columbus calmed them by explaining the natural causes of the
eruption, and describing similar phenomena he had observed on Mount Etna in Sicily.
On August 25th, Columbus arrived at Las Palmas to discover that nothing had been done
to repair the rudder. Again, he attributed this to the two disaffected seamen from Palos.
In his log, he wrote that he had determined that the most efficient solution was to make a
new rudder for the Pinta. He also decided that the Niña should be square-rigged as the
other ships, and ordered the lateen sails altered. This would enable the Niña to follow
the other ships more closely and safely in the belt of the easterhes, the winds that blow
steadily from the east or north east every day of the year. A square-rigged ship would
have every advantage in those lattitudes.
He planned to return from the Indies with the westerly winds, which he had observed
firsthand in the winter along the coast of of Portugal and Galicia. Earlier, when he sailed
to England with the Portuguese, he learmed that the westerlies blow year-round in the
higher lattitudes and are as dependable as the easterhes, but in the opposite direction.
This entry shows how much Columbus had learmed from experience and observation,
and how he intended to apply his knowledge.
On Friday, August 31st, the refitted and repaired fleet set sail for Gomera to replenish
supplies used up during the stay at Las Palmas. On Sunday, September 2th, the fleet
arrived at Gomera and began taking on supplies. On Gomera, Columbus met doña
Beatriz de Pedraza y Bobadilla, the beautiful young widow of the former captain of the
island. Columbus is said to have been quite taken with her charm and beauty. Although
he did not lengthen his stay at Gomera, he did revisit the island and dona Beatriz on his
second voyage.
Just before noon on Thursday, September 6th, the fleet finajly sailed west into the
Atlantic. Columbus was eager to leave the area. Earlier that morning, he had heard
from the captain of a vessel arriving from the island of Hierro, 45 miles to the south of
Gomera, that a Portuguese squadron of three vessels was in the viicinity with orders to
prevent him from leaving the Canaries. For the next two days, little progress was made
because of calms and problems with the Santa Maria taking in too much water forward.
On September 9th, they finally lost sight of land. Many of the men wept fearing they
would not see it again in a long while. Most of the seamen had seldom been on voyages
61
lasting more than a week. By this time, they had already been away from home for more
than a month.
The fleet sailed west steadilly for 11 days, covering somewhere between 1,200 and 1,300
miles according to Columbus' estimates. As he entered the distance travelled each day
in the record, Columbus intentionally understated it so the men would not fear for their
safe return home. For days the fleet ran before the wind on seas of glass. It was a good
time for seamen. They were comforted by warm, invigorating breezes, great sailing
weather, and the spectacle of porpoises swimming in and out of the bow‘s wake. A few
days out of the Canaries, presumably because of the salty sea air, even their body lice
shriveled up and died. The men were about as happy as they would let themselves be in
the knowledge that, with each mile of running before the wind, they journeyed further
away from home.
By Monday, September 24th, Columbus' entry into his log shows he knew he was in
trouble with the crew. Although there had been slgns of land, such as floating weeds and
sightings of land birds, the men feared they had gone too far already. They questioned
the value of endangering their lives to pursue the dreams of a mad foreigner. There was
talk of throwing Columbus overboard in the dark of night if he persisted too much longer.
After all who would miss a foreigner of little account? Most of the men on all three ships
were from Palos. To them, Columbus was not only an outsider but a foreign one at that.
Columbus had a few men he felt he could rely on, but could not be sure how much they
would help him to maintain control of the crew. The capable but ambitious Martin Alonso
Pinzón wanted the rewards and honors of the voyage for himself. For all his defects, he
was from Palos and the men trusted him. Columbus had to walk a fine line between
acknowledging Pinzón's leadership and glving up his own to get support.
On Monday, October 1st, Columbus estimated they had journeyed 2,121 miles. On
October 7th, a false land sighting raised hopes - and then dashed them. On October 10th
they had been traveling 69 days; the crew told Columbus they could stand it no longer.
He promised that, if they dldn‘t sight land within three days, he would turn back. By now,
however, signs of the nearness of landfall were becoming evident to all. Branches and
weeds, some with flowers, were spotted with increasing frequency. Columbus knew they
were close to land.
At two o'clock on the moonlit morning of Thursday October 12th, 71 days after leaving
Palos de Moguer, Rodrigo de Triana, the lookout on the Pinta, saw something resembling
white cliffs in the distance and gave the cry ―TIERRA! TIERRA!" (―LAND HO‖). Martin
Alonso Pinzón verified Triana‘s observation, and fired a cannon, the prearranged signal
for the sighting of land.
62
The New World. Gateway To Gold.
The great adventure begins.
At dawn on that Friday, October 12th, 1492, the fleet sailed around the windward side of
the island and anchored on the southwest near an opening in the reef. The men pointed
excitedly at the naked natives they could see standing on the beach. Columbus went
ashore in the flagship boat, followed by the captains of the two other ships in their
respective boats. They waded through the warm, clear waters to the beach where they
fell to their knees and offered a prayer of thanksgiving. Columbus then asked the
captains, the secretary and the comptroller of the fleet to bear witness as he took
possession of this island in the name of their majesties Fernando and IsabeL The
secretary wrote down aIl the declarations and testimonies. Columbus named the island
San Salvador, Holy Savior. He had discovered the Bahamas.
The identity of the specific island has been the subject of debate for many years;
recently, evidence has come to light that suggests Samana Cay, 75 miles to the south of
the island today called San Salvador, may have been the original San Salvador. There is
an opening in the reef on the southwest side of the island, as described in Columbus‘s
log.
Soon, Columbus and his men were visited by the inhabitants of the island; they called it
Guanahani in their language. They were Tainos, a branch of the Arawaks. Men, women,
and children, all naked, surrounded the landing party offering gifts and signs of friendship.
Columbus described them as tall (by Spanish standards of the time), well formed, with
good, straight legs and no paunches. He referred to them as friendly and welldispositioned people who bore no arms except for small spears. He commented on the
fact that they had no iron. When Columbus showed his sword to one of the Tainos, he
grabbed it by the blade and cut himself.
Columbus immediately tried to find out if there was any gold. A few natives wore smaIl
nosepieces of gold. Using sign language, Columbus interpreted instructions to seek an
island to the south where, according to the Tainos, there was a 'king ―who had large
amounts of gold. He asked the Tainos to provide him with a guide, but they were
unwilling.
63
The invasion of America.
On October 14th, Columbus made a statement in
his log that set an ominous tone for the future of
the friendly natives of the New World: ―These
people are very unskilled in arms. With 50 men
you could subject everyone and make them do
what you wished." To prove his point, he then
The Santa Maria, Columbus's flagship
took seven men captive from the island to serve
as guides. We refer to October 12th of October as the "Discovery of America.‖
Columbus's initial actions set the pattern for what might more appropriately be termed,
―The Invasion of America."
With the Taino prisoners aboard, Columbus set sail for the next island, which he named
Santa Maria de la Concepción. He anchored near the island hoping to find out if there
was any gold there. The Tainos from San Salvador told him that people on this island
wore large golden bracelets on their arms and legs. Perhaps based on his experience in
Africa, Columbus shrewdly detected a pattern here that was to repeat itself in most
contacts between Spaniards and natives. He said: "I really did not believe them, but
think they made up the tale in order to get me to put ashore so that they could escape."
Throughout the conquest of the New World, the natives, who constantly warred among
themselves before and after the arrival of the Europeans, quickly recognized the Spanish
lust for gold. They often invented stories of large amounts of gold held by other tribes, in
the hope of getting rid of the Spaniards and their enemies at the same time.
The third island discovered by Columbus was christened Fernandina in honor of King
Fernando. He regretted that there were many things about Fernandina that he would
probably never know because he had to move on to discover other islands and find gold.
It is obvious Columbus felt pressured to find some proof of the promised wealth from his
Enterprise of Indies. On Fernandina, he heard of an island called Samoet, "where the
gold is.'' On the next island, which he christened Isabela, he heard about the islands of
Colba (Cuba) and Bohio (Hispaniola). According to the Tainos, there he would find
many great ships and navigators". Columbus believed the islands might turn out to be
Cipangu and, perhaps, the mainland of Asia.
On Sunday, October 28th, the fleet reached Cuba entering Bahia Bariay in what today is
the province of Oriente. In his log, Columbus stated he had never seen anything so
beautiful. He seems to have had a special preference for the name San Salvador, which
he gave to both the harbor and the river at this location. The Guanahani (the first San
Salvador) captives on board the Santa Maria, told him pearls could be found in Cuban
waters. In the interior, which they referred to as Cubanacan (Columbus chose to believe
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this was the local name for El Gran Can - The Great Khan), they said there were gold
mines. They also said that ships from Cubanacan frequented this site, and that the
mainland was only 10 days away.
On the following morning, Monday, October 29th, the fleet sailed westward and passed
another river which Columbus called Rio de Mares. At this location, he heard tales about
a powerful chieftain whom he assumed was the Great Knan. The local natives told him
they were at war with this king, whose name and country kept changing in Columbus' log.
It is evident that interpreting native languages proved far more difficult than anticipated.
The preconceptions of Columbus and his men further distorted native statements.
By Friday, November 2nd, the pressure was becoming too great. Eager to produce
results, Columbus hungered for more information. He decided to send an embassy into
the interior to find the Great Khan. The emissaries were to be two Spaniards and two
natives. Luis de Torres, the linguist who spoke Hebrew, Chaldean and some Arabic, and
Rodrigo de Jerez from Ayamonte (who had once met an African tribal king), set out with
one of the Guanahani Tainos and a native from the local village. Columbus instructed his
men on the proper ways to deal with royalty (having had more experience than he
probably wanted in this category). They were to convey messages of friendship and to
ask for information about the area. They were to accomplish their mission and return
within six days.
While waiting for the emissaries to return, Columbus and his men devoted themselves to
exploring and learning as much as they could about the local area. One of the Pinta‘s
seamen reported seeing a native carrying cinnamon and pepper. Determined to find
some profitable outcome from this trip, Columbus questioned the native. The seaman
had been mistaken; there was no cinnamon or pepper. Columbus showed the native
samples of these spices he had brought from Spain. The answer was predictable: "A
great deal can be found to the southeast". Not one to give up easily, Columbus also
showed him gold. Again, he was told that the natives of Bohio, to the southeast, wore
Nuzay (their name for gold) around their necks and on their ears, arms and legs. The
Taino volunteered that these natives also had pearls.
On Monday, November 5th, the emissaries returned. They had travelled 36 miles to a
village of some 50 houses. There, they were splendidly received and treated by the
natives who thought they were visitors from heaven. Their report was disappointing; no
gold, no large cities, no Great Khan. One observation along the way; the emissaries
were the first Europeans to come in contact with tobacco. They were stunned when they
saw natives inhaling smoke from cigars inserted in their noses.
Another native told Columbus about a nearby island, Babeque, where the natives
gathered gold on the beaches by torchlight and hammered it into bars. Before Columbus
could organize an expedition to Babeque, Martin Alonso Pinzon took off on his own in
search of the gold; it was the 21st of November. (Babeque later proved to have no gold.)
Columbus continued to explore southeastern Cuba along the way toward the island of
Bohio. The captive natives aboard his ship feared Bohio because they said it was
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inhabited by one-eyed people and by the men from Caniba (Cannibals) who were well
armed and ate people. Columbus liked the natives he had met up until this point, but did
not seem to have a very high opinion of their manliness. Whatever his opinion of the
natives, he treated them well and insisted that men do likewise. Such feelings were not
entirely motivated by Christian charity; he knew that mistreatment of the natives would
close all doors to much needed information and cooperation.
On Thursday, December 6th, Columbus arrived at Bohio (Hispaniola). That same day,
off the northwest coast of Hispaniola, he discovered the island of Tortuga; (in later
centuries it would become a haven for pirates and buccaneers.) Bohío reminded him so
much of Castile because of the similarity of its fish, trees, bushes, grasses, and
mountains that he named it ―La Isla Española‖, the Spanish Isle, or Hispaniola. Today,
the island is divided between two nations, Haiti and the Dominican Republic.
Columbus was very taken by the beauty and fertility of Bohio and believed the island
could be turned to the benefit of the Crown. He felt the land was highly suited for cattle
raising; this later proved to be so.
Columbus judged the natives of Bohio to be strong and courageous, unlike the Tainos he
had met before. He still believed, however, that they were "suitable to be governed and
made to work". The days that followed were engaged in explorations on land and in
dealings with the local natives and their Cacique (chief). These natives did not have
much gold, but their comments led Columbus to believe he was close to finding its
source.
On Tuesday, December 25th, Columbus had been on his feet for almost two whole days
and was exhausted. Deciding to catch up on his sleep, he left an able seaman at the
helm. Despite explicit orders to the contrary, the seaman on watch turned the helm over
to a ―grumete‖ (young cabin boy) while he too rested. It was a calm night, but the mild
currents slowly eased the Santa Maria onto a sandbank. Although the grounding was
very gentle, the boy felt the rudder stiffen and cried out.
Columbus awakened immediately and ordered Juan de la Cosa, master and owner of the
Santa Maria, to rouse the crew. He gave additional orders to launch the small boat and
cast an anchor off the stern to keep the ship from going further aground. Columbus was
shocked when the master and the crew got in the boat and took off for the Niña. To
Columbus, a professional seaman, such behavior must have seemed unthinkable. The
runaways were refused boarding by the Niña, which then launched its own small boat to
assist the fast-settling Santa Maria. The party from the Niña got there before the original
crew returned. The tide was quickly getting lower; Columbus made a quick drastic
decision. He ordered the mast cut hoping to lighten the ship and refloat her. It was too
late. The sea became even shallower; the Santa Maria‘s seams burst; she could not be
saved.
When the Cacique, whose name was Guacanagari, and his followers heard of
Columbus's misfortune they wept and hastened to assist in the unloading of the ship.
According to Columbus, not only did they accomplish this with great diligence but, after
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they had finished, not a shoelace was missing. Hoping to console Columbus for his loss,
the Cacique gave him presents of gold. Columbus's obvious joy at finally seeing
evidence of greater amounts of gold so delighted Guacanagari that he told him there was
much more to be found nearby. Columbus decided that the grounding of the Santa Maria
had to be an act of God who willed him to establish a settlement at this site. He called it
―La Villa de Navidad‖ (Village of The Nativity).
Columbus put his men to work building a fort at La Navidad with timbers salvaged from
the Santa Maria. He could not take all the men back to Spain on the Niña, and the Pinta
had not yet returned. Signs of gold were now so plentiful that men were volunteering to
stay so they could amass their fortunes. A total of 39 men were left behind, mostly
volunteers from the Santa Maria and a few from the Niña, under the command of Diego
de Harana of Cordova (cousin of Columbus' s mistress).
Columbus instructed his men to treat the natives kindly, explore the country, look for a
suitable location for a permanent settlement, and trade for gold. He left them seed for
sowing crops, biscuits, wine for a full year -- and much artillery. He made sure they
would not want for skilled craftsmen by leaving among them a carpenter, a caulker, a
gunner, a caskmaker, a physician and a tailor. Columbus also left them a boat to explore
the island, particularly to the east where the gold seemed to come from. He gave them
good advice, cautioning them to barter discreetly with the natives for gold. He told them
he expected to find a great amount of gold waiting for him upon his return. Columbus
promised he would petition the King and Queen to grant them special favors for their
efforts and dedication.
Cacique Guacanagari gave a great feast for all before the departure; many expressions
esteem and mutual respect were exchanged. During a conversation with Columbus,
Guacanagari mentioned his fear of raids by the Caribs who came from time to time to
seek slaves and victims for their cannibalism. Columbus told Guacanagari his men
would help protect him and his people. He took advantage of the opportunity to impress
Guacanagari with the power of his artillery by firing several cannonballs into the remains
of the Santa Maria.
Had the Pinta been available, Columbus would have stayed longer. He wanted to
explore the island to the east where he expected to find much more gold. With only one
ship, however, he could not risk the danger of losing his only means of returning to Spain.
Columbus was also concerned that Martin Alonso Pinzon might return to Spain first and
spread lies about the whole expedition and, in particular, about himself (there was some
validity to this concern).
On Friday, January 4th of 1493, Columbus weighed anchor and left Villa de La Navidad.
He felt optimistic about the settlement and its future. Two days later, the Pinta was
spotted. Martin Alonso Pinzon, who had been gone since November 22nd, came aboard
and apologized saying he had been separated against his will. Columbus knew better,
but chose to preserve some degree of harmony because he was surrounded by men
from Palos and needed them to get back to Spain. He found out that Pinzon and his men
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had traded for considerable amounts of gold on Hispaniola. This confirmed his belief that
much gold could be found in the area near Villa de La Navidad. He also discovered that
Pinzon had imposed a rule- on his men that he would get half of all the gold they found or
traded. The Pinta‘s crew had learned about another large island to
the south, Yamaye (Jamaica), where natives said gold could be found in larger nuggets.
With the Pinta along, Columbus continued exploring to the east along the northern shore
of Hispaniola. Excitement grew when his men filled their casks with drinking water in
local rivers, and found gold dust and small nuggets in the hoops. In another river, they
spotted three manatees, which they referred to as sirens. Columbus indicated they were
not as beautiful as described in European myths, although he found their faces
somewhat manlike. He said he had seen them before in Guinea, Africa.
Further east, the natives were different from any encountered before. They were not as
handsome, had longer hair, carried bows and arrows and large war clubs. Columbus
judged them to be neighbors of the warlike cannibals called Caribs. They were
Ciguayos, a branch of the Tainos, who had learned to defend themselves against the
Caribs by adopting their weapons. Columbus found they did not use the same names for
gold as earlier natives (Nuzay in San Salvador and Caoma in Hispaniola). They called it
Tuob. This was the name Guacangari and his people used for poor quality gold with a
high copper content. The word Goanin described alloys with a higher gold content.
When a Spanish party of seven men landed to trade with them, the natives attempted to
capture them but were fought off with no losses. In later expeditions, the Spaniards
would learn to respect -- and fear -- the real Caribs.
On Wednesday, January 16th, Columbus set course for Spain with a favorable wind.
The early part of the voyage was mostly uneventful The winds held as they headed
northeast and crossed the lattitudes where calms were frequent. The sea was smooth,
and dolphins swam alongside as they sailed through the Sargasso Sea. Columbus had
chosen the best possible route for a return trip. By the end of January, estimating his
position to be at the same latitude as the Azores, he set an easterly course.
The weather turned bad. They encountered very strong gales. Nevertheless, the winds
blew steadily and the two ships made great progress. On one occasion, the Niña sailed
over 200 miles in one day. Unknowingly, they were returning in the midst one of the
worst winters ever. There had been extremely cold weather throughout most of Europe,
and terrible storms at sea. During one of those storms, the Pinta became separated from
the Niña. All aboard the Niña, including Columbus, were frightened by the power of the
storms. Fearing the ship might be lost at sea, he prepared an abstract of his voyage,
sealed it in a waxed cloth, and put it in a barrel. The barrel was thrown overboard in the
hope that the Catholic Monarchs might still receive some news of his success if he and
his men failed to survive. Vows were offered by all to make special pilgrimages in
exchange for their safe deliverance.
On Monday, February 18th, land was sighted. It was the island of Santa Maria in the
Azores. Once again, Columbus had demonstrated his outstanding ability as a navigator
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and a seaman. They anchored off a small town called Nossa Senhora dos Anjos (Our
Lady of the Angels). The people of the island were amazed that the Niña had survived
the storm, which had lasted 15 days; it was the worst they had ever seen. A new
problem arose to plague the weary Columbus and his crew. The men were eager to fulfill
the vows made during the storm. A prudent captain, Columbus allowed half of them to
go ashore. He intended to attend a later mass with the other half. As luck would have it,
the Portuguese captain of the island, Joao de Castanheira, knew Columbus.
Unfortunately, Castanheira thought the Spaniards had been guilty of making an illicit
voyage to Portuguese territories in Africa. With the aid of some townsmen, Castanheira
arrested Columbus' men, and interrogated them regarding their voyage. (One can only
imagine his reaction to the tales told by the seamen. "You did what?" "You went where?"
"A likely story!")
Castanheira then rowed out to the Niña with the intention of capturing Columbus and the
rest of the crew. When the boat got within hailing distance, Columbus and Castanheira
tried to persuade each other to come aboard their respective vessels. Neither would give
in. Columbus tried to reason with Castanheira. He explained that he had letters of
authority from the Catholic Sovereigns. Castanheira said: ― They mean nothing. This is
the territory of the King of Portugal.‖ The situation was fast approaching an impasse.
Columbus changed tactics. He told Castanheira that if his men were not released, he
would depopulate the island carrying all the Portuguese back to Spain as prisoners. In
light of Columbus' threat, Castanheira and his men returned to shore to consider their
options.
In the meantime, another storm blew up. The Niña‘s anchor cable parted, and she was
blown out to sea. Of the men left aboard the Niña, only three were experienced seamen.
Columbus had his hands full trying to weather the storm and return to land.
By the time Columbus got back to Santa Maria, the situation had changed. Not knowing
if Columbus could carry out his threat, Castanheira decided not to run the risk. He opted
to save face by checking Columbus' documents. Satisfied with their authenticity, he let
the prisoners return to their ship.
On Saturday, February 23rd, Columbus left the Azores. For the next three days, the
weather was relatively mild, and the Niña headed steadily northeast. Then, the weather
began to turn again. During the following days, storms, high seas, and contrary winds
frustrated Columbus' efforts to reach home. On the night of March 2nd, a squall split all
the sails, and the Niña tossed and turned in the high seas with bare masts.
The following day, they saw signs of land and felt they were near Lisbon. That night,
another terrible storm arose. Lightning flashed all around them. The waves hit the Niña
from two different directions at once. The wind was so strong, it seemed to the crew that
it lifted the caravel in the air. With only one squaresail left, Columbus struggled to keep
the Niña from being blown onto the Portuguese shore. He spent yet another sleepless
night on deck through the storm and fury, but it made a difference. The following morning
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they recognized the entrance to the river Tagus, near Lisbon. In another feat of superb
seamanship, Columbus brought the Niña into the mouth of the river with the single sail.
The fisherman of the village of Cascais, at the entrance to the river, were amazed to see
that this tiny vessel had survived so terrible an ordeal
Columbus was not eager to enter Portuguese waters, but the Niña could not continue
and needed refitting; he anchored her at nearby Rastelo. A large Portuguese warship
was anchored closeby. The ship's commander ordered Columbus to come aboard and
explain his presence in these waters.
Columbus stood on his dignity, and refused to be summoned. Instead, he showed his
papers to the Captain who then received him in a hospitable and respectful manner.
Columbus wrote to the king of Portugal, Don Joao II, requesting he allow the Niña to be
refitted. The King responded by authorizing the refitting at no cost to Columbus, and
invited him to visit his court.
Accompanied by select members of his crew and a few Tainos, Columbus journeyed by
mule to Santa Maria das Virtudes, the monastery where the King was staying. The King
suspected Columbus and his men might have infringed Portuguese rights in his
explorations; nevertheless, he received them graciously. They talked at length, and the
King asked both Columbus and the Tainos to describe the Antilles. it is said, that when
the King realized what Columbus had accomplished, he smote his breast and cried
aloud: "Why did I let slip such a wonderful opportunity?"
On his way back to Rastelo, Columbus made a brief detour to visit the Queen of Portugal
who was staying at the convent of San Antonio in Villafranca. King Joao sent a
messenger offering to provide him with the means to journey overland to Spain.
Columbus politely declined the offer. Just the relatively short trip to visit the King and
Queen had already given him more muleback experience than a seaman could tolerate.
The thought of the long overland trip by mule was too much. As soon as he reached the
Tagus, he chartered a boat to take him the rest of the trip downriver. On Wednesday,
March l3th, he set sail for home.
In the meantime, Martin Alonso Pinzón, trailing behind on the Pinta, had missed the
Azores and escaped the worst of the storms. By the end of February, the Pinta made
landfall at Bayona near Vigo in northwestern Spain. No mean feat of seamanship on the
part of Pinzon. Quick to take advantage of the situation, he sent a message to the King
and Queen, who were at Barcelona, announcing his arrival and requesting permission to
bring them the details of the journey (Columbus' misgivings had been valid). Their
majesties refused, saying they preferred to hear the story from Columbus himself. In
view of the royal snub, and feeling weary and worn out from the hardships of the journey,
Pinzón set sail from Bayona for Palos.
At midday of Friday, March 15th, 226 days after its departure, the Niña crossed the bar at
the mouth of the Saltes River and anchored at Palos. In an amazing coincidence, the
Pinta also arrived in Palos on the same tide that same day. The surprise of seeing the
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Niña at anchor must have been a shock for Pinzon. He went directly to his country
house outside of Palos, took to bed, and died of unknown causes within a few weeks.
For all his faults, Pinzón earned a place in history for proving himself an outstanding
mariner.
Columbus prepared to journey to Barcelona to report to their majesties. The first stage of
the great enterprise of Indies had ended. The great adventure of the exploration and
conquest of the New World, the invasion of America, had just begun.
Aftermath Of The First Voyage.
Columbus returned in triumph, his theories and seamanship revindicated. While visiting
Seville, he received a letter from their Catholic Majesties addressing him by the title of
"Admiral of the Ocean Sea, Viceroy and Governor of the Islands that he hath discovered
in the Indies". He was commanded to join the King and Queen at court, which was then
in Barcelona, and to commence preparations for a second voyage.
In his response, Columbus began to outline his plans for the colonization of the
discovered territories. Management of the gold trade loomed large in his design. Two
thousand settlers were to be brought to the islands, Hispaniola in particular, where they
would be licensed to trade with the natives for gold. All gold would be collected centrally
for melting and would then be taxed for the Royal Fifth*, Columbus' tenth, and a special
church tax. All traffic to and from the Indies would be controlled out of Cadiz, and no
infidels, foreigners, heretics or Jews would be allowed.
* ―The Royal Fifth‖ was the Crown‘s share of profits from all ventures.
From Seville, Columbus journeyed to Cordoba where he met his mistress Beatriz and his
two sons. Accompanied by his sons, some of his officers, six natives in their primitive
finery, and some servants, Columbus arrived in Barcelona in late April. At court the
monarchs rose from their thrones to greet him, and seated him to the right of the Queen,
an unheard of honor that shook the court. Columbus presented the natives, the gold
artifacts, and some of the rarities collected from his voyage, and answered many
questions.
These were some of the happiest moments of Columbus' life. Having accomplished what
no man had before him, he was recognized by monarchs and peers for his triumph, and
was on the verge (he thought) of achieving great power and wealth. At age 41 and the
pinnacle of fame, he could have retired to a leisurely life of wealth and prestige. Although
he remained in Barcelona for several weeks drinking the heady elixir of royal favor,
Columbus was kept busy providing proof that his discoveries were outside the jurisdiction
previously granted by the Pope (final arbiter in medieval Christian Europe of territorial
disputes) to the King of Portugal. He also endeavored to convince himself and everyone
else that his discoveries were in Asia. He quoted from the apochryphal travels of Sir
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John de Mandeville, which stated there were five thousand islands off the coasts of Asia;
Columbus alleged the islands he discovered were among these.
Meanwhile, two major effects of Columbus' discovery had begun to spread throughout
Europe. First, the news; on April 1, 1493 a four-page extract of Columbus's letter was
printed in Barcelona in Spanish. By April 18 the letter had reached Rome and appeared
in a Latin translation on April 29 under the heading of De Insulis Inuentis. Three more
editions of the Latin translation of Columbus' letter were printed in Rome during 1493. By
June, a 68-stanza poem had appeared in Rome and Florence, the latter in Tuscan
dialect. The news moved slowly northwards reaching Paris, Basel and Antwerp in late
1493 and early 1494. By the time the news reached Columbus's brother Bartholomew in
Paris, it was too late for him to join the second expedition. The first English translation of
the letter is dated from late March of 1496. The first German translation appeared in
1497 in Strasbourg.
The purpose of the publishing was not so much to spread the news as to receive
confirmation from the Papacy regarding the newly discovered lands; this was a
requirement of the times. The Pope had recently been elected in 1492, he was the
former Rodrigo de Borja (Borgia), now Alexander VI, who owed his election to the
influence of the Spanish sovereigns. The Pope issued several papal bulls; one of them,
which appeared on May 3rd, set the limits between what would be Spanish and
Portuguese discoveries. A demarcation line drawn one hundred leagues to the west of
the Azores established that all lands discovered to the west would be Spanish, and to the
east, Portuguese. The King of Portugal did not take the decision lightly and protested.
To avoid conflicts with Portugal and the risk of having their trafftc lanes and
communication lines to the Indies cut off, the Catholic Monarchs agreed in a treaty signed
at Tordesillas in 1494, to move the demarcation line 370 leagues west of the Cape Verde
islands. (Had the Spanish monarchs known that this concession would later cede Brazil
to the Portuguese, they might not have been so amenable.)
The second major effect of the voyage of discovery was the rapid and virulent spread of
syphillis throughout Europe. Endemic to the New World, the disease did not affect the
natives as severely as it would Europeans. Carried in the bloodstream of the first natives
who accompanied Columbus to Spain, it is assumed to have been passed on by them to
some of the Spanish women who vied for their attentions during their stay in Barcelona.
Some of these women seem to have accompanied Spanish volunteers of the army of
French monarch Charles VIII to Naples where the first major outbreak of the disease
occurred. Among the Europeans, the disease took on terrible forms and often caused
death.
There is reason to believe that the crew of the Niña was not afflicted with the disease
because they would have been unable to man the ship during the return voyage. The
same cannot be said for the crew of the Pinta, as evidenced by the suspicious death of
Martin Alonso Pinzon shortly after his return. This is reinforced by the statement of a
Spanish surgeon, Ruy Diaz de Isla, in a book published in 1539, in which he says he
treated a pilot from Palos, Pinzon by name, who was afflicted with this disease. As usual,
everyone blamed everyone else for the disease; the French called it the Spanish Pox,
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and the English referred to it as the French Pox. By the early sixteenth century, the
disease had reached China; we don‘t know whom they blamed.
Christopher Columbus, Admiral of The Ocean Sea.
Power demands of those who would possess it, character and the ability to read it in
others. Sovereigns of every period have needed to identify the strengths and
weaknesses of those who serve them. Their ability to understand and use the
motivations of those around them for the benefit of the crown and the state were key to
survival in a world of power and intrigue. The best leaders developed a keen sense of
judgment, and the ability to be objective about matters involving the interests of the
nation. Fernando and Isabel were outstanding professional monarchs; willing to take
risks based on the character of those who would serve them, but they also hedged their
bets.
Nothing brings out a man's weaknesses faster than success. A strange but telling
episode took place at the court, which reveals some of the less-than-great traits of
Columbus. The King and Queen had promised a prize of ten thousand maravedis for the
first man to see land. Columbus only thought he might have seen a light the night of
October 11th, 1492. He was unable at that time to obtain confirmation from others of
what he thought he had seen. In his own log, Columbus states that what he thought he
saw was such an uncertain thing that he did not feel it was adequate proof of land. Yet,
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he claimed the prize for himself. The King and Queen signed the royal order granting
Columbus the ten thousand maravedis.
Rodrigo de Triana, the sailor from the Pinta, who at two in the morning of October 12th,
saw land and cried "Tierra," never had a chance to substantiate his claim or even to
confront Columbus on the matter. Disappointed, he left Spain for Morocco where he
became a renegade.
Having endorsed Columbus's plans to colonize Hispaniola, the Sovereigns gave him
practically everything he wanted. But, as Columbus was occupied with matters of the
court, they chose his friend, Juan Rodriguez de Fonseca, Archdeacon of Seville, to
organize the fleet for the second voyage to the Indies. Fonseca, an ambitious but fiercely
loyal man, was descended of noble Castillian stock. Born in 1451, as were CoIumbus
and the Queen, he had distinguished himself as an astute and able organizer. Fonseca
did an outstanding job of putting together the largest expeditionary force ever organized
in Europe of the period. In Cadiz, he assembled seventeen chatered vessels, hired over
twelve hundred men between colonists, soldiers and sailors, and stocked the expedition
with supplies for six months. Fonseca was involved in every aspect of purchasing a wide
variety of equipment and supplies.
A hardheaded practical man, with a penchant for detail, he protected the interests of his
sovereigns with the same intensity he dedicated to following the teachings of his role
model, Torquemada. His tough, pugnacious nature was not destined to be a good match
for the dreamy, often impractical and hypersensitive character of Columbus. Over the
years, these two men would clash many times with great bitterness.
Columbus also clashed with Juan de Soria who had been appointed comptroller and
accountant of the project. It seems he may have bypassed Soria‘s approval and control
of certain expenses. Soria, probably supported by Fonseca, took Columbus to task for
failing to respect the explicit orders of their majesties regarding the approval and control
of expenses. Columbus complained to the King and Queen about Soria‘s "disrespect."
They responded by backing Columbus, but also insisted that he follow established
procedure. At this time, Columbus also took to surrounding himself with a personal
bodyguard of several men; this was a privilege limited to royalty. Fonseca rebuked
Columbus for this presumption, and promptly reported the matter to the sovereigns.
They supported Fonseca‘s position, and were displeased by Columbus' lack of judgment
in this matter.
In time, other explorers and conquistadors would also break their lances against
Fonseca‘s impenetrable bureaucratic shield. The Spanish Sovereigns seemed to realize
that men of adventure and great daring are not necessarily good organizers, nor are they
always the best guardians of the Crown's interests. Fonseca was in many ways a good
offset to the cupidity and impracticality of the dreamers and adventurers who opened up
the New World. He was not without some ambitions and interests of his own; later, they
contributed to his downfall
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In July, Columbus arrived at Cadiz to find the fleet in place. Largest of the vessels was
the new Santa Maria, nicknamed La Marigalante. Two other vessels of larger size were
the Colina and La Gallega. With them were ten square-riggers, including the Niña, a
couple of lateen-rigged caravels, and some smaller vessels. Conspicuous by their
absence among the crews, were the Pinzons who played so large a role in the first
expedition. Most of the seamen were from the Huelva area, including four members of
the Niño family from Moguer (three Niños, Juan, Francisco, and Peralonso, all of Moguer,
were on the Niña during the first voyage). Also present was another of Columbus'
brothers, Giacomo, who was promptly renamed Don Diego.
September 25, 1493, the ships sailed from Cadiz with far greater splendor and pomp
than the first fleet, royal banners flying, and coats of arms displayed on many of the
vessels. By October 2nd, the fleet arrived at Grand Canary Island. Three days later, the
fleet stopped at the Port of San Sebastian on the island of Gomera and Columbus paid
his respects to the beautiful doña Beatriz de Pedraza y Bobadilla. Referred to as "La
Capitana‖, donna Beatriz received the fleet in style with fireworks and cannon salvos.
Much speculation has been given to the possibility of a romance. Columbus did spend
more than the minimum necessary time on the island to replenish the fleet's supplies. If
his intentions were romantic, doña Beatriz would have made a good match for his new
found prominence, but he didn't stay long enough. In time, she married Pedro Fernandez
de Lugo, the conqueror of Grand Canary Island who later mounted the expedition which
was to discover and explore most of Nueva Granada (Colombia).
After a stop at the island of Hierro, on or about October 12th, the fleet sailed west toward
the Indies. In another feat of seamanship, Columbus kept the entire fleet of seventeen
ships together throughout the twenty-two day voyage. With the exception of one
frightening storm, which split a number of sails, the fleet enjoyed pleasant weather sailing
with steady westward breezes. At dawn of November 3rd, the lookout of the new Santa
Maria gave the cry of 'Tierra!" upon sighting the island of Dominica, so named because it
was discovered on a Sunday. Sailing in search of anchorages, the fleet discovered other
islands. The first island was named Santa Maria Galante in honor of the flagship. The
next island was named Todos Los Santos in honor of the feast of All Saints, which had
taken place a few days earlier. Finally, a larger island was christened Santa Maria de
Guadalupe (today's Guadeloupe). The fleet remained there a few days longer than
Columbus intended.
An unauthorized exploration party under Diego Marquez, captain of one of the ships, got
lost on Guadalupe. This was Carib territory. Columbus sent out four search groups.
Coming upon a deserted village, Marquez's exploration party discovered cuts of human
flesh and limbs. Searching a little farther, they found several boys who were being kept
in cages. They had been emasculated, and were being fattened for future meals. They
also found a number of captive adolescent girls described as "beautiful and plump". The
Spaniards took two of the boys and twelve of the girls, believed to be Tainos, as
"interpreters".
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For the next few days, the fleet continued sailing through the Lesser Antilles discovering
island after Island. On November 14th, the fleet anchored off an island Columbus named
Santa Cruz (Saint Croix). An armed landing party was sent ashore. The island which, in
contrast with the densely forested ones encountered thus far, was intensely cultivated.
At the sight of the approaching Spaniards, the inhabitants fled the village.
As the landing boat was returning to the ship, a dugout with four Carib men and two
women came around the point. Startled at first, the natives recovered quickly and
attacked with bows and arrows. Two of the Spaniards were wounded, one fatally. The
Spaniards rammed the dugout, which then capsized. The natives swam to a nearby
rock, and continued to fight from there. The natives were finally subdued. In the fight,
one of them was hurt so badly that his intestines were hanging out. Not feeling very
kindly toward the aggressive natives who had already kiled on their own, the Spaniards
threw the injured man into the water. They were amazed when he began to swim towards
the shore, holding his innards with one hand. He was recaptured, tied up, and tossed
back in the water. He broke loose again and began once more to swim away. Finally,
the Spaniards shot him full of crossbow bolts until he died and sank.
On shore, wearing terrifying full war paint, the man‘s fellow warriors could watch no
longer. They launched a fierce counterattack, but their arrows could not reach far
enough. The Spaniards gained a healthy respect for the Caribs. In the future they would
run into the Caribs many times, but learned to avoid them as much as possible.
Columbus ―magnanimously‖ gave one of the Carib women who were on board the Carib
canoe to his childhood friend Michele de Cuneo of Savona, a village near Genoa. The
woman was beautiful, but defended herself vigorously from Cuneo‘s advances. Enraged
by her resistance, he whipped her with a knotted rope. Eventually, they reached an
accommodation and, according to Cuneo‘s own account of the event, the young lady's
skills surpassed those of the most accomplished European courtesans. Most likely, de
Cuneo was bragging to hide his frustration.
The fleet did not remain near St. Croix for fear the Caribs would bring reinforcements and
mount a major attack. Columbus decided to sail towards islands he could see to the
north. As he approached them, they seemed to grow in number almost endlessly. He
named the chain of islands after the mythical Eleven Thousand Virgins*.
(According to medieval legend, they accompanied Saint Ursula on her pilrimage down
the Rhine to Cologne . Unfortunately, when they got there they were martyred by the
Huns. A twentieth century Spanish author, Enrique Jardiel Poncela, humorously revived
the legend in a book titled "Were There Ever Twenty Thousand Virgins?")
Following the Virgin Islands, the fleet came to a larger Island called Borinquen by the
natives. Columbus named it San Juan Bautista (St. John the Baptist), now known as
Puerto Rico. From Puerto Rico, the fleet moved on to Hispaniola, arriving there on
November 22nd. One of the Tainos who had accompanied Columbus to Spain
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recognized the island and was put ashore at Samana Cay with gifts. Soon, other natives
appeared and began trading.
The Spaniard wounded in the encounter with the Caribs died, and was buried here.
Anxious to establish contact with the men left at Villa de La Navidad, Columbus sailed on
to Monti Cristi explore a possible site for a future settlement. He was now in known
territory having sailed this way on the return voyage of the first trip. On the banks of the
Yaque del Norte River, the landing party discovered two bodies in advanced state of
decomposition. One of them had a rope knotted around a foot, and the other around the
neck. The next day they found two more bodies; one of them was bearded. The natives
did not grow beards. Alarmed, Columbus quickly sailed the fifty miles remaining between
Monti Cristi and Villa de La Navidad, arriving there at midnight of Wednesday, November
27th.
Despite his eagerness to discover the fate of the men left at Villa de La Navidad,
Columbus did not forget the lessons learned from the sinking of the first Santa Maria; he
chose to remain offshore untiI after daylight. Cannons were fired, and flares ]it. There
was no response from the settlement. A canoe approached from the shore with five
natives aboard; they requested an audience with the Admiral. Taken to the flagship, they
insisted on identifying Columbus by the light of a torch. This done, they presented gifts
from Guacangari of gold masks for him and for Pinzon (they believed him to be aboard).
When asked about the settlement Spaniards, they replied that they were well although
some had died of illness and others in fights among themselves.
This was an indication of another pattern among native almost everywhere in the New
World, the tendency to understate bad news. (The reluctance to give bad news remains a
characteristic of Latin American cultures.to this day.) The Tainos explained that
Guacanagari was unable to come personally because of a leg wound received during
raids by kings Caonabo and Mayreni who had also burnt down the settlement.
Through an interpreter, the truth came out. Pedro Gutierrez, representative of the royal
household and lieutenant at Villa de La Navidad under Diego de Harana, had taken it
upon himself to roam the island at the head of a gang of marauders seeking more gold.
Caonabo, Cacique of Magauna, near the center of Hispaniola, captured the Spaniards
and put them all to death. He then marched on Villa de La Navidad and took it easily.
The ten men there under Diego de Harana were too busy with native women to post
guards. The rest of the Spaniards had also been roaming about the island. According to
the story, Guacanagari tried to stop the slaughter of the Spaniards but was unsuccessful.
At first, Columbus refused to believe the story. He sent a landing party ashore, which
confirmed the burning of the settlement and the disappearance of the Spaniards.
Columbus took the news coldly, showing no emotional effects of the tragedy. In fact, his
next act was to instruct his men to dig around the settlement to see if any of the dead
men had buried their share of the gold in the area. (Spaniards often chose to safekeep
their valuables by burying them. Centuries later, during the Latin American wars of
independence, houses were often torn down and gardens dug up in search of buried
Spanish gold.)
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Guacanagarl was discovered several miles away, lying in his hammock. Accompanied
by his staff, all dressed in their best finery and bearing gifts, Columbus went to visit the
cacique. Seeing that Guacanagari‘s leg was bandaged, Columbus offered him the
services of his physician. Upon removing the bandage, they discovered there was no
wound underneath. Guacanagarilsaid that he was in much pain anyway. Everyone
except Columbus suspected Guacanagari of treachery. The not-so-kindly Friar Buil, who
headed the religious contingent of the expedition, strongly advocated putting
Guacanagari to death as a warning to other natives. The Admiral refused to take action
against the Cacique.
In retrospect, Columbus handled the situation badly. By not taking action against
Guacanagari; he lost much respect among his men. His cold reaction to the loss of the
39 settlers, followed by his order to dig among the ruins of Villa de La Navidad in search
of the dead men's gold, did not help his standing either. Columbus was an able
commander at sea, but dealt poorly with the problems of operations on land. A wise
leader would have exhausted every possible means to discover what had happened to
the men who stayed at La Navidad. By not doing so, and instead devoting his efforts to
looking for such gold as the men might have accumulated, Columbus essentially
indicated his priorities; gold came before men.
Columbus decided to continue his search for an ideal location for his trading post. The
fleet set sail to the east beating against the prevailing winds. For twenty-five days the
ships maneuvered constantly, shifting sails and fighting the wind and the sea until the
men were exhausted and much the livestock had died. By January 2 nd, 1494, the fleet
had advanced only thirty miles. Columbus was determined and maybe even obstinate,
but he‘d had enough.
He anchored in the lee of a peninsula where he decided to found his trading post. The
new city would be called Isabela. He began with the construction of a church, an armory
and a stronghouse for himself. Several houses were built to accommodate other
members of the expedition. Before long, an epidemic hit the colony; it may have been
malaria. Most of the men had inadequate food; they were also being worked hard to
clear the area, and cut coral stone for buildings and projects that included the building of
two hundred huts. To advance the project even faster, Columbus drafted some of the
hidalgos (aristocrats) to perform manual labor. These gentlemen had come to harvest
gold, not to work with their hands. It was demeaning to an hidalgo (literally ―Hijo de algo‖
or ―Son of someone important‖) to be forced to do manual labor. The hidalgos were very
vocal about their discontent.
Once more, Columbus was eager to produce the tangible results that had managed to
elude him thus far. Another pattern began to emerge that would haunt most Spanish
expeditions to the New World. Food brought from Spain was not always of good quality
(suppliers were known to cheat), and it also tended to spoil relatively soon. Crops were
planted but took too long to grow to the point where they could feed the expedition.
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Few colonists wanted to raise crops; they had come to find gold. As a result, most
expeditions ran out of food shortly after arriving in the New World. This situation put great
pressure on leaders to find quick sources of food. Native villages and crops offered the
only viable alternative and the Spaniards were quick to raid them. Also lacking women,
they took them from the natives too.
To generate a profit from this voyage, Columbus needed to do two things: find gold, and
reduce the demand for food. Four days after founding Isabela, he sent Alonso de Hojeda
in search of gold to a place called Cibao in the interior of Hispaniola. He hoped that
Cibao might turn out to be Cipango. Two weeks later, Hojeda showed up with three large
nuggets, and told of abundant gold and friendly natives. While this was good news, it did
nothing to relieve the burden of having seventeen ships with twelve hundred mostly idle
men aboard accumulating pay and eating up supplies.
Columbus decided to retain three of his ships, the San Juan, the Cardera, and the Niña,
and send the rest back to Spain under the command of his flag captain, Antonio de
Torres. Torres was the brother of the governess to the prince, Infante Don Juan.
Columbus may have felt that Torres' connections would aid his own cause. With Torres
went gold worth 30,000 ducats, plus 26 natives and 60 parrots. Columbus also sent a
load of what --he thought -- were sandalwood and New World varieties of traditional
spices, cinnamon and pepper. They weren‘t; this generated ridicule and discontent back
in Spain.
Columbus must have suspected that there was not as much gold as he had originally
believed to be found on the island. He instructed Torres to report that great amounts of
gold could be panned from the streams of Hispaniola. Columbus insisted that Torres tell
their majesties about the great fertility of the land, the abundance of spices, and the
beauty of the islands and their people. Torres was also to explain that the climate was
particularly rough on clothing and shoes, and that the colonists were in great need of
additional supplies of Spanish food, medicine, clothing and arms.
Columbus was concerned his trading company idea would not work. The natives‘ needs
were few, and they had no real incentive to continue trading their gold for the white man‘s
trinkets. Columbus needed to produce enough wealth for the crown to warrant continued
support for his explorations. He suggested that numbers of Caribs be sent to Spain to be
converted to Christianity, broken of their cannibalism, and sold as slaves to generate
additional revenues. It must be remembered that slavery was still a rather common
practice in the Old World, and Columbus was quite familiar with the slave trade from his
experience in Africa. He was also aware of the wealth thre slave trade had brought the
Portuguese. This proposal may also indicate that he no longer viewed the American
natives as charming and naive primitives, but merely as peoples to be exploited. The
Spanish monarchs seem to have been far more enlightened than Columbus in this
sense; his proposal was not accepted.
Eager to find out more about Cibao, Columbus decided to mount an expedition into the
interior. He set out with several hundred men, banners flying, drums beating, trumpets
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sounding, and the occasional firing of guns to impress the natives. The expedition came
to a valley with rich, lush vegetation and of such beauty that Columbus was moved to call
it the Royal PLain, Vega Real. It wasn't Cipango; Ciba meant stone in the native
language; Cibao meant ―land of stones.‖ Among the stones, particularly in the rivers,
there was gold, and much of it was collected. As they passed through the villages,
natives often gave the Spaniards small packages of gold dust. There had been so much
skepticism about the availability of gold that, when Columbus decided to build a fort, he
named it Santo Tomás after Doubting Thomas, the Apostle. He appointed Mosen Pedro
Margarite to command the fort. It proved to be a poor choice.
Back at Isabela, things were not going well. There was general discontent. Food was
running out. The food brought from Spain was spoiling. Native food did not sit well on
Spanish stomachs, and there wasn‘t enough of it to feed both natives and Europeans.
The climate was unhealthy, and the work both boring and fatiguing. To make matters
worse, there would be no gold for those who had remained in Isabela. Mutiny was in the
air, and some men had already been placed in irons.
Upon his return, the Admiral took precautions by storing all arms aboard the flagship
under the command of his younger brother, Diego. Then, he put the men, including the
hidalgos, to work building mills to grind the corn grown in abundance on the island. To
the hidalgos (sons of aristocratic families) the idea of manual labor was not only
loathsome, it was an insult to their status and heritage. To combat insubordination,
Columbus did what would have been customary on board sihp but didn‘t fit the
circumstances of a colony. He established a regime of harsh discipline. Troublemakers
were flogged, and several men were hanged.
Even Friar Buil, the spiritual director of the voyage, felt Columbus' measures were
excessive. He tried to coerce Columbus by threatening to suspend all religious services.
The Admiral ignored the threat. Buil suspended religious services. Columbus retaliated
by cutting off his food supply. Obviously, none of these activities helped to improve
morale.
Columbus received word that the cacique Caonabo was preparing to attack the fort at
Santo Tomás. Here was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Action could be
a cure for the ills of idleness and hunger. He sent every man who could walk and bear
arms into the interior under the command of Alonso de Hojeda to relieve Margarite and
the Santo Tomás garrison. A hundred and ten men armed with muskets, two hundred
and fifty archers, sixteen horsemen and twenty officers advanced into the interior.
Hojeda's instructions were to treat the natives well. The Spaniards were to pay or trade
for all supplies. The natives were not to robbed or abused. If, however, a native were
caught stealing, he was to be punished by cutting off of his nose or ears as an example
to be seen by others. Such punishments were commonplace in Europe at that time.
They must have seemed unnecessarily cruel to the natives who could understand killing
but not maiming.
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Relieved of his responsibility at Santo Tomás, Margarite and his nearly four hundred men
roamed the countryside extorting gold and supplies from the natives. They took young
boys prisoners as slaves, and girls as concubines. Hojeda caught a native stealing some
clothes, and cut his ears off. A cacique and two other natives complained about the
punishment. Hojeda put them in chains and sent them to the Admiral for justice.
Columbus's reaction was brutally harsh. He ordered a public execution; the three natives
were beheaded in the main square.
The situation at Isabela was rapidly deteriorating. Men weakened by hunger and
dejection were easy prey for disease and ideas of rebellion. Santo Tomas was being
threatened by Caonabo. Angered by the execution of the three men, the natives
boycotted the Spaniards. Under continuous strain since that day in January
of 1492 when the Queen approved his first voyage, Columbus was beginning to show the
effects of the stress that goes with command. He felt himself under constant pressure to
prove his worth, to generate wealth that would justify his position and the expense of the
expeditionary effort. He was losing control of the situation.
Surrounded by men of action, tough veterans of several wars, fortune hunters, and
restless men of aristocratic power, he lived in a virtual state of siege. Further, as a nonSpaniard he was isolated by his nature and nationality. He was sensitive to slights from
those of nobler birth, and clearly uncertain of his own power. He lacked the true
ruthlessness of men bred to brutal combat, and who intuitively understood the nature and
uses of power. He didn‘t even understand the uses of such power as he had.
His superior navigating skills and seamanship, which served him so well aboard ship,
gave him no edge over the land soldiers under his command. At sea he was in his
element, and his skills were respected by all whose lives depended upon them. On land,
he had little to offer these rough, tough soldiers, and could not command their respect.
Columbus needed to take charge of the situation, find food for his men and get them out
of that unhealthy location. He needed to give them something constructive to do, to
make them feel better about themselves and restore their morale. He chose, instead, to
leave. Before leaving, he set up a governing council composed of the fractious Friar Buil,
Pero Hernandez Coronel, Alonso Sanchez Carvajal, and Juan de Luxan. He left his
brother Diego (a kindly, simple man, totally unsuited for command) in charge of the
council.
On April 24th, 1494, he left to seek out mainland Asia. Eager to explore Cuba, he
headed north in the Niña, the Marigalante, and the Gallega. Landing at the easternmost
point of Cuba at the cape he had named Alpha and Omega during his first voyage. From
there, he headed south and west along the southern coast of Cuba where he discovered
Guantanamo Bay. Continuing in this direction he reached Cabo de La Cruz at the
southwestern corner of the island. There he erected a cross and claimed the island in
the name of the Spanish Crown.
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Diego Colon, a Guanahani Indian from the first voyage christened with Columbus'
brother's name, extolled the virtues of Jamaica to the south where "gold flowed in
abundance." At the mention of his favorite metal, Columbus forgot about finding the
mainland and exploring Cuba, and headed south. In terms of the beliefs and knowledge
of the time, it made sense to search to the south. Aristotle had said that gold was more
likely to be found closer to the equator. The Portuguese experience in Africa seemed to
confirm Aristotle‘s theory.
On May 5th, 1492, Columbus discovered Jamaica. He described the island as the most
beautiful and graceful of all those he had yet discovered. This was the most populated of
the islands visited to date. Several large dugouts, with a total of some sixty to seventy
Taino warriors, came out to do battle. They were chased away by a cannon shot.
Columbus then sailed further west to a port that he named Rio Bueno. Again, the natives
put on a display of hostility. Columbus lowered several boats with crossbowmen that
killed a number of the threatening natives. Following the natives ashore, the Spaniards
loosed a great war dog upon them. The terrifying animal bit several natives severely and
frightened the rest away. Used with great effectiveness against the Canary Island
natives, the Guanches, war dogs became a vital part of the Spaniards arsenal in the New
World.
Unable to find gold in Jamaica, Columbus provisioned his ships and sailed for Cuba in
search of the mainland. Arriving in Cuba, he explored the area immediately north of
Cabo de La Cruz. He came upon an archipelago so lovely and fragrant that he named it
the Queen's Garden. It was here that he first observed the natives catching turtles with
trained pilot fish. The natives had trained the pilot fish from youth to swim on a leash.
Using their suckers the pilot fish latched onto a turtle, which then could be reeled in on
the leash.
Heading to the northwest, Columbus passed many future landmarks; the site where
Cienfuegos would be built, Bahia Cochinos or the Bay of Pigs, Isla de Pinos, finally
reaching the end of the peninsula of Zapata, Punta Serafin. From there he crossed the
Ensenada de Broa where he anchored near the present day town of Batabano. He then
continued west to what today is the province of Pinar del Rio, and came within fifty miles
of the western tip of Cuba. He also came within one hundred and fifty miles of Yucatan
on the Mexican mainland.
From an exploratory point of view, it would have been logical to continue to the west. Had
he done so, Columbus might have discovered Mexico and the great Aztec civilization.
Who knows how this might have changed history? From a practical perspective, it made
better sense to return to Isabela. The ships' sails were torn, and hull seams were leaking
as a result of frequent groundings on the many shoals. Supplies were getting lower, and,
as usual, the men were beginning to grumble again.
Desperate to prove that he had at long last found mainland Asia, Columbus forced his
men to swear that Cuba was the mainland. He instructed the fleet's acting notary,
Fernando Fretting Perez de Luna, to ask each man aboard whether there was any doubt
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in his mind that this was the mainland. The penalties for denying this statement were a
fine of ten thousand maravedis, a hundred lashes for those who could not afford the fine,
and cutting off of the tongue "each time" they said anything to the contrary. Seamen
everywhere are reputed to have long tongues, but these Spaniards were not willing to
lose theirs by saying anything different from what their Admiral wished. For the most part,
it made no difference to them whether or not Cuba was the mainland. Besides, as far as
they knew, Columbus could have been right. After all, he was the one who had studied
all the maps and discovered these lands in the first place. As a result, they all agreed.
On June 13, the fleet turned back along the southern shore of Cuba. Contrary winds and
difficult currents made progress difficult and tiring. It took twenty-five days to cover about
two hundred miles. Columbus began to show signs of intense fatigue from stress and
lack of sleep. Finally, on July 18th, they reached Cape Cruz at the southwestern tip of
the island. There, friendly natives received them well.
Rather than fight contrary winds all along the southern shore of Cuba on the way back to
Isabela, Columbus decided to turn south to Jamaica and entered Montego Bay on July
21. By August 29th, the fleet had left the easternmost tip of Jamaica and approached
Cape Tiburon on Hispaniola. Natives paddled out to receive Columbus with news that all
was well at Isabela. He sent nine men by land across the island to notify the settlers at
Isabela of his coming. A hurricane roared through the area, but the Admiral was able to
shelter his ships behind a small island. While there, he astounded the natives by
predicting (from his almanac) an eclipse of the moon.
Columbus intended to continue on to Puerto Rico to carry out a punitive expedition
against the Carib cannibals. As he proposed in his letter to the King and Queen, he
hoped to "civilize" the Caribs and sell them off as slaves. His plans didn‘t work out; he
became quite ill falling into a near-comatose state. According to Columbus‘s own log, he
had not slept for more than thirty days. The crew feared for his life. A council of officers
decided to saiI back to Isabela. They arrived there on September 29th, and Columbus
was carried ashore unconscious.
Columbus was ill for five months. In the meantime, Bartholomew, his thirty-three year old
brother had arrived in Spain. Impressed by his energy and bearing, the King and Queen
gave him three caravels to take the supplies Columbus had requested to Hispaniola.
Tough, bright, and a man of action, of the three brothers he was the best suited for
command. When Bartholomew arrived in Hispaniola, Columbus appointed him
Adelantado (a sort of Lieutenant Governor) and gave him command of the island.
During Columbus' absence, the garrison at Santo Tomas under the command of
Margarite had not fared well. Food was always a problem; the Spaniards consumed
more in a day than most natives in a month. Their constant pursuit of native women did
not sit well with the male half of that population. Further, the natives really had few needs
and wanted little, which made it hard for the Spaniards to get them to work.
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News of Margarite's greed and excesses reached Diego, the younger brother Columbus
had left in charge of the colony. Diego sent Margarite a rebuke and an order to cease
abusing the natives. Margarite was enraged and demanded retraction; Diego gave none.
There was enough discontent among the perennially hungry colonists that Margarite had
no trouble rounding up a few rebels to join him. He seized the three caravels brought by
Bartholomew, and left for Spain with his loot.
Accompanying Margarite was that other malcontent, Friar Buil, who had consistently
opposed Columbus and his brother in every way possible. Given his personality and the
unchrisitain behavior of his fellow Spaniards, it comes as no surpirse that Friar Buil had
failed to make a single convert among the natives. The rebels arrived in Spain where
they spread lies about Columbus and the situation in Hispaniola. They also sold their loot
without paying the corresponding taxes of the royal fifth and Columbus's tenth.
Towards late October, Antonio de Torres returned to Hispaniola with four caravels laden
with supplies for the colony. Torres was carrying a letter from their Majesties thanking
and congratulating Columbus for his efforts. They informed him of the treaty of
Tordesiilas with the King of Portugal, and requested that he return to Spain and help
them negotiate the boundaries established by the treaty.
It would have been a prudent and politically shrewd move on the part of Columbus to
heed the request. It was a golden opportunity. He could have reinforced his position and
credentials with the court; his influence would have grown significantly. The benign
Spanish weather might also, have improved his health. For reasons unknown, he chose
to stay in the Indies. He may have felt his position weakened by the lack of enough gold
to send back to Spain and perhaps wanted to make up for it in some fashion before
returning.
Instead, he chose a course of action that was abominable. In March of 1495, he set out
on a punitive expedition with his brother Bartholomew. They were.accompanied by two
hundred infantrymen with arquebusses, twenty horsemen, and twenty especially trained
war hounds. His intended to pacify the natives who had risen in rebellion because of
Margarite's excesses, and bring back slaves for shipping to Spain.
It must be remembered that these were the same Tainos Columbus had described in
such glowing terms to the King and Queen as "gentle, kind, and intelligent," and who the
sovereigns had insisted he treat kindly. Although primitive, the Tainos were indeed a
kind and gentle people who needed little and gave generously of what they did have.
They didn't stand a chance against the gold-lust of the Spaniards who had been bred to
war and cruelty over seven centuries of crusades against brave, sophisticated enemies.
A cacique by the name of Guatiguana, taken captive earlier, had gnawed through his
bonds and escaped to raise an army. Although unable to unite the entire population of
the island, nearly a quarter of a million pwople, he did gather a formidable force and
marched against the Spaniards. Columbus decided not to wait for Guatiguana. He took
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the initiative and, with a force under joint command with his brother Bartholomew, and
Alonso de Hojeda, advanced to Puerto de Los Hidalgos where the decisive battle took
place.
It is doubtful that the Tainos had ever fought in such large numbers against a single
enemy. They probably knew little of strategy and the use of massed concentrations on
an open field, something in which the Spaniards excelled. The Spanish infantrymen fired
their arquebusses; the weapons caused little damage but did manage to frighten some of
the natives. As the natives advanced in a solid mass, Hojeda charged with his cavalry
into their midst, and loosed the war hounds at the same time. A tremendous panic
ensued, and the natives were routed. It was all over except for the mopping up
operations, which continued for another ten months until most of the island was subdued.
Within a few days, the Spanish force had dispersed the native combatants and taken
over fifteen hundred prisoners. At Isabela, Torres loaded five hundred of the captives,
whose ages ranged from twelve to thirty-five, on his four ships. Columbus gave many
native prisoners to the resident Spaniards to serve as slaves. The remainding prisoners
were allowed to leave. In their desperate fiight to get away from the Spaniards, women
even abandoned their infants. On the return voyage, approximately two hundred of the
captives died. Half of the survivors were sick by time they reached Seville. The native
slaves did not fare well in the Spanish climate, and many of them died within a short
period of time.
Another prisoner taken during the pacification process was Caonabo, the cacique who
avenged Spanish plundering and abuse by going on the warpath. Caonabo was also
blamed for the destruction of Villa de Navidad and the death of its inhabitants.
Approached in a friendly manner by Alonso de Hojeda, he was invited to mount a horse.
Most natives were terrified of horses, but Caonabo could not lose face in front of his men
who kept their distance from this new and strange animal. While on the horse, Caonabo
– who had never seen chains before - was persuaded to wear a new present he had
received earlier from Hojeda: a set of shiny brass bracelets connected with an equally
attractive chain, a pair of fetters. Before his followers could react, Caonabo had been
trapped.
While Caonabo was kept prisoner in the hallway of the Admiral‘s house in Isabela, he
developed a curious and perhaps revealing perception. When Hojeda would pass,
Caonabo would rise and bow in deference to him. When Columbus passed, the cacique
ignored him. It was explained to Caonabo that Hojeda was the subordinate of Columbus.
The proud cacique replied that the Admiral had not dared to capture him, whereas
Hojeda had and, consequently, he would continue to bow to his captor. Is it possible that
Caonabo, a warrior, perceived something that was shared by other warriors, the
hidalgos?
Columbus knew he was going against the Queen's desires by making slaves of the
natives. At that time, however, it was accepted practice to sell prisoners captured in war
as slaves. Columbus may have thought the ruse of quelling an uprising by force would
85
lend some legality to his actions. He hoped providing inexpensive slaves would please
many of the people at court whose support he desired. It was not a good move. His
stock at court had fallen since the return of Margarite and Buil who had spread lies and
half-truths about his actions. The arrival of the native slaves did not help his standing.
To increase the flow of gold from Hispaniola, Columbus imposed a gold tax upon the
natives. Every male over the age of fourteen was supposed to deliver four hawk‘s bells
full of gold dust per year, or twenty-five pounds of cotton if he lived in area where there
was no gold. Caciques were supposed to turn in a far greater amount (nearly U.S.$2,000
by 1988 standards). The tax base was probably estimated on the amount of gold
received during the first and second trips to the island. The taxpayer was to be rewarded
with a brass medallion to be worn around the neck. Columbus sent troops into the
interior of the island to set up forts, and force the payment of the tax.
What Columbus and his men most likely did not take into account was that the natives
had given them many gold objects handed down through generations, not the product of
continuous abundance. There just wasnt enough gold for the natives to comply with the
tax. They worked continually, panning the streams and sluicing dirt from cleared lands,
but it was impossible to produce enough gold to satisfy Columbus' demands. Even after
the tax was lowered by fifty percent, it still could not be met. The natives gave up trying.
They stopped growing their crops, and headed for the mountains where the Spaniards
hunted them down with hounds.
Of those who managed to escape the Spaniards, many died of starvation and others
poisoned themselves to end their misery. Parents actually killed their own children to
save them from the worse fate of slavery under the cruel Spaniards. The devastation of
the population was horrible. Of an estimated 250,000 inhabitants in 1492, fourteen years
later, in 1506, a census revealed only 60,000 left. Fifty years after Columbus‘s arrival,
less than five hundred Tainos lived on the island.
Columbus had found paradise and turned it into hell! The gentle, innocent Tainos were
sacrificed to satisfy his lust for gold. There is only one name for Columbus‘s actions:
GENOCIDE!
The tales told by Margarite and BuiI had taken their toll on Columbus's standing in Spain.
The King and Queen appointed Juan de Aguado, a former colonist who had returned with
Antonio de Torres, to take four caravels to Hispaniola and conduct an inquiry into the
situation there. Some inkling of the Sovereigns' displeasure could be had from the fact
that Aguado's credentials were addressed not to Columbus but to "Gentlemen and
Squires and other persons who are in the Indies". For five months, Columbus and
Aguado, argued about who was in charge. Columbus' could not accept being treated as
an equal by a messenger -- even if he had been sent by the Sovereigns.
Aguado took advantage of the time to obtain as much information as possible about the
condition of the colony and its residents most of whom were sorely discontented. As
always, hunger was a major issue. Frightening the natives into the hills had only
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aggravated the situation by reducing the amount of food grown. As none of the
Spaniards had come to stay; they did not want to "waste their time" growing food when
they could be gathering gold for their journey home. While Aguado and Columbus were
engaged in their bickering, a hurricane struck the island and sank the four vessels
brought by the messenger. Columbus still had the Niña and, from the timbers of the San
Juan and the Cardera, he built another caravel, the India.
Because of deaths and departures, the Spanish population of the island was now down
to some 630 -- mostly unhappy -- inhabitants. There were many volunteers for the return
trip. On March 10, 1496, the Niña and the India departed Isabela with 225 Spaniards and
30 slaves, among them Caonabo who died at sea. Columbus was on the Niña and
Aguado on the India; they kept plenty of water between them. Because of headwinds, it
took them twelve days to clear Hispaniola; two weeks later they stopped at Guadalupe.
The Admiral decided to stock up on native foods in case the journey took longer than
anticipated. Events later proved this to be a good decision.
A force of Carib women armed with bows and arrows who behaved in a very warlike
manner met the landing party. The Spaniards thought they were Amazons. Actually, the
Carib men were on the other side of the island hunting and tilling the land. The women
refused to supply the spaniards with food. Columbus took hostages, ten women and
three boys. One of the women was a cacique's lady who was caught when chased by a
Canary islander who ran faster than she did. When she saw that the "Canario‖ (as the
Spaniards referred to the Canary Island residents) was gaining on her, the woman turned
on him. She would have strangled him to death if his companions hadn‘t rescued him.
The Admiral traded most of the hostages for food, retaining the lady and her daughter.
He claimed they had "volunteered" to stay.
They left Guadelupe on April 20th. The homeward journey was not an easy one.
Contrary winds hindered progress, and food became scarce again. Columbus put
everyone on short rations. Some proposed they eat the Caribs, as this would only be
repaying them in their own coin. To his credit, the Admiral would have none of this, and
saved the natives. On June 8th, they made landfall on the Portuguese coast within 35
miles of where Columbus has said they would. Three days later, they entered the Bay of
Cadiz. The second voyage had ended.
Aftermath Of The Second Voyage
The return from Columbus's second voyage was of a far different tenor than that of the
flrst. A sad looking group of sallow faced, emaciated passengers disembarked at Cadiz.
Worn from their experiences in the New World and the long journey home, they brought
no great tidings or promises with them. Where was all that Spain had been led to expect
of the seventeen vessels that left so gallantly for the Indies? Where were the gold and
wealth of Cathay? Where was the gold to be mined from Hispaniola? Where were the
souls gained for Christianity through baptism of the natives? Where was the wealth to be
gained from trade in the newly discovered lands?
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His critics (of which there were many), and the average intelligent Spaniard, questioned
Columbus' claims of having found the mainland. Despite the sworn statements forced
from his crew, few would believe that Cuba was indeed the Asian mainland. As for
gold, some small amounts had come back, but hardly the amounts that most were led to
expect from Columbus' statements.
Hispaniola had proven far less profitable than the Portuguese colonies on the west coast
of Africa. What gold there was apparently could be obtained only by enslaving natives.
Isabela had turned out to be a miserable, unhealthy spot as demonstrated by the sickly
appearance of those who returned from it. They were described by their stay-at-home
compatriots as ―gold seekers who returned as yellow as gold but without its glitter.‖
The Admiral himself added nothing to the appearance of a triumphant return. He was
gaunt, his eyes were red and swollen, and his hair had turned white; he also sported a
ragged beard. To add to his almost mystic look, he took to wearing a robe much like that
worn by Franciscan monks. He was indeed pious and sincere in his faith and a devout
admirer of St. Francis, but there could well have been something of the theatrical in his
choice of costume. Columbus was well aware that he was in trouble with the King and
Queen. He also knew that many remembered his haughty behavior upon his return from
the first voyage, and were waiting to get even. Was he putting on a "humble" act?
Possibly. It would be hard to humiliate a man who had already humbled himself and
showed it in his demeanor and clothes. It would not be easy for the King and Queen to
rebuke someone who evidently had already suffered so much in their service.
To further his image, Columbus refused invitations to lodge in the palaces
of the wealthy and noble; he chose instead to lodge with a simple priest, Andres
Bernaldez, chaplain to the Archbishop of Seville. The good priest may have gotten more
than he bargained for in his guest list. In addition to the Admiral, Caonabo‘s brother "Don
Diego," and Juan de Fonseca, also stayed at his house. Fonseca could not have been
too happy with Columbus. He had been charged by their majesties with the responsibility
of dealing with the five hundred slaves the Admiral had sent earlier. Fonseca had been
instructed to sell the slaves. He was told, however, not to take any money for them until
an investigation had been completed regarding the manner and reason why the natives
had been made slaves, as well as the ethical and theological considerations of their
bondage. Columbus had created an unhappy situation for Fonseca; it was unlikely that
he would look kindly on the man that had caused his problems.
Columbus further compounded his relationship problem with Fonseca by regaling the
unhappy cleric with tales of the Indies. He told how he had ascertained that Cuba was
indeed the Asian mainland, and hoe it would probably lead to Cathay and the Great
Khan. Even the good host, Bernaldez, did not believe Columbus' theories and so
commented in his transcription of those historic conversations.
The royal family was busy with other matters. Because of Fernando's support of his
cousin Ferdinand of Naples and of border skirmishes with French troops, war with France
occupied the King's thoughts. The Queen was absorbed with the details of the upcoming
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marriages of her daughter the Infanta Doña Juana to Prince Philip the Handsome of
Burgundy. Philip was the son of the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian (who was neither
holy nor Roman but an Austrian king who held the title), and that of Prince Juan, heir to
the Spanish throne, to Princess Margaret, Philip‘s sister. Doña Juana‘s wedding was to
take place in Flanders (the Netherlands). A fleet of one hundred and thirty vessels with
an army of twenty five thousand men aboard, was to escort her to the wedding and also
bring princess Margaret to Spain.
In spite of all their obligations and concerns, the King and Queen found time to send
Columbus a letter in July offering him a cordial welcome. Given his long absence and
lack of communications, there had been some concern that Columbus might have
perished either on land or at sea. His return was probably viewed as something of a
mixed blessing. Nevertheless, in October, the sovereigns received him well at the court,
then in Valladolid.
On his way to court, Columbus displayed his talent for showmanship. With him were
Caonabo‘s brother, another member of the cacique's family, cages filled with screaming
parrots, exotic crafts and arts, and other New World paraphernalia. Whenever they
approached a village along the way, Columbus made Caonabo‘s brother put on a heavy
gold necklace worth some 260,000 maravedis, and the crown of Caonabo described as
"very big and tall with wings on its sides like a shield and golden eyes as large as silver
cups." The contrast of such splendor with the Admiral‘s stark Franciscan robe and
haggard features must have been striking. At court, in addition to this attention-getting
panoply, he also displayed anarray of gold nuggets of various sizes.
Columbus began his presentation to the sovereigns by making reference to the early
days when he had struggled so hard and long to be heard, and how he had been
thought wrong but in the end had proven himself right. He then went on to support his
theory of having discovered mainland Asia and seven hundred islands, including
Hispaniola -- which had a seashore longer than Spain's. He described the terrible
complexities of trying to mine the gold, of which there was much, he said, in a country
where there were no roads and his men, in addition to being sick, had to be on the
defense against the potential of treacherous native attacks.
Columbus assured the monarchs that there were rich veins of gold and copper on the
island. Pointing out the many advantages derived from exploration and discovery, he
commented on how the Kings of Portugal had persevered over such a long period before
they began to reap the benefits of their investments in similar endeavors. He also argued
in favor of a third voyage. He was eloquent and carried the day. He was also lucky; the
new King of Portugal, known as ―Manuel the Fortunate‖, was said to be organizing a
large overseas expedition whose destination was unknown but could be to the Indies.
Even Henry VII of England had expressed an interest in finding a sea route to the land of
the Great Khan.
The Spanish monarchs did not know if Columbus had really found the Asian mainland, or
if he had come across a new part of the world. Perhaps it was the way to the Antipodes
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believed to be south of the equator offsetting Africa. One thing they did know; Spain,
through Columbus, had arrived there and they did not want to give up this advantage.
The Third Voyage
Columbus's character was very much like the native gold he so much desired, a blend of
noble and base metals. His noble traits raised him to exalted heights; his flaws brought
him down. Over reliance on any strength becomes a weakness. Columbus knew he was
gifted in certain ways and he relied on it, more than he should have. As is so often the
case with men who are the cause of their own downfall, Columbus could not understand
why things seemed to come unraveled for him. How could someone who was so,
religious and faithful not be favored by God in all his endeavors?
Columbus spoke directly to God each day of his life, and felt his mission was in many
ways divinely inspired. That faith sustained him through trying times and brought him
through many dangerous moments. His reliance on faith and divine guidance to bring
him through all situations may have blinded him to the need to seek other solutions.
Those who believe they have divine guidance or inspiration may not be inclined to listen
to other points of view or accept counsel In fact, their righteousness may be perceived as
arrogant and offensive.
Fernando and Isabel were capable monarchs; they understood the uses of power, and
knew how to employ wealth to consolidate it. They occupied themselves with matters of
statehood, and their goals were mostly political. Columbus understood this to some
degree and used his knowledge ably to further his cause with the monarchs. His
obsession with gold, however, led him to believe that if he produced enough of it, all other
concerns and goals would be put aside. To some extent he was right, for the political
aims of kings always require ample funding, of which there is never enough. With most
monarchs of the period, that fact would have been more than enough to keep him in favor
indefinitely. Fernando and Isabel had broader views, and could rise above strictly
pecuniary considerations; in this and many other ways, they were unusual monarchs.
While Columbus was eager to begin organizing preparations for this third voyage, their
majesties had other pressing concerns. The fleet that was supposed to bring Margaret of
Austria, their future daughter in law, was delayed. The weather had been consistently
bad. The court was now at Burgos, and Columbus had been busy negotiating the terms
of the third voyage. The sovereigns left Burgos on their way to Soria, still worried about
the delayed fleet. That same day, Columbus sent them a note indicating that the wind
had changed and, after waiting for it to prove steady, the fleet would probably set sail that
Wednesday. If it did not stop at the Isle of Wight, it would most likely make Spanish port
by Monday of the following week. Sure enough, a lead ship tghat had not called at Wight
for supplies, made port at Laredo on that Monday. The Admiral‘s stock at court rose
again. The Queen was especially grateful, and on August 18, 1496, wrote Columbus
thanking him for his timely and wise advice.
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In March of the following year, the young Prince Juan married Princess Margaret uniting
the thrones of Spain and Austria. Columbus continued maneuvering and negotiating until
on April 23rd he received a royal document granting him practically all the rights he
sought.
To top it off, his sons were appointed pages to the court. As for the colonization of
Hispaniola, since the natives would not and could not be made to work, it would be
necessary to settle the land with Spaniards who would be willing to till the land, grow
crops, raise cattle, and develop local industry. Unfortunately, after the news of the
second voyage and the hardships faced by the Hispaniola settlers, few wanted to go to
the island, much less settle it. This time, it was necessary to offer pardons to convicts
willing to journey to the island and settle there. Besides, they were the only ones who
would travel without advance pay. Between the prisoners, regular settlers, and some
thirty women also recruited for the colony, approximately three hundred people would
journey to Hispaniola.
Columbus was promised six million maravedis by the King and Queen to finance the third
voyage. Unfortunately, the royal exchequer had been drained by royal marriages and
military campaigns. In the end, Columbus had to finance the trip with the
assistance of loans from Italian financiers. His worries were not over, however, as the
Crown had appointed his nemesis Juan de Fonseca as their representative for monitoring
the preparations of the voyage. Administrative detail was not Columbus's strong suit,
and having to stoop to attend such mundane matters drove him to distraction.
It must have been particularly irking to have to deal with unbending Fonseca and his
hard-nosed staff who held him to the limits and constraints of the contracts with the
sovereigns. Fonseca, who by this time had become Bishop of Badajoz, relied heavily on
an assistant by the name of Ximeno who seems to have had the singular ability to get
under the Admiral‘s skin. Ximeno was a "converso,'' a converted Jew. The Spaniards
looked with disfavor on conversos. Perhaps the fact that Ximeno granted him no special
favors (which Columbus probably expected) irritated him all the more.
As mentioned earlier, Columbus may also have been of Jewish ancestry. Whether he
knew it or not, or did not want to admit to it, is something else. But throughout his entire
career, Columbus had also received substantial help from Jews.
Exasperated by Ximeno's unforgiving attention to administrative minutiae, Columbus
determined to get even with the Bishop's punctilious assistant. On the day the expedition
was to depart for the Indies, and once Columbus was on deck and about to set sail, he
physically attacked Ximeno. Columbus knocked the exacerbating converso down, and
kicked him with all the strength of his pent up fury. (Some bureaucrats seem to inspire
and, perhaps even warrant, such treatment.) Columbus knew this would get him in
trouble with the King and Queen, so upon his arrival in Hispaniola, he wrote them giving
his version of the events. He especially stressed the fact that Ximeno was a converso
and, consequently, unreliable.
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On Wednesday, May 30th of 1498, the fleet of six ships set sail from Sanlucar de
Barrameda on the Guadalquivir River, about 60 kilometers south of the point of departure
of the first voyage. Because of the war with France, Columbus was careful to avoid
locations where French fleets might be patrolling. The fleet headed for the Portuguese
island of Madeira where Columbus had lived as a newlywed. On the way, the six ships
stopped at the island of Porto Santo, thoroughly frightening its inhabitants who thought
they might be French. On Sunday, June 10th, the fleet arrived at Madeira and stayed
there until Saturday the 16th. The next stop was at San Sebastian on the island of
Gomera where on his first and second voyages he had visited the attractive doña Beatriz
de Bobadilla.
A French corsair and some captured Castillian ships were anchored in the harbor.
Seeing six Spanish vessels bearing down on him, the French captain wisely opted for a
prompt retreat, taking one of the captured vessels with him. On the prize ship, six
Frenchmen were watching over six Spaniards. Columbus sent one of his swifter vessels
in pursuit. When the Spanish prisoners saw this, they overpowered their captors and
sailed the ship back to Gomera. Regarding his relationship with the lady governor, La
Capitana, nothing is said in his log. Of his stay on the island, he mentions only that the
fleet stocked up on cheese, which suggests not much else happened.
Tom between the need to provide support for his brother in Hispaniola, and his own need
to discover something new and great, especially the Asian mainland, Columbus decided
to split his fleet. He sent three vessels under Alonso de Carvajal to Hispaniola, and
retained one large ship and two caravels for exploration. In keeping with the belief of the
times that gold was more likely to be found near the equator, Columbus opted for a
southern route. He had been told by one of the Queen's advisors that he would probably
not find gold in greater quantities until he reached regions inhabited mainly by blacks and
parrots. (This may explain why he always made great display of parrots upon his return
from the Indies.) Setting a course west by south for Dominica, he stopped along the way
at the Cape Verde Islands off the west coast of Africa. Verde means green in Spanish;
Columbus indicated that the islands were green only in name. The heat was almost
unbearable, and the islands were occupied only by wild goats, tortoises, and lepers.
From the islands, Columbus followed a southwest course until the wind ran out. The
ships were becalmed for eight days in the equatorial heat. Everything and everyone
suffered from the heat; food spoiled, water dried up, casks burst, and the crew cursed.
Finally, the rains came bringing with them strong westerly winds. The men were so
exhausted that Columbus veered away from his original course turning ever more
northerly towards Dominica where he hoped to replenish the ships' water supplies. At
noon of July 31st, 1498, Columbus's servant, Alonso Perez, who had gone aloft, sighted
three peaks off the port side. Columbus had invoked the protection of the Holy Trinity for
this voyage. The fortunate coincidence of finding land with three peaks inspired him to
name the island: Trinidad.
The men were delighted to wash off the caked salt of their long journey through the
Tropical seas. Meanwhile, Columbus eagerly searched for parrots and black inhabitants.
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After a while, a canoe came by with twenty-five natives aboard who looked very much
like Caribs but were better behaved. Columbus tried to entice them with trinkets; the
natives refused to be impressed. Believing "music hath charms which soothe the savage
breast,‖ Columbus ordered drums, pipes and tambourines to be played, and commanded
the ship's boys to dance something lively to entertain and attract the natives. The plan
backfired. The natives thought it was a war dance, and loosed a volley of arrows.
Fortunately, no one was hurt.
From the anchorage off the coast of Trinidad, Columbus could see other peaks to the
south and thought they were islands, not realizing he was seeing the continental
mainland for the first time. While anchored off the southeastern tip of the island, volcanic
action caused a tidal wave to rush through the strait raising the ships to frightening
heights. It then dropped them to a point so low that they could see the bottom of the sea.
Columbus decided this was not a healthy place for his ships and moved them out into the
Gulf of Paria between the island of Trinidad and mainland Venezuela. Columubus
mistook The Paria Peninsula for another island, but he explored its southern shore. At
first, the local natives fled but when the ships approached the mouth of the Guiria River,
they appeared in large numbers. They brought gifts; fruits of the country including maize
(corn), and a fermented beverage made from maize called "Chicha.‖
This beverage is still produced in several Latin American countries. It has a sweet yet
sour bland taste. Taken in large quantities, it not only is intoxicating but also generates
monumental hangovers. Columbus's crew found Chicha refreshing. They almost
certainly did not know how the beverage was produced at that time. Native women
chewed the maize until it was soft and moist, then spat it into large clay pots where it was
left to ferment. The fermented product was then strained and served in gourds.
At one location, native women came aboard wearing strings of pearls. The Spaniards
were enthused by this because of the value of the pearls, and their association with the
Orient. Columbus was able to determine that they came from the other side of the
peninsula. A few days later, on his way to Hispaniola, Columbus would pass by Isla
Margarita and its abundant oyster beds unaware that he was close to a fortune in pearls
that could have enhanced his fortunes at court.
Afflicted with arthritis, insomnia, and eye inflammations, Columbus was eager to get back
to Hispaniola; he set course for that island. He had instructed his brother Bartholomew to
find a new location for a city on the southern shore of Hispaniola; they would call it Santo
Domingo in honor of their father. He did not know where Bartholomew had established
the city. As luck would have it, when he anchored off the island of Beata on the southern
side of Hispaniola, a small caravel was headed that way. Bartholomew was on board the
caravel searching for the other ships Columbus had sent from Spain. That was probably
Columbus's only bit of good luck on this voyage. First, he missed a fortune in pearls off
the coast of Venezuela. Now, he discovered that the three supply vessels under the
command of Alonso de Carvajal had missed Santo Domingo making port instead at
Xaragua where a rebellion was under way.
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Columbus had appointed Francisco Roldan alcayde (chief justice) of Isabela. Roldan
now declared himself in open rebellion against the Genoese brothers. Given the
desperate circumstances of the inhabitants of Isabela, and the harsh rule imposed by the
Admiral and his brothers, it was easy for Roldan to find malcontents willing to support his
sedition. With approximately 70 followers he moved to the southwestern end of the
island, known as the province of Xaragua. Coincidentally, this is where Caonabo‘s
widow, Anacona, lived under the protection of her brother, Cacique Behechio. Earlier,
Bartholomew had explored and subdued this part of the island; in the process, he
established a close relationship with Anacona. Contrary to expectations that she might
dislike the people responsible for her husband's death, Anacona was quite taken with the
Spaniards, especially the dashing young Adelantado himself.
Roldan advocated a policy of less work for the Spanish colonists, and better treatment for
the natives. He enjoyed the beauty of the land and the native women, and could see
nothing wrong with the native lifestyle of minimal work and maximum enjoyment of
nature's bounty. Compared to the Columbus brothers‘ idea of toil and exploitation,
Roldan's approach held much appeal for the tired and disillusioned colonists. Among
them were many of the criminals who had been released from jail to join the expedition.
Lacking the manpower to take the field against Roldan, Bartholomew tried to negotiate.
The attempt was unsuccessful. He then offered to give each of the rebels one or more
slaves. The rebels turned this offer down. Bartholomew's situation was further
complicated at this time by a native uprising under Cacique Guarionex. He acted quickly
defeating Guarionex, and obtained many captives for his slave trade.
By the time the Admiral reached Hispaniola, new gold mines had been found and there
were plenty of slaves to be sent back to Spain. Roldan's rebellion, however, was in full
bloom. Forty of the men on the three ships that had journeyed directly from Gomera and
stopped at Xaragua, joined the rebels. The commander, Alonso de Carvajal, stayed at
Xaragua in an attempt to persuade the rebels to return to the fold. He was unsuccessful.
Even at his best, Columbus never seemed to have too firm a grip on reality. He could not
understand the situation or Roldan, and didn‘t know how to deal with the rebellion. He
first tried to intimidate Roldan by invoking his powers as Viceroy. It didn‘t work. Columbus
then took stock of his manpower situation to see if he could resolve the matter by force.
An inventory quickly revealed he did not have enough men, and they were not in good
enough physical condition (many of them were wracked with syphilis and other
debilitating diseases) to tip the balance.
The Admiral then invited Roldan to confer with him, offering the rebel safe passage for
the meeting. Roldan came but was not conciliatory; the meeting was inconclusive. The
negotiations continued back and forth over weeks and months with Columbus becoming
increasingly appeasing, and Roldan ever more demanding and arrogant. In the end,
Roldan got almost everything he wanted, and Columbus was humiliated.
Columbus had delayed reporting on the results of his explorations and the situation in
Hispaniola. He now wrote a long rambling letter to the sovereigns detailing his discovery
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of the Gulf of Paria and surrounding area. With this information he sent pearls and maps.
He described his reasons (based on biblical texts) for believing the region to be the
original site of the Garden of Paradise, and outlined a plan for colonizing it. In his letter,
he also gave his version of the Roldan rebellion and requested the Crown send a wise
administrator of justice to oversee this function in the colony.
Between the slave issue, complaints of harsh treatment of both colonists and natives. the
beating of Ximeno, his strange and often disconnected behavior and ramblings, his
bizarre claim of discovery of the Earthly Paradise, and the plan to inflict his particular
style of "colonization" upon it, Columbus had seriously damaged his standing at Court.
The King and Queen seemed to have felt geniune affection for Columbus. But they were
also monarchs, and the distance between their hearts and minds was great -- as it should
be with rulers. They took steps to bring the chaotic situation in Hispaniola under control
In the meantime, as all correspondence between the Indies and Spain passed through
the hands of Juan de Fonseca, Columbus' letter, map and pearls, came under close
scrutiny by this diligent servant of the Crown. Young Alonso de Hojeda was with
Fonseca at the time and asked him to authorize an expedition to discover additional
lands (and pearls). Aware of Columbus's poor standing at the Court, Fonseca authorized
the expedition but gave Hojeda instructions to not intrude upon the preserves of the King
of Portugal nor those discovered by Columbus up to 1497. Why only up through 1497?
It might have had something to do with the fact that the Gulf of Paria was not discovered
until. 1498. The effects of this decision transcended well beyond the limits of the Gulf of
Paria. Aboard Hojeda's vessel were Juan de La Cosa, the mapmaker, and a Florentine
clerk from the house of Gianetto Berardo Berardi in Seville. Although the clerk's
accomplishments were minor compared to those of Columbus, his name would forever
be associated with the Admiral‘s discoveries. The clerk‘s name was Amerigo Vespucci.
The Indies were slipping away from Columbus' control. In addition to Hojeda's voyage,
which sailed on May 20th, 1499, Peralonso Niño, former captain of the Santa Maria,
traveled to the same area and harvested the pearls Columbus had missed. He also
discovered the Bay of Maracaibo where the sight of native houses built on stilts over the
water reminded him of Venice. He named it Little Venice or, in Spanish, ―Venezuela.‖
In 1500, charter was given to Rodrigo de Bastidas to discover new lands, which he did
sailing along the northern shores of Venezuela and Colombia reaching as far as the
isthmus of Panama. That same year, Pedro Alvares Cabral, a Portuguese mariner,
traveled too far west on a voyage to India and discovered Brazil. Close behind, Vicente
Yañez Pinzon, former captain of the Niña, discovered the mouth of the Amazon River.
Earlier, in 1497, John Cabot (Giovanni Caboto), a Genoese in the service of Henry VII of
England, sailed west from hoping to reach the Far East. Instead, he made landfall in
North America.
Word had reached the Spanish monarchs of the accord negotiated with Roldan in
Hlspaniola. As part of that agreement, a system of "Repartimientos" was set up; this
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consisted of assigning land and natives slaves to colonists. The system eventually
spread to all of Spanish America with the title of "Encomiendas"
(In Spanish, ―Repartimiento‖ comes the verb ―Repartir‖, to distibute, divide up. A
―Repartimiento‖ meant a dividing up and allotment of the land along the natives who
inhabited it. This became an ―Encomienda,‖ meaning "To give stewardship or put in
charge of", which was more of a Royal grant of the same rights.)
With matters clearly getting out of hand in Hispaniola, the sovereigns appointed a
distinguished and trusted nobleman, don Francisco de Bobadilla, Knight of the Order of
Calatrava, Royal Commissioner "with absolute powers over persons and properties".
Before Bobadiilla departed, rumors and allegations reached the sovereigns regarding a
special agreement between the Columbus brothers and Genoese interests. True or not,
the allegations had alarming connotations and more was now involved than just the
misgovernment of a territory. All this gave a greater sense of urgency to the mission of
Bobadilla who had been delayed in his departure for the Indies.
On Sunday, August 23 of 1500, Bobadilla arrived with three ships in the harbor of Santo
Domingo. The situation had further deteriorated. Among the first sights the Royal
Commissioner saw upon his arrival were the corpses of two Spaniards hanging from the
gallows. He soon discovered that a total of seven men had been hanged that week, and
five more were waiting. The Admiral was away at La Vega, and Bartholomew was at
Xaragua; only Diego Columbus, the weaker of the three brothers, was present. The
more Bobadilla probed, the worse things appeared. Men supposed to be on the salary
list had not been paid, and many of them were in desperate need of food and clothing.
Natives had been enslaved and mistreated, and rebellion was rife among the colonists.
The leader of this rebellion, Adrian de Muxica, had been captured with the collusion of
Roldan. Muxica was summarily sentenced to death, but the sentence was delayed until a
priest could be found elsewhere on the island to confess the condemned man's sins.
When the priest finally arrived, Muxica refused to confess arguing it had taken so long to
find a priest that he had forgotten his sins. Columbus finally lost his temper and reputedly
had Muxica thrown from a tower into the sea.
(When you visit Santo Domingo and see the shoreline, it is hard to visualize how this
might have been done. If there were any towers at the time, they couldn‘t have been
very tall. In addition, the tower would have had to be right up against the beach, which is
lined with sharp rocks. Further, it would have taken some pretty strong men to throw
Muxica beyond the rocks into the sea. Finally, this is unusual punishment. Why didn't
Columbus just hang Muxica as he had done with the other rebels?)
When the Admiral returned and, after some delay, finally met with Bobadilla the
Commissioner presented him with the letters that not only gave him unlimited powers but
also appointed him Governor. Columbus tried to intimidate Bobadilla stating that his
letters preceded and superseded anything the Commissioner might have received and, if
anything, Bobadilla owed him obedience! One can almost imagine the Admiral‘s haughty
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and indignant posture in the face of this unexpected situation, which so threatened his
authority, his visions of greatness, and everything he had worked and suffered for.
Columbus never did fully understand the Spaniards. He didn‘t know how to read them or
gain their support. He invariably underestimated the power of Spanish pride and its
influence on relationships with noblemen and commoners alike. He misread Bobadilla‘s
determination. By backing him into a corner, he forced the commissioner's hand. Left no
alternative, Bobadilla imprisoned Columbus and his brothers. Columbus shrugged
saying no one would dare lay a hand on him.
Again, he left Bobadilla no alternative. The Commissioner put the three brothers in irons
and sent them aboard ship for the journey back to Spain. The Admiral and Diego were
put aboard La Gorda. Bartholomew was sent back in a separate ship. Andrés Martin,
the captain of La Gorda, wanted to remove the fetters and leg irons but the Admiral would
not let him. He would not relieve the monarchs of the responsibility for this infamy
wrought upon the man who had brought them so many new lands and conquests.
The Queen, who had so staunchly supported Columbus in years past, had become a
different woman. In 1496 she had married off two of her children, Prince Juan to
Margarethe of Hapsburg, and Princess Isabel to King Manuel of Portugal. Shortly
afterwards, the nineteen-year old Prince succumbed to illness and died. The Princess,
who became Queen of Portugal, died giving birth to an heir to the throne. The child also
died within two years. The demands of power and the ravages of misfortune had taken
their toll on the Queen. Over fifty and in poor health, Isabel now lived without joy. As
busy as the King and Queen were with affairs of state and their own personal problems
and griefs, it is unlikely they would have had much time or the inclination to dwell on
Columbus and his feelings. Still, when the monarchs heard of Columbus' arrival in irons
at Cadiz, they were shocked and immediately ordered him set free. They also sent two
thousand ducats to ensure that he and his brothers could come to court in a manner that
suited their rank. Columbus, not one to forget an injury, thereafter kept the fetters in his
chambers and ordered they be buried with him.
As soon as he arrived in Spain, Columbus sent a letter to the sister of Antonio Torres,
doña Juana, who had been governess of Prince Juan and was close to the Queen. In his
letter, the Admiral outlined his achievements in behalf of their majesties, and poured out
his bitterness at the injustices inflicted upon him. He knew this information would reach
the Queen's ear, and hoped to set the stage for his meeting with the sovereigns. They, in
turn, had a busy schedule and could not meet with him soon, even if they had wanted to - which may not have been the case. Having arrived in late October of 1500, Columbus
was made to cool his heels until December of that year. It is possible the Monarchs also
realized that this waiting period would force the Admiral to reflect upon the seriousness of
his misdeeds and to forget some of his anger and hurt.
How one may feel about Columbus' behavior and his cruelty to both colonists and
natives, the scene at the court in Granada upon his arrival there on December 17th,
1500, is heart wrenching. The proud discoverer of new continents and new worlds came
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before the monarchs in the Alhambra tormented by guilt, remorse, and fear of their
justice. Torn by emotions, Columbus was unable to speak. He fell to his knees and burst
helplessly into tears and sobs.
The King and Queen spoke to him softly and bade him stand. Recovering his
composure, Columbus spoke of his loyalty and deeds, and explained his errors as having
been committed in good faith. He then launched into a vehement tirade against Bobadilla
reciting the injuries received from him, including the fetters and irons which he would
"wear in his heart forever." He wanted these wrongs righted and Bobadilla, the
perpetrator of such indignities, recalled and punished.
Columbus' behavior was now reaching a level of bizarreness that could only strengthen
the monarchs' resolve to isolate him from situations where he would have to govern and
make policy decisions. His rantings and ravings, both in letters and speech, raised
serious questions about his emotional stability and his contact with reality. He seemed to
see himself as a messenger of God, destined to steadily accomplish ever-greater deeds.
He supported this view with quotes from biblical.sources and a melange of medieval
myths and superstitions mixed with scientific lore of the period. During the weeks he
remained at the Alhambra awaiting the royal decisions, he began compiling a book of
prophecies from which he drew the conclusion that his next mission should involve no
less than the reconquest of Jerusalem and the recovery of the Holy Sepulcher.
The royal decision was handed down nine months later, September 3, 1501. Bobadilla
would be recalled. Although his administration had been generally recognized as good,
he had made the mistake of allowing the collection of gold without paying the Crown's
tax. He further compounded his mistake by granting a grace period of twenty years.
Columbus did not win a complete victory; he was not reappointed governor, nor was he
allowed to return to Hispaniola. That honor went to don Frey Nicolas de Ovando who
received instructions from the Crown to ensure that Columbus and his brothers were
returned all the personal property confiscated by Bobadilla.
With Machiavellian wisdom and a poetic sense of justice, the monarchs awarded Ximeno
the responsibility of providing the Admiral with an accounting of goods taken in trade to
the Indies, so he could pay his eighth of the expenses and receive his eighth of the
profits. (It is hard to believe that Ximeno would riot bear a grudge for the beating
administered to him by Columbus on the deck of the flagship just before the beginning of
the third voyage.) The monarchs also authorized Columbus to appoint a representative to
verify all gold and commercial operations of which he was to receive a tenth. He chose
Alonso de Carvajal. Ovando, the new governor, sailed for Hispaniola with a fleet of thirty
two vessels, two thousand five hundred men, and twelve Franciscan friars. The fleet left
Sanlucar de Barrameda, February 13, 1502, under the command of Antonio de Torres.
The High Voyage.
The decision to place his affairs in the hands of Alonso de Carvajal turned out to be a
wise one. Carvajal was an honest and scrupulous man; his care and attention to detail
soon made Columbus a wealthy man. Columbus was fifty, old by the Standards of that
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time, and suffering from ills of both age and years of hardship. He could have retired to
an estate somewhere in Andalucia to live out his remaining years in peace and prosperity
enjoying the still considerable fame of his exploits.
Not Columbus. He now embarked upon another adventure, which he referred to in his
own writings as The High Voyage. He wrote to the monarchs advocating a voyage to
discover a sea passage through the newly discovered lands to the Indian Ocean. By
now, the sovereigns may have believed that Columbus at sea was less trouble than
Columbus anywhere else. With unusual celerity, on March 14, 1502, they approved his
request of February 26th and granted him 10,000 ducats to finance the expedition. They
instructed him to concentrate on his discoveries and on finding gold, silver, pearls,
precious stones, and spices - but no slaves. He was not allowed to visit Hispaniola with
the exception of a short stop on his return voyage to replenish victuals, and only if
necessary. He was given a letter of introduction to Vasco da Gama in the hope that he
might meet with him in India.
Columbus chose four caravels of approximately the same size and characteristics as the
Niña. The flagship was captained by Diego de Tristan who had shipped with the Admiral
on his second voyage. The name of the vessel is not known but it was referred to as La
Capitana. The second vessel was La Gallega (the Galician) commanded by Pedro de
Terreros, the only man to ship with Columbus on all four of his voyages. 'The third vessel
was the Santiago de Palos, captained by Francisco Porras. Porras and his younger
brother were along because their sister was the mistress of the Treasurer of Castille and
"she willed it." The fourth vessel was the Vizcaina commanded by Bartolomeo Fieschi, a
Genoese.
In contrast with earlier voyages, there were more young boys among the crew; they were
probably chosen because they could be worked harder, paid less, and would grumble
less. Also along were two trumpeters - purpose unknown, two Arabic-speaking crew
members (again on the assumption that Arabic might have been a common language for
communicating in the Orient), and an Irish wolfhound to be used in warfare against the
natives. Dogs of war would become an integral part of future expeditions -- and a source
of terror to the natives.
The Fourth Voyage.
April 3 of 1502, Columbus' four ships slipped out of Seville traveling down the
Guadalquivir River to a place called Casa del Viejo, (literally, The Old Man's House).
There, the ships' bottoms were cleaned, caulked, and covered with pitch to protect them
against barnacles and other threats, especially Teredo worms. These mollusks,
abundant in tropical waters, could auger their way through any wooden hull quickly
converting it into a sieve. On this trip, the pitch would not help much; the Teredos later
became a serious problem for Columbus' ships.
Contrary winds kept the fleet at Cadiz until May llth when it sailed for its first stop, the port
of Arcila in Morocco. Arcila was under siege by the Moors. By the time Columbus
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arrived, they had left. Columbus sent his brother, Bartholomew, and his captains to offer
their services to the Portuguese commander who had been wounded in the action. The
commander thanked them but declined their offer as the siege had already been lifted. In
turn, the commander offered to put Columbus in contact with certain local.residents who
were relations of his deceased wife, doña Felipa Perestrello e Moniz,
On May 20th, the fleet arrived at Las Palmas in the Canary Islands. There was no trip to
Gomera this time. Perhaps it had something thing to do with the fact that doña Beatriz
de Pedraza y Bobadilla had since remarried. (We do not know if doña Beatriz was
related to the don Francisco de Bobadilla who placed Columbus in irons. Given the
smaller size of Spain‘s population at the time, it is likely that she was which would provide
another explanation for Columbus‘ decision to not visit her.) On May 25th the fleet set
sail for the Indies.
The outward voyage was uneventful. The fleet arrived at Martinique on June 15th. The
next three days were spent allowing the crew to recover from the rigors of the crossing.
Disregarding orders, Columbus immediately set sail for Santo Domingo. He had several
excuses, chief among them was that one of vessels was not well suited for his mission
and he wished to trade it for another. The ship was the Santiago de Palos, known as La
Bermuda (after the owner's name, Bermudez). He considered the Bermuda a sluggish
sailer, but felt she would probably be good for carrying cargo back to Spain.
On the way to Santo Domingo he detected signs of a hurricane in the making. It was a
little early for the hurricane season to begin. But having been through two of them in
earlier voyages, Columbus recognized the warning signs of the massive tropical
depression that usually precedes the storm itself. Light gusting winds flit along the
surface of the water, accompanied by long, slow rolling swells from the southeast. The
vanguard of the storm advanced westward pushing high clouds across milky skies.
These indicators, added to an unusual increase surface activity of sea mammals such as
manatees, seals, and porpoises, convinced Columbus he should seek shelter for his
ships. He had experienced the power of hurricanes, and wanted to be in a safe harbor to
ride this one out.
Arriving off Santo Domingo, he sent Pedro de Terreros ashore with a message to
Ovando whose fleet was in the harbor. He warned the governor of the signs of the
impending hurricane and requested permission to shelter his ships in the harbor. Aware
that Ovando's fleet was probably about to sail, he recommended delaying its departure
until the storm had passed. Columbus had so discredited himself in the eyes of Spanish
nobility that Ovando and his men laughed at this "Prophet of the winds."
Ovando's fleet left Santo Domingo on schedule, and headed eastward toward the Mona
Passage between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico. The fleet had just entered the Mona
Passage when the hurricane roared in from the northeast slamming down upon the ships
with all its fury. The fleet was caught completely by surprise. Screaming winds tore
through the ships. Billowing sails ripped into shreds in seconds. Spars broke in half
plunging down upon decks and scrambling seamen equally. Soon the sound of snapping
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masts echoed throughout the fleet. The previously sparkling blue waters of the
Caribbean turned angry dark gray as mountainous waves crashed down on the puny
vessels quickly pounding them into splinters. Within minutes, nineteen of the battered
ships capsized and disappeared into the thrashing waters with all hands on board.
Several ships were driven towards the shore, but it offered no safe harbor in this area.
Those that didn‘t run aground broke up on rocky reefs. For a while six more vessels
struggled valiantly against the winds and the waves. In the end they too disappeared
beneath the angry waters.. Amazingly, some of the men aboard them survived after
spending hours in the angry waters. Four battered vessels, all on the verge of sinking,
limped back into Santo Domingo harbor with news of the disaster. The roster of those
lost included many names prominent in Columbus's past. Among them, Antonio de
Torres, commander of the fleet, Francisco de Bobadilla who had imprisoned Columbus,
Roldan the fractious rebel of Xaragua, and poor, unfortunate Guarionex who met his fate
still wearing the irons of a prisoner. Close to a million dollars in gold was lost with the
fleet.
Only one ship of Ovando's fleet, the smallest, made it through the storm and arrived
safely in Spain. It was La Aguia (The Needle). As luck would have it, Alonso de
Carvajal, Columbus' envoy, was on board La Aguja, and so was Columbus‘ gold -- which
Carvajal had recovered from Bobadilla (who also went down with the fleet.)
Denied safe harbor at Santo Domingo, Columbus sought shelter for his ships to the west
at the mouth of the Jaina River. There, his ships rode out the storm well, but the three
smaller ones broke their anchor cables and were blown out to sea. Columbus thought he
would never see them again and worried about his brother Bartholomew on the Bermuda.
During the hurricane, the captain of La Bermuda, Francisco Porras, became so ill that he
found it necessary to take to his bunk. Although Bartholomew had no specific command
authority, he showed his true mettle by taking charge and bringing the ship safely through
the storm.
After the storm, Columbus sailed his ship to Puerto Viejo de Azua, the rendezvous point
where they had agreed would meet in the event of separation. That Sunday, July 3rd, all
four of the vessels arrived at the rendezvous point within hours of one another. Such a
feat of seamanship would be considered outstanding even in this day and age with the
advantages of radio, radar, and satellite navigation.
After resting for several days, the fleet headed toward Jamaica, sailed along its southern
coast, and then headed north to Cuba. On July 27th, the wind began to blow from the
northeast. During the following three days, the fleet was blown across the Gulf of Mexico
traveling 360 miles to the islands off the coast of Honduras. The fleet then sailed another
thirty miles to Cape Honduras on the Central American mainland.
Columbus' mental map was based on assumed geography of Asia as derived from
ancient and medieval writings and legends. He believed himself halfway down the
Malaysian Peninsula. According to his mental position, the Strait of Malacca was to the
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southeast, so he set course to the south following the Central American coastline.
Fighting contrary winds, the fleet tacked to the east in the morning and rode the winds
back to the shore in the afternoon. It took twenty-eight days to cover roughly two
hundred miles.
The trip was sheer misery for both men and ships. The days were filled rain, wind, and
rough seas followed by soggy, mosquito-infested nights anchored off mangrove swamps.
Fatigue, fear, and desperation took their toll on the men. At times their fear became so
great that they prepared for death by hearing one another's last confession. The ships
lost cables, rigging, sails, anchors, boats, and supplies. Suffering from various ailments,
Columbus had a small shelter built for himself on the poop deck. From there, he gave
commands and guidance. On September 14th, the fleet rounded a cape finally obtaining
some relief from the steady effort of fighting the wind. Much relieved by this change of
pace, Columbus named the cape Cabo Gracias a Dios (Cape Thank God).
Although the winds continued to blow from the east, the shape and angle of the coastline
allowed Columbus to use the prevailing winds to safely follow its contours southward. He
anchored off the mouth of the Rio Grande in Nicaragua to replenish supplies and water.
There, two men drowned while trying to cross the bar at the entrance to the river.
Columbus named the river, Rio de los Desastres (River of the Disasters).
In the following days, they traveled down the coast past the River San Juan del Norte to
the island of Uva, opposite what today is the city of Puerto Limón in Costa Rica. The
natives offered to trade their gold, but it was Guanin, gold of poor quality, and Columbus
was not interested. Taking advantage of the relatively calm weather of the moment,
Columbus sent a hunting party ashore. The hunters were gone for several days and
returned with an interesting variety of local fauna, including two wild boar and a live
spider monkey.
October 5, the fleet set sail again continuing to follow the shoreline south in search of a
passage the Indian Ocean. That evening they found themselves in a channel, which led
to a great bay; they named it ―Almirante‖ in Columbus' honor. They found natives
wearing large pectoral disks of fine quality gold. As can be expected, trade was brisk.
Using sign language, Columbus asked about a passage leading to a large body of water.
The natives responded to the best of their ability pointing to a narrow channel which they
said would lead to such a place.
The fleet entered the channel; it was so narrow that at times the spars and the rigging
entangled in the trees. Eventually, they did arrive at a large body of water; it was not the
ocean but Chiriqui Lagoon in Panama. The fleet stayed there for several days resting
and trading with the natives who told of an ocean on the other side of the mountains.
There, they told the Admiral he would find people who traveled in vessels as large as
their own, with cannon, horses, and fine clothing. Columbus consulted his bible to
determine where he might be. He concluded that he was in the land of Ophir of King
Solomon's time.
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Unable to find a passage between the seas, Columbus concentrated on collecting gold
and establishing trade with the natives. October 17th, a westerly wind arose that allowed
Columbus to move his ships out of the lagoon. He continued to follow the shoreline.
Fighting contrary winds he sailed to Limon Bay, the entrance to today's Panama Canal.
Along the way he found no suitable harbor, or friendly natives; therefore he avoided the
area. By so doing, he missed a gold-producing region (just as he had missed the pearl
fisheries of Isla Margarita off of Venezuela).
On the eve of the feast of Saint Simon, the 28th of October, the rainy season set in with a
vengeance. The day after the feast of All Saints, November 2nd, the fleet escaped the
winds by entering a harbor the Admiral called Puerto Bello (Beautiful Port). A few days
later, the fleet headed east but encountered such winds that it turned back, anchoring at
a place Columbus called Puerto de Bastimentos (Port of Supplies). Later, the port would
be renamed Nombre de Dios (God's Name) and become a key stop for the treasure fleet
as it made the rounds of the Caribbean. Columbus then moved on to a new area called
El Retrete (The Retreat), where the men tried to initiate trade in their usual fashion, but
the natives were not receptive to their overtures. The fleet was now near the San Blas
Islands where, to this day, the natives have preserved their racial and tribal identity, as
well as their language.
(While living in Panama, I attempted to learn this dialect with the help of a San Blas
native who patiently tried to teach me. Languages have always come easily to me, but
this dialect was beyond my talents. I thought learning the numbers from one to twenty
would be a logical and easy way to start. I discovered that each progressive number
embodied many components of each of those that preceded it. The structure was logical,
but by the time we reached nineteen, I gave up; it was too cumbersome.)
The hostility of the local natives persuaded Columbus to weigh anchor, and return to the
area of Veragua (where he had missed the gold). By December 5th, the fleet reached
Puerto Bello, but the weather turned foul again. It rained hard and incessantly, and the
seas were rough. Fighting the winds and the currents, the fleet made little progress. The
men despaired of ever surviving the incredible storms with their winds, lightning and
thunder. They were totally worn out, and even hoped for death to put an end to their
misery. Columbus suffered no less than his men. To make matters worse, a wound he
had received earlier reopened during this period causing him severe discomfort. When
the storms and winds finally abated, they then were becalmed for two days. During this
time, large schools of sharks swam around the vessels making the men very nervous.
(The waters off Panama teem with sharks. I remember flying over the area in a
helicopter about two hundred feet above the surface, and being amazed at the size and
numbers of sharks to be seen swimming about. Hammerheads were particularly
abundant. Only a few weeks earlier, I had been swimming in those waters blissfully
ignorant of the potential danger. I never swam there again.)
By Christmas, the fleet had made it back to Puerto Gordo, the site of the present day port
of Cristobal and the entrance to the Panama Canal. Columbus was close to the River
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Chagres; had he traveled a few miles upstream in a canoe, he would have been within
twelve miles of the Pacific Ocean. He and his men were too worn out to even consider
major physical effort, much less attempt it.
At the time of the Feast of the Three Wise Men, the 6th of January, 1503, the fleet finally
made it back to Veragua and found a small but safe harbor at the mouth of the Belen
River (named after the town of Bethlehem). The fleet had just entered the harbor when
another tropical storm struck. On January 24th, heavy rains upstream caused the river to
flood suddenly almost dragging the fleet on to the sand bar at the entrance to the river. It
continued to rain and flood for two more weeks. According to Columbus, it rained
steadily through the 14th of February.
December and January are usually the dry months in this area, but rainy seasons vary.
Sometimes it rains endlessly. Others, it rains intermittently, but so frequently that even
when it is not raining, the skies are so dark and threatening that it seems as if the
downpour never stopped. The heat and humidity can be mind numbing. It is impossible
to even stand still without sweating profusely. The humidity brings with it a plethora of ills
ranging from sinus headaches and infections to that terribly uncomfortable and most
miserable of afflictions called Tinea Cruris or Jock itch. Fungus and mold sprout
everywhere, and every type of ferrous metal corrodes rapidly. And, as if anything else
were needed to complete human discomfort, insects thrive and proliferate during this
season.
Earlier, the Admiral had sent his brother , Bartholomew, in the ships' boats to explore the
shore westward. Entering by a river which they named Veragua (Which means ―To See
Water‖), they came to the region of a cacique named Quibian. Quibian was friendly, and
cordial relations were established. After the 6th of February, the sea calmed down and
Columbus was able to move the ships out of the harbor. At that same time, Bartholomew
led an expedition into the interior where he found many mines. Using only their knives,
the Spaniards extracted enough good quality gold to make them happy. Convinced of
the region's potential, Bartholomew persuaded his brother to establish a settlement there.
They called it Santa Maria de Belen. The plan was for Bartholomew to hold the fort until
reinforcements could be sent from Spain.
Quibian, who at first thought his visitors were only passing through, suddenly realized the
Spaniards' intentions. He and his people were already unhappy with the visitors'
behavior towards their women and their belongings. Quibian placed men in canoes near
the settlement to observe the Spaniards' activities. An hidalgo, Diego Mendez,
volunteered to follow the canoes in one of the ships' boats to spy on them. He came
upon an encampment with thousands of warlike natives. With incredible audacity, he
rowed ashore to observe closer. He then retired to a safer distance where he watched
the natives all through the night. Realizing they had lost the advantage of surprise,
natives returned to their village.
After reporting to Columbus, Mendez went back to the village. Howling with anger, the
natives surrounded him. Mendez did the unexpected; calmly pulling out a barber's kit he
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had his companion, Rodrigo de Escobar, trim his hair. The stratagem worked. The
natives were astounded by these strange actions. They quieted down and became
absorbed with the process. Quibian asked to have his hair trimmed too.
Upon completing this demonstration of tonsorial skill, Mendez presented the cacique with
the shears, the mirror and the comb. The unflappable Mendez then calmly took leave
and departed without any resistance on the part of the natives.
Columbus did not want to leave his brother with the settlement as long as there was the
possibility of hostile action on the part of the natives. Therefore, he placed the daring
Mendez in charge of setting up an ambush to capture Quibian. The ambush was a
complete success; the cacique and several of his companions, as well as the gold
objects they were carrying, were captured and taken down river toward the settlement.
Quibian, however, managed to escape and organized the resistance against the
invaders.
By April all the ships had been seriously damaged by Teredos. Columbus felt he would
soon be unable to keep them afloat. He had three of the vessels towed over the bar
towards the sea. The Gallega was to be left behind for the use of the garrison. On April
6th, when there were only twenty men and the Irish wolfhound at the fort, four hundred
natives attacked. The Spaniards were able to beat them off. The hound played a large
role in terrorizing the natives during this engagement.
While the Spaniards at the settlement were busy defending themselves, Diego de
Tristan, captain of La Capitana, was at another location with a landing party replenishing
the flagship's water supplies. A party of natives surprised the seamen killing the captain
and nine of his men. Only one Spaniard escaped.
The weather turned bad again at this point. For several days, Columbus was unable to
send a rescue party into the harbor. During this time he suffered from malarial fevers and
became delirious on more than one occasion. His hallucinations were, of course, of a
religious nature. He heard a voice he believed was that of God who told him to fear not
and have trust. With Columbus partially disabled, the crew lacked direction. There was
too much to do, and the men were spread out among the vessels and the settlement. It
became impossible to maintain a proper guard over the hostages. Taking advantage of
the decreased vigilance, some of the imprisoned natives escaped; those who were
unable to do so hanged themselves from the beams below deck.
With no hostages to force compliance from Quibian, Columbus realized his brother and
the men at the settlement were at great risk. He asked for a volunteer to swim across the
bar and contact the men at the garrison. The Spaniards never lacked for men of
courage. Pedro de Ledesma volunteered to attempt the dangerous mission. After a
long, anxiety-laden wait, Columbus was much relieved when de Ledesma successfully
returned with a message from Bartholomew suggesting the garrison be abandoned.
Recalling the experience of Villa de la Navidad, Columbus agreed to the evacuation.
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The enterprising Diego Mendez built a raft and hauled all the men, as well as most of
their supplies, over the bar. Santa Maria de Belen was abandoned and with it, still sitting
in the harbor, was La Gallega.
The three remaining vessels, Capitana, Vizcaina and Bermuda, started the return voyage
to Santo Domingo on Easter Sunday, April 16th, 1503. The fleet hugged the coast to
take advantage of offshore breezes. The three vessels were worm-eaten and almost
unseaworthy. Keeping them afloat demanded constant effort. The crew manned the
pumps day and night. The men worked hard, but they also criticized the Admiral for
allowing the ships to fall into in such poor condition. The only vessel he had careened
was the Capitana, left behind in Santa Maria de Belen. The remaining ships were
infested with Teredos.
By the time they reached Puerto Bello, the Vizcaina had to be abandoned. Her crew was
divided up among the remaining two vessels. Continuing along the Panamanian
coastline, the ships passed the San Blas Islands and the Archipelago of Las Mulatas.
From there, they continued to a point near Punta de Mosquitos approaching the Gulf of
Darien, which is bordered by Panama on the west and Colombia on the east. Here, a
disagreement arose between Columbus and his pilots regarding their position.
They disagreed about their position. The pilots and the captains, relying on one
another‘s calculations and some wishful thinking, placed their position at a line directly
south of Guadaloupe. Columbus wanted to continue along the northern shore of the
South American mainland (although he would not have referred to it in those terms) until
they reached Cabo de la Vela on the Peninsula of Guajira at the eastern end of
Colombia. A straight line north from this position would have taken the vessels directly to
Hispaniola. This was no longer the strong Columbus of the first voyage who per-severed
in the face of opposition and threats. Tired and worn out by malaria, arthritis, and failure,
he gave in.
On May 1, 1503, the ships headed north. After twelve days of sailing close to the wind
they arrived in Cuba at the archipelago Columbus had named ―The Queen's Garden‖ on
his second voyage. Anchoring in a small harbor they were overtaken by a violent storm
which snapped the Vizcaina‘s anchor cable. With luck, they were able to hold both ships
with the Capitana‘s cable.
The ships continued their voyage eastward along the southern shore of Cuba, but
adverse winds kept progress to a minimum. Columbus decided to stand out to sea in
hopes of making the Windward Passage between Cuba and Hispaniola. About a
hundred miles off of Hispaniola, the La Bermuda began to take on water at an alarming
rate. Columbus knew he could not continue to run his leaky ships against the wind, and
decided to run with the wind to reach the nearest land, Jamaica. With the water almost
at deck level, the ships made Saint Ann's Bay in Jamaica on June 25th. Columbus ran
the ships aground and propped them up to keep them on an even keel The ships were
no longer seaworthy; the men were marooned. Thus began one of the toughest years in
the Admiral‘s life.
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The nearby natives were friendly, but Columbus knew from experience they could not
remain so for long in the presence of Spaniards. The men built thatched palm huts on
the decks of the marooned vessels. Columbus gave an order that no man was to go
ashore without his permission. Food quickly became a problem. Columbus called upon
Diego Mendez to command a foraging party. Mendez and his men traveled to the
eastern end of the island where they purchased a dugout canoe and returned to base
with abundant provisions. Mendez set up a barter agreement of so many trinkets per
specific item of food.
Historians wonder why Columbus and his men were unable to fend for themselves by
fishing, picking wild fruit and growing their own crops. There are no good answers to
these questions. It is possible they saw themselves only as seamen lacking the skills to
do land chores. They may have looked down upon such labors. The question also
arises, why did they not attempt to build a ship that could get all or some of them to
Hispaniola? This type of initiative may have been too much to expect of men who had
known nothing but terrible weather, fear, fatigue and hunger for several months.
Columbus might have thought of it, but he was too tired and ill to do anything about it.
Finally, Columbus decided something must be done to get off of the island. He called
Diego Mendez and asked him if he would be willing to attempt a voyage in the dugout
across the 108 miles of open sea between the two islands. Diego, demurred stating that
the rest of the men viewed him as the Admiral‘s favorite because he was always chosen
to head up the difficult tasks. He suggested Columbus gather the men and ask for a
volunteer among them. Certain that there would be no takers, Diego said he would then
be able to volunteer without suffering the criticism that might have arisen had the Admiral
chosen him without offering the same opportunity to the rest of the men. As Diego
predicted no one volunteered, and so he offered his services for this mission.
To make the dugout more seaworthy, they gave it a false keel, planking front and aft to
keep water from lapping in, and also fitted it with mast and sail. Diego set out with
another Spaniard, six natives, and food and water for all of them. Journeying to the
northernmost part of the island, they waited there for a favorable wind. In the meantime,
the natives had decided to get rid of the two Spaniards. Diego suspected their motives
and, in the dark of the night, slipped away in the dugout with his companion. They
returned to base and requested an escort to get them to the point where they could wait
for favorable winds. The Genoese sea captain, Bartolomeo Fieschi, volunteered to
command another canoe. Accompanied by an escort of several canoes commanded by
Bartholomew Columbus, the dugouts reached the take-off point at the northern end of the
island and headed out to sea.
In two dugouts, the Spaniards and their native crews struck out for Hispaniola. The sea
was calm, exactly as they wanted. By today's standards, this probably would not be
considered an exceptionally long trip by small boat, but neither Spaniards nor natives
were used to open sea crossings of this type. All of the men took equal turns at the oars.
In the heat of the first day they suffered strong thirsts.
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By the following morning, the natives had drunk their entire water ration; Mendez and
Fieschi shared their own with the natives. On the second night, one of the natives died
and his body was tossed overboard. Mendez and Fieschi slept lightly -- if at all -- as they
did not know if they could trust their companions who had probably not volunteered for
this duty. During the third day they continued rowing; they were desperate, and there
was nothing else to do. By now several of the natives were lying senseless in the bottom
of the dugouts. They hoped to reach the island of Navassa at the 78-mile point on the
journey, but there was nothing in sight. It seemed hopeless. During the night, as the
moon rose, Diego Mendez observed a shadow at its lower end.
The next morning they landed at Navassa. Not a tree was visible on the small island, but
there was fresh water in the depressions among the rocks. All of the men drank their fill.
Some of the natives drank excessively, and a few of them died as a result. They rested
during that day, starting a fire and cooking shellfish. At nightfall, they headed for
Hispaniola which they had been able to see during the daylight hours. The following
morning they arrived at Cape San Miguel, on the western end of the island. There,
Mendez recruited six more natives and, after a couple of days rest, made it Azua where
their ships had sought refuge from the hurricane on the outward bound voyage. He
learned that Ovando was in Xaragua and, leaving the dugout, he traveled two hundred
miles on foot. Ovando, who is not remembered for his compassionate nature, was not
moved by Mendez's courage or by Columbus' plight.
Although Mendez reached Ovando in August of 1503, the governor kept him from
reaching Santo Domingo until March of 1504. Ovando had enough vessels at his
disposal to have rescued Columbus immediately. He probably felt, however, that
Jamaica was as close as he wanted to have this troublesome and arrogant visionary. He
finally allowed Mendez to walk to Santo Domingo in search of a vessel he could charter.
It was nearly the end of May by the time Mendez was able to send a ship with supplies to
Columbus. Having done so, he then went on to Spain as instructed by the Admiral
Idle hands are said to be the Devil‘s instruments and on Jamaica there were plenty of
them. The lack of adequate food and proper work combined with the climate and the
winter storms to exacerbate the men's unrest. In addition to his original health problems,
Columbus was now affected with gout, and could barely walk. The politically appointed
Porras brothers (related to the mistress of the finance minister) headed up a mutiny.
They accused Columbus of not wanting to return to Castille because, they said, he was
serving out an exile and had not shared that information with his men. Francisco Porras
shouted "I am going to Castille and will take all those who follow me". Of the 116 men,
48 chose to follow Porras.
They commandeered ten of the dugouts that Columbus had acquired, and took off in the
direction of Hispaniola. Along the way, they plundered the natives. When they neared
the northeastern point, a strong breeze from the east forced them back. They threw their
plunder overboard and, when that was not enough, they followed with the native
paddlers. Two more attempts to make the crossing were also unsuccessful. Forced to
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abandon their dugouts, they walked back to their base and lived off the country as they
traveled.
Back at their base, the situation had grown worse. Most of the men were ill, and also
suffering from hunger. The natives had ample supplies, but would relinquish them only
in exchange for trinkets. By now the Spaniards had run out of them. Porras and his
rebels had mistreated the natives, further increasing their disaffection. In the face of
this challenge, Columbus rose to new heights.
Calling the natives to his ship he told them he served a god who was in the heavens and
that, if they did not continue peaceful trade with the Spaniards, dreadful events would
befall them. As a sign of the god's displeasure, he said, that very night the moon would
be taken from the sky. The natives weren‘t quite sure how to take this threat; after all,
who could remove the moon from the sky? On the other hand, you never quite knew
what these strange pale-faced strangers could do. To their great relief, the moon rose
serenely in the evening sky as they all waited around. The natives turned to one another
and smiled. They probably looked at the Admiral in much the same way as the Spanish
courtiers had when he said the Indies could be reached from the west.
Columbus then pointed at the sky. A shadow had appeared at one end of the moon;
slowly, it began to eat away at the silver orb. Fear and panic took hold of the natives;
they pleaded with Columbus to restore the moon to the heavens. The Admiral retired to
his cabin until the eclipse was almost at its fullest. He then came on deck and told the
natives he had interceded with the god. The moon would be returned if they supplied the
Spaniards with food. The food supply problem was over. Having had the advantage of
possessing an almanac that predicted a lunar eclipse for the 29th of February, 1504,
Columbus had been able to put on an impressive show.
That still left the rebels to be dealt with. By the end of March, a chemist by the name of
Bernal was in the process of engineering a second rebellion when a small ship appeared
on the horizon. It had been sent by Ovando to determine the Admiral‘s position and
situation. The captain, Diego de Escobar, had been one of Roldan's men; he was not in
the least friendly disposed toward the Admiral. Ovando's orders were to not take anyone
back to Hispaniola; he still feared the Admiral‘s influence. The good news was that de
Escobar informed them of Mendez's success and the impending relief voyage. After a
year of hunger, the only supplies they had left were one ham and a cask of wine.
Columbus sent word to the Porras brothers of the visit, and tried to persuade them to
return; he even offered them part of the ham left by de Escobar. The rebels refused to
believe the Admiral; they accused him of black magic. Why else would a vessel have
appeared and disappeared so quickly? (If you believe in black magic, any logic will work.)
To add insult to injury, the rebels mounted an offensive and marched on the home base.
Bartholomew Columbus took to the field with fewer men than the opposition. He
encountered the rebels on May 20th, 1504. The battle was fought mostly with swords for
lack of gunpowder. Bartholomew defeated the rebels. The Porras brothers were taken
prisoner and placed in irons. The remaining rebels were pardoned and allowed to roam
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about the island. This was a better than keeping them near the base where they might
generate more problems.
Toward the end of June, the two ships sent by Mendez arrived. They were commanded
by Diego de Salcedo to whom Columbus had given the soap monopoly for the Indies. De
Salcedo informed the Admiral that Ovando had delayed the dispatch of the rescue ships
until pressure from settlers and preachers in their pulpits forced the issue. Columbus and
about a hundred survivors left Jamaica on June 28, 1504, a year and five days after their
arrival there. It had taken Mendez only four days to get to Hispaniola; Because of leaky
ships and contrary winds, it took the Jamaica survivors six and a half weeks to arrive in
Santo Domingo.
Ovando received Columbus with honor, and treated him as his guest. Ovando also took
the matters of Jamaica out of Columbus' jurisdiction by releasing the Porras brothers. On
September l2th, 1504, Columbus departed in a ship he had chartered. With him were his
brother and his son, and twenty-two of the Jamaica survivors. The remainder of the
participants in the High Voyage elected to stay in Hispaniola, probably hoping never to
take to sea again.
The homeward voyage lasted fifty-six stormy days. During one of the storms, the main
mast broke, and the Columbus brothers had to jury-rig a replacement. November 7th,
1504, the Admiral arrived in Sanlucar de Barrameda. He had been away two and a half
years, including the year marooned on Jamaica. He had nothing to show for all his
troubles. He had found no strait between the seas. His one great find, the gold of
Veragua, could not be exploited. His health was ruined. He would never see the Indies
again, nor would he ever return to the sea.
By November 9th, he had reached Seville. He was very tired and much in need of rest to
recover his health and energy. Columbus hoped to be summoned to the court, which
was in Segovia at the time. Segovia lies northwest of Madrid. If invited to go there,
Columbus feared for his health in the cold winter weather of the Castillian highlands. He
needn‘t have worried. His chances of being invited to the court were minimal. The report
sent with Diego Mendez had been a meandering mixture of biblical quotes and selfjustification. It did not create a good impression. Further, the King and Queen had too
many concerns of their own to be able to concentrate on Columbus and all the problems
he entailed.
In June of that year, word had reached the court of the estrangement between the
monarchs' daughter, doña Juana of Castille, and her husband, Philip the Handsome of
Austria. The news was made even more disturbing by details of the first signs of mental
illness on the part of doña Juana; she would later go down in history as Juana La Loca
(Juana the Mad). Doña Juana‘s madness would not have been as great a concern to the
monarchs had her elder brother and sister been alive. But with their deaths, she was
now next in line for the throne. Deeply affected by these tidings, both Fernando and
Isabel became ill. Fernando recovered, but Isabel remained in poor health. By the time
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Columbus arrived in Seville, the good queen was dying. On November 26th, 1504, at
Medina de] Campo, Isabel gave up her soul to the god she had tried so diligently to serve
throughout her entire life.
With the passing of the queen, Columbus lost his patron at the court. Isabel had always
listened with a friendly ear, and had tried to be fair to the Admiral in all their dealings.
Fernando merely tolerated Columbus, mostly to please his wife. The Indies were not his
main area of interest. The play of power and war in Europe were Fernando's principal
focus. Nevertheless, Columbus was not without representation at court. His son, Diego,
now twenty-four, was a member of the royal bodyguard. Fernando, the youngest son,
had returned to his position as a page at the court; he was now sixteen.
Although he lived in a rented home in Seville, Columbus was now well to do. He had the
gold he had brought back from Veragua, as well as the amounts returned from Hispaniola
delivered by Carvajal in the only surviving ship of Bobadilla's fleet. , He also had various
rents, taxes and duties -- to the extent that they were really paid to him.,All totalled,
Columbus had accumulated more than enough wealth to live very well for the rest of his
life. Despite this, his struggle with the government over the interpretation of his
entitlements became an obsession. For example, he complained rightly that instead of
receiving a tenth of all gold found in the Indies, as promised in the original contract, he
was receiving only a tenth of the Royal Fifth. This amounted to only two percent rather
than the ten percent he was entitled to.
To his credit, Columbus struggled even harder to collect the back pay due to the seamen
who had served with him on the fourth voyage. Most of these men were poor and had no
other source of income. Columbus did everything he could to help them, from writing
numerous letters to the treasurer of Castille and persons of influence at the court, to
actually hiring several of the men to work around his house.
In early 1505, Columbus realized he would never return to Hispaniola as governor.
Without the beneficent influence of Isabel it was unlikely that the king, who was satisfied
with Ovando's governorship, would act in Columbus' behalf on this matter. Nor was it
likely that at the then advanced age of fifty-three and in poor health, Columbus would
have been able to survive the rigors of another journey to the Indies. He now began to
prepare for his trip to the court but was too ill to ride a horse. To make such a long
journey in a litter would have been too cumbersome. Columbus did the next best thing;
he applied to the king for a license to ride a mule.
In this day and age it is hard for us to understand the differences between riding a horse
and a mule, and the reasons why anyone would be required to obtain a license for riding
one. In 1494, when Fernando and Isabel were at war with the Moors, they desperately
needed horsemen and could barely raise ten to twelve thousand in their combined
kingdoms. On the other hand, at least a hundred thousand people rode mules. In a
mountainous country such as Spain, the sure-footed, soft-stepping mule offered greater
safety and comfort than a high-spirited horse. The trouble is you can't mount a cavalry
charge with mules; they don't operate that way.
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Desperate situations call for equally desperate measures. The monarchs issued a law
prohibiting the riding of mules by persons other than women and clergymen. The law
was meant to increase the availability of horses and horsemen throughout the kingdom to
support future war efforts. The king, who set an example by always riding a horse,
understood Columbus' difficulties and granted the license.
Columbus waited until May to begin his journey to the court, then still at Segovia. The
king received him well, and with due consideration for his triumphs and tribulations.
Fernando listened to Columbus's litany of woes and complaints, and proposed appointing
an arbitrator to handle his claims against the Crown. Columbus rejected the offer
because this arrangement would have included all his titles along with the monetary
claims in the arbitration. The king also implied that Columbus could be granted a
magnificent estate with substantial rents, provided he renounced the rights, titles, and
tithes granted in his original contract. Again, Columbus refused. It was evident that this
matter could not be resolved easily or quickly. The court moved to Salamanca and then
to Valladolid. Columbus tagged along awaiting opportunities to plead his case.
Accustomed as we are in our own age to the fact that the seat of government is always in
the same place, we wonder why the Spanish court was constantly on the move. The
reasons were many. Early on, before the fusion of the two kingdoms of Castille and
Aragon, Queen Isabel, whose title to the throne had been the cause of a war of
succession, made it a point to constantly travel to all the major areas of her domain. She
exercised her sovereignty by requiring nobles and aristocrats at each location to pay
obeisance to the throne.
The queen and her retinue also conducted audiences and hearings as part of the rights
and responsibilities of power. When the court was in town, the queen would conduct
hearings of complaints by commoners and others against the mighty of each region.
Oftentimes, these hearings would go against the powerful who would then be sentenced
by the queen. Isabel had a well-earned reputation for being a stern judge. Her
sentences usually involved death or life imprisonment, and confiscation of all properties,
which then became property of the Crown. This was one of the many ways she strove to
consolidate her power, and discourage the nobles from attempting to wrest it from her.
Power must be used and felt -- or it can be lost. The demands of power upon the queen
were great. She traveled constantly; it was no easy task to live up to her obligations as
monarch, spouse, mother, and devout Christian at the same time.
For his part, Fernando faced many of the same obligations plus the fact that, as an
Aragonese, he did not have the natural support of the Castillians in his projects and wars.
it is the curse of rulers that they can never be sure they are receiving complete and
unbiased information; it generally comes from those who have vested interests in results
that may not coincide with the welfare of the state. Therefore, rulers must try to obtain
information firsthand by visiting as many areas of the realm as possible to meet and hear
their subjects personally. Even with today's instant communications, this rule still applies.
In Fernando's and Isabel‘s time it was an imperative.
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A year had gone by and nothing had been accomplished. By now, the young I nfanta
dona Juana had arrived in Spain to claim her mother's throne of Castille. Columbus was
now confined to bed most of the time with arthritis and other ills. Unable to travel, he sent
his brother Bartholomew to greet the young sovereign and pursue her influence in the reestablishment of his rights and perquisites.
On May 19th, 1506, Columbus reaffirmed the clauses in his will making his son, don
Diego, his principal beneficiary and heir. He commended to him the care of his relatives
and of doña Beatriz, the mother of young Fernando. On the following day, surrounded by
his sons and a few followers, including faithful Diego Mendez and Bartolome Fieschi, he
heard mass, and received the sacraments. Saying ―In manus tuas, Domine, commendo
spiritum meum" (Into Thy hands I commend my spirit, Lord), the Great Discoverer then
embarked on his final journey of discovery -- to the next life.
How to judge Columbus? Was he "good" or "bad?" He was neither. He was both. He
was only a man, but a great one. He was a visionary willing to struggle mightily, even to
the extent of confronting and challenging monarchs, to bring his dreams to reality. He
was a true man of his time, imbued with the ideals of his faith and the legends and lore
that made up much of the knowledge of the period. As a latecomer to the written word,
he had an almost blind faith in the content of books written by the established authors of
antiquity.
Although a keen observer of his surroundings, he traveled more in his mind than in the
physical world around him. That‘s why, mentally, he could be in China when everything
and everyone around him told him he was in a different place. He was obsessed with
power and glory, but didn‘t handle them well. He was at his best at sea, but "at sea" on
land.
He was not particularly greedy, but did seem obsessed with gold, which he described as
"most excellent.‖ Of gold is treasure made, and with it, he who has it does all he wants in
the world, and can even lift souls up to Paradise." A man of humble beginnings,
Columbus had the attributes and the faults of the great. He embodied the ancient Greek
concept of Hubris (exaggerated pride or wanton arrogance). But his pride raised him to
unexcelled heights; it also brought him down in chains to the depths of humiliation and
despair.
The exploits of Columbus will remain unequaled in the annals of human history -- until
such time as the voyages of discovery by future generations unveil the mysterious worlds
of endless space.
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Tomb of Columbus – Cathedral of Seville
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Chapter four
Aztec Gold
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Chapter four
Aztec Gold
The New World had no Mediterranean to serve as the cradle of its civilizations. The
nearest thing to it was the Gulf of Mexico. Vast and stormy, it could not be crossed as
easily as the Mediterranean. Among the natives of the New World seamanship and
navigation never reached levels of sophistication comparable to those of European and
Middle Eastern seafarers.
Civilizations grew in unexpected places the middle of lakes, in high mountain ranges,
and in the midst of dense, almost impenetrable, jungles. Why in these places?
Circumstances of time, climate, food, need, and cultural values.
The major pre-Columbian civilizations appeared in Mexico and in the Andes. Did
they know of one another's existence? It is hard to tell. Overland travel was very
difficult, and long ocean voyages were unknown. Over periods of centuries, bits and
pieces of cultures and knowledge were handed from one tribe to another all the way from
South America to the far northern extremes of North America. Those who received this
new knowledge probably never knew its original source; they may have believed it was
just something clever their neighbors thought up.
Great civilizations had come and gone long before the white man came to destroy their
successors. A thousand years before Christ, the Olmecs had established a flourishing
civilization in the jungles near the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. At a location called La
Venta, in the state of Tabasco where the annual rainfall can reach up to 120 inches, the
Olmecs built a stone pyramid 110 feet high, and 240 by 420 at the base. The nearest
source of stone is at least 100 miles away and the 0lmecs had no draft animals to help
them move the massive blocks. It is estimated the pyramid effort took 800,000 mandays.
The Olmecs left carvings and sculptures showing a daily life not unlike that of many of
today's natives of the same area. They grew corn, milled it, and turned it into tortillas.
They played music with wind instruments and drums, and danced with plump, sensual
maidens who wore attractive jewelry. They raised children who smiled and laughed, and
played with fat little puppies with wildly wagging tails. Their agriculture was simple, but
food was abundant.
To the west of the Olmecs, toward the Pacific coast, the Zapotecs developed their
civilization on the site of today's Monte Alban in Oaxaca. As the native cultures grew and
aged, they developed theories and doctrines about the earth's needs and demands in
order to supply the crops that kept them alive. In time the gentle gods of Rain and Earth
were replaced by angry, hungry gods who demanded sacrifices of every kind, including
humans, to quench their thirst. Their logic recognized that all natural things and
creatures must die to make room for new ones. If they didn't die, the gods would grow
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weak and unable to provide the food for new life. Nature demanded all things die; so,
logically, did the gods. The Zapotecs worshipped a god of Spring named Xipe. He
should have been a gentle god of soft rain and flowering fields. He wasn't. Zapotec
priests danced wearing the flayed skins of human victims sacrificed to satisfy the god's
need for revitalization through blood.
To the north, near the location of today's Mexico city, another people built a city which the
Aztecs later called Teotihuacan, Abode of the Gods. Dominated by massive pyramids to
the Sun and the Moon, the city encompassed over 2,600 major structures and had a
population larger than that of classic Athens. Even by today's standards, these
structures are awe-inspiring. (Attempting to climb them at that altitude can be a
breathtaking experience -- literally.) One wonders how primitive peoples who knew
neither the wheel nor the pulley, and had no metal tools, were able to erect such huge
monuments.
To build on this scale, they needed thousands of workers over relatively long periods of
time. Such workers could have been volunteers, recruits or slaves. Whatever their status
within the social and economic structure of the community, they had been performing
some function before being recruited for pyramid duty. They needed to be freed from
other work and duties and, of equal importance, had to be fed. All of this indicates the
existence of a well-organized social and economic infrastructure. To support so many
people dedicated to activities that produced no food, others had to
grow the crops.
Agriculture was the base of these cultures. Corn was the main staple;
a family of three could grow it without irrigation, and harvest a crop equal to twice what it
could consume in a year. The Teotihuacanos developed their agricultural techniques
beyond the primitive levels of their neighbors by using terracing, and irrigation through
flooding.
Sometime during the eighth century AD the Teotihuacanos abandoned their city.
From murals, buildings, and artifacts, archeologists have been able to learn many
things about the Teotihuacanos -- except what they called themselves and the
reasons for their departure.
To the southeast, in the Yucatan peninsula, there grew a civilization known as Maya.
Starting sometime in the middle of the first millennium before Christ it lasted almost to the
end of the following millennium, longer than the Ro man Empire by nearly five hundred
years. At its height, the Mayan civilization reached levels of sophistication unparalleled
by its successors. Magnificently adorned buildings and pyramids have survived them in
strangely inaccessible places.
Murals show elaborate ceremonies presided over by a Halach Uinic or principal cacique
and his captains in plumed splendor surrounded by priests and the faithful populace.
One sees the Mayan nobles with their high, sloped foreheads, artificially flattened in
childhood by their parents who bound their heads with boards. The murals show the
Mayan nobles in all their portly haughtiness. Peering over their beaked noses through
slanted, puffy, crossed eyes, they look with disdain upon prisoners captured in local wars.
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Crossed eyes were considered a symbol of beauty. Parents adhered a string to the
foreheads of their young children; at the end of the string, hanging between the eyes,
was a small bead of wax that forced the child to cross its eyes in order to see it.
The prisoners are shown cringing in fear and pain as blood spurts from their fingers from
which the fingernails have been torn to satisfy some ritual demand. They are awaiting
ceremonial death, considered by the Maya one of the highest honors to which a human
being could aspire. (Of course, this belief is easier to support when the honoree is
someone else.)
Whereas the Olmecs celebrated daily life in their art and art objects, and reach across
the ages and cultures to touch our hearts and minds with their enjoyment of life, the Maya
do not. There is no joy or sweetness in Mayan art, only pride, arrogance, cruelty and
death, beautifully represented with a fine sense of line and color. By the time the
Spaniards arrived, the remaining Maya were less than a shadow of what they had been.
They knew they were Maya and little else, as can be seen from the unimaginative names
they gave to the ruins left by their ancestors: ―Palemke‖ which means Holy Place, and
―Bonampak‖ meaning Painted Walls.
The Maya were mathematically advanced. They used a twenty-based counting system.
(Ours is based on only ten fingers; the Maya were smart enough to include their toes in
their calculations.) They also developed the concept of zero a thousand years before
the Arabs (who took it from the Indians) introduced it to Europe. They developed one of
the most accurate calendars of antiquity. To meet their various needs the Maya worked
with three different types of years: The Tzolkin, or ritual year, had 260 days with thirteen
months of twenty days each. The Tun, which had 360 days, and the Haab or vague year,
which had 365 days, divided into eighteen twenty-day months and one five-day month.
To tie the Tzolkin and the Haab years together, a series of twenty sequences involving
the numbers from one to thirteen were used. This generated 18,980 permutations so that
a given day would not return to its original position until fifty-two years later. They also
developed an amazingly accurate method for tracking dates in history over very long
periods of time. It was known as the Long Count Initial Series.
Based on the Kin or day, it involved the following elements:
20 Kins
18 Uinals
20 Tuns
20 Katuns
20 Baktuns
20 Pictuns
20 Calabtuns
20 Kinchiltuns
1 Uinal (20 days)
1 Tun (360 days or 1 year)
1 Katun (7,200 days or 19.7 years)
1 Baktun (144,000 days or 394.5 years)
1 Pictun (2,880,000 days or 7890.4 years)
1 Calabtun (57,600,000 days or 157,808.2 years)
1 Kincchiltun (1,152,000,000 days or 3,156,164.3 years)
1 Alautun (23,040,000,000 days or 63,123,306 years)
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Zero Date for the beginning of the Long Count is calculated to have been the year 3114
BC. The series runs from one 20-day month to one Alautun or 64 million years. Mayan
priests seem to have used their mathematical sophistication mostly for ritual related
calculations.
For reasons unknown, the Maya abandoned several of their major cities at different
points in time. Much thought has been given to the causes of this strange phenomenon.
Among those cited are famine, drought, disease, war, revolution, religious signs and
beliefs, or just plain decadence and its ensuing entropy. Although the Maya developed
writing based on hieroglyphs, many of which have not yet been interpreted. Surviving
documents and inscriptions do not explain the reasons for the abandonment of cities.
Certain major events are known and probably contributed to the exodus. In the first half
of the third century AD, the volcano Ilopango in El Salvador erupted spewing ashes over
a sixty-mile radius/, effectively blocking the main trade avenues between the Maya and
their neighbors. The area was made uninhabitable for nearly two hundred years, which
forced some towns to be abandoned. In 1464, probably not for the first time in their
history (nor the last), a major hurricane devastated most of Yucatan destroying many
Maya towns and villages.
In 1514, a virulent smallpox epidemic believed to have arrived with the Spaniards under
Diego de Nicuesa in Panama, spread throughout Central America and Yucatan
devastating native populations. During the same period, swarms of locusts obliterated
crops and other major food sources causing great famine. The final blow to the Mayan
civilization came with the Spanish domination. The Maya did not go down easily; as late
as the middle of the nineteenth century they mounted yet another rebellion against the
white man's oppressive government.
During the seventh century AD, the Mexican civilizations seem to have experienced an
age of chaos and turmoil not dissimilar to the early dark ages of Europe. Wild tribes to
the north had grown to the point of internal dissension and revolt. In the civil wars that
followed, the losers and their followers were forced to leave. As they searched for new
lands, these migrations were not received warmly. As have many immigrants, they
learned to fight to survive. As they crossed the land, these war-making migrations looted
and destroyed villages, forcing their inhabitants to flee to the mountains and the jungles
or become slaves.
Among the warlike migrants were the Toltecs who came from northwestern Mexico and
spoke a language called Nahuatl. After 122 years of wandering, and having established
temporary settlements in thirteen different places, they founded the city of Tula north of
Lake Texcoco where the Aztecs would later build their capital city of Tenochtitlan.
During the following century, the Toltecs, assisted by the neighboring Otomi, raided and
looted the famous Teotihuacan, the Abode of the Gods. Continuing their raids, they
extended their dominions to the south as far as Guatemala and Yucatan. Under their
influence, the Mayan civilization was revitalized. Inspired architects, the Toltecs built
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wherever they went and left lasting monuments. They left an impressive legacy of artistic
refinement and achievement that was held in awe by succeeding cultures. Among the
Aztecs, persons of cultural sophistication were complimented by calling them ―Totecatl‖
or Toltecan.
A vigorous, aggressive people, the Toltecs believed in a dark god called Texcatlipoca,
―Lord of the Sky the North and the Night.‖ Texcatlipoca warred against the gentle, white
god, Quetzalcoatl, who had taught the people to cultivate the land and enjoy its fruits. It
is believed the Toltecs may have introduced the Maya to human sacrifice.
They also brought with them the sacred ball game, Tlachtli, which the Maya called Pok-a
Tok. The ball game became of great importance; attended by kings, nobles, priests, and
the people, it embodied religious ceremony with sport. The sport was deadly serious;
fortunes and lives were bet and played on the long, narrow, walled courts (approximately
150 feet long by 50 feet wide). The game was played wearing armor to protect players
from the hard impact of the ball. Players could number two or more to a side; hard play,
including personal attacks, was the rule rather than the exception. The ball could be hit
with the knee, hip and elbow. A point system existed for keeping score. A rather small
vertical stone hoop was mounted high on one of the walls. When one of the players put
the ball through the hoop, this automatically gave the victory to that side and the game
was over. The game was tremendously popular; courts have been found as far north as
Arizona, and players were national heroes.
During the games, large amounts of Balche, the Mayan wine, were consumed (times
haven't changed much). A liquid gift of the Toltecs to succeeding generations was the
popular drink called Pulque. Made from the Maguey plant, originally called Octli, the
drink is reputed to have been invented by a lovely lady named Xochitl (pronounced Shosheet-til, which in Nahuatl means Flower).
According to tradition, the greatest of the Toltec kings was Topiltzin. Mayans, Toltecs,
and Aztecs included the name of the calendar day a child was born in the child's name.
Thus, Topiltzin was named Ce Acatl (One Reed). To that name was added that of the
god he served. His full name became Ce Acatl Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl. Legend says
Topilltzin's father was murdered by his wicked brother, ―The Lord of the Water Palace‖,
who then became monarch. When he became an adult, Topiltzin killed his uncle on the
Hill of the Star. This is where the ceremonial fire was lit at the beginning of each 52-year
cycle. As a ruler, he is said to have been wise, kind, and saintly, teaching his people by
word and example. He taught them the peaceful arts of metalworking, weaving,
featherworking, and writing.
Topiitzintl‘s period coincides roughly with that of Harun al Rashid in the Middle East,
Charlemagne in Europe, and Alfred the Great in England, as well as the invasions of the
Norsemen in the north of Europe, and the Arabs in southern Europe.
The dark god, Texcatlipoca, then appeared and drove Ce Acatl Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl
away to the east where, among the Maya, he was known as Kukulcan. Ce Acatl Topiltzin
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Quetzalcoatl sailed away to the east vowing that he would return. Legend said
Quetzalcoatl would return at the end of a sheaf of years, the 52-year period, in the year
One Reed. This legend later became a pivotal factor in the drama played out between
Spaniards and Aztecs.
Metalworking, developed by the South American natives more than a thousand years
earlier, was introduced to Mexico at this time. The Mexican craftsmen became master
gold and silversmiths producing many of the treasures that Cortes later shipped to
Europe. Trade flourished during this period as products moved by land and sea. The
Maya carried passengers and products in long dugouts manned by as many as 40
rowers. When Columbus arrived off Honduras on fourth voyage, accustomed to seeing
the small canoes of the Caribbean natives, his men were astounded to see these large
vessels. In his log, Columbus refers to a people called Maia or Maian from a province to
the north. The Maya developed a special appreciation for pottery from the Veracruz
area; to obtain it they needed to make sea journeys of over 600 miles.
Commerce moved along the Central American coasts all the way up the Mexican coast to
the Gulf coast as far as the Mississippi; from there it was traded from tribe to tribe
reaching as far north as Wisconsin. Even words managed to travel; among the Sioux,
the word "Wakan" has the same meaning as "Huaca‖ the Inca word for holy or sacred. It
also appears in the naming of Teotihuacan, or Abode of the Gods. To this day, buried
native treasure troves are still referred to as "Huacas" in many parts of Latin America.
With the disappearance of Topiltzin, the decline of the Toltecs accelerated. Invaders
from other tribes and nations overran the capital of Tula. The Toltecs dispersed to the
south in search of less hostile areas. They took with them their culture, which they often
grafted onto the peoples with which they came in contact. To the north, in the valley of
Mexico, new peoples were developing their own cultures and testing their strength
against one another. Among them were the Chichimecs in various combinations with
other peoples and cultures such as the Tepanecs, the Culhuas, the Texcocoans, the
Otomi, and eventually the Tenochas who became the people we know as Aztecs.
Aztec records place the beginning of their wanderings at 1168 AD. According to their
legends, they first lived on an island in a lake in western Mexico. The place of their origin
was called Aztlan, ―Place of the Snowy Egrets.‖ The people referred to themselves as
Aztlanlaca or Axteca. Crossing to the shore in their boats, they discovered an idol in a
cave on a hillside. it was Huitzilipochtli, ―Hummingbird Wizard‖, the War God, who spoke
to them and guided them. In their wanderings, they would stay at one place for about a
year. There, they would set up Huitzilipochtli and worship him.
Scouts would roam in search of uninhabited fertile lands where they would plant crops,
which would be harvested when the tribe arrived. Finally, the Aztlanlaca or Axtecas,
Tenochas or Aztecs, arrived at Lake Texcoco where their capital would one day be built.
Aztec legend says Huitzlipochtli told them to look for a place where they would see an
eagle on a Nopal cactus eating its prey. A scout discovered an eagle devouring a
serpent atop a cactus on an island in the swamplands of Lake Texcoco. According to
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tradition, this is how the island of Tenochtitlan was found. More likely, the Tenochas
were a weak people who had to take what others did not want and would let them have.
Denied fertile farmlands, the Tenochas learned to build rafts, called Chinamitl, from
branches and reeds, which they moored at the edge of the lake. They then hauled
topsoil in from the mainland, spread it on top of the rafts and planted crops there. Over
the seasons, crops extended their roots deeper and longer until the rafts became
anchored to the lake bottom. These manmade islands were known as Chinampas or
floating gardens.
The progress of the Tenochas throughout the centuries was anything but smooth. They
seem to have had a penchant for doing the obnoxious, thus inciting their neighbors to
give them a thorough thrashing. At various times, they enraged each of their neighbors.
While still a tributary of the Culhuas, they were required to participate in a war against
XochimiIco at the demand of Coxcox, chief of Culhuacan. Rushing onto the field, the
Tenocha took thirty prisoners and cut one ear off of each. After the battle, Coxcox began
to mock the Tenochas for their lack of prisoners. When Coxcox had finished his arrogant
taunting, the Tenochas asked him why so many prisoners were missing an ear.
Once they had Coxcox's atention, the Tenochas opened their pouches showing the
missing ears.
Trading on their newly won prestige, the Tenochas demanded of Coxcox that he marry
one of his daughters to their chief. Coxcox acceded. Overcome with gratitude, the
socially inept Tenocha chief sacrificed the girl to Huitzilipochtli. The Aztec priests then
removed her skin and placed it over a priest who celebrated a dance to the nature
goddess, Toci. With their usual lack of finesse, the Tenochas invited Coxcox to the
ceremony. Expecting a wedding celebration, the poor man was presented with the
horrifying spectacle of a ghastly sacrificial dance by a Tenocha priest wearing his
daughter's skin. Coxcox made every effort to wipe the Tenochas off the face of the earth.
He almost succeeded except for a few hardy souls who managed to survive in some of
the least inhabitable areas of the lake.
Because of the wars between the Culhuas and other neighbors such as the Tepanecs,
the Tenochas were able to rise again. Again, they traded on their relationship with the
Culhuas (although at the time they were tributaries of the Tepanecs) to request they be
provided with a chief. The Culhuas again complied by sending Acamapichtli to become
the Tenocha chief. Acamapichtli was succeeded upon his death by Huitzihuitil II who
wisely married the daughter of Tezozomoc, chief of the Tepanecs. (This time the
Tenochas deemed it prudent to let the bride retain her epidermis). Huitzilhuitl was
succeeded by his half brother Chimalpopoca who was murdered by the son of
Tezozomoc.
The next Tenocha chief was Ixtalcoatl who reigned with relative wisdom. He initiated a
series of reforms that enabled the tribe to gain better lands, and establish the base of the
culture that would become known as Aztec. In 1440, Ixtalcoatl was succeeded by
Motecuzoma I, who expanded Tenochan territories by wars and alliances. He built an
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aqueduct to bring fresh water from the springs at Chapultepec. Having also built many
temples to the gods, he felt obliged to provide them with sacrifices. To feed the hungry
gods, he reinstated the Flowery Wars. In these wars, alliances were formed to fight other
nations for the purpose (agreed to by both sides) of capturing prisoners to sacrifice to the
gods. The Flowery Wars were an outlet for aggression without the economic effects of
regular wars. War became an almost ritual procedure designed not so much to kill the
enemy as to provide opportunities to capture live prisoners. This custom would later
become a severe tactical disadvantage in the wars against the Spaniards who cared little
for taking prisoners.
In 1469, the same year Isabel of Castille and Fernando of Aragon were married,
Motecuzoma I was succeeded by his son Axayacatl. He attempted to expand the
Tenocha dominions by leading a disastrous war in Talaxcan territory. During Axacayatll‘s
reign, the great calendar stone, weighing twenty tons and measuring thirteen feet in
diameter, was sculpted. In 1479, the same year the Kingdoms of Aragon and Castille
were united under the Catholic Kings, Axayacatl died. Columbus, then living in Lisbon,
was twenty-eight years old and had married doña Filipa de Perestrello e Moniz.
Axayacatl was succeeded briefly by his brother, Tizoc, whose main claim to fame is that
he began the reconstruction of the temple of Huitzlipochtli He is believed to have been
poisoned by his chiefs who were unhappy about his lack of military success. In 1486,
Tizoc was succeeded by his brother Ahuitzotl That same year Columbus, in pursuit of his
great adventure of Indies, was received by Queen Isabel for the first time.
Ahuitzotl finished building the great temple of Huitzilipochtli alongside that of Tlaloc, the
Rain god, at the top of the great pyramid. In the year Eight Reeds, he joined up with his
allies in a great Flowery War expedition that generated twenty thousand prisoners. On
this occasion Ahuitzotl, whose title was Uey-Tlatoani, or Revered Speaker, was
accompanied atop the pyramid by his counterparts and allies, the Revered Speakers
Nezahualpili of Texcoco and Chimalpopoca of Tlacopan. There, the priests clad in their
black cloaks, their hair matted with dried blood and emitting a foul stench of decay,
awaited the victims, called Xochimiqui, to offer them the Flowery Death.
As the Xochimiqui reached the top of the pyramid, five priests grabbed him, one by each
limb, and arched his back over a sacrificial stone while another held his head back.
Armed with an obsidian blade, a sixth priest quickly sliced open the victim's chest cavity
tearing out the still beating heart, which he then fed to the appropriate idol. The gashed
bodies were then kicked down the side of the pyramid where meat cutters removed the
heads of the more notable prisoners; these were then mounted on a skull rack in the
square.
Sections of thighs of especially brave and distinguished prisoners were served that
evening at a banquet for Tenocha warrior Eagle and Jaguar Knights. What was left of
the bodies was then cut up and fed to the animals in the Uey-Tlatoani's zoo. That day,
rivers of blood ran endlessly down the sides of the pyramid until everything within the
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square was bathed in coagulating stickiness. The ceremony continued until the last of
the twenty thousand prisoners had met the Flowery Death.
Ahuitzotl surpassed all other offerings made to the gods before and after that day. The
gods should have been pleased and rewarded him appropriately. In a way they may
have. After a disastrous flood destroyed parts of Tenochtitlan, Ahuitzotl was hit in the
head by a falling beam while supervising the city‘s reconstruction. Rendered mentally
incompetent by the blow, he survived for almost two years before he died. During the
period of Ahuitzotl‘s disability, discussions were held to determine who would be the
logical successor to the throne of the Revered Speaker. The logical successor would
have been Cuauhtemoc, his eldest son, but the Council chose instead Motecuzoma
Xocoyotzin (Montezuma The Younger), a man of proven fanatical competence who had
served as a priest and as a military commander.
Motecuzoma was lean and of good height. He wore his hair just long enough to cover his
ears, and had a short, sparse black beard that was well shaped and trimmed. His face
was long by comparison to other natives; his eyes were serious but cheerful of
expression. A man of a religious bent, Motecozluma took his obligations seriously. He
was also much given to studying and interpreting omens, and during his reign he did not
want for them. It is true that the Aztecs were coming to the end of another 52-year
period, and there was much fear about their world coming to an end.
People were predisposed to see omens and found them in everything. Meteors and
comets were seen in the skies. Strange fires started in different temples. Storms without
wind developed in Lake Texcoco. There were earthquakes. A column of white smoke
shining with great brilliance was seen in the east. A bird the size of an eagle with a mirror
on its head, was found by fishermen. The ghost of a weeping woman was seen roaming
the streets of Tenochtitlan at night bemoaning the terrible things that were to befall the
Tenochas. And, mountains that moved on the sea, inhabited by men whose skin was
lighter than that of the Aztecs, had been seen off the eastern coast. The last omen
proved to be the most dangerous one; the Spaniards had arrived.
The year was 1519, the Aztec year Ceacatl, or One Reed, the year legend said
Quetzalcoatl would return. Meanwhile, since Columbus's last trip to the New World,
exploration had continued. Diego de Nicuesa had landed in Panama and begun a
broader exploration effort. Balboa had discovered the Pacific after trekking across the
Isthmus of Panama. Juan Ponce de Leon had discovered Florida. Juan Diaz de Solis
had reached the mouth of the Rio de la Plata. Gaspar de Corte Real had discovered
Newfoundland for the Portuguese.
In 1517, Francisco Hernandez de Cordoba was on his way from Santiago de Cuba in
three ships with 110 men, to explore the islands between Cuba and Honduras when his
fleet was blown off course by a storm. He came upon a land where the natives had built
large structures, wore woven clothes and showed signs of having great wealth .
Hernandez de Cordoba had landed at Catoche, Yucatan. Inland, a village with large
pyramidal structures could be seen; the Spaniards called it "Great Cairo".
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Asked the name of their land, the natives responded "Yectetan." The Spaniards, who
seem to have lacked a talent for learning native languages, recorded the natives‘ answer
as ―Yucatan.‖ In the Mayan language, "Yectetan," means "I don‘t understand you". The
name Yucatan has remained, thus leaving for all time a Peninsula named ―I don‘t
understand you.‖ Initially, the natives were friendly. Soon, however, they set up an
ambush for their uninvited visitors. Taken by complete surprise, many of the Spaniards
were wounded; two of them died later from their wounds. The survivors quickly
recovered from the surprise attack, and gave good account of themselves. They killed
fifteen natives and captured two prisoners. Both prisoners were cross-eyed. Moving on
to the natives‘ village, the Spaniards found gold but it was all low grade alloy with a high
percentage of copper.
At each of the four places they landed, the Spaniards met with hostility. While
the Spaniards were inspecting temples at Campeche, several native priests in long white
gowns and blood-matted hair approached them. The priests carried pottery braziers
with live coals that burned a resin called Copal The Spaniards thought this was
a gesture of respect as when incense is burned in Christian ceremonies. (The fumes
may have been meant to hide the odor of the Spaniards who, like most Europeans of
that time, rarely bathed.)
At a place called Champoton, a disastrous battle was fought with heavy losses.
In less than an hour of combat, at least fifty Spaniards were killed, and Hernandez de
Cordoba suffered ten wounds. On the way back to Cuba, the Spaniards stopped in
Florida to take on water. There, they again found it necessary to combat local natives.
Arriving in Cuba, the survivors reported to the governor, Diego Velasquez, and told of
their discoveries. Ten days later, Hernandez de Cordoba died of his injuries.
When the governor heard of the lands that Hernandez de Cordoba had discovered, and
of the large numbers of inhabitants who wore cotton garments, lived in masonry houses,
cultivated maize fields, built large temples, and possessed gold, he was inspired to
action. In 1518 he sent his nephew, Juan de Grijalba, with four ships and 240 men to
trade with the inhabitants of the newly found lands. Three of his commanders were
Alonzo de Avila, Francisco de Montejo, and Pedro de AIvarado (who would later
distinguish himself serving under Cortes). Setting out on April 8th, 1518, they arrived at
the island of Cozumel ten days later. Unable to lure the natives to trade with him,
Grijalba sailed on to Champoton where Hernandez de Cordoba had suffered his ruinous
defeat.
The locals, wearing their war paint and in full combat formation, received the Spaniards
with a haiI of arrows. A battle took place that was probably one of the strangest in all of
military history. The Spaniards wore full armor, the natives wore woven mat armor; they
met in a field filled with locusts. The swarming locusts confused the Spaniards who
found it difficult to distinguish them from the hail of arrows that fell upon their ranks.
Between the locusts, the arrows, stones, the uncomfortable heavy armor, the
heat of the tropical sun, and the shrill screaming and whistling of the enemy warriors, the
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Spaniards at first suffered many injuries.
But then Grijalba and his men responded with firepower from falconet and harquebus.
They followed through swingng their swords of Toledan steel in a charge that ended the
battle, driving the natives back into the swamps. A quarter of the Spaniards had been
wounded and seven killed. Grijalba himself received three arrow wounds, and had two of
his teeth broken. Even with their superior armor and weaponry, the courage displayed by
the Spaniards in the face of such overwhelming numbers and intimidating circumstances
is admirable.
Returning to their ships, the Spaniards followed the coastline south and west. They
came to a good harbor which they named Boca de Terminos. There, they found temples
built of masonry. The site was uninhabited;it was probably used by native traders and
hunters as a stopover on their way to other locations. Helped by a hunting dog, the
Spaniards killed many deer and rabbits. After completing their explorations and hunting,
they returned to their ships. Forgotten in the confusion of the departure from Boca de
Terminos, the hunting dog was left behind.
They sailed on to a place called Rio de Tabasco. In honor of their valiant commander,
they renamed it Rio de Grijalba. At Rio de Tabasco, the natives were prepared to fight.
After their battle at Champoton, the Spaniards hoped to avoid further combat -- at least
for a while. They convinced the natives of their peaceful intentions. For a few days, they
were able to trade and picked up several gold items of relatively poor quality. After the
locals ran out of gold items to trade, they pointed to the sunset and said "Colhua‖ and
"Mexico.‖ They indicated that much gold would be found in that direction among the
Colhuas and the Mexicas (Tenochas). Not knowing what ―Colhua‖ and ―Mexico‖ meant
Grijalba sailed on. Cortes would not make the same mistake.
They came to a place called Rio de Jamapa. They named it Rio de Banderas or River of
Flags because of the standard-bearing delegation of Mexicas that awaited them. The
delegation was sent by Motecuzoma; he was now aware of the adventures of Hernandez
de Cordoba‘s expedition, and also knew of those experienced by this one. The
delegation was under orders to trade peacefully, and find out as much as possible about
these strange white men from across the seas. The Spaniards did not know of
Motecuzoma or his instructions to the delegation. After a few days of trading, no more
gold was being brought in. Grijalba and his men said their good-byes and set sail again.
They came to a string of islands. Landing on a larger one about a mile and a half from
the shore, they found two masonry temples with steps leading up to altars. There, they
discovered the bodies of five natives; their chests had been cut open, and their thighs
and arms cut off. The walls of the temple were covered with blood. The victims had
been sacrificed the night before. The Spaniards called the place Isla de los Sacrificios.
Retracing their path, they came to the mouth of the Rio de Coatzacoalcos where one of
the ships ran aground. They careened the vessel and began repairs. Natives from local
villages came to trade and brought what gold they had, most of which was low grade. A
few days later, the Spaniards set sail again, this time for Cuba.
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Arriving in Cuba, they astounded the Governor with the results of their trading. Among
the items listed by Grijalba were:
1
1
1
1
22
4
1
2
15
20
12
small gold idol
similar idol with a gem in its navel
gold medallion with several stones inset
gold helmet
gold earrings, each with three pendants
large gold arm bracelets
large gold purse
small golden earrings
gold necklaces
gold fishhooks
gold nuggets (valued at 50 ducats)
Many more items of gold, with precious and semi-precious stones, all of beautiful
workmanship, formed part of the cargo that had been traded for glass beads, needles,
pins, and pieces of metal.
Governor Diego Velasquez was excited by the results of the expedition (which he had
inveigled Grijalba and the other captains into financing). His only disappointment was
that a trading colony had not been established. He immediately set about organizing
another expedition with a large enough force to accomplish that purpose.
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Hernan Corté
The Return of Quetzalcoatl. Hernan Cortes In Mexico.
Hernan Cortes, son of Martin Cortes de Monroy and Catalina Pizarro de Altamirano, was
born in 1485, in Medellin, province of Extremadura. A hard, dry land, Extremadura gave
birth to several men who would proudly bear the title of Conquistador.
Martin Cortes fought on the wrong side of the Spanish struggles of succession. Although
he vigorously opposed the cause of Isabel of Castille, he seems not to have suffered any
persecution because of his early affiliation with the opposition.
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The potential for greatness is not always revealed early in life. As a child, Hernan was
sickly and often came close to dying. Thanks to the cares and attention of his wet nurse,
Maria Esteban de Oliva, he survived his many illnesses. But judging from his later
character, his tremendous taste for life and his tenacity must also have played an
important part in his survival. Hernan Cortes was a man who just did not accept defeat.
In 1499, at age fourteen, Hernan was sent to study at Salamanca. He lived with his
father's sister, Ines de Paz, who was married to Francisco Nuñez de Valera. Salamanca
was the site of one of the great European universities of the period. There, Cortes
studied grammar for two years. His parents had destined him to go on to law school at
this renowned seat of learning. Corte's must have felt somewhat like a country bumpkin
among the sons of Spain‘s wealthiest and noblest families. Restless by nature, he did
not enjoy the boring routines of learning grammar. He was also unable to afford some of
the more interesting diversions of his wealthier companions - who were probably not
living with their aunts and uncles as he was. Whatever his reasons, Hernan gave up
after two years, and returned home much to the disappointment of his parents. His time
at Salamanca was not totally wasted; he did become a competent Latin scholar.
Later, Cortes demonstrated a fondness for arms and, yearning for excitement, he wanted
to go to Italy to try his fortunes as a soldier. At the same time, the opportunity arose for
him to join don Nicolas de Ovando, recently appointed Governor of Indies after
Columbus‘ disgrace. Had he been a little less adventurous he might have traveled to the
New World at that time.
Enroute to a romantic rendezvous with a married woman in Medellin, Hernan took the
high road, that is, across other people's roofs. As he walked along the top of a garden
wall, the structure caved in. Cortes fell and was pinned under the rubble. When he fell, a
small metal shield he had been carrying (perhaps a normal precaution against muggers
and other night prowlers of the dark streets of Medellin), landed with such clatter that the
owner of the house came out sword in hand to protect his home. Seeing Cortes lying on
the ground, and suspecting him to be his wife's lover, the enraged husband was going to
run him through. The angry man‘s mother-in-law saved the young adventurer's life; she
advised waiting to find out who the fallen man was before taking action. It wouldn‘t be
the last time Cortes got into trouble over a woman, or the last time that one saved him.
Badly injured by his fall, Cortes not only missed sailing with Ovando's fleet but also
suffered a relapse of quartan fevers, which kept him bedridden for a long period. The
year was 1502. That year, Columbus was on his fourth voyage to the New World, Vasco
da Gama had reached India and, as a result of his second voyage to the continent that
would some day bear his name, Amerigo Vespucci had concluded that South America
was not India but a separate continent.
The mind of the young Cortes was still aflame with the desire for adventure. His restless
spirit demanded broader horizons and the excitement of daring action. Again, he decided
to go to Italy and actually started out in that direction. Instead, however, he spent a year
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wandering about seeking adventure wherever he happened to be, living by his wits, and
learning from the school of life.
He eventually returned to Medellin determined -- this time seriously -- to travel to the
Indies. Hopeful that the hardships and opportunities of the New World might yet make a
man out this young stallion, his parents gave him the money for his passage. He sailed
from Sanlucar de Barrameda.
It was the year 1504. Cortes was nineteen years old, Columbus had returned from his
fourth voyage, and good Queen Isabel had died.
After a voyage that took longer than it might have due to the captain's greed and
incompetence, Cortes and his traveling companions arrived in Santo Domingo where
many had given them up as lost at sea. Governor Ovando was not present. The
Governor‘s secretary, Medina, however, was a friend of Cortes. Medina gave the young
man lodging, and informed him of the laws of the land. Medina recommended that
Cortes register as a citizen; this would qualify him to receive lands for cultivation and
natives to help with the labor. Still focused on seeking adventure, Cortes vehemently
rejected the suggestion; he had come to these lands to find gold, not to be a farmer or a
peasant. At nineteen, Cortes had no idea how hard finding gold could be. Medina
suggested he think it over.
Upon the return of Governor Ovando, Cortes paid his respects and delivered his letters of
recommendation. The Governor received him well but gave him no special benefits. It
was not long before Cortes suffered from a lack of funds, and had difficulty making ends
meet. During this period, Columbus passed through Santo Domingo on his return from
the disastrous fourth voyage. Away trying his hand at mining, Cortes did not get to meet
Columbus when the sad, aging discoverer visited the island for the last time.
Shortly afterwards, Cortes received a commission from the Governor as Notary Public in
the small town of Azua on the southwestern shore of Hispaniola. There, he kept body
and soul together for six years serving as a notary. He also took up farming with the
assistance of some native laborers donated by the Governor to keep him, as befitted a
gentleman hidalgo, from the degradation of manual labor.
Despite his rather domestic focus during this period, his hunger for adventure did not
diminish. The same restlessness that caused him to fall from a wall in Spain also kept
him busy in Hispaniola. Rumor has it that he fought numerous knife duels with other
suitors for the ladies he fancied. According to one of his biographers, during one of
these encounters he suffered a cut under his lip that remained slightly visible despite the
fact that he later grew a beard (presumably to hide it).
Looking for adventure, he hoped to join Nicuesa‘s expedition to Veragua (Panama).
Unfortunately, he came down with an infection that caused severe inflammation of one of
his legs. His friends attributed the infection to his love life (perhaps another knife duel).
Whatever the cause, health problems again prevented him from joining an expedition that
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turned out to be a disaster. If the rumors spread by his friends are true, once again he
was saved from misfortune by the fortunes of love. An opportunity arose to participate in
the conquest of Borinquen, Puerto Rico, but Cortes abstained.
It turned out to be a good decision. Initially, the natives of Borinquen were unsure
whether Spaniards were mortals like themselves, and wondered if they could die.
Applying a native version of the scientific method, they decided to test the theory through
experimentation. Offering to carry a Spaniard on their shoulders across a river, they took
him to the middle and then submerged him. When he no longer seemed to struggle, they
pulled him out and left him on the shore for couple of days to see if he revived. During
that time they approached him on several occasions to see if he had recovered. When
irrefutable evidence of death made itself present, they concluded the experiment was
successful, and departed happy in the knowledge that Spaniards were mortal and could
be killed.
Governor Ovando was eager to determine if Cuba was an island or the mainland, as
Columbus had forced his crew to swear. He sent out an expedition under Captain
Sebastian Ocampo that confirmed what most people believed; Cuba was an island.
Ocampo, however, did nothing to conquer the island. By this time, Don Diego,
Columbus' son, had been appointed governor; he decided Cuba should be conquered.
The man chosen for the job was Diego Velasquez, a wealthy and charismatic settler.
In 1511, Velasquez left Hispaniola with three hundred men and additional reinforcements
from Jamaica under the command of Panfilo de Narvaez (who later played an important
role in the conquest of Mexico and the exploration of Florida). Narvaez was described
as a man of good stature, fair skinned, reddish hair and beard, likable and brave, and
somewhat careless as a commander.
Velasquez, enjoying to excess some of the fruits of his prosperity had become obese,
which made it difficult for him to move about. As a result, he entrusted most of the
fighting and conquest to Narvaez as his second in command. Although Hernan Cortes
was involved in the conquest of Cuba, he seems to have devoted himself more to civil
rather than military matters. He also made it a point to ingratiate himself with Velasquez.
At age twenty-six, he became secretary to the governor and to the King's Treasurer of
the island. Cortes had by now developed into an able soldier, but distinguished himself
more by his diplomatic skills, his cunning, and his ability to handle men.
True to his nature, it was not long before Cortes managed to involve himself in affairs of
the heart. Once more, he ended up in trouble. A certain Juan Xuarez of Granada who
had journeyed to Cuba with Velasquez, brought with him his mother and his three
sisters. The young ladies were beautiful in their own right, but in the absence of other
Spanish women on the island, they must have seemed like goddesses to the lonely
settlers. One of the girls, Catalina, was much taken with Cortes and he with her. His
passion and involvement, however, were not enough to inspire him to marry her.
Governor Velasquez, who was also in love with one of the three beautiful sisters, took up
Catalina‘s cause against Cortes. Bitter words were exchanged, and hard feelings arose
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between them. Cortes ended up in jail.
The governor probably had enough cause for jailing Cortes beyond his lack of
commitment to Catalina. Velasquez was probably doing the best he could to govern
wisely and justly under the difficult circumstances of the conquest of the island, but he
had created some enemies along the way. Cortes, as always a lightning rod for trouble,
opened his house to a clandestine meeting of conspirators who wished to send a bill of
grievances against the governor to the justices in Santo Domingo. Of course, who but
courageous, daring, and outspoken Cortes would they vote to undertake the dangerous
mission of navigating the perilous waters between the two islands?
The governor soon found out; he clapped Cortes in irons and put him in jail. The more
Velasquez heard, the more he wanted to hang Cortes. Being of a rather good
disposition, however, he finally relented and did not carry out the threatened execution.
Cortes was under the surveillance of one Cristobal de Lagos. To make sure the prisoner
could not escape, de Lagos slept in the same room with him. It is not known how Cortes
managed it, whether through charm, threats or bribes, but he soon escaped and sought
sanctuary in the church.
Velasquez knew that, after spending several days in church, the restless, reckless, and
hot-blooded Cortes would be bored to distraction. Velasquez simply lured Cortes
outside the sanctuary by using Catalina as bait. As soon as Cortes stepped outside, the
governor's men under Juan Escudero captured him. Escudero made the mistake of
mistreating his prisoner. That mistake would one day cost him his life. Cortes never
forgot nor forgave Escudero and settled accounts with him later.
Velasquez was not willing to take any more chances with Cortes; he put him on a ship to
Hispaniola. Cortes managed, with considerable pain, to squeeze his foot out of the
stock. Switching clothes with his servant, he went on deck and lounged about watching
sailors gathered around the galley. When the moment was right, he climbed down to the
ship's boat and rowed away. Before heading for the shore, he stopped at another ship
close by and untied its boat to eliminate any attempts at pursuit.
Cortes soon discovered he couldn‘t make land rowing against the swift flowing current of
the river. He decided instead to swim ashore. It is hard to understand why Cortes felt
that his chances of survival would be better by swimming in shark-infested waters at night
than by rowing. Whatever his rationale, he was not only brave and foolhardy, but also
shrewd; he tied his papers as Notary Public and Treasurer in a kerchief and carried them
on his head. Incredibly, he made it to shore. There, he hid in the bushes to avoid
soldiers on guard and patrol. He then made his way cross-country to the one place
where he would be least expected, the house of Juan Xuarez.
Cortes told Xuarex he was willing to marry his sister, and persuaded him to act as
mediator with the governor. In the meantime, Cortes returned to the church sanctuary.
The negotiations seem to have reached an impasse when Cortes, preferring daring
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action to protracted negotiation, showed up at the governor‘s field headquarters while he
was away campaigning against the natives. Velasquez must have been taken aback by
the sudden appearance of his enemy who showed up fully armed. Strong words
followed, but reason prevailed and the two men sealed their peace with a hearty Spanish
embrace. They later went for a walk, and that night even shared the same bed where
they were found the next morning by Diego de Orellana who had come to notify the
governor of Cortes' escape from the church.
Cortes participated in the military campaign and fought well. He was rewarded by the
governor with a large number of natives, and ample lands at a place called Baracoa
which later became St. Iago or Santiago. Cortes devoted himself to serving Velasquez
well and was appointed Alcalde or Mayor of Santiago. He brought cattle over from
Hispaniola and, in the following years, became quite wealthy from the shrewd
management of his properties and his natives. He also engaged in some gold mining.
Diego Velasquez, in the meantime, set about consolidating his political power by
establishing direct ties with authorities in Spain, intentionally bypassing don Diego Colon,
Columbus' son and the Governor of Indies. He also cultivated the friendship and support
of Miguel de Pasamonte, the powerful Treasurer of Hispaniola with whom Cortes had
already developed a good relationship.
While Grijalba was still in Mexico, Velasquez had despaired of hearing from him. Eager
to receive news of the expedition, he sent another caravel under the command of a good
soldier by the name of Cristobal de Olid. Olid got as far as Yucatan but was driven off by
strong winds. Forced to abandon his anchors while fighting the seas and the winds, he
turned back to Cuba.
In the meantime, Grijalba had sent Pedro de Alvarado back with news and some of the
gold. By now, Velasquez had sent three captains to establish a trading post in the new
land from which he hoped to begin the conquest and settlement of the area. None of the
captains had demonstrated the kind of boldness of thought and action that Cortes had
shown during his time in both Hispaniola and Cuba.
While still awaiting news from Grijalba and Olid, Velasquez had begun preparations to
send an even larger fleet to the ―Island" of Yucatan. The governor's eagerness was
stimulated by the fear that someone else might beat him to the new lands, and edge him
out of the title of Adelantado -- as well as the fortune he suspected could be his. In
addition to outfitting a new fleet, Velasquez further sought to protect his turf by sending
his chaplain, Benito Martin, to the court of Spain to present his case.
In 1516, King Fernando died and was succeeded by his grandson, Charles of Flanders.
Charles spoke no Spanish, and was ignorant of Spain, its geography, territories, peoples
and, especially, its politics. What the unknown priest from a god-forsaken comer of his
domain was requesting was totally irrelevant in terms of the King's European concerns
and priorities.
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It wasn't until the priest began to unveil the gold treasures Alvarado had brought back
from Yucatan that the King's language difficulties and geographic ignorance vanished.
His European concerns suddenly became less important. Benito Martin was no fool. As
soon as he saw the King's interest perk up, he pressed his case and walked away with
the title of Adelantado for Velasquez, as well as the title of Abbot of the "Rich Island of
Yucatan" for himself.
Back in Cuba, Velasquez was very reluctant to risk his own money. He quickly searched
for someone to carry the burden of financing the new expedition. He turned to a wealthy
gentleman by the name of Baltasar Bermudez. Bermudez refused because Velasquez
insisted he invest three thousand ducats. Bermudez felt that was more than the
expedition could produce. Cortes had two thousand ducats, but was smart enough to not
approach Velasquez directly.
There were two people Velasquez trusted: his secretary, Andres de Duero, and Amador
de Lares the accountant or Royal Treasurer. Over the years, Cortes had built up a strong
relationship with these two men, and seems to have secretly reached an agreement with
them. They would champion his candidacy with Velasquez and, in exchange for their
efforts, they would share in the profits of the expedition.
Earlier, Fray Bartolome de Las Casas had warned Velasquez about the Royal Treasurer.
Amador de Lares, who boasted of having spent twenty-two years in Italy. At that time
Italy was the hotbed of intrigue and treachery. "Beware of the twenty-two years in Italy,"
de Las Casas would remind him. The good friar proved to be right. Duero and Lares
soon went to work on Velasquez. Shortly afterwards, Velasquez approached Cortes with
the suggestion that they enter into the venture as partners. One can imagine the crafty
Cortes's "surprise" at the governor's request, his initial "reluctance" to investing in so risky
a venture, and Duero and Lares "helping" the governor persuade Cortes. There is a
Spanish saying that describes Cortes' squick wit and craftiness: "By the time others were
just starting out, he was already on his way back."
Velasquez could have done worse than to choose Cortes to organize a new expedition.
Cortes was very popular among the inhabitants of the island, he managed money well
and was an energetic and insightful leader. Persuasive and diplomatic, he would be able
to recruit enough men to support the conquest and settlement of the new lands. There
was also risk involved in the choice of Cortes because of his independence and
unruliness, but Velasquez urgently needed to establish a well organized presence in the
Yucatan area before anyone else could.
The governor had also covered himself legally by petitioning the proper authorities in
Hispaniola and Spain to support his expedition and future claims. Even though a long
time had passed since Velasquez and Cortes had been at odds with one another, it is
likely that the governor didn't fully trust him. At this point, however, he had little choice;
Cortes was the only man who could get the job done fast and well
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Cortes had already been in the New World fifteen years; he was thirty-four years old. His
early dreams of adventure and glory had been held in check while he went about
organizing his finances and domestic life. In Cuba, there had been little opportunity for
great deeds. Cortes had been forced by circumstance to buckle down and deal with the
economic realities of life. Now, the door to adventure lay wide open; now his energy and
passion could be devoted to the grandeur of exploration and conquest. He threw himself
into the organization of the expedition with typical intensity.
Cortes mortgaged his properties to the hilt and, when he ran out of credit, he persuaded
others to invest in the project. Six ships were outfitted, and 300 men signed up for the
expedition. To those who lacked the economic means to participate in the adventure,
Cortes offered financial assistance and the promise of a liberal share in the rewards.
How much Cortes and Velasquez each contributed to financing the project is difficult to
determine, but the general belief is that Cortes supplied two thirds and the governor one
third. The total cost of the expedition is estimated at twenty thousand ducats.
Velasquez's instructions to Cortes were to first find Grijalba who had not yet returned.
Then, he was explore and survey the coasts of the new lands, charting them with
greatest possible accuracy for future expeditions. He was also to search for six
Spaniards probable survivors of the Nicuesa expedition who were said to be held captive
somewhere in Yucatan. Velasquez instructed him to barter and trade equitably with the
inhabitants and, above all, to convert as many natives as possible to Christianity.
Velasquez's charter from the authorities in Hispaniola did not grant him the right to
colonize, so this was not included in his written instructions to Cortes; we don‘t know if
verbal instructions may have indicated otherwise. Cortes was appointed Captain General
of the expedition. Later, Velasquez received authority from the crown to colonize the new
lands. He received the title of Adelantado (literally, "The Advanced One"). Fray
Bartolome de Las Casas refers to the title of Adelantado as merely recognition that most
of the Conquistadors "got there and got their's first.‖
Note: Adelantado in Spanish means ―advanced‖ or ―ahead‖ De Las Casas‘ comment
was a play on words implying that the Conquistadors certainly got there ahead, and
made sure they also ―got theirs‖ ahead.
The governor‘s suspicious bent of mind soon turned to concerns about Cortes' loyalty.
His suspicions may have been aroused by the recognition and support Cortes received
throughout the colony. It is also possible that the new Captain General‘s demeanor
reawakened forgotten memories of his earlier behavior. As Velasquez's insecurity grew,
he decided to put someone else in charge of the expedition. He shared his misgivings
and thoughts with Duero and Lares, who promptly passed them on to Cortes. Cortes
took no chances, and decided to sail that same night. All the men and supplies were not
yet on hand, but Cortes quietly gathered his officers and prepared them for a midnight
departure. He then went to the town's meat supplier and relieved him of his entire
inventory, leaving the little town miserably short of meat. In exchange, Cortes gave the
merchant a massive gold chain of great value, which he had always worn about his neck.
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The fleet slipped its moorings during the night and was underway by dawn. When the
townsfolk awoke, they were surprised that the still incompletely prepared ships had left.
Apprised of the news, Velasquez galloped down to the wharf to verify the accounts he
had received. When Cortes spied the governor's rotund figure on the quay, he had
himself rowed in an armed boat to within hailing distance of the shore. Velasquez
reprimanded him for his unceremonious and less than gracious manner of leaving.
Cortes offered a thousand pardons. He explained that the press of time had made it
necessary to do some things before too much thought could be given to them. Cortes
changed the subject by asking the governor if he had any commands. Velasquez, in the
midst of his chagrin, could think of none, nor could he think of a good reply. Cortes
waived good bye and returned to his ship.
The fleet traveled that day, November 18, 1518, to the port of Macaca fifteen leagues
away. There, Cortes took stores from the royal farms, "a loan from the King‖ as he
described it. The fleet then moved on to the city of Trinidad, also in Cuba, where Cortes
set up an intensive recruiting effort. By now, Grijalba had returned, and a hundred of his
men (who must have been gluttons for punishment) volunteered to serve under Cortes.
The new Captain General‘s reputation attracted good men.
Among the volunteers were some experienced captains such as: Pedro de Alvarado and
Cristobal de Olid. There were also distinguished men among the settlers such as: Juan
Velasquez de Leon, related to the governor, Alonso de Avila, Gonzalo de Sandoval, and
Alonso Hernandez de Puertocarrero, all of whom would play major roles in the great
adventures of the following months and years.
Cortes continued accumulating supplies. He even went to the extent of sending one of
his ships to bring in a trading ship that was sailing close by loaded with supplies for the
mining operations. He paid the owner of the vessel, Juan Sedeño, with promissory notes
and persuaded him to join the expedition (which might have been the only way for
Sedeño to keep track of his investment). Word of another vessel was received; Cortes
dispatched Diego de Ordaz to catch up with it and bring it to a rendezvous point off Cape
San Antonio at the westernmost tip of the island. Looking to kill two birds with one stone,
he increased the chances of adding to his supplies and also rid himself for a while of
Ordaz who was a Velasquez man.
In the interim, Velasquez sent a letter to Francisco Verdugo, the commander of the post
at Trinidad, ordering him to seize Cortes who was to be deposed of his command which
the governor now had assigned to someone else. The commander conferred with the
principal officers of the expedition; they recommended against taking any action. They
said that such action would certainly generate commotion among the troops, and the
town might be reduced to ashes.
Cortes ordered Pedro de Alvarado to march overland to Habana with a small body of
men. There, they would rendezvous with the fleet, which would sail around the western
end of the island. In Habana, Cortes continued recruiting and victualling. He also
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unloaded all the heavy cannon and crossbows from the ships, presumably to have them
all receive proper maintenance and readied for the job ahead. By having all the
weaponry in one location at his headquarters on land, he also made it less likely that
anyone might consider independent action. As further preparation for the trials ahead,
Cortes had the soldiers' vests quilted with cotton to protect them against native arrows -a cause of many wounds in earlier expeditions.
Velasquez had not given up. He sent two letters to Habana, one to the commander of
the post, Pedro Barba, instructing him to apprehend Cortes, and another to Cortes
himself asking him to delay his departure until Velasquez could meet with him personally.
Velasquez seems not to have learned the lesson regarding never giving orders that can‘t
be carried out. Pedro Barba was no fool; he could see how loyal the men were to Cortes
who had gone to great lengths of personal commitment and generosity to earn their
friendship and respect. He also knew he was outnumbered. Discretion being the better
part of valor, Barba wished Cortes a safe and successful voyage. Later, he explained to
the governor how it had been impossible to carry out his orders.
On February 10th, 1519, the fleet sailed toward the rendezvous point of Cape San
Antonio and met with the two ships already there. Cortes now had eleven vessels; four
ranging from 70 to 100 tons burden, and the rest mostly caravels and open brigantines.
He had recruited 110 seamen, 533 soldiers, including 13 arquebusiers and 32
crossbowmen, and 200 Cuban natives (with a few women among them). He had 16
horses, 10 heavy guns, four falconers, and plenty of ammunition. The expedition's chief
pilot was Antonio de Alaminos who had sailed with Columbus on his fourth voyage and
later to Mexico with Hernandez de Cordoba and Grijalba.
No sooner had the fleet set sail for Yucatan than it was hit by a tropical storm that
scattered the formation. Cortes' command ship lagged behind to assist a vessel in
trouble; as a result, he was the last to arrive at CozumeL To his great chagrin, he
discovered that Pedro de Alvarado had already disembarked and looted the local temple.
Cortes placed Alvarado's pilot, Camacho, in irons for having disobeyed orders by running
ahead of the fleet. He publicly reprimanded Alvarado, and ordered his men to return all
the loot they had taken from the natives. Through interpreters, he told two natives taken
captive by Alvarado that the purpose of his voyage was peaceful trade. He loaded them
with gifts to take to their people who had fled in the interior of the island. Cortes
instructed them to ask their people to return to trade in peace and under his personal
guarantee of safety. The policy worked, and soon Spaniards and natives were actively
engaged in bartering.
Cortes now attempted to discover the whereabouts of the six Spaniards said to be held
captive in these lands. From local ―Pochtecas‖ or merchants, he received confirmation of
rumors about white captives among natives at a distant location. He sent Diego de
Ordaz with two brigantines to the opposite coast of Yucatan with instructions to remain
there no longer than eight days. Ordaz searched far and wide but was unable to find any
news of the Spanish captives. Cortes was frustrated. Unable to delay his departure any
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longer, he set sail. The fleet had traveled only a short distance when one of the vessels
sprang a leak, and they all had to return to port. They had just landed when a canoe with
several natives was seen approaching from Yucatan. When it landed, one of the men
inquired in broken Spanish if they were Christians. Upon hearing that it was so, he fell on
his knees and gave thanks to heaven for his delivery.
The man was a Spaniard, Jeronimo Aguilar, an unfortunate member of the Nicuesa
expedition. His ship had been on its way to Hispaniola when it was blown off course and
wrecked near Yucatan. He and several companions escaped in the ship's boat. Some
died of hunger, thirst, and exposure. Upon reaching Yucatan several were captured and
eaten by cannibals. Aguilar saved himself from a similar fate by escaping into the interior
where he was made a slave of a powerful cacique.
Treated harshly in the early stages of his captivity, Aguilar, who had been educated as a
priest, showed such signs of wisdom and humility that the cacique suggested he take a
wife among the women of the tribe. In a demonstration of devotion to his vows of
celibacy, unusual even among the saintliest of mortals (and especially among
Spaniards), Aguilar not only refused to marry but resisted all the temptations put in his
way by the cacique who distrusted such behavior. His consistency finally overcame the
cacique's suspicions. His virtue and counsel gained him the respect of all the natives.
Aguilar was entrusted with the care of the cacique's household -- including his wives.
Reluctantly, the cacique let Aguilar go. Aguilar's knowledge of the Mayan language
would later prove to be invaluable to Cortes.
The leaking vessel repaired, on March 4th, 1519, the fleet took to the sea again. Staying
as close as possible to the Yucatan coastline, the ships made their way past Cape
Catoche. Several times they had to backtrack to pick up stragglers. All along the way,
Cortes continued to explore, and tried to verify some of the earlier discoveries made by
Hernandez de Cordoba and Grijalba. Interested in determining if Boca de Terminos
would be a good site for establishing a colony, he sent a ship ahead under the command
of one of Velasquez's men, Escobar, nicknamed "The Page". He found an area of great
fertility and abundant game.
One of the most bizarre events of the entire trip took place when Escobar sent a landing
party ashore to explore the area. As the ship's boat approached the sandy beaches, a
hunting dog ran out of the bush.wagging its tail, and greeted the astounded Spaniards
with undisguisable glee. it was the dog accidentally left behind by Grijalba a year earlier.
Not only had it been able to take care of itself in the wild, but had remained near the
landing site of the first expedition always expecting its Spanish masters to return.
Cortes took the fleet to Rio de Tabasco where, earlier, Grijalba had traded successfully
with the natives. The ships arrived there on March 12th, 1519, and found that the
entrance to the river was silted up. Rather than risk running aground on the many
sandbars, Cortes took part of his force in the ships' boats and rowed upriver. They could
see much movement behind the mangrove trees. Arriving at a clearing, they ran into a
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large group of hostile natives. Given the unfriendly reception, Cortes withdrew to a
nearby island.
At dawn, the number of natives facing them across the river had grown substantially.
Cortes sent a hundred men under Alonso de Avila downriver to a secluded landing near a
path that led to the native village. De Avila's instructions were to march on the village.
Cortes then had a proclamation read and translated reassuring the natives of his
peaceful intentions and desire to trade. The natives did not understand the proclamation.
They responded with derision and a shower of arrows. Cortes led his boats toward the
native canoes, and engaged them in hand to hand combat. Soon, most of the boats and
canoes were overturned, and the combatants on both sides fought in water up to their
chests. The Spaniards eventually gained the advantage over their opponents despite the
arrows that rained down upon them from other natives on shore. Slipping and sliding in
the mud, Cortes and his men waded ashore and attacked the natives there. Recognizing
Cortes as their enemy's leader, the natives concentrated their efforts on killing him. They
shouted "Al calachuni' ("Kill the chief"').
Meanwhile, de Avila and his men had reached the village, and breached its defenses. At
this point, native resistance crumbled. Breaking off the battle with Cortes and his men,
the surviving natives fled into the woods. Entering the village, the Spaniards found that
the total reward for all their courage and wounds (fourteen men injured) amounted to only
a few tortillas -- and no gold.
That night, Cortes posted guards and kept his men on alert. One of Cortes‘ interpreters
was a native captured on Grijalba‘s voyage; he had been christened Melchior. Taking
advantage of the darkness, Melchior deserted the camp leaving his European clothing
hanging on a tree. Cortes was much concerned because of what Melchior might reveal
about the Spaniards' weaknesses to the natives.
The following morning, no natives could be seen. Cortes sent out two patrols, one under
the command of Padre de Alvarado, and the other under Francisco de Lugo. De Lugo
stumbled upon the natives‘ main force. He immediately came under such severe attack
that he and his men were forced to seek refuge in a large stone building. The war cries
of the attacking natives alerted Alvarado; he and his men who came to de Lugo‘s rescue
cutting their way through to his position. Alvarado had rescued de Lugo, but now the
problem was -- who would save both of them? Fighting at close quarters, swinging
swords and knives, the Spaniards cut their way out of the building, and moved toward the
village while still under heavy assault by the natives. When they got closer to the village,
Cortes and his men sallied and drove the natives off.
Prisoners taken during the combat revealed that the whole countryside was up in arms.
The Spaniards discovered that it had to do with Grijalba‘s visit. The local natives who
had traded with Grijalba and his men in a peaceful and friendly manner were accused by
their neighbors of being traitors and cowards. To remove this stain from their honor, the
Tabascans had sworn to fight to the death if any white men returned.
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Cortes prepared himself for a major battle. He disembarked the horses; they were still
wobbly and worn out from the long confinement aboard the ships. After a while on land,
however, they regained their spirits. Six heavy guns were brought ashore. The battle
order was decided; Diego de Ordaz would command the infantry; Mesa, an experienced
engineer, would be in charge of the artillery; Cortes would head up the cavalry. Cortes
decided to take the initiative. Rather than letting the morale of his troops suffer by having
them wait inside the walls of the village for the native attack,.at dawn, he marched his
troops out to find the enemy.
The natives were standing in battle order on a plain called Ceutla about three miles from
town. The enemy's force of some 40,000 men seemed to spread from horizon to
horizon. The naatives were organized in five squadrons of eight thousand men each.
Volleys of arrows and stones rained down upon the Spaniards. Despite the protection of
their quilted jackets, many of Cortes' men were injured in the first few minutes of combat.
The Spaniards carved out a space for themselves, and fired their artillery directly into the
massed native forces. The carnage was terrible but the natives hid the damage by
tossing dirt, stones, and hay into the air after each cannonade. Each time, they followed
up with renewed volleys of arrows. The Spaniards charged time and again. Their
cannon fired incessantly. Nevertheless, the native masses steadily pressed forward
constantly threatening to engulf the Spaniards in a human wave.
The battle raged for over an hour. The Spaniards were growing arm weary and fatigued
in the hot tropical sun. They sorely needed the cavalry, and began to wonder if it would
ever arrive. Suddenly, they noticed a conmotion at the rear of the enemy army. It had
taken Cortes much longer than he expected to advance the horses across the broken
ground. When he finally came upon the rear of the enemy force, the natives were so
heavily engaged that they did not see the cavalry until it was already upon them. Cortes
ordered lances aimed at face level and charged. The effect was absolutely terrifying for
the natives. With both horses and men protected by steel armor, the natives saw only a
huge armored mass (which they took to be a single creature) thundering down upon
them spitting men on the tips of battle lances. Taking advantage of the surprise, Ordaz
counter attacked with his infantry. The natives fled in complete disarray
Less than five hundred Spaniards had defeated forty thousand opponents. Weapons
advantage notwithstanding, such a feat is probably unparalleled in the annals of military
glory. The Spaniards themselves could hardly believe they had prevailed over such a
large force without help. They attributed their victory to divine intervention.
Among the prisoners taken that day were two chiefs. Cortes freed them and told them he
would overlook past grievances if their countrymen would come and make their
submission. If they chose not to accept his magnanimity, Cortes said he would destroy
their lands, and put every man woman and child to the sword. The message had its
effect. Several lesser chieftains appeared requesting permission to bury their dead.
Cortes granted their request and also told them he was expecting their principal chiefs to
come in person. The following day, thirty caciques showed up with gifts of abundant
food, and twenty female slaves. Cortes had received explicit orders that no Christian be
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allowed to lie with a pagan woman. Allways a practical man, Cortes had the women
baptized before handing them over to his captains.
By now, Cortes had become aware of the native method of recording events through
drawings that were then sent to authorities in the interior of the country. To further
impress the recipients of such reports, Cortes decided to engage in some showmanship
by staging a few dramatic gestures. He had the caciques gather in front of his tent, and
kept them there roasting in the stifling heat of the midday tropical sun. He rebuked them
for their behavior, and also informed them that they were now vassals of King Charles.
As he spoke, the largest of his cannons was fired off right behind the natives.
For those who didn‘t die of heart failure from the cannon‘s roar, he had another surprise.
Juan Sedeño‘s mare was hidden nearby; she had recently foaled on board ship. While
the natives were listening to Cortes, a stallion was brought up. Scenting the mare, the
stallion began to neigh and puff; prancing and stomping restlessly about, and thoroughly
terrifying the natives. Cortes said this was the horse‘s way of showing its displeasure
with their behavior. Intimidated, the natives began peaceful trade with the Spaniards.
The gold they offered, however, was small in quantity and of relatively inferior quality.
After a few days, the fleet renewed its voyage along the coastline passing many
landmarks recognized by the survivors of Grijalba‘s expedition. Finally they came to the
island Grijalba had named San Juan de Ulua. The lee of the island offered protection
from the storms that often swept down from the north at-this time of the year. Shortly
after the fleet anchored, a canoe approached from the mainland and made its way
directly to the Captain General‘s flagship. The natives bore gifts of fruits and flowers, as
well as some gold ornaments that were promptly traded for trinkets. A language barrier
arose; these natives spoke NahuatL Jeronimo de Aguilar, the translator spoke only Maya
- a very different language.
Cortes was informed that among the slaves presented to him by the Tabascans was a
woman who spoke Nahuatl and Maya; she was originally from Coatzcualco on the
southeastern fringe of the Aztec Empire. Her native name may have been Ce Malinali;
the Spaniards called her Marina. Marina interpreted from Nahuatl into Maya; Aguilar then
translated into Spanish. When Cortes spoke, the process was reversed. Given the
normal differences in meanings of same words between languages, and the vast cultural
gap between the Europeans and the natives, one can only wonder about the accuracy of
these translations.
In time, Marina learned Spanish and became an invaluable adjunct to the expedition.
Regardless of the languages involved, good translators do not merely substitute the
words of one language for those of the other, they actually sense the several meanings
intended and find the appropriate words to convey the speakers' thoughts. Marina, an
intelligent and ambitious woman, soon learned Spanish and gained Cortes‘ confidence.
She began as his interpreter, then became his secretary and, finally, his mistress. As her
prestige and importance grew, she was referred to as doña Marina. The Nahuatl title of
respect was actually the suffix "Tzin," added to the end of the person's name. The
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natives called Marina "Malintzin"; the Spaniards mispronounced it as "Malinche‖ (which
later became synonymous with ―traitor" among the Aztecs and today‘s Mexicans).
Despite the need to filter native messages through two languages before hearing them in
Spanish, Cortes was able to glean valuable of information from the Nahuatl-speaking
delegates. He learned for the first time of the existence of the great emperor
Motecuzoma whose capital was seventy leagues away in the mountainous interior. The
delegates came in peace, a pleasant relief after the combats at Tabasco, but wanted to
know the purpose of Cortes' visit. The area of San Juan de Ulua was in one of the
provinces of Motecuzoma‘s empire whose people were referred to by the locals as
Mexicas.
The governor of the province was Cuitlapitoc who lived eight leagues from the Spaniards‘
campsite. Cuitlapoc sent gifts of food and fruit along with a few objects of gold for the
white visitors. Cortes was pleased by the polite reception, and explained that he and his
men had come in peace to trade. He also inquired about the further availability of gold
such as the delegation had brought, and was much pleased to discover that there was
more in the interior. Loading the delegates with gifts, Cortes sent them back to
Cuitlapitoc with an invitation to visit him.
Two days later, Cuitlapitoc and Teuhtili, a Mexica noble, arrived at Cortes' camp. In the
interim, local natives and their families had come to see the strange white men and their
wonders. They bartered with the Spaniards, and the camp soon took on the air of a busy
fair. Cortes came forward to greet the visitors and their large cortege. He invited the
leaders to his tent where he shared dinner with them. During the course of the meal,
each side endeavored to find out about the other.
Cortes discovered that Motecuzoma ruled a vast empire called Colhua, a confederation
of cities among which was the capital, Tenochtitlan. The province where the Spaniards
had landed had been subjected only in recent years. Cortes surmised that the power of
Motecuzoma could not be challenged head on. The numbers of his armies would be
overwhelming despite the Spaniards' advantage in weaponry. Diplomacy, tact, and
subterfuge would be needed to undermine Motecuzoma‘s strength. The recognition of
this need is a clear indicator of Cortes‘ sophistication and statesmanship. Columbus
would have limited himself to the role of ambassador to what he would probably have
seen as an oriental potentate. Others might have contented themselves with either
trading with the local natives or raiding them. Not Cortes; he had a grander vision. This
land was to be conquered. This emperor had to be defeated.
The ambassadors presented Cortes with gifts from Motecuzoma, jeweled ornaments and
elaborate headdresses made of feathers. Neither Cortes nor his men were aware that
these ornaments and items of dress were of a religious character related to several of the
key gods, among them Texcatlipoca, Tiaocanlecutli, and Quetalzcoatl himself who,
Motecuzoma feared, might be Cortes. It was hoped that by Cortes‘ reactions to the
garments it would be possible to determine if he were indeed Quetzalcoatl. Not knowing
the significance given by the natives to these ornaments, Cortes failed to react to the gifts
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with anything more than courteous appreciation. His lack of reaction confused the
natives as to his identity.
The Mexicas asked Cortes where he and his men had come from and the reasons for
their visit. Cortes explained that he was the subject of a powerful king who lived across
the seas, and ruled a vast empire of many kings and princes. The king had sent Cortes
to communicate with Motecuzoma because he had become aware of his greatness and
importance. Cortes said his king had sent gifts and a message, which he was to convey
personally to Motecuzoma. Teuhtili haughtily replied that he was surprised that having
only just arrived, Cortes should already be demanding to see the emperor. The Mexica
went on to say that he had not known of the existence of another monarch of the power
of Motecuzoma, but his master no doubt would want to enter into communication with this
sovereign.
Teuhtili was accompanied by several scribes. They were charged with drawing details of
all they saw during their visit to the Spanish camp. The Spaniards were impressed by the
ability of these scribes. When Cortes heard that the drawings were meant for
Motecuzoma‘s eyes, he decided to make the delegates' visit memorable through a
demonstration of power. He ordered two cannons loaded with heavy charges of powder
to increase the magnitude of their roar. Cortes then mounted his charger and, in the
company of several of his men, awaited the firing of the guns. The cannon went off with
a great roar sending a cannonball crashing through the trees; it frightened the natives,
including the two ambassadors. Simulating a charge, the cavalry charged along the
beach. Cortes had instructed his men to run the horses along the ocean‘s edge so they
not bog down in dry sand. Duly impressed, the ambassadors gave instructions to their
pictographers to capture all the details of the demonstration.
Teuhtili noticed one of the Spanish soldiers was wearing a gilt (though somewhat rusted)
helmet; he asked to see it. He asked permission to take it to Motecuzoma because it
strongly resembled a helmet left to the Mexicas by the people who had preceded them,
and was worn by the idol of Huitzilipochtli. In Tenochtitlan, it was called the helmet of
Quetzalcoatl. By now, Teuhtili was almost convinced that Cortes was not Quetzalcoatl,
but decided it wouldn‘t hurt to check. Quick to take advantage of every opportunity,
Cortes asked if it could be returned filled with gold grains to see if their metal was the
same as that of Spain. Teuhtili said his good-byes promising to return with
Motecuzoma‘s reply.
Upon his ascension to the throne of Revered Speaker, Motecuzoma had demonstrated
humility, energy, enterprise and generosity. Before long, however, these qualities were
replaced with outrageous arrogance, incredible pomp, and poor judgment. Motecuzoma
alienated his allies, weakened his empire by extending it beyond the limits of the nation's
ability to support its commitments; in the process he had lost the affection of his own
people. As things got worse, he became filled with self-doubt and sought counsel in
superstitions and legends. Unfortunately, the signs and portents of the period augured
anything but happiness and prosperity.
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The approach of the year One Reed and the beginning of a new sheaf of years brought
with it a revival of speculation and expectation regarding the return of Quetzalcoatl. This
coincided with a series of disasters and events that frightened the people and caused
great concern about their meaning. In 1510, Lake Texcoco overflowed its bounds in the
midst of a mighty tempest that occurred without winds, earthquakes or other known
cause. The fury of the waters swept people off the streets, and destroyed many buildings
in Tenochtitlan.
A year later, the temple of Huitzilipochli atop the great pyramid, caught fire and despite
efforts to extinguish it was completely destroyed. People wondered how a building made
of stone could catch fire; they interpreted this as a sure sign of displeasure of the gods.
Some theorized that the fire had been fueled by the thick layers of dried blood
accumulated on the walls of the temple over the years. Later, three unpredicted comets
were seen in the skies. Then, a strange column of light was seen approaching from the
east; it was wide at the bottom, tapering off at the top, and "sparkled with stars in its
midst".
The more signs appeared, the greater the consternation and the speculation until almost
every unusual event was interpreted as a harbinger of worse to come. Motecuzoma‘s
name in Nahuatl meant "The sad (or severe) man.‖ As the signs grew in number and
significance, the more he began to resemble his name.
Despite the unrest and concern, the Empire and its institutions worked. Motecuzoma‘s
intelligence gathering system reported all three of the Spanish expeditions within days,
sometimes hours, of their happening. Scribes were usually on hand to render rather
accurate drawings of the events. Motecozuma and his counselors wondered if the white
men were Quetzalcoatl or his messengers.
When Teuhtili arrived in Tenochtitlan with the reports and paintings of his visit to Cortes,
Motecuzoma was distraught and truly fearful. The descriptions of the Spaniards, the
color of their eyes, skin, hair and beards, as well as that of the blacks among them,
disturbed Motecuzoma deeply. The crowning touch was the Spanish soldier's helmet
Teuhtili had requested from Cortes. When Motecuzoma saw the helmet and compared it
with the one worn by the idol of Huitzilipochtli, he concluded the visitors must indeed be
of Quetzalcoatl‘s people. They had to be "Teotls" (Teules, as the Spanish called them) or
gods. Before deciding how to respond to Cortes' gifts and messages, Motecuzoma had
several victims sacrificed, and then consulted his priests and counselors. Uncertain as to
how to treat the strangers, Motecuzoma made the worst decision, none.
Motecuzoma sent Cortes presents, and provided the Spaniards with food and shelter as
well as a assistance in caring for all their worldly needs. At the same time, he tried by
every means pssible to dissuade Cortes and his men from coming to Tenochtitlan. The
actions and messages were interpreted for what they were -- weakness. It was precisely
the wrong message to send gifts of gold to men who had great desire of wealth and little
respect for weakness.
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A week after Teuhtili departed, he returned to Cortes' camp with two Aztec nobles and
one hundred slaves bearing gifts. Another strange event took place during this visit.
Heading up the Aztec delegation was a noble who bore an amazing physical
resemblance to Cortes. The resemblance was so strong that the Spaniards found
themselves speaking of "our Cortes" and 'their Cortes". We do not know the double's
true name, only the Spaniards' version of it which was Quintalbor. No one knows why
Motecuzoma sent this double with the delegation. It is obvious that some message was
intended, but what? Motecuzoma‘s priests may have suggested some magical effect to
be achieved by the use of a double. It could have been intended as a compliment, or
could have also implied that "we have not forgotten you, Quetzalcoatl, and your children
still live among us".
Quintalbor and the other delegates greeted Cortes with great signs of reverence,
touching and kissing the ground, then raising their hands to their heads while spreading
clouds of incense smoke from censers they carried with them. Cortes missed the
religious implications of the greetings and general behavior of Motecuzoma‘s
ambassadors. Had he realized their import, he might have altered his behavior as well
as that of his men in front of the delegation by trying to behave in a more godlike manner.
Doña Marina should have been able to detect the importance of the ambassadors'
behavior. That she didn't raises questions about her claim that she was born to a noble
family before being sold off into slavery. A person of the Mexican nobility, even if from a
remote province, would have been expected to have some understanding of the signs
and symbols of reverence.
After the greetings came the gifts. Quintalbor, "their Cortes", had several cotton blankets
spread on the ground, and then began to unpack the presents. First, there was a disc of
gold described as "as large as a cartwheel," an Aztec sun calendar disc, estimated to
have a value of twenty thousand pesos de oro. Then there was a disc of silver, a moon
calendar, of equal size to the golden one. Following these gifts were: shields, helmets
(including the Spanish helmet taken by Teuhtili, now returned filled with gold grains),
pieces of armor embossed with pure gold plates and ornaments, numerous articles of
clothing with gold and silver thread, feathers, pearls and precious stones, bracelets and
necklaces of gold, small figures cast in gold and silver, and coverlets and curtains of
cotton in many colors interwoven with incredibly delicate featherwork. The Spaniards
were overjoyed, and did not hide their delight.
Motecuzoma had hoped to buy off Cortes. Instead, the sight of so much wealth only
increased the Spaniard‘s desire to arrive at the source of such magnificence. Quintalbor
and Teuhtlli asked Cortes to accept the gifts in the spirit in which Motecuzoma had sent
them, and divide them among the other Teules and their followers.. The ambassadors
told Cortes that Motecuzoma was pleased to have the strangers in his country, but that
an interview with him would be out of the question because of the great distance to the
capital, and the many dangers and inconveniences of the journey. (Motecuzoma seemed
to forget that Cortes and his men could count and knew that Teuhtili and his companions
had made the trip from the coast to Tenochtitlan and back in seven days.)
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Motecuzoma recommended that Cortes and his men remain safely in port where their
needs would be taken care of by Quitlapitoc and his people. Cortes accepted the gifts
graciously, and gave the ambassadors gifts for themselves and Motecuzoma, among
them a cup of Florentine glassware engraved with scenes from a hunt and trimmed with
gold. He also said he could not possibly return to his country without personally
delivering his king's message to Motecuzoma.
At this point, Cortes' situation was anything but satisfactory. He and his men were
camped on a mosquito-infested barren shore unsuited for a more permanent base; thirty
men had already died from the unhealthy environment. His relationship with Velasquez
was difficult, and he could expect the governor to take some sort of action against him at
the first opportunity. Motecuzoma and his thousands of warriors were a threat that still
had not been addressed. Then there was Motecuzoma‘s wealth, which Cortes so
ardently desired but could not access unless he could get to Tenochtitlan. Taking care of
first things first, he sent Montejo with the pilot Alaminos to explore the coast for a better
base.
In the meantime, Teuhtili again arrived from the capital. He brought with him gifts of gold,
emeralds, and ―Chalchiuitls‖ (jadestones) which the Aztecs prized greatly and deemed
them worth more than gold. In Europe, however, they had little value. The message
from Motecuzoma was the same as before only clearer: now that the Spaniards had
received what they came for, they should return to their King.
While this was happening, the bell rang for vespers. The Spaniards fell to their knees to
say their prayers and chant their hymns. The Aztecs watched alI this with curious
surprise. Cortes interpreted this as a sign that it might be a good time to carry out his
other main mission, that is, to gain new souls for Christianity. Together with his chaplain
and his interpreters, Doña Marina and Aguilar, he attempted to explain the mysteries of
his religion. Placing a small figure of the Madonna with the Christ child in their hands, he
told them to replace their idols with an image of true faith. It was one thing to insist on an
interview with their emperor, and quite another to ask the emissaries to destroy their
sacred images replacing them with these new strange ones. The ambassadors left in a
huff. That night, the local natives, who had built several hundred huts for the Spaniards,
disappeared from the camp. The Spaniards were left on their own with no source of
supplies. Cortes even feared the possibility of an attack and took the necessary
precautions. Nothing happened.
With the local natives no longer bringing supplies, food became very scarce. Feeding
five hundred men a day is no small task. There were no crops to raid as Cortes wanted
to maintain good relations with the natives, and ships' food supplies must have been
nearly exhausted by this time. The sailors, more adept at survival techniques and more
enterprising (in this sense) than the soldiers, set up a fishing industry of sorts. The catch
was then sold to the soldiers for the gold they had bartered from the natives.
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After a difficult voyage of some twelve days through stormy waters, Montejo returned with
little to report regarding favorable campsites. He had gone as far north as Panuco, but
the weather had beaten him back. The best location he had seen was a site about thirty
six miles from the present camp at a place called Quiahuitzlan. A small Mexica town with
a fortress and several good buildings, the new site offered a good harbor fairly sheltered
from stormy north winds, and lands plentiful in rivers, woods, and building materials.
Bad food, sickness, and an active Velasquez faction within the camp were having their
effect on morale. Cortes was always sensitive to the feelings of his men, and strove
constantly to ensure their support. He was equally alert to attempts by the Velasquez
dissidents to create further unrest. This is the reason why he had chosen Montejo, one of
the Velasquez leaders, to lead the exploration effort along the Mexican coast. It also kept
Montejo from being actively engaged in camp politics. Further, it also made him
responsible for the choice of the new campsite.
Cortes decided to move the camp to Quiahuitzlan. The decision caused a wave of protest
among the Velasquez faction. They felt the situation was bad enough without further
exposing them to more uncertainties and dangers. It was time to go back to Cuba, they
said, and take the gold they already had. Tired, hungry and sick, they were also
homesick for their wives and families, and their homes in Cuba. They had earned a rest
and would be returning in triumph. Why not go back now while they still had their lives?
Why risk all in a land where the natives were so many, so warlike, ate their enemies, and
later also wore their skins?
Cortes was a canny leader, and sensed the unease of his men. He prepared for this
moment by having his Lieutenants canvass the troops individually during the preceding
days. Alvarado, de Olid, de Avila, Escalante, de Lugo, and others made the rounds of
the camp to tallk with the men. They suggested to them that the Velasquez faction was
eager to return to Cuba because they and Velasquez would get to keep all the gold.
Under this arrangement, they said, the men who had volunteered to join Cortes, who had
financed their own expenses and risked so many dangers, would have nothing left but
their wounds and their debts. Better to follow the lead of so many of their companions
who preferred to settle this land in the name of His Majesty the King. Better to earn gold
and glory under Cortes, than to return to Cuba and Velasquez. At the right time, each
man would have a chance to cast his vote either way, but a vote for Cortes would be a
vote for the welfare and triumph of all the men.
Francisco de Montejo discovered Cortes' stratagem, and accused him of plotting to claim
these new lands for his own benefit. With no supplies and few men they had little chance
of settling so vast a land, Montejo said. He believed Cortes should fulfill his obligation to
Velasquez by returning to Cuba. Cortes cunningly avoided a confrontation. Saying he
would not act contrary to Velasquez' instructions, he agreed to return to Cuba. Cortes
had the crier make the rounds of the camp announcing that on the following day all the
men should embark on the same ships in which they had arrived. As Cortes expected,
this announcement immediately raised a wave of protest among the men who had been
canvassed earlier. The men gathered and, in passionate argument, attempted to
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persuade Cortes to accept their demands. They asked that he stay, settle this land, and
found a city with a full complement of civil authorities. Cortes did not give in easily to
their demands; he set conditions. He was to be elected Captain General and Chief
Justice; he would also be awarded a fifth of the gold after the King's fifth had been
deducted.
Cortes asked for a day to think the matter over, as he did not want to appear too eager to
accept what he had wanted and planned all along. Having done so, he "reluctantly"
agreed to their demands. He created the township of Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz (Rich
Village of the True Cross). Then he appointed his close friend Puertocarrero and the
Velasquez leader Montejo as authorities (to compromise the latter). The town was
formed, but lacked a site; the next step would be at Quiahuitzlan -- when they got there.
The Velasquez faction, despite the defection of Montejo, revolted and would have taken
up arms had Cortes not acted quickly. As Captain General and Chief Justice, and with
the support of his men, he felt no need to compromise. Acting in his new capacity, he
had the leaders Juan Velasquez de Leon, Diego de Ordaz, and Juan Escudero (the
same Escudero who had captured and mistreated Cortes in Cuba) taken aboard the
ships and placed in irons. Cortes then announced that those who wished to leave for
Cuba could do so, but there were no takers. To solve the food problem, he sent Alvarado
and many of the Velasquez party on a foraging expedition. Given his penchant for highhandedness, Alvarado was instructed to not cause any damage to the natives.
In the meantime, Cortes went to work on winning over the imprisoned Velasquez leaders.
They were important men and, if he could turn them, they might prove valuable allies in
the days to come when he would sorely need all the help he could get. He managed to
persuade several of them, including Diego de Ordaz, and Velasquez de Leon who
became one of his staunchest supporters. In some cases, persuasion took the form of
gold which speaks a language all its own. Within a few days, most of the rebels had
been released from prison.
Cortes maintained constant military security around the camp. Regular sentry posts were
established, and a duty roster kept for manning them. During this time one of the sentry
posts reported the arrival of five natives of a different kind. They wore ornamental lip
plugs and bluestone plugs in their earlobes. Courtly in their approach, they indicated by
signs an interest in entering the camp. Neither Aguilar nor dona Marina understood their
language. Dona Marina asked if they spoke Nahuatl and two responded favorably. It was
determined that they were Totonacs, and came from a place called Cempoal whose chief
was anxious to receive a visit from Cortes. The Totonacs were tributaries of the Aztecs,
and were unhappy with the heavy taxes paid to Motecuzoma. As Cempoal was along the
way to Quiahuitzlan, Cortes accepted their invitation to visit their chief. He was eager to
find out more about these natives who might be enemies of Motecuzoma.
The army broke camp and marched along the sandy beaches toward its new base. The
land became greener and more hospitable as they advanced, but they also found
frequent evidence of bloody sacrifices in the empty villages along the way. Cortes kept
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the army in good marching order ready, if necessary, to react quickly to any threat that
might suddenly appear along the way. When they were within three miles of Cempoal,
they saw what seemed like a walking garden advancing toward them. A delegation of
twenty noble Cempoalans greeted Cortes and his lieutenants with bunches of roses.
Cempoal turned out to be a delightful city with well laid-out streets lined with tastefully
built houses surrounded by gardens and orchards. The advance scouting party excitedly
rushed back to report that the facades of the first houses seemed to be lined with silver.
It was later discovered that the houses had recently been whitewashed. Between the
glare of the midday July sun and the feverish imaginations of the treasure- hunting
scouts, bright white had seemed silver from a distance. The scouts became the butt of
much ridicule from their companions as a result of this fantasy. Nevertheless, Cempoal
did look beautiful to men who had spent a long time on a mosquito-infested beach; the
Spaniards liked it so much, many of them named the town Seville.
The roses sent with the delegation were meant to be an apology by the cacique for not
having traveled to greet Cortes personally. The reason was that he was too fat for such a
journey. Cortes and his men came to a large square where they were received with gifts
of food. After the long stretch at the beach without much food, this was a very welcome
change of diet. When the Spaniards had finished eating, the cacique came to call on
Cortes. Cortes greeted him with warmth and many courtesies, and went into his now
usual explanation about the King of Spain and the Christian religion. The fat cacique
listened patiently though not with much interest. Then, with great sadness, he described
the heavy burden of Motecuzoma‘s yoke.
The Aztec domination of the Totonacs had been recent, and with it had come the many
abuses the fat cacique described: his treasure taken away, young men and women taken
as captives, and the crushing burden of heavy taxation. Cortes listened carefully and
promised to help the cacique once he and his men were installed in Quiahuitzlan. The
cacique placed four hundred Tlamemes or bearers at the army's command. This was a
great relief to the rank and file soldiers who had marched all this way with full packs.
Lightened of their loads, the soldiers quickly advanced uphill to Quiahuitlan. Fearful of
the Spaniards' cannon and horses, the occupants had fled. Had they chosen to stay and
fight, the Spanish troops would have had a difficult time trying to seize this fortified city on
top of the craggy hill. No sooner had Cortes and his men occupied the Quiahuitzlan than
the fat cacique arrived (in a litter, of course) to further expand on the miseries and
indignations inflicted upon him and his people by Motecuzoma and his tax collectors.
Once again, Cortes was treated to the story, told with sighs and tears, of wives and
daughters ravished by Motecuzoma‘s men who were terrorizing a district comprised of
thirty towns where harvests had been confiscated and young people taken for sacrifices.
While he listened, Cortes was probably making mental notes about the military
manpower potential of the Totonacs if they could be encouraged into open rebellion
against Motecuzoma. The fat cacique's tale of woe was actually moving; Cortes' men
were beginning to mutter in indignation at the injustices wrought by Motecuzoma and his
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minions. Suddenly, several very excited natives arrived with news that made the fat
cacique and his companions turn pale and quake with fear; five of Motecuzoma‘s tax
collectors had arrived.
The consternation caused by the arrival of the five Mexica tax collectors resulted in a
general rush by the fat cacique (carried away in his litter) and his companions to prepare
for the unexpected visit.
Cortes was left alone with his thoughts. While the Totonacs of Cempoala and
Quiahuitzlan busied themselves ensuring that the tax collectors would be appropriately
housed and fed, Cortes must have wondered how reliable these people would be as
allies. As he and his men were commenting these developments, the five Mexicas strode
into the square. They marched right by Cortes without so much as a glance. In their
elaborately adorned robes, glossy hair tied in a knot at the top of the head, with a
bouquet of roses in the left hand and curved baton of authority in the right, the
Calpixques (as they were called in Nahuatl) carried themselves with great dignity and
arrogance. Surrounded by subservient local chiefs and attendants fanning flies away
from them, they made their way to their lodgings. After dining, they summoned the fat
cacique and upbraided him for having dared to harbor and entertain the white men
without authorization from Motecuzoma. The Calpixques then ordered that twenty young
men and women be made available for sacrifice to the gods to cleanse this misbehavior.
By this time the fat cacique was a nervous wreck; waves of rolling tremors shook his
obese figure. Leaving the presence of the Calpixques, he was immediately summoned
by Cortes who had been informed by doña Marina of what was taking place. Cortes
appeared infuriated by the outrageous behavior and demands of the Mexica officials. He
told the very confused and frightened fat cacique that he was now under the protection of
the Spanish King. Not only should he refuse the Calpixques, demands, Cortes said, he
should also imprison them. This daring suggestion so shocked the Totonacs that Cortes
had to repeat his words with strong insistence on the rightness of this action. The fat
cacique was torn by conflicting fears. Persuaded by Cortes' calm assurance, he gave the
order. Bound hand, neck and foot by straps around long poles, the Calpixques were
imprisoned and placed under guard; one who resisted was even flogged.
Cortes shrewdly played upon the fears and resentment of the local tribes. In so doing he
was also creating the impression that his power was as great or greater than that of
Motecuzoma. In challenging the Aztec authority, Cortes established his own. This was a
dangerous maneuver as it could have brought down the full wrath of the Aztec Emperor
upon Cortes and the local natives. Cortes was gambling that it wouldn‘t, perhaps he
sensed Motecozuma‘s indecisiveness. He must have also thought that if faced with
overwhelming odds, he and his men could retreat to their ships. With that option open,
he had little to lose and much to gain if his stratagem worked.
Cortes assembled the Totonac chiefs and told them to inform their villages that they no
longer needed to pay tribute to Motecuzoma, and should send any Mexica tax collectors
to him. The Totonacs marveled at the Spaniard's daring. Such acts could not be
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performed by ordinary human beings. The white, bearded visitors must indeed be Teotls
or Teules. This was the point of no return for the fat cacique; he and his people were
now committed to becoming allies of the Spaniards. Cortes knew he could now call upon
the Totonacs to assist him in his confrontations with Motecuzoma. Their reliability in
combat was an unknown. But, he at least could count on several thousand men to offset
the overwhelming superiority of Motecuzoma‘s warrior hordes.
The caciques wanted to sacrifice the prisoners so none of them could return to
Tenochtitlan to report on these events. Cortes was not yet ready to place himself in open
confrontation with Motecuzoma. He ordered that the Calpixques not be harmed; saying
he would take care of them. Not trusting the caciques to not injure or kill the Calpixques,
Cortes sent some of his own men to guard them. That night, while the Totonacs were
resting, Cortes instructed his men to release two of the prisoners. He told the guards to
choose the two who in their opinion were the most intelligent and bring them to him.
When the surprised Mexicas were brought before him, Cortes acted as if he knew
nothing about their situation. He treated the prisoners kindly, and in a gentle voice asked
them where they were from and why they were imprisoned. After hearing their reply, he
told them he was sorry about their plight, and ordered food brought for them. While the
Calpixques ate, he told them to return to Motecuzoma and tell him that the Spaniards
were all his good friends. They were to tell their emperor that Cortes had freed them and
that he would also procure the release of the remaining prisoners to his custody so he
could protect them from harm. He encouraged them to leave as soon as possible to
avoid recapture by the Totonacs. The two Calpixques said it would be difficult for them to
get through Totonac territory without harm. Cortes had six of his seamen take the two
Calpixques by boat to a safe area twelve miles beyond the Totonac border.
The following morning, the fat cacique and his people were alarmed by the "escape" of
the two prisoners; he insisted the remaining three be sacrificed. Cortes feigned anger at
the escape and ordered a chain brought from his ships. The remaining Calpixques were
then chained and transferred to the ships "to ensure they would not escape". There,
Cortes ordered the chains removed, and the prisoners were told in a friendly manner that
they would soon be returned to their country.
In the meantime, word had spread throughout Totonac territory about the strangers and
the wondrous events of the imprisonment of the Calpixques. People began to arrive from
afar to see these Teotls and their strange trappings. With the "escape" of the two
Calpixques, the fat cacique and his followers knew that Motecuzoma would soon be
aware of their treachery. They knew ―the Severe Man" (the meaning of Motecuzoma‘s
name in Nahuatl) would not take such effrontery lightly. They feared his retribution. After
conferring, the Totonacs agreed to seek the protection of the Spaniards. Ever mindful of
legalities and of the need to document important decisions, Cortes ordered Diego de
Godoy, the royal notary, to record the oaths of allegiance taken by the local chiefs to King
Charles and his mother Juana (still considered queen despite her madness).
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The matter of the alliances settled, Cortes decided it was now time to build a real Villa
Rica de la Vera Cruz. With the assistance of native workers, but mainly through the
efforts of Cortes and his men, a town was laid out and built a mile and a half from the
native fortress town of Quiahuitzlan. Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz was to have a church, a
market place, an arsenal, and a fort. To set an example, Cortes was the first to start the
digging for a foundation. He even carried stones on his back for the construction of the
fort. All of the Spaniards worked hard and steadily at the building of the town. Soon,
they had set up kilns, made brick, carried water, chopped and shaped timbers, and had
even set two blacksmiths dedicated to making nails.
While Cortes and his men were busily engaged in building their new town, word reached
Motecuzoma of the imprisonment of the Calpixques by the Totonacs. The Revered
Speaker of the Aztecs was enraged by this challenge to his imperial authority. Such
defiance by a subject race such as the Totonacs must be severely punished. Orders
were issued for the imperial army to prepare for a campaign against the Totonacs. As
the preparations for war were being made, the two Calpixques released by Cortes
arrived. Their tale of imprisonment by the Totonacs followed by Cortes' kindly treatment
and release had the desired effect. These mixed signals generated equally mixed
reactions. Motecuzoma was angry but uncertain about the proper level of response.
Cortes had read his man well; the Revered Speaker chose a middle path. Motecuzoma
sent two of his nephews with gold and other presents for Cortes with a message of
thanks for freeing the Calpixques. They also notified him that the Totonacs were
destined for punishment, but would be spared until Cortes was no longer their guest.
With his sense for the theatrical, Cortes made the Mexica ambassadors wait while he and
his men cleaned up from their building efforts. He then had a chair brought for his use
while he surrounded himself with his captains and standard bearers to receive the
ambassadors. He acknowledged the gifts from Motecuzoma, and gave the ambassadors
presents for their master. He replied to Motecuzoma‘s message saying that he was
displeased with Cuitlapitoc's behavior. By suspending the supply of food at the earlier
camp at San Juan de Ulua, he had forced the Spaniards to move to their present location
where they received the hospitality of the Totonacs. Cortes indicated that no punishment
of the Totonacs would be acceptable, as they had acknowledged the authority of the King
of Spain. Therefore, this matter would be left for negotiations at the time when
Motecuzoma and Cortes would meet. Cortes‘ management of this meeting kept the
Totonacs in awe of the powers of these strangers. Surely, they must be Teotls. Who
else could defy the powerful Motecuzoma, and keep his emissaries waiting to present
him with their mighty master's gifts?
The fat cacique thought to take advantage of his friendship with Cortes. Accompanied by
other chieftains, he approached Cortes with a tale about a nearby town, Cingapacinga,
about two days‘ march away. He said Mexica soldiers stationed there were destroying
crops and harming the residents. The story was well told. Cortes had no reason to
suspect the fat cacique's tale was anything other than the truth. He ordered his troops to
assemble for a campaign against Cingapacinga. Seven Spaniards, followers of
Velasquez, flatly refused to participate in the campaign. They claimed Cortes had
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reneged on his promise to allow those who so desired to return to Cuba. He agreed to
their demands and ordered a ship readied. Then, he waited.
As Cortes probably expected, the rest of his men opposed sending anyone back to Cuba;
they insisted he rescind the order and also forbid any desertions under pain of death.
Having been asked to do what he had wanted all along, Cortes acquiesced.
Accompanied by two thousand native warriors, the army marched on Cingapacinga. As it
approached the craggy heights where the town and its fortress were built, the local chiefs
and priests came in a delegation to meet with Cortes. With tears in their eyes, the
Cinpacingans asked why he wished to do them harm. Upon being told the motive of the
expedition, they explained that the Mexicas had been there, but had left after the
Calpixques had been imprisoned. They explained that the real reason for the fat
cacique's request was an old grudge between their peoples.
Cortes gave orders that the Cempoalans not plunder the town or its people. Some of
Cempoalans had already commenced their looting. Angered at being duped, Cortes
forced the natives to return everything, slaves, hens and all. He then insisted that the
two native peoples enter into a truce, which they did and afterwards respected. Cortes
wanted peace in his backyard before venturing forth to meet Motecuzoma‘s forces. He
knew that justice and fairness were his best allies in gaining the support and loyalty of
local peoples.
Another incident allowed Cortes to make his point with great eloquence. One of the
Spaniards was unfortunate enough to be seen by Cortes himself while stealing two hens.
Cortes' instructions had been clear and the penalties for looting were understood by all
Although he could ill afford to lose any of his own men, Cortes ordered the man hanged
on the spot. As the noose began to tighten, Pedro de Alvarado drew his sword and
slashed the rope. Most likely, crafty Cortes had probably pre-arranged with Pedro de
Alvarado that he cut the rope at just the right moment. Whether or not he did arrange the
whole scene, it worked; discipline was upheld, the example had been given to all, and
Cortes‘ own men – who might of thought the punishment exaggerated – were satisfied
with the outcome.
Hoping perhaps to atone for their attempt to make fraudulent use of their friendship with
Cortes, the Cempoalans offered the Spaniards food and lodging. They also presented
them with eight of their daughters. Among these was the niece of the fat cacique. Like
her uncle, she was fat -- and ugly. (This may have been the wily fat cacique's way of
getting even with Cortes for stopping the pillaging of Cingapacinga.) Cortes received the
gifts as graciously as possible, but stated that he could not accept them until the
Cempoalans gave up their idols, human sacrifice, cannibalism, and sodomite practices.
This was no small demand for people who saw nothing wrong with these practices and
respected the ways of their ancestors.
Although far from saintly, the Spaniards were indeed intensely religious. They were
genuinely revolted by the gory human sacrifices of the locals. Even though Cortes was
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intent upon building a solid base of alliances for confronting Motecuzoma, he would not
budge on this issue. He was adamant and determined to fight, if necessary, to
accomplish this goal. The natives protested vehemently and at one point even began to
string their bows. Cortes continued explaining his reasons through doña Marina. He
finally resorted to the most telling argument: if the Cempoalans went against the
Spaniards, they would still have to deal with Motecuzoma later. The fat cacique and his
entourage realized there was no way out -- and gave in.
As soon as they did, fifty Spanish soldiers, of their own accord, raced to the top of the
local pyramid temple and destroyed the idols. The temples were then cleaned and
whitewashed, and the Cempoalan priests were forced to cut their long, blood-matted hair.
Placing a painting of the Madonna and ChiId, and a cross in the temple, the Spaniards
then had Father Olmedo say mass. During this ceremony, the eight native maidens were
baptized and allocated by Cortes to his troops. The most beautiful girl was christened
doña Francisca, and given by Cortes to his good friend Alonso Puertocarrero (to whom
he had originally given doña Marina). The fat cacique's ugly niece was christened doña
Catalina, and Cortes received her with as much grace as he could muster for the
occasion.
Having accomplished his initial goals with the Cempoalans, Cortes now turned his mind
to the problems behind him. While he had been away with the Cempoalans, a ship he
had been forced to leave in dry-dock in Cuba, arrived with food. Also on board were ten
more soldiers under the command of Luis Marin an able officer, plus one horse and a
mare. Marin brought news that Velasquez had been appointed Adelantado of Cuba with
authority to establish colonies in the new lands. Cortes knew Velasquez would not
remain inactive much longer. He would soon face challenges from the governor. There
was also the matter of the legitimacy of his own position. Whatever he hoped to
accomplish in these new lands would have to be sanctioned sooner or later by the
Spanish authorities.
Although he never finished law school, Cortes was also enough of an attorney to know
that possession is nine points of the law. He was in the new lands and knew of their
wealth and potential for the Spanish crown. All the sacrifices and efforts of Cortes and
his men would be for naught if Velasquez or another could take them away with the
stroke of a pen.
A fair chance at obtaining legitimacy had to be created. Following the old Spanish
proverb, "He who strikes first, strikes twice", Cortes decided to send his own emissary to
the Spanish court. Such an emissary would need to be most eloquent. None of his men
displayed such eloquence. But Cortes possessed something far more eloquent and
persuasive, gold.
Cortes prepared a ship with ample supplies to support a crew of fifteen for a direct
voyage to Spain. Fully aware that the King's fifth would not be enough to achieve his
purpose, Cortes secretly agreed with his captains to give up their own shares of the gold
to enhance the present. He then suggested that Diego de Ordaz and Francisco de
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Montejo (a Velasquez faction leader to whom he had already given two thousand pesos
de oro), go among the men and privately ask each one to voluntarily surrender his share
of the treasure to enhance the present to the King. He also appointed his good friend
Alonso Hernandez Puertocarreron and Francisco de Montejo as emissaries to the King.
Assembling his men, Cortes told them of the need to report to King Charles. He also said
he would be sending a report of their accomplishments to date, and suggested that ten of
them also write directly to the King with their own versions of the same events. He then
said it was time for them to receive their shares of the treasure. In order to do so,
however, it would be proper to first deduct the King's fifth. In keeping with his penchant
for the forms and trappings of legality, Cortes appointed Alonso de Avila as King's
Treasurer, and Gonzalo Mejia as Treasurer of the Army. He convoked the council of Villa
Rica de la Vera Cruz and received their approval of the treasurer appointments. He then
had the treasures displayed in the square for all to see. Gold and silver, including the
Sun and Moon calendar discs, valued at 27,000 ducats*, extraordinarily beautiful
featherwork, and other treasures were turned over to the treasurers who weighed and
counted them all. He then gave them the order to distribute the treasure. Having rigged
the election, Cortes merely awaited the predictable result. The men voted to send their
shares to the King. They were willing to make this sacrifice to atone for past
transgressions and to obtain the King's favor.
*Note. The ducat originated in Venice and was named after the Duca, also referred to as
Doge or Duke. It was a gold coin of 3,560 grams.
Cortes appointed Antonio de Alaminos as the pilot of the messenger ship. Alaminos
knew the passage through the Bahama Channel well since he had discovered it. The
emissaries were wished God speed and told that under no conditions should they touch
Cuban shores. On July 26, 1519, they set sail from San Juan de Ulua with the treasures
thus far generated by the expedition. In addtion, four young native men and two women
who had been liberated from the cages where the fat cacique had been fattening them for
sacrifice to the gods, were aboard the ship. Cortes also supplied the three thousand gold
Castellanos for the emissaries‘ expenses. The emmisaries were also charged with
delivering three thousand gold Castellanos to Cortes‘ father. This gold was probably
intended for "persuasion" purposes at the court. Cortes understood the mechanics of
expediting courtly and legal procedures.
The best laid plans of mice and conquistadors often go astray. Despite Cortes‘ clear
instructions to avoid stopping at Cuba, Montejo, who owned a plantation on the northern
side of the island near Marien, persuaded the captain to make a short stop there.
Montejo just wanted to see how his affairs were progressing. Predictably, one of the
sailors from the messenger ship contrived to sneak ashore and get to Santiago where he
did what sailors in port generally do -- he bragged about his adventures. Soon, everyone
who was anyone in Cuba, including the governor, had heard of the expedition‘s success
and of the ship on its way to Spain. Velasquez reacted with expected fury, and quickly
dispatched two fast sailing vessels hoping to overtake the messenger ship and bring her
back to port. They missed the boat, literally. The Governor‘s frustration spurred him to
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mount an expedition large enough to wreak his vengeance on Cortes. Between the
obese Velasquez and the fat cacique, it seems Cortes was predestined to make trouble
for adipose authorities
Trouble was also brewing back at Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz. Four days after the
departure of the messenger ship, a man by the name of Bernardino de Coria asked to
speak with Cortes. Filled with fear and trepidation, he confessed that he was involved in
a conspiracy with several Velasquez followers. They planned to steal one of the ships
and sail to Cuba with full details of the events in the new lands for Governnor Velasquez.
The plotters were ready to sail that very night. Cortes acted swiftly. He removed the
compass and the rigging from the designated vessel. He then arrested the conspirators.
Among them were Juan Escudero (who recaptured and mistreated Cortes after his
escape from imprisonment in Cuba), Juan Cermeño, Gonzalo Umbria, the pilot, and Juan
Diaz, a priest.
Justice was harsh and immediate. Escudero was hanged. Cermeño was sentenced to
hang (there is reason to believe that the sentence may not have been carried out).
Umbria had his feet cut off, and two sailors were flogged. Juan Diaz, the priest, was
spared out of respect to the church, but received such a tongue lashing from Cortes that
he quaked with fear. By the standards of the time, the punishments were relatively mild.
Cortes was ever mindful of the fact that his men were volunteers, to be led rather than
driven. Although he brooked no challenge to his authority, he was often magnanimous
with those he thought could be useful members of the expedition.
Juan Escudero was probably dangerous; his treason gave Cortes an ideal opportunity to
settle an old score while getting rid of a potential source of threat. Cermeño may have
had his uses and was allowed to live. Gonzalo de Umbria, the pilot, must have been
considered dangerous because of his navigational skills, which made him valuable to
potential defectors.
Why didn‘t Cortes have Umbria killed instead of amputating his feet. Why so brutal a
punishment? Perhaps it was not considered so by the standards of the time. Why his
feet? Perhaps it was considered less cruel than cutting off his hands. Who knows? It
could be that de Umbria set a better example of the price of treason by leaving him alive
but maimed. Besides, a pilot who could not stand on deck to guide his ship could not be
of much use to anyone, nor could he be of special threat to Cortes.
Cortes now set about reducing the possibility of further conspiracies. He moved the men
away from the ships by sending most of the army under the command of Alvarado to
Cempoala. A few days later, he rejoined the main party with the remaining troops. As
long as the ships existed, however, the temptation to commandeer one and sail to Cuba
would always be there. Cortes ran this thought by his friends along with the suggestion
that it might be wiser to get rid of the ships. He also asked them to plant the seed of this
thought among the men. Next, calling the pilots in, he cajoled, bribed, and maneuvered
them into agreeing to disable the ships, and issue a report that they were no longer
seaworthy. Juan de Escalante was sent to Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz to remove sails,
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anchors, cables and other useful pieces of equipment. They kept the ships' boats and
nets to be used by the older seamen for fishing to supply themselves and the army. The
remaining seamen were "volunteered" for the army. Later on, some of them actually
turned out to be excellent soldiers.
When news of the disabling of the first five vessels reached the troops they were
greatly concerned. They understood how seaworms could destroy a ship, but what if
they needed to escape? How would they get back to Cuba? When the news of the
disabling of the remaining ships arrived, suspicions arose about the unusual timing of
the "seaworms". Cortes explained the importance of his actions to the men. He told
them how he, as owner of the ships, was actually the most affected by the situation.
He raised the challenge of moving on into the interior indicating his resolve to stay –
even if it were with only one man -- to bring back the spoils of conquest. As for those
who wished to abandon their leader and their companions in favor of returning to Cuba,
they would certainly be viewed as deserters and cowards,by all. Nevertheless, they
were welcome to do so as there was still one ship left to take back anyone who might
sink so low.. They would certainly look foolish, he added, when their companions
returned with the treasures of the Aztecs. The men became excited about the
opportunity ahead of them and voted to stay. Having won the day, Cortes then disabled
the remaining ship.
By disabling his ships, Cortes crossed his Rubicon. There was no place left to go but into
the interior, to the land of Motecuzoma. He was caught between Motecuzoma and
Velasquez. In time, he would have to face both. The odds against him were awesome.
Motecuzoma had almost inexhaustible manpower resources to launch against him, and
Velasquez could land a new expeditionary force against his rearguard at any time. On
the other hand, having taken the initiative against both of these men, where else could he
go? He could not return to Cuba. Ruin and probable imprisonment awaited him there.
He couldn‘t It stay at Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz. The longer Motecuzoma retained his
power, the more likely Cortes' forces and his leverage would decrease. All that was left
was to go forward. The only thing he could lose was his life and the lives of his men. On
they other hand, their lives were forfeit already if he did nothing.
Cortes was ready to leave Cempoala when word came from Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz
that three Spanish ships had been sighted off the coast. It was determined that these
belonged to Francisco de Garay, governor of Jamaica. Leaving Pedro de Alvarado in
charge of the army at Cempoala, Cortes rode swiftly with four horsemen to Villa Rica de
la Vera Cruz. He also chose fifty of the fastest foot soldiers to meet him there. At Villa
Rica he discovered that Garay‘s ships had already put some men ashore; Cortes went
forward to meet with them. Along the road he met four of Garay's men. Apparently,
Garay had chosen to remain in Jamaica, and let his captains do the exploring for him.
When Garay heard of the twenty thousand pesos of gold brought back by the Grijalva
expedition, the good governor of Jamaica could no longer resist ―the godly command to
go forth and spread the Christian faith among the heathen.‖ Garay was on good terms
with the well-remembered Bishop de Fonseca who dogged Columbus' footsteps in his
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wanderings through the New World. This relationship paid off in the form of an
authorization as Adelantado to explore all lands north of a certain point. Captain Alvarez
Pineda had been sent with three ships, two hundred and seventy soldiers, horses, and
supplies to accomplish ―great deeds‖ in the name of the absentee Adelantado.
Garay‘s expedition posed a threat, but Cortes already was working at turning it into an
opportunity. Right away he had three of his men change clothes with the new arrivals.
He hoped to lure the ship's boat ashore, and use it to gain control of the ship.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the ruse failed, and the ship departed. If Cortes
had managed to lure the ship‘s boat ashore, he would still have had to overcome the
boat‘s crew and then somehow overcome the crew of Garay‘s ship. On the other had,
given his talent for beating the odds – he might have pulled it off.
Apparently, the colonization effort by Garay's men had been aimed at a site much farther
north called Rio Panuco. Cortes might have been daring but he was also cautious;
thereafter he made it a point to establish especially close relationships with the caciques
of that specific area.
In his own eyes, Cortes‘ rearguard was now doubly threatened. The situation demanded
his usual brand of quick, decisive action. He responded by marching into the interior to
force a meeting with Motecuzoma. In preparation for the march inland, Cortes left Juan
de Escalante in charge of the garrison at Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz. Escalante's job was
to maintain a presence as a reminder of Spanish power in the province of the Totonacs,
and to defend Cortes' rearguard from additional incursions by other Spaniards.
On August 16th, 1519, Cortes set out from Cempoala with four hundred footsoldiers,
fifteen horses, seven canons, thirteen hundred Totonac warriors and one thousand
Tlamemes or porters. As a special precaution to ensure Totonac loyalty during his
absence, he took with him forty prominent Cempoalans as ―allies‖ (hostages).
On the first day of the journey the army made its way through the lush tropical vegetation
in the midst of the downpours characteristic of that time of the year in this region. On
that same day, a foal was lost, possibly that of Juan Sedeño‘s mare. Apparently, the foal
ran away and was adopted by a herd of deer. Eighteen months later, it was recaptured
by the Spaniards and trained to serve as a war horse.
On the second day, after climbing the slopes of the mountain range that would soon lead
to Tenochtitlan, the army arrived at Xalapa. From there, the Spaniards and their native
allies continued upward often passing through small towns friendly to the Totonacs.
Continuing its upward march, the army soon passed through highlands that were wild
and dreary. There, the men were lashed by strong, cold winds, rain, and sleet that chilled
them to the bone. It also caused the death of some of the natives. Creatures of the
warm tropical climate of the lowlands, they were unused to such harsh weather.
After passing through the desolate volcanic heights of that region, the army came to an
area of beautifully cultivated flatlands at an altitude of more than seven thousand feet
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above sea level. Corn fields surrounded by cactus and flower hedges spread as far as
the eye could see. The army arrived at a populous and prosperous-looking town called
Xocotlan or Tlatlanquitepec. The white, fiat-topped masonry houses reminded some of
the Portuguese soldiers of a town in their homeland called Castilblanco, and so they gave
it that name. There were thirteen Teocallis or temples in the city, and at one location,
carefully stacked and ranged, were a hundred thousand human skulls.
The cacique, Olintetl, received the Spaniards with great hospitality. He had many of
them carried in litters, and fed and lodged them. He also sacrificed fifty victims in their
honor. A shrewd and pompous man, Olintetl was even fatter than the fat cacique of
Cempoala. When he was carried in his litter, his obesity shook so much that the
Spaniards referred to him as ―The Shaker.‖ Olintetl had thirty wives, a hundred women to
wait on him, two thousand retainers as bodyguards for himself and his household, and
twenty thousand warriors at his command. (Tlatlanquitepec must have been a very
prosperous region to support Olintetl in this lifestyle.) The Aztecs maintained a strong
garrison of some 5,000 men in the city, which was a tributary of Motecuzoma‘s empire.
The cacique, probably following Motecuzoma‘s orders, treated Cortes and his men well,
but not warmly. He also endeavored to impress the Spaniards with the power and might
of his sovereign. When Cortes inquired if Olintetl was a subject of Motecuzoma, the
cacique responded with surprise, "Who is there that is not a vassal to Motecuzoma?"
Cortes took advantage of this opening to talk about his own emperor, and went on to
describe his power, and also convey his message of faith. This was followed by some
theology and recommendations that Olintetl and his people give up their idolatry, human
sacrifices, the eating of human flesh, and their sodomite practices. These
recommendations did not seem to make much sense to the natives. After all, who were
these white strangers that they should ask them to abandon the customs and traditions of
their forefathers? It was obvious to Cortes that he was not making much headway in his
efforts to impress and sway Olintetl and his people. He decided instead to ask the
cacique to tell him about Motecuzoma and his empire. Olintetl had been waiting for just
such an opportunity. He began to ―pour it on thick‖ hoping to impress Cortes and his men,
and perhaps scare them off.
The Lord Motecuzoma, he said, had hundreds of thousands of warriors at his command
across his empire which spread to lands in all directions. He could summon thirty
vassals who each commanded a hundred thousand men. His armies were continually in
the field, and his troops garrisoned major cities throughout all the provinces. So mighty
was the Lord Motecuzoma that he sacrificed over twenty thousand men a year to his
gods. His central city of Tenochtitlan was a mighty fortress where houses were built on a
lake, and canoes were necessary to get from one part of the city to another. The only
way to acccess the city was by three causeways. The causeways were easily defended
by bridges that could be raised at will. In short, the capital was impregnable, and
Motecuzoma would probably not be pleased with the arrival of uninvited guests.
The Spaniards were indeed impressed, but not as Olintetl had hoped. If anything, they
were more eager than ever to visit Motecuzoma‘s capital and see all its wonders. After
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listening carefully to OIintetl‘s description of Motecuzoma‘s power and might, Cortes felt
this might be a good time to bring up the subject of gold. He asked the cacique if he had
any, and if he would be willing to give the Spaniards some so they could compare it with
that of their homeland. Olintetl shrewdly replied that certainly he had gold but would not
give it to the Spaniards because this might displease Motecuzoma. If, however, the
emperor should command it, he said, his gold, his person, and all he possessed, would
be at the Spaniards' disposal. Outmaneuvered, Cortes decided to drop the subject.
Olintetl and his people were curious about many of the things the Spaniards had brought
with them. A large hunting dog belonging to Francisco de Lugo had barked all night.
The Xocotlans asked the Cempoalans if it was a lion or tiger the Spaniards had brought
to eat natives. It was the Cempoalans' turn to have some fun at the expense of the
locals. They told them that the Spaniards took the dog with them to kill anyone who
might annoy them. The Cempoalans then went on to describe the power of the
Spaniards' cannon, their horses, and the episode with Motecuzoma‘s tax collectors.
At the request of his hosts, Cortes agreed to a display of cannon and cavalry. Olintetl
was duly impressed, and concluded that these strangers must indeed be Teules. As a
result, he changed his position on gold and sent a few gifts to Cortes as well as additional
food and supplies. Cortes accepted the gifts and donations graciously, and then asked
Olintetl for directions to Motecuzoma‘s capital. Olintetl recommended a route that would
take the Spaniards through a large town named Cholula. Cortes had learned to trust the
Cempoalans. They warned him against going to Cholula. The Cholulans, they said,
were treacherous and, in addition, Motecuzoma kept a large garrison in that town. Go
instead, they recommended, to Tlaxcala, an independent republic whose people were
frank, open friends of the Cempoalans, fierce warriors, and enemies of Motecuzoma who
would make good allies.
One wonders how any country so close to the heart of the Aztec Empire could remain
independent. Motecuzoma is reputed to have stated that Tlaxcala could easily have
been conquered, but then his young warriors would have to travel a long way to get
combat experience. Besides, he said, Tlaxcala served as a good source of sacrificial
victims.
Cortes opted to go to Tlaxcala instead of Cholula. To cover his rearguard, he asked of
and received from Olintetl twenty warrior chiefs (hostages) to accompany him on the
journey to the capital. By now, Cortes had learned a few things about the diplomatic
traditions of the area. He chose to send four Cempoalan ambassadors to Tlaxcala to
prepare the way for his visit. There were certain conventions observed among the
peoples of ancient Mexico regarding ambassadors. They dressed with thin cotton wraps
slanting round the body, covering the navel and tied at the back with two knots. They
wore another, thicker cotton wrap, rolled up and tied over the chest and shoulders. In
their right hand they carried an arrow holding the point between their fingers. In the left
hand they carried a small shield, and a bag with their food.
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Arriving in Taxcala, the Cempoalans were recognized as ambassadors and treated as
such. Given lodging and food, they proceeded to the community house where they
arrived carrying bouquets of roses in their left hands, which no longer carried the shield
and bag. There, they met with the four Tiatoani or revered speakers of the four provinces
that made up the Tlaxcalan federation. The Cempoalan ambassadors described the
white men who had come from across the seas and had helped the Cempoalans throw
off the yoke of Aztec domination. They told how the strangers were on their way to
Motecuzoma‘s capital, and wished to pass through Tlaxcalan territory and make friends
with them. The Tiaxcalan council listened in silence to the message, and then asked the
ambassadors to retire while they discussed their message.
One of the Tiatoanis was in favor of welcoming the strangers and granting them passage.
Another, the eldest, felt that such men were most likely monsters cast forth from the sea,
and no good could come of granting them anything. Yet another came up with a solution
which was embraced by all. Return the ambassadors with words of welcome, but also
put in the Spaniards' way an allied tribe, the Othomis, to test their mettle in battle. If the
Othomis won, the problem was solved. If they lost, they could be blamed as
―uncontrollable barbarians.‖
Cortes awaited the return of the ambassadors for five days, after which he left the town of
Zautla and its wily leader, Olintetl. The army moved to another town two leagues distant,
Ixtacamaxtitlan, where it rested for two days still waiting for the ambassadors. Advancing
from this town, accompanied by six horsemen, Cortes rode about a mile ahead of the
army. He was the first to come to the entrance to a valley, which was blocked off by a
stone wall. The fortification was nine feet tall, twenty feet deep, and had a parapet
eighteen inches wide around the summit for the defenders to fight from. The wall was
made of huge stones and lime, and held together with such strength that pickaxes could
barely penetrate it.
Beyond the wall lay the land of the Tlaxcalans. There was an opening in the middle
where the walls overlapped and created a passage about forty yards long and ten yards
wide between them. Curiously, the wall was unmanned. Cortes rode alongside the wall
for about two miles exploring it while the army studied the fortification with amazement.
After some doubt about whether to advance or to try going to Cholula instead, Cortes
resolved to stick with his original plan. He led the army through the wall into the land of
Tlaxcala.
Two of the Cempoalan ambassadors, who had been delayed under the pretext of
attending a religious ceremony but were actually kept as prisoners, finally arrived. It
seems the Tlaxcalans had not believed them, and suspected the Cempoalans were really
participating in a ruse of Motecuzoma‘s to penetrate the Tlaxcalan territory. The
ambassadors warned Cortes about the warlike attitude of the Tlaxcalans.
Cortes decided to advance despite the warnings.
As he rode with the advance party of the army, Cortes came to a pine forest where the
road was crisscrossed by strings with papers attached. The strings and papers were
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enchantments placed there by Tiaxcalan sorcerers to stop the Spaniards. Unaware of
the supposed power of the sorcerers‘ spells, Cortes and his men rode through them in
blissful ignorance. Shortly after, as the lead riders approached the top of a hill, they saw
fifteen native warriors ahead of them.
Lares, former assistant to Velasquez, rode ahead and killed two of the warriors; the rest
took off either in fear or to warn the main body of their army. Cortes and his six
horsemen spurred their mounts forward, and caught up with the fleeing natives who then
turned and presented fierce battle. The Tlaxcalans fought with such courage and skill
that they killed two horses and wounded three others, plus two of the riders. Wielding
their Maquahuime, two handed obsidian-edged swords, the Tlaxcalans cut through reins
and horses' necks with one strong blow.
The Spaniards had killed five of the natives when out of hiding came three thousand
Tlaxcalans who had been lying in ambush.and showered them with arrows. Cortes had
sent back for the infantry and cavalry to catch up with the advance party as quickly as
possible. They arrived just in time to extricate the small band from the ambush. The
Tlaxcalans did not panic, but fought well and retreated from the field in good battle order
leaving only seventeen dead behind them. That night, as the Spaniards camped,
because they had no oil to pour on their wounds, they dressed them with melted fat
carved from the body of an obese native killed in that day's battle.
After the battle, several local caciques came to express their regrets at what had
happened. As planned, they attributed the hostility to independent action on the part of
undisciplined tribes. With them arrived the remaining two ambassadors who told- of their
imprisonment by the Tlaxcalans; they reported a large force of Tlaxcalans awaiting the
Spaniards a short distance away. Shortly afterwards, the army came upon a large
number of natives, perhaps a thousand, armed and ready for combat. Cortes did not
want to fight. He called his interpreters and asked them to tell the Tlaxcalans that he and
his men came in peace. He sent forward three prisoners from the previous day's combat
to tell the same story. Mindful of the legalities to be observed, he had the royal notary,
Diego de Godoy, record his statements.
Cortes‘ message went unheeded. The Tlaxcalans attacked with stunning fury. Showers
of darts, arrows, and stones rained upon the Spaniards causing many injuries. Emitting a
shrill whistle accompanied by the melancholy beat of their war drums, the native warriors
advanced nearly engulfing the Spaniards. Cortes shouted "Santiago, y a ellos!‖
(Santiago, and at them!) The Spanish army attacked with all its might killing many of the
native leaders in the first onslaught. The enemy began to pull back toward a series of
ravines. There, over four thousand warriors lay in ambush. While in the ravine the
Spaniards were at a disadvantage but managed to gain level ground through hard
swordplay. Once in the open, the Spaniards were able to use their artillery and musketry
with greater effectiveness causing great damage among the natives.
The Tlaxcalans kept trying to break the Spanish formation and also capture horses.
Cortes had instructed his men not to break formation, but three of the horsemen with
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Pedro de Moron at their head charged into the enemy ranks. The natives quickly
surrounded them and grabbed Moron's lance which he was then unable to retrieve. With
their Maqhuime broadswords, the natives slashed Moron's mare's neck severing her
head. The Tlaxcalans were dragging Moron off when the entire Spanish force moved in
that direction. Moron was rescued, but ten Spaniards were injured. In the process, four
of the enemy captains were also killed.
The battle had gone on for a full hour when the Tlaxcalans began to withdraw taking their
fallen captains with them. They also took the mare's body as a trophy. With only an hour
left until sundown, Cortes decided to move his army to a nearby hilltop where the men
could care for the wounded and enjoy some rest. As luck would have it, they also found
a good supply of food in a nearby village.
The next day was one of much needed rest for the battle-weary Spaniards. Cortes,
however, was uneasy about his men's predicament in the midst of hostile country without
supplies or reserves. Rather than wait for the Tlaxcalans to make their next move, he
sent two of the captured chiefs as ambassadors to negotiate a truce and announce his
intention to visit their capital. He mustered a light cavalry force and rode at its head into
the surrounding countryside on a foraging trip. There was an abundance of small towns
in the area with plentiful supplies. Some of the inhabitants put up a fierce resistance and
were put to the sword. By the end of his foray, Cortes returned laden with supplies and
captives. Mindful of their diplomatic value, he treated the captives well.
The ambassadors were waiting for him at the camp; their news was not good. A short
distance away, they had run into one of the Tlaxcalan leaders, Xicotenatl, who headed up
an army of some fifty thousand warriors. After hearing Cortes' message, Xicotenatl
replied that the Spaniards were welcome to come to Tlaxcala where they would be
sacrificed to the gods, and their flesh eaten by his warriors. Or, if they preferred, they
could remain in their camp where Xicotenatl and his army would come and get them.
The Spaniards were not prepared for such bravado on the part of their enemy, and
feared for their lives. That night, Fray Olmedo heard the confessions of men who knew
they would soon go into battle and wanted to settle their accounts with the almighty
before facing death. Concerned that his men might lose their nerve by waiting for the
enemy‘s attack, Cortes decided to take the initiative away from Xicotenatl by marching
his army into the field. He spoke words of encouragement to the men, and gave them
their instructions for the ensuing battle. The infantry were to use the points of their
swords rather than the edges, thrusting rather than attempting to swing in the midst of the
tight enemy ranks. The cavalry would ride at half speed with lances held at the enemy's
eye level. The crossbowmen, arquebusiers and artillery, were to fire in sequence
supporting one another while loading between volleys. The prime directive for all
Spaniards that day would be to maintain closed ranks in the face of the enemy's
overwhelming numbers.
After marching about a mile and half from their camp, the Spaniards came upon an
awesome spectacle. There, on a vast plain, stood an endless sea of war-painted brown
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bodies, glistening spear tips, gilded and plumed helmets, and battle banners strapped to
the backs of the standard bearers who stood at the rear of the huge host. The ranks of
the Tlaxcalans identified themselves with feather banners carrying the heraldic symbols
of their chieftains. Common soldiers wore only loincloths and painted themselves with
the colors of their leaders' banners. The higher ranks wore two-inch thick quilted cotton
tunics designed to soften the impact of stones, arrows and clubs. Some wore ornamental
cuirases of thin gold or silver plate over their tunics. Over the tunic, a featherwork cloak
with embroidered designs added a bright display of color. Warrior knights wore
headdresses of wood and leather representing fierce-looking animal heads, through
whose sharp toothed jaws the wearer‘s face appeared. Gold-trimmed leather boots or
sandals protected their legs. These warriors also carried shields made of leathercovered wood, or reed frames quilted with cotton and adorned with feathered designs.
The sight of this moving, shouting, multicolored living landscape advancing towards them
could only have struck fear into the heart of the Spaniards. The bright panoply alone
might have been enough to overwhelm their senses, but added to its effect were the
thousands of weapons of every kind in the hands of skilled, brave warriors. Among the
most dreaded by the Spaniards were the sharp javelins, sometimes thrown with the
assistance of an Atl (a curved spear-throwing device); and others employing a long
leather thong attached to the throwers hand which enabled the warrior to retrieve the
spear and relaunch it. Native archers could launch two and three arrows at a time
creating massive volleys of raining death upon the Spaniards who suffered many wounds
from this source. Then there were the two-handed obsidian tipped swords, about three
and a half feet long, which the native warriors wielded with such strength as to sever the
head of a horse with a single blow. Finally, the Tlaxcalans also used thousands of slings
capable of laying down a steady hailstorm of hard-hitting stones.
As the Spaniards came within sight of the Tlaxcalan army there arose a mighty shout of
threat mixed with the sounds of horns, shells, drums, and stomping feet. Suddenly, a
cloud of arrows and stones darkened the morning sun; the Spaniards immediately began
to suffer injuries. Undaunted, Cortes steadily moved his small band through the
downpour until they came within firing distance of the enemy ranks. Lining up his troops
and weapons for maximum effect, Cortes gave the order to fire. Methodically, welldirected fire from cannon, firing pieces, and crossbows mowed down rank after rank of
natives before they could reform or even move the wounded out of the way. The shock
and frustration generated by the devastation welled up inside the breasts of the brave
Tiaxcalan warriors until it broke through with a deafening shriek of anger.
In a frenzy of pent up hatred and anguish, the Tlaxcalan masses surged forward again in
an overwhelming avalanche of fighting fury. Nothing could resist the great a thrust of so
many brave men defending their land and their homes from a hated foreign threat. The
Spanish ranks were swamped in an instant, and fell back in disorder despite the best
efforts of Cortes to rally them. The outcome of the battle teetered in the balance, as the
Spaniards struggled to set up some sort of organized resistance to the waves of native
combatants.
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The Spanish soldiers may have been short of stature, but certainly did not lack amazing
courage. In their desperation, they began to fight with extraordinary courage and
discipline. Wielding their Toledan steel swords with unnatural strength born of fear and
despair, the Spanish infantrymen carved a breathing space for themselves in the midst of
the Tlaxcalan advance. From a distance, the Spanish heavy guns continued to pound
the tightly milling ranks of the Tlaxcalan troops sowing disorder in their lines. The huge
Tlaxcalan numbers turned into a major disadvantage as confusion grew in their midst.
Sensing an opportunity, Cortes led a cavalry charge that broke the thrust of the
advancing throng throwing the Tlaxcalan warriors back upon their own ranks and creating
even greater confusion among them.
The brave Tlaxcalans rallied time and again, but each time with less energy and spirit.
Their numbers served them less and less as they could only bring to bear a small portion
of their force against the tightly knit Spanish ranks. Even their occasional successes
turned unsuccessful, as they could not organize to exploit them, repeatedly losing the
initiative through their lack of organization. Nevertheless, the small band of Spaniards
was tiring, and the Tlaxcalans might still have overwhelmed them had not dissension
risen within their own ranks. In the heat and frustration of the battle, XicotenatI berated
one of his chieftains for cowardice in the face of the enemy. The offended chieftain
challenged Xicotenatl to single-handed combat. For some unknown reason, the duel did
not take place. The angry chieftain withdrew his force of some ten thousand men from
the battlefield, and persuaded another chieftain to do likewise. After four hours of hard
combat, Xicotenatl‘s forces were reduced to near half their original size by these
desertions and by casualties; wisely, he chose to withdraw from the field leaving the
Spaniards as stunned but grateful victors.
Even in their victory, the Spaniards retained a healthy respect and admiration for their
foe. Singly, the Tlaxcalans had fought with courage and bravery equal to or greater than
that of each Spanish soldier. Had they possessed equal weaponry and military
sophistication, the outcome would have been different. The Spaniards knew this only too
well. Cortes withdrew his men to a nearby hilltop to set up a defensive position and
recover from the effects of the battle. Aware of the value of myth in the minds of his
opponents, Cortes made efforts to create the impression of Spanish invincibility and
superhuman power by secretly burying the few Spaniards killed in combat. Although
triumphant, the Spaniards were reminded of their human frailty by the fact that they
lacked adequate means to treat their wounds, and to shelter themselves from the chilly
weather of the Anahuac highlands.
Cortes sensed that the timing, coming on the heels of a disastrous defeat for the
Tlaxcalans, might be just right for a peace proposal. Accordingly, he dispatched a new
mission to the Tlaxcalan capital offering not only peace, but also friendship and alliance.
He underestimated the power of the war party in the Tlaxcalan senate. Rankled by his
defeat, Xicotenatl wanted another opportunity to face the Spaniards in combat and
redeem his pride. Maxixcatzin, one of the four leaders who governed the republic,
favored peace and alliance with the strangers. He could see no reason why the
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Tlaxcalan forces would be any more successful in a new attempt to match the Spaniards'
war prowess.
As was so often the case among native American cultures, priests were brought in to
help solve the dispute. Asked if the foreigners were supernatural beings, the priests
cunningly hedged their bets by stating they were not gods but children of the Sun. As a
result, they derived their apparently supernatural powers from the Sun's rays. Therefore,
they concluded, a night attack upon the Spaniards would find them at their weakest, and
would have a greater probability of success. Supported by the priests and Xicotenatl,
who were probably allied to begin with, this view prevailed. It was agreed that a tenthousand man night attack would be carried out against the Spanish camp.
All throughout the period of the conquest, Spanish troops slept with their arms at their
sides; this night was no exception. Cortes made the rounds personally checking that
outposts were properly manned and alert. It would be difficult to hide ten thousand men
under any circumstances, but under the autumn moon it was impossible. The alert
Spanish sentries spotted the Tlaxcalan warriors as they advanced in the darkness. The
alert was quietly spread throughout the camp. Within minutes the Spaniards were armed
and ready to withstand the native assault. To the approaching Tlaxcalans, the Spanish
camp seemed to be sleepily unprepared. Cortes again decided to take the initiative from
the Tlaxcalans by launching a surprise sally against their ranks. He let the enemy
advance through the surrounding cornfields until their front ranks began to climb the
lower part of the slope leading to the Spanish camp.
With a blood curdling war cry, "Santiago! A ellos!" (Saint James! At them!), the whole
Spanish force, cavalry and all, sprang out of the darkness like so many howling banshees
spreading terror and death. The effect was shattering. After unleashing a weak volley of
arrows, the unnerved Tlaxcalans fled across the fields where the Spanish cavalry cut
them down. Unwilling to continue the meaningless slaughter, Cortes called his men off
and returned to camp. Behind them the fields were covered with the bloody aftermath of
that night's labor.
Again, Cortes took advantage of the victory to offer peace terms. Another mission was
sent to the Tlaxcalan capital with a message of peace. This time, however, a threat was
included. If the Tlaxcalans chose not to opt for peace, Cortes would destroy their capital
and put their people to the sword. The Tlaxcalans agreed to the terms and chose four
caciques to represent them in a mission to the Spanish camp. The ambassadors were
told to also visit Xicotenatl and instruct him to cease hostilities. The haughty Xicotenatl
would have none of it. He convinced the ambassadors to stay with him and forego their
visit to the Spanish camp.
Unaware of these events, Cortes had decided to keep the initiative by raiding the
countryside with his cavalry. Although ill and burning with fever (probably malaria),
Cortes personally led the raiding party in an exhausting ride across the chilly highlands.
In the process, he and the others wore out four horses that had to be sent back to camp.
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With the assistance of native allied troops, the Spaniards burnt ten towns and returned to
camp loaded with supplies and the spoils of their raids.
Upon returning, Cortes was greeted with the reappearance of dissent among his troops.
The men were tired and dispirited despite their impressive victories over what at the time
of each battle had seemed like overwhelming odds. More than fifty of the men had died
from combat wounds or disease, and most of them had been wounded more than once.
Once the immediate threat of battle had subsided, they‘d had time to think about their
situation, and wonder how long they could go on beating the odds. The journey to
Motecuzoma‘s capital had become an inside joke among the troops when referring to
things that would probably never happen. (I imagine it was their version of "It‘ll be a cold
day in hell."
With fatigue and rest, homesickness began to set in, and the Velasquez faction again
raised the issue of returning to Cuba. After Cortes' vigorous response to earlier attempts
at insubordination, the subject was broached with caution -- but frankly. If the Tlaxcalans
were a lesser nation than the Aztecs, and had put up such a powerful defense, what
could they expect when they finally came up against the powerful armies of
Motecuzoma? They were exhausted from labors far more demanding than those
imposed upon beasts of burden. The beasts at least got to sleep through the whole
night, whereas they never could. Would it not be more prudent, they inquired, to return to
Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz where they could send the remaining ship to Cuba to bring
back relief and supplies?
Cortes listened carefully and, knowing his men, answered gently but also with great
frankness. It was true that they had suffered greatly. Few men in the annals of history,
from the time of the Romans to their day, had suffered as much. Few men had covered
themselves with as much glory. Even during the darkest moments in the middle of the
very uneven combats, he had been filled with pride and admiration at the courage of the
small but brave band of men. Only Spaniards could have won against such impossible
odds. No men of any other nation could have equaled their prowess. That they had
been triumphant was due to their valor and the protection of the Almighty. They could
probably expect that same protection as long as they were doing God's work in bringing
Christianity to these barbarian nations.
No one could deny that Cortes had shared his men‘s sufferings and tribulations in equal
proportion. He had not promised them easy conquests, but having faced great
hardships, they were now enjoying the fruits of their victories in the abundance of
supplies that were now available in the camp. The Tlaxcalans would soon sue for peace.
If the Spaniards chose this moment to turn back it would send a clear signal to all around
them that they had given up. Then, the Tlaxcalans would not only not give up, but would
pursue them relentlessly as would all the other native nations including their allies, the
Cempoalans, who would do so out of fear of facing Motecuzoma‘s wrath by themselves.
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Some of the men were not convinced by Cortes‘ words, and felt emboldened enough to
charge him with leading them to Mexico to be slaughtered. Finally, out of patience,
Cortes silenced the dissenters by saying it was better to die with honor than to live in
disgrace. The majority echoed that sentiment and silenced the dissenters - for the time
being.
The Spaniards were surprised the following day by the arrival of a delegation of
Tlaxcalans bearing white badges of peace. They came from Xicotenatl with offerings -and a message regarding their use. Four older women were sent as victims. If the
Spaniards were savage Teules and wished to eat their flesh and hearts, the old women
were there to be sacrificed for that purpose.
If they were less violent Teules, copal resin and parrot feathers were available for an
appropriate sacrifice. If they were men -- hens, bread and fruit were sent for them to eat.
Cortes responded with kind words, indicating that he and his men had wanted peace all
along. He further explained that the Spaniards were not Teules of any kind, but simply
men and did not require sacrifices. He congratulated the Tlaxcalans on finally seeing the
error of their warlike ways and encouraged them to seek peace. Cortes welcomed the
Tlaxcalans to the camp and offered them such hospitalities as were available. For the
following day and night, the Tlaxcalans stayed in the camp while several of them traveled
back and forth to Xicotenatl‘s headquarters.
The overall tone of the mission and its activities were unconvincing, and raised the
suspicions of doña Marina that its real purpose was to spy on the Spaniards. She
communicated this to Cortes, who then had several of the Tlaxcalans interrogated.
Under separate questioning, four of the Tlaxcalans confessed the true nature of their
mission; they were to report back to Xicotenatl who would mount an attack on the
Spanish camp that very right. Cortes decided to set an example that would convey a
clear message to Xicotenatl. He ordered the thumbs cut off of some of the Tlaxcalan
spies and the hands of others. He sent the fifty or so mutilated Tlaxcalans back to
Xicotenatl with a message. The Spaniards were ready for him at any time day or night
and, if he didn't come within the next two days, they would go looking for him.
Xicotenatl was already marching on the Spanish camp when the mutilated spies arrived.
Their sorry appearance caused much consternation among the Tlaxcalan warriors who
no longer wanted to continue fighting an enemy who could read their minds, and know
their intentions before they could carry them out. Cortes had won. Unlike his opponents,
who took the hearts out of their enemies after defeating them, Cortes, with his
psychological warfare, took the Tlaxcalans' hearts out before they could come to battle
again. Xicotenatl released the four Tlaxcalan ambassadors and quickly sent them to the
Spanish camp. Accompanied by a large retinue, he followed shortly after.
While Cortes had been busy fighting the brave Tlaxcalans, Motecuzoma had watched the
events with keen interest. If the Tlaxcalans defeated the Spaniards, the problem would
take care of itself. But, if the Spaniards defeated the Tlaxcalans and, even worse, turned
them into allies, what then? Uncertain and insecure, Motecuzoma sought the counsel of
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Cacama, ruler of Texcoco, and Cuitlahuac, ruler of Itapalapan. Cacama felt the
Spaniards should be welcomed to Tenochtitlan. There, at the heart of his empire,
Motecuzoma would have the strength and the resources to deal with the Spaniards if
they overstepped their bounds.
Cuitlahuac suggested sending another embassy to Cortes with many rich presents
advising him not to advance to Mexico because it would be difficult for Motecuzoma to
provide him with protection in the midst of the unruly citizens of the capital. The latter
counsel held greater appeal for the pusillanimous Motecuzoma. He sent a delegation of
six proud ambassadors with two hundred retainers to the Spanish camp. Bearing gifts of
gold weighing about three thousand ounces, and many mantles of embroidered cotton
and featherwork, the ambassadors conveyed Motecuzoma‘s message to Cortes.
This was an obviously mistaken tactic and was compounded by an even worse one. The
ambassadors sensed that Motecuzoma‘s advice to not come to Tenochtitlan had little
effect. As aresult, they intimated to Cortes that if he stayed away from the capital,
Motecuzoma might be willing to pay annual tribute to the Spanish monarch in the form of
gold, pearls, silver, precious stones, slaves and other valuables. The offer produced the
exact opposite of its intended effect. Instead of discouraging Cortes from visiting the
Aztec capital, the lure of so much wealth made him all the more eager to reach its
source.
Cortes acknowledged the gifts and Motecuzoma‘s sentiments, but reiterated his intention
to deliver his sovereign‘s message personally to the Aztec emperor. Two of the Aztec
ambassadors returned to report to Motecuzoma. Cortes asked the rest to stay for a few
days so that they might report the outcome of his struggle with the Tlaxcalans. Confident
of the outcome, Cortes wanted them on hand to witness his victory over the Tlaxcalans.
During their stay, Xicotenatl attacked with three squadrons but was handily defeated.
The ambassadors watched the entire battle from the tower of a Teocalli at the top of
Mount Tzompach where the Spaniards had established their camp. They were duly
impressed.
.When a Tlxcalan peace delegation finally approached the camp, the Spaniards were
overjoyed at the evidence of their triumph. Cortes had to remind his men of the need for
composure in the presence of the natives. Xicotenatl himself was the main attraction for
the Spaniards. Tall and heavily muscled, the Tlaxcalan leader was all that a great
military leader was expected to be. Only thirty-five at the time, Xicotenatl‘s proud face
was deeply lined from hard effort. His demeanor was more that of a conqueror than a
defeated general. Coming before Cortes, Xicotenatl touched the ground with his hand
then raised it to his head in a gesture of respect. He came in the name of his people to
submit to the Spaniards who would find them the same quality of allies, as they had been
enemies: firm and faithful. Xicotenatl did not attempt to place the blame for the war on
others. He had viewed the Spaniards as allies of Motecuzoma and the Mexicas, against
whom he and his people had struggled so hard to preserve their freedom. Courage
elicits universal admiration and respect among opponents. Cortes recognized the quality
of this former enemy and, although he rebuked him for his past transgressions against
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the Spaniards, he treated Xicotenatl courteously. The Tlaxcalan leader presented some
offerings of gold and feather embroidery of small value, explaining that they were a poor
nation; Motecuzoma had left them little more than their freedom and their weapons.
Cortes chose not to leave immediately for the Tlaxcalan capital, but waited at his camp
for the two Aztec ambassadors to return. He began to play the two enemies against one
another, keeping the Tlaxcalan rulers awaiting his visit and the Aztecs awaiting his
decision. The Aztec ambassadors arrived again bearing rich presents of gold, jewels and
robes as well as a warning from Motecuzoma not to trust the Tlaxcalans. At this time, the
Tlaxcalan rulers arrived to personally invite Cortes to their capital. Cortes asked the
Aztecs to wait three days while he hammered out the details of a peace treaty with the
Tlaxcalans, after which he would give them his message for Motecuzoma. The leaders
of the Tlaxcalans urged Cortes to come to their city. They also apologized for their earlier
hostility, which they attributed to misunderstanding his relationship with their Aztec
enemies. They also asked him not to believe such lies as the Aztecs must be telling him.
Cortes explained that he had not left for their capital because of his inability to move his
guns. The Tlaxcalans quickly put five hundred Tlamemes (porters) at his disposal. The
following day, Cortes and his men left camp and set out toward Tlaxcala, carrying the
Aztec ambassadors with them. Cortes' wry sense of humor could not have missed the
irony of the situation of the Aztec ambassadors who were now going into the heart of
their enemies' kingdom under the protection of the Spaniards.
On September 23, 1519, the Spaniards entered Tlaxcala where they were received by a
procession of notables. The entire city turned out to welcome them with flowers and
songs of rejoicing. Reaching the heart of the city, they were led to the mansion of
Xicotenatl the Elder, the father of the mighty warrior, and one of the nation's four leaders.
There, in a scene reminiscent of biblical passages, Cortes dismounted from his horse
and embraced the old man who, nearly blind, read the conqueror's features with his
hands. After a sumptuous dinner in a great hall, the Spaniards were led to their quarters.
Cortes requested that the Aztec ambassadors be lodged close by so he could keep an
eye on them. The Spaniards were much impressed by the city, which compared in size
with Granada. The houses were made of limestone, sun dried bricks and adobe.
Flowers grew everywhere, and the city offered such amenities as barbershops, and baths
with steam and hot water.
The marketplace was huge and would accommodate as many as thirty thousand people
on market day, which was held on every fifth day. On these days, people from all the
surrounding areas would come to offer their wares, which included pottery of a quality
considered by the Spaniards equal to the best of Europe. Order throughout the city was
kept by a vigilant and effective police force. When Cortes complained about one of the
natives who stole some gold from his belongings, the police quickly found the culprit and
turned him over to the Spaniards for punishment. Cort'es prudently declined the honor in
favor of the local authorities who paraded the man through the town preceded by a crier
informing all of his crime. He was then taken to the public square and executed.
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Charmed as he may have been with his hosts' hospitality and good will, Cortes did not let
his guard down for a minute. He gave his men instructions to maintain normal security
precautions. The Tlaxcalans noticed this, and complained to Cortes about distrust
offering themselves and their families as hostages if necessary. Cortes replied that he
was convinced of their good will and hostages would not be necessary; he explained that
maintaining security was a Spanish custom and they should not be offended by it.
Desiring to further cementing their relationship with the Spaniards, Xicotenatl the Elder
and Maxixcatzin offered their daughters in marriage to Cortes and his captains. Cortes
wondered if this might not be a good time to attempt to indoctrinate the Tlaxcalans with
the principles of Christianity. Padre de la Merced suggested waiting until the Tlaxcalan
rulers actually brought their daughters and link their acceptance with the idea of
conversion.
Accordingly, when the Tlaxcalans showed up with five young maidens, daughters of the
nation's leaders, Cortes thanked them and acknowledged them as received but
requested they be kept with their parents. When the Tlaxcalans asked why, Cortes
explained he and his men could not accept the maidens as long as they professed a
religion that condoned human sacrifice and cannibalism. He then explained the tenets of
his own religion through his interpreters, doña Marina and Jeronimo de Aguilar, who had
by now become very adept at presenting this subject.
The Tlaxcalans listened with awe as the tale of the beginnings of Christianity unfolded.
They then said that no doubt the Christian god was a good one and, in time, when they
understood more about Him, they would be better able to follow His teachings. But, they
explained it would not be logical or reasonable to expect them to give up the gods of their
ancestors who had stood by them over the generations. Padre de la Merced could see
that the conversion was going nowhere and advised Cortes to desist. The good friar also
suggested that they be careful to not repeat the destruction of the idols that had brought
them to the edge of conflict earlier with the Cempoalans. His counsel was immediately
supported by Francisco de Lugo and Juan Velasquez de Leon; they further suggested
that Cortes not bring up subject again with the caciques. In a compromise gesture,
Cortes had a mass said during which the young maidens were baptized. Old Xicotenatl‘s
daughter was christened doña Luisa; Cortes gave her to Pedro de Alvarado who was a
bachelor. Doña Luisa later bore Alvarado a son, don Pedro, and a daughter, doña
Leonor, who later married into Spanish nobility. The daughters of the other caciques
were given to other captains..
The hearty, laughing Pedro de Alvarado was well liked and much admired by the
Tlaxcalans. Because of his warm nature, curly blond hair, and fair complexion, they gave
him the name of their sun god, Tonatiuh. To Cortes, who always appeared with doña
Marina, or Malinche, as they called her, they gave the same name, Malinche.
In the interim, Motecuzoma sent another delegation with rich gifts for Cortes, and an
invitation to come to the Aztec capital. With the invitation also came advice not to listen
to or enter into, alliances with the ―treacherous" Tlaxcalans. Motecuzoma recommended
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Cortes come by way of a city called Cholula which was friendly, and where arrangements
were being made to welcome him and his men. The Tlaxcalans warned Cortes of the
dangers of going to the Aztec capital where Motecuzoma could easily put an army of one
hundred fifty thousand men in the field. They also warned him about the Cholulans who
were not great warriors, but were to be feared for their deviousness and duplicity. It was
at Cholula, they said, that Motecuzoma gathered his troops for sneak attacks on
surrounding provinces including Tlaxcala. They also reminded Cortes that during his stay
he had received emissaries from many areas, some very distant, expressing their good
will, but from Cholula, which was only a day's march away, he had received nothing.
Cortes took the message to heart and sent a delegation to Cholula to demand its
submission. The Cholulans soon sent a delegation to invite Cortes to their city. They
made the mistake of sending ambassadors of low rank. The Tlaxcalans noticed this and
reported the affront to Cortes. A new summons was issued to the Cholulans to
immediately send a delegation of the proper rank, or suffer the consequences of being
branded as rebels by challenging Cortes' sovereignty over these territories. The
Cholulans chose not to challenge this somewhat pretentious claim. A deputation of
citizens of the proper rank promptly appeared at the Spanish camp. The ambassadors
explained they had not come sooner because of their fear of entering the territory of their
Tlaxcalan enemies. The excuse was considered plausible and accepted by Cortes who
decided to march to Cholula.
The Tlaxcalans were displeased by this decision, and expressed their concern for the
Spaniards' safety. The Tlaxcalans said that Motecuzoma had sent fifty thousand men to
Cholula to set up an ambush for Cortes and his men. The main road to the town had
been closed off, and another had been opened that where the Cholulans had placed
hidden traps for the cavalry. Further, they said, the whole town was on a war footing with
certain streets walled off, and the roofs loaded with stones to rain down upon the
Spaniards should they chose to enter its confines. To help offset the risks of Cholulan
treachery, they offered ten thousand armed men to accompany the Spaniards.
Considering the effect this would have on the Cholulans, Cortes declined the offer but
accepted a smaller guard of one thousand men. Nevertheless, the entire Tlaxcalan army
followed the Spaniards into Cholulan territory.
As they approached within two leagues of the city, the citizens and priests came forth in a
procession singing religious chants and swinging smoking braziers of copal incense. The
Cholulan leaders communicated to the Spaniards their discomfort with the presence of so
many Tlaxcalan enemies. Cortes felt this was reasonable and asked the Tlaxcalans to
remain outside the city. This calmed the Cholulans. Cortes took advantage of the
occasion to give his usual speech about obedience to the King of Spain, and of the need
for the natives to give up their pagan idols as well as their obscene sacrificial and sexual
practices. The Cholulans replied that while they would be willing to submit to the Spanish
monarch, the Spaniards had no right to demand they give up their gods who had stood
by them for so many generations.
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Entering the city, from their vantagepoint the Spanish mounted troops could detect
several walled off streets and barriers at a number of locations. They also noticed that
within the city were Aztec ambassadors who had not come to visit Cortes, but instead
engaged in steady communication with the Aztec delegation that had accompanied the
Spaniards from Tlaxcala. Cortes took notice, but said nothing. As they advanced deeper
into the city, they saw it contained close to four hundred Teocallis, and a large pyramid
twice as long as the great pyramid of Cheops in Egypt. The structure covered an area of
some forty-four acres, and on its summit housed a monument to Quetzalcoatl whose
bejeweled image ruled over the surroundings. Pilgrims came from every area of the land
of Anahuac to visit this Mecca of the local faith.
The Spaniards were led to their housing and provided meals. For two days, food and
attention were normal. After the Aztec emissaries disappeared, the quality and quantity
of food and service diminished radically. During this time, three Cempoalans came to
Cortes to report that the streets surrounding their quarters had well-hidden holes in them.
Disguised with branches and earth, the holes contained sharpened stakes meant to
impale horses that fell in the traps.
The Cempoalans also reported that the roofs and terraces were stocked with stones. This
was confirmed by eight Tlaxcalans who showed up at the same time with the further
news that the Cholulans were definitely ill disposed toward the Spaniards, having
sacrificed seven people the night before, five of whom were children. Cortes alerted his
troops and made sure the horses remained saddled during the night in the event of a
surprise attack.
While all this was going on, doña Marina received the unexpected visit of an elderly, but
well-to-do Cholulan lady and her young son. She had come to warn doña Marina of the
danger she was in. The lady hoped that by helping Marina save her life she would be
induced to marry her son. The lady, the wife of one of the Cholulan captains, told of a
plan ordered by Motecuzoma to kill or take all the Spaniards on the following morning.
Feigning agreement, Marina excused herself to get one her wraps and used the
interruption to alert Aguilar who passed the news onto Cortes. Cortes acted with
determination and speed. He had one of the Cholulan leaders brought into his
presence. Under interrogation, with a dagger pointed at his heart, the Cholulan quickly
confessed all and corroborated the old lady's story.
The next morning, the Cholulan leaders began to fill the surrounding courtyard with
laughing and jeering warriors in numbers far larger than had been promised as an escort
for the voyage to Tenochtitlan. Cortes was also aware that Motecuzoma had posted
twenty thousand troops in nearby ravines who were to emerge at the proper moment.
Cortes mounted his horse and, with doña Marina translating, addressed the Cholulan
leaders. He told them how he knew all that they had planned, and enumerated all the
preparations and plans they had prepared down to the details of the number of Spaniards
(20) they intended to sacrifice to their gods that night. He rebuked them for their
falseness and informed them that they would be punished. The Cholulans immediately
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blamed Motecuzoma for forcing them to share in this deed. Cortes would have none of it,
and told them that the penalty for treason was death.
At this point, he had a musket fired; this was the signal for the combat to begin. The
Spaniards had earlier sealed off the courtyard trapping a large number of Cholulans
inside and keeping an even larger number outside from entering. Steady volleys of
arquebus and crossbow mowed the Cholulans down file after file. Hearing the action
inside the walls, the :Cholulans on the outside rushed the gates to enter, but were cut
down by cannon fire. In between volleys, the cavalry charged through the gates into the
massed native ranks. Reacting to the signal, the Tlaxcalans mounted their own assault
on the city. At Cortes‘ suggestion, the Tlaxcalans wore wreaths around their heads to
avoid being confused with the Cholulans.
The battle went on for five hours. The Cholulans defended themselves fiercely but were
unable to match the power of the combined assault by the Spaniards and their allies.
The Tlaxcalans avenged themselves on their enemies to such an extent that Cortes had
to call the Tlaxcalan chiefs before him to put a stop to the killing. One party of
Cholulans, led by a group of priests, took up a defensive position on the heights of the
great pyramid. From there they rained down javelins, stones and burning arrows on the
heads of the Spaniards who fought their way up the hundred and twenty steps to the top.
Protected from missiles by their steel helmets, the Spaniards used the firebrands to set
fire to the temple which quickly was consumed by the flames. Only one of the pyramid‘s
defenders survived the conflagration.
As the defense of the city weakened, the looting and sacking began. The Spaniards
went after gold, silver and jewels. The Tlaxcalans placed a higher value on garments
and the simpler needs of life. It is an impressive indicator of the power of Cortes'
personality and leadership that in the midst of this pandemonium in which six thousand
persons were killed, women and children were spared because he had ordered it so. At
the height of the violence, some of the captive Cholulan caciques that had originally
opposed the policy of hostility to the Spaniards asked clemency for their people. The
request was seconded by the Aztec ambassadors. Cortes consented, as a gesture to the
Aztecs, to stop the hostilities. He sent the Cholulan chiefs to carry a message of pardon
to their people, provided they agreed to cease hostilities and submit to Spanish order. At
the same time, he gave his troops orders to disengage from combat with the. Cholulans.
Cristobal de Olid was given the task of conveying the same order to the Tlaxcalans. De
Olid carried the additional assignment of liberating prisoners taken by the allied native
troops. Implacable though they might be in combat, the Spaniards did not hold with the
native habit of taking prisoners for sacrifice and eating. The Tlaxcalans reluctantly
acquiesced, and some semblance of order was brought to the city. The senior cacique of
the Cholulans had been killed in the fighting. Cortes installed the cacique's brother as
governor. In keeping with his mission of propagation of the Christian faith, Cortes then
had the city's leaders assembled to preach to them the evils of their pagan ways. He
ordered them to erect two crosses, and to destroy their idols. The Cholulans obeyed the
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first order, and procrastinated on the second. In a few days, however, markets were
reopened and supplies began their flow into the city again.
It did not take long for Motecuzoma to learn of the Cholulan massacre. The Aztec
squadrons that had been lying in ambush in the ravines surrounding the city quickly
returned to Tenochtitlan to report the details. Further, after the city had fallen, in the
presence of the Aztec ambassadors, Cortes extracted from the Cholulan leaders a
confession of Motecuzoma‖s complicity in the plot against the Spaniards. He rebuked
the Aztecs, and threatened to enter Tenochtitlan not as a friend but as an enemy who
would sow destruction in his path.
The ambassadors obtained permission for one of their number to journey the eighty miles
to the capital and report to Motecuzoma. The Aztec emperor was deeply disturbed and
angered by these events. He sacrificed several prisoners, and then retreated into the
Great Teocalli where for several days he fasted and bled himself seeking divine
guidance. Strengthened by consorting with the gods, Motecuzoma emerged reaffirmed
in his faith and his policies. He also decided to let the Spaniards come to his capital
where, given his superior numbers, he could destroy them at the appropriate moment.
While Motecuzoma was engaged in his spiritual retreat, neighboring nations in all of
Anahuac began sending emissaries to establish relationships with the Spaniards.
Presents of gold and slaves were brought to Cortes. Another deputation from
Motecuzoma also arrived bearing gifts and weak explanations of the Cholulan ambush.
They attempted, once more, to dissuade Cortes from visiting their capital. Cortes
reiterated his intention to personally deliver his monarch's message to Motecuzoma, and
warned that dread consequences could befall the Aztec if he did not receive the visit in
good spirit.
Unbeknown to Cortes, Motecuzoma had been attempting for some time to capture a live
Spaniard to better understand the type of creatures they were, and perhaps to sacrifice
one to Huitzilipochtli. A chief by the name Quauhpopoca from the province of
Coyohuacan, near Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz, ambushed a Spanish patrol. His troops
returned with one live, but badly wounded Spaniard and the body of another. These
were sent to Motecuzoma, but the wounded Spaniard died along the way. Unwilling to
carry the dead bodies, the Coyohuacanos cut their heads off and delivered them to
Motecuzoma. One of the heads belonged to vigorous young man by the name of
Arguello. His rather large head sported a flowing mane of thick black, curly hair, and an
equally splendid beard. Motecuzoma gazed at the heads in silence, and then
commented that these creatures may not be gods, but from their countenance he judged
them to be brave men. They could be the men who according to the ancient prophecies
would come from the East to rule them.
Motecuzoma sent yet another embassy to Cortes; this one, however, invited him to visit
the capital. The six ambassadors brought many gifts of gold and jewels, and another
message from Motecuzoma blaming the "evil'' Cholulans for their hostile behavior.
Cortes returned three of the ambassadors with a message of acceptance, and retained
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the other three as guides. As Cortes prepared himself for the march to the capital, the
Cempoalans came to him announcing their intention to return to their land. They feared
entering the heart of their enemies' empire, and believed they and the Spaniards would
perish there. Cortes tried to change their minds but, in the end, accepted their reasons.
Giving public recognition to their loyalty and bravery, he shared many of Motecuzoma‘s
gifts with them and wished them Godspeed.
As the Spaniards set forth from Cholula, about four leagues distant they came to a place
where the peoples of surrounding towns awaited them with gifts and messages of
goodwiill. They cautioned Cortes against going onto the capital because they feared the
large numbers of Motecuzoma‘s troops would defeat the Spaniards in battle. But, if
Cortes insisted on making the trip, he and his men should beware of a trap set for them
by Motecuzoma at a point beyond a fork in the road. One of the roads would be blocked
with fallen timbers and rocks. The other would lead to a pass between the mountains
where Motecuzoma‘s troops waited to annihilate the Spaniards. When, on the following
day, they arrived at the blocked road, Cortes summoned the Aztec emissaries and
questioned them about the purpose of this obstacle. They said it had been done to make
sure the Spaniards would not take a road that would be too difficult for their horses. On
further interrogation, they did admit that the blocked road was the more direct of the two.
Cortes ordered the path cleared and marched the army along this road.
As the Spaniards climbed the zigzagging road toward the heights that overlook the
Mexican central plateau, cold winds from the snow-capped peaks chilled them to the
bone. They now approached the pass between Iztaccihuatl (White Woman) and
Popocatepetl (Hill That Smokes), the tall mountains that tower over the Mexican
landscape. A long plume of smoke rose out of Popocatepetl, unwavering in the middle of
the strong winds that blast the area. The Spaniards asked the natives about this
phenomenon. To the natives, a smoking volcano was normal. ―That is what volcanoes
do,‖ they replied. As would be expected, they had many superstitions and legends that
associated with Popocatepetl and his wife Iztaccihuatl. Imprisoned within the volcano
were the spirits of departed rulers who had been wicked during their lifetimes. They now
suffered terrible punishments and pains, which caused the surrounding area to convulse.
No doubt the smoke plume now ascending from the bowels of the supernatural peak was
some form of recognition or warning triggered by the presence of the white Teules.
It is in the nature of daring men who have conquered seemingly impossible odds to seek
even greater challenges to their capabilities. To these hardy Spaniards, the existence of
such a magnificent natural phenomenon as this white-capped smoking mountain was a
challenge in itself, one that could not go unmet. True to character, one of them, Diego de
Ordaz, a member of the Velasquez faction, decided to prove that the Spaniards were
worthy of the title of Teules, and equal to the challenge of Popocatepetl. With nine
volunteers, plus some native guides and carriers, de Ordaz started up the steep slope.
The path led through a thick forest with heavy underbrush. After cutting their way
through this obstacle, the men reached the timberline and began the ascent through the
rocky crags. The volcano periodically spewed intimidating amounts of smoke, ash and
rocks. As they approached the level where these began to fall about them, they
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encountered several native monuments erected as a warning to any that might dare to go
higher. The natives came to a dead stop; the territory beyond this point was taboo to
them.
The Spaniards kept on and soon were struggling through snow and ice as they neared
the crater of the almost eighteen thousand foot high volcano. At this point, Popocatepetl
roared a mighty smoke and ash-filled warning that almost suffocated the intrepid
climbers. Common sense took over; the men decided they had proven their point within
reason. They began the descent bearing samples of snow and several large icicles as
souvenirs of their bold adventure. The natives were decidedly awed by this seemingly
incontrovertible proof of Spanish supernatural power. In a report to the Emperor Charles
the Fifth, Cortes described the exploit. As a result, the de Ordaz family was allowed to
include the smoking hill in its escutcheon. True to his character, Cortes was not pleased
with the result of the expedition; he felt the men should have reached the top of the
volcano. On the other hand, Cortes was much pleased with a side benefit of the climb.
From the slopes of the volcano, de Ordaz and his men had had their first breath-taking
view of the valley of Mexico and the beautiful sight of Tenochtitlan, the Aztec jewel set in
the crystaline blue of Lake Texcoco. They also spotted a good road. Asking the natives
where it led, they were told 'to Colhua‖ or the land of Mexico.
Cortes and his men continued their march around the northern end of Iztaccihuatl,
climbing ever higher into the colder climate. Snow and sleet often added to their labors
and discomfort. Finally, after coming around a bend on the edge of one of the
mountains, they came within sight of the Valley of Mexico. All along the slopes
descending into the valley were mighty forests of sycamore, cedar, oak and many other
varieties. Flower gardens and fruit orchards were interspersed among the endless yellow
fields of maize.
Dominating the scene were the blue waters of the interconnecting lakes of Tzumpanco,
Xaltocan, Texcoco, XochimiIco, and Chalco. Along the borders of the lakes were
numerous cities and villages, and in the middle of the largest lake was the Mexican
Venice, Tenochtitlan, in all its splendor. The Spaniards rejoiced at the pristine beauty of
the Iands they contemplated, a beauty they were destined to destroy. Within a few
generations, nothing would remain of the original city, the woods would disappear, and
the lakes would dry up leaving only dry mud and salt. Today, Ciudad de Mexico is rapidly
approaching the title of largest city in the world with nearly twenty million inhabitants.
They live in a sprawling metropolis of buildings, houses and shacks all covered with
reddish brown dust that constantly swirls in the polluted smog permanently shrouding the
city. The beauty of yore is only a thing of faint memories hidden in books and museums.
Spanish explorers had been in the New World almost twenty eight years since its
discovery, but nothing of the magnitude of Tenochtitlan had ever been found.
Some of Cortes' men were inspired by the power and wealth of the civilization before
them, as well as the opportunities for conquest and glory. Others were intimidated by
their own temerity in attempting to conquer so many with so few. Words of
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encouragement from Cortes and other leaders whipped the army back into a conquering
spirit as the troops marched toward their awesome destination.
They came to a place called Quauhtechcatl where quarters existed for the housing of
traveling merchants or Pochtecas. They camped there and, that night received the visit
of yet another embassy from Motecuzoma. As the delegates approached, their wealth
and trappings caused a rumor to spread through the camp that the visitors included
Motecuzoma himself. Certainly, the pomp and dignity of the embassy, as well as the
deference shown to its chief, might have justified such a belief. Cortes was not fooled.
He judged that Motecuzoma would not have chosen that time or place to show himself.
Suspecting that the rumor might have been triggered by the Mexicans themselves, he
decided to play along. When the very dignified and haughty visitor came with the usual
gifts before the Spanish leader, Cortes received him well and asked him directly if he was
Motecuzoma. When the visitor said he was, Cortes turned to his Tlaxcalan allies and
asked if that was so. The Tlaxcalans replied it was not Motecuzoma but Tzioacpopoca,
one of the emperor's men. Cortes remained courteous but showed his displeasure at this
foolish ruse by quickly dismissing Tzioacpopoca. It is hard to divine what purpose the
use of look-alikes had in Motecuzoma‘s schemes; first, Quintalbor, the Cortes look-alike,
then Tzioacpopoca who strongly resembled the Aztec emperor himself. Whatever
Motecuzoma‘s reasons, they didn‘t affect Cortes' determination to come face to face with
him.
The Spaniards continued their advance toward the Valley of Mexico, surrounded on
either side by woods from which local natives watched their movements. Cortes, who
was ever alert and distrusting of his adversary's motives, worried about the army's ability
to defend itself at all times from unexpected attacks. He did not like the idea of having
potential enemies around without being able to monitor or control their movements. He
had some of the native leaders brought to him, and told them that among his men were
some who never slept at night. These men, he said, kill any person who comes close to
them in the darkness. For your own safety and that of your people, he told them, do not
let them come near after sunset. Cortes should have followed his own advice. As he
made his rounds of the camp in the darkness of that night, he approached a soldier by
the name of Martin Lopez who almost unleashed a crossbow bolt at him. At the last
second, Cortes gave the password, and Martin Lopez, probably angered and relieved at
the same time, admonished him to use the password earlier from a safe distance.
Caution grew as the Spaniards came closer to the heart of the Aztec Empire. So did fear
among the men who knew their numbers were so small in the face of the vast numbers of
their enemies. But if the Spaniards feared the unknown, so did Motecuzoma who now
was tortured by apprehensions and superstitions. He sent another mission to Cortes with
many fine gifts of gold and robes of delicate featherwork. Again, his message to Cortes
implored him not to come to the capital. If Cortes would accept his request, Motecuzoma
would send four loads of gold to him and one for each of his captains, as well as an
annual tribute to the Spanish monarch, all to be delivered, of course, on the coast.
Cortes graciously accepted the mission, the gifts, and the message, but responded that
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his sovereign had given him the charge of personally conveying his greeting to the Aztec
emperor and he could do nothing to change that order.
The army arrived at a town called Amecmeca where the Spaniards and their entourage
were warmly received and housed. Cortes' fame had spread throughout the land and
delegations from many other locations were waiting to greet him, each bearing gifts of
some value. Cortes delivered his by now standard sermon on the values of Christianity
and the moral turpitude of the local gods. It had as little effect as any place else. But,
when he explained that the Spaniards came to their country to right the wrongs
perpetrated upon them by others, he struck a chord in the hearts of the residents. Out of
earshot of Motecuzoma‘s ambassadors, the natives made it clear that the abuses of the
Aztec emperor and his tax collectors were a terrible burden tolerated only because they
were helpless to defend themselves against the might of the empire. It became evident
to Cortes that Motecuzoma‘s empire rested on a reign of terror, and that the smoldering
resentment in the hearts of the subject peoples could be used against the Aztecs.
Before leaving Amecameca, Cortes received gifts of gold and other valuables worth more
than three thousand castellanos. Cortes also asked that twenty of the residents of
Amecameca accompany him on his journey to the capital. As Cortes came closer to the
heart of Motecuzoma‘s empire, he brought with him representatives from each of the
native territories visited by the Spaniards. A shrewd political strategist, Cortes may have
seen this policy as a means of showing Motecuzoma that the subject peoples were no
longer under his command, and had become a force to reckon with as allies of the
Spaniards. It is also probable that Cortes was attempting to disguise the smallness of the
Spanish numbers by adding more bodies to his force.
As Cortes and his army approached Lake Chalco, the southernmost of the
interconnecting lakes, a messenger arrived requesting their departure be delayed until
the King of Texcoco could present his respects. Before long, a splendid procession
appeared carrying the lord Cacama, nephew of Motecuzoma, on a gold-plated palanquin
with richly wrought columns supporting a green feather canopy. Cacama, a comely
young man of some twenty-five years of age, bore himself with such grace and dignity
that the Spaniards wondered how much more stately would the great Motecuzoma
himself be. As Cacama approached Cortes, his captains swept the dust of the ground
before him.
Cacama gave the greeting of hand to earth and head, and Cortes embraced him.
Welcoming Cortes to the capital in the name of Motecuzoma, Cacama presented him
with three large pearls. Cortes reciprocated with a necklace of cut glass. Cacama
delivered Motecuzoma‘s repeated message of good will, and suggestions that the
Spaniards not come to the capital. He suggested that they would suffer much hardship
and want, and the emperor would be embarrassed by his inability to provide for them in
the manner they might deserve. Cortes was his usual gracious self in explaining why he
was unable to satisfy Motecuzoma‘s request. After exchanging pleasantries and
assurances of friendship, the parties separated and Cortes continued on to the capital.
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As they marched around the south end of Lake Chalco, the Spaniards passed by the
small town of Mizquic built on stilts in the water. The road then advanced directly into the
water where it became a dike separating Lake Chalco from Lake XochimiIco to the west.
The causeway, built of stone and mortar, varied in width from the length of a hor-seman's
spear, as Corte's described it, to places where as many as eight horsemen could ride
abreast. Alongside the dike, natives flitted back and forth in their pirogues, carrying
produce and trying to catch a better view of the strange creatures. The Spaniards were
amazed by the 'floating gardens" (they didn't really float) or "chinampas;" the Aztecs had
learned to create from reeds, decaying vegetable matter, and lake bottom mud to grow
their vegetables, fruits and flowers.
The lake to the left of the Spaniards as they advanced along the causeway was
XochimiIco, which in Nahuatl means ―field of flowers". Halfway across Lake Chalco, the
Spaniards came to the town of Cuitlahuac; they universally acclaimed it the most
beautiful they had ever seen. They felt they were in a dream world, in a fantasy land not
unlike that described in Amadis de Gaula. (This book about knights-errant was very
popular during that period in Spain. In fact, Miguel de Cervantes, in his Don Quixote
attributed the hero‘s madness to excessive reading of Amadis de Gaula.)
The army rested and refreshed at Cuitlahuac; then, at the insistence of the Aztec
ambassadors, went on to reach Ixtapalapan on the causeway separating the southern
lakes from Lake Texcoco. There, they were received by Motecuzoma‘s brother, also
named Cuitlahuac (who had consistently opposed receiving Cortes in the capital) and the
ruler of Coyoacan. Again, gold and other valuables worth three to four thousand
castellanos were presented to Cortes.
Ixtapalapan had nearly fifteen thousand houses, some built on land and others on water.
Built of masonry and stone, the houses had many rooms decorated with sweet-scented
beams of cedar. Woven tapestries of many designs and colors decorated the walls, and
the courts were shaded by cotton awnings. Surrounding Cuitlahuac's palace were
gardens of exquisite taste, laid out in squares with intersecting lanes bordered with
trellisses covered with aromatic vines and shrubs; frult trees and flowers grew
everywhere along paths lined with native roses. An aviary with many varieties of brightlyfeathered birds, and a large stone resevoir stocked with fish added to the beauty of the
gardens. The Spaniards had found Paradise and, for one night, they enjoyed it. Soon it
would be gone, destroyed along with everyhttng else that stood in the way of their lust for
gold and conquest.
The next day, November eighth, 1519, they set out from Ixtalapapan along the next
causeway across Lake Texcoco to Tenochtitlan. Escorted by Cuitlahuac and his retinue,
and with Corte's leading a small contingent of horsemen at the head of the column, the
army made its way through the throngs of curious natives who came to see this new
wonder. There were less than four hundred Spaniards and a few horses, but the six
thousand Tiaxcalan warriors and repesentatives of other native nations brought the ranks
of the army close to seven thousand. The Spaniards marveled at the wonders of Aztec
engineering and architecture as they advanced along the dike. They crossed many
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bridges at frequent intervals. The lake was crowded on both sides with canoes. Cortes
and his men could not help but remember the warnings of the Cempoalans and the
Tlaxcalans about the dangers of placing themselves in the midst of so numerous and
powerful an enemy. Their misgivings were mixed with a tinge of self-admiration for
having dared to come so far against such great odds. Ever alert and watchful, Cortles
made sure the troops did not break strict military discipine along the way; he exhorted
them to carry themselves with pride and honor. (The temptation of the effusive Spaniards
to gawk and point excitedly is understandable; no European had seen or even dreamed
of such wonders before.)
About a mile and a half along the Ixtapalapan causeway, it was joined by a small branch
leading from Coyoacan. Here the Aztecs had built the Xoloc fortress, a stone wall about
twelve feet high that traversed the causeway and was topped by two towers, one at each
end. In the middle of the stronghold, a gateway with battlements controlled access to the
capital. About a thousand dignitaries awaited the Spaniards at this point and paid their
respects to Cortes. This ceremony delayed the army's march for roughly one hour. In
the meantime, the Lords of Texcoco, Tacuba, Coyoacan and Ixtalapapan went forward to
greet Motecuzoma who advanced in a richly decorated litter accompanied by a large
retinue of Aztec nobles. Once the ceremony ended, the army passed through the Xoloc
gateway continuing its march toward the capital.
As they approached the gates of the city, the Spaniards came to a wooden bridge about
ten steps long, which Cortes noticed was removable. Spanning an opening in the dike
that controlled the passage waters from one side of the lake to the other, it was one of
many meant to help defend the city. Crossing the removable bridge, the Spaniards
realized they would be cut off from any chance of escape if the situation should turn
hostile. Straight and wide, with many beautiful buildings on either side, the road ahead
continued for approximately another two miles.
The sight that awaited the Spaniards took their breath away. Advancing toward them in
two long lines along that road was the awesome spectacle of the royal procession of
Aztec nobles in all their majestic splendor. Preceded by three dignitaries bearing golden
wands of state, the procession walked at a solemn pace. The nobles were barefoot and
kept their eyes downcast for it was unthinkable (and also punishable) to look the Revered
Speaker in the face. Motecuzoma‘s palanquin blazed with burnished gold, covered by a
rich canopy of green feathers embroidered with gold, silver, pearls, and jadestones.
Motecuzoma, magnificently dressed, wore jeweled sandals with soles of gold.
When the emperor descended from his palanquin, the nobles swept the ground before
him covering it with cloth that his feet might not touch the common ground. Assisted by
four richly dressed nobles, with another four bearing the canopy to protect him f'rom the
sun, Motecuzoma strode proudly forward to meet Cortes who dismounted from his horse
and walked smiling towards him. About forty at this time, the emperor was tall and thin,
but well proportioned. His face was framed by long straight, black hair and a short, thin
beard. The Spaniards noted that his skin was lighter than that of most of his subjects.
Motecuzoma‘s expression was serious, but not severe.
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One can only wonder what thoughts might have filled the minds of these two men as they
walked towards one another. Cortes certainly had reason to be pleased that he, a
common Spaniard, was meeting on equal terms with the sovereign of a vast empire. At
the same time, he must have wondered where this would lead to, and how to bring this
extraordinary event to a successful conclusion for his men and himself. Motecuzoma had
little to gain except for the opportunity to size up this strange and powerful adversary that
he might have to crush. His mind must have been filled with the prophecies and
warnings of his priests, as well as a genuine curiosity about these creatures who might
be Quetzalcoatl‘s people. Representing vastly different cultures, the two men had
maneuvered much around one another, one in anticipation and the other in avoidance of
this meeting. Finally, they were about to look one another in the eyes for the first time.
With princely dignity, Motecuzoma welcomed Cortés and his men to his capital, and
expressed his satisfaction at personally meeting the Spanish leader. Giving recognition
to the emperor's generosity expressed in the many gifts sent to him, Cortes then placed a
chain of glass stones on a gold cord around Motecuzomals neck. Through doña Marina,
Cortes conveyed his pleasure at meeting so great a ruler. He told him how he felt
especially honored by the fact that Motecuzoma had come personally to greet him.
Cortes then advanced to embrace Motecuzoma but was held off by the emperor‘s
attendants who indicated that such gestures were not acceptable. The two leaders took
the measure of each other as they continued to offer words of politeness. Motecuzoma
managed to conceal his dread of the portents associated with the artival of these white
strangers whose bold leader smiled while he spoke through his woman interpreter.
Cortés must have wondered what the Aztec monarch had in store for him. He also must
have wondered how he would extricate his men and himself from the situation they were
entering should it turn threatening. And, in the middle stood the native woman who as a
child had been sold into slavery by her mother. Doña Marina found herself addressing
the feared overlord of all the surrounding lands, doing what not even his greatest nobles
dared, looking him directly in the face.
In their wildest early life dreams, none of these three could have imagined such a scene,
nor could anyone have predicted it. Never again would the world witness such a strange
combination of personalities.
All that was at stake in this meeting, the fate of empires, the lives of millions of people,
and the future of two great cultures, depended on the ability of dona Marina, a lowly
captive from a small village in an outlying region, to translate with reasonable accuracy
the words of the two leaders.
The stage was set for the dramatic events that were about to follow. A great civilization
was about to be destroyed, and handed over to a distant monarch who would never
understand its value nor particularly care about anything but the wealth it generated for
his coffers.
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Tenochtitlan was a city of some 300,000 inhabitants, about five times the size of London
at that time. The Spaniards, most of whom had probably never seen a really large city
before, were amazed at the numbers of people who filled the streets and rooftops, as well
as the number of canoes and dugouts circulating throught the city's many canals. The
main causeway from the south continued through to the center of the city as a broad,
straight avenue, lined on either side by the palaces of the noble and wealthy. These
mansions built with red, porous stone from a nearby quarry, were mostly one floor with a
roof terrace bordered by a low stone wall that effectively turned every house into a
defensive bastion. Many houses had complete flower gardens on these roof terraces,
but the larger ones were surrounded by broad, terraced gardens. The houses of the poor
were, for the most part, made from reeds and mud.
With banners flying and drums playing, the Spaniards entered the main square of the
city where a huge pyramid, second in size only to the one in Xolula, dominated
the scene; it was the temple of Huitzilipochtli. The square was surrounded by
large buildings. On the west side stood the palace of Axayacatl, Motecuzoma‘s
father, who had built it ftfty years earlier. Here, the Spaniards would be lodged. As they
entered, they saw clean swept hallways, large rooms, and flowers everywhere.
Moteczuma greeted them in the courtyard and presentedCortés with a heavy gold
neclace of extaordinarily fine workmanship made with figures in the shape of little crabs.
Placing the necklace around Cortés‘s throat, Motecuzoma told him this palace was his;
he added that he would visit him again after he and his men had time to rest. Cortés
immediately took stock of his surroundings; he placed his cannon and sentries along the
best avenues of defense, and gave orders that no man leave his quarters. The penalty
for disobeying this order would be death. Cortés wanted to reduce the risk of incidents
between his men and the emperor's subjects.
After the Spaniards had rested and eaten, Motecuzoma came again to visit them. Once
seated, the two leaders began to learn about each other and their respective countries.
Motecuzoma wanted to know more about Cortes's monarch, the Spanish government,
the relationship of Cortes and his men to their king, and the reason for their visit to the
land of Anahuac. Cortes explained that they came from where the sun rose. He and his
monarch had heard of the greatness of Motecuzoma; they wanted to bring to him and his
people the benefits of the true faith that all Christians shared. Given the resistance
encountered on this subject in earlier conversations with other native leaders, Cortés
chose not to press the point at this time. Motecuzoma indicated he was well informed of
the Spaniards' progress from the time of their landing. He asked if the other white men
who had landed in the previous two years were also from Spain. He also asked about
the names and the positions of Cortes‘s key officers. Before leaving, Motecuzoma gave
presents of jewels and gold to all those present, and garments for all of the Spaniards
and their allies. The emperor's pleasant and respectful manner made the Spaniards
doubt the tales they had heard from their allies.
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That night the Spaniards decided to celebrate their arrival in Tenochtitaan with an
arttillery salute to the emperor and his subjects. As the thunder of the cannons roared
across the valley of Mexico and the sulfurous stench of gunsmoke spread through the
immediate surroundings, the intended recipients of this singular honor must have
wondered what new nightmare had been let loose in their midst. Cortés knew full weli
what effect this thunder and smoke would have upon the imagination of the people of
Tenochtitlan.
The following morning Cortés sent word to Motecuzoma of his desire to visit him in his
quarters. The emperor acceded and sent some of his officers to guide Cortés there.
Accompanied by Pedro de Alvarado, Diego de ordas, Juan Velasquez de Leon, Gonzalo
de Sandoval, and five members of the army‘s rank and file, Cortés was led to the
emperor‘s residence, which was across the square. The royal palace had over a hundred
rooms spread out among several contiguous low buildings. It could be accessed through
twenty doors that opened onto the four surrounding streets. The walls were made of
stone, some with marble,jasper and porphyry; on them hung bright, colorful tapestries
portraying animals and natural scenes as weil as religious symbols.
The
ceilings werebeamed with cedar, palm, pine, cypress and other woods often carved into
animal shapes. The many fountains in the courtyards and the one hundred baths were
fed by water brought through an aqueduct all the way across the lake from a reservoir on
Chapultepec hill on the mainland. The floors were covered with palm leaf mats, and
incense burned in braziers throughout the rooms (possibly to offset the malodorous
Spanish presence).
As they entered the great hallway, their Aztec escorts covered their splendid robes with
plain, coarse mantles the type used by the poorest natives, removed their sandals, and
greeted their Revered Speaker barefoot and with downcast eyes. Accompanied by
several of his nephews, Motecuzoma met Cortés in the great halfway. The emperor took
Cortes by the hand and sat him at his right (perhaps this gesture of favor had 'the same
significance as In Europe). After the expected prliminary courtesies, Cortés launched into
his sermon on the origins and virtues of Christianity.
As always, doña Marina did her best to explain the Spaniard's words. Motecuzoma
listened carefully and replied that Cortes' gods were probably good, as were those of his
own people which they had received from the Great Being who had brought his ancestors
to this land. That Great Being had then returned to his land where the sun rises and
promised that one day he would return to rule. The fair complexions and the great deeds
of the Spaniards were proof that they came from the land of that Great Being. That was
enough for him and it would be unnecessary to bring up the subject again.
The emperor then went on to explain that if he had not seemed eager to invite the
Spaniards to his capital, it was because of the tales of the terrible cruelties they were said
to have inflicted with their lightning and other weapons upon his people. He now felt that
these had been idle stories as it was evident that the Spaniards were mortals of another
race who had many great and wonderful quaIities, for which he honored them. Smiling,
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he said the Spaniards had probably heard some tall tales from the Talxcalans about
himself being a great Teul and living in a palace of gold and silver. Showing his arm, he
pointed out that he was flesh and blood just as they were and his dwelling was made of
wood and stone, as were so many others. He closed his arguments with further presents
of gold, and mantles for Cortes and companions. Cortes thanked Motecuzoma for his
generosity and kind words. The Spaniards were touched by the empreror's fine manners
and muniftcence; removing their caps, they bowed deeply as they departed.
On the way back to their quarters, their conversation centered on their growing respect
and admiration for this native prince and his courtly ways.
After four days of staying in their quarters, the Spaniards were ready to see more of the
Aztec capital. Cortés wanted to visit the Great Teocalli, and sent doña Marina with
Jerónimo de Aguilar and a young page by name of Ortega (called Orteguilla by the
troops) who was quickly learning Nahuatl, to convey his intention to Motecuzoma. The
deeply devout emperor could not have been too pleased with the possibility of the
Spaniards causing some offense to his gods.
Making the best of a bad situation, Motecuzoma went on ahead to the temple to receive
Cortés there. With all his cavalry and most of his troops, the Spanish leader started out
for the northern part of the city, Tlaltelolco. On their way, they passed by Tianquitzli, the
great marketplace. Here, with great order and cleanliness, the city was supplied with a
tremendous variety of domestic and wild foodstuffs, as well as cotton goods, slaves,
pottery, copper and brassware, gold and silver. The gold was sold in the form of gold
dust kept in goose quills that allowed potential buyers to see the color and amount being
offered. Some of Cortés men who had traveled extensively throughout Europe, some as
far as Constantinople, agreed that they had never seen as large or as well-organized a
market. Policemen were assigned to watch over the order, and three permanent market
judges ruled over the proceedings.
From the marketplace, the Spaniards moved on to the square, which contained the great
Tlatelolco teocalli. The huge square was paved with large white flagstones, smoothed
and polished, and kept impeccably clean. In the midde stood the pyramid, 350 feet
square at the base and 150 at the top. When the Spaniards artived, Motecuzoma sent
six priests and two courtiers down to help Cortes climb the 124 steps to the top. As a
gesture of courtesy; the priests were to assist Cortes by holding him under the arms as
they did Motecuzoma when he ascended. The Spanish commander refused the
assistance and made it to the top on his own. The steps were steep and the ascent
difficult, but Cortés and his men took the exertion in stride, even bragging about not being
fatigued by the climb.
(*We climbed the Pyramid of the Sun at nearby Teotihuacan some years ago, and can
attest to the steepness of the steps and the exertion required to reach the top. A few
years later, we climbed the Mayan pyramid at Chichen-Itza. We discovered that the
steps were very tall -- which must have been a challenge to the Maya who were quite
short. The top of each step was very narrow; the only way you could get your whole foot
on the step was by placing it sideways. When we placed our feet sideways on the steps,
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we then discovered that the quickest and least strenuous way of climbing was diagonally,
zigzagging to the top. One of the guides later told us that, presumably, that was how the
Mayas climbed the pyramid.)
At the top stood the chapels of Huitzlipochtli and Tetzcatlipoca. There, Motecuzoma
waited to show them the view of his city. It was impressive.
The emperor took Cortés by the hand and showed him the city. Images come to
mind of Christ being tempted during his fast by the Devil who showed him the
riches of the world from a mountaintop. The question here is; atop the
Teocali, who was demon and who savior?
The view resembled nothing less than a living scale model of a white city on a blue lake
with causeways and canals, bridges and thousands of canoes navigating the waterways.
The wonder of it all might have taken the conqueror's breath away, but his mind very
likely was busy figuring out uses for the information gleaned from this living map:
avenues of access and escape.
In the end, however, his mind came around to the subject that seems to have constantly
occupied his thoughts. Turning to his priest, Father Olmedos, he asked if would be a
good time to approach Motecuzoma with the idea of setting up a Christian church on that
location. Despite his greater devotion to religious matters, the good father suggested
waiting for a more propitious occasion to broach the subject. Cortes then asked if it would
be possible to visit the two temples that crowned the top of the pyramid. After consulting
with the priests, and probably not without some trepidation,
Motecuzoma agreed.
Entering the temple of Huitzilipochtli, the Spaniards found themselves in a spacious room
where a large idol of this god dominated the area. The hideous image was adorned with
a necklace of gold and silver hearts hanging around its neck, and the body was full of
pearl and gem incrustations.
Lying on the altar before the image were three human hearts, fresh and still smoking from
having been thrust into the flames. The walls and floor of the chapel were black with
clotted blood which produced an unbearable stench, worse than that of any
slaughterhouse of the time. The next chapel, that of Texcatlipoca, was less horrendous;
nevertheless, five fresh human hearts still la on the altar. The Spaniards were much
relieved to leave the temples and their foul stench.
Cortés (shades of The Ugly Spaniard) could not resist commenting to Motecuzoma on
the despicable nature of the Aztec gods, suggesting that he would do much better to get
rid of them and replace them with Christian images and symbols. This was absolutely the
wrong thing to say to as devout a religious man as Motecuzoma who quickly replied that
if he had known that Cortés would utter such blasphemy, he would not have allowed the
visit.
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Smiling, Cortés indicated it was time he and his men should be getting along and
apologized for having offended the emperor. Outraged, Motecuzoma stayed behind to
atone for the Spanish sacrilege, possibly sacrificing more captives who might have lived
a little longer had it not been for Cortés' insensitive remarks.
Shortly after, Corté requested the emperor's permission to convert one of the rooms in
the Spaniards' residence into a chapeL Motecuzoma, recovered from his displeasure, not
only agreed to the idea but sent workmen to help with the construction. During the
process, the Spaniards noticed what seemed to be a door that had been sealed and
plastered over. Rumor had it that Motecuzoma had hidden his father's fortune
somewhere in the old palace. Aware of the rumor, the Spaniards quickly unsealed the
door and found a room full of gold and many other treasures. After taking stock of the
contents, Cortés had the room sealed and swore his men to secrecy about its existence.
The Spaniards had been in Tenochtitlan for a week now and, while Motecuzoma had
shown them nothing but courtesy, how long could this last How long could Cortés
continue to keep his men cooped up within the walls of Axayacatl's palace and under
control? Sooner or later they would enter in contact with the native population and these
rude, vigorous men of war could hardly be expected to behave like anything other than
what they were. Conflict would come; it was merely a matter of time.
Despite his unquestionable talent and the valor of his men, Cortés had also been lucky
and he knew it. How long could he expect his luck to last? What were his options? What
had started out as a voyage of exploration and search for wealth had now become a
mission of conquest. He and his men were in the heart of the greatest empire in the New
World; could they conquer and run it? And. If they couldn‘t, having learned to ride the
tiger would they be able to dismount from it without being devoured by it? If they chose to
leave, would they be allowed to? The thought of those removable bridges along the
causeway must have constantly lurked in the minds of the Spaniards. If they made it back
to the coast, what then? Would their native allies see such a move as weakness and turn
against them? And, what about Velasquez? Cortés knew the governor well enough to
know that he would not assume a passive role; sooner or later, Velasquez would make
his presence felt. The situation, although temporarily quiet, was desperate. There
seemed to be no acceptable options; he couldn‘t leave things as they were and all other
moves were fraught with danger.
Cortés came up with a solution so daring that he felt he must share it with his captains
before attempting to put it into practice. He called a war council and reviewed their
situation with its members. The conclusions were the same; they couldn‘t stay or leave
without some sort of negative outcome. Cortés then outlined his proposal; they would get
possession of Motecuzoma and bring him to their quarters. Cortés proposed that the
emperor be asked to come and stay with them but, if he refused, they should be prepared
to take him by force.Either way, the royal hostage would be protection against any hostile
acts on the part of the population.
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If Motecuzoma came of his own will, every effort would be made to preserve the
appearance of his sovereignty. The argument that would be used to persuade
Motecuzoma would be based on the attempt made against the garrison at Villa Rica de la
Vera Cruz. While still at Xolula, Cortes had been informed of the battle in which several of
the Spaniards had been killed (source of the Spanish head sent to Motecuzoma), but had
kept the news to himself not wanting his men to become demoralized. The battle had
been the result of a ploy by an Aztec chieftain by the name of Quauhpopoca who had
sent a message to Juan de Escalante, commander of the garrison, saying he wished to
come to offer his allegiance to the Spaniards. He asked, however, that four Spaniards be
sent to protect him from unfriendly tribes along the way.
De Escalante sent four men, two of them were murdered by Quauhpopoca, and two
managed to return to Vera Cruz. De Escalante immediately marched on Quauhpopoca's
camp with fifty men; a fierce battle ensued in which the native allies fled leaving the
Spaniards on their own. Discipline and firepower saved the day, but not before at least
seven Spaniards were killed.
The council agreed with Cortés' proposal. He then ordered his men to guard the main
accesses to the palace and gave instructions to twenty five others to wander over to
Motecuzoma's palace in groups of three and four at a time,looking as casual as passible.
As Cortés had issued orders earlier that hismen were to be fully armed and combat ready
at all times, the fact that they were in full armor should not surprise or alert anyone. As
his own escort he chose Pedro de Alvarado, Francisco de Lujo, Juan Velasquez de Leon,
Gonzalo de Sandoval, and Alonso de Avila, five of his best and most daring
commanders.
Motecuzoma willingly granted them an audience and conversation proceeded as usual
through the interpreters. As was his custom, the emperor gave them gold and jewels as
presents. On this occasion, however, he even went so far as to offer one of his daughters
as a wife for Cortés. The Spaniard declined politiely indicating that he already had a wife
in Cuba and his religion forbade him to have more than one. When Cortés saw that
enough of his men were in the vicinity, he changed his tone and presented the emperor
with the facts of the attack by Quauhpopoca and implied that it had taken place under his
orders. Motecuzoma was taken aback by the accusation and denied any complicity.
Cortes suggested that Quauhpopoca be brought to Tenochtitlan for questioning and
justice. Motecuzoma agreed and, taking a signet jewel from his wrist, gave it to one of his
commanders to request Quauhpopoca‘s presence in the capital.
Cortés said he believed Motecuzoma, but suggested, that until the matter could be
cleared up the emperor move his residence to the Spaniards'quarters as a sign to them
and their sovereign of his innocence and personal regard. Motecuzoma blanched, then
reacted with anger stating that it was unheard of that a great monarch should voluntarily
become a prisoner of strangers. Cortés tried to sweeten the bitter pill by saying that it
was only a change of residence and the emperor would not be a prisoner but a guest with
all the symbols and trappings of his power. Motecuzoma pointed out that even if he
should consent, his people would never tolerate such a degradation. The discussion
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went on for two hours with little progress. Finally, losing patience, Velasquez de Leon
recommended they take the emperor by force and if he resisted they should run him
through with their swords. The emperor was alarmed by the Spaniard's angry tone and
mien, and inquired of doña Marina what had been said. The interpreter suggested that
Motecuzoma go with the white men who would treat him with kindness, rather than risk
being subjected to violence and possibly death if he were to refuse. Motecuzoma caved
in and ordered his litter to transfer him to the Spaniards' quarters.
As the procession moved through the courtyards, people began to gather and the rumor
ran through the crowd that the emperor was being abducted by the Spaniards.
Motecuzoma wanted to appear as if he was going of his own free will and told the
gathered Aztecs he was merely visiting his friends. Upon arriving at his new quarters, he
sent several of his nobles to reassure his people of his safety. Motecuzoma had sealed
his fate with his own lips and robbed his people of a valid excuse for rising up against the
Spaniards. True to his word, Cortes insisted and demanded his men treat the emperor
with all the dignity and respect he deserved. Within a few days Quauhpopoca arrived
accompanied by his son and fifteen of his chiefs. Motecuzoma received him coldly and
turned him over to the Spaniards for questioning. Quauhpopoca denied nothing and did
not implicate Motecuzoma in the responsibility for the attack on the Spaniards.
Quauhpopoca and his followers were sentenced to death; informed of their sentence,
they then said they had been acting under the emperor's orders. Cortés obtained the
emperor's permission to collect stores of javelins, arrows and other weapons from
arsenals kept near the great Teocalli and used them to build a pyre upon which the
sentenced Aztecs were to be burnt. He would get rid of both the prisoners and the
weapons that could be used to defend them. He also had the emperor put in irons as
retribution for the crime against the Spaniards. Motecuzoma was crushed by this, the
ultimate insult and humiliation.
Meanwhile, the execution was being carried out in the courtyard before an astonished
crowd that believed it had been ordered by the emperor. The victims bore their fate with
dignity, and soon it was all over. The sentence fulfilled, Cortés personally removed the
fetters from the emperor expressing regret that such an action had been necessary.
Unbelievably, Motecuzoma actually thanked him. Shortly afterwards, Cortés told the
emperor he could return to his palace if he wished. Motecuzoma declined saying that if
he did so he would not be able to stop his people from taking up arms against the
Spaniards and he wanted to avoid bloodshed.
It is hard to understand why Motecuzoma capitulated so completely. Testimony of
witnesses to the events gives no explanation of this submissive behavior on the part of
one who had been so haughty and arrogant until shortly before the arrival of the
Spaniards. Raised in the shadow of his powerful father, Motecuzoma may have been
afflicted with great feelings of unworthiness and Insecurity, which might help explain his
need for the pomp and ceremony that forced his subjects to humble themselves in his
presence. This does not seem to have affected his ability as a warrior, having actually
distinguished himself in the field. On the other hand, Motecuzoma had also been an
Aztec priest, and was steeped in the beliefs and prophesies of his religion. He was, in
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fact, almost obsessed with trying to interpret signs and their relationship to the
prophecies. Much of what he said and his related behavior seem to indicate that he
genuinely believed the Spaniards were the emissaries of Quetzalcoatl who, according to
the ancient prophecies, would come to bring the empire to an end and would rule over
the land. On one occasion, he even told Cortés "I have served you well." His deference
towards the Spaniards would seem to support this point of view.
Strong beliefs can cause a detachment from reality in which the true believer sees and
hears only what is in agreement with those beliefs and refuses to accept the evidence of
his senses. Columbus sailed about the New World, but navigated through Asia in his
mind. Motecuzoma walked among Spaniards, but communed in his mind with the
descendants of QuetzalcoatL Having feared the arrival of the strangers and the portents
that announced their coming, and knowing that they (according to the prophecies) would
rule over the land, he may have felt relief at finally having the burden of command lifted
from his shoulders. Whatever his reasons, Motecuzoma seemed to shrink in the
presence of the Spaniards and never regained his regal mien.
With the emperor under his control, Cortés took further action to protect his options in the
event of an uprising. Wanting to keep his lifeline to Spain open, he sent Gonzalo de
Sandoval , one of his best men, to Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz to replace de Escalante
who had been killed in the combat with Quauhpopoca.. Concerned by the Aztecs' ability
to control access to the causeways in and out of Tenochtitlan, he decided to offset this to
some degree by building two small brigantines that would enable him to move his troops
at will across the lake. He instructed Sandoval to send him rope, sails, and
metal saved from the original fleet. Motecuzoma was delighted by the opportunity to see
the white man's ―acalis‖ or ―water houses‖, and allowed timber to be taken from his royal
forests for this project, which was placed under the direction of experienced ship-builder
Martin Lopez.
Cortés and his men made every effort to make Motecuzoma's stay at the old palace of
Axayacatl as pleasant and smooth as possible. The emperor enjoyed watching the
military maneuvers of the Spaniards, and came to know many of the troops by name and
rank. He also enjoyed the company of certain of the Spaniards, among them
Velasquez de Leon and Pedro de Alvarado whom the Aztecs referred to as ―Tonatiuh‖
or " The Sun," because of his blond hair and sunny disposition. Motecuzoma also
requested and obtained the attendance of a young Spanish page by the name of
Orteguilla who, as a result of his constant exposure to NahuatL the Aztec language,
learned enough to help in translation.
When the brigantines were completed,Cortés took the emperor on board to witness a
display of Spanish nautical skills. But, not all was sweetness and light in the relationship
between the Spaniards and their increasingly unwilling hosts. The Aztec nobles and
common folk could not understand Motecuzoma's submissiveness. There was no doubt
in their minds that the emperor was being held by the Spaniards. Several of the nobles,
including the young Revered Speaker of Texcoco, Cacama, who had first greeted the
Spaniards upon their arrival in the valley, had refused to accept the Spanish
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influence.
When Motecuzoma swore allegiance to the Spanish monarch and then sent his tax
collectors, accompanied by Spanish soldiers, to exact a special tribute from cities and
provinces for the purpose of sending it to Spain as a token of good will, the discontent
among the peoples of Anahuac became ever more acute. The gold and silver collected
on this trip were further increased by Motecuzoma's donation of the treasure of
Axayacatl. When all this wealth was gathered in one room, it was more than had ever
been seen in the New World and did not fail to excite sentiments of greed among the
Spaniards
It took three days to melt down most of the collected pieces converting them into ingots
stamped with the royal arms. When weighed, the royal fifth equaled 32, 400 pesos de
oro. The total came to 162,000 pesos de oro, not including the unmelted pieces and other
jewelry estimated at 500, 000 ducats, plus approximately five hundred marks of silver and
silver objects. The division of the spoils was complicated by the various agreements
made earlier in the expedition by which Cortés was entitled to another fifth; in addition, he
and Velasquez, the governor of Cuba, were owed a large amount to indemnify them for
the costs of the expedition as well as the loss of their ships. Each of the principal captains
was to receive larger shares, as did the cavalry, crossbowmen and arquebusiers who
were entitled to double pay.
A portion also had to be set aside for the men at Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz. After all the
special portions had been allocated, this left only one hundred pesos oro for each of the
rank and file. "For this we left our homes and suffered so much?" was the comment
made by many of the men, some of whom were so incensed that they refused to accept
that amount. To make matters worse, Mexia, the Crown Treasurer, and Velasquez de
Leon got into a sword fight over division of the spoils with the latter being accused of
having illegally appropriated some of the finer gold pieces. They were excellent
swordsmen and several wounds were inflicted on both before Cortes had them arrested
to stop the duel.
It took all of Cortés' skill with words to calm the disgruntled troops. He told them the
division had been fair; if they felt otherwise, he was willing to share his portion with the
poorest of them. He reminded them of their glorious deeds and shamed them for their
inglorious behavior in squabbling over mere material possessions when they were still in
the midst of an enemy who could take advantage of any perceived weakness to crush
them. With these carefully chosen words and a few selected gifts, he managed to calm
things down for the time being; but, such resentments tend to linger for a long time and
resurfaced in many different ways over the ensuing days and years.
Actually, it might not have mattered how much each soldier received as most of the
troops were inveterate gamblers and many would soon have lost their shares at cards.
These men lived for each day without much thought to the long term; had they been of a
different character, they probably would not have joined the expedition in the first place.
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Nevertheless, feeling cheated did not help their morale, and Cortés had to add this to his
many other problems.
A source of mounting irritation to the Spaniards was the fact that the Aztecs continued to
practice their bloody rituals at the great Teocali. None seemed more affected by this than
Cortés who saw such rituals as abominations and truly wanted to convert the natives to
Christianity. Driven by his faith and the genuine desire to his monarch's directive to save
the souls of all the peoples of the new lands, Cortés approached Motecuzoma with a
proposal. He suggested the Spaniards be allowed to take their faith beyond the walls of
Axayacatl‘s palace to share its light and blessings with all of the people of Tenochtitlan by
taking over the great Teocalli to conduct Chrisitian services
before the eyes of all the citizens. Much as he was inclined to want to help Cortés and
the Spaniards in every way, Motecuzoma was very disturbed by this request and pointed
out the possibility of an insurrection if such a profanation were to take place.
Seeing Motecuzoma's reaction, Cortés asked his men to leave him alone with the
emperor. He told the emperor that he would try to temper the zeal of his men. Perhaps,
he said, they would be willing to accept a compromise: why not give the Christians just
one of the temples at the top of the great Teocali. On the other hand, if this were not
done, Cortés warned he might not be able to restrain his men from taking the Teocali by
force and destroying the images of the Aztec gods. He reinforced his arguments by
saying that, although they were few in number, the Spaniards feared not for their
lives as they knew they were protected by their God.
After consulting with his priests, Motecuzoma acquiesced and the Spaniards were
allowed to use one of the sanctuaries for their ceremonies. With all the pomp and
circumstance they could muster, Cortes and his followers celebrated a solemn mass in
the cleansed and redecorated sanctuary atop the great Teocali. It was a highly emotional
moment for the Spaniards. As tears ran down their ruddy cheeks, the proud
warriors knelt in humble adoration of their God proclaiming their faith before the eyes of
the startled Aztec population.
It was too much for the Aztecs. The foreigners had taken over the center of their city, held
their emperor prisoner, confiscated his treasure, imprisoned and executed his captains,
and now had offended their gods desecrating their temple with a new and strange god.
Before long, the effect became noticeable. The gentle Motecuzoma turned sullen and
moody, avoiding rather than seeking out the Spaniards. He held many secret meetings
with his nobles and priests, excluding Orteguilla from them, Soon, Motecuzoma
summoned Cortes to a meeting. Cortés, not unaware of the changing mood, showed up
with his captain of the guard, Cristobal de Olid, and a few of his officers. They recevied
coldly by Motecuzoma who, with a severe expression, told them his predictions had come
true; the gods were offended. The priests had been told by the gods that the city and its
people would be forsaken if the strangers who had desecrated their temple did not leave,
or were not sacrificed on their altars to compensate for these indignities. The emperor
warned them that he had only to lift his finger and every Aztec in the land would rise
against them. It was only out of concern for the Spaniards' safety that he chose to
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counsel them to leave before their lives were forfeit. With typical presence of mind,
Cortés handled the situation coolly and replied that he would not like to leave so quickly
given that he and his men had no ships to take them back home. He made it clear that, if
he were forced to leave under these conditions, he would have to take the emperor with
him. Motecuzoma asked how long it would take to build new ships, and agreed to send
Aztec workmen to the coast to assist the Spaniards in building their ships. He would, in
the meantime, do his best to restrain his subjects from venting their anger and
frustrations upon the Spaniards. The Aztec artisans departed the capital for Villa Rica de
la Vera' Cruz accompanied by Spanish boat builders. Work commenced at once and
proceeded apparently rapidly, but not quite so in reality. Cortés had given instructions to
create delays in the hope that reinforcements would arrive from Europe. In the meantime,
the Spaniards in Tenochtitlan slept with their armor on and their weapons at their side.
NARVAEZ.
As Cortés expected, Diego de Velasquez had not been idly waiting for him to return. The
governor, aware of the treasures sent by Cortés to Spain, began to mount a second
expedition under the command of Pánfilo de Narvaez. The new commander had
participated in the conquest and subjugation of Cuba proving himself to be almost
foolishly brave; he was also overconfident, arrogant and somewhat neglectful in matters
of basic military discipline. Word of the treasures of Mexico had spread among the
Spanish population of the island and it was not difficult with promises of liberal rewards to
recruit a large following for the effort. In fact, one of the concerns was that the incentive
so great the island might be almost entirely depopulated of white males.
Finally, an expeditionary force comprised of eighteen ships of varying sizes and nine
hundred men left Cuba in March of 1520. The army included one hundred and fifty
crossbow men, eighty arquebusiers and an equal number of cavalry; several heavy guns
and large amounts of ammunition and supplies filled the holds of the armada. On April
23, the fleet reached San Juan de Ulua where Cortés had first landed. There, the new
expeditionaries encountered one of Cortés' Spaniards who was conducting a survey of
the country's mineral and other resources. Coming aboard the command ship, this
veteran brought de Narvaez and his companions up to date on all of Cortés‘
achievements from the victory over the Tlaxcalans to the seizure of Motecuzoma; he
closed his narrative with the statement that Cortés ruled over the land, and a Spaniard
could walk from one end to another unmolested. De Narvaez was incensed by what he
deemed as Cortés' treachery, and the treasures he had taken which should have gone to
Velasquez. Making no bones about his feelings, he publicly announced his intention to
march against Cortés to punish him for his disloyalty to the governor. One of his
lieutenants, Salvatierra by name, was of a fierce nature and, carried away by his
passions, spoke hotly of how he would personally deal with Cortés and all the other
traitors. The local natives who had shown up in droves to see the new Spaniards, quickly
detected the hostile intentions of this group with regard to the earlier arrivals and
promptly passed the word on into the interior where Motecuzoma was soon apprised of
these new developments.
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Against the advice of the veteran, Spaniard, de Narvaez decided to establish a
settlement at inhospitable San Juan de Ulua. Informed that another settlement already
existed at Villa Rica de IB Vera Cruz, de Narvaez also decided to send a delegation there
to demand the surrender of the garrison. Gonzalo de Sandoval was not asleep at his
post; he had been following the development of events at San Juan de Ulua, and decided
that they bode him and his men no well. Although the garrison was manned by mostly
older and disabled soldiers, de Sandoval strengthen the defenses, and rallied his men
about him. To further fortify his men's resolution, he had a gallows built in the center of
town as a warning to possible deserters.
A six man delegation arrived before the gates of Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz. A priest,
Father Guevara, accompanied by four military men and a notary headed an embassy.
Guevara launched into an official peroration censuring Cortes and his followers for their
disloyalty to Velasquez and, with great pomposity, demanded the immediate submission
of de Sandoval and his men to the authority of Narvaez. De Sandoval was angered by
the cleric's cavalier words and tone, and told him that only his profession protected him
from harsh treatment. This only infuriated Guevara who stomped his foot, and told de
Sandoval in no uncertain terms to comply immediately with his demands. Not one to be
intimidated by pompous stomping clerics, de Sandoval replied that if Guevara really
wanted the garrison surrendered he ought to deliver that message directly to Cortés. De
Sandoval told the haughty priest he would help him accomplish that end; accompanied
by a guard of twenty Spaniards, Guevara and his companions were tied up and carried to
Tenochtitlan on the backs of native porters.
In the interim, Motecuzoma had summoned Cortes to notify him that it was no longer
necessary for him to build new ships as some had already arrived in which he and his
companions could return to their country. Hiding his real emotions from Motecuzoma,
Cortßs rejoiced and praised God for this "wonderful" turn of events. When Cortés' men
heard the news, they celebrated with shouts of joy and fired the cannon. Cortés knew
better; he suspected the newcomers were not friends but foes, and passed the word onto
his commanders who leaked the information back to the troops. Celebration quickly
turned into concern. It was into the middle of all this turmoil and doubt that the envoys
sent from Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz arrived.
The travelers had halted outside of Tenochtitlan sending a messenger ahead with
the letter from Sandoval. Cortés immediately ordered the envoys be released from
their bonds and given horses to ride into the city. Upon their arrival, he quickly apologized
for the rough treatment they had been subjected to by his officers. Cortßs set about
charming the envoys with courtesy and lavish presents. Soon, he had turned them into
friends and began to pry important information from them. Details about Narvaez and his
men began to emerge. Narvaez‘s men had no quarrel with Cortés or his men, and would
be willing to cooperate with them in the one thing they all desired, the pursuit of gold and
treasure. They had no high regard for Narvaez whom they considered t be arrogant and
tightfisted. Cortés sent the envoys back to Narvaez with a conciliatory letter pointing out
the disadvantages and dangers of any violent confrontation between them and offering to
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share everything with Narvaez, even to the extent of serving under him -- provided he
could produce a royal commission confirming his authority.
He later sent Father Olmed as his personal emissary to Narvaez with another letter in the
same vein as the first. The good father, who had shown so much common sense and
practicality throughout the campaign, was also charged with speaking privately with
Andres de Duero (former secretary to Velasquez and Cortés' personal friend) and other
key officers of Narvaez' force. To enhance these conversations, Corts equipped the
clever cleric with a generous supply of gold. Although Narvaez reacted negatively to both
letters, contemptuously castigating Cortés, and belittling his accomplishments, the two
clerics, Guevara and Olmedo, painted a very different picture of the conqueror, his
treatment of his men and his liberality. Guevara had been shown only the sunny side of
the situation; Olmedo knew better, but used the eloquence of word and gold to sway the
allegiance of Narvaez' men. Narvaez was not unaware of Olmedo's efforts and would
have arrested him had it not been for Duero who persuaded him to simply return the
cleric to Cortés.
Narvaez was not as cautious as his situation required him to be. While still camped at
San de Ulua, he had received gifts and support from Motecuzoma who he had promised
to liberate; as a result, the camp was often filled with natives bringing food, rendering
services, and just lounging about watching the ever fascinating white Teules. Gonzalo de
Sandoval, the commander at Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz, kept a close watch over
Narvaez. On one occasion, he disguised two of his darker skinned Spaniards as native
bearers, and sent them to spy on the camp at San Juan de Ulua. They arrived bearing a
load of plums on their backs, and had the audacity to go directly to the tent of the fiery
Salvatierra who traded them some yellow beads for the plums. Seeing them still
Standing around, Salvatierra ordered them to cut some grass for his horse. The
disguised Spaniards spent the afternoon bringing loads of grass for Salvatierra's horse.
When evening came, they squatted on their heels inside a hut, just like the natives did,
and waited around watching and listening carefully. They overheard Salvatierra tell
Narvaez that the expedition had arrived at just the right time to take all the gold and
treasures that the "traitor" Corés had collected. When darkness fell and the camp quieted
down, the two spies saddled and bridled Salvatierra's horse, and rode off on it; a short
distance away they found another horse and took it too. Salvatierra became the laughing
stock of his camp, particularly when it was discovered that not only had he lost his horse,
but that the thieves had been the same Spanish "traitors" he had vowed to wreak such
havoc upon.
Narvaez did not gain any popularity among the natives when, after he decided to move
his camp to Cempoalla, he and his men forced the fat cacique to give up the gifts of gold
and blankets that Cortés had left them. In addition to robbing from the Cempoallans and
nearby tribes, they also took the young women who had been given to Cortés and his
men but left in the care of the fat cacique.
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It was time for Cortés to act. He decided t leave Tenochtitlan and prepare to take the field
against Narvaez. He went to say his goodbyes to Motecuzoma whose cheerfulness had
returned with the news of Narvaez's arrival. The emperor expressed courteous concern
for Cortés' fate going up against an army of teules almost five times the size of his own
force. In his usual manner, Cortés put on a cool front, calmly smiling and reassuring
Motecuzoma that God was on his side and he would soon return bringing the others as
prisoners. Cortés and Motecuzoma embraced, and the emperor even offered the
assistance of five thousand warriors which Cortés declined (he didn‘t expect the promise
to be kept, nor could he trust the assistance if received). The garrison in Tenochtitlan,
totaling some eighty men including fourteen arquebusiers, eight crossbow men, five
horses, some bronze cannon and all the available gunpowder,
left under tne command of Pedro de Alvarado, Tonatiuh, as the Aztecs called him. On
May 4th, 1520, Cortés and his seventy men left Tenochtitlan marching without native
servants or women; they could afford no encumbrances to their maneuverability. Cortes
requested supplies and five thousand warriors from Tlaxcala. They sent the supplies, and
twenty loads of hens, but no warriors. The chroniclers of the period do not provide us with
enough information to determine if the word "chicken" had the same connotation then as
now; the Tlaxcalans did clearly state that they would be willing to fight against other
natives, but not against other Teules armed with cannon and crossbow men.
Arriving in Xolula, Cortés received reinforcements from Juan de Velasquez who
arrived from a scouting mission with one hundred and fifty Spaniards. Another one
hundred and ten men were brought in by Rodrigo de Rangel who was on a similar
mission in Xinantla. About sixty miles out of Xolula, they encountered Father Olmedo
returning from Narvaez' camp; the shrewd priest shared his reservations and news with
Cortés, including the fact that Motecuzoma and Narvaez were in direct communication
with one another. Among Cortés' men was one named Tovilla who had been in Italy
during military campaigns there, and was a competent spearsman. Cortes sent Tovilla to
meet with the Xinanteca tribesmen who were renowned for their especially long spears,
which they used with great effectiveness in combat. Tovilla was instructed to obtain three
hundred of these spears, but to have the tips changed from obsidian to copper heads of a
special design; these were intended for use against Narvaez' cavalry.
As Cortés and his men were crossing the volcanic mountain areas on their way to the
coast, Tovilla returned with the special spears. There, too, they were joined by Sandoval
and another sixty men. While camped at Mitlancuauhtla, Tovilla trained the troops in the
use of the long spears following the practices employed by the Swiss Pikemen in
defeating European cavalry. Cortés took stock of his forces; not counting scouts sent out
on missions to various locations, and some men not well enough for combat, he had two
hundred and sixty six men with a few muskets and crossbows, two small guns and only
five horses.
The men's armor was in sad disrepair, most of it being of the Indian quilt variety and that
often torn and ragged; it was good enough to stop arrows but not musket balls. He had
one definite advantage, however, his men were seasoned combat veterans who knew
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their mettle and trusted their commander. Cortés decided to attack Narvaez, but first
there were a few details he must attend to. He knew the conditions of Narvaez' camp,
and a few desertions from among those ranks had given him some idea of the morale
and loyalty of his opponents men. Now, he needed to determine that of some of his own
followers.
He called Juan Velasquez de Leon, a relation and former follower of Governor
Velasquez, and shared with him rumors emanating from Narvaez' camp that if Velasquez
de Leon were to abandon Cortés it would be the end for him. Laughingly, Cortés told him
that since the enemy expected him to join them, he should ride into their
camp on his best horse, and wearing all his gold to see what he could find out and then
come back. He told Velasquez he especially wanted him to wear a long, heavy chain of
gold which his companions had dubbed La Fanfarrona (The Show-Off). Cortes even
offered to give him additional gold to take. Velasquez refused to accept Cortés' gold, or
to take all his own gold and jewels, but agreed to wear La Fanfarrona around his neck
and coiled in a double loop around one of his arms. Cortés told him to hurry back,
because as soon as he returned he also wanted to send Diego de Ordas (who had been
the governor's secretary) on a similar mission.
Cortés had gained Velasquez de Leon's loyalty earlier through his generosity and
camaraderie, but that had been while there was really no other option, and this
courageous captain was still the governor's relative. If he was going to switch sides, it
was better to find out now than later when the damage could be much greater. In fairness
to Velasquez, he was giving him the option to take all his treasure and leave unhindered.
Oh the other hand, Cortés knew his army was composed of volunteers and equals who
always had the option to choose their commitments. Two hours after Velasquez had
left, Cortes ordered his drummer, Canillas, and his fifer, Benit de Beger, to sound the call.
To Gonzalo de Sandoval, who was Captain and Chief Constable, he gave the order to
march to Cempoalla.
That night, the army slept by a small stream while scouts and spies were sent out t patrol
the area. Juan Velasquez de Leon, accompanied by one of Cortes' orderlies, Juan del
Rio, made good time and arrived at Cempoalla by dawn. He stopped first at the house of
tine fat cacique, and from there went t Narvaez' headquarters. Narvaez and his staff
received Velasquez with embraces and offered to bring his luggage, if
he had any, to headquarters. Velasquez replied that he had to leave shortly, but had
come to see how he could mediate a peace agreement between Cortés and Narvaez.
The offer was not well received, and Narvaez referred to Cortes as a traitor. Velasquez
refuted the statement by indicating that Cortes had been a faithful servant of the King,
and should not be labeled a traitor. While the two argued and bantered, many of the men
of the camp came forward to greet and embrace Velasquez, not failing to notice La
Fanfarrona in all its golden splendor. Narvaez was counseled by some of his men to
arrest Velasquez, but was persuaded by Andres de Duero and others who had been
touched by Cortés‘ gold to invite him to dinner instead.
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Things did not improve during dinner, as one of the guests was a Diego de Velasquez,
nephew of the governor, who took Velasquez de Leon to task for his "betrayal". Swords
were drawn, and would have been used had it not been for several of the captains who
interposed themselves between the would be combatants. Velasquez was allowed to
leave the following morning. Cortés could not have planned the whole episode better.
In the meantime, Cortés and his men had advanced t the banks of the Rio de Canoas,
normally a stream, but at this time swollen by rain to a mighty current that totally blocked
their path. The rainy season was in full force with the humidity and the heat taking their
toll among the men.
Concerned about the approach of Cortés and his army, but not knowing exactly where
and when they would appear, Narvaez and his force had also advanced t the Rio de
Canoas. Unable to see Cortes, and tired of waiting and soaking in the downpour,
Narvaez' lieutenants convinced him that it made no sense to wear themselves out by
staying there when they could return to Cempoalla and come back fresh in the morning.
Narvaez agreed, but first he posted two sentinels near the river to sound the alarm if the
enemy should approach; he also sent a cavalry detachment in another direction to cover
a different approach. He set up his quarters for the night at a local Teocalli. The ascent
of the pyramid could only be made by a steep staircase that ran up one side. Atop the
pyramid he stationed crossbow men and arquebusiers, and at the base he placed a
strong infantry force. Nearby teocallis were occupied by other infantry. Seventeen guns
were emplaced below, guarded by the rest of the cavalry.
Cortés had made up his mind to attack that night. The stream had turned into a raging
current. A ford was found, but rocks were slippery and often rolled away. Using their long
pikes, the men managed to wade across the furious torrent, but two men were swept
away. On the other side they encountered deep mud and tangled underbrush. They also
found a large wooden cross they had erected at this site on their first trip towards
Tenochtitlan. This they saw as a good omen. Earlier that day, Cortés had addressed his
men with a stirring harangue. The energy from that exhortation had carried them through
the night and across the swollen river; but they were tired now. Father Olmedo referred to
the cross as a holy sign that their arms would be blessed with victory if they had faith and
confessed their sins. This they did, and feeling replenished in spirit, they embraced one
another and vowed to defeat their enemy.
Cortés assigned an officer by the name of Pizarro to lead sixty men and take the enemy's
artillery. To Sandoval, he gave the charge of capturing Narvaez. Cortés offered a reward
of three thousand pesos to first man to lay hands on Narvaez, two thousand to the next,
and one thousand to the third. Velasquez was given another contingent of men and the
instructions to arrest young Diego de Velasquez with whom he had quarreled earlier.
Diego de Ordas was assigned the capture of the boastful Salvatierra. Cortés kept
twenty men with himself as a ready reserve to reinforce whomever might need it. Those
who had horses dismounted, and the rest unburdened themselves of any unnecessary
baggage. Cortés gave them one final word of advice about the importance of obedience,
cautioning them about the need to stay with their units and follow their officers with
energy and silence.
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The army followed its orders so well that it came upon the two sentries without
being detected; one was captured, but the other got away and ran to alert the
camp. Amazingly, no one would believe him, attributing his alarm to storm noises in the
night. Cortés, unaware that the camp was not up in arms, quickened the pace of his
men. As they approached the camp, he saw a light atop the Teocalli and guessed this
was Narvaez' headquarters. To Sandoval he pointed out that thr light was to be his
beacon. As Cortés and his men entered Cempoalla, they were surprised that no one
seemed aware of their presence. But such a large contingent of men marching through
the streets could not remain undetected for long, and soon the alarm rang out as men
buckled on their armor and ran to their guns and steeds.
Cortés' men rushed the enemy with such speed that the artillery only got off four round,
one of which killed three of Pizarro's men, but the rest captured the guns before they
could reload. The attack on the cavalry was so successful that several men were quickly
unhorsed; it also served as a diversion which allowed Sandoval t reach the Teocalli, and
sprint up the stairway until he was met by a hail of of arrows and musket balls. In the
darkness and confusion, the arquebusiers and crossbow men could not sight well, and
their fire was mostly ineffective. The assailants used their long pikes to great advantage
over the short swords of the defenders.
Narvaez might not have been the best and most alert leader, but he fought valiantly until
his standard bearer was run through and fell by his side, and the commander himself
suffered a blow from a spear which plucked out his left eye. 'I am slain", he screamed
and his men withdrew carrying him into the sanctuary, but one of the assailants tossed a
torch on the straw roof, which forced the defenders out. A soldier by the name of Pedro
Sanchez Farfan fell upon the unhappy Narvaez and forced him to the ground.
Cortés' men took up the cry of "Victory!" Cortes immediately issued a proclamation to all
of Narvaez' followers that they must surrender or suffer the penalty of death. In the dark
of the night, the defenders could only see the light of the fireflies in the bush and mistook
them for wicks used to fire muskets. Soon, it was all over. Cortés came into the building
where Narvaez had been taken and placed in irons. The victor was sweating heavily and
so out of breath from exertions and the heat, that he couldnt get a full sentence out; he
limited himself only to repeating "Narvaez. Where is Narvaez?" Reassured by Sandoval
that Narvaez was there and under control, Cortés left to attend to mopping-up operations.
There were still forty horsemen on the road who had not surrendered. Cortés decided to
negotiate; he sent a delegation composed of Cristobal de Olid and Diego de Ordas.
Accompanied by one of Narvaez' men, they went on foot (for they had brought no horses
with them) and followed a trail until they found the
horsemen. After long discussions and many promises, the horsemen accepted the
terms and surrendered. Back at Cempoalla, it was discovered that the fierce
Salvatierra had been so frightened by the surprise attack that he said he had become
sick to his stomach and was unable to put up any fight; so much for bravado. Cortés
had the wounded Narvaez, the "fierce" Salvatierra and a few others brought before him.
Narvaez told Cortes he should thank his lucky stars for the easy victory and capture.
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Cortés replied that indeed he had much to be thankful for, but that this day's victory was
the least of his accomplishments.
The morning after the combat, Narvaez' men began to rumble when they saw how
few and ragged their conquerors were. At this point, two thousand warriors that Cortés
had requested arrived from Xinantla. They marched through the camp in splendid array,
proudly carrying their long spears glistening with obsidian and copper tips. Their timing,
although late for the battle, could not have been better calculated to intimidate Narvaez‘‘
men with this measure of Cortés' ability to summon resources when needed. Cortes
thanked and rewarded them before sending them home.
He then ordered Francisco de Lugo to go to the port where Narvaez‘ eighteen ships were
at anchor, and instruct the officers of the fleet to come to Cempoalla and pledge their
allegiance to their new commander. He further ordered de Lugo to remove all sails,
compasses and rudders; he didn‘t want anyone returning to Cuba to alert the governor.
By Cortés' orders, Narvaez' men had been disarmed; he now ordered that their arms,
and all that had been taken from them, be returned. He also distributed gold and other
valuables found in the camp, which had originally been donated by local natives or taken
from them. The order to return arms and goods taken from Narvez' men by the victors,
and the distribution of gold and presents among the defeated now caused rumbles
among Cortes' men who deemed such actions unfair. Cortés said that he and all that he
owned were at his men's disposition, but that at this point it made sense to propitiate the
losers who easily outnumbered the victors, and could turn against them at any time.
Cortés now had under his command close to twelve hundred Spaniards, thirty or so guns,
ninety horses, eighteen ships, plenty of supplies and almost a million pesos de oro. Not
one to leave idle troops around for long, he promptly gave orders to Juan Velasquez de
Leon to take one hundred of Narvaez' mariners and twenty of his own men to conquer
and settle the region of Panuco further north on the Gulf of Mexico. To Diego de Ordas
he assigned one hundred and twenty soldiers with instructions to do the same in the
region of Coatzacoalcos. Hidden among the Narvaez' troops was a terrible weapon that
would wreak more devastation on the native population than any technological advance,
a black man suffering from smallpox.
Still enjoying the fruits and exhilaration of his amazing victory, Cortés sent a messenger
to Motecuzoma with the joyous (for Cortes) tidings. No sooner had the messenger
departed than two Talxcalans arrived from the capital with disastrous news. The
population of the city had risen against the Spaniards. Pedro de Alvarado and his men
were under siege in their fortress; seven Spaniards had been killed and many others
wounded. Reinforcements were desperately needed. Cortes sent messengers to
Velasquez de Leon and De Ordas to turn about and join the main forces which would
soon be on their way to Tenochtitlan. He also drew on the garrison at Vera Cruz, leaving
only one hundred men there. He gathered his men, both veterans and newcomers, and
gave them the facts as he knew them. He exhorted them to expend every effort in
rescuing their countrymen who were at risk in the heart of the fairest city in the land,
which they would also lose (and with it everything else they had gained as it was the
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center that directed the entire country) if they did not act promptly. The men reacted
favorably and were even eager to take on this new challenge; little could they imagine
how great a price they would pay for it.
The army set out for Tlaxcala by forced marches; along the way the men ran short of
food and water as they crossed some of the thinly settled areas. The men suffered
greatly and some fell by the wayside. Cortés sent a horse contingent ahead to bring back
supplies, which helped restore strength and energy to the weakened troops. In Tlaxcala,
they were well received and Cortés was lodged in the house Maricatzin, one of the four
governors of the city. Further news of the revolt gave a clearer understanding of its cause
and the events leading up to it. It seems the Aztecs had been preparing for one of their
annual feasts, Toxcatl, in honor of the god Texcatlipoca.
The high point of the feast would be the sacrifice of a physically and spiritually flawless
youth chosen a year in advance. The youth would be treated like a god during the last
year of his life. As the living representation of Texcatlipoca, the youth would go about, his
waist length hair covered with flowers, greeting all passers by with great grace and being
treated equally by all He received the choicest and most tender morsels. He was taught
to play musical instruments and to sing and dance. The instruments he played during
that year would be collected and destroyed by him on the day of his sacrifice. Twenty
days before the feast, his hair would be cut short and four specially trained beautiful
maidens would be assigned to him as consorts, to make his last days a festival of carnal
delights.
On the last day, the young women would leave him, and he would be led to the great
Teocalli He would climb the steps breaking one of his flutes on each step until he
reached the top and the eagle dish where he was to be sacrificed. At the last step and
after the last flute had been broken, he would be seized by five priests, taken to the
sacrificial stone. There, his stall throbbing heart would be carved out of his body to be
placed before the ferocious looking idol of Texcatlipoca. The body would be carried
down the steps, the head would be cut off and placed on a ceremonial pole called the
Tzonpantli. After the sacrifice, tine nobles would join in dances honoring Texcatlipoca.
Concurrently, and to not offend an equally important god, another youth would be
sacrificed to Huitzilipochtli, and his head would also be placed on a Tzonpantli near the
other.
Before Cortés' departure for the coast, Motecuzoma had approached him for
permission to celebrate the Toxcatl festival; he later asked the same thing of Alvarado.
The Spaniards had approved, but with their usual reservations about human sacrifice
which the Aztecs promptly ignored. Preparations began for the festival; these involved
the participation of certain numbers of chiefs and warriors who would be key members of
the ceremonies. Alvarado watched the preparations with growing alarm believing that, if
Cortés was defeated by Narvaez, Motecuzoma would fall upon him and his small
garrison. Alvarado's paranoia was not helped by the fact that the Aztecs stopped their
food supplies, and began mistreating the Spaniards' native servants when they attempted
to procure them.
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The decisive statement may have been made unwittingly by an Aztec priest who
responded with joyful malice to Alvarado's inquiry about the poles being erected, saying
that they were meant to be used to place the Spaniards' heads upon after they had been
killed. Alvarado took the threat seriously and immediately seized a young prince of
Motecuzoma's. As soon as this was known by the populace, it triggered the rebellion.
He then rushed to the Teocalli, and captured the two young men who had been prepared
for sacrifice. Under torture they admitted that, as soon as the twenty-day long festival
was over, the Aztecs would crush the Spaniards.
Alvarado decided to act; following the Spanish adage of "He who strikes first, strikes
twice", on May 16th of 1520, he led a detachment of Spaniards against the unarmed
Aztecs collected at the Teocalli celebrating the festival in their magnificent finery
of feathered capes, jewelry and gold. It was a massacre; at least six hundred
celebrants, many of them nobles and chiefs, were killed and many more wounded.
The Aztecs regrouped and assaulted the fortress in an attack that lasted until
dark. The attack was so fierce that the Spaniards feared they would not survive.
Motecuzoma appeared on a terrace and attempted to calm the mob; he advised Alvarado
to free the imprisoned prince, suggesting that this would calm the people. It had the
reverse effect (which Motecuzoma may have suspected when he made the suggestion);
the prince returned the following day with a mighty force, and mounted a terrible attack.
The Aztecs filled the streets and terraces with warriors, and the canals were jammed tight
with war canoes. Alvarado made Motecuzoma address the crowd again from a terrace.
The Aztecs demanded the emperor's release. Imprudently, Alavarado put his dagger to
Motecuzoma's heart and threatened to kill him if the crowd did not disperse. The Aztecs
did not attack, but kept up the siege; they also destroyed the brigantines Cortés had built
as an alternative to relying on the drawbridges for escape.
Cortés took stock of his forces. He had approximately a thousand foot soldiers, including
a hundred arquebusiers and an equal number of crossbow men, nearly a hundred horse,
and two thousand Tlaxcalan warriors. Leaving Tlaxcala, the army continued at forced
marches over the rough terrain of the mountain range, finally descending into the fertile
Valley of Mexico. After resting briefly at Texcoco, the army continued its march into
Tenochtitlan where it arrived on the feast of Saint John the Baptist, June 24th, 1520. The
scene was totally different from the reception on their first entry int the capital. No
dignitaries greeted them, gone were the crowds and the hundreds of canoes; a sullen,
hostile silence accompanied them along the causeway with implications far greater than
they could imagine at the time. Cortés had the trumpets sound a fanfare, which was
returned by a joyful gun salvo from the beleaguered garrison.
The streets of Tenochtitlan might have been those of a ghost town; the hooves of the
horses echoed lonely through the empty avenues. When they approached the palace of
Axayacatl, the great gates were opened and Cortés and his men rushed in. Old
companions and newcomers embraced one another sharing the relief of safe haven and
reinforcement. Motecuzoma came into the courtyard to greet Cortes, but the Spaniard
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hardly determined him; the emperor sadly returned to his quarters. Cortés immediately
began an inquiry into the causes of the uprising. He talked with a number of the soldiers
and captains, and listened attentively to their explanations.
The blame was placed upon the Aztecs for conspiring to use their feast as a cover for an
uprising. Several of Alvarado‘s men spoke up in defense of Motecuzoma who they
said had calmed the attacking Aztecs. When Alvarado described the situation leading up
to the massacre, Cortes listened with great care, and interrupted him asking why he had
attacked the natives when they were in the midst of their dancing and celebrating.
Alvarado characterized his action as what today would be called a pre-emptive strike. He
had received word of an Aztec plan to attack right after the festivities ended. Cortés
reminded Alvarado that he had granted the Aztecs permission to hold their celebration.
Alvarado responded that he had done so in order to catch them off guard and inflict such
damage that they would fear to attack the garrison.
Pedro De Alvarado
The Disaster of “La Noche Triste”
After listening to Alvarados explanation of the events, Cortés sharply reprimanded him for
his poor handling of the situation. Cortés was furious and left before he would say more
than might be prudent under the circumstances. Alvarado‘s poor judgment had totally
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disrupted all of his plans. Cortés had made many statements to Narvaez' officers about
his popularity and influence among the Aztecs. Now, not only had they been poorly
received, but were under siege. To make matters worse, the markets had closed and
they were unable to get food. At first, they had also been without water, but the
ingenious Spaniards had dug a well and found a good source of drinking water. As food
became scarcer and the situation showed no signs of improving, Cortés" mood turned
even darker. Motecuzoma sent several of his chieftains to request an audience with him,
but Cortés treated them discourteously and, in speaking to his own officers, he twice
referred to the emperor as a "dog". Turning to tine Aztecs, he instructed them to tell their
emperor to order the markets reopened, and threatened retaliation if they did not. De
Olid, Velasquez de Leon and De Avila remonstrated with Cortés reminding him that
Motecuzoma had been instrumental in saving the garrison from extermination during the
uprising. But Cortés would not be placated, and continued to rail against the Aztec
monarch. The tone and content of Cortes' statements were clearly understood by
Motecuzomafe emmissaries who withdrew fc- inform their emperor of tine Spaniard's
anger. Nevertheless, Cortés did later agree to Motecuzoma's suggestion that
Cuitlahuac, Lord of Iztapalapan, be released; it was hoped that the Aztec noble would be
of help in quelling the uprising. That hope was dashed when Cuitlahuac, presumptive
heir to the Aztec crown and an experienced warrior, was chosen by the people as
Motecuzoma's temporary replacement, and charged with organizing their military efforts.
The impact of this decision was soon felt by the Spaniards. Cortés had just finished
sending off a messenger to the garrison at Villa Rica notifying them of his safe arrival in
Tenochtitlan, when the messenger returned covered with wounds and terrified by what he
had seen. The Aztecs were attacking and would soon be upon them. Within minutes, a
distant rumble had become a loud roar and the streets and rooftops were filled with Aztec
warriors. Stones and arrows rained down upon the appalled defenders in such
quantities that it became difficult to walk over them without tripping. One of the defenders
later testified that forty cartloads of arrows were picked up and burnt each day of the
siege. With a shrill whistle and a hideous yell, the confused masses of Aztec
warriors hurled themselves upon the Spanish positions.
Cortés ordered his thirteen cannon to hold their fire until the enemy warriors were within
close range. At that point, artillery and arquebuses cut loose mowing down row after row
of attacking natives. The carnage was so great that the Aztecs were stunned and halted
temporarily; they soon regrouped and, with a piercing, wild war whoop, again charged
forward pitting bare bravery and sheer numbers against the relentless fury of the artillery
fusillades. Reaching the walls over the mangled bodies of their comrades, they plunged
spears into the cracks in tine parapet and used them to scale the ramparts. As the
climbing Aztecs reached the top of tine wall, they were picked off by expert Spanish
marksmen; those that made it pass the gunfire, were finished off below by the awaiting
Tlaxcalans and their sharp maquahuitls. Failing in their attempts to
breach the walls by climbing and by battering rams, the Aztecs resorted to fire arrows
touching off several fires which tine defenders, lacking abundant water, were unable to
stop. The main buildings, made of stone, were unaffected, but the surrounding outer
works were of wood and promptly caught fire. The only way the Spaniards were able to
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stop the conflagration was by knocking down one of the walls which smothered the
flames, but left the defenders exposed to direct assault by tine attackers. Cortés ordered
artillery and arquebusiers to the breach and maintained a steady volley against the Aztec
charges. The battle raged for hours filling the area with smoke and flames amid the
thundering of the artillery and the hissing of arrows and stones until nightfall brought a
cessation of the hostilities.
That night the Spaniards rested little as they tried to rebuild the breached part of the
walls, and reorganized their resources for the combat of the following day. Throughout
the night occasional arrows and stones would fall upon the defenders just to remind them
of what awaited them on the morn. Cortés decided to break the besiegers' resolve by
sallying forth at dawn to inflict as much damage as possible upon them. The early light
revealed that the enemy was up and ready, organized into battalions distinguished by
special banners, and bearing an impressive array of arms, among them long copper
tipped spears, rnaquahuitls, slings, and bows. A weapon the Spaniards feared
especially was a three-pronged arrow attached to a long string which was used to
retrieve the dart by tearing it out of the body of the wounded victim arid pulling it back to
its sender.
As the Aztecs were still assembling for the attack, Cortés discharged an artillery volley
into their midst and, opening the gates wide, led the cavalry in a charge supported by
several thousand Tlaxcalan warriors. The Aztecs were unable to resist the fury of the
Spanish charge and withdrew to a barricade set up in the street behind the attack area.
From this new position, the Aztecs were able to stop the Spanish charge, and turn the
tables on them by launching flanking actions from side streets supported by heavy
missile fire from rooftops and canoes in the nearby canals. Cortés ordered up some
heavy artillery and bombarded the Aztec defenses, but the natives had gained time to
rally. The combat was so fierce that Aztec warriors grabbed the legs of horses hoping to
slow them down, and reached for the riders to dismount them. Between the hail of large
stones and the efforts of the brave Aztec warriors, some of the riders were brought down;
those that were not finished off with a swift blow from a maquahuitl, were dragged to
canoes and taken for sacrifice on the bloody altars of the vengeful native gods. Some of
the Spaniards who were veterans of several European wars, especially in Italy, said they
never seen such ferocity on the part of combatants.
The harassment by stones hurled from rooftops was so intense that Cortés ordered the
nearby houses set on fire. Progress was slow as the houses were not near enough to
one another for the flames to advance automatically; nevertheless, by the end of the day,
several hundred houses had been set aflame. Although the Spaniards won every direct
confrontation, they could not stop the Aztecs from regrouping time and again to
counterattack from another direction. The enemy's numbers seemed endless while the
Spaniards counted each loss as irreplaceable. Exhausted by the day‘s effort and
carnage, Cortés gave the order to return to the Spaniards' enclosure.
As he made his way back, Cortés observed his friend Duero on a side street, unhorsed
and fighting fiercely on foot against a host of surrounding Aztecs. With a battle cry, he
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charged the natives and dispersed them, allowing Duero to remount. Then, they fought
their way back to the main force, which was closely followed by the resolute Aztecs who
then camped outside the Spanish enclave for another night of siege.
During the day's combat, Cortés suffered a painful wound on his left hand which made
his rest difficult that night. The shouts and threats of the besiegers throughout the hours
of darkness could only have added to his discomfort and anguish. He had seriously
underestimated the combat bravery and fierceness of the Aztec warriors, mistaking their
earlier submissiveness for lack of courage. If kept up indefinitely, the Aztec attack could
only end in the defeat of the Spaniards who eventually would run out of ammunition and
be too few to withstand the furious onslaughts of the huge enemy hosts.
The following morning, the point was proved when a determined assault by the Aztecs
managed to breach one of the walls and penetrate the enclosure; despite the intensity of
the attack, not one of the intruders was left alive by the desperate defenders. Aware of
the growing weakness of his position, Cortés sent for the emperor to request his
assistance in quelling the rebellion by interceding in behalf of the Spaniards.
Motecuzoma was unwilling to aid his captors; he said he wanted only to die and that,
even if he tried to intercede, his people probably would not believe him nor Cortés'
promises. Cortés promised to leave if a way could be made for the Spaniards to exit
unimpeded by the surrounding forces. That promise, and a desire to spare his people
further bloodshed, finally moved the emperor to accede to the Spaniard's request.
.
Dressed in all his imperial finery, crown, blue and white mantle with emerald clasp, and
golden sandals, Motecuzoma was escorted by Spaniards and several Aztec nobles to a
turret from which he could be seen and heard by his people. The presence of the
emperor wielding the golden wand of office brought an instant hush over the battlefield as
old habits of reverence and obedience took over and the Aztecs knelt and prostrated
themselves before their Revered Speaker. Motecuzoma recognized the opportunity and
spoke to the people in a calm voice remonstrating with them for assaulting his palace.
He told them he was not a prisoner, and could leave when he wished. He promised them
the Spaniards would soon leave if they opened a way for them. He ordered them to show
their obedience to their rightful ruler by laying down their arms and returning to their
homes.
It was too much. The Aztecs had suffered to greatly at the hands of the Spaniards, both
in terms of human losses and humiliation. The crowd rumbled, and cries of "Coward" and
other taunts were raised. Finally, one of the Aztec chieftains raised his bow in defiance,
and a shower of arrows and stones landed upon the royal party. Taken by surprise, the
Spaniards failed to protect the emperor who was struck by three stones, one of which hit
him in the temple rendering him unconscious. The awesome sacrilegious impact of their
action stunned the Aztecs, and they fled in a panic emptying the great square before the
palace. Carried below, Motecuzoma recovered his senses shortly after, but he was a
broken man. He had failed his people and they had justly rejected him; there was nothing
to live for. He refused all treatment and consigned
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himself to leaving this world with as much dignity as was left him by allowing himself to
die.
While Motecuzoma was occupied with the effort of a slow suicide, the battle
raged on outside Axayacatl's palace. The men within the Spanish compound found
themselves under a steady barrage of stones and arrows launched from atop the
great Teocalli nearby. Some six hundred Aztecs held the heigh,t which commanded
the Spanish defensive area; from their sanctuaries they so harassed the beleaguered
defenders that it became impossible to leave a sheltered position without grave risk of
injury. Cortés assigned a detachment of a hundred men under his chamberlain,
Escobar, to take the Teocalli and destroy the sanctuaries at the top. Escobar and his men
tried bravely to scale the hundred and fifty foot height failing three separate times to
reach their objective, and suffering serious losses in each attempt. Cortés knew he had
to take the Teocalli, or his entire defense would be compromised. He decided to lead the
attack himself. Tying his shield to his now useless left hand, he mounted his
charger, and led an assault of three hundred Spaniards and a few thousand
Tlaxcalans against the Teocalli.
As soon as he reached the temple courtyard,several thousand Aztec warriors blocked his
way. The courtyard flagstones proved too slippery for the horses several of which lost
their footing, bringing their riders down with them and exposing them to capture by the
Aztecs. Cortés sent the horses back and proceeded on foot. Reaching the base of the
pyramid, he posted a strong detachment to protect his rearguard against assaults by
Aztec reinforcements as he attempted to gain the heights. Now began the difficult ascent
winding around the pyramid four times to reach each of the staircases leading to the next
level. Followed by Alvarado, Sandoval, Ordaz, and other handpicked volunteers, Cortés
struggled with the Aztecs defending each level. The Spaniards slowly carved their way
forward under constant bombardment from above by stones, arrows, pieces of masonry,
beams, and burning logs, which cut a wide swath in their ranks.
From below, arquebusiers maintained steady fire on the defenders forcing them to take
shelter at the summit. Cortés and his men finally made it to the top where in an area large
enough to hold a thousand men, they fought in heroic hand-to-hand combat against the
resolute defenders. The battle at the summit raged with such fury that neither side gave
or expected quarter. There was no place to run or hide; the only way out was through as
fanatical Aztec priests with their blood-matted hair and flowing black garments exhorted
the defenders to launch themselves against the hated foreigners. There were no walls or
parapets to keep the combatants from falling over the edge of the platform as they
grappled with one another. Cortés himself was seized by two strong Aztec warriors who
attempted to drag him to the edge of the precipice; he struggled desperately managing to
throw one his attackers down the side of the pyramid, and breaking away from the other.
All hostilities down below came to a standstill as warriors from both sides watched the
frenzied combat on the summit. The battle continued with bone-tiring intensity for a
seemingly endless three hours as the Spaniards, outnumbered two to one, steadily cut
into the numerical advantage of the
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Aztecs. A number of Aztec priests were captured and, as it became apparent that the
Spaniards would inevitably triumph, some of the Aztec warriors threw themselves from
the heights preferring death to falling into Spanish hands. Those that did not leap to
their deaths, were thrown off the summit by the Spaniards who were not in a merciful
mood after having suffered a loss of some forty five of their best men as well as
numerous wounded among the survivors.
Rustling into the sanctuaries, the Spaniards found that the cross and image of the Holy
Mother had been removed from the one, and in the other stood the gruesome image of
Huitzilopochtli with a sacrificial dish containing the still burning hearts of victims among
which there may have been some Spaniards. The image was quickly removed from the
sanctuary and thrown down the side of the pyramid to the dismay of the Aztecs watching
below. The sanctuaries were then set afire, and the flames atop the pyramid could be
seen for miles around. The new gods of the old world had defeated and destroyed the
old gods of the new world.
Never loathe to leverage a 'victory, that same night Cortés sent detachments to attack
and set fire to native quarters throughout the city; some three hundred houses were
destroyed. Following his usual policy of holding out the olive branch of peace after
having inflicted severe damage upon the enemy, Cortés called for a parley with the Aztec
leaders. When the Aztecs had gathered in the great square, Cortés appeared at the
same turret where Motecuzoma had earlier attempted to reason with his people. With
Doña Marina as his interpreter he told the Aztecs they could gain nothing by continued
resistance. They had seen their gods defeated and trampled under his feet, their temples
burned, their best warriors killed and their homes destroyed. What could they possibly
gain other than continued devastation at the hands of toe Spaniards if they did not
submit? Cortés told them he would spare the rest of them if they put down their arms;
but if they did not, he would destroy them and their city.
The Aztecs were not intimidated. Cortés had misjudged them once again. Slow to anger,
once aroused they were unrelenting in their desire for vengeance. They recognized the
defeats they had suffered, but pointed out to' Cortes they could afford to lose thousands
for every Spaniard of which there were fewer each day. They reminded him that he and
his men, not they, were the ones suffering from hunger and thirst, and that they must
eventually succumb. The bridges were broken, the Spaniards could not escape; they
would be sacrificed to the gods who would have their vengeance paid in Spanish hearts.
With this last statement the Aztecs unleashed a volley of arrows forcing the Spaniards to
take shelter.
The bridges were broken! The statement hit home with awesome impact. The men
despaired. They were stranded in enemy territory in a hopeless situation. Where were
Cortés‘ promises of glory and fortune? Narvaez‘ men were among the most critical and
bitter; they had experienced nothing but hardship and suffering since their arrival.
Although his own men supported their commander, Cortés knew that the situation
demanded a different solution; the Spaniards could not wait indefinitely for the siege to
end of its own accord. Food was running out; the Tlaxcalan warriors were down to one
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tortilla a day. The indomitable spirit of the Aztecs practically guaranteed that their
numbers would in the end overwhelm the Spaniards regardless of their bravery and
combat superiority. Cortés hated the idea of giving up the city and the hard earned
treasures, but there was no other solution; they had to leave. The question now became
one of finding the best route. The shortest route would be the causeway to Tlacopan, but
would they be able to reach the mainland through the throngs of fighting Aztecs and
under steady harassment by volleys of stones and arrows from the rooftops. He decided
to attempt an exploratory sally in the direction of the Tlacopan causeway. To counter the
rooftop advantage of the Aztec archers and slingers, he had a movable wooden tower
built from which Spanish arquebusiers would be able to fire on the enemy. It also had a
drawbridge which could be lowered onto the rooftops enabling the Spaniards to directly
assault the Aztec archers and slingers. Pulled by Tlaxcalan
auxiliaries, the tower moved forward spewing gunfire from portholes on two levels and
was a reasonable success except where taller buildings were encountered. From these
taller structures, the Aztecs hurled down large pieces of masonry which shook the tower
to its base and threatened on more than one occasion to topple it on its side. While the
Aztecs were distracted with attacking the strange war machine, Cortés and his men
verified the condition of the bridges. Indeed, they had been destroyed and, although the
width of 'the canals they spanned was not much, the absence of the bridges made both
war machines and cavalry ineffective.
Cortés decided to fill in the canals at the location of each bridge. Using rubble from the
destruction of surrounding structures, the Spaniards and Tlaxcalans filled up each gap
while under constant fire from Aztec slingers and archers on the opposite side. Once the
canal was filled, Spanish cavalry would charge across driving the enemy back to the next
crossing. There were seven canals to be filled, and the scene at each was the same until,
within two days of fighting and laboring, all were completed. Cortés' joy at having
accomplished this difficult task was further heightened when he received word
that the Aztecs had requested a parley to negotiate an end to the struggle.
Accompanied by sixty of his men including Alvarado and Sandoval, he rode back to his
quarters to meet with the Aztec delegation. Before a meeting could take place, the
Aztecs requested Cortés release the two priests captured at the Teocalli to carry terms
and conditions back and forth between the parties. Cortés, in a gesture of goodwill,
released the priests and gave them explicit terms to convey to the Aztec leaders. It
turned out to be an Aztec ruse; the priests did not return. One of them was the Teotecutli
or Snake Woman, their name for the high priest who was needed for the coronation of a
new Revered Speaker which was imminent.
Cortés was relaxing after the rigors of that day of combat when word arrived that the
enemy was attacking in force, and that the garrisons left to defend three key bridges were
being overwhelmed. Angered at being duped, he led his cavalry back down the
causeway in a furious charge that swept the Aztecs before them regaining each of the
bridges. No sooner had he accomplished this than the enemy regrouped behind them
and overpowered the infantry defending one of the regained bridges. It was like trying to
fight the tide as thousands of Aztec warriors swarmed around the Spaniards at every
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location pelting them endlessly with stones and arrows. Some of the riders were tossed
into the canals while their mounts floundered about in confusion. For a moment it
seemed as if the day might be lost, but Cortés was everywhere throwing himself into the
middle of the fray, rallying and supporting his men, helping the last of the stragglers to get
back across the bridge. When the last Spaniard had crossed the bridge, Cortés turned to
join his men but found that several of the planks had given way leaving him alone on the
far side of the canal surrounded by the enemy. Spurring his steed he leaped across the
six foot gap landing safely on the other side in a hail of Aztec stones and arrows.
In the midst of the confusion, the word was spread that Cortés had been killed sowing
despair in the Spanish camp and joy in the ranks of the Aztecs. It was soon clear,
however, that Cortés had again escaped almost certain death although not without
suffering some painful contusions and injuries. As night fell and the Aztecs quit the
battle, the Spaniards were in possession of the causeway. Returning to his quarters,
Cortés was received with the news that Motecuzorna was dying. Until the last minute,
the emperor had been attended by several of the Spaniards and Father Olmedo, all
genuinely interested in saving his soul by getting him to accept Christian baptism.
Motecuzoma would not abandon his gods, but he did ask Cortés to look after his three
daughters seeing that they would not want for care and fortune. Cortés agreed and, to his
credit, he saw to it that they later were married to Spanish hidalgos and granted large
dowries by the Spanish government. The unhappy Motecuzoma breathed his last
breath on June 30th of 1520, surrounded by Spaniards and a few faithful Aztec nobles.
Many of the Spaniards, Cortés among them, are said to have wept at his loss for they
considered him a kind and generous ruler who had treated them well and demonstrated a
special affection for them during his days of power.
Although Cortés had been angered by the situation he encountered upon his return from
battling Narvaez, and treated the emperor poorly at that time, he later exonerated him
from any involvement in the uprising. At age forty one, Motecuzoma had reigned
eighteen years; the greatest and last of the Aztec emprerors, raised to unparalleled glory
in the history of his people by his wisdom and character, and brought down by his
fanatical belief in the prophesies of his religion, he died a tragic outcast surrounded by
strangers in his father's palace while his people raged against him outside its walls.
Cortés might well have wept, for without Motecuzoma he had lost his most valuable
bargaining chip. The Spaniards were now alone; there was no one to link them to the
angry hordes without their compound. But Noblesse Oblige, and Cortés accorded the
deceased emperor the dignity and respect he had sometimes denied him in life. Dressed
in full imperial splendor, Motecuzoma's body was placed upon a bier, and carried out the
gates on the shoulders of his nobles into the city he had once governed. It is believed,
but not known, that Motecuzoma‘s body received from his people the burial and honors
due his noble station.
LA NOCHE TRISTE. (THE NIGHT OF SADNESS).
Retreat to Tlaxcala was the only alternative, but how to accomplish it in the midst of such
large hostile forces? Cortes and his officers struggled with their options. Although the
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Tlacopan causeway was two miles shorter than the others was it a good choice because
it left them at the far end of the lake facing a longer roundabout march through Aztec
territory to Tlaxcala Should they leave by day or by right. By day they would be able to
see what they faced, but would be exposed to far more resistance. By night they might
have the element of surprise against an enemy who disliked and was unaccustomed to
night time fighting, but they would be hampered by all the inconveniences of darkness
especially the inability to see adequately to coordinate their own movements in response
to the enemy‘s actions. Finally, it was decided to take the Tlacopan causeway because,
given the circuitous route of retreat,
it was probably the least expected option by the Aztecs and because it was the avenue
which would most quickly put the Spaniards back on firm land. As for the time of the
departure, a nighttime exit was chosen for a variety of reasons. Among these was an
unusual circumstance; one of the Spanish soldiers, by the peculiar name of Botello
(which means "bottle" in Spanish), who had gained a reputation for his astrological
powers, predicted that a night time evacuation would be more successful. He stated that
although Cortés would be faced with great danger and distress, he would survive and
later go on to great fame and fortune. He also predicted that he, Botello, would die
during the departure. To his own misfortune, he proved right on both counts. Whether or
not Cortés placed any stock in Botello's predictions, he was smart enough to make use of
anything that went along with his own plans and helped him to persuade his followers. It
was also decided to leave immediately, because the Aztecs would least expect the
Spaniards to act so promptly.
There remained the problem of the treasure. How could they get it safely out of the city
with them? Cortés was most concerned about the royal fifth and his own share, which
had been melted down into gold bars. He turned the royal fifth over to the royal officers,
providing them with sturdy horses and a Spanish guard. The rank and file had melted
most of their shares of the treasure into gold chains and necklaces that they wore on their
persons. Despite all the efforts to ensure the safe transport of the treasure, it was
impossible to carry everything, and much of the gold still lay on the floor of the treasure
room. As the soldiers watched wide-eyed and eager to add to their personal booty,
Cortés opened the doors wide and told tine men to take as much as they might want. He
also cautioned then, however, not to overburden themselves because the retreat would
be difficult and they would need all their strength to defend themselves as well as their
treasure. Nevertheless, some of the Narvaez men, who had not seen much gold since
their arrival, could not resist the temptation and loaded themselves with as much as they
could sweep up. One of Cortés' veterans, Bernal Diaz, limited himself to taking only five
calchihuitls, the green gems so highly prized by the natives; it turned out to be, a wise
choice as it later enabled him to buy food and medicine from the natives during a time of
great distress.
Cortés gave the men their marching orders; the vanguard would comprise some two
hundred infantrymen under the command of the shrewd Gonzalo de Sandoval assisted
by Francisco de Lugo and Diego de Ordaz, plus twenty cavalry. The battle center, or
middle, would be under the command of Cortés with Cristobal de Olid, Alonso de Avila,
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Francisco de Morla, a hundred men, some of the guns, the treasure, baggage, and the
prisoners. Among the latter were Cacama, Lord of Texcoco, a son and two daughters of
Motecuzorna, and several Aztec nobles. The rearguard, under Pedro de Alvarado and
Velasquez de Leon was composed mainly of a large body of infantry and most of the
heavy guns. A contingent of forty men under the command of an officer by the name of
Margarine (which does not mean "Margarine" in Spanish) had the responsibility of
carrying and using a portable bridge to span any open canals found along the way; these
men were sworn to hold their ground until the last person had crossed the bridge before
picking it up and moving on to the next gap. The Tlaxcalan forces were spread out along
the length of the army.
At midnight on July 1 of 1520, after the army had heard mass, the gates were opened
and, in the midst of a steady downpour, the march to the causeway began. The army
made its way safely through the main square and down the silent streets of the capital, a
ghostly march of men and horses hunched against the rain and peering into the
darkness. As the Spaniards approached the causeway and prepared to lay down the
portable bridge, Aztec sentinels posted at this crossing raised the alarm. Atop the
Teocallis throughout the city, priests had been stationed to pick up the alarm and spread
it by means of shell trumpets and a huge war drum. Soon, they were carrying out their
mission and the doleful sounds of their instruments could be heard across the land and
the waters. The Spaniards lost no time in placing the portable bridge across the gap, and
Gonzalo de Sandoval was the first to test the structure; he was soon followed by the rest
of the vanguard. Cortés and his contingent were halfway across when a great splashing
was heard all around them. Thousands of warrior-laden canoes surrounded the
causeway on both sides launching arrows and stones in a never-ending volley that joined
the rain in falling upon the hapless Spaniards and Tlaxcalans as they surged forward to
cross the bridge.
The Aztecs beached their canoes against the sides of the causeway disembarking to
attack the marchers who barely defended themselves in the hurry to make progress.
The vanguard soon reached the next gap and called for the portable bridge; in the rear,
the last of the army had made it across the first breach. Margarine and his men
attempted to raise the bridge; they struggled and died valiantly, but were unable to move
the bridge. It was hopeless; the wooden structure, tightly wedged by the weight of horses,
wagon train, and several thousand men that had passed over, was immovable. As the
word was passed along, a loud groan could be heard, so loud it drowned out the noise of
the battle. Then panic hit the struggling men; they surged forward battling the enemy and
one another in a mad rush to escape certain death. The vanguard was pushed into the
water by the surge from the rear; some managed to swim to the other side, others fell in
and drowned carried down by the weight of their armor and the golden treasures hung
around their necks and stashed on their persons. Sandoval, De Olid, and other
cavalrymen spurred their horses into the water; most of them made it across, but others
either drowned or reached the other side only to have their mounts
slip and roll back into the lake carrying their riders with them.
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The Aztec slingers and archers couldn't miss as they fired into the dark huddled mass of
the fleeing Spaniards and Tlaxcalans. Aztec warriors dashed their boats against the
rocks to leap ashore and grapple with their enemies dragging them down to the waters
where they were either killed or carried away for sacrifice to the angry gods. The battle
rose to a frenzied pitch with the Aztecs sensing for the first time in their many encounters
with the Spaniards that they had the advantage. The Spaniards feeling the intensity of
their enemy‘s hatred and passion, swung their swords and struck with mad abandon
trying at all times to keep moving forward.
Shouts, screams and cries of anger, pain and fear filled the right. The Spaniards could
hear the heart rending pleas of their wounded comrades as they were dragged off by the
Aztecs, but could do nothing to help them. Injured, rider less horses screamingly
thrashed about in wide -eyed fear injuring friend and foe equally. As the nightmare
evolved into a mad press forward, men, horses, equipment, guns, carts, and even the
precious baggage tumbled into the gap in the causeway. Slowly it began to fill up as
humans and horses frantically clambered over the debris and one another to get to the
other side. Cortés sought out and found a fordable path, and stood there, the waters
lapping at his saddle, trying to direct the men towards safety, but the rain and the uproar
drowned out his voice. As he crossed the canal with a few of his officers, his page, Juan
de Salazar, was swept away and killed in the melee of the moving battle. Cortés
advanced to the next gap where he found Sandoval and his men encouraging others to
swim across the
canal. The breach was wider and deeper than the previous two, but enemy harassment
was substantially less. Men and horses began to swim to the other side; some made it,
others, weighed down by their plunder sank, to the bottom and drowned, their bodies and
their gold becoming one with the Mexican earth.
As Cortés and his companions began to lead the men toward the end of the causeway,
word reached them that the rearguard was under heavy attack and might not be able to
survive without reinforcements. Dashing back along the causeway, Cortés and his
mounted officers swam the canal again and quickly rejoined the fray. The situation was
desperate; Alvarado and his troops had given good account of themselves using their
cannon and superior weaponry to best of their skill; the mounds of bodies piled up along
the causeway gave mute testimony to their effectiveness. In the murky light of early
dawn the Spaniards could now see the thousands of canoes surrounding them in the
waters on either side of them. Along the causeway, more and more Aztec warriors came
from the city to replace those who had already fallen to the Spanish fire and steel.
Leading the survivors of the rearguard, and wounded in several places, Alvarado stood
next to the body of his magnificent steed killed earlier in the combat, valiantly holding off
the growing numbers of enemy warriors who were closing in on him. The Aztecs had
rushed the guns, overwhelming their crews, and were now swarming around the
remaining Spaniards who fought for their lives against the enemy tide.
The cavalry charge led by Cortés pushed tine enemy back, but only temporarily as the
Aztec warriors, pushed by those advancing from the rear, surged forward again forcing
the Spaniards into the waters at the breach in the canal. Most of the men made it across,
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but Alvarado, alone and on foot, remained on the other side. Aztec canoes began to
press around the gap. Alvarado took one look as if hesitating, and then, plunging his
long lance into the debris in the gap, he pole vaulted across in a single leap! This
amazing display of physical prowess stunned the Aztec and Tlaxcalan warriors watching
what seemed like Alvarado‘s last minutes on earth before he leapt across the canal and
into the pages of history. His name of Tonatiuh seemed well deserved, for truly he must
have been the son of the Sun to accomplish such a deed. It is not known what the exact
length of the leap may have been, but suffice it to realize that it had been wide enough for
others to drown in attempting to cross it. Adding to the legendary quality of the feat is the
fact that Alvarado was wearing full armor when he jumped! Alvarado‘s leap practically
closed out the combat of that day as, reaching the other side, he and the rest of the
motley survivors of this once proud Spanish army followed Cortés to the end of the
causeway and onto the mainland.
The Aztecs did not pursue; occasional volleys of arrows were launched from surrounding
canoes, but no organized effort was made to finish off the weary and bloodied Spaniards.
The Aztecs left behind on the causeway now began to behave like Spaniards, looting and
plundering the dead and wounded of the spoils that had spilled during the fight.
Unmolested, the Spaniards continued on to the small town of Popotla nearby. There,
Cortés dismounted, and sitting upon the steps of the local Teocalli, watched the remnants
of his army file by looking for and, sometimes finding, familiar and cherished faces. The
normally cool and controlled Cortés, overcome by the emotions stirred by this pathetic
sight, wept bitterly at the loss of so many and so much. Recovering, he began to take
inventory of the survivors. Most of his key officers had survived: Sandoval, De Olid, De
Ordaz, Alvarado, Avila, all wounded one or more times,
were able to function and would be ready to fight again if need be. Doña Marina and the
other interpreter, Jeronimo Aguilar, had made it through safely protected by the
Tlaxcalans in the vanguard. Cortés was especially pleased to discover that his master
boat builder, Martin Lopez, was among the survivors; he would be an essential part of the
commander's plans for the future.
As the weary men continued their march away from the lake, the deep, hollow beat of the
giant drum atop the great Teocalli drifted across the waters sending shivers down their
spines. The dread beat signaled Huitzilipochtli‘s revenge as still throbbing hearts were
being ripped from the breasts of prisoners, among them some twelve Spaniards, and
placed before the angry god‘s idol. Reaching Tlacopan, the men began to mass around
the main square milling about in dazed confusion. Concerned that the Aztecs might rally
and attack them from the surrounding rooftops, Cortés rode to: the front of the force and
urged his men on into the countryside where he struggled to introduce some semblance
of order among the disorganized ranks. He needed to find a safe haven for his battered
army.
Not far away, there stood a Teocalli on a height called the Hill of Otancapolco, which
overlooked the surrounding plain and seemed large enough to offer a good defensive
position. They discovered it was defended by a party of natives. Cortés' troops were
hardly in any condition to engage in further combat, but by example and encouragement
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he managed to lead them up the side of the Teocalli dispersing the Aztec defenders and
taking the hill . There, in a building large enough to accommodate their reduced numbers,
the Spaniards found shelter, warmth and time to dress their many wounds.
Nothing could heal tine wounds in Cortés' mind as he tallied up his losses from La Noche
Triste, or Night of Sadness. Of the Spaniards some 450 had been killed or taken
prisoner; among the dead were some of his best officers, Juan Velasquez de Leon, who
had commanded the rearguard with Alvarado, as well as Francisco de Morla who died at
Cortés‘ side in one of the several rescue efforts made that night, young Juan de Salazar,
who also died at the commander‘s side, Botello the astrologer, and many of the Narvaez
men who had been assigned to the rearguard.
Of the brave Tlaxcalans, it is estimated some 4,000 may have died in the retreat. Lost
and killed during the confusion of the night were all the prisoners, including Cacama and
Motecuzoma‘s son and daughter. Also gone during the night were all the cannon and
muskets along with the ammunition, most of the baggage and treasure, and Cortes'
papers with the record of all the transactions of the entire expedition. All the Spaniards
had left of their vaunted weaponry and technological superiority were their mighty swords
of Toledan steel, some crossbows and a few badly battered horses.
The Aztecs failed to press their advantage, busying themselves with tine cleaning up of
their city, removal and honorable burial of their war dead, and sacrifices of the prisoners
taken during the battle. Cortés, on the other hand, wasted no time in getting the
remnants of his army moving again; he wanted to put as much distance as possible
between his weakened forces and the Aztec hordes. At midnight, the army left its
shelter at the Teocalli with no fanfare or drum rolls, and silently marched towards its new
destination, Tlaxcala. To confuse enemy observers, camp fires were left burning brightly
in tine night. The order of march had the severely wounded in the middle carried
in litters on the backs of native porters or tmamanis, other wounded shared
horses riding behind cavalrymen. The walking wounded helped guard the flanks
while able-bodied troops manned the van and rearguards. Following their Tlaxcalan
guides, the Spaniards took the long route around the lakes heading first toward
Cuauhtitlan then marching around the northern end of Lake Tzompanco. Having lost
their cloak of invincibility, the Spaniards were often harassed by parties of local natives
who hounded their steps along the way. Quick charges by the cavalry often dispersed
these nuisance attacks. At night, the army sought refuge in small towns usually
abandoned by the natives who had taken all the food with them. Hunger became a
serious problem. Wild cherries which grew abundantly along the roadside, became one of
the main staples, supplemented by infrequent ears of corn overlooked by the fleeing
locals. When a horse died, it became a major meal. Nothing was wasted with even the
hide and tine entrails being consumed; only the bones and hooves were left.
Stragglers were picked off by the enemy and Cortes found it necessary to establish tight
discipline to: ensure none of tine men wandered too far in search of sustenance. As the
men weakened, many of those who had managed to save their gold from the disastrous
retreat from Tenochtitlan soon found it was too heavy a burden to risk further weakness
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and death, and ended up throwing it away. Guerilla-like harassment continued
wherever the Spaniards went. At one location, the troops spotted a party of natives on a
hill; accompanied by five riders and twelve infantry, Cortés advanced to explore the area.
As they neared the hill, a larger party appeared and attacked them; Cortés was hit twice
in the head by sling stones which gave him a troublesome wound.
Famine haunted the little army as it made its way through the mountains toward Tlaxcala.
Spaniards and the hardy Tlaxcalan mountaineers suffered with equal stoicism.
In the meantime, Cuihtlahuac, Motecuzoma's successor had decided to cut off Cortés'
retreat by assembling an army in an open field near the village of Otumpan. The
Spaniards passed Teotihuacan or city of the gods on their way to Tlaxcala. On the
morning of their seventh day of march they were barely nine leagues from the capital
although their circuitous route had caused them to walk at least three times that distance.
As they climbed the foothills of the sierra, they were notified by their scouts that a mighty
Aztec army awaited them on the other side. Coming over the crest of the mountain they
saw in the valley below them Cuitlahuac‘s army spread out in impressive array filling the
entire area with white coated warriors. The sight of thousands of shining
spear tips, waving banners, and helmeted warriors in their white cotton robes was not a
welcome one for the bedraggled Spanish troops. Once again, there was no way out but
through.
Cortés made the necessary dispositions of his forces. He lined them up in a wide front
with the cavalry on either side. To the horsemen he gave instructions to ride with their
lances at eye level; the infantrymen were ordered to thrust rather than swing their
swords. Both instructions were designed to inflict the maximum damage upon the
enemy with as little effort and risk as possible. Cortés harangued his men briefly; there
was no need for long dissertations on the stakes involved. The armies came together
with a roar as the huge numbers of Aztec warriors enveloped the Spaniards in their rush
pressing against one another to share in the glory of eliminating the hated invaders once
and for all. Cuitlahuac, who had not seen the effect of the cavalry on an open field, made
a serious tactical mistake in seeking a major confrontation with the Spaniards. He would
have been better off with a stream of smaller, guerilla-like engagements steadily wearing
the Spaniards down. He had seen the cavalry operating in the narrow confines of
Tenochtitlan‘s streets and on the equally narrow causeways where it was far less
effective. He had also underestimated the ability of the Spaniards to maintain discipline
in the face of overwhelming numbers and use their superior weaponry with great
effectiveness.
The Spanish infantrymen cut their way into the Aztec ranks steadily forcing them back.
Th cavalry conducted quick sweeps of five horsemen riding abreast as they plowed deep
into the Aztec files looking to cut down the native leaders and create further confusion.
Gonzalo de Sandoval distinguished himself by his frequent damaging forays into the
enemy‘s midst. Cortes' horse received so many injuries that the commander was forced
to change him for another taken from the baggage train. Once again, most of the men
received injuries, including Cortés who suffered another head wound. The Spaniards and
Tlaxcalans fought well and hard taking a terrible toll upon the enemy whose numbers
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seemed endless. The Aztecs seemed not to notice their losses as they pressed forward
time and again forcing the Spaniards back upon their ranks. Fatigue and hunger began to
tell upon the Spaniards who were running out of strength to continue the uneven struggle.
The Aztecs took notice of this turn of events and began to press even harder crowding
the Spaniards closer upon one another and creating some confusion in their midst.
At this juncture, when it seemed the Spaniards must be overwhelmed, Cortés noticed an
Aztec noble at some distance who seemed to be the commander of the enemy forces.
This noble, named Cihuaca, was dressed in feathery robes, and carried in a litter by
several well dressed young Aztec warriors bearing the banner of a leader. Cortés saw an
opportunity to turn the tide and, pointing to the Aztec noble, called upon his cavaliers,
Sandoval, Olid, Alvarado, and Avila among them, to follow him as he charged into the
native ranks. Caught by surprise, the Aztecs gave way and Cortés soon reached Cihuaca
piercing him with his lance. Juan de Salamanca, a young officer who had been riding at
Cortes' side, quickly dismounted and put an end to the Aztec noble‘s life; he then
snatched up the fallen Aztec banner and handed it to Cortés as a trophy. The sudden
attack and its terrible success created panic among the Aztec ranks, and soon turned into
a general route. The angered Spaniards and Tlaxcalans were quick to exact vengeance
for their recent losses and pursued the enemy killing and maiming until they were sated.
Once again, Cortés' insight and prompt action had saved the Spaniards from total
extermination and changed the course of history.
The Spaniards were now reduced to a little more than four hundred men and although
the Aztecs continued to dog their steps, they never attacked again. Soon the army
reached Tlaxcalan territory. Given the heavy losses the Tlaxcalans had suffered in
Cortés' service, he was concerned about the reaction this information might produce
among their countrymen. The Tlaxcalans, like the hardy mountaineers they were, had
shown nothing but courage and loyalty. Cortés instructed his men to give the Tlaxcalans
due recognition of their valor, but to also be alert to any change in the mood of these
doughty allies. When the inhabitants of the first Tlaxcalan village, Huejotilipan, came out
to greet them, they put most of Cortés‘ fears to rest; the Spaniards were well received.
When the news of their arrival reached the Tlaxcalan capital, Maxixcatzin and Xicotencatl
(of combat memory) journeyed to welcome the Spaniards. The Tlaxcalan governors were
satisfied that the ability of the Spaniards to resist the total concentrated power of the
Aztec empire and come back alive was proof enough of their extraordinary power.
Inviting Cortés to the capital, they provided him with every assistance to convey the
wounded in litters, and offered to help in all possible ways. The arrival in the Tlaxcalan
capital seemed more a triumphal parade than tine return of a defeated army;
jubilant crowds flocked to greet them. From time to time the shouts of joy were
interrupted by wailing and lamentation on the part of those who had lost a family member
in the expedition. Cortés and his men were put up in available housing within
Maxixcatzin‘s palace, and their wounds received treatment. Cortés had lost the use of
two fingers on his left hand, and one the head wounds received from sling stones was so
infected and aggravated by the commander‘s exertions and exhaustion that it became
necessary to remove part of the bone. Cortes developed a high and debilitating fever
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that prostrated him for several days in a state of almost complete helplessness.
Eventually, his strong constitution pulled him through and he soon was able to take
charge again. Making sure the spoils of their recent victory over the Aztecs were shared
with their hosts, he also delivered into Maxixcatzin‘s own hands the trophy banner won in
the battle of Otumpan.
While the Spaniards were recovering from their wounds, word arrived of further disasters
which saddened them greatly. Spanish troops nearly everywhere, unaware of the
situation in Tenochtitlan, had been ambushed by Aztec forces and in many cases had
suffered grievously. Cortes was especially concerned about the fate of his garrison at
Villa Rica, and sent a messenger to report on the condition of the men there. To his
great relief, the bond with the Totonacs had held, and the Spaniards at that location had
fared well. At this point, most men would have considered themselves well delivered
from the recent possibility of total extermination at the hands of their enemies, and
removed themselves from further danger by returning first to Villa Rica, and then to Cuba.
That is what many of the survivors thought. Enough was enough; they had suffered
greatly at the hands of the Aztecs, and had little to show for it other than their wounds
and losses. Even those who managed to escape with some booty had found it necessary
to trade much of it for food, sometimes giving a bar of solid gold in exchange for a few
tortillas. It made sense to go home now.
Not to Cortés. Never, not even at the depth of his despair and defeat, did he give up his
dream of conquest and glory. As soon as the fever abated, he sent to Villa Rica for
reinforcements and began to plan a punitive expedition against the town of Tepejacac
where twelve Spaniards had been killed in an ambush. The Narvaez troops, who had
been mauled most severely during the Aztec uprising, were the most vocal and drafted a
formal written list of demands. The list was made all the more pressing by the fact that
his good friend, Andres de Duero, former secretary of Governor Velasquez, had added
his signature at the top of the document. Cortés would not turn back; the prize was still
out there and, in his own mind, available. To turn back now would surely eliminate all
chance of success. He realized what the others had missed; their departure from
Tenochtitlan had been forced upon them by unfavorable circumstances that would not be
repeated. The combat superiority of the Spaniards against superior numbers of native
warriors could not be used advantageously when they were the besieged and were cut
off from food and water. That was their situation in Tenochtitlan and the reason why
Cortes chose the high risk of retreat versus the certain death of staying under siege.
Outside the confining walls of the compound, in an open field such as the battlefield of
Otumpan, the Spaniards were able to use their superior weaponry and fighting skills to
tactical advantage. Cortés meant to chose his battlefields and turn the tables on the
Aztecs by forcing them to fight in situations where their superior numbers would work
against them.
In a rousing harangue, Cortés appealed to the honor and courage of his men asking
them not to turn their backs on the great deeds they had accomplished by now retreating
to Villa Rica. Nor could they, in good conscience, leave their valiant allies behind to suffer
the wrath of the Aztecs; they had to stand by these good people who had sacrificed so
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much gallantly fighting alongside the Spaniards. With reinforcements on the way they
would be able to turn the tide against their enemies. If, however, the faint of heart among
them wanted to leave, so be it. He would stay in the company of a few brave and bold
men rather than those who were cowardly and lacking in honor. As he expected, his own
followers responded strongly in his favor, shaming the Narvaez men into sullen silence.
There was also dissension among the Tlaxcalans. The defeat of the Spaniards and the
losses suffered by tine Tlaxcalans generated some unhappiness among the people, and
at least one of their rulers; this was compounded by the need to lodge and feed the
Spaniards.
In Tenochtitlan, Cuitlahuac, Motecuzoma‘s brother who had succeeded him to the throne,
saw an opportunity to create a breach between the Spaniards and their Tlaxcalan allies.
He sent an embassy of six Aztec nobles bearing presents to persuade the Tlaxcalans to
bury old hatreds and make common cause against the hated foreigners who had insulted
their gods and would bring down all the peoples of Anahuac. Cuitlahuac, an
experienced warrior and a man of great energy was unencumbered by the prophecies
and religious confusion that had so weakened his brother. He unequivocally hated the
Spaniards, and lost no time in organizing to rid the land of them. He began by rebuilding
the areas destroyed in the combat with the Spaniards. He reduced taxation of subject
peoples in exchange for their pledge to come to his assistance against the Spaniards.
Making use of the lessons learned during combat with the Spaniards, he reorganized his
troops and equipped them with long lances (some of them tipped with captured sword
blades) to be used against cavalry charges.
Maxixcatzin, the old Tlaxcalan ruler, distrusted the Aztecs and felt their offer of friendship
an expedient tactic which would soon afterwards be forgotten. The Aztecs were ancient
enemies who had forced the Tlaxcalans to live in hardship without the ability to trade for
many of the necessities of life. Thanks to their Spanish allies, the Tlaxcalans now had
access to many of these things. Not all the Tlaxcalan ears were deaf to the Aztec offers;
Xicotenatl, the mighty warrior who had suffered stinging defeats against the Spaniards,
felt it would be better t~ unite with a race of their own kind who shared a common culture
and religion, than to remain as allies with the untrustworthy white foreigners whose only
true religion was gold. The debate grew heated and ended with an enraged Maxixcatzin
physically ejecting Xicotenatl from the council room. This forceful action intimidated any
who might have thought to support Xicotenatlfe position, and the Tlaxcalan ruling body
unanimously rejected the Aztec offer.
Three weeks had gone by since the Spaniards had arrived in Tlaxcala. Cortés felt it was
time to get the army out into the field; action was the best cure for restlessness. He chose
as his target the town of Tepejpcac, where twelve Spaniards had been ambushed during
the recent uprising. Mustering his forces, Cortés counted with four hundred and forty
Spaniards; the expected reinforcements from Villa Rica had turned out to be only seven
men, mostly ill. The Tlaxcalans supplied two thousand warriors whose proud parade into
the camp, twenty abreast dressed in white mantles and carrying their bright feathered
banners, were an encouraging sight to Cortés' battered veterans. Less welcome was the
Tlaxcalans1 celebration of the event with the ritual sacrifice of several Aztec spies. The
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occasion was also used to conduct a ceremony raising the young son of a Tlaxcalan
chief to manhood and warrior status by anointing his face five times with the blood from
a still throbbing heart Aztec heart. By this time, however, the Spaniards had developed
somewhat of a double standard regarding human sacrifices; they were obscene and
despicable when practiced by the Aztecs. If performed by the Tlaxcalans and other
allies, they were still objectionable but tolerated until the practice could be changed. A
similar attitude seems to have existed among settlers of the United States regarding the
practice of scalping; it was objectionable if practiced by natives upon whites, but not
among natives.
When the combined Spanish/Tlaxcalan army arrived before Tepejacac, the inhabitants
thought it small by the usual standards and ratios of native combat. They decided to
challenge the invaders, and taunted them by saying they were in need of sacrificial
victims for their gods. The Tepejecacans had earlier been Aztec allies and traditional
enemies of the Tlaxcalans. When they saw that the Spaniards had defeated the
powerful Tlaxcalans in battle, they then decided to submit to Spanish authority. Ever
alert to the winds of fortune, they had recently returned to their original alliance with the
Aztecs. Taking advantage of this situation, Cortés summoned the royal scrivener and
dictated a decree classifying the Tepejacacans as renegade subjects, and condemning
them to slavery. The warlike and arrogant Tepejacacans made the same fatal mistake as
the Aztecs at the battle of Otumpan; counting on their numerical superiority, they opted
for meeting the Spaniards in the open field.
The Re-Conquest
The Battle of Tepjacac
A battle took place in the fields among the tall stalks of maize, which made the going
more difficult for all, but especially for the cavalry. In the end, the result was the same;
the Tepejacacans fought and died bravely, but could not withstand the Spanish
onslaught. The routed defenders regrouped a few days later, and once again stood up to
the Spaniards. It didn‘t make any difference; they were slaughtered. All resistance
crumbled and the army marched into Tepejecac.
Following the policy outlined in his decree (which was in accordance with Spanish
practice in their wars against the Moors), the population considered to be in rebellion
against Spanish authority was punished accordingly. All prisoners were converted into
slaves and branded with the letter G, which stood for "Guerra." or "War," signifying
prisoners of war and therefore slaves. That night, following the traditions of victors in the
land of Anahuac, the Tlaxcalans dined sumptuously on the roasted arms and legs of
defeated Tepejacacan warriors. It is ironic that in his letter to emperor Charles V, Cortés
explains that his reasons for this punitive expedition were that the Tepejacacans had
ambushed and killed several Spaniards, and that they also ate human flesh.
The victory had the expected effect, and soon populations from the surrounding areas
submitted to Spanish rule. With the aid of the Tlaxcalans and volunteers from other
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territories, Cortés began a campaign against all the allies of the Aztecs in that region. At
Quauhquecholtan, a city of some thirty thousand inhabitants, the Aztecs had posted a
strong garrison of several thousand warriors. The citizens of that city were not kindly
disposed towards the Aztecs and, by previous arrangement with Cortés, rose up against
the Aztecs as soon as the Spanish army appeared on the horizon. Not a single member
of the garrison escaped death. Reinforcements from the Aztecs arrived and were
immediately engaged in combat by the Tlaxcalans and the locals. The Aztecs held their
ground well in the face of the combined forces of their traditional enemies, but it was the
charge of tine Spanish forces that finally broke their discipline and scattered the survivors
who ran into the surrounding mountains to escape their enemies. Both Spanish and
native forces pursued the fleeing Aztecs until they arrived at the enemy camp. There,
they found great amounts of booty to be collected.
Cortés continued to mount his campaign against allies of the Aztecs meeting with great
success everywhere. Tlaxcalans, Xolulans and many others flocked to his side, all eager
to become allies of the Spaniards. Unbeknown to Cortes and his men, their greatest and
most devastating ally was hard at work in Tenochtitlan; a major epidemic of smallpox had
broken out among the inhabitants. With no natural defenses against this virulent new
disease, the European carried plague ran rampant through the population. The
population of Tenochtitlan is said to have been reduced by more than half. Hardly a
family was spared the loss of one or more loved ones; among the first to fall was the
brave and determined Cuitlahuac. The number of deaths rose so rapidly that it became
impossible to bury all tine dead, and bodies were often tossed into the canals, which
merely added to the sanitation problem. The disease, called Teozahuatl or Divine Spot by
the Aztecs, and brought to the New World by a black sailor in Narvaez' expedition, had
started in Cempoalla, quickly spreading to Tlaxcala and then to Tenochtitlan. It was not
selective, taking friends as well as foes. Among the friends lost to the epidemic was
Maxixcatzin, whose death was deeply felt by the Spaniards.
Despite the favorable turn of events and the rebuilding of Spanish fortunes, some of the
men were still unhappy and strongly wished to return to Cuba. Prominent among them
was Andrés de Duero, Governor Velasquez‘ former secretary and Cortés‘ good friend.
who could not be persuaded to stay. Cortés gave in to the demands of the disaffected,
and ordered his best ship placed at the disposal of those who wished to leave. Luck was
once again on Cortes' side. Unaware of his victory over Panfilo de Narvaez, Governor
Velasquez sent two supply ships to aid the expeditionary force in the fulfillment of its
mission. Falling into Cortes' hands, the ships delivered welcome supplies and
ammunition. Among the items aboard were dispatches from the Bishop of Burgos, Juan
de Fonseca, who had so determinedly dogged Columbus' footsteps. Addressed to De
Narvaez, they instructed him to deliver Cortés to the authorities in Spain for trial. Three
additional ships had been sent by Garay, the governor of Jamaica, to settle the area of
Panuco. Encountering stiff opposition from the natives , these Spaniards returned to their
ships. One of the ships sank in a storm and the other two ended up at Villa Rica; their
crews and soldiers were soon persuaded to join Cortés' forces. Yet another ship,
dispatched from the Canary islands, had landed in Cuba, and hearing of the discoveries
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in Mexico made for Villa Rica where it was welcomed, and the vessel as well as its cargo
purchased by Cortés.
Cortés was ready to attempt the re-conquest of Mexico. First stop was Tepejecac,
where the population, fearful of Aztec reprisals, requested Spanish protection. Cortés left
a force of some sixty men, mostly wounded and invalids, to garrison the city, which he
renamed Segura. In December of 1520, scarcely five months after the retreat from
Tenochtitlan, the army set forth again. Arriving in Tlaxcala with all the trophies and
prisoners captured during their recent campaigns, the Spaniards were well received.
Cortés and his officers arrived dressed in mourning as a sign of their respect and
admiration for Maxixcatzin, a gesture that was deeply appreciated by the Tlaxcalans.
Tlaxcala became a beehive of activity in preparation for the assault upon Tenochtitlan;
Tlaxcalan troops were drilled in the disciplines of European armies, new weapons were
produced, gunpowder was developed with sulfur brought by some of the Spaniards
from the volcano Popocatepetl, and construction was started on thirteen brigantines to be
used in the siege of Tenochtitlan.
Cortés now commanded close to six hundred Spaniards, among them some forty cavalry
and about eighty arquebuisiers and crossbow men. He requested assistance from the
Tlaxcalans, and Xicotenatl the Elder placed over ten thousand warriors commanded by
Xicotenatl the Younger at his disposal which added to troops received from Xolula and
Tepejacac ,came close to a total of twenty thousand men. A master of motivation, Cortés
once again addressed the Spanish troops exhorting them to reach for glory and victory in
avenging the deaths of their companions at the hands of the savage enemies who had
sacrificed them to their bloodthirsty and vile gods. Describing the Aztecs as rebels
against the Spanish crown and the Christian faith, he appealed to the noble spirit of the
Spanish soldier who was always ready to take up the challenge of war in a holy cause
and die if necessary in the defense of the one true faith. The stirring speech moved even
the hardest and most experienced veterans among the Spaniards. He then reviewed the
army of allied warriors as it passed in all its color and splendor. Through Doña Marina,
Cortés addressed the native troops telling them that the battles about to be fought were
against their ancient enemy. Aztecs would soon feel the power and strength of gallant
warriors who true to the time honored battle traditions of their noble peoples would fight
until enemy capital was finally conquered. Cortés' eloquence and charisma carried
through the translation, and the native troops responded with enthusiastic war whoops
and yells.
On the 26th of December, 1520, the army marched out of Tlaxcala and headed toward
Tenochtitlan. Before departing Tlaxcala, Cortés had issued a code of conduct for the
Spanish troops designed to ensure a common understanding of their mission and
acceptance of the rules and regulations to be enforced during its accomplishment. He
singled out the salvation of souls as the main purpose of their presence and efforts in
Mexico. They were there to conquer souls for Christ and turn the natives away from their
heathen beliefs and practices. Were they to do otherwise, the whole war would be
unjust, and anything acquired in the process could be considered as stolen not
conquered. To reinforce the point, he outlawed all forms of blasphemy. Knowing the
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unruly nature of these tough adventurers, he issued a series of regulations prohibiting
gambling, quarreling, personal combats, duels, and withholding of any kind of loot , or
booty; this last rule was punishable by death. The same sentence would also be applied
to any captain who charged the enemy without orders, keeping impetuous cavaliers from
getting carried away by their bravery thus endangering their comrades in arms; this lack
of military discipline was obviously a major concern in situations (which most of them
were) where the Spaniards were substantially outnumbered.
Cortés chose the more difficult of three roads to the capital reasoning (rightly as it turned
out) to be the least defended of the approaches. The going was hard as the men
ascended the cold and windy heights of the sierra camping nearby snow- covered
Ixtacihuatl, White Woman Mountain. In the chill of the night, men huddled around the
campfires to defend themselves against the cold caresses of the White Woman. At
dawn, they rolled out of their bedding forcing their frozen limbs to move again as they
resumed the mountain march. The Aztecs had set up obstacles along tine way with fallen
logs and large rocks; with the assistance of the native allies, these were quickly removed
and the army continued its progress. Soon, the marchers came to a clearing where the
Valley of Mexico was visible in all its beauty. As encouraging as the sight of their
objective might have been, it also raised some mixed feelings in the breasts of these
battle-scarred veterans about dangers experienced and yet to come from the magnificent
capital below. Smoke signals began to soar aloft from the surrounding peaks signifying
the enemy‘s state of alert and readiness. Cortés gave orders t tighten up the ranks in the
event they were attacked as they descended through the numerous defiles along their
path. As they approached a bridge across one chasm, they saw it was partly broken and
a large party of Aztecs and Texcocans challenged their advance. A few charges by the
cavalry, and the enemy troops were dispersed,. Nevertheless, Cortés would not let his
guard down; he maintained a steady scouting effort with patrols and advance parties. It
was one of these scouting patrols that soon returned with news of a native delegation
advancing from Texcoco to parley with the Spaniards.
During the Spaniards' stay in Tlaxcala a number of important political changes had taken
place among the leadership of the reigning cities in Anahuac. In Tenochtitlan, after the
death of Cuitlahuac from smallpox, a nephew of Motecuzoma, Cuauhtemoc (whose
name, appropriately, meant "Fallen Eagle") was elected Revered Speaker. Married to
one of Motecuzomate daughters, the new Uei Tlatoani, a brave and handsome youth of
twenty five, possessed such strength of personality and character that his men trembled
before him. He had served with distinction in military campaigns, and especially during
the recent battles with the Spaniards in Tenochtitlan. Despite his youth, he had already
earned the title of "tzin" added to his name, which now was Cuauhtemoctzin. Aware
through his spy network of Cortés' preparations to set siege to the capital, he began to
take steps to improve defenses. First, he sent away the aged and helpless who could
contribute nothing to the defense, but would have been extra mouths to feed. Then, he
concentrated on improving the discipline and readiness of his troops. He also
encouraged vassals and allies throughout the country to rise up and attack the Spaniards
wherever they might encounter them.
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Cortés hoped to set up his headquarters in Texcoco for the assault on Tenochtitlan. In
Texcoco, other changes had taken place.; the Lord Cacama, originally appointed by
Motecuzoma who chose to usurp the rights of the legal heir, had been deposed and
taken prisoner by Cortés. Cacama si said to have been killed during La Noche Triste in
the retreat from Tenochtitlan. (A different version, possible but unlikely, of Cacama‘s
death has him and Motecuzoma being found chained and stabbed to death in Axayacatl‘s
palace after the Spanish retreat). A younger brother, Culcuitzca,,had been appointed to
the throne by Cortés, but he fled with the Spaniards after they left Tenochtitlan. In his
absence, Coanactzin, another son of the great Nezahualpilli who had ruled Texcoco until
his death shortly after the ascension of Motecuzoma to the throne of the Aztecs,
assumed the crown. To show his loyalty to the Aztecs, he ambushed an unsuspecting
party of forty five Spaniards and two hundred Tlaxcalans passing through Texcoco with a
shipment of gold. Most of the Spaniards were killed; the skin was removed from their
dead bodies and hung along with their weapons and other possessions in the local
temple. The survivors were sent to Tenochtitlan for sacrifice. A few months later,
Cuicuitzca, hoping passions would have subsided by now and tired of living in exile
among the Tlaxcalans and Spaniards, decided to return home to Texcoco with hopes of
regaining the throne. No sooner had he arrived than his brother arrested him and, after
consultation with Cuauhtemoctzin, put him to death.
This was the background to the appearance of the delegation from the Lord of Texcoco
to Cortés. Among the Texcocan emissaries were several nobles known to Cortés and his
men. The Lord of Texcoco sent gifts to Cortés and invited him and his men to quarter in
his city where he and his people would become vassals of Spain. Cortés took counsel
with his officers who shared his suspicions that the peace proposal was a ruse; had it not
been, the Texcocans would have brought food. Dissembling his feelings and suspicions,
Cortés agreed to spare the Texcocan capital. In exchange, he insisted on the return of
the gold taken from the ambushed Spaniards, and an accounting of the fate of each of
the men, although he exacted no retribution for their lives. The emissaries attributed the
blame for the ambush and its consequences to the Aztec emperor. They also suggested
that Cortés and his men rest the night at their present location and enter the city in the
morning; this would allow the Lord of Texcoco to prepare adequate quarters for them.
Cortés sent the delegation back, minus one noble who remained with him, with word that
he was agreeable to the suggestions of the Texcocans.
The following morning as the army entered the outskirts of Texcoco, the streets were
empty. Women and children were gone, leaving only a few terrified-looking men behind
to meet the invaders. Arriving at their quarters in the main palaces of the city, Cortés
gave orders that none of the men were to venture forth on their own. He then sent
Alvarado and De Olid with a detachment of men to climb the great Teocalli nearby and
report on what they could view from its top. They soon returned to inform that the city was
being evacuated; people were leaving carving their goods with them as they headed into
the hills and across the lake in hundreds of canoes of all sizes.
Coanactzin had been among the first to leave the city and was safely on his way to
Tenochtitlan. Settling in at Texcoco, Cortés appointed yet another son of Nezahualpilli,
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Teocol, a gentle young man who had been baptized a Christian with the name of
Don Hernando, as successor to the throne. Teocoltzin did not live long and was
succeeded by his brother Ixtilxochitl (Black Flower,) who had disputed the crown with
Cacama upon the death of Nezahualpilli. Of a strong and military character, Ixtilxochitl
held no love for the Aztecs and contributed mightily to support the Spanish cause. While
staying at Texcoco, Cortés took time to visit the great Teocalli where he found the skins
of five horses stuffed with great care and detail right down to hooves and horseshoes. He
also found the clothing and other possessions of the five Spaniards who had been
sacrificed locally. After twelve days in Texcoco, food supplies were running low; local
resources were inadequate to support the large numbers of native allies.
Cortes, always unwilling to let inaction affect the fighting capabilities of his men, decided
to move against Ixtapalapan. Leaving Sandoval in charge of the garrison at Texcoco, he
marched the six leagues to Ixtapalapan. Accompainied by Cristobal de Olid, Andres de
Tapia, two hundred and twenty Spanish soldiers, twenty horsemen, and some three to
four thousand allies, including twenty Texcocan chieftains. The Aztecs sent eight
thousand warriors to defend Ixtapalapan. The army came within two leagues of their
target when a large force of Aztec warriors massed to meet them. The Aztecs fought
bravely, but repeated charges of cavalry broke their ranks and they retreated in disorder
as the Tlaxcalans in abattle frenzy pursued them with unchained fury.
Many of the fleeing natives seemed to be taking to canoes to escape their implacable
enemies; these canoes joined others already stationed near a breakwater in the lake.
Ignoring the canoes, the army rushed the last half league to the city where some of the
houses were built on dry land and others on stilts in the water. The fighting continued
with the Tlaxcalans looting and killing the hapless inhabitants left behind by the retreating
Aztec forces. The final part of the battle was fought near the houses on stilts where,
darkness descending upon them, the men fought in water up to their waists. Nothing
could stop the Spaniards and the Tlaxcalans, and soon the battle was over.
The Tlaxcalans dedicated themselves to pillaging by the light of the burning houses, and
the Spaniards sought shelter for the night. No sooner had they started to settle in than a
great rushing sound was heard, and the Texcocans among them cried aloud that the
dikes had been broken. The desperate Aztecs had torn down a causeway separating salt
waters from fresh in an effort to drown their enemies. Cortés made gigantic efforts to
gather his men and evacuate the city; another three hours, and all would have been lost
with not a man escaping. As it was, the flood waters rose rapidly, and the loot-burdened
men struggled to wade through the swift currents; when they passed the point where their
path faced the breach in the dikes, some of the men were swept away. Raised in the
mountains, many of the hardy Tlaxcalans could not swim, and were in desperate straits
to survive the surging waters. All the loot was lost, the powder was ruined, and all the
men were soaked through and chilled from the cold breezes of the Mexican high plains,
which are over eight thousand feet high.
The Spaniards and their allies had been lured into a deadly trap that; they survived by
mere chance. As dawn approached, the weary men looked around them and saw the
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lake filled with canoes from which taunts, in addition to barrages of arrows and stones,
rained down upon them. On land many battalions of warriors awaited them and, although
the Spaniards were in no mood for a fight, they had to cut their way through them to
regain the route to Texcoco. In the end, the Aztecs lost over six thousand men; the
Spaniards lost two men, a few Tlaxcalans, and one horse. Nevertheless, they
returned to Texcoco embarrassed and humiliated by having let themselves be drawn so
easily into the trap laid for them by the Aztecs.
Surprisingly, the Ixtapalapan fiasco was not considered a defeat by the peoples of the
surrounding communities, arid many of them began to send deputations to pledge
friendship to the Spaniards. As the deputations told their stories it quickly became
apparent why they were interested in allying themselves with the Spaniards. In
preparation for the defense of Tenochtitlan, the Aztecs were threatening their food
supplies by requisitioning their crops as they ripened. Among the peoples represented
were the inhabitants of Chalco, a city on Lake Texcoco vital to the interests of the Aztecs.
Cuauhtemoctzin had been careful to station a garrison at Chalco; although the Chalcans
had long been allies of the Aztecs, they did not trust them . The Chalcans, in turn, had
long harbored secret resentments against the Aztecs, and wished to be rid of them.
Cortés quickly dispatched a force under Sandoval to liberate the city. The Spaniards'
Tlaxcalan rearguard was severely harassed by Aztec forces on the march to to Chalco.
As the Spaniards neared the city, they encountered a large Aztec force, and fought a
battle in fields ripe with crops of maize and maguey. Once again, the Aztecs gave good
account of themselves but were forced to leave the field to the Spaniards. When the army
reached Chalco, the Aztec garrison had left and the Spaniards were joyfully received by
the liberated population.
The skirmishes with the Aztec forces seemed more and more to center on food. On
several occasions, Cortés found it necessary to dispatch forces to counter Aztec moves
by land and by water to gather crops. While he also received requests from other native
peoples to protect them from Aztec incursions, Cortés found it impossible to split his
forces among so may demands without substantially weakening his position. At the
same time, the abundance of smoke signals emitted by Aztec beacons on hilltops led
distant nations to conclude that Cortés was up against impossible odds, and often
brought offers of assistance from leaders of those countries.
Mindful of the logistics of feeding growing numbers of allies, Cortés' graciously declined
the offers. Soon, however, he thought of a stratagem that would enable him to use his
forces more wisely. He asked the volunteering nations to help other nations which had
requested help from the Spaniards which they, because of their limited numbers, could
not handle. Unfortunately, many of these nations were traditional enemies of one
another. Cortés got around this problem by bringing them together to work out peace
arrangements; in the process, he began the unraveling of tine Aztec empire. In times of
triumph, Cortes always tried to negotiate from his position of strength; he sent eight Aztec
prisoners (captured by Sandoval in the Chalco action) with a message of peace to
Cuauhtemoctzin: avoid the destruction of a great city and its culture by entering into a
peace agreement in which Cortés promised to respect the persons and the property of all
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his followers. The Aztec leader chose to ignore Cortes' offer; instead he sent word
throughout Anahuac that any Spaniard captured by his allies be sent immediately to tine
capital for ritual sacrifice.
Word arrived at Texcoco that the thirteen brigantines being built in Tlaxcala were ready
for transport to their final destination. Cortés was delighted by the news, and promptly
dispatched Sandoval with a detachment of two hundred Spanish foot soldiers and fifteen
horsemen to bring the much awaited ships to Lake Texcoco. Along the way, Sandoval
was to stop in the town of Zoltepec where forty five Spaniards had been massacred
during tine uprisings. Arriving in Zoltepec, the Spaniards found that the natives had fled.
They had good reason for doing so. At tine local temple Sandoval and his men found
tine grisly trophies of the ambush. Along with the arms and stuffed horse skins, proudly
displayed on tine walls hung the well-preserved and fully recognizable heads of their
ambushed companions. There were also two skins of Spaniards with the faces attached,
beards and all, In an adjacent building, one of the Spanish prisoners, Juan Juste, had left
a message written in charcoal indicating that he and several of his companions had been
imprisoned there. The sight of these ghastly trophies and the sad note left by the Spanish
hidalgo inflamed the hearts of the Spaniards with hatred for their enemies. It was just as
well that the natives had fled; they would not have found mercy at tine hands of the irate
Spaniards.
Sanodval continued the march toward Tlaxcala and, along the way, encountered a
convoy with the thirteen disassembled brigantines on its way to Texcoco. Martin
Lopez, the ship builder, assisted by a few Spaniards and many willing natives,
ad performed a minor miracle by producing these much- needed vessels. Sandoval
organized the caravan to protect the ships, employing in the process some twenty
thousand Tlaxcalans and all his two hundred Spaniards. The convoy labored for four
grueling days climbing the rough mountain passes. The Aztecs followed threatening , but
never daring to attack so large a force. Nearly sixty miles they covered, carrying the
disassembled ships on the shoulders of the Tlaxcalan porters. Their entrance into
Texcoco was a sight to behold; the Tlaxcalans in all their finery marching proudly with the
thirteen brigantines in their midst, a parade spread out over two leagues taking nearly six
hours to pass in review. Cortés and his officers received the Tlaxcalans in full dress and
welcomed them heartily.
As much as Cortes rejoiced at having the Tlaxcalans with him for the assault on the
capital, he could ill afford to keep that many troops idle and unfed as they traditionally
traveled without much in the way of supplies. He decided to test the army with a march
on Zaltocan, a small town on the lake of the same name at the northeastern end of the
chain of lakes. Zaltocan had refused to acknowledge Cortés‘ request for their
allegiances; they had mistreated his envoys and threatened the Spaniards with sacrifice
to their gods.
Leaving Sandoval in charge of the garrison at Texcoco, he left with three hundred and
fifty Spaniards under the command of Alvarado and Olid, and all the Tlaxcalan
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auxiliaries. Heading north he hoped that by following a circuitous route to hide his
intentions from the Aztecs. It didn't work; there may have been spies among the
Texcocans who revealed his plans. The town of Zaltocan was built on the lake and
approached by a causeway not unlike those of Tenochtitlan. When the Spaniards
advanced along the causeway, they found themselves surrounded by thousands of Aztec
canoes. Halfway across the dike they encountered an impassable breach; as the
blocked troops began to back up against one another, the enemy launched a hailstorm of
arrows and stones causing some injuries an much confusion.
The arquebusiers and crossbow men fired at the enemy in the canoes but found that they
were protected by bulwarks made from woven materials which defended them from the
Spanish fire. The Aztecs sensing the potential for another massacre began to emit their
blood curdling war whoops and, for a while it looked like the Spaniards might be
defeated. But fate intervened in the person of a deserter from the files of the Aztec allies
who pointed out a place where the waters could be forded to reach the town. Cortés
detached the major part of the infantry to ford the lake, and positioned himself with the
cavalry at the rear to protect the men from an attack from that quarter. With the water up
to their chests, the Spaniards waded across the lake reaching the town, and cutting down
all who stood in their way; most of the enemy fled in canoes. The town was sacked.
Continuing its march around the north end of the chain of lakes, the army came to the
town of Azcapotzalco on the western side and close to Tlacopan at the end of the
western causeway. Azcapotzalco was the slave market of the Aztecs, as well as the
place where the jewelers practiced their trade. The town was empty; nothing of value
could be found. Cortés decide to march on to Tlacopan where his army had once fled in
retreat after La Noche Triste; there he found a large body of Aztec defenders massed
before the city‘s walls. The Aztecs valiantly withstood the charges of Spanish cavalry
and the volleys from muskets and crossbows, but in the end were forced to give ground.
The Spaniards entered the suburbs of the city, and Cortés established his headquarters
there for the night.
The following morning, the Aztecs had regrouped and were again ready for battle. Cortés
charged; the natives broke and ran, and he followed with his men in hot pursuit entering
the causeway and crossing a bridge, which had been rebuilt after the Spaniards'
departure from Tenochtitlan. It was a trap; no sooner had Cortés and his men crossed
the bridge than the fleeing Aztecs turned to confront the Spaniards, and hundreds of
canoes closed in on the Spanish rearguard.
Missiles rained down from all directions with devastating effectiveness as the Spanish
forces were immobilized on the causeway. Cortés quickly realized he had been decoyed
onto the causeway, and seeing the danger this represented ordered his men to retreat -but fighting without turning their backs on the enemy. Fighting with great discipline, the
men presented an organized front to their enemies as they slowly retreated back along
the causeway. The going was hard, and the Spaniards were often attacked with long
pikes tipped with Spanish blades captured in earlier battles. Cortés' standard bearer, a
man by the name of Volante, was struck down and fell into the water where five Aztecs
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leaped upon him attempting to drag him into a canoe. Wounded and half drowning,
Volante, a man of great physical strength and courage, fought off his assailants and got
away with his banner still intact. For five days the Spaniards fought repeated battles with
the Aztecs; finally, they broke off and headed back to Texcoco..
The Aztecs interpreted this move as a retreat and sought to harass the rearguard of the
army as it made its way towards Texcoco. After a while, the repeated attacks and taunts
of the Aztecs became not only irritating, but also caused a number of casualties. Cortés
took a page from the Aztec‘s own book and set a trap for them. As the army marched
along the flat plain surrounding the lake, he detached two contingents of cavalry hiding
them in the woods along the way. When the Aztecs pursued the rear of the army, the
cavalry detachments came out of hiding and, in the open fields which favored action by
mounted forces, wreaked havoc on the enemy troops.
After this action, the Aztecs no longer threatened the army‘s march. Arriving in Texcoco,
Cortés gave his much battered troops a few days to rest up from the wounds and fatigue
suffered during the march around the lake. Eight Spaniards and two horses had died
during the expedition. The Tlaxcalans, loaded with booty from the sacking of the towns
along the way, requested permission to return home with their new found wealth; Cortés
granted the request. While at Texcoco, Cortés received a request from the people of
Chalco, a town on the southeastern end of the chain of lakes. The Chalcans wanted
protection from the Aztecs wto were attacking them and taking many of their people as
prisoners. Chalco was important to the Spaniards because of its location and the fact that
it was a major source of maize to supply the army and the native allies. Cortes detached
Sandoval with two hundred footsoldiers, twenty horse, twelve crossbow men, ten
arquebusiers, the remaining few Tlaxcalans in camp, and a contingent of Texcocans.
Marching towards Chalco, Sandoval and his men encountered the Aztec forces waiting
for them near a town called Oaxtepec. Deployed in three divisions, the Aztecs attacked
with much beating of drums, whistling and whooping. Crying "Santiago y a ellos!"
(Santiago and at them!), Sandoval led a cavalry charge against the advancing Aztecs.
The enemy had chosen the battlefield carefully, and the Spaniards found that the broken
ground with its tangled bushes made it difficult for the cavalry to maneuver effectively.
After sustaining some losses, among them one his best horsemen, Gonzalo Dominguez,
whose mount tripped and fell on him, Sandoval withdrew the cavalry. Instead, he brought
forward his arquebusiers and crossbow men who fired volley after devastating volley into
the enemy ranks. He followed through with a charge of infantrymen wielding swords and
pikes. The battered and bloodied Aztecs abandoned the field, withdrawing in some
disorder towards Oaxtepec.
After the battle, the Spaniards prepared to bivouac for the night, and were about to eat
their evening meal when the outposts gave the alarm; the Aztecs had returned and were
upon them. Accustomed to combat readiness, the Spaniards quickly formed ranks and
counterattacked the Aztecs pursuing them all the way into the town which they then
occupied. Most of the men were tired and many wounded; Sandoval himself had
suffered a head wound during the recent struggles.
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Although none of the Spaniards really relished another fight, after resting a couple of
days, Sandoval found it necessary to march against the Aztec garrison posted at another
town called Jacapixtla. The town was on a well defended height, and from it the enemy
could easily march on Chalco. Unless the large Aztec force stationed at this
fortified post were eliminated, Sandovalfe efforts to help the Chalcans would be
unsuccessful. Like it or not, Jacapixtla had to be taken.
The attack did not go well as the Aztecs were able to roll large rocks down the sides of
the mountain on the advancing forces forcing them to hide or retreat to avoid serious
injury. The native allies resulted particularly ineffective in this situation as they could find
no way to scale the heights without injury. Frustrated, Sandoval decided to lead the
attack himself. Rallying his Spaniards around him, he began the climb looking for
footholds and grabbing bushes to haul himself up. Ducking and dodging rocks and
arrows, the men clambered up the steep incline finally reaching the top after incredible
effort. There, they paused to catch their breath, and then furiously charged the
entrenched enemy forces. The Aztecs were soon routed, and those not killed by the
Spaniards in the battle were promptly dispatched by the native allies who followed close
behind.
Believing his mission accomplished, Sandoval returned with his battle worn troops to
Texcoco for a much deserved rest, and to report their success to Cortés. Unfortunately,
while Sandoval was busy reducing the enemy garrison in the area surrounding Chalco,
Cuauhtemotectzin‘s spies in the city reported that its defenses were undermanned
because of the large number of Chalcans accompanying the Spaniards. In an attempt to
take advantage of this situation, Cuauhtemoctzin sent a fleet of canoes across the lake
withsome twenty thousand warriors to attack Chalco. Just as Sandoval arrived to report
to Cortés, word arrived from Chalco of this new threat. Thinking Sandoval had been
negligent in his assignment, Cortés was angered and, without giving the doughty
commander a chance to explain his actions, ordered him to immediately march on
Chalco with those of his men who were still combat worthy.
As might be expected, Sandoval was much hurt by this unfair treatment, but he followed
the orders and set out for Chalco with his tired troops. In the interim, the Chalcans who
had been with Sandoval in the earlier actions had returned to the city, and also
received reinforcements from allies in other areas. W hen the Aztecs arrived,the
Chalcans, who had lost their awe of their enemy, and their allies made a good stand. The
battle was hard fought with many casualties and prisoners on both sides, but the
Chalcans prevailed and the Aztecs withdrew. By the time Sandoval arrived, it was all
over. The Chalcans, however, were happy to turn over a number of high ranking Aztec
prisoners to be taken to Texcoco. When Sandoval arrived back in Texcoco, still smarting
from the unjust treatment received earlier; he went directly to his quarters without
reporting to Cortes. Having learned the true facts, Cortes made amends to Sandoval and
the two men renewed their strong friendship.
.
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In the meantime, three ships from Hispaniola arrived at Villa Rica bringing reinforcements
and supplies, some two hundred men, over seventy horses and much needed arms and
gunpowder. The new arrivals made their way to Texcoco with ease as the route was now
open again; among them was a gentlemen by the name of Julian de Alderete, appointed
royal treasurer and charged by the authorities in Hispaniola with overseeing and
protecting the rights and interests of the crown. Cortés was eager to have the brigantines
ready for action, but another three weeks would be necessary before they could be
completed. The Aztecs were aware of their construction, and attempted on more than
one occasion to destroy them. A strong guard was posted around the construction site,
and many precautions were taken to not only prevent direct attacks by the enemy, but
also sabotage by spies and friends of the Aztecs.
While the building of the brigantines progressed, the Chalcans again came to Cortés to
request his assistance in eliminating additional Aztec strongholds which continued to
threaten the welfare of the town. Cortés needed Chalco and he also needed to get his
men out of camp where their idleness could eventually evolve into mischief. Leaving
Sandoval in charge of the Texcoco base, he set forth on Friday the 5 th of April, 1521, with
three hundred men, thirty horse, twenty crossbow men and ten arquebusiers, as well as a
large contingent of Tlaxcalan and Texcocan allies. Among the officers were Pedro de
Alvarado, Andres de Tapia, Cristobal de Olid and the new treasurer Julian de Alderete.
Arriving in Chalco on the next day, he met with the chiefs of many of the allied native
nations. Speaking through Doña Marina, he explained his strategy; he would first secure
the towns around the lake before initiating a blockade of Tenochtitlan, and then he would
put the thirteen brigantines into action. To do this, however, he required their maximum
support and asked them report the following day to Chalco with as many men as they
could possible muster. The chiefs responded with action, and the next day, Cortés had
more native warriors following his banner than ever before.
The campaign that ensued took the men through some of the rockiest and difficult terrain
in the country. Several battles were fought against the Aztecs and their allies who were
entrenched in fortresses high up in the mountains. In what often amounted to skirmishes
rather than full battles, Cortes found himself losing more men than he could afford to
boulders rolled down mountainsides by the entrenched enemy. Several small towns were
taken and Oaxtepec revisited on the way to a town called Quauhnahuac (now known as
Cuernavaca). Arriving before the town, the Spaniards found the path interrupted by a
deep ravine that had originally been spanned by two bridges, but the defenders had
destroyed them earlier. The army's position was unfavorable as the Spaniards were
within easy reach of the defenders' arrows whereas the enemy, sheltered behind their
defenses, could not be reached by the attackers' gunfire.
Cortés sent some men down into the depths of the ravine to search for a path across the
stream there and up the other side. Word came back that there was a place about a mite
and a half away where the horses could cross. Cortes took off with the remaining cavalry
to ford the stream. In the meantime, the remainder of the troops, still under enemy fire,
tried to figure out a way across the ravine. One of the Tlaxcalans spotted some trees
growing near the edges on both sides of the ravine whose interlaced branches might
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allow a man to crawl across the chasm. The Tlaxcalan tried it and was successful in
crossing to the other side. He was followed by several of his companions. Then the
Spaniards decided they too would try it, but it was quite another thing for a man in full
armor. Although three men fell into the stream at the bottom of the ravine, several of the
Spaniards made it across, and with the accompanying Tlaxcalans fell upon the rear of
the defenders who were taken completely by surprise; at about this time, Cortés showed
up with the cavalry and the city was taken.
Having cleared the hinterland of immediate threats to his planned campaign, Cortés
turned toward the lakes again. After a hard march over the mountains of Serrania de
Aljivisco, taking them at times as high as ten thousand feet above sea level, the
Spaniards and their allies returned to the beautiful Valley of Mexico. Cortés had chosen
as next target the island of Xochimilco (Field of Flowers) in the lake of the same name at
the southern end of the chain of lakes. A wealthy city and a staunch ally of the Aztecs,
Xochimilco was linked to the mainland by a short causeway. As the army advanced
toward its objective, a shortage of water along the way caused severe hardship with at
least one Spaniard and one Tlaxcalan dying of thirst. Scouting parties were sent out to
seek sources of water, but very little was found. The patrols did report that a large body
of enemy warriors awaited the army up ahead. In view of the possibility of imminent
battle, Cortés decided to rest his men and ordered them to camp where they were.
Fortunately, it rained a little that night and some water was probably collected to slake the
thirst of the men.
Early the next day, the army resumed its march and arrived near Xochimilco around eight
o'clock in the morning. The enemy forces awaited them, posted practically everywhere;
some on the mainland, others behind palisades erected at the opposite end of a broken
bridge, and many others in canoes. Breaking through the forces on the mainland, the
army reached the causeway but its advance was stymied by the forces on the opposite
side of the fallen bridge. Arquebusiers and crossbow men were unable to pick off the
defenders behind the palisade while the halted army came under steady attack from the
flanks. As the pressure from the attacking defenders grew, some of the Spaniards leapt
into the water and managed to half wade and swim across the gap where they forced the
enemy to retreat at sword point. To protect the men who had made it across the gap,
Cortés and his cavalry turned about and charged the large number of Aztecs on the
mainland who threatened their rear.
The Aztecs were beginning to learn how to resist cavalry charges employing the long
pikes tipped with captured sword points. At one point in the battle Cortés, having
returned near the entrance to the city, was among several horsemen charging the
enemy, who using their new weapons managed to wound four horsemen. In the press,
Cortes' horse, El Romo (Snubnosed), either lost its footing or just plain collapsed from
fatigue, fell tossing the commander into the waiting arms of the Aztecs who began to drag
him off, a worthy prize to be sacrificed to Huitzilipochtli. One of the Tlaxcalan warriors
saw what was happening, and with desperate fury plunged into the midst of the fray
swinging his sharp maquahuitl temporarily delaying the captors in their efforts to carry
Cortes away. The valiant Tlaxcalan was soon joined by others and by two of the
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Spaniards; one of them was a soldier by the name of Cristobal de Olea , who helped
Cortes to remount his horse, and suffered three serious wounds while doing so; Cortés
also suffered a head wound.
The rest of the Spaniards were spread out along the streets of the city surrounded by
enemy warriors pressing them on all sides, but they knew that where the battle was
loudest and hottest was where Cortés could be found. They quickly rallied to his aid, and
soon there were fifteen horsemen fighting alongside as they pulled back to a safer
position. The Aztecs interpreted this move as a retreat and pressed even harder. In the
meantime, the other half of the cavalry had run into trouble as their numbers were not
large enough to impact the enemy. Cristobal de Olid and Andres de Tapia were covered
with blood, as were the other horsemen and their mounts, all having been wounded
fighting against the large number of enemy troops amassed in the open field.
It seems Cortés may have made a mistake by dividing his forces; either that or the
Aztecs had outmaneuvered him by attacking the army front and rear using their greater
numbers to good advantage. The Aztecs chose this moment to attack again from the
streets on the mainland, and the Spaniards responded with energy charging with such
force that they cleared the field. Some of the infantrymen had come to a square where
they climbed the largest Teocalli to gain a view of the enemy‘s dispositions. They could
see across the lakes to Tenochtitlan and, in the distance, there was a fleet of some two
thousand canoes headed their way. It was later learned from captured prisoners that
Cuauhtemoctzin‘s strategy had been for the troops in the canoes to attack the Spaniards
that evening, or the following morning from the lakeside while another ten thousand
warriors attacked from the mainland; it was intended that not a single Spaniard should
escape the trap.
Cortés was not aware of the enemy's plan but knew that with night approaching, he
would probably be better off holding a defensive position than trying to maintain battle
cohesiveness with a tired army marching in the dark. He posted sentries at all the
possible landing places and kept his men on alert to respond to a right attack. The men
slept in armor with their weapon‘s at their sides; the horses were kept saddled and
bridled. The crossbow men and arquebusiers, having expended all their arrows and
powder during the day, were put by Corteé to manufacture new arrows from captured
materials. Cortés and his officers shared the watch throughout the night and made the
rounds of the sentry posts. At one location, two of his veteran soldiers were alert and on
guard, and when Cortés approached them without responding to their challenge, they
threw rocks at him; he congratulated the men for their alertness. At another location
where some of the Narvaez men were posted, two of them were caught napping; Cortés
had them flogged. During the night some of the Aztecs attempted to disembark, but were
repulsed by the alert defenders.
At daylight, the Aztecs advanced toward the large square where the Spaniards were
encamped. This time, the Spaniards used their disadvantage to their advantage by
attacking on two fronts, the cavalry towards the mainland and the infantry accompanied
by the Tlaxcalans in the other. The tactic was effective, and the enemy retreated with
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many losses. As the cavalry pursued the fleeing, enemy on the mainland, they came
upon the ten thousand reinforcements sent by Cuauhtemoctzin. At the head of the
advancing enemy columns, some of the Aztec leaders brandished captured Spanish
swords and boasted they would kill them with their own weapons. The cavalry wisely
refused to engage so large a body, and returned to report to Cortes. Gathering all his
forces, including wounded men and horses, Cortés marched the Spaniards and
Tlascalans out into the open field to meet the advancing Aztecs. Taking the initiative,
Cortés and his men charged the enemy ranks causing great damage ,and forcing them to
retreat in disorder.
Among the prisoners taken were several chiefs who Cortés interrogated. From them he
learned that Cuauhtemoctzin was sending yet another fleet of canoes against them in the
belief that the Spaniards and their allies would be too few and too weary by now to resist
further attacks, and would probably not be as alert nor expect another attack. Corteé
decided that they would leave the city on the following day, and not expose themselves to
any more attacks. While the men were resting from the day‘s exertions and attending to
the wounded, some of the Spaniards followed a few of the Tlaxcalans on a plundering
expedition to some houses on the outskirts of town. They were busy gathering loot when
a force of Aztecs disembarked from canoes and fell upon them. In the ensuing fight,
several of the Spaniards were wounded and four of them carried off as prisoners. They
were taken before Cuauhtemoctzin who interrogated them to determine the size and
condition of the Spanish forces. Once he had the necessary information, he ordered
them sacrificed to the idols, and their heads, arms and legs cut off, and sent to the cities
of the Spanish allies with word that not a single Spaniard would be left alive to return to
Texcoco.
Despite Cortés' intention to leave the city the next day to avoid further battles, the
following morning a host of Aztecs once more awaited them front and rear. Again the
Spaniards charged and broke the enemy formations. Cortés then gathered his men in a
large square on the mainland, and told them of the dangers that awaited them on their
march, suggesting that they leave their loot behind so that might march and fight
unencumbered. In the true spirit of mercenaries of all times, the men protested saying
they felt there were manly enough to fight and also defend their property. The army
started its march with the baggage and the wounded in the middle protected by crossbow
men and Tlaxcalan warriors. Viewing the Spaniards withdrawal as a retreat, the Aztecs
attempted to pursue them, and attacked the rear and flanks of the army several times
during the day. Although a number of Spaniards were wounded, the army
held together maintaining good marching order and arrived at the town of Coyoacan
at about ten o'clock in the morning. Cortés decided to camp there and the men made
use of the day to rest and to manufacture more arrows for the battles they knew they
would still have to fight.
The following day they left for Tlacopan the city at the end of the western causeway to
Tenochtitlan. Along the way, Cortés took ten horsemen and set off to lay a trap for the
Aztecs who would often sally forth from creeks to attack the Spaniards. He found a small
number of them close by and pursued them. He discovered that he had fallen into a trap
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when a large number of warriors came out of hiding and surrounded the Spaniards. They
beat a hasty retreat but not before several men and horses were wounded and two of the
men carried off to be sacrificed. The survivors barely made it to Tlacopan to join the
main army where their delay had many concerned that some disaster might have
overtaken them. Corteé arrived haggard -ooking and teary eyed mourning the loss of his
men. Accompanied by Julian de Alderete, the treasurer, and some of the other newly
arrived officers,
Corées climbed the local TeocaUi; from there they could see as far as Tenochtitlan less
than three miles away. The view of the city, the network of canals and causeways,
canoes flitting to and fro bearing passengers, goods and warriors was impressive and, to
the new comers, astonishing. They marveled at what they saw, and the fact that Cortes
and his men had been able to survive in the midst of such power; that they had done as
well as they had was considered a sign of divine protection. While his companions
excitedly commented on the marvels they beheld, Cortes brooded silently over his recent
loss and the losses to come before the beautiful Tenochtitlan must be reduced and the
souls of its citizens brought into the fold of the Church. It was a rare moment of quiet
darkness over the spirit of this energetic, inspired yet hardheaded commander
.
The army continued its march north tc Atzcapotzalco and then on to Tenayocac. Both
towns were deserted and, although the Spaniards rested briefly in each, they continued
their march to the large town of Cuauhtitlan, which was also deserted; there, after having
marched in the rain all day, they rested. The following day, they again marched in the
rain and trudged through the heavy mud passing through more deserted towns, the
largest of which was Citlaltepec, until finally arriving at Acolman ,which was a Texcocan
town. There, they were met by Sandoval and Ixtilxochitl (ruler of Texcoco) with the good
news that the thirteen brigantines were finished, and the channel to launch them was
also ready. They had been gone three weeks and marched the complete distance
around the lake. Cortés and all of his men looked forward to a well earned rest when
they entered Texcoco on the following day.
It was not to be. A conspiracy headed by one Antonio de Villafana, a good friend of
governor Velasquez,, and involving several of the Narvaez men had been brewing for
some time. These men no longer wanted to be a part of the conquest, preferring to
eschew the dangers of so seemingly an impossible enterprise against such great odds.
They wanted to return to Cuba, but Cortés controlled the means for them to do so. The
only way out was to get rid of Cortés and his high command. The plan was to prepare a
parcel, and present it to Cortes at the dinner table describing it as recently arrived from
Martin Cortés in Spain. While Cortes was busy opening the package, the conspirators
would fall upon him and his commanders killing them with their daggers.
The conspirators had chosen a succesor to Cortes, Francisco Verdugo, brother in law of
Governor Velasquez, an honorable officer who had no part in, or knowledge of, the
conspiracy. They had also divided up among themselves the key posts of expedition and
the property of those who would be assassinated. One of the conspirators had a change
of heart, and revealed all the details of the plot to Cortés. The commander wasted no
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time; he secretly gathered his key officers, Pedro de Alvarado, Gonzalo de Sandoval,
Cristobal de Olid, Francisco de Lugo, Andres de Tapia, Bernal Diaz del Castillo, Luis
Marin and Pedro de Ircio, and informed them of the plot. With them and four officers of
justice he went to the conspirator's quarters. He found Villafana with four of his fellow
conspirators and arrested them. Taken completely by surprise, Vilafana tried to swallow
a list with the signatures of the conspirators, but Cortés snatched it from his hand.
Reading the list, he identified many well known names. It is a sign of Cortés' intelligence
and subtlety that ,instead of using the list to prosecute each and every one of the
conspirators, he destroyed it and gave orders to spread the story that Villafana had
swallowed the list before anyone could get to it. He needed every man in his army; better
to keep most of the conspirators wondering if he knew than to know that he did, and take
action on that knowledge.
A military court was convened which tried Villlafana and sentenced him to death by
hanging. During the trial, Villafana told the truth and his statements were verified by
several witnesses. As soon as Villafana had confessed his sins to the priest Juan Diaz
(who, ironically, had been involved in an earlier conspiracy against Cortés), Villafana was
hanged from the window of his room for all to see. Cortés called the army together and
explained what had happened. He stated that Villafana had implicated no one else.
Saying he had never knowingly offended or hurt anyone of them, but that if anyone
harbored a resentment or hurt for whatever reason, he encouraged that person or those
persons to come forward that he might address such grievances fairly. As could be
expected, no one did, the conspirators being all too happy at just having escaped (so
they thought) detection. Cortés never let the conspirators know by his actions that he
knew who they were and treated them kindly, but he never trusted them. At the insistence
of his officers, he accepted a guard be posted around him day and night. The honor of
this duty went to a gentleman by the name of Antonio de Quinones who, with six other
men ,protected their commander from then on.
With the conspiracy behind him (or at least quiescent), Cortés now turned with renewed
energy to the task of mustering enough forces for the conquest of Tenochtitilan. To the
Tlaxcalans, Xolulans, Chalcans, Texcocans, and all allied peoples, he sent messengers
requesting they send troops for this final assault on the capital of their great enemy. He
also asked certain of them to prepare eight thousand arrows of a special wood and an
equal number of copper arrowheads. The brlgantines were now fully rigged and ready for
launching.
The mile and a half canal which would allow them to access the lake had been
completed. Twelve feet wide and equal in depth, it had occupied close to eight thousand
men for two months digging, constructing dams and locks, and reinforcing the sides with
masonry in some parts and wooden palisades in others. Cortés had assumed he would
find enough men among his Spaniards to man and row the boats, but found out
otherwise. Not enough men had seafaring backgrounds, or enough experience to even
know how to row a boat. Anyone who had served as a seaman, been seen or known to
go fishing, or was born or lived in Palos, Moguer, Triana, or other sea town, regardless of
nobility or hidalgo status, was conscripted for rowing. Some of the latter refused to do
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such menial work, but Cortes threatened them with heavy penalties and forced them to
accept this chore. As it later turned out, the rowers came out ahead of most other
combatants because they were usually in a better position to take advantage of the
opportunities for plunder.
On the 28th of April, 1521, when all was in readiness, Cortes ordered a general review of
his Spanish troops. H e counted six hundred and fifty infantry armed with swords, shields
and pikes, a hundred and ninety four arquebusiers and crossbow men, and eighty four
horsemen. After a solemn mass, the brigantines were launched one by one into the
canal, and safely made their way into the lake where they lined up and fired their canon
in salute to their commander, his troops, and tine population of Texcoco ,which had
turned out in force to see the brave spectacle. The sight of the thirteen vessels with their
sails unfurled and their Castilian pennants gallantly streaming as the paraded on the
water must have warmed the hearts of the men who had labored so hard to make them a
reality.
The Death of Tenochtitlan
Cortés had asked the Tlaxcalans to meet him at Texcoco; fifty thousand arrived under the
leadership Xicotencatl the Younger. The proud warriors paraded through the streets with
their white feathered banners on high, wearing full military regalia and shouting hurrahs
for Talaxcala and Castile. According to Alonso de Ojeda, it took three days for the
Tlaxcalans to march through and even a city as large as -Tlaxecla did not have room for
them all. The other native forces were instructed to gather at Chalco. Cortés divided his
forces into three groups, one for each causeway to ensure the slow but certain
strangulation of the capital city. The first of these was under the command of Pedro de
Alvarado, and comprised of a hundred and sixty eight infantrymen, eighteen arquebusiers
and crossbow men, thirty horsemen, and twenty five thousand Tlaxcalans. With Alvarado
were his brother, Jorge de Alvarado, Andres de Monjaraz, and Gutierrez de Badajoz. To
each of these captains Cortés assigned equal numbers of infantrymen, arquebusiers and
crossbow men; the cavalry and eight thousand Tlaxcalans were assigned directly to
Pedro de Alvarado. Their objective was the causeway at Tlacopan.
The second group was assigned to Cristobal de Olid, and contained a hundred and
seventy eight infantrymen, twenty arquebusiers and crossbow men, thirtythree
horsemen, and twenty thousand Tlaxcalans. W ith De Olid were Francisco Verdugo,
Francisco de Lugo and Andres de Tapia. This group was assigned to the causeway
that stared at Coyoacan.
The third group came under the leadership of Gonzalo de Sandoval with a hundred and
sixty seven infantrymen, fourteen arquebusiers and crossbow men, twenty four
horsemen, and thirty thousand warriors from among the Chalcans and other native allies.
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With De Sandoval were Luis Marin and Pedro de Ircio. Their target was the causeway at
Ixtapalapan.
Cortés retained command of tine thirteen brigantines. Each of the brigantines would
have twelve arquebusiers and crossbow men, and twelve oarsmen, six to a side. All the
Spaniards were instructed to wear full armor, well quilted, helmets, shields, neck guards,
and leggings to protect themselves against the javelins, arrows and stones of the enemy..
To coordinate the arrival of the various parts of the siege force, the
Tlaxcalans were sent on ahead to be followed a day later by the Spanish and other native
troops. At the appropriate time, Cortés would also set sail with the Brigantines.
When the Tlaxcalan army had marched some distance from Texcoco, a strange thing
happened: Xicotencatl defected. The other Tlaxcalan commander, Chichimecatl,
inquired about the disappeared leader and was told that he had decided to return to
Tlaxcala. The real reasons for Xicotencatl's defection may never be known, but he may
have been attempting a coup. Xicotencatl's dislike of the Spaniards was well known, and
he had also voiced his opinion that the venture against Tenochtitlan was doomed to
failure. By this time, Maxicatzin had died and the elder Xicotenatl was now blind;
Chichimecatl was the only other major figure in the Tlaxcalan power structure. It is
possible that Xicotencatl may have decided t take over the government in the absence of
Chichimecatl and form an alliance with the Aztecs against the Spaniards who he
considered the greater threat to his nation. Chichimecatl immediately sent word to Cortés
of Xicotencatl's actions. Cortés quickly interpreted the political significance of
Xicotencatl's defection and sent a party of Tlaxcalan and Texcocan warriors to parley
with him, and persuade him to return. The detachment caught up with Xicotencatl, and
attempted to reason with him pointing out that his actions were dishonorable and would
shame his father and his nation. Xicotencatl would not change his mind and further
stressed his distrust of the Spaniards. When the emissaries retruned with Xicotenatl‘s
reply, Cortés wasted no time considering alternatives; he dispatched a group
of horsemen after him. Their instructions were to find Xicotenatl, and regardless of
where they might find him, even if he were in Tlaxcala itself, arrest him. They were to
bring him back for execution because that was the penalty for desertion. Cortés sent
Cristobal de Olid to inform the Tlaxcalan senate of Xicotencatl's desertion, and to tell
them that Spanish law demanded a sentence of death for such actions. The Tlaxcalans
sent back the answer that the same sentence was applicable under their laws. Pedro de
Alvarado argued strongly against the decision. To placate his lieutenant, Cortés
indicated he might not carry out the sentence, but secretly ordered XicotencatL hanged.
Cortés publicly proclaimed the reasons for the execution and, in the name of the
Spanish crown, also confiscated Xicotencatl's properties. Cortes' swift action eliminated
the one man who could have destroyed his alliance with tine Tlaxcalans and unraveled all
his plans of conquest.
Cortes' troubles were not over. He had outlined a plan of action to his commanders;
Sandoval would march his division around the southern end of the chain of lake.
Alvarado and Olid would march their divisions around the northern end. The latter were to
advance first to Tlacopan and then to Chapultepec where they would cut off the water
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supply to Tenochtitlan by destroying the acueduct t there. Their first stop along the way
was the small town of Aculman, still within Texcocan territory. Olid arrived first and took
the best quarters for his own men, leaving no place for Alvarado and his troops.
Discussion of the matter between the troops of both divisions became heated with some
of the men reaching for their weapons, and the two leaders snapping at one another.
Cortes got wind of the matter, and promptly sent Fray Pedro de Melagrejo with Luis Marin
to make peace between the parties. A reconciliation was reached but too much had
been said in the heat of the moment ,and Alvarado and Olid were never on good terms
again.
The next day, Thursday, May 23, 1521, the two divisions continued their march around
the north end of Lake Tzumpanco. That day and the following two days were spent on
the march passing through abandoned towns whose inhabitants had fled to Tenochtitlan
to reinforce the city's defenders. On the evening of the 25th of May, they arrived at
Tlacopan and camped there. During the night, the Aztecs taunted the Spaniards and
their allies from canoes and the causeway challenging them to come out and fight. With
the experience of their nightmarish battle on the causeway in the darkness of night still
fresh in their minds, the Spaniards were not tempted into any foolhardy displays of
courage.
They let the Aztecs rail on through the night and, after a good rest, and early morning
mass said by Father Juan Diaz, the two divisions advanced on Chapultepec about a mile
and a half away. The Aztecs were fully aware of the Spaniards' intentions, and had
stationed a large body of troops nearby to defend the aqueduct. Waiting until the
Spaniards were on uneven ground where the cavalry was at a disadvantage, the Aztecs
unleashed volleys of arrows, stones and javelins wounding several Spaniards. After
some hard fighting, the Spaniards and the Tlaxcalans managed to disperse the enemy
troops. Gaining control of the aqueduct which had been built during the reign of Ahuitzotl
and was an outstanding example of Aztec engineering skill, the Spaniards broke the
pipes that carried water for the inhabitants of Tenochtitlan. The fountains
that graced the Aztec capital ceased flowing ,and the city lost its main water supply.
The Spaniards decided to immediately march upon the causeway at Tlacopan. There
they found hordes of Aztec warriors awaiting them on the causeway and in canoes.
The cavalry could not be used to advantage against the barricades built along the
causeway. Arquebusiers and crossbow men kept up a steady stream of fire against the
canoes in the lake but were ineffective because of the wooden bulwarks the Aztecs had
mounted on them for protection. The Spaniards tried to reach a bridge on the causeway
with hopes of keeping the enemy from destroying it. The Aztecs fell back, allowing the
Spaniards and Tlaxcalans to reach the bridge and cross it. Once the Spanish forces were
on both sides of the bridge and divided, the Aztecs fell upon them with such force that in
the eight paces wide space of the causeway it was nearly impossible for them to use their
weapons and skills to: advantage. Smothered by the superior numbers of Aztec warriors
on all sides, the Spaniards and their allies suffered many wounds. They also inflicted
much damage upon the Aztecs but not enough to gain a breakthrough. After an hour of
intense hand to hand fighting, they saw a large fleet of canoes approaching. Fearing the
additional forces would be able to turn their flank, the Spaniards opted for an orderly
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retreat to the mainland. They had suffered eight dead, more than fifty wounded, and the
loss of one horse. They spent the night in Tlacopan treating their wounds.
The next morning, Cristobal de Olid took his troops and left for Coyoacan where Cortés
had instructed him to station his division. De Olid was unhappy with the results of the
previous day's battle, and blamed Alvarado for his impetuousness in engaging their
forces in such a disadvantageous match. The next days were spent raiding the
countryside for supplies, and waiting for Cortés with the brigantines.
On Friday, the 31st of May, Sandoval set forth with his division from Texcoco. When he
reached Chalco, his forces were substantially increased by the influx of thousands of
allied troops. From there, they marched against Ixtapalapan where they found a large
force of Aztecs ready to receive them. The Aztecs fought with courage and skill, but
were finally forced back by the Spaniards and their allies. The houses on dry land were
put to the torch, and as the Spaniards advanced towards those built upon the water, a
fleet of canoes attacked them. As they were engaged in this battle, they saw smoke
signals rising from several locations around the lake; Cortes was approaching with the
brigantines. As the Spanish fleet neared the southern end of the lake it passed a hill from
which an Aztec garrison showered it with arrows, javelins and stones. Unwilling to
leave this force at his rear, Cortés disembarked a hundred and fifty men and personally
led them up the hill. Climbing in the face of a continual barrage of missiles from above,
Cortés and his men finally reached the summit where they put the entire garrison to the
sword. Twenty five Spaniards were injured in this battle. From the height, Corteé was
able to see the lake begin to darken with hundreds of canoes headed his way. He
rushed down to his brigantine, and prepared for a naval battle.
Cortes knew that the coming battle was crucial; if the siege were to be effective and the
campaign successful, the Aztecs must learn to fear the power of the brigantines.
Unfortunately, there was no wind so Cortes ordered the vessels to await the approach of
the canoes. About five hundred canoes came within two crossbow shots of the
brigantines and then halted their advance. The two fleets stood at a distance, staring at
one another in silence, neither one quite knowing what to do at that moment; it was a
standoff. Just then a breeze came up; Cortés ordered sails unfurled and, lining up his
ships in battle formation, advanced upon the canoes. The overcrowded dugouts could
not move fast enough to get out of the way of the larger vessels; many were rammed
and sent to the bottom leaving the survivors struggling to stay afloat in theaters. As the
Spanish ships advanced, they unleashed volleys of cannon and musket fire on either side
raking the stunned Aztec warriors in the canoes.
Dazed by the carnage, the Aztecs got off only a few volleys of arrows and stones, and
then paddled furiously to get away from the fast moving wind-powered vessels. The
brigantines chased the remaining canoes as far as Ixtapalapan where the survivors took
refuge in waters too shallow for their pursuers. Although it was already late in the day,
Cortés decided to capitalize his victory and, in a daring move, took the fleet towards
Xoloc, the point where the causeways from Coyoacan and Ixtapalan met. Seeing the
fleet advance, Cristobla de Olid and his men charged the causeway from Coyoacan, and
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in a fierce battle captured the barricades passing beyond several points where the
bridges had been destroyed. They were assisted by the brigantines which came close to
the causeway and dispersed the enemy canoes on the eastern side.
In the meantime, Corées disembarked with thirty men and, in a hard fight with the
surprised Aztec garrison, took the two towers at Acachinanco about a mile and a half
from Tenochtitlan. He immediately unloaded the heavy cannon, brought in the
brigantines, and then fired a volley along the causeway, causing great damage to the
enemy. In the excitement of the moment, the gunner made a mistake and accidentally
blew up all the gunpowder on hand, so Cortés had to send one of the brigantines to
Sandoval at Ixtapalapan to bring back all the gunpowder that commander had in his
supplies. Cortés had originally intended to headquarter in Coyoacan, but, having gained
this advantageous position, he quickly garrisoned it with half of De Olid's men and fifty of
Sandoval's troops. It was well that he did so because, to the Spaniards' great surprise,
that night the Aztecs attacked along the causeway and by canoe. This was a first; before
then the Aztecs had never attacked at night unless absolutely sure of a victory. The
brigantines provided support to the Spaniards fighting on the causeway by firing their
canon at the canoes attacking from the lake. In the morning, the Aztecs attacked again,
but the Spaniards managed to advance capturing an opening where a bridge had been
removed. While the Spaniards fought their way along the causeway, they were steadily
harassed by volleys from canoes in the waters on the west side. Cortés ordered the gap
widened and four brigantines passed to the other side, and chased the remaining canoes
away. The following day, June 2nd, Cortés ordered Sandoval to advance along the
causeway between Ixtapalapan and Coyoacan. He did so with difficulty as the natives put
up a strong defense. On several occasions, Sandoval called upon the brigantines to
serve as bridges at places where the causeway was broken. Eventually, the inexorable
superiority of Spanish weapons and tactical skills prevailed, and the causeway was
cleared of enemy troops.
Early in the day, Sandoval suffered an arrow wound in his foot, but continued to fight until
the battle was over. With Cortés on the southern causeway and Alvarado on the
western, the Spaniards controlled most of tine access to the city. A lvarado, from his
vantage point at Tlacopan was able to observe much coming and going along the
northern causeway and notified Cortés of this activity. Cortés then sent Sandoval with a
hundred and twenty infantry, twenty three horsemen and eighteen arquebusiers,and
crossbow men to take and occupy tine town of Tepeyac at the northern end of that
causeway. Despite his wound, Sandoval accomplished his mission and the Spaniards
now had isolated Tenochtitlan from the mainland. At the same time, the Spaniards
discovered a canal large enough to admit the brigantines which enabled them to
penetrate into the suburbs of the city. Using this canal, they were able to constantly
harass canoe traffic and brought it to a near standstill.
Unwilling to sit out a passive blockade, Cortés determined to press his advantage by
attacking the city. At his position, he had two hundred infantrymen, including twenty five
arquebusiers and crossbow men, and an additional two hundred and fifty men in the
brigantines, plus a large number of native allies. He brought up more reinforcements from
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Coyoacan and posted the remainder of that garrison with ten horsemen and ten thousand
native allies at the entrance to the causeway to protect the rear. Ordering Alvarado and
Sandoval to attack at the same time, he advanced along the causeway. He soon
encountered strong resistance at a point where a bridge had been removed and a
masonry barricade had been erected on the opposite side of the gap. Both sides fought
hard, but the Spaniards soon crossed the gap, and continued their advance
along the causeway until reaching the next and much wider breach near the entrance to
the city.
The bridge had been raised and another barricade built on the opposite side. Cortés
moved the brigantines up on the both sides of the barricade, and caught the defenders in
a withering crossfire that forced them to withdraw. The Spanish infantrymen aboard the
brigantines disembarked and sprang up the sides of the causeway to pursue the fleeing
Aztecs. They were joined by others of their companions who eagerly swam across the
gap to engage in the fighting, and by eight thousand Tlaxcalan, Texcocan and Chalcan
warriors. Cortés ordered the gap filled with bricks and masonry from the barricade, and
continued the advance. They soon reached another barricade, this one across the main
access avenue into the city. There was no canal at this point, and the Spaniards quickly
broke through. They then came to yet another bridgeless canal defended by another
barricade and missile fire from nearby rooftops. The brigantines could not help here, but
Cortés ordered up the cannon and fired a thundering salvo down the street. Seeing the
damage caused by the artillery, many of the Spaniards leapt into the water and advanced
to the opposite side. After a two hour battle, the position was taken.
The Spaniards again advanced; this time they came upon a bridge which had not been
raised as the defenders never expected them to advance that far in a single day. Once
again, Cortés' sense of urgency and his penchant for action had caught the enemy
unprepared for such audacity. The Spaniards were now in the heart of the city. Bringing
up the troops from the rearguard who had been busy filling in the gaps in the causeway,
Cortés ordered the native allies to level buildings alongside the main avenue to deprive
the enemy of parapets from which to fire the arrows and stones upon them. As they
approached the great square, the Spaniards found the alarm of their advance had spread
throughout tine city and great numbers of Aztecs were massing to confront them. The
native hordes were sc great they could not fit into the main square. Placing a cannon at
the entrance to the square, Cortés set up a steady barrage that caused great carnage
among the pressing throngs of Aztec warriors. Between the cannon fire and the fierce
assaults of the thousands of excited Tlaxcalan and other native allies, the Aztecs were
temporarily routed.
The Spaniards were in familiar territory now with Axayacatl's palace on one side,
Motecuzoma's palace on the other and ahead of them, surrounded by the
Coatepantll or Wall of Serpents, was the great Teocalli. The temple enclosure
was described by the Spaniards as large enough to contain four hundred houses.
As soon as a breach was found they rushed into it and, rushing up the winding
sides of the pyramid, took the temple. The idol of Huitzilipochtli had been replaced with a
new one decorated with a golden mask and many jewels which the Spaniards were quick
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to appropriate. The few Aztec priests who had been unfortunate enough to not flee in
time were unceremoniously hurled down the sides of the pyramid by the battle flushed
Spaniards. In the meantime, the Aztecs regrouped and, seeing the sacrileges perpetrated
by the Spaniards, and the fact that there were no horsemen around, counterattacked in
force. Outrage and vengeance in their hearts, the courageous Aztec warriors threw
themselves with blind fury upon the Spaniards and their allies driving them off of the
pyramid and out of the temple enclosure. The fierce surge pushed the Spaniards back so
quickly that they were unable to mount an organized defense, and retreating in panicky
disorder were forced to abandon their cannon in the main square.
The retreat was on the verge of turning into: a rout, with Cortés desperately trying to rally
his men into some semblance of combat order, when three horsemen appeared on the
scene. Despite their limited numbers, the cavaliers charged plunging into the fray with
such force that the rout was halted. Soon they were joined by other horsemen, and,
seeing the tide of battle turn again, Cortés counterattacked. Atop a nearby tower, a
dozen Aztec chieftains were taking advantage of the height to direct their forces against
the embattled Spaniards. Five Spaniards observed their position, and climbing
over a hundred steps reached the summit where they put the defenders to the sword.
The Spaniards again advanced to the great square and recovered their cannon; then, as
night was now approaching, Cortés had the trumpeters recall the troops. The Spaniards
fell back along the causeway with the native allies leading the way, followed by the
Spanish infantry and the cavalry. Retreating orderly, the army was able to defend itself
against the constant pressure of the Aztec attacks as the courageous natives hurled
themselves in waves of unrelenting fury against the Spanish rear. The cavalry charged
and countercharged numerous times to break the impact of the Aztec assaults. Finally
the Spaniards and their allies made it back to their camp at Xoloc.
The attacks by Alvarado and Sandoval had also made progress but not as much as
that of the main body under Cortés as they were not supported by the brigantines. Cortés
later remedied this disadvantage by assigning three vessels to each of the commanders.
The success of the Spaniards in gaining the heart of the city in their first assault upon it
astonished the Aztecs and somewhat disheartened them; it seemed as if all their
defensive preparations had been for naught. This result was not lost upon some of the
Aztecs' allies and tributaries who chose this moment to seek the protection of the
Spaniards and join forces against their former masters. Among these were the
inhabitants of Xochimilco, and the Otomis a hardy race that lived on the outskirts of
the Aztec empire. At this time, Ixtilxochitl, prince of Texcoco, also arrived with the rest of
his forces which numbered close to fifty thousand. Cortés was eager to attack the enemy
again before he could recover from the effects of the day's battle, but there were many
preparations to be made for the new assault. On the 14th of June he gave orders for all
forces to readythemselves for an attack within two days. The order of battle was to be the
same as on the previous assault with Alvarado and Sandoval attacking at the
same time along the other causeways . In all cases the Spanish infantry would lead the
way followed by the native allies and the cavalry, and with the brigantines sailing
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alongside. After hearing mass, on Sunday, June 16th, Cortés and his forces advanced
along the causeway.
The three days of non--combat had been put t good use by the Aztecs; two thirds of the
breaches had been reopened and the materials removed to keep the Spaniards from
using them to bridge the gaps. Once again the cannon and the brigantines were brought
up to clear the way of defenders while the breaches were filled and passed. Half a day
was lost in this effort ,and the troops did not reach the suburbs until an hour after noon.
The Aztecs fought courageously not granting an inch of ground without exacting a price
for it in wounded and dead enemies. Fighting from building to building, they showed no
intention of retreating nor willingness to surrender. By the time Cortés reached the main
square again, it was getting dark. Many of the troops were still engaged in rebuilding the
broken passages in the causeway, and Cortés decided not to attempt any further
advance for that day.
As the day came to an end, Cortés reflected upon the action of the day. It was apparent
that the defenders would not be intimidated into surrender. He dreaded the thought of
continuous battle until all the inhabitants were destroyed and wondered if anything might
strike enough fear into their hearts to illuminate the hopelessness of their plight. He
resolved that a sign was needed to convey the fate that awaited the defenders if they
persisted in their obstinacy. He ordered the palace of AxayacatL put to the torch and,
when this building was finally hidden in a wall of flames that sent pillars of black
smoke towering into the sky, he also ordered the destruction of Motecuzoma's animal
menagerie. This collection of animal specimens and oddities from all over the empire
had long been a favorite of the Aztec people; particularly appreciated was the aviary with
its magnificent songbirds and brightly plumed inhabitants. The loss of such beauty
affected even the Spaniards and their allies, but it was especially painful to the Aztecs
who not only lamented the disappearance of this cherished attraction,n but also had to
watch their lifelong enemies, the Tlaxcalans, and their erstwhile allies, the Texcocans,
engaged in the destruction of these most prized monuments. As prince Ixtibcochitl led
his troops in the battle fray, the Aztecs shouted insults and imprecations at him from the
rooftops censuring him for what they perceived as his treacherous and opprobrious
behavior. Unperturbed, the gallant Spanish ally conducted himself with outstanding
bravery during the combats of the day. As he entered the great square, he engaged in
personal combat with a leader of the Aztecs striking him down with his sharp maquahuitl
and taking from the defeated enemy a lance captured from the Spaniards. The day's
labors concluded, Cortés ordered the withdrawal of his forces to their camp. As they
returned along the causeway, the Aztecs attacked again and again, but were turned back
by the cavalry.
Over the following days, Cortés advanced and retreated repeatedly along the causeways
,which each night were broken up by the defenders. Alvarado and Sandoval posted
contingents of Spanish infantrymen at the recovered breaches onthe causeways under
their command. Cortés chose not to do so as, he felt, it would have required him to set
up headquarters within the city in the midst of the enemy forces. Although this meant
retaking and refilling the breaches with each advance, at least he knew his rearguard was
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defended, and he had an avenue of withdrawal available if needed. It seems he
remembered well the experience of La Noche Triste ,and did not want to relive it.
Unfortunately, the decision to not quarter in the city meant living and fighting on the
causeways, which in the middle of the rainy season, offered no shelter, and had quickly
turned into soggy quagmires. To offset this, Cortés asked the Chalcans to build shelters
for his men, which they promptly did creating a small village around the two towers at
Xoloc. He also asked all the allies from the surrounding areas to come in as many
canoes as they could muster to join in the final assault onTenochtitlan. But, in the
meantime, the Spaniards lived and fought in wet misery with little food ,and not much
care for their wounds which they treated by searing them with hot oil Each day the
wounded, with rags tied around their sores, would venture forth to fight again.
At night, two of the brigantines patrolled the waters to intercept, destroy or capture
canoes from the surrounding towns which continued to supply the capital with food. At
best, the brigantines were able to slow down but never totally interrupt the steady stream
of supply canoes. Harassed by these brigantines, the Aztecs, ever good at setting up
ambushes, prepared a trap for the Spanish vessels. They sent out a party of canoes to
decoy the brigantines into a shallower area where they had driven stakes into the bottom
of the lake. When the brigantines appeared, the decoys fled in seeming panic, and the
pursuing vessels impaled themselves on the stakes. Immobilized, they were relatively
easy prey for the Aztec warriors in thirty large dugouts hidden among the reeds, which
immediately swarmed around the surprised Spaniards. One of the
brigantines was captured and the captains of both vessels, Juan de PortilIa and
Pedro Barba, were killed in the engagement.
Over the three months of the siege, what had begun as a series of battles had evolved
into total war with men fighting on all fronts almost day and night. Cuauhtemoctzin, unlike
his earlier counterparts, learned from his encounters with the Spaniards to change the
traditional ways of fighting. He began and substantially increased the use of nighttime
assaults, using darkness, numbers, and mobility against who could not roam at will, and
whose inferior numbers demanded their men rest longer to regenerate the energies
consumed in daily combat. He mounted simultaneous night assaults on all of the
Spanish camps disrupting the rest of men who were already tired, and pushing to ever
higher levels of fatigue and weariness. During one of these night attacks, the Aztecs
almost overwhelmed Alvarado's camp killing eight of the Spaniards and wounding many
others including the commander. Cuauhtemoctzin learned to post sentinels at night and
rotate them to maintain a steady vigil against possible surprise movements by the enemy.
H e rotated his troops using them for different purposes at varying locations. Had
Cuauhetmoctzin been in charge of the Aztec forces from the earliest days of Cortés'
arrival, a different outcome might have been possible. Unfortunately, as the able
commander of the Aztecs learned of more ways to offset the advantages of his enemy,
he also began to run out of resources and time.
The Spaniards were also tiring and persistently suggested to Cortes that he mount a
major assault directed at Tlatelolco, the market place, which would cut off the enemy's
food supplies ,and reduce the surviving defenders to a smaller area of the city. Pressured
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by his men and in particular by Julian de Alderete, the royal treasurer, Cortes agreed to a
major assault. The 30th of June all forces converged on the hapless city of Tenochtltlan.
The main thrusts would be made by Cortés and Alvarado; most of Sandoval's force was
joined with the Alvarado‘s troops on the western causeway. Cortés led a select
contingent of seventy infantrymen and twenty five horsemen. The armies were
supported by the brigantines, over three thousand canoes, and thousands of allied
troops.
There were three main avenues to the Tlatelolco marketplace. Along the wider of these,
a street bordered by canals on either side, Julian de Alderete was to advance with
seventy foot soldiers, fifteen thousand allied warriors and eight horsemen. On one of the
remaining two streets, Andres de Tapia and Jorge de Alvarado led a similar sized body of
men. Cortés took his force on the other parallel street. A contingent of horsemen with a
few cannon guarded the rear at a central point. Instructions to the commanders clearly
insisted on the importance of advancing with great caution and of keeping an open
avenue of retreat. Cortés' party advanced with relative ease from barricade to barricade
carefully filling every breach found in the causeway.
Assisted by allied warriors in canoes and on the rooftops, he made rapid progress
throwing the enemy back into the city. As the troops moved steadily forward, Cortés felt
uncomfortable about the speed of their advance and asked for frequent reports regarding
the progress of each of the forces and the condition of the breaches in the causeways.
Receiving a report from Alderete that he was nearing the marketplace, Cortés decided to
take a look for himself to determine that the breaches had indeed been filled in. Taking a
small party with him, he inspected the last breach Alderete's forces had passed. It had
been crossed on a few beams but not really filled in; the water in tine gap was close to
ten feet deep. He set his men about filling in the gap, but was interrupted by the sound of
battle approaching from the direction in which Alderete had advanced. Alderete's
Spaniards and their allies were being rolled back by a large force of Aztecs; in their
eagerness to be the first to arrive at the marketplace, they had been foolishly lured into a
trap set by Cuauhtemoctzin. The Aztec assault had been so- furious that the Spaniards
had been unable to organize their withdrawal, and were retreating pell mell intermingled
with their allies and the enemy they were fighting. This struggling mass reached the
unfilled crossing and men began t fall into the water climbing and treading on one another
in their panic stricken flight. The surrounding rooftops filled with enemy archers and
slingers who rained missiles upon the fleeing troops. Suddenly, the canals were filled with
canoes laden with warriors doing the same. It was a nightmare.
Cortés resolved to help the fleeing men and, if need be, die fighting on that spot.
Standing on the opposite side of the gap, he leaned forward to help some of the drowning
men clamber ashore. He was soon recognized by the Aztecs and the cry of "Malinche"
was heard from the enemy ranks. Arrows and stones rained down upon him bouncing off
of his helmet and armor as he pulled survivors from the waters. Six powerful young
Aztec warriors ran forward to grab Cortés and drag him into one of the boats. They might
have succeeded had it not been for gallant Cristobal de Olea, a youth named Serma, and
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a Tlaxcalan chief who fought desperately to free their commander from his captors. Olea
swung his sword with the power of despair and cut off the arm of one of the Aztecs;
turning, he plunged his sword into another, and then attacked and killed three more of the
surrounding enemy warriors.
By this time, Quiñones, captain of Cortés' guard, arrived with some reinforcements; he
plucked Cortés out of the arms of his captors and passed him back to other Spaniards
who awaited on the causeway. In the struggle, brave Cristobal de Olea lost his life, and
Cortés suffered a severe leg wound, which temporarily incapacitated him. He was saved,
but not out of danger yet as the situation was still disastrous. One of Cortés' pages rode
toward him on horseback hoping to extract his commander from the perilous torrent of
enemy warriors that swirled around him, but was struck in the throat by a javelin and had
to turn back. A second rescuer managed to get through and Cortés was lifted into the
saddle. He insisted on staying at that location to help the fleeing Spaniards, but the press
of the struggling mass kept forcing them backwards. At last, slipping and sliding on the
muddy cause way, Cortés and several others were able to rejoin the horsemen left at the
rear. With the aid of some cannon they were able to regroup, and then charged the
enemy several times. Cortés detached Andres de Tapia to warn the other commanders
of the situation, and to order their retreat.
In the meantime, Alvarado and Sandoval had advanced to the marketplace. As soon as
they arrived, they were greeted by a powerful blast from Cuauhtemoctzin's mournful horn,
and a huge horde of enemy troops swarmed around them screaming and yelling that they
had killed Malinche and several othe r Spanish leaders. To prove their point, the Aztecs
rolled three Spanish heads into the square; although the Spaniards could not recognize
the bloodied features of their decapitated companions, and did not believe Cortes was
among them, they realized that the other column must have met with disaster, and
decided to mount an orderly retreat. They sent the Tlaxcalans back along the causeway
to clear and maintain an escape route, and to keep them from emcumbering their
movement. Withdrawing in good order, but pressed by the screaming masses, the
Spaniards slowly fought their way back to their camp on the causeway. The Aztecs
would still have overrun them had it not been for the enfiladed crossfire set up by the
engineer Pedro Moreno Medrano with his well placed battery of guns, and the volleys
from the brigantines along each side of the causeway. Andres de Tapia had run into
enemy action along the way and had been unable to deliver the news of Cortes'
condition. Bleeding from several wounds he finally made it into the camp where he
informed the leaders of the situation as he had left it earlier that day.
Sandoval could not rest until he knew more about the condition of their commander;
despite the fact that he was suffering from three wounds received during that day's
action, he decided to ride to Cortés' camp. Mounting a sturdy steed named Motilla,
renowned for its speed and reliability, he rode out of camp. A long the way he ran into
several Aztec war parties ,which attempted to stop him, but he made it through the
showers of arrows, javelins, and stones. The situation at Cortés' camp, other than the fact
that the commander himself had survived the day's disaster, was not encouraging. The
Spaniards had lost some of the brigantines, several cannon, muskets and crossbows,
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forty killed, many wounded, and close to sixty captured. Cortes had no word from
Alvarado, and was concerned about that worthy commander's survival.
Hampered by his wound, Cortes was unable to ascertain for himself the condition
of all his forces, and asked Sandoval to do this for him.
Accompanied by Francisco de Lugo, Sandoval arrived at Alvarado's camp where the
Spaniards were still fighting off Aztec attacks. Joining in the fray, both cavaliers were
able to help rescue an impaled brigantine and its crew. Sandoval received yet another
wound in this fighting. Pulling back into the safety of the camp, the commanders began
to exchange information about the action of the day and its toll. As they were talking, the
loud, deep beat of Huitzilopochtlite huge drum accompanied by the sounds of many
horns was heard emanating from the heart of the city. Alvarado‘s camp on the causeway
was not more than a mile from the main square, and the astonished Spaniards began to
see long lines of prisoners being driven up the sides of the great Teocalli . Even from that
distance it was evident by the color of their skin that some of the prisoners were
Spaniards. The observers in Alvarado's camp watched in helpless rage as their
companions were stretched out on the sacrificial stone, their chests torn open, hearts
ripped out, and their still flailing bodies were tossed down the side of the pyramid to be
butchered for that nights cannibal feast.
As Alvarado and his men were watching the unhappy spectacle of their companions'
sacrificial death, they were again attacked in force by the Aztecs. Screaming epithets
and insults at the Spaniards and Tlaxca]ans, the attacking Aztecs threw roasted arms
and legs of the sacrificial victims at them taunting them with the threat they would soon
meet the same fate. With the aid of cannon fire the enemy was driven off one more time.
During the days that followed, both sides licked their wounds and, with the exception of
occasional small attacks by Aztec forces, not much fighting took place. The defeat took
its toll in terms of allied support. The native troops were not accustomed to prolonged
engagements, and were tiring of what seemed like an endless process. They could not
see how the Aztecs would be defeated; on the contrary, it must now have seemed to
them that the Spaniards not only were not invincible but could actually lose this war.
Cuauhtemoctzin did everything in his power to impress upon the neighboring peoples the
still great power of his empire. He sent the heads and flayed skins of Spaniards and their
horses to friends and foes alike along with the prediction that Huitzilopochtli would deliver
the Spaniards and their allies into the hands of the Aztec people within eight days. The
campaign had its effect and allied support for the Spaniards slowly began to erode.
Desertions of native troops increased daily although some of the Tlaxcalans and
Texcocans and their stalwart leaders remained true to the end. The situation of the
Spaniards turned dismal as their allies began to abandon them, sources of food
diminished, and continual harassment by their enemies called for unrelenting vigil
regardless of wounds and fatigue.
Cuauhtemoctzin kept his psychological warfare by treating the Spaniards each night to
the horrifying spectacle of more victims being sacrificed to the angry god. Among the last
to be sacrificed to Huitzilopochtli was Cristobal de Guzman, Cortés' own chamberlain
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who had been captured while trying to rescue his commander at Alderete‘s unfilled gap;
poor Guzman was held prisoner for eighteen days before his turn came to march up tine
sides of the terrible pyra mid. Cuauhtemoctzin's prophecy of Spanish defeat and
destruction within eight days was believed by his people, and they celebrated as if it were
a fact. In the meantime, the Spaniards maintained a cautious guard They used the
periods of Aztec inactivity to continue to fill in the gaps. This work was made harder by
the fact that they no longer had native allies to assist them with their labor.
While the Aztecs celebrated, the Spaniards continued to tighten the noose around the
city. They still held the causeways, ,and their brigantines patrolled the lakes each day
reducing the amount of food entering Tenochtitlan. Ixtilxochitl, the prince of Texcoco,
pointed out to Cortés that each day there was less food for the many thousands in the
city, and that they were already reduced to drinking water with a high salt content. When
the ninth day dawned and the Spaniards had still not been destroyed, the folly of
Cuauhtemoctzin‘s prophecy became apparent to the neighboring and allied peoples. The
Texcocan and Tlaxcalan leaders sent word to their troops to return; feeling foolish
because they had fallen for their traditional enemy‘s ruse, they returned in great numbers.
To reinforce the image of Spanish power, Cortés took advantage of this time to accede to
requests from outlying people who were being threatened by the Aztec Is allies. He
detached Tapia and Sandoval with over a hundred men each to rescue the beleaguered
peoples, and instructed both commanders to return within ten days. Each fought pitched
battles at separate locations with the Aztec allies, and, having defeated them, secured
the area by laying waste to their territories. As a result of this demonstration of force,
more peoples were willing to support the Spaniards' efforts against Tenochtitlan. As luck
would have it, just as the Spaniards were running low on gunpowder and crossbows, a
ship arrived at Villa Rica with a full load of these necessities. It was part of a fleet put
together by Ponce de Leon; headed for Florida, the fleet had encountered bad weather
and this vessel had been blown clear across the Gulf of Mexico. As might be expected,
the cargo was impounded by the local commander, and sent to Cortés.
Corteé' resolve to take the capital had not weakened with the recent reverses; if anything,
he was more determined than ever. It is peculiar to observe how the expedition which
began as a tentative exploration and settlement probe, ha become a master plan to
conquer this whole land for the Spanish crown and faith. By now, Cortés knew that the
treasures of Axayacatl and Motecuzoma were gone, lost during the tragic Noche Triste,
and probably irretrievable lying in the silt on the bottom of the lake. That there was still
gold and plunder to be gained in that land was possible, but it was unlikely any treasure
would be found in the ruins of Tenochtitlan after the siege ended. The city itself was a
treasure, a priceless thing of beauty, and Cortés would have it, but in the process it would
be destroyed. He began to organize the next assault on the city by using the native
levies to fill in all the causeway gaps with stone and masonry.
To insure tihe availability of supplies of these materials, he ordered all edifications,
regardless of size or importance, along the paths into to the city to be leveled. Setting an
example for all, Cortes assisted in the filling of the breaches by carrying some of the
beams and stones himself. As the labor progressed from all three camps into the city,
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suburbs were razed to provide maneuvering room for the cavalry. The Aztecs realized
what he was doing, and attempted to stop progress on the project by frequent raids and
harassment, but the Spaniards merely positioned themselves in a way that enabled them
to fire at will on the enemy without exposure or risk to their own welfare. The inevitable
effect of the siege began to make itself felt among the city's population, and soon famine
was a major concern. The beleaguered inhabitants of Tenochtitlan ate what they could;
domestic arimals and pets, lizards, rats, prisoners of war, and even the slime that grew
on the surface of the lake‘s brackish waters. With each passing day there was less to eat.
It was clear to both besieged and besiegers that the situation could not go on for long,
and that much unnecessary suffering might be avoided if the city surrendered.
Cortés decided to send an embassy to Cuauhtemoctzin offering an honorable peace
and pardon if the Aztecs would cease hostilities, and once again place themselves under
the protection of the Spanish crown. He chose for this purpose three Aztec nobles
captured in recent combat. Cuauhtemoctzin listened to the proposal advanced by the
three envoys with growing anger,, but maintained his composure. He called a council
and met with his chief advisors, and priests. The latter, ho had nothing to gain and
everything to lose from surrender, spoke eloquently of their traditional gods and the
unreliability of the white men‘s promises. They reminded all present of the humiliations
and indignities suffered at the hands of these strangers prophesying that all they could
expect would be more of the same or worse. Better to die in combat than to submit a
once proud race and empire to degrading slavery under the vile foreigners. Despite the
obvious self interest of the priests' position, Cuauhtemoctzin was roused by their words.
He swore himself and all Aztec warriors to unrelenting warfare against the enemy, to
protect their people and to die fighting. Two days went by without an answer from
Cuauhtemoctzin, then it came in the form of a major attack on the Spanish positions. The
torrent of howling Aztec warriors swept along the causeways, but this time the cannon
and brigantines had a clear sweep. Volley after volley mowed down the valiant
warriors until finally they were forced to retreat.
Cortés now began a war of attrition, slowly advancing his forces along the now secure
causeways ever deeper into the city. The destruction of buildings continued at a gradual
pace; little by little, the beautiful Tenochtitlan was disappearing. At the end of each day‘s
labors, the Spaniards would send the native workers back to their camp while they stood
guard to protect their rear. Invairaibly, the Atecs would choose this moment to charge,
and were repelled by the Spanish cavalry and the king pikes of Chinantla. On one
occasion, as tine work progressed deeper into the city‘s streets, Cortés took a page from
the Aztec's book of strategies, and set up an ambush which took so great a toll that the
defenders became more cautious in their attacks.
As might be expected during a long period of daily encounters, there were frequent
displays of great courage on both sides. Most commonly, Aztec and native warriors
would challenge each other to single handed combat on rooftops where they would be
watched and encouraged by their comrades. An unusual challenge ocurred one day
when a powerfully built Aztec warrior appeared on a rooftop brandishing a sword and
shield captured from the Spaniards. He called to the white men to face him and suffer
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defeat with their own weapons. One of Cortés' pages, a young man by the name of
Nuñez, requested permission to accept the challenge. Cortés consented and Nuñez
climbed on to the rooftop where he and his opponent began fo hack away at one another.
The Aztec was strong and brave and, despite his inexperience in the use of the European
weapon, gave good account of himself. In the end, however, the young Spaniard's skill
prevailed; after several minutes of hard fighting, he parried his opponent‘s blow and
thrusting upwards, plunged his sword deep into the Aztec‘s chest. Quickly recovering the
captured weapons, he descended from the rooftop, and, breathless but elated, presented
them to his commander.
As the weeks passed and June moved into July, the slow steady progress of the
demolition teams gradually pushed tine defenders farther back into tine city. Cortés'
forces advanced until they linked up with Alvarado‘s division coming east along tine
causeway from Tlacopan. Each day as tine Spaniards fought their way deeper into tine
city, they discovered greater evidence of famine among the inhabitants; the ground had
been dug up by people searching for roots, trees were stripped of their foliage and bark,
and bodies lay unburied in the streets or floating in the canals. Alvarado‘s men pressed
the enemy with great force, and finally reached Tlatelolco where he assigned a captain
by the name of Gutierre de Badajoz to climb the one hundred and fourteen steps of
Huitzilopochtli‘s pyramid, and clear the summit of Aztec monuments, idols, and
priests. Fighting their way up the Teocalli, the Spaniards encountered such stiff
resistance from the Aztecs led by their priests that they were forced back down the steps.
Unfortunately, they were also being pressed from below by another group of Aztecs.
Caught between the two forces, the Spaniards charged down tihe steps clearing their
way by sword, and when they reached level ground received reinforcements from
Alvarado, which enabled them to temporarily clear tihe area. They then returned up the
pyramid and, upon taking the summit put every defender to the sword. In the temples at
the top, the Spaniards found the severed heads of several of their companions who had
been sacrificed on this site. Despite the shaggy and matted hair and beards, they were
able to recognize most of them. The gruesome sight drew tears to the eyes of these
hardened veterans; after carefully removing the remains of tine their lost comrades, they
destroyed the idols and set fire to tine temples.
From their position on the main avenue leading from the southern causeway into the city,
Cortés and his men could see tine fire on top of the pyramid and surmised by its size that
Alvarado had penetrated Tlatelolco. Try as they might to link up with Alvarado's party,
they could not get past one last canal. With stubborn persistence and a high rate of
casualties among the native laborers as they filled tine gap under a steady barrage of
arrows and stones, the breach was finally filled and Cortés, his cavalry and infantry
rushed across. Soon they were in Tlatelolco embracing their comrades from Alvarado‘s
division. Cortés climbed the Teocalli and looked upon the city. Seven eighths of it had
been conquered; in tine remaining eighth, thousands of Aztecs competed for space, food,
and water, and yet, they would not make peace. The Spaniards then set fire to the
remaining temples and monuments in the marketplace, and the flames conveyed further
omens of ill fortune to the unhappy Aztecs who began to feel that their gods had really
abandoned them.
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In the days that followed, several battles were waged with the ever weakening defenders;
the outcome was always the same, and each day there were fewer defenders. Cortes
tried several times to send messages through to Cuauhtemoctzin, but was unable to
generate a response. The Aztec leader finally answered Cortes' insistent requests for a
truce by sending four nobles with a message saying that within three days he would meet
with the Spaniard; during the waiting period, he would counsel with Huitzilopochtli and
fcllow the god‘s sage advice. Cuauhtemoctzin never intended to honor the truce, for he
distrusted the Spaniards, and was merely buying time, which he and his men used to
strengthen their defenses and undermine the causeways. Expecting peace, the
Spaniards had become somewhat lax in their vigilance and outposts, on the third day,
while they were waiting around for Cuauhtemoctzin to arrive, they were confronted by
massed battalions of Aztecs who attacked with such fury that Cortés was forced to retreat
temporarily, but soon returned in force and rolled back the Aztec assault.
One of the costs of the siege was the steady erosion of gunpowder supplies. The
constant battling had substantially reduced the Spaniards' stocks of that irreplaceable
material. One of Cortés' men, by the name of Sotelo, who had served in Italy under the
Great Captain Gonzalo de Cordoba, suggested the work of reducing the buildings and
barricades to rubble be assigned to a giant catapult, which he offered to build. Eager to
save gunpowder, Cortés accepted and placed all his resources at the volunteer‘s
command. Work began on the huge war machine, which required constant protection
from Aztec incursions. Day by day the catapult grew until finally it was ready for its
baptism of fire. With great rejoicing on the Spanish side, and much trepidation on the
part of the Aztecs who could observe all the preparations, a huge stone was lifted onto
the catapult. The gigantic war machine was then wound slowly and carefully to ensure
the fullest tension on ropes and beams. When it seemed that neither ropes nor beams
nor men could stand much more tension, the monstrous projectile was launched. It
ascended impressively into the air as friend and foe stretched their necks to watch its
progress until it reached its apogee, slowly seeming to halt and then beginning its rapid
descent until it landed with a thunderous impact - on the catapult itself blasting it to
smithereens. After the initial shock of the disastrous failure wore off, the guffaws of the
Spanish rank and file turned into raucous belly laughter which lasted for days; every time
one of the men remembered the scene of the ponderous projectile returning to and
obliterating its source. After all the hardship and misery they had endured, this was the
most cathartic experience of tine entire siege, and probably did more for morale than
anything else. The catapult concept was, of course, abandoned.
While the Spaniards were busy building and testing their war machine, the situation of the
Aztecs grew more desperate. People used all of their energies trying to find something,
anything, edible; worms, weeds, one another. In their advanced state of weakness,
disease took its toll and soon death was everywhere. The streets and houses were filled
with the dead and dying and the stench of the putrefying unburied bodies became
intolerable. Tired of attempting to obtain Cuauhtemoctzin‘s surrender and of watching the
city and its inhabitants slowly disappear before his eyes, Cortés ordered another assault
on the last eighth of the city. The Spaniards advanced leaving their allies behind, as they
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did not want them running amok among tine now weakenedenemy population. They
were met with the usual volleys of arrows, javelins and stones, but launched with far less
energy than normal. Gone were the magnificent costumes and armor of the traditional
Aztec warriors; instead they encountered hollow cheeked specters struggling to present a
brave front to their enemies. Among the men were haggard women and children who
lent their support in casting stones down from the roofs. The Spaniards advanced with
musket and crossbow fire supported by crossfire from the cannon aboard the brigantines.
The carnage was horrible even to the Spaniards who had to climb over the bodies of the
dead and dying to kill the still living and fighting.
Cortés had to detach men to hold back the allies from merciless slaughter of the mostly
defenseless population. Men slipped and fell in the rivers of blood that flooded the
streets and squares, and raised themselves again to complete their gory task. By
nightfall, worn from incessant killing and the nightmare of the screaming and yelling of
men, women and children mixed with the constant rumble of cannon and musket fire, and
the terrible smells of gunpowder and rotting corpses, the Spaniards retreated from the
field leaving behind an estimated forty thousand dead Aztecs.
The following morning Cortes instructed Sandoval to take the launches and concentrate
on that part of tine city where Cuauhtemoctzin and his chiefs were holding out in houses
built on the water. He further ordered Sandoval to no kill any Aztecs unless they attacked,
and spare as much of the suffering population as possible. Alvarado was ordered to
advance through Tlatelolco on his own front ; Cortes marched along the main causeway
at the head of his own troops. Again, showers of arrows and stones greeted them, but so
weak as to hardly make a dent. The starving defenders huddled on the rooftops and
milled about in confusion, no longer able to mount an effective defense in their befuddled
condition. The slaughter was worse than the day before, and thousands died from
gunfire, and more from falls from roofs, and by drowning in the lake.
The Spaniards, following Cortés' orders, spared the women and children where possible;
the allies, avenging centuries of humiliation and cruelty suffered at the hands of the
Aztecs, spared no one. Aboard the brigantines, Sandoval ordered the men to keep a
sharp eye for royal fugitives as growing numbers of survivors attempted to escape from
the massacre in canoes. A captain by the name of Garci Holguin detected three large
canoes making their way toward the shore and gave pursuit. Supported by a strong
breeze, the brigantine‘s sail filled, and the vessel soon caught up with the fleeing Aztecs.
As the brigantine came alongside, a young man stood up, weapons in hand, ready to
defend himself and the other passengers in the canoe.
The Spanish captain, Garci Holguin, told his men to hold their fire. The young Aztec
identified himself as Cuauhtemoctzin, and asked the Spaniards to spare his wife and
children. He then requested te be taken before Malinche (Cortés). Garci Holguin knew his
orders and treated Cuautemoctzin, all the members of his party and their belongings with
the utmost respect. After seating the Aztec leader on the poop deck of the brigantine
and providing him with refreshments, he turned his vessel about and headed for shore.
Sandoval discovered that Garci Holguin had captured Cuauhtemoctzin, and overtaking
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his brigantine demanded the prisoner be remanded to his care. Holguin refused saying
that the Aztec was his prisoner and he was not about to give him up.
Cortés got wind of the disagreement and sent Luis Marin and Francisco de Verdugo with
instructions for both captains to return to base as they were without further quibbling over
ownership. Cortés received the Aztec leader with great respect and honor.
Cuauhtemoctzin had his family and thirty chieftains with him; facing Cortés he stated that
he had done his duty defending his city, and that the Spaniard could remove his dagger
from his belt and kill him at once with it. With these words, the noble Aztec overcome with
the grief and pain of the situation, broke down and wept as did many of his followers.
Cortés had nothing but words of admiration for the Aztec leader and his valiant
defense of the capital. That he would have preferred for the capital to have remained
intact was clearly communicated to Cuauhtemoctzin, but Cortes admitted he understood
the Aztec‘s reasons. He then addressed Cuauhtemoctzin's wife, Motecuzomafe
daughter, and paid homage to her noble ancestry. After the Aztec leader and his party
had rested and refreshed themselves, Cortes ordered them escorted to Coyoacan where
they might spend the night free from the polluted air of the capital. Ordering Alvarado,
Olid and Sandoval to their respective camps, he accompanied the Aztec nobles to
Coyoacan. That night a violent rainstorm raked the capital with its fury as lightning rent
the skies above the broken ruins of the capital and loud barrages of thunder rolled across
the valley announcing the death of Tenochtitlan. To the tears of the battered survivors
were added those of the ancient god Tlaloc, the rain god, which helped wash away some
of the death and pestilence visited upon this last great city of the Aztec empire.
The siege was over. The most beautiful city in the New World, destroyed and its
magnificent people reduced to famine stricken shadows whose culture and gods had met
their end. A great nation was about to enter into generations of servitude and
humiliation. And, for what? For gold and treasure? Perhaps initially, but not ultimately.
The treasures of Axayacatl and Motecuzoma had been irretrievably lost during La Noche
Triste. Of course, in a land of such size more treasures probably existed, but not in such
profusion as had been seen early on; those treasures were the product of centuries and
generations of accumulation of wealth and spoils of conquest. What then motivated
Cortés and his followers to face such incredible dangers, endure such terrible suffering
and hardship, and yet fight so bravely against unbelievable odds, and staying until the
final collapse of their mighty and powerful enemy?
In a sense, they were trapped by greed and success. The deeper they entered into
Mexico and the more they became involved in the internecine struggles between the
Aztec empire and its subject and opposing nations, the harder it became for them to
leave. To retreat might have been far more dangerous than to advance. There would
have been no safe and easy way to extricate themselves from their entanglements. And
then there was greed; even if they had wanted to leave, they had seen too much wealth
and treasure to part from it without being pursued for the rest of their lives by the dream
of what might have been theirs had they but ventured and dared a little more. If they had
been able to return to Villa Rica, what then?
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They had no ships and, if ships arrived or could be built, what would they have been
returning to in Cuba? Many of them had wives and plantations there, but were also in
debt up to their ears and probably would face prosecution by the governor upon their
return for having supported Cortés. As for Cortés, he probably realized early on that the
treasures lost during La Noche Triste were gone forever, resting in the mud at the bottom
of the lake near the causeways where so many Spaniards had lost their lives. Most
reasonable men would have avoided the terrible ordeals Cortés and his men faced
nearly every day of the epic of conquest.
But, Cortés and his men were not ordinary men; they were adventurers and mercenaries
whose fortunes and welfare lay not in the tranquil routines of daily civilized life, but rattier
in the turmoil and excitement of danger and the potential reward of untold riches in
exchange for daring and boldness. For brief moments, they led lives on a level never
experienced by more timid humans; they became teules and breathed the rarified air of
the heroic and the immortal. It would be unfair to judge Cortés and his followers on the
basis of whether they were good or bad men. They were men of their times. By the
standard of any time, they were extraordinary men. Cortés certainly must be considered
one of the greatest leaders of all times to have accomplished so much with so little
against such huge odds. The Aztecs, despite the hatred they generated among their
subject and neighboring nations, and aside from their abominable religious practices,
were a great people whose indomitable courage lives on in the hearts of today's Mexican
people who face trials of a different nature.
There is another group of participants on both sides of the epic of conquest whose
contributions and bravery have yet to be properly recognized; the Aztec and Spanish
women who lived through the period and who helped their men through much of the
terrible stages of the conflict. The Aztec women fought alongside their men, fed and
cured them, and raised their children throughout the whole conflict, and lived to carry the
burdens of the later colonization. They were graceful and charming and, as with most
women around the world, frequently smarter than their men but loyal nevertheless. We
do not know the names of the many Aztec women who distinguished themselves in so
many ways during and after the conquest, but their proud heritage lives on in the noble
people who today bear the title of Mexicans.
As for the Spanish women who accompanied their men on the expedition, they were not
many but we do know the names of some. During the disastrous retreat of La Noche
Triste, one Spanish woman distinguished herself for her unparalleled bravery. Maria de
Estrada, travelling in the middle of the army with the baggage and the treasure, found
herself surrounded by screaming Aztecs who distinguished not at all between men and
women in the wild combat of that night. Rather than submit passively to whatever fate
might befall her, she bravely picked up the shield and sword of a fallen soldier and
hacked about her with such energy and courage that gave heart to the Spanish soldiers
around her. Maria de Estrada later married Pedro de Farfan and was awarded a land
grant for her exemplary courage.
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When the Spaniards suffered their other disastrous defeat after Alderete‘s hasty advance
left an unplugged gap to the rear of his position, and the attacking Aztecs drove them all
the way back to their camp on the causeway, at least two of the Spanish women were
seen to don armor and weapons to attack the advancing enemy. They rallied their men
about them and helped drive the Aztecs back. Among the women mentioned by the
chroniclers for their bravery, in addition to Maria de Estrada, were Beatriz de. Palacios,
Juana Martin, Beatriz Bermudez, and Isabel Rodriguez. Had they done nothing more
than just accompany their men on this incredible journey, it would still be worthy of their
heroic reputations; having added to their credits by acts of gallant bravery in moments of
grave danger, they, too, must be judged as extraordinary.
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Chapter Five
The Seven Gold Cities of Cibola
The Spanish viceroy to Mexico, Antonio de Mendoza, used his influence with the Order of
St. Francis to have Fray Marcos de Niza appointed to the position of Father Provincial.
As a result, the pulpits of that order were soon echoing the "marvels" discovered by Fray
Marcos on his expedition to Cibola. Tales of 11 story buildings with facades of gold inlaid
with hundreds of turquoises soon spread throughout New Spain.
The speculation about Cibola and its potential whipped such a frenzy of enthusiasm that
in a few days, Coronado had over 300 Spanish hidalgos and some 800 natives as
volunteers for the new expedition. Aware of De Soto‘s expedition, and unwilling to let
that worthy hidalgo arrive in Cibola first, Mendoza decided to send a scouting party
ahead of Coronado ‗s expedition. The scouting party was under the command of
Captain Melchior Diaz; one of its main objectives that of verifying Fray Marcos' story.
Obviously, the viceroy, as much as he liked and admired the friar, wanted stronger proof
of Cibola and its wonders before he committed the large sums of monies that an
expedition would require. As it turned out, Mendoza invested some 60,000 ducats and
Coronado 50,000 (most of which came from mortgaging the lands of his wife doña
Beatriz de Estrada).
Mendoza was a good and kindly man, and avoided causing any form of cruelty and
hardship for the natives under his responsibility. In keeping with this spirit, he ordered
the army to assemble at Compostela in the northern Mexico province called New Galicia
rather than have it march through friendly native territories, and tax the resources of
those along the way. Concurrently, he sent two ships under don Hernando de Alarcón
from the port of La Natividad in southern Mexico to the northern port of Xalisco taking the
baggage and equipment that the soldiers were unable ts carry. The ships were then
supposed to follow the expedition sailing along the western coast, and provide support as
needed. Mendoza also instructed Alarcón to survey the Pacific shoreline, and attempt to
locate Cibola from the sea by sailing up the unexplored northern river (the Colorado) to
rendezvous with Coronado.
The Spanish equivalent of Murphy‘s Law was enacted with flawless precision: the ships
reached the mouth of the Colorado, and even advanced quite distance up the river, but
never kept their rendezvous with Coronado. Their timing was wrong. Having made all the
necessary preparations and given instructions to all parties, Mendoza left Mexico city and
proceeded north towards Compostela. His party advanced at a leisurely pace stopping
at cities and settlements along the way to visit and celebrate with the locals. The viceroy
arrived at Compostela on February 21, 1540, where he met with the leaders of the
expedition. The following morning, he assigned the captains to their companies and, after
the assembled army had heard mass, the viceroy made a short but eloquent speech to
the troops. He reminded them of their duty to country and church, and that the expedition
also had as its purpose to bring Christianity to the natives. Natives were to be made
subjects of the crown but not enslaved. Food was not be taken without due compensation
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being given in return, and the natives were not to be forced to labor. The men then
presented their oaths of obedience to their commander. To further emphasize the
religious purpose of the expedition, Fray Marcos was sent ahead on foot accompanied by
other friars and a mounted escort of soldiers to bring the faith to natives along the way.
On February 23, 1540, the army of 336 Spaniards, 1,500 native volunteers, and 559
horses, set forth with banners flying and visions of gold ingots in the minds and hearts of
the hidalgos and their men. Mendoza accompanied the expedition for two days; then,
after saying his goodbyes to the enthusiastic explorers,
returned to Mexico City.
Bordering the Pacific shoreline, the army covered the 300 miles to Culiacan at a sluggish
pace. It finally arrived there on March 30th; then spent three weeks resting up for the
endeavors ahead. Along the way, the army received some discouraging news : after
wintering at Chichilticalli on the .Gila river at the edge of the desert the Spaniards
referred to as the "despoblado" (uninhabited), Melchior Diaz had decided to return to
Mexico. Before doing so, however, he carefully questioned natives from a wide variety
of locations for news and information about Cibola. On his way back to Mexico City,
Diaz ran into Coronado‘s expedition. He shared his knowledge with Coronado; it didn‘t
tally with Fray Marcos' enthusiastic descriptions. Yes, there were many turquoises in the
country ahead, but little gold. The people were poor; they spun cloth of cotton and wore
leather garments. In a sarcastic remark probably aimed at Fray Marcos de Niza, he said
tine natives were of little use for other than converting them to Christianity. A lieutenant
by the name of Zaldivar was sent on with three men to carry the news of Diaz' findings to
the viceroy.
Diaz and the rest of his men joined Coronations expedition. As news of these
developments leaked out to the army it had a depressing effect. This was soon
compounded by the violent death of Lope de Samaniego, the army quartermaster who
was killed while leading a foraging party into territory of presumably "pacified" natives.
Unfortunately, someone had forgotten to communicate this fact to the natives who
responded to the Spaniards' high handed manner with arrows, one of which entered
Samaniego‘s eye penetrating his brain. Coronado gave Samaniego a funeral with full
military honors and "pacified" as many natives as he could find in the vicinity by hanging
them from nearby trees.
Fray Marcos was undeterred by Melchior Diaz' report, and continued to promise the
Spaniards they would soon be able to sink their arms up to their elbows in gold.
Concerned by Diaz' report and eager to produce results, Coronado decided to take a
small advance party and head straight for Cibola. He did not want to travel with the main
force because it was too slow; it marched at the pace of the pack horses and mules, and
cows whose hooves quickly grew sore from the rigors of the journey. With 30 horsemen,
30 infantry, all the friars (for some reason, they didn‘t trust the soldiers to do the work of
the Lord) and some natives, Coronado pressed ahead. The main army was left under
the command of Tristan de Arellano, a flashy hidalgo who nevertheless distinguished
himself by his effective management of the forces under him. It must have been an
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interesting challenge as all the friars left with the advance party leaving no one to warn all
those lusty young Spaniards of the perils of sin.
As soon as the viceroy received Diaz' report about the incongruence between his findings
and Fray Marcos' glowing descriptions, he dispatched Lieutenant Zaldivar with
instructions for Coronado to hold off on further exploration (and expense). The governor
wanted another scouting party sent out to determine whether the expedition should
continue or be cancelled. Zaldivar arrived too late; Coronado‘s advance party had left.
Coronado‘s party advanced up the Sonora Valley into southern Arizona. It was hard
going and morale was not helped much by Coronado‘s insistence that the men adhere to
the letter and the spirit of the viceroy‘s instructions. They camped away from native
villages, bartered for their food, and the hot-blooded young Spaniards were kept from one
of their favorite pastimes, native women.
As what started out as an exciting adventure turned into bone-wearying drudgery, the
men began to grumble. Their main target was Fray Marcos who they felt had neglected
to describe this part of the "wonders" of the journey to Cibola. Following the San Pedro
River northwards, Coronado then cut northeast reaching the village where Diaz had
wintered, Chichilticalli (literally ―Red House,‖ from the native language ―Chichilte‖, Red,
and ―Calli‖ House). The party had arrived at the edge of the Despoblado, the barren
desert and mountain area east of the Mogollon Plateau. Coronado decided to give his
men a few days rest at Chichiltecalli, but sent one of his best men, Garcia Lopez de
Cardenas, ahead to scout the terrain. Coronado followed a few days later; along the way
he discovered that the land between Chichiltecalli and the distant White Mountains was a
terribly inhospitable -- little or no grass could be found for the horses. When they
reached the White Mountains, there the terrain was very rough and offered little the men
could eat. One of the Spaniards, two black slaves, and several of the natives died from
eating the poisonous herbs they found as they descended the northern slopes. By now,
they had been traveling for five months.
Meanwhile, Cardenas had run into some Cibolans, four natives who made signs of
peace, and promised to send the Spaniards food the following day. Cardenas did what
Spaniards usually did; he took two of the natives as hostages, and sent the other two
back to their city with word that the Spaniards would not harm them. At this point,
Coronado caught up with Cardenas. After talking with the hostages through an
interpreter, he sent them away with gifts. Cardenas was sent ahead once again, this time
to occupy a pass, which could be used for an ambush by hostile natives. Obviously, the
Spaniards realized their actions might have generated some hostility among the natives.
Cardenas found a few natives at the pass; he offered presents, and told them that he
came in peace. The natives accepted the presents, but not the story. That night the
natives attacked with arrows and war whoops. The greenhorns among the Spaniards
panicked, and hurriedly tried to saddle their horses; some of them got the saddles on
backwards and later were the subject of much ridicule. The veterans took the situation in
hand, and charged the attacking natives. After all the noise and excitement subsided, it
seems there were no casualties on either side.
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The following morning, Coronado caught up with Cardenas' party. They were within a few
miles of Hawikuh-Cibola. The Zuni scouts posted in the mountains were ever watchful
and, as the Spaniards advanced along the Zuni River canyon, they sent up smoke
signals to alert the pueblo. Then, the first of the Spaniards caught sight of Cibola; Fray
Marcos' "shining silver city" was nothing more than a random collection of huts and
buildings all jumbled together into a squalid native pueblo. Where were the golden
facades, turquoise incrustations, and women with jeweled belts? For this they had
journeyed so far over such difficult terrain facing danger and starvation? For this
Coronado had risked his reputation, his fortune and his wife‘s estate? All the glory,
honor and wealth were this?
Fray Marcos, who had been notoriously quiet during the last part of the voyage, received
his full share of curses and insults. After the initial shock wave of disappointment had
run its course, there remained the problem of what to do now? Fortune or no, Coronado
had his orders to make the natives aware of their new responsibilities as subjects of the
king, and to bring Christianity to them. The Zuni lined up on their terraces to watch the
Spaniards. A party of some 200 warriors ranged themselves in front of the pueblo; they
drew a ceremonial line which they indicated to the strangers should not be passed. A
peace party composed of Cardenas, Bermejo the notary, friars Luis and Daniel (Fray
Marcos may have opted for discretion in the face of a potentially hostile force), and a
small escort, approached the Zuni. The notary addressed the natives through an
instructor who informed them that they were now subjects of a monarch from beyond the
sea; the Spaniards meant them no harm and were really here to defend them.
This must have come as a surprise to the Zuni who probably did not know what a sea
was, acknowledged no ruler, and felt no need to be protected. Accordingly, when
Cardenas and his party crossed the line, the Zuni let loose a volley of arrows. Not
renowned for their marksmanship, the Zuni archers caused no damage other than a
scratch on Bermejo‘s horse and a hole in Fray Luis' frock. Coronado moved his men
forward, but continued to make peace signs. The Zuni misinterpreted his intentions, and
rushed forward shooting their arrows. That did it; Coronado gave the order to attack.
The Spaniards surged forward at the cry of "Santiago!" putting the Indians to flight and
killing nearly twenty of them. Most of the Zuni climbed their ladders back into the pueblo.
The Spaniards now began to look for a way into the pueblo. Fray Marcos had by now
regained some of his earlier courage, and gave his consent to an attack on the natives;
the attack, of course, was to be carried out by persons other than himself.
Coronado sent some of his men to the rear of the pueblo to cut off any possible retreat,
and then ordered the rest to attack. They rode through a shower of arrows, and circled
the village without finding any way into it. It was now apparent that Fray Marcos had
never seen Cibola, or why would he have described its gates? There were none; the
only way in was up by means of ladders that the natives had withdrawn. They had pulled
up all the ladders, that is, except one that had been forgotten and was soon discovered
by the Spaniards. Coronado leapt to the ladder and attempted to climb it at the head of
his men. Conspicuous in his gilded armor and plumed helmet, he was singled out as a
target by the Zuni who knocked him down twice by dropping large rocks on him. Had it
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not been for his sturdy helmet, he would have been killed; as it was, he still suffered a
concussion, and was unconscious for a time. He had also suffered several cuts and
bruises, and received an arrow in one foot.
The injuring of Coronado further angered the Spaniards who were already venting their
disappointment with Cibola on the Zuni. Cardenas led a charge over the wall to the first
level terrace. Seeing the Spanish fury and the inevitability of the outcome, the Zuni
surrendered, and asked to be allowed to leave their pueblo. Told they could stay, the
Zuni chose instead to retreat to a stronghold in the mountains where they had sent most
of their women and children before the battle. The Spaniards found something they
appreciated more than gold at that point, an abundance of maize, beans, turkeys and
salt. While the men were resting and eating their fill of the newfound supplies,
Coronado toured the grounds of the village, which he renamed Granada in honor of
viceroy Mendoza‘s birthplace. He then wrote to Mendoza reporting on the sad contrast
between the reality of Cibola and the glowing fantasies woven by the that Baron
Munchausen of the cloth, Fray Marcos.
Coronado was not one to hold a grudge against such a weak enemy as the Zuni had
proven to be. He freed the prisoners and ordered them treated well He attempted to
communicate with their "prince‖ (the Spaniards seemed to think that each land had one),
but discovered the Zuni were governed (as were so many North American tribes) by a
council of elders. To these he recommended they bring their women and children to the
pueblo to be baptized; they agreed but did not comply.
Hope springs eternal and gold fever can be stronger than the strongest hope. Analyzing
his options, Coronado considered the possibility that the stories of gold and precious
stones might still be true, but could have been referring to a different "kingdom" yet to be
discovered somewhere in that general area. Coronado decided to broaden his
explorations in search of hints of such a kingdom. He sent Pedro de Tovar with twenty
men and Fray Juan de Padilla to seek out the land of the Moquis (Hopi) to the west of
Cibola. Fray Juan de Padilla was no lily- livered, psalm-spouting, cleric; more of a
fighting Franciscan, he had been a soldier before taking religious vows, and still lent
the troops a hand when the going got tough. Aided by Zuni guides, Tovar and his men
reached the of the Hopi. Arriving at nightfall, the Spaniards quietly crept up to the Hopi
pueblo and listened to the natives chatting with one another during the evening.
While Coronado waited for Tovar‘s party to return, he sent his report to Mendoza with a
party commanded by Juan Gallego. Accompanying this party was Melchior Diaz who had
instructions to establish a base camp at the Sonora River to serve as a link between
Cibola and New Spain; he was also to search to the west to see if he could locate the
ships under the command of Hernando de Alarcón.
Returning in disgrace with Gallego's party was Fray Marcos whose welfare and life would
have been imperiled if he had remained among the hardened men he had so fraudulently
misled. Not too long after his return to New Spain, Fray Marcos suffered a paralyzing
stroke. He died some time later, forgotten by all except those he had bamboozled into
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risking their fortunes and lies in the pursuit of his chimera chatting with one another
during the evening. At dawn, the Spaniards were discovered and the Hopi sallied from
their pueblo to confront them. They drew the traditional line warning the Spaniards not to
pass. Tovar repeated the words notifying the natives that they would become subjects of
the Spanish king or suffer the consequences. The message had the expected non-effect
and the Spaniards advanced. When they crossed the warning line, one of the natives
struck a horse with his war club. Such "effrontery" could not go unpunished; the
Spaniards charged and mauled the natives who quickly sued for peace. Once the issue
had been settled, emissaries arrived from neighboring pueblos with peace offerings of
skins, corn, cotton cloth, nuts, and a few turquoises.
Having fulfilled his mission, Tovar returned to report to Coronado; he had been gone a
total of three weeks. Among the pieces of information he brought back was a report of a
great river to the west. While Coronado waited for Tovar's party to return, he sent his
report to Mendoza with a party commanded by Juan Gallego. Accompanying this party
was Melchior Diaz who had instructions to establish a base camp at the Sonora River to
serve as a link between Cibola and New Spain; he was also to search to the west to see
if he could locate the ships under the command of Hernandc de Alarcon. Returning in
disgrace with Gallego's party was Fray Marcos whose welfare and life were imperiled if
he were to remain among the hardened men he had so fraudulently misled. (Not too long
after his return to New Spain, Fray Marcos suffered a paralyzing stroke. He died later,
forgotten by all except those he had bamboozled into risking their fortunes and lives in
pursuit of his chimera.)
Heading south, Gallego's party ran into the main expedition under the command of
Tristan de Arellano. Picking up supplies and additional men, the party continued
southward reaching the Sonora River where a camp was established. Diaz decided it
should become a town, and named it San Geronimo, appointing Diego de Alcaraz as its
alcalde. From here the party struck northwest and headed for the Colorado River, finally
reaching it about 90 miles from its mouth. Following the river south in search of Alarcon
and the supply ships, three days later Diaz and Gallego found a message carved on a
tree trunk. (One wonders what the odds were against their finding that message.) It said
Alarcon had sailed this far, and that letters were buried at the foot of the tree. Among the
reasons given by Alarcon for not waiting at that location was the fact that he had found
the local natives, the Yuma, to be large and hostile.
Diaz' sixth sense for survival told him to expect some sort of action on the part of the
Yuma, so he captured one of them for questioning. Under torture, the native confessed
that his companions were waiting for the Spaniards to begin fording the river, and when
half of them were across, they would attack the divided force. Diaz had the prisoner
killed and his body, weighted with heavy stones, tossed into the river to avoid his being
discovered by the tribe. Diaz set a trap, and when the party seemed to be crossing the
river, the natives attacked. The Spaniards sprung their ambush and, between gunfire
and cavalry charges, made quick work of the native warriors. Unable to do anything
about the supplies and in no great hurry to carry back the bad news of the expedtion's
failure, Diaz and Gallego continued their voyage westward spending fall and early winter
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in the plains of Lower California. Here, toward the end of December, disaster struck. A
greyhound belonging to one of the Spaniards began to chase after their sheep. irritated
by the dog's behavior, Diaz chased after it on his horse. To frighten the greyhound away
from the sheep, Diaz tossed his lance after the dog with such bad luck that it stuck in the
ground and, before he could stop his speeding horse, he was impaled upon it. The lance
penetrated Diaz' groin and bladder. His men carried him as gently as possible for the
next twenty days. Diaz bravely supported the terrible pain, but on January18, 1541, died
and was buried in the desert somewhere between the Colorado and Sonora Valleys.
Back at the Spanish camp another legend that would take the lives of both Spaniards and
natives was beginning to take shape. Word reached Coronado of a place called Acucu or
Acus, actually Ako or Acuma as it is called today. While he was pondering the worth of
this new story, a delegation visited the camp. Two chiefs led the party, one, an older man
whom the Spaniards called Cacique and, the other who, because he had a few scraggly
hairs on his upper lip, was called Bigotes or Whiskers. They came from a distant place
called Tshiquite, which the Spaniards approximated with Cicuye, located on the Pecos
River. The visitors brought gifts of skins, headpieces, shields and other crafts. Upon
questioning, they told the Spaniards of settled lands to the east, and of huge herds of
cattle such as the one painted on the body of one of the natives; this is one time a picture
probably was worth a thousand untranslatable words. The tales told by Bigotes and his
companions revived the interest of the Spaniards and hope of fortunes to be won rose
again.
Coronado wasted no time in attempting to develop better information. He sent Hernando
de Alvarado, brother of Tonatiuh, the dashing Pedro de Alvarado, ith a detachment of
some twenty horsemen, four crossbowmen and the indefatigable Fray Juan de Padilla to
explore the area. Setting out on August 19, 1540, Alvarado and his men headed east
crossing the Malpais or Bad Country where black volcanic slag covered the terrain. They
soon came to Acma which impressed them by the way it was built high up on a huge
rock, an impenetrable fortress made all the more so by the fact that the Spaniards could
not scale the heights. Fortunately (for both Spaniards and natives), the Acumans came
forth with presents for the visitors. After provisioning the Spaniards, the Acumans wished
them bon voyage with a hearty sigh of relief at their departure. The party came to a series
of pueblos built along the Rio Grande; the name of the the area was Ti-wesh, which the
Spaniards approximated with Tiguex and today is called Bernalillo. Actually, as
pronounced in the Spanish of the period, Tiguex is a very good phonetic matchfor Tiwesh.
Their reputation having preceded them, the Spaniards were visited in their camp by
representatives from the twelve villages who brought offerings of peace. After visiting
each of the pueblos and accepting their homage, Alvarado turned back towards Tshiquite
or Pecos, where Bigotes and Cacique lived. The Spaniards rested at Tshiquite for
several days. Alvarado expressed to Bigotes his interest in seeing the famous herds of
cattle he had heard so much about. Bigotes demurred saying he had already traveled
too much, and did not want to be absent from his pueblo again. He offered instead, the
services of two former prisoners of war, now candidates for citizenship in the tribe (a
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common practice among the natives of the western United States, it enabled the tribes to
replace men lost in combat). These two personages were called by the Spaniards El
Turco (the Turk because of a headdress he wore, which resembled a turban) ,and
Isopete. El Turco was from Harahay, Pawnee country, and Isopete from the land of the
Kirikurus (Wichita natives in Kansas); the Spaniards translated the latter into Quivira.
Alvarado didn't know it, but he was in the presence of two accomplished liars of the
stature at least of Fray Marcos de Niza. Heading east, guided by this mendacious
twosome, Alvarado and his party came upon herds of buffalo ,which he said were as
numerous as fish in the sea. The Spaniards attempted to hunt the huge beasts, and lost
several horses in the process. By now, El Turco, who must have been both intelligent
and especially perceptive, had spent enough time with the Spaniards to learn about their
ways and values. He decided to make his move, and told Alvarado that he and his men
should head northeast where they would find a land called Quivira ( as the Spaniards
pronounced it) abundant in gold, silver and fabrics. El Turco probably just wanted to get
back to his own country, and figured the best way to do this would be to have the
Spaniards take him there.
To help his cause along, he told Alvarado that Bigctes was well acquainted with the
existence of Quivira, and that he even haid a gold bracelet from that land which he, El
Turco, had originally brought with him before his capture. His story backfired to some
extent because, instead of heading northeast as El Turco wanted, Alvarado headed back
to Tshiquite; he wanted that bracelet. Arriving at Tshiquite, Alvaradc questioned Bigotes
and Cacique about the bracelet. They truthfully denied knowledge of it; Alvarado, of
course, did not believe them and clapped them in irons. Turco and Isopete escaped, but
were recaptured. The people of Pecos revolted against the Spaniards; between their poor
aim and their alien epithets they did little damage. Alvarado marched the four prisoners
to Ti-wesh, and settled in to await the arrival of the main army, which had already
reached Kawikuh.
Coronado had sent Cardenas ahead to Ti-wesh to set up winter quarters for the army.
Upon arriving at Ti-wesh, Cardenas saw that there were twelve pueblos, six on either
side of the river. He chose the southernmost for the honor of billeting the army, and
notified the inhabitants they were to leave. With an understandable amount of grumbling,
they did. The main column, marching under Arellano, had suffered through a snowstorm
and the men, especially the native auxiliaries, were in bad shape. Finding a warm, albeit
somewhat malodorous, pueblo to house the troops delighted Coronado. His excitement
really grew when he heard Alvarado's news about Quivira, the land of gold and jewels.
In Coronado's presence, El Turcc was inspired to greater heights of invention and
eloquence describing fish as large as horses, vast numbers of canoes, and wealthy
inhabitants 'who rode under canopies on these canoe whose bows were decorated with
golden eagles. Such was the reputed wealth of the Quivira that they served their tables
with plates of gold and silver, and took their siestas under trees whose branches were
adorned with little golden bells that lulled the Quivirans to sleep. It seems strange that
the Spaniards would have been taken in by such tales, but who could have imagined
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Tenochtitlan before it was discovered. So why not believe in the possibility of another
great and wealthy city in an unexpected place?
Actually, El Turco may have based some of his descriptions on facts that were mangled
and exaggerated in translation. Catfish in the Mississippi and Missouri did grow to
lengths of six feet at that time; in some parts of South America they still do. There were
many buffalo hide boats or coracles, on the Arkansas River. There is little doubt,
however, that after seeing the Spaniards' lust for gold El Turco definitely added special
embellishments to his tale designed to fan the fires of greed. His ability to keep a straight
face and look innocent made his story all the more convincing.
During the winter, relations with the natives did not improve; in fact, they deteriorated.
Spanish abuse and arrogance exacerbated the patient natives to the point that they
finally rebelled, and killed thirty or more of the Spaniards' horses; some actually were
tortured before they were put to death. Given the Spaniards' need of and love for their
horses, the natives couldn't have chosen a more painful form of retribution against them.
The Spaniards mounted in holy wrath at the desecration of these noble beasts, and
swore to exact vengeance for their loss. Especially offended was Cardenas who lost
seven good mules in the raid.
The natives holed up in the pueblo called Arenal (Sand Hill), and defended themselves
with courage and determination. It took the Spaniards a long time and a high number of
casualties to conquer the first level of terraces. Abandoning the terraces, the natives
took refuge inside the buildings. The Spaniards' shivered outdoors through the snowy
night. The battle was renewed at daybreak with little change in status until Cardenas
came up with a new approach. He ordered his men to break through the adobe walls at
the base of the pueblo; this area was used for storage only. Once inside the first level,
the Spaniards lit several smudge fires, which generated enough smoke to fill the upper
levels. The defenders held out as long as they could, but finally asked to surrender
rather than suffocate. Under orders from Coronado to set an example, Cardenas
reneged on the terms of surrender, which had included a promise of mercy. He had over
a hundred stakes driven into the ground and firewood gathered around each. Seeing his
intent, the prisoners decided not to await this ignominious death passively, and rose up
against their captors. Unarmed, they could not do much, and close to a hundred were
cut down. Some managed to escape with the news of the Spaniards' "pacification". The
rest, approximately thirty, were burnt at the stake.
The "example" worked in the opposite sense of its intention; rather than being
intimidated, the natives turned completely hostile. They took refuge in another pueblo
called Moho. Cardenas took thirty men with him, and rode around the town looking for a
way in. As they circled the town, the chief of the natives made signs to Cardenas to
come up to the terrace; he smiled as he signaled to the Spaniard to climb up and
exchange a warm embrace of friendship. Daring and foolhardy, Cardenas accepted. A
ladder was lowered and, leaving his weapons behind, climbed up. The chief quickly put
his arms around Cardenas pinning the Spaniards' arms to the side while the rest of the
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natives rained blows on him. A blow to the helmet knocked Cardenas unconscious; the
natives picked him up, and were about to carry him into the pueblo, when he awoke and
resisted. He managed to hold out long enough to be rescued by his men, but several of
them were injured, including Cardenas himself who received an arrow wound in one of
his legs in addition to his head injuries. The Spaniards tried to repeat the tactic of
breaking through the lower walls to set fire to the pueblo. It didn't work; this pueblo was
built differently with a base of stone and heavy logs that could neither be dislodged nor
burned. There being no other choice but a frontal assault, the Spaniards leapt to it
valiantly fighting their way up level by level, but paying a heavy price in casualties for
each advance. Stones, boulders, poisoned arrows (dipped in rattlesnake venom) took
their toll; there were at least a hundred Spanish casualties.
The assaults continued for nearly two months. During the siege, one Spaniard, Captain
Francisco de Ovando was dragged into the pueblo and killed. Outside, the weather got
colder and snows were frequent. Inside was not much better for the natives were
starving. By mid March, the Indians called for a truce and sent their women and children
out asking the Spaniards to spare them. They did, by making slaves out of them. A
couple of weeks later, the defenders attempted a mass escape by sallying at night.
Discovered by the Spaniards, they were massacred; some escaped and spread the news
of the horrors inflicted upon them. In the meantime, EI Turco learned more about the
Spaniards, and cleverly wove adaptations of this knowledge into his tales of Quivira.
Thus, he was able to endow Quivira with a monarch who was carried in a great litter
(reminiscent of Motecuzoma), war dogs, wagons, and even a religion that involved prayer
books and a Queen of Heaven. As each falsehood was eagerly accepted by the gullible
Spaniards, it almost seemed to challenge El Turco to come up with a bigger one.
Fourteen months had gone by since the expedition's departure from Compostela; on April
23, 1541, the army set forth from Ti-wesh. With Coronado and El Turco leading the way,
the expeditionary force of some 1,500 Spaniards and native auxiliaries, 1,000 horses,
500 cattle, anid 5,000 sheep plodded forward at an agonizingly slow pace. The
commander and his officers debated the possibility of sending a flying column ahead
rather than advance with so cumbersome a force as the main army. Coronado decided
against splitting his forces; if Quivira turned out to be another Tenochtitlan, he didn't want
to be at too great a numerical disadvantage. There is reason to believe that El Turcc
may have conspired with Bigotes and other chiefs to lead the Spaniards as far away as
possible from their lands; it was hoped they might wander into the vast plains and die
from hunger and thirst.
Following markers from an earlier exploration, they came to a place they called El Llano
Estacado, or The Staked Plains. It is not known whether this name came from the
strange geological formations that might have resembled palisades, or from the practice
of placing stakes in the ground along their trail to enable the Spaniards to find their way
back. Soon, they came upon the endless herds of buffalo, and marveled at the sight of
these large beasts. They wondered if this might not be a part of Asia because one of the
men remembered having read in the Journeys of Marco Polo about crook-backed, long
haired cattle such as they were now encountering in overwhelming numbers. It made
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sense if you had never seen a yak or a buffalo. A while later, they observed tracks in the
sod that looked like someone might have dragged parallel lances. Following the tracks
they came upon a tribe of nomad plains natives whose travois, a two-pole litter dragged
by dogs, had made the markings. These were the Querechos, a friendly tribe of hunters
who followed the great herds; Coronado found them gentle and likeable. Here, the
Spaniards also saw their first buffalo hide tents, or Tipis.
At this time, the tribes of the Great Plains were in the midst of a major dislocation;
migrations to the north were forcing many tribes southward. The gentle, likeable
Querechos, related to the Navajos, would someday evolve into that fierce, dreaded
people whose name in all languages was recognized as the enemy: Apache. Speaking
with them Coronado learned of a great river to the east where rich nations lived. The
intelligence provided by the Querechcs convinced Coronado to change the direction of
his exploration, and he turned southward into the vast grasslands where there were no
trails. Although this was not the direction in which El Turco had hoped to take the army, it
would have served the purpose of his fellow plotters, that is, to lead the army into an area
where it would get lost and starve to death except for two things; there was plenty of
buffalo for food, and it rained enough to provide drinking water.
At one point, the Spaniards came upon a great Barranca, or gorge, where they found
another tribe, the Hasinai. Because they greeted everyone with the word "Teyas," or
friend, the Spaniards called them by that name, which they recorded as "Texas," and
eventually gave the state its name. One of these natives, an old blind man, told of
meeting four men such as these Spaniards several years earlier, Cabeza de Vaca and
his companions. (One can only hope he didn't precede this statement with the words
"Well, it certainly is a small world!"). Thinking these Spaniards were like the Children of
the Sun, as Cabeza de Vaca and his party were called, the Texas natives brought
forward several buffalo robes to be blessed. The Spaniards assumed they were gifts and
walked off with them. How did the astounded natives react? They wept.
The change in the topography confused the Spaniards; this plus the information obtained
from the Texas natives made it apparent that something was not entirely right with El
Turco's directions. For some time, Isopete, El Turco's companion, had been trying to
convince the Spaniards that El Turco was lying,, but nobody paid much attention to him;
they had wanted to believe his stories. When they reached the edge of the barranca,
Isopete had had enough; he threw himself to the ground and refused to get up, saying he
would rather have his head chopped off than continue in the same direction because it
was not the way to Quivira. His actions finally drew the attention of Coronado and the
other Spaniards who now put hard questions to El Turco. Infronted and intimidated, the
inspired prevaricator broke down and confessed he had led the army in the wrong
direction and that his descriptions of Quivira were mostly lies. Coronado placed him in
irons while he made up his mind regarding a proper fate for the man who had so
embarrassed the entire expedition. The army advanced to the next barranca which is
now known as Palo Duro Canyon. Here, Isopete told Coronadc it would be impossible
for the entire army to make the journey to Quivira. Coronado decided to heed the advice
of his guide and detached a group of thirty horsemen, twelve infantrymen, Fray Juan de
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Padilla, two more friars, and some natives to journey to Quivira. The rest of the army
was dispatched under the able leadership of Tristan de Arellano to return to Ti-wesh, a
most difficult and challenging feat which he accomplished without losses. Coronado and
his party, which included the disgraced El Turco marching in irons, traveled across the
Texas-Oklahoma Panhandle region advancing into Kansas where they reached the
Arkansas River on June 29, 1541. Along the way they had suffered from thirst and heat;
they also learned to cook using buffalo chips for firewood. About a week later, they finally
came to Isopete's village.
Quivira! What a disappointment! Just another miserable village filled with tattooed
natives who were less civilized and poorer than the Pueblo Indians. Coronado did what
he could; he claimed the land and its inhabitants for the crown of Spain. The Spaniards
remained in the area for twenty five days exploring and measuring its wealth or lack
thereof. A chronicler of the expedition, Juan Jaramillo, liked the gentle, river-crossed
countryside and saw its potential for settling. Coronado cared for it not at all; there was
no gold. Calling a council of his officers, Coronado decided they would rejoin the main
army and return later to Quivira to explore and occupy the area. El Turco tried his last
stratagem; he attempted to incite the local natives, the Wichitas, to rise up against the
Spaniards. He advised them to kill the horses first because this would leave the
Spaniards helpless. Isopete reported El Turco's treachery. Under questioning (probably
torture), El Turcc revealed all his lies past and present, and attempted one more; there
was really rich land further east. This time no one would believe him. Coronado gave the
order, and El Turco was garroted that very night. The following day, he gave another
order, this one to return to Ti-wesh. They didn't know it but, at that point, both Coronado's
and DeScto's parties were only three hundred miles away from each other.
Coronado and his men began the journey back to Ti-wesh, disappointment in their hearts
and minds. The expedition was now recognized as a failure; there were no new
Tenochtitlans, there was no gold, and there would be no glory. Worse still, the investors
were broke; Coronado and Mendoza had lost fortunes. Bitterness became a staple of
their daily mental diet. It was to be followed by disaster. Coronado and his men arrived
in Ti-wesh by mid-September where they rejoined Arellano and the main army. The
decision was made to winter at Ti-wesh. Having alienated the native population, the
Spaniards suffered from hunger in addition to the cold.
On December 27, 1541, Coronado decided to relieve the boredom and monotony of
camp life by engaging in a horse race with Rodrigo Maldonado. Coronado looked
forward to the excitement of the race as he mounted his spirited horse. For the occasion,
his servants used a new girth that had been kept in storage for a long time. As Coronado
and Maldonado dashed ahead, galloping at break neck speed, Coronado's mount began
to pull ahead of Malodonado's. At this point, the new girth broke (probably rotted from
long storage), Coronado fell in front of Maldonado's horse, and was struck in the head by
a hoof. The injury nearly proved fatal, but Coronado's strong constitution pulled him
through. Unfortunately, between the failure of the expedition and the blow on the head,
he became melancholy and listless; he was never the same man again. The expedition
finally made it back to New Spain where, after reporting his .discouraging news to a
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disgusted Mendoza, Coronado returned to his governorship in Nueva Galicia. Not too
long after, he was denounced by certain members of the expedition, in particular the
shrewish Francisca de Hozes and her henpecked husband. Coronado was charged with
cruelty to the natives, malversation of state funds, and gambling. In his lessened
physical and mental state, Coronado was barely able to testify in his own behalf;
nevertheless, he was acquitted. In his broken condition, he was unable to perform his
duties as governor, and was relieved of his post. Embittered and ill, he died in 1554, one
more casualty of the lust for gold.
Hope springs eternal, and often proves warranted On the other hand, greed is endlessly
insatiable, and often delivers what is undesirable.
Hernando De Soto Discovers the Mississippi River
Born in 1500, Hernando De Soto first journeyed to the new world at the tender age of
fourteen. He served as a page to Pedrarias Davila, the recently appointed governor of
Castilla de Oro, the Panama province where on September 25, 1513, Vasco Nuñez de
Balboa had discovered the Pacific Ocean. During the crossing of the Atlantic, de Soto
became acquainted with some of the men who were destined to make history in the new
world, Diego de Almagro, Sebastian de Benalcazar, Bernal Diaz del Castillo, and the
man whose expedition was to compete with his own exploration some 25 years later in
North America, Francisco Vasquez de Coronado.
Born in Jerez, De Soto was a countryman of Balboa's, and looked forward to meeting the
famous explorer who had first arrived in Panama hidden in a pork barrel to escape from
his creditors on Hispaniola. Balboa took a liking to the young Hernando, and gave him
fencing lessons. Balboa was careful to cultivate friendships among the natives, and got
along well with most of the local tribes. The Spanish settlers thought so highly of him that,
in an unusual gesture of generosity, they voted that his dog, Leoncico (Little Lion), should
receive an equal share of gold because the dog fought as hard as six men. Young
Hernando's friendship with Balboa grew as the boy learned his soldiering lessons from
the hardy veteran and the other experienced explorers.
Unfortunately, Balboa's charm never persuaded Pedrarias Davila who developed a
dislike for the explorer that bordered on hatred. A cunning and cruel man, Pedrarias
began to set the stage for Balboa's demise. Upon Balboa's return from one of his
expeditions into the interior of Panama, Pedrarias had him arrested on a contrived charge
of treason; the arresting officer was Balboa's old comrade in arms and future conqueror
of Peru,Franciso Pizarro. After a quick and highly questionable trial, on the 21st of
January, despite his popularity, Balboa was beheaded. Accompanied by Anayantsi ,
Balboa's native mistress and the faithful Leoncico, De Soto gave Christian burial to his
friend.
In the years that followed, Hernando De Soto grew up to be a much respected leader and
man at arms, distinguishing himself both in combat and i» jousting tournaments. He
remained in the new world, still in the service of Pedrarias Davila, participating in
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numerous expeditions throughout Central America. He also spent a considerable
amount of time in Nicaragua. During these years, he formed a lasting friendship with two
of his companions at arms, Hernan Ponce de Leon and Francisco Compañon . The three
men decided to pool their resources for greater leverage in financing gold seeking
ventures; in their pact, they agreed that if one of them were to die, the others would
receive his share of the wealth - unless he had specified otherwise in his last will and
testament. While the trio was in the city of Leon in Nicaragua, Compañon was stricken
by a sudden illness, and died shortly after in the arms of his friend and heir, De Soto. As
a result of the pooling of their resources and the unexpected death of Compañon, De
Soto and Ponce de Leon were now wealthy men.
Hundreds of mines to the south, in Panama, another partnership had been formed
between some of De Soto‘s friends and former companions from his days in that country.
Francisco Pizarro, Diego de Almagro, and Hernando de Luque pooled their belongings to
finance the search for the kingdoms of Peru. After two mostly unsuccessful expeditions
which produced little treasure, but garnered valuable information about the rich Inca
kingdom to the south, Pizarro and his partners mounted a third venture, which left
Panama in January of 1531. While this expedition was in progress, Pizarro's emissaries
had been courting De Soto in Nicaragua to get him to join and invest in the Peruvian
venture. In March of 1531, De Soto was in Leon Nicaragua at the bedside of Pedrarias
Davila who, given the terribly short life spans of the time (about 40), amazingly had
reached the age of 91 De Soto was at the old man's bedside when he died. (See below
why De Soto was at Pedrarias‘ bedside.)
When Francisco de Pizarro offered to make De Soto lieutenant general of the expedition,
he decided to join. (De Soto's adventures in Peru made him an even wealthier man and
will be covered in the chapter on the Incas.) He returned to Spain in 1535 where he
married the daughter of Pedrarias, Dona Isabel de Bobadilla, whom he had met on his
initial voyage to the new world when he was only fourteen years old. While in Spain, he
met with the emperor, Charles V, who took a liking to him. The monarch asked him
about his adventures in Peru and, after also hearing of the wealth he had accumulated
from them (about $4.5 million in 1985 U.S. dollars), promptly obtained a loan of about $1
million from him. (The emperor's many wars and obligations had depleted the royal
treasury; he pledged the revenues of expected taxes from Granada to cover the loan.)
De Soto could have whiled away the remainder of his days in Seville with Isabel, his new
wife, enjoying the wealth he had accumulated during his twenty one years of
campaigning in the new world. He was famous, favored by the emperor, and liked by
Spaniards of all social conditions. He had proven his worth and returned home in triumph
a wealthy and much admired man. Isabel feared the wanderlust would soon claim a man
who had not known a normal home for two decades. De Soto tried to calm her fears by
pointing out that there were no worthy challenges left in the new world. The great
kingdoms had been conquered by Cortés and PIzarro, and most of the hemisphere had
been explored except for that vast unknown to the North called Florida. Isabel's fears
might never have materialized had it not been for a visitor who came to call upon De Soto
in Seville, Albar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca. The tall, gaunt, sunburned figure soon became
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a regular fixture in the De Soto household. As De Soto and Cabeza de Vaca traded tales
of their adventures in the New World, the question of Florida became evermore intriguing.
All of the northern expanse from Labrador to the Gulf of Mexico 'was considered Florida;
most of it remained unexplored despite several Spanish efforts.
A forrmer page of King Fernando, Juan Ponce de Leon, had sailed to the Indies with
Ovando, and settled Puerto Rico. From there he sailed in search of an island rumored to
hold a Fountain of Eternal Youth. On Easter Sunday, 1512, he landed in Florida. The
Spanish word for Easter is Pascua Florida (which means A Flowery Passover), hence the
name. Returning to Spain, he was granted the governorship of Florida by King
Fernando. In 1513, at the head of an expedition, Ponce de Leon again disembarked in
Florida. After his experience with the relatively pacific Taino natives of the Caribbean
islands. Ponce de Leon was stunned by the ferocity of the Florida tribesmen who killed
most of his men. Undaunted, he returned again in 1521 at the head of yet another
expedition. He landed near what today is called Charlotte Harbor with 250 men and 50
horses. The Calusa natives immediately attacked the intruders with such force that the
expedition was pushed back to its ships with devastating losses. Ponce de Leon was
wounded by a poisoned arrow; the remaining seven survivors carried him back to Cuba
where he died shortly after.
Not long after Ponce de Leon's unhappy expedition, Lucas Vasquez de Ayllon, a judge
residing in Santo Domingo, decided to mount an expedition of his own to tap the yet
undelivered riches of Florida. In a joint venture with six other wealthy inhabitants of
Hispaniola, he chartered two ships and landed in Florida. He was lucky enough to run
into a friendly tribe of natives with whom the Spaniards set up trading. Seeing how
trusting the natives were, he lured them on board his ships, and captured them carrying
them off to be sold as slaves in Hispaniola. One of the ships sank on the return journey;
the other arrived safely, and its human cargo was sold to local plantation owners as slave
workers. Neither the slaves nor their new masters fared well; without their freedom, the
native slaves soon became listless and starved themselves to death.
Ayllon mounted another expedition, and in 1524 traveled with three ships to Florida. The
Spaniards encountered another tribe that also received them well. After three days of
celebrations the natives, in an act of almost poetic justice, launched a surprise attack
upon the Spaniards nearly wiping them out. Vasquez de Ayllon and four of his men
escaped. Upon his return to Hispaniola, he acknowledged that the natives had merely
done to him what he had done to them earlier.
The next expedition, in 1527, was the equally ill fated one of Panfilo de Narvaez. Of five
ships, six hundred men and one hundred horses, only four men survived, Albar Nunez
Cabeza de Vaca and his three companions. As De Soto listened to Cabeza de Vaca's
tales, the challenge of Florida grew in his mind. De Soto met with three of his closest and
most trusted friends, and advisers to obtain their opinions regarding the gaunt explorer
and his tales of Florida. Having received favorable impressions, De Soto's next step was
to meet with Cabeza de Vaca and suggest a joint venture. To his surprise, Cabeza de
Vaca declined offering as his reasons the exhausting nature of his earlier experience and
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its effects upon both his health and spirits. Further, he said, he could not consider any
new ventures until after he had made his report to the king. After thinking the project over
for a few days, De Soto decided to go ahead with it, and Journeyed to Madrid to petition
the king for permission.
The king, who was of De Soto's same age and liked him, was delighted with the project.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to find qualified leaders willing to undertake and
finance such ventures. The king's approval and the magic of De Soto's name drew
volunteers from all walks of life. Pizarrro's and Cortés' expeditions had fanned the flames
of Spanish desire for adventure and great noble deeds, so common among the
Spaniards of that period. There were new worlds to discover and conquer, adventures in
strange lands with fascinating peoples and customs and, above all, there were riches to
be had. That the successful explorers had returned covered with glory, rich beyond their
wildest dreams, and had also been granted titles of nobility, only served to stir the
fantasies brewing in the minds and hearts of eager Spanish fortune seekers. Veterans,
young and old, of European and African wars, wealthy merchants, restless clerics eager
to save new souls (and escape from their humdrum lives), and adventurers of every kind,
sold their belongings and mortgaged their properties to join the expedition. If anyone
could find another land of fabled wealth in the new world, who better than the dashing
hero of the conquest of Central America and Peru who had received the Order of
Santiago from the king himself? How could an expedition with so many advantages go
wrong? The time to get in on it was now before anyone else could get their hands on the
treasures awaiting them in the vastness of Florida.
The king granted De Soto the title of Adelantado along with that of Marquess of the lands
he would conquer. He also made him governor of Cuba and Governor/Captain General of
Florida. Of all of these offerings, De Soto valued most the governorship of Cuba
because, practical man that he was, he realized it enabled him to organize a good supply
line from that island to the mainland. The letter of authorization for the expedition was
issued on April 20, 1537, instructing De Soto to start within a year, taking with him at
least five hundred men with all the necessary arms and horses, as well as supplies for
eighteen months. It also reminded him of the now standard Requerimiento, or the
document to be read to newly encountered peoples regarding their new status as
subjects of his majesty. The Requerimiento (Requirement) was to be read to the natives
several times before taking any action against them. His majesty made one more,
somewhat strange stipulation; he instructed De Soto not to take with him any lawyers. It
Seems the king had already had enough headaches from lawsuits and other troubles
arising from the presence of lawyers in earlier expeditions.
De Soto set about organizing the expedition with the help of his two good friends, Nuño
Tovar and Luis Moscoso y Alvarado. High on the list of priorities was the selection of
men; in addition to avoiding lawyers, they also wanted to be rid of any troublesome and
generally useless courtiers, Thanks to the abundance of volunteers, very tight selection
criteria were applied with preference given on the whole to younger men who would be
more likely to support the rigors of the expedition, and less likely to challenge orders and
commands. De Soto also included several of his kinsmen and friends; he knew the value
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of loyal and trusted lieutenants. Originally, the expedition was to consist of only five ships,
but eventually grew to number ten vessels, and included 950 men, not counting sailors
and cabin boys. De Soto invested his entire fortune in the enterprise; his wife offered to
sell her jewels, but he declined the assistance indicating that contributions from the many
volunteers more than made up for any shortfalls. A few days before the fleet was to set
sail, De Soto was informed that he would be joined by another twenty ships bound for
Mexico under the command of Gonzalo de Salazar (one of Cortés' Conquistadors). The
Mexican fleet would escort the expedition as far as Cuba and would sail on to Veracruz.
On April 6, 1538, the powerful fleet set sail for the new world. At the last minute before
sailing, De Soto received disturbing news from Jerez; his mother had died.
As the ships ran before the wind and their first day at sea neared its end, De Soto gave
instructions to the sentries to ensure that all guns were manned and ready to fire on any
unrecognized vessel that might approach the flagship at night. There was always the
danger of privateers attempting to steal a prize even from a fleet of this size. Word was
passed around to all ships that none was to pass the flagship under any circumstances
and, come nightfall, each captain was report his ship's position by megaphone. As luck
would have it, that same night a ship passed the flagship without hailing. The officer of
the watch, Gonzalo Silvestre, one of De Soto's trusted soldiers, could not recognize the
passing vessel and fired a cannon shot that went through the ship's sails from stem to
stern; a second shot broke off a couple of spars. The strange vessel quickly lost speed
and soon voices could be heard crying for mercy in Spanish. Awakened by the
commotion, De Soto rushed topside, and saw the vessels bound for a collision. He called
all hands on deck and ordered his troops to use their lances to ward off the damaged
vessel. At the cost of several hundred broken lances and pikes, the maneuver worked,
but the rigging of both ships became entangled. After some frenetic cutting and hacking
of lines and spars by sailors on both vessels, The offending vessel turned out to be main
ship of the Mexican contingent under the command of Gonzalo de Salazar.
De Soto shocked everyone by swearing to have Salazar beheaded at dawn. The fact is
that such breaches of discipline were traditionally punishable by death. But, this was a
side of De Soto which none of the present had seen; they knew him only as an affable
and kindly man. The reason for the unacceptable behavior on the part of Salazar's ship is
not known, but when Salazar heard of De Soto's threat, he presented himself on board
the flagship and, prostrated himself before De Soto, crying that the whole thing had been
a mistake on the part of the pilot, and had taken place while he, Salazar, was asleep. De
Soto gave Salazar a severe tongue lashing reminding him of the fact that several
thousand lives were at stake, and such negligence and lack of discipline were
Inexcusable. Then, to the great relief of his wife and his captains, De Soto accepted
Salazar's explanation and anguished excuses. There would be no doubt from this
moment on as to who was in command of the expedition and what level of discipline was
expected.
The fleet arrived before the Canary Island on Easter Sunday, the 21 st of April, 1538,
and anchored off the island of Gomera (where Columbus stopped to pay his respects to
Dona Beatriz de Pedraza y Bobadilla who may have been related to De Soto's wife,
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Isabel de Bobadilla). They were received by the governor of the island, a count, who was
related to doña Isabel. For three days they were lavishly entertained by the governor and
his family. At doña Isabel's request, one of the governor's daughters accompanied her on
the voyage as a lady in waiting. On April 24th the fleet set sail for Cuba, and made the
crossing without event. When they were within two days of Cuba, the Mexican escort
continued on its way to its destination much to relief of both De Soto and Salazar. Soon,
the outline of Hispaniola became visible on the horizon, but the fleet gave it wide berth
because of the island of Tortuga off its north shore which had already become a safe
haven for pirates. As they approached the island of Cuba, De Soto gave the order to
follow the shoreline until they reached Santiago. Entering the harbor, a strange Incident
took place. As the flagship advanced followed by the rest of the fleet, a rider on shore
shouted at the top of his voice:"To port. Veer to port!" The command didn't make sense to
the ships' pilots who knew from their charts that the area was full of reefs and shallows.
Nevertheless, the flagship began to follow the rider's instructions; suddenly, the rider
gave the opposite order which was echoed by others on the beach: "To starboard! To
starboard! Look out for the reefs!" All the vessels came about but the flagship, which was
closer into to shore, hit a reef. Panic ensued aboard the flagship, especially among the
landlubbers. Friars immediately intoned their psalms, women thought of jumping
overboard, men rushed to be on the first longboat away from the ship. During the
maneuvers of the longboat, a frantic friar, Hernando de Mesa, fell overboard and had to
be rescued by the sailors. The crew manned the pumps and began damage control
efforts. De Soto, calm throughout the entire episode, went below and inspected the
damage. The bilge coming out of the pumps turned out be wine from broken jars in the
hold; otherwise, the ship was in good condition.
Discovering the ship to be in sound condition, De Soto ordered the vessel to proceed to
anchorage and begin normal unloading. Inquiries into the confusing behavior of the rider
and his companions on the beach revealed that this was a a maneuver they had
developed to intentionally mislead hostile vessels, particularly pirates, and lure them onto
the reefs. Only ten days earlier, a Spanish vessel and a French privateer had fought a
battle at the entrance to the bay. The battle had gone on for three days following the
somewhat gentlemanly rules of the day, which allowed the vessels to break off at nightfall
when the respective captains exchanged salutations and gifts of food and drink. On the
fourth day, the French ship broke off the engagement and departed. When De Soto's
ship appeared, the locals did not recognize it as Spanish, and used the stratagem to run
it aground. When the local population realized who their visitors were they went to great
pains to extend every courtesy and make their stay as pleasant as possible.
As governor, De Soto immediately set about organizing his cavalry with 200 horses he
had brought with the fleet, plus an equal amount purchased locally. He organized strict
training drills, jousts and contests to encourage the men to sharpen their skills. The city of
Habana had recently been devastated by an attack on the part of French privateers. De
Soto sent a master builder from his fleet to commence the rebuilding of the unfortunate
city and endow it with a much needed fortress. He received the visit of don Vasco
Porcallo de Figueroa, a wealthy settler who lived in Trinidad (Porcallo had been chosen
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by former Governor Velasquez to replace Cortés in Mexico, and had also greeted Panfilo
de Narvaez when he stopped there on his way to Florida). Porcallo was delighted by De
Soto and his men; he was especially taken by their military bearing, fanfare and
disciplines. An enthusiastic man by nature, he quickly volunteered to supply enough men,
horses and supplies equal to the largest contingent offered by any of the original
members who joined the expedition in Spain. De Soto was happy to receive the support
and accepted Pocallo's offer.
The period on the island was not without its problems, one of which turned out to be quite
painful for De Soto. As the days went by, De Soto's wife began to notice that Nuño de
Tovar, De Soto's old friend and companion of earlier campaigns, was paying far more
attention to young Isabel de Bobadllla (daughter of the Count of Gomera, governor of the
island in the Canaries) than was proper. Within a few weeks, it became evident that the
matter had advanced beyond control. De Soto was informed and called Tovar before
him. Tovar was ordered to Immediately marry Isabel de Bobadilla, and was barred from
going on with the expedition. Vasco de Porcallo was given Tovar's command. Tovar
requested he be allowed to stay on as a common soldier but, painful as it was for him to
do this to his good friend who had in fact saved his life, it was a matter of honor and De
Soto would not bend. Tovar was assigned to the Cuban garrison, and De Soto wrote to
the Count of Gomera informing of the marriage.
In preparation for the expedition, De Soto took a party of fifty horsemen and set out for
Habana traveling cross country. He instructed the rest of the cavalry to follow 1n groups
of fifty carrying their own supplies. The journey was about 530 miles in length, but when
they reached the village of Puerto de Principe on the north coast 240 miles from
Santiago, news reached De Soto that the fleet had made to sea and encountered bad
weather; as a result, it had been forced to take a wide detour to avoid a bad storm.
Concerned for his wife's safety and that of the entire expedition, De Soto gave word to
the cavalry to continue on its route, and took a ship for Habana. Arriving in Habana, he
was greeted by his wife who had arrived earlier with the fleet, and by the entire
population of the city. Located on a beautiful bay, the city was founded in 1515 by
Governor Velasquez on Saint Christopher's day, and christened San Cristobal de la
Habana. De Soto's master builder, Mateo, had made good progress in repairing the
damages inflicted by the French pirates, and the city was beginning to return to normal.
De Soto now turned his attention to the exploration of Florida and sent an advance party
in two brigantines under the command of Juan de Anasco to survey the land and the
shorelines. Anasco, purser of the royal estates and an experienced cartographer, was
also to enlist the services of natives as interpreters. De Soto was determined not to
repeat the errors of his predecessors by landing 1n Florida with little or no knowledge of
the terrain and its inhabitants. Anasco returned eight weeks later with two natives he was
training as Interpreters, and abundant information about Florida's coastlines. The
information was good, but not good enough. De Soto did not want to use up his forces in
exploratory probes into the interior of Florida. He wanted a clear report that indicated a
good place to land directly accessible from Cuba, and where the expedition could begin
its mission. Anasco was sent back, this time taking three months before he returned. The
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exploration had been far more difficult, but the information much better; he had also
brought back two more natives as interpreters. By now, the rest of the cavalry had
arrived 1n Habana, and Vasco de Porcallo had the expedition almost ready for the
Journey to Florida.
Through the grapevine (actually ships that stopped in Habana on the way to Mexico), De
Soto heard of an expedition that was being mounted by the viceroy of Mexico to explore
Florida. Not wanting to enter into Jurisdictional disputes over the lands to be explored,
he sent a messenger to the viceroy outlining the scope of his expedition and the
territories involved. The viceroy was pleased with De Soto's thoughtfulness, and replied
that there was no conflict as his expedition would cover a different region.
As the preparations for the journey were nearing completion, a ship escaping from a
storm at sea pulled into the port. To observers on shore, it was evident that the vessel
had been attempting to avoid the port, but had been unable to. As soon as the ship was
moored and contact established with port authorities, the word spread throughout the city
that De Soto's old friend and business partner from Nicaragua and Peru, Hernan Ponce
de Leon was on board. It seems Ponce de Leon still owed De Soto his share of some of
the unfinished business remaining from the Peruvian expedition, and was attempting to
avoid meeting that obligation. De Soto was delighted at the news of his friend's arrival
and, along with his greetings, sent Ponce de Leon an invitation to visit with him and his
wife. Ponce de Leon declined saying he was too tired from his voyage. De Soto was a
good friend but also no fool; he accepted Ponce de Leon's excuses saying he would
await his visit the following day, and then posted lookouts to make sure the ship did not
attempt to leave port that night.
The precautions paid off; in the wee hours of the morning a boat was seen leaving the
ship. When it reached the shore, the seamen unloaded a large bundle and two sea
chests, which they immediately began to bury. De Soto's men came out of hiding, and a
short struggle followed with the seamen being routed. The booty was taken before De
Soto who realized his friend had been attempting to hide part of the treasure worth some
forty thousand pesos of gold in jewels and gold before entering into negotiations
regarding shares. Saddened but still prudent, he decided to wait for Ponce de Leon's visit
the following day.
Ponce de Leon arrived, disturbed at the loss of his fortune. The two men spent several
hours talking. At one point, De Soto ordered the treasure brought in, and allowed Ponce
de Leon to inspect it. Shamed, Ponce de Leon offered a thousand apologies. De Soto
told him he considered the contract still in force (which meant Ponce de Leon would
share in the benefits of De Soto's expedition). Ponce de Leon offered ten thousand pesos
as a contribution to the expedition and the promise of more later. The men renewed their
friendship, and signed a contract extending the terms of the old one. As Ponce de Leon
was returning to Spain, De Soto gave him a power of attorney to collect revenues due
from the silks that the king had given him in exchange for the loan. He also made out his
will naming as heirs his wife and his children by earlier liaisons; among the stipulations
were instructions for his burial at Jerez de los Caballeros, his place of birth. To his wife
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he gave a full power of attorney to manage his affairs in his absence, and the power to
act as governor with the assistance of Don Juan de Rojas who had administered the
island before De Soto's arrival.
On Sunday, May 18, 1539, the fleet of nine ships with 620 men and 230 horses sailed for
Florida. On board, was Nuño de Tovar, who had received permission to join the
expeditionas a private soldier. Shortly after De Soto's departure. Ponce de Leon
approached De Soto's wife through an attorney demanding that she state clearly if she
agreed to comply with the terms of the contract he had entered into with her husband. He
further insisted she return the ten thousand pesos he had given for the expedition. The
shifty conquistador had underestimated the strength of this woman, a true daughter of the
fierce Pedrarias Davila. So stern was her reply, which included a threat of jail if Ponce de
Leon did not meet his commitments, that he quickly renewed the contract and gave
further promises of compliance. The effectiveness of Doña Isabel's reaction was such
that Ponce de Leon wasted no time in returning to his ship and setting sail for Spain.
On May 25th they sighted Florida, but sailed on for a few days avoiding sand bars. On
May 30th, they landed in the neighborhood of Tampa Bay near a village whose chief was
named Uscita. De Soto went ashore, and in a formal ceremony took possession of the
land in the name of his most Catholic Majesty, Charles the Fifth. The first day on land
was filled with ceremonies and short excursions; men and horses were happy to stretch
their legs after several days at sea. At nightfall, after setting up camp, the usual guards
were posted. The sentries, having heard some of the horror stories from earlier
expeditions were nervous and suspected they were being watched by natives. The night
was quiet, and the men sleeping on the beach were enjoying the gentle, fragrant breezes
of the Florida climate. The fears of the sentries were confirmed when at three in the
morning the silence was shattered by war whoops, and hundreds of natives swooped
down upon the camp firing arrows and swinging their tomahawks. These were not the
relatively small and mild mannered natives the Spaniards had known in the Caribbean.
The Florida warriors were tall, powerfully built, and shaved their skulls leaving only a tuft
of hair on the top interwoven with eagle feathers as a form of decoration.
The three hundred Spaniards did not panic, but organized themselves as best they could
into a defensive square firing their harquebuses, and sounding the trumpets to alert the
reinforcements still on board the ships. Vasco Porcallo de Figueroa responded quickly
and soon several boats landed men and horses, which turned the tide of the battle. With
Porcallo at its head, the relief column pursued the natives into the thickets until they could
no longer be followed. As he was returning to the camp, he noticed his horse was
bleeding, and beginning to have difficulty moving. An arrow had pierced the animal,
driving through the saddle and padding into its rib cage. Shortly afterwards, the sorrel
dropped dead. De Soto came ashore and congratulated Porcallo on his performance.
De Soto doubled the guards, and disembarked the rest of troops and horses
disembarked. Detachments were sent out on the brigantines to explore the land to the
north; they landed scouting parties, which returned with reports of land that was difficult
to traverse because of thorny bushes and frequent patches of swamps. At each of the
landing sites, small detachments were left to continue scouting until such time as the
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main army met up with them on its march northward. As the army advanced it passed
through the territory of the Ocita who were governed by a chief called Hirrihigua. The
chief had taken off for the high ground as soon as he heard of the arrival of the
Spaniards.
Through the native Interpreters brought by Anasco's earlier expedition, it was learned
that the chief was a brave and cruel warrior who detested the Spaniards ever since a
fierce captain had visited his lands earlier. The hated Spaniard was Panfilo de Narvaez
who had cut off the hands of several natives, and even mutilated the chief by cutting off
his nose. De .Soto wished to make amends for the damage done by Narvaez, and sent
one of the interpreters with gifts and a message inviting the chief to visit him in his
camp. He instructed the messenger to tell the chief that there were good and bad
Spaniards just as there were good and bad natives and that he wished to demonstrate
his friendship and build a new relationship. Hirrihigua was not about to give another
Spaniard a chance to cut off anything else of his, and declined the offer.
A strange event came to light as a result of a story told by one of the interpreters. He
reported there was a white man living with a nearby tribe whose chief was known to be
friendly and kind. The chief's name was Mococo and his tribe was related to that of
Hirrihigua. De Soto decided to find out if the story was true, and rescue the stranded
Spaniard. A troop of forty cavalry was dispatched under the command of Baltasar
Gallegos to seek out Mococo and his white prisoner. After several days of cautious
advance to avoid ambushes, Gallego and his troops came upon a party of some thirty
natives standing in a clearing. Most of them ran away except for two of them who moved
toward the Spaniards. The Spaniards misinterpreted the move and charged.
In the lead was Alvaro Nieto who threw a spear at the two natives. To his surprise one of
them began to shout: "Seville! Seville! In the name of God and the Holy Mother do not kill
me! I am a Christian!" He then knelt and made the sign of the cross. The startled
Spaniards surrounded the stranger who for all appearances was an Indian with his
shaved head and tuft of hair as well as bow and arrows. He told them his name was
Juan Ortiz and that he was a survivor of Narvaez' expedition. Ortiz hadn't spoken
Spanish for ten years, and had difficulty finding the words and getting the pronunciation
right. Ortiz explained that he was sent to meet the Spaniards by his master, Chief
Mococo, who had learned of their arrival through scouts. By freeing Ortiz, Mococo was
offering a gesture of friendship. Baltasar Gallego sent a message to Mococo with the
returning warriors, inviting him to visit the Spaniards' camp.
The arrival of Ortiz in the camp was a sensation. To the Spaniards it was like seeing one
of their own reborn; Ortiz, with his tufted scalp, bow and arrows, tattoos and war paint,
but speaking Spanish with a strange accent, was a masterpiece of incongruity, and
generated a fair share of rejoicing and laughter at the same time. Well born of a fine
Sevillan family, Ortiz had lived among the natives for twelve years. De Soto welcomed
him with warmth ordering the best of everything in food, wine and clothes be brought to
this young man who had been deprived of them for so long. Andalusian tunes played on
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the guitar and sung by several of the men brought tears to Ortiz' eyes. He had come to
expect that he would never again hear these treasured refrains.
After a while, Ortiz told his amazing story. When Panfilo de Narvaez marched through the
area with his expedition and mutilated Hirrihigua by cutting off his nose, he also had that
chief's mother tied to a post and torn to pieces by dogs before his own eyes. After
Narvaez had moved on, one of his ships arrived looking for him. Hirrihigua, eager for
revenge, sent messages to the Spaniards saying that he had been instructed by Narvaez
to wait for them on the beach. To further encourage the Spaniards, Hirrihigua offered to
send four of his braves as hostages while the foreign soldiers came ashore and enjoyed
a warm reception prepared for them.
Hirrihigua was too eager, and the Spaniards suspected he was up to something. Theydecided to send four men ashore in exchange for the four native hostages. As soon as
the Spaniards landed on the beach, the native hostages all leapt into the water and
escaped. The four Spaniards were taken prisoner by Hiirihigua ,and given up as lost by
those on the ship which departed shortly afterward. These natives were Calusas, as
were most of the Florida tribes, a race of hardy hunters and fearless warriors whose
language resembled that of the Arawak tribes of the Caribbean. Hirrihigua ordered that
the Spaniards be made to run the gauntlet, a double file of warriors lining the main street
of the village, who would beat them with clubs and shoot arrows at them, aiming to injure
rather than kill, thus prolonging the agony of the torture and the enjoyment of the natives.
One by one, the Spaniards ran the gauntlet, the first three being killed within the first two
hours leaving only Ortiz to take his turn at the fatal run. At this point four native women
interceded in his favor; they were the chief's wife and daughters. The chief relented, but
fully intended to make Ortiz' life so miserable that he would often wish he had died that
day. That he did; Ortiz was given every hard and thankless task the chief could devise,
chopping wood and carrying water every day from dawn to dusk. On feast days, the chief
would make Ortiz run the length of the village while the warriors fired arrows at his feet to
keep him moving and jumping. The prisoner would be kept running until his injuries
made it Impossible to continue ,at which point the chief's wife and daughters would
rescue him and treat his wounds.
One day the chief, still burning with hatred and a need for revenge, decided that he
would let Ortiz live no more. At the next feast he had the prisoner tied to a spit and
roasted over a fire. Despite the great enjoyment this spectacle brought to Hirrihigua and
his warriors, the chief's wife and daughters interceded with such vehemence and force
that he finally acceded to stopping the fun. Although the women cared for his burns to
the best of their ability, Ortiz was so badly burned that he would always carry the ugly
scars on his hips and legs. After his recovery, Ortiz received another assignment from
the chief; this time he was charged with the responsibility for watching over the tombs of
the villagers. According to their practice, the natives would build box-like huts of wooden
planks weighed down with stones to keep the wild animals, particularly the pumas, from
getting at the bodies. One night, while Ortiz dozed, a puma raided one of the huts, and
stole the body of boy who had died two days earlier. More afraid of Hirrihigua and his
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punishment than of the puma, Ortiz took off after the latter. Tracking as he had learned
from his captors, he followed the animal's tracks until he came upon it feeding on the
boy's remains. Notching an arrow to his bow, and saying a prayer 1n his heart, he fired.
The arrow went right through the puma's heart killing it instantly.
Ortiz gathered up the boy's remains and placed them back 1n the hut. He then carried
the puma with the arrow through Its heart Into the village where he received much
recognition for this feat worthy of a warrior. Hirrihigua couldn't stand being cheated out of
a good revenge, and resolved to do away with this bothersome Spaniard once and for all.
The chief's wife and daughters realized that this time there would be no turning back, and
helped Ortiz escape to the village of Chief Mococo who, as he was engaged to marry one
of Hirrihigua's daughters, was eager to please her by sheltering the Spaniard. After two
years of living hell under Hirrihigua, the next ten years spent serving Mococo were a god
sent relief for Ortiz. Now, he was back among his own kind, and the Spaniards were
happy to have him, not only because of the novelty of his adventure, but because he was
also an excellent interpreter of the local languages.
Three more incidents took place in the days following Ortiz' arrival in the camp that added
to the excitement and amusement. First, Chief Mococo arrived for his official visit. The
chief carried himself with natural dignity and grace making a favorable Impression among
the Spaniards to whose king he offered his allegiance. Then, while Mococo was still at
the camp, his mother arrived protesting what she thought was the detention of her son.
She stayed for three days, and left unconvinced of the Spaniards' good intentions;
Mococo stayed a week. He enjoyed talking with De Soto, and asking questions about
Spain, a topic that seemed to to be of special interest to him The third incident, which
caused no end of excitement, was the discovery of a Spanish woman in the camp;
Francisca Hinestrosa had disguised herself as a common soldier and, with her husband's
assistance, managed somehow to escape detection for well over a month among a
thousand men. It took all the efforts of the clergy, several captains, and other persons of
influence in the expedition to dissuade De Soto from sending the woman back to Cuba.
Finally, he relented on the condition that she work with the cooking staff and also perform
infirmary duties.
De Soto continued to attempt winning Hirrihigua's friendship by continually sending
messages of peace. The embittered chief was unrelenting in his hatred of the Spaniards
and, while he absolutely refused any form of friendship, he did Indicate that De Soto's
gestures were not in vain; 1f he could not be friendly, he would, at least, not be hostile.
This proved to be the case when some Spaniards later strayed into his territory, and were
returned witnout harm. In turn, whenever one of Hiirihigua's men was captured, De Soto
would return him with gifts. A Spaniard named Grajales suffered some embarrassment,
however, when taken prisoner by a band of native women. After carefully and laughingly
inspecting him in some detail, they fed him and forced him to wear a loin cloth, and was
still wearing it when rescued by his companions. From then on, he was always referred
to by his peers as ―Our native, Grajales,‖ and warned him never to stray from camp lest
he lose his clothes again.
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Ready to explore the lands to the north of the landing site, De Soto first sent seven of his
eleven ships back to Cuba. Under the command of Captain Pedro Calderon, he sent a
caravel and two brigantines north around the Bay of Espiritu Santo (Tampa Bay).
Concurrently, he ordered Baltasar de Gallegos to explore the area to the north. With
seventy horses and an equal number of foot soldiers (Juan Ortiz among them), Gallego
was to seek out the territory of a chief by the name of Urribarracuxi . Lieutenant General
Porcallo de Figueroa was detached with a hundred men to attempt to contact Hirrihigua,
and bring him back to camp with or without his consent. Despite his great enthusiasm,
Porcalo de Figueroa was not ready for the difficult Florida terrain. After much effort and
time spent chasing many false leads, constantly disregarding the many messages and
signs sent by Hirrihigua to dissuade him of his mission, Porcallo felt he was close to
trapping the elusive chief. Rushing forward 1n hot pursuit, he fell into a foul smelling
swamp and was pinned under his horse. Unable to receive help from his men who he
had left behind, he could not break free nor swim. With great effort, constantly in danger
of being dragged under the marshy waters, he managed to pull his trapped leg free of the
fallen horse, and struggled back to dry land.
By now, his men had caught up with him; standing there completely covered with smelly
mud, Porcallo must have looked ridiculous. Realizing his predicament, and not wanting
his men to laugh at him, the Lieutenant General let loose a mighty stream of creative
profanity that started with the ancestors of all natives whose unpronounceable names
made them unworthy of the effort of remembering them. He then raged at his own
foolishness for having left his comfortable hacienda in Cuba to come to this wilderness,
and waste his few remaining years in pursuit of miserable savages whose names began
with Curri, Hurra, or some other nonsense. After cleaning up, Porcallo de Figuero
countermarched his troops right back to camp where he promptly told De Soto he had
had enough of this foolishness and desired to return to Cuba. De Soto put a caravel at
his service; before leaving, Porcallo de Figueroa gave his horses, arms and other
belongings to his friends, leaving servants, two horses and arms to his son born of a
Cuban native. De Soto gave Porcallo letters to take to his wife. The Lieutenant
General's responsibilties were distributed between Luis Moscoso, De Soto's old friend,
and Baltasar de Gallegos
Having completed the reallocation of duties, De Soto ordered the expedition to break
camp and head north. Left behind were Captain Pedro Calderon with two brigantines,
forty horsemen and eighty infantrymen. The column moved forward divided into three
cavalry groups, two infantry units, De Soto with his guard of halberdiers in the middle, a
vanguard and a rearguard, the latter composed of artillery, baggage and a steadily
growing herd of pigs meant to serve as food if local supplies should become unavailable.
First stop was Chief Mococo's village. De Soto refused the chief's offer of hospitality not
wanting to burden the friendly native with such large numbers of men and horses. In time,
the expedition reached the village of Chief Uribarracuxi, who turned out to be more
powerful than the leaders met so far. The chief, however, took off for the hills as soon as
the main force approached his village, and refused all invitations to visit De Soto's camp.
The chief's scouts tracked all the Spaniards' movements. Coming upon a large swamp,
De Soto tried to get local native guides to point out a place to ford the waters. The guides
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tried to mislead the Spaniards several times until De Soto threatened to set the dogs
upon them unless they showed him the right place to ford the swamp; the threat worked.
The expedition arrived at the village of Acuera, which proved to be abundant in crops and
food. Try as he might with gifts and promises of protection and friendship, De Soto was
unable to get the local chief to meet with him. Earlier, unfortunate experiences with the
first white men had made the natives very wary of new contacts no matter what the
Spaniards might promise them. The chief sent word that he would attack the Spaniards if
they did not leave. De Soto gave orders to maintain strict marching discipline, and
imposed severe penalties for stragglers who had a tendency to get picked off by the
natives. Despite all of De Soto‘s efforts, fourteen men were killed or captured by local
natives.
The expedition finally arrived at Ocala, a village of some six hundred houses – all empty;
the natives had all fled at the Spaniards‘ approach. Much fatigued by the trek across
Florida‘s watery terrain and heavy bush, De Soto decided to give the men a few days rest
at the village. Suppliers of corn, pumpkins and fruit were found, and served to break the
monotony of the usual marching diet. The Spaniards sent out several scouting parties
to try to find the natives; the parties were shadowed by the native scouts. After a few
days, the native chief presented himself at the Spaniards‘ camp where he was well
received by De Soto. Accustomed to the relatively small natives of the Caribbean, the
Spaniards were astonished by the chief‘s huge size and strength. De Soto explained to
the chief that he needed the loan of some two hundred men to build a bridge across the
river near the town.
While De Soto and the chief were inspecting the site of the intended bridge, a large band
of natives emerged lot of the bush and fired a volley of arrows at the Spaniards. De Soto
was wearing helmet and armor, and was unhurt; his dog, Brutus, attacked the native
archers, and was pierced by forty arrows;, dying died almost instantly. The chief
apologized for the attack saying that since he had approached the Spaniards, his men
refused to obey his orders. The local natives, Timuquans, were tall and powerfully built;
they wore nothing but a loin skin, and decorated their bodies and faces with elaborate
tattoos. They abided by strict military discipline, and were excellent marksmen with bows
and arrows. Human sacrifice was not unknown to them, and they also scalped their
victims. Their towns were enclosed by stockades, and built in a circular pattern with a
large enclosure that served as a gathering place for the people of the village.
A bridge was finally built under the direction of the Genoese engineer Master Francesco.
Crossing the river, the expedition now entered the territory of a different native tribe. This
one was ruled by a chief whose name was Vitacicho, a warrior of some renown who often
relied on the magic powers of his shamans to intimidate his enemies. Several attempts
to cast spells on the Spaniards by placing horn blowers around their camp failed to
produce the hoped for disastrous results. The spniards retaliated by raiding one of the
villages, capturing seventeen of th inhabiatants, among them was one of Vitacucho‘s
daughters. Treated well by the Spaniards, the daughter sent word to her father that the
foreigners only wanted enough food to get them though the chief‘s territory. Vitacucho
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agreed to met De Soto, and showed up with two hundred handpicked warriors who ere
distinguished by their powerful builds, and their elaborate feathered headdresses. De
Soto made many friendly overtures, and Vitacucho agreed to escort the expedition
across his territory.
Vitacucho and De Soto walk along side on another as for several days they traversed the
chief‘s territory. Juan Ortiz understood the local dialect, and overheard comments among
the native warriors that indicated Vitacucho had planned a sneak attack against the
Spaniards at a time and a place of his choosing along the path followed by the
expedition. Informed by Ortiz, De Soto warned his men to be on the alert for treachery,
shortly afterwards, Vitacucho invited De Soto to observe a parade of ten thousand of his
warriors on a nearby plain. De Soto accepted, and as the two leaders walked on they
reached a plain where Vitacucho's ten thousand warriors stood In battle formation with
full arms and war paint. Accompanied by twelve guards, the two men walked on as 1f
nothing were happening. Suddenly, Vitacucho raised his hatchet in a war signal, and a
triumphant shout rose from the throats of the ten thousand warriors. Prepared, De Soto
gave his own signal; an arquebus was fired, and trumpets echoed through the ranks of
the Spaniards. De Soto leaped onto his horse and, grabbing his lance, charged the
center of the native formation followed by his cavalry. At the same time a detachment
of Spaniards surrounded the chief's guard and, after a short struggle, took him prisoner.
As the battle spread to all the ranks on both sides, the Spaniards wrought great havoc
among the natives with their repeated cavalry charges and volleys of crossbow and
harquebus missiles.
Native arrows also took a high toll of Spanish lives. De Soto's horse fell, eight arrows
embedded in his body. When the natives saw De Soto go down, ,they raised a great cry
of victory thinking he had been killed. De Soto disentangled himself from his mount, and
borrowed the horse of another man. De Soto then led another charge, which broke the
back of the enemy resistance. Vitacucho's men fled leaving hundreds of casualties on
the plain. Most of the natives fled to the hills, but some were cut off and stranded in the
middle of a lagoon. The Spaniards surrounded them and promised to spare their lives if
they surrendered. The braves refused and, standing on one another's shoulders to be
able to fire their arrows at the Spaniards, they kept fighting for another fourteen hours.
The Spaniards were astonished at such bravery and admired the courage and stamina of
such men. Some of the warriors, exhausted, surrendered at daybreak while others,
equally fatigued but more determined, continued to threaten the Spaniards with whatever
weapons they had at hand.
By three in the afternoon, the remaining dozen or so native warriors were so tired they
could no longer stand, and were in danger of drowning. De Soto sent strong Spanish
swimmers to bring them in. Against their will, the brave warriors were dragged to the
shore were they were given food, shelter and rest. De Soto later asked them why they
had put up so brave yet hopeless a struggle. The eldest of the warriors responded that
they did so to show their chiefs they could be trusted. It was their responsibility to set a
good example for their children who would also have to fight someday. He then
requested that De Soto order their execution so they would not have to live with the
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shame of defeat. Ordering them released, DeSoto invited the brave warriors to Join him
in a meal at his own table. Vitacucho was also brought to the table where he pleaded his
innocence attributing the whole battle to a misunderstanding. When the expedition
moved on, the prisoners were taken along under close guard as hostages.
Vitacucho continued to plot, and instructed his men through sign language that they were
to fall upon the Spaniards in a surprise attack killing as many as possible while
attempting to escape. One day, as De Soto was sharing his table with one of the
courageous braves who had survived the battle of the lagoon, the warrior leapt across
the table and landed a powerful punch to the Spaniard's face. Simultaneously, all the
prisoners made their escape attempts sowing confusion throughout the Spanish camp.
Professional soldiers such as these Spaniards were unlikely to be taken by total surprise,
and before too long all the prisoners were subdued.
Vitacucha and the brave who struck De Soto were killed in the struggle as were four
Spaniards. ' Eager to leave this hostile region, De Soto kept the column moving
northward until it finally came to the banks of the Suwanee River where another bridge
had to be built to get across. Once on the other side, they camped at two villages also
abandoned by their inhabitants. The natives, although not visible, continued to harass the
Spaniards from the woods at every opportunity. The expedition was now in territory of
the Apalachee natives.
The Land of the Apalachees.
In a land of warrior tribes, the Apalachees were respected by all others for their bravery
and ferocity. It was De Soto's good fortune that the Apalachees chose not to oppose him.
The expedition's greatest problems were the natural obstacles along the way. After
overcoming these, the expedition arrived at Ambaica Apalachee (Tallahassee) where the
tribe had its capital. The village of some 250 houses with conical roofs, central assembly
hall, and a strong palisade, was abandoned. The chief of the Apalachees, Copafi, was
nowhere to be found. De Soto set up camp in the village and sent out a scouting party of
some forty horsemen, and fifty infantry under the command of Captain Anasco; he was
instructed to find out how far they were from the sea. Finding his guides duplicitous and
unreliable, this hardy sea captain crossed the land using his navigating skills and
common sense. It was not long before he came upon Apalachicola Bay, the Bay of
Horses, where twelve years earlier Narvaez‘s expedition had eaten the last of its horses,
and built their boats with local lumber, scrap metal, and shirts for sails. There were
crosses on the beach, and the bleached bones of Narvaez‘s horses. Based on Anasco's
information, De Soto ordered him to take twenty nine men and return to the ships' which
he would then bring to Aplachicola Bay.
De Soto had decided to spend the winter in Ambaica Apalachee. By the end of
December, Anasco had brought the ships to their destination. De Soto headed up an
exploration party that had as its goal to find and capture Chief Copafi. After all the
concern about the warlike reputation of the Apalachees and the experience with
Vitacucho, the Spaniards expected Copafi to be some sort of legendary super human.
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When they finally captured him, Copafi turned out be of heroic proportions in terms of
obesity; so large was he that he could only move his massive body on all fours. In what
was now becoming a recognized native pattern, he paid obeisance to De Soto, and then
plotted constantly against him. One day, two natives arrived in the camp, and when
asked the usual questions by the Spaniards, among them the source of gold, they
indicated there was much gold in a province to the north called Cofitachequi. Although
De Soto had by now arrived at the conclusion that there would be no great gold finds in
this country, he found that the land offered wonderful opportunities for settlement, even
though the natives were far more warlike than those of the Caribbean and South
America. As he had intended to explore the lands to the north anyway, as soon as winter
allowed, he set out for what today is Georgia.
The expedition left camp on March 3, 1540, and soon arrived in a province called
Atapaha where the land was beautiful and gentle and the tribes hospitable. Further
northeast, the Spaniards came to the land of the Cofa natives whose chief received them
warmly. De Soto gave the chief and his braves a demonstration of the power of his
cannon; the natives retained their dignity and composure, but they were definitely
impressed. The chief had been so generous with food supplies and the use of his
hunting grounds where deer were so abundant, that De Soto named him keeper of the
"Channel of Thunder" and gave him the cannon. However impressive this may sound,
the fact is that the cannon was more of a hindrance than a help, requiring many men and
horses to drag it across the difficult terrain. In addition, it is one thing to own an
impressive cannon, it is another to have gunpowder and artillery skills to go with it, which
De Soto was careful not to provide. The chief went out of his way to offer De Soto all the
support for settling the area. De Soto accepted the offer but indicated he wanted to
continue his explorations before settling this land. The chief then supplied seven hundred
men as porters to help with the expedition's baggage; these natives were commanded by
a gigantic warrior whose name was Patofa. With the assistance of Patofa and his
brigade of porters, the Spaniards were able to construct bridges across the many rivers
they encountered on their way north. At one point, the expedition traversed a desert-like
area where even Patofa admitted he was lost. With the help of scouting parties, a way
out was found, but De Soto felt it was only fair to send the natives home as they were
now in lands unknown to them.
On May 1, 1540, the expedition crossed the Savannah River near today's Augusta,
Georgia, and came upon a group of natives, six braves and a beautiful woman who
seemed to be their chief. Tall and fine featured, the braves were dressed in deerskin
clothes and moccasins, and the woman wore a woven cotton garment. The Spaniards
were struck by their serene, almost emotionless expressions, seemingly unintimidated by
the foreigners and their large expedition. Through Juan Ortiz the Spaniards learned they
were in the land of Cofitachequi; the woman asked if they came in war or peace. De Soto
reassured them of his peaceful intentions, explaining the nature of his expedition, and
requesting assistance to continue his exploration of the region. The woman said she
would convey his message to her queen, and returned with her six companions to the
bark canoe that had brought them there. Later that day, a sentry sighted many canoes
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nearing the camp from the other side of the river. After landing, the natives approached
the Spaniards in a large group. Several powerfully built warriors carried a beautiful
woman on a litter, which they lowered when they reached the camp. Eight equally
beautiful maidens accompanied her; one of them brought a small, carved wooden seat
for her to use. The queen, whose name was Cofita, had an imposing presence; fine
features, a high-bridged nose, and jet black hair that contrasted sharply with the white of
her cotton tunic, were a noble setting in which her dark eyes sparkled, or blazed, as the
occasion demanded. Graceful and dignified in her speech and gestures, Cofita told De
Soto that her kingdom had been through some trying times in recent years because of
epidemics and small crops. Nevertheless, the Spaniards were welcome, and would
receive shelter and food among her people.
A young woman, Cofita, had not been queen very long; her goal, she told De Soto, was
to reign in peace. She and her people had heard cf the white men's expeditions, but had
never met them before. De Soto described Spain to Ccfita, and explained the purpose of
his journey. The queen unwound a necklace of several strands of pearls from her neck
and placed around De Soto's neck. Not to be outdone, De Soto removed a large ruby
ring from his finger and placed it on Cofita's finger. The following days were devoted by
the Spaniards and the natives to resting and sharing their cultures with one another.
Ccfita‘s people were a tribe of the Creek nation and spoke a Muskhogean language.
There was no gold in the region, but when the queen noticed the Spaniards' obvious
appreciation of pearls, she indicated they were of little interest to her and, if De Soto
wanted more he had but to look inside two special houses in the village. These
turned out to be the resting place of the tribe's deceased nobles whose remains were
kept in carved wooden coffins. Near them were large willow baskets in which enormous
quantities of pearls and marten pelts were kept.
De Soto was very pleased by the queen's gift, and was careful to instruct his men not to
take all the treasures. His restraint further impressed Cofita who then told him he could
have all the pearls he wanted from a nearby deserted village. Arriving at the abandoned
village which lay about three miles away, they found a large funeral shrine with the
mummified remains of many ancestral dignities. There, too, were large numbers of
baskets filled with pearls, as well as fine pelts. De Soto declined to take any of the
treasures; it would have required practically all their horses to do so. He also wanted to
retain the friendship of these people who had welcomed them so warmly and generously.
To De Soto's concern, the queen's friendship was becoming perhaps too warm as
evidenced by her gestures and the frequent gifts she showered upon him. Rather than
run the risk of a misunderstanding, De Soto told Cofita of his plans to leave as soon as
possible, and get on with the goals of the expedition. The queen's expression hardened,
but she kept her composure and ordered her chiefs to prepare supplies and guides for
the expedition. By messenger, she also instructed the villages in her kingdom to provide
such assistance as the Spaniards might need.
Having given all the necessary commands, the queen turned her back on De Soto and
walked away without another word. When, on the next the next day as the expediton
was assembling, De Soto inquired about Cofita's whereabouts, he was told she had left
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to visit some of the villages within her domain. The expedition traveled northeast through
today's Carolinas then heading west over the Blue Ridge Mountains, and on May 26,
1540, crossed the Little Tennessee near the present Franklin, North Carolina. All along
the way, the Spaniards benefited from their association with Cofita; native tribes
everywhere offered them shelter and food. By now they were in Cherokee Territory, and
all around them they saw evidence of a higher level of civilization. Towns were
surrounded by wooden walls, fields were tilled, and pottery bore marvelously intricate
designs. Different branches of the Cherokees welcomed them as they advanced into
Tennessee. The natives educated the Spaniards in the culinary delights of aboriginal
American cuisine, including catfish, turtle fillet, wild turkey, maize, amaranth and dwarf
palm.
Scouts sent to the north reported finding a range of taller mountains, the Appalachians.
De Soto decided it was time to begin to turn southward with a look to rejoining the ships
somewhere on the Gulf coast. With the assistance of five hundred carriers lent him by
the Cherokees, he explored northern Alabama. Following the banks of the Coosa River,
on July 16, the expedition came to the town of Talladega where a chief by the name of
Cosa ruled over the surrounding area. Again, the Spaniards were welcomed, housed,
and fed this time for a very pleasant two weeks. Chief Cosa would not lend De Soto
carriers, but offered instead to help the Spaniards settle in the area. De Soto explained
that he needed to finish his survey of the region first, but would later return to establish a
settlement. In support of his statements, he left pairs of horses, hogs and poultry with the
chief. Continuing south, the expedition arrived at the last Cherokee village, a town called
Talise (Tallasee) near the Tallapoosa River. Here, De Soto and his men rested in
preparation for the next phase of the journey, which would take them through the territory
of a chief by the name of Tuscaloosa of the Alibamus tribe, reputed to be very much
unlike the friendly Cherokees he had encountered so far.
By September, the expedition was in the area of modern Montgomery following the banks
of the Alabama River. The Spaniards were searching for Tuscaloosa, the Alibamus chief.
They had heard many stories about this chief whose name in Choctaw language meant
"Black Warrior". Soon, scouts reported seeing a party of natives up ahead. De Soto
approached accompanied by Ortiz, the interpreter, and his trumpeters. The natives were
very tall, but two among them were gigantic in proportion; one seemed to be the son of
the other. All of these natives wore eagle feather headdresses, cloaks of bright colors,
deerskin clothing and embroidered moccasins. There was no doubt as to who was their
chief for Tuscaloosa sat in the middle on a wooden throne carved from a tree trunk,
wearing a sort of red turban and a bright cloak of white feathers that reached to the
ground. Drawing on his experience with Atahualpa in Peru, De Soto sought to impress
the chief with a display of horsemanship; he ordered the cavalry to ride forward forming a
circle around the native party. The natives didn't seem to acknowledge the existence of
the Spaniards. When De Soto approached Tuscaloose, the chief asked him to sit beside
him. Tuscaloosa spoke through Ortiz indicating that he and his people welcomed De Soto
and his men, and would offer them housing and food at the next village which, he was
careful to point out, was not their main town. De Soto replied that he and his men had
come to offer their friendship to the chief and his people of whom they had heard so
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many great things during their journey. He then invited the chief to ride with him to the
next town. With some difficulty a horse was found large enough to support the gigantic
chief. Tuscaloosa mounted without a problem, although his legs dangled close to the
ground.
When they arrived at the village, Tuscaloosa showed De Soto the house in which he was
welcome to stay and then went on to his own lodging. After two days rest, the expedition
moved on and, at Tuscaloosa1s invitation, visited the town whose name he bore. It took
three days to reach the town, which was built on the far side of a river that had to be
crossed in rafts. Along the way, two of the Spaniards had disappeared. One of them, a
fellow by the name of Villalobos, was a ne'er do well who was always getting into some
kind of trouble wandering off by himself and setting up his own explorations. De Soto
attempted to inquire from Tuscaloosa as to Villalobo's whereabouts, to which the chief
replied rather testily that he and his warriors were no the white men's keepers. De Soto
drew the conclusion that Villalobos had met an untimely end in one of his wanderings,
and gave orders that the men were to be very much on the alert. Through one of his
lieutenants, De Soto requested assistance in carrying the expedition's supplies; the
request was refused with a statement indicating the chief's men served no one but
himself.
De Soto then showed up accompanied by his lieutenants all dressed in full armor, and
invited Tuscaloosa to accompany them to the next town, which was said to be the largest
in the chief's domain. Tuscaloosa got the message, and assigned four hundred of his
men to help carry supplies. He also volunteered to send messengers to the next town
which was called Mauvilia (Mobile). De Soto presented Tuscaloosa with a red cape and a
pair of boots of a size that no one else could wear but fit the chief. De Soto did not trust
the arrogant Tuscaloosa and decided to send two of his lieutenants ahead to scout the
terrain and report back with their findings. He then set off for Mauvilia with Tuscaloosa
surrounded by a hundred horsemen and another hundred infantrymen. When De Soto
and his party were within one day's ride to Mauvilia, the two scouts returned. Their report
was alarming; the natives were organizing men, weapons and supplies within the town.
The next morning, October 18, 1540, De Soto and his men arrived on the outskirts of the
town, which was surrounded by a palisade. The town itself was composed of log cabins
of all sizes ranging from single family dwellings to large gathering halls. Leaving orders
for the main body of his army to bivouac on a plain outside the town, De Soto entered at
the head of his party and took up residence in the house assigned to him by Tuscaloosa.
Orders were given to all the men not to let down their guard and to keep their arms by
them at all times. The atmosphere was tense with the nervousness of both parties
knowing that they were preparing to wage war against each other, but not knowing when
or what event would trigger the action.
The situation came to a head unexpectedly when De Soto sent Ortiz accompanied by
Baltasar de Gallegos to invite Tuscaloosa to lunch. Ortiz arrived in the middle of what
must have been a war council; one of the chiefs became indignant and berated Ortiz as
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well as all white men. The irate chief's closing statement was that soon all the whites
would be dead. Baltasar de Gallegos unsheathed his sword, a native warrior fired an
arrow, and soon there were natives and Spaniards fighting one another. Sounding the
alarm, De Soto formed the cavalry in battle order. Some of the horses could not be
saddled and, to keep them from being injured by arrows, the Spaniards cut them loose
sending them out of the town. The rest of the army had not arrived yet; unfortunately,
most of the supplies had, but they were (by Tuscaloosa's prearranged orders) stowed out
of reach of the Spaniards in the heart of the town. Also in the heart of the town, and a
source of great concern to De Soto, was a group of his men who had barricaded
themselves in the house assigned to them.
With only a third of his troops available (the rest of the force under Moscoso had not
arrived yet), De Soto organized them on the plain outside the town and launched an
attack. In their hurry to fight against the Spaniards, many natives had left the safety of
the stockade. The cavalry charged and ,amazingly, the native warriors stood their ground
often attempting to grab the Spanish lances and dismount the riders. On occasion, they
succeeded but the military might of Spanish weapons and organization took its toll
leaving many native bodies on the plain. From behind the stockade, the native warriors
fired arrows and, crying defiance, waved the fresh, bleeding scalps of those Spaniards
killed in the encounter. De Soto was eager to rescue the men trapped within the town,
and also wanted to retrieve his supplies which included the two hundred pounds of pearls
given to him by Cofita. He launched a second attack against the natives remaining on the
plain; there were high losses on both sides. During this assault, Don Carlos Enriquez,
related to De Soto by marriage to one of his nieces, led many a charge against the
enemy. In one of these, an arrow penetrated his horse's breastplate; Don Carlos
attempted to dislodge the arrow while bending forward from the saddle thus lowering his
shield, and leaving the back of his neck between the helmet and his armor unprotected.
With uncanny marksmanship, a native warrior shot an arrow right into the unprotected
portion of Don Carlos' neck knocking him from the horse. The wounded cavalier was
taken to the rear where he died shortly after, a loss that was deeply felt by all the
Spaniards who much admired the young man.
Beside himself with anger, De Soto led a furious charge against the enemy dislodging the
natives from the plain. A new battle plan was devised. De Scto had his cavaliers
dismount and lead an infantry attack on foot. Carrying swords and round shields they
advanced to the stockade where infantrymen with axes began to sever the bindings that
held the logs together. Crossbowmen and harquebusiers kept the native archers at bay
with a steady barrage that forced the enemy to take refuge behind the stockade. Finally,
the walls gave way, and the Spaniards entered the town. The small group of Spaniards
barricaded in their quarters consisted of eight soldiers, two priests, two black slaves, and
a native from a different tribe. Left alone during most of the battle, the men came under
siege when their companions attacked the walls. Against incredible odds they held out
even when faced with attackers who chopped their way through the roof to drop in on
them. Fearing for the lives of the trapped Spaniards, De Soto pressed the attack with the
city finally reaching the house half an hour after the siege had started.
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Fighting his way through the besiegers, De Soto rescued the trapped Spaniards. This
feat was made all the more incredible in its flawless execution by the fact that not a single
Spaniard was lost in the operation. The battle became street fighting at its worst with
warriors leaping from rooftops with tomahawks to drag the Spaniards down. De Soto had
some of the cavaliers remount to race through the streets clearing them of opponents.
With the assistance of Nuño Tovar, he personally cleared several pockets of resistance.
By now, the battle had been raging for seven hours and the natives, realizing that the
Spaniards were winning, began burning houses to hamper their progress. By now some
of De Soto's reinforcements had arrived, but there were still another two hundred men on
their way. Hoping to reach them, De Soto ordered his trumpeters to keep sounding the
alarm. Around four o'clock, the reinforcements arrived, a most welcome sight for De Soto
who needed their strength to mount a final attack.
Among the newly arrived was Carlos Enriquez' brother-in-law, Diego de Soto. Informed
of Don Carlos' misfortune, Diego led a furious charge into the midst of the town square
where hundreds of braves and armed women were defending themselves. A well aimed
arrow entered one of his eyes, penetrating deep into his skull; Diego de Soto died not
much later, next to his brother in law. The battle raged on until sunset when the
last of the natives occupied only one street and were finally wiped out. De Soto had been
wounded two hours earlier by an arrow in a thigh; disregarding pain and the loss of blood,
he managed to continue fighting until the battle was over.
Never not even during his days in Central America and Peru, had De Soto fought so hard
a battle against so tough an enemy. Twenty five hundred natives had been killed.
Spanish losses amounted to thirty dead, two hundred and fifty seriously wounded, and
nearly all the men had some wounds. Forty five horses had been killed. The supplies,
including the pearls, had been burned in the conflagration. Tuscaloosa could not be
found. Interrogating the prisoners, it was discovered he had left the battlefield when his
son had been killed by a Spanish lance. The night of the battle, De Soto camped on the
plain outside the town, and posted the necessary guards to avoid being surprised by a
night attack. The army was in such sorry condition that De Soto decided the next day to
move his men into the town, and rebuild the stockade to give them time to recover from
the ordeal and their wounds. Supplies became a problem. The dead horses were cut up
and their meat dried to provide sustenance. Foraging parties found some food in
surrounding villages. De Soto discovered that he was only five days march distance from
that part of the coast where his ships awaited him with supplies. He kept the news to
himself, and gave both the interpreter Ortiz and the ativen who had brought the news
strict orders to remain silent.
In one his nightly rounds of the camp, De Soto had learned that several of the men and
their officers were planning on deserting as soon as they could reach the boats. The men
were disillusioned by the lack of gold and the abundance of hardship. He knew that if his
men were to find about the ships, he would be left with only a small band of loyal
followers, an inadequate force for the task of exploration. On November 18th, 1540, he
gave the order to break camp arid took the army northward away from the sea. Headed
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toward northwestern Alabama, three days later they entered a province called Chicaza,
which also happened to be the name of their chief. At the Black Warrior River they ran
into resistance by natives on the opposite bank. After building several boats, the
Spaniards crossed the river without any opposition.
By the middle of December, they were in Mississippi and reached the village of Chicaza
in Chickasaw territory. The village had been abandoned, but there was plenty of food.
After inspecting the condition of the two hundred houses in the village, De Soto decided
to winter his troops there. De Soto tried repeatedly to establish contact with Chief
Chicaza with no result. After some time, the chief accepted and visited De Soto in the
village. A large, heavyset man, Chicaza arrived with gifts of skins, pelts and cloaks that
were very welcome as many of the men had lost most of their clothing in the battle at
Mobile and were suffering with the advent of cold weather. When the weather warmed up
in March, De Soto asked Chicaza to supply two hundred bearers. The chief did not
receive this request well. Suspecting the natives might attempt some sort of hostility, De
Soto ordered his men to be especially alert, and to sleep with their arms at their sides.
The natives attacked before dawn with much noise and firing fire arrows into the village.
There was some confusion among the Spaniards at first some of whom attempted to flee
but were stung into action by Nuño de Tovar's exhortations. De Soto rallied his men and
soon had them in formation in the field adjacent to the village. This is where the natives
had massed their forces; the Spaniards launched a full fledged assault which broke the
native ranks setting them to flight.
During the combat, De Soto suffered a fall from his mount because his aide had failed to
tighten the cinch properly which allowed the saddle to suddenly slip sideways. The
Spaniards had lost twelve men. Killed in the action was the only woman of the
expedition, valiant Francisca Hinestrosa. Fifty horses were lost, mostly scattered over
the countryside; many were never recovered. De Soto's close friend, Moscoso had been
in charge as camp marshal of insuring that proper measures were taken to avoid
casualties in the event of a surprise attack; had he performed his duties carefully, the
Spanish losses would have been avoided or seriously reduced. It is characteristic of
De Soto's professionalism as a military commander that he did not allow friendship to
cloud his judgment; Moscoso was relieved of his command and Baltasar de Gallegos
appointed in his stead. The expedition moved on to the next village where the men were
allowed to rest for a few days. There, with the aid of a bellows improvised from a
bearskin, the blacksmiths were able to repair some of the military hardware and
equipment damaged during the recent battle. On April 26, 1541, the army moved forward
again traveling across wide plains dotted with little villages.
Several days later, the scouting parties reported finding a fort at a place called Alibamo
on the Talahatchie River near New Albany. The stockade was reinforced by several
barriers inside the outer wall. De Soto organized his men to attack each of the three
entrances to the fort. The defenders, wearing feather headdresses and horns, were
Muskhogee Indians; they began firing arrows at the Spaniards, and some of the warriors
sallied through one of the entrances to the fort with the intention of doing battle on the
open field. The Spaniards put the native warriors to flight, and managed to enter the fort
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on their heels where they fought hand to hand in a general melee. The natives began to
escape towards the river, which they crossed on a rickety bridge. De Soto occupied the
fort while the natives began concentrating on the opposite of the river where they
challenged the Spaniards with cries and war whoops. Rather than let the natives take
the initiative, De Soto crossed the bridge with his cavalry and dispersed them. Eight
Spaniards were killed and twenty five wounded in this engagement. The army rested for
four days at the fort before starting off again.
Next stop was a village called Quizquiz, ruled by an elderly chief who befriended the
Spaniards and provided with much needed food. The men had been on short rations for
some time, and some of them were on the verge of starving. Translating became difficult
as Ortiz understood only a few words of the language of these natives. With the
assistance of several translators from different tribes, De Soto was able to decipher the
old chief's comments. He told the Spaniards that no such men as they had ever been to
this land, and mentioned a mighty river to the north of huge magnitude encouraging De
Soto to journey there and behold this wondrous sight. The expedition stayed in Quizquiz
for six days and, after storing as much food as possible, moved on in search of the great
river.
Four days later, May 8, 1541, from a height called Sunflower Landing, De Soto was
leading the column when he saw the waters of the great river. In the singsong, birdlike
language of the local natives, it was called Father of the Waters, or Mississippi. De Soto
admired the majestic flow nearly two miles wide at this point, and running between high
banks covered with lush vegetation. Sinking to his knees, he gave thanks to his god for
allowing him to make this magnificent discovery. Determined to cross this powerful river,
De Soto ordered the army to camp on the bank, and set up a forge to begin building rafts.
On May 21 the work started. This change of pace turned out to be good therapy for the
tired and war weary men who responded well to the work of construction, and soon
regained their sense of humor and good spirits. The men were excited; there was
something about being a part of so magnificent a discovery, and the majesty of the river
itself seemed satisfy an esthetic need of the soul.
A local chief by the name of Aquixo sent several of his braves to greet De Soto, and
offered to send food. Some time later, Aquixo himself appeared with a flotilla of canoes.
The chief was in a larger canoe with an awning at the rear. Surrounded by some two
hundred braves, and wearing a combination of black and ocher paint and feathered
headdresses, Aquixo remained in his canoe and spoke with De Soto from a distance.
The native braves remained standing sheltering the oarsmen with their shields, and
standing ready with their bows and arrows. The chief expressed friendship but refused to
come ashore when De Soto invited him to do so. Instead, he commanded three rafts
bearing gifts of fish and persimmon cakes be brought forward. The gifts were a ruse to
see if the Spaniards would let down their guard. Seeing the Spanish crossbowmen
standing at the ready, the chief gave the order for the canoes to pull away, but not before
the Spaniards managed to hit four or five braves.
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It took twenty days to build four large rafts capable of transferring men and horses to the
other side of the Mississippi. On June 18, 1541, around two o'clock in the morning, De
Soto gave the order to begin the crossing. In the first wave, De Soto sent twelve
horsemen across the river with the idea that they would be able to establish a foothold in
the event they were challenged by the natives. Two hours after sunrise, all the men,
horses and supplies were on the other side. De Soto then had the rafts disassembled;
nails and all metal parts were removed and kept for future need. Following the west
bank on a northerly path, the expedition arrived at a Kaskaskis native village in the
province of Casqui. The chief and his people welcomed the Spaniards providing them
with shelters made of branches, food, and music and dancing, which included some very
attractive native maidens. (Chances are the women really were attractive, but one must
not forget that these lusty young Spaniards had also been on the road for a long time.)
The chief addressed De Soto saying that he and his people knew the Spaniards were
Children of the Sun and that their weapons were more powerful than theirs, therefore the
Spaniards' god should also be stronger. He asked the Spaniards to address their god,
and ask for the rain that the Kaskaskis people sorely needed for their crops. If the
Spaniards would do this for them, the Kaskaskis would worship their god. Spanish faith
rose to the challenge; De Soto promised the chief his god would provide the rain. As a
start, he had his Genoese boatmaker, Master Francisco, build a large pinewood cross on
a nearby hill. When it was finished, a solemn ceremony was held to bless the cross. As
the beautiful Te Deum was sung by the priests and all the Spaniards, over ten thousand
natives watched the proceedings moved by the obvious devotion of these foreigners. The
chief expressed his satisfaction with the ceremony. The next day, it rained heavily
soaking the fields and blessing the crops with much needed moisture. The Spaniards and
their god stood very high in the esteem of the Kaskaskis after this performance.
De Soto stayed with the Kaskaskis for six days and then took the expedition westward
through the state of Mississippi into Arkansas. The expedition followed the Arkansas
River to the vicinity of Little Rock where the chief of a local tribe provided the Spaniards
with maize. They then headed south and later west passing through an area where salt
could be washed out of the sand, and by distilling the water would render saline crystals.
The men had been without salt for so long that some of them ate it by the handful, and
were ill as a result. The expedition entered the rich lands of the Tula natives who were
mighty hunters, skilled farmers, and renowned for their pottery. The arrival of the
Spaniards triggered a hostile reaction; a battle was fought in which both men and women
took up arms against the invaders. At nightfall, De Soto deemed it prudent to break off
the engagement and rest his troops inside the village, which the Tulas had deserted. All
was quiet for three days, but on the night of the third day the Tulas returned and
launched a furious attack. The battle lasted through the night with the Spaniards barely
able to hold the enemy off, and finally prevailing through sheer bravery and superior
weaponry. At dawn, the Tulas withdrew taking their injured with them. The following day
a Tula peace party arrived bringing presents of skins and offering both friendship and
assistance. The peace was sealed with gifts of food which included large amounts of
pemmican, dried buffalo meat; the Spaniards found this gift tasty and enjoyed it for the
next twenty days.
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Looking for a place to spend the winter, De Soto heard through an interpreter of a land to
the south called Autianque where there was much maize and good hunting. The area
was near a great body of water, not known whether it was a mighty river or the ocean.
De Soto called a council of captains and discussed their options. They decided to head
south where, after the winter, they would build boats to send back to Cuba for
reinforcements and supplies with which to build settlements and continue the exploration
of this great land. Eleven days later, November 21, 1541, they arrived at the village of
Autianque which was deserted; there were more than enough houses to shelter all the
men and there was also plenty of food. De Soto chose a section of the town to lodge his
men and began the building of stockade that encircled this quarter.
The Spaniards received the visit of a local chief, but not that of Autianque, who brought
them gifts of buffalo hides, maize, beans and plums. the chief of Autianque kept his
distance, but sent scouting parties to check up on the Spaniards. To keep his men
occupied during the long winter months, De Soto turned the camp into a beehive of
activity. All weapons were to be repaired and given proper maintenance, stocks of arrows
were to be replenished, and emergency plans were set up and frequently rehearsed to
protect against potential surprise attacks. Simulated attacks were held at unexpected
hours of the night and early morning to check response patterns and readiness. A
firewood detail was given the responsibility of keeping a large enough stock to provide
adequate heating for the men throughout the season. Another group was charged with
the task of providing the camp kitchens with a constant supply of rabbits. The
irrepressible Spaniards also found time to organize parties with guitar entertainment, and
endless card games using homemade cards.
Toward the end of winter, De Soto took a detachment of some fifty cavalry and sixty foot
soldiers to explore a region called Naguatex. They found another deserted village and
camped there. Before long, a deputation of natives appeared bearing gifts of food and
hides. Their chief refused to show up, but later sent five hundred bearers to assist the
Spaniards. De Soto ordered the return to Autianque with the idea of traveling back tc the
great river where they would build the boats that would sail to Cuba.
On their journey they discovered Hot Springs. Not too long after, they noticed that
discovered that one of the most popular men in the expedition was missing. He was
Diego de Guzman, a handsome, dashing Sevillian who had built himself quite a
reputation as a good soldier, delightful conversationalist, capable drinker, and incurable
gambler. De Soto organized a search and found out some days later that Guzman was
alive. He was with the Naguatex natives, whose chief had given him his beautiful
daughter in marriage. His friend and fellow Seviilian, Baltasar Gallegos, sent him a
written message inquiring about his condition and suggesting he return to the expedition.
Guzman replied on a piece of deerskin vellum, saying that he was tired of the exhausting
effort of the expedition. He told his countrymen not to worry about him as he desired to
be left alone now that he was happily married, rested, supplied with plenty of food and
under the protection of the chief. This is what he had always been looking for. What
could be better? As Guzman had also left sizeable gambling debts behind him, and
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would likely be defended by the natives if the Spaniards attempted to bring him back, De
Soto decided to leave him to his chosen fate, and started the detachment back toward
Autianque.
Upon arriving in Autianque, De Soto was made aware of another loss, that of Juan Ortiz,
the faithful interpreter, who had died of starvation. Well-liked by aill, his loss was deeply
felt both in terms of personal grief and of his language skills, which had been of great
service to the expedition. Fate is what it is; had Ortiz remained among the Florida
natives, he might have lived many long years and not known the suffering and
deprivation he endured during his time with the expedition. On the other hand, he
probably derived much comfort and joy from being back among his own who appreciated
and celebrated his uniqueness. His functions as interpreter were taken over by native
who had accompanied the expedition since its pass through Cofita's country.
The expedition headed south through Arkansas entering into Louisiana. The Spaniards
followed the Ouachita River southward with the intent of exploring as much new territory
as possible and of eventually reaching the sea. They came to a large body of water that
may have been Catahoula Lake in the vicinity of today's Alexandria. The territory had
become increasingly difficult to negotiate, so they decided to build rafts and work their
way south across the lake saving themselves some tough hiking. They had now
entered the province of Anilco, and tried unsuccessfully to make contact with the local
chief. Scouting and foraging parties were now frequently ambushed by local natives. De
Soto decided to detach Nuño de Tovar with a contingent of cavalry to pursue some of the
raiders. Hot on the trail of one band of snipers, Tovar and his men came upon the village
of Anilco. Deserted, the village's four hundred houses offered much welcomed shelter for
the almost thirteen hundred men in the expedition among which were some six hundred
natives who had joined them at different points along the way.
After resting for a few days, the expedition pushed on hoping to reach the great
Mississippi River again. On the way, once more it became necessary to build rafts to
cross yet another river, possibly the Little Tensas. The expedition had now entered a
large and rich province called Guachoya. It turned out to be one of the toughest treks of
the entire trip, four days of hard trekking through alligator infested, malarial swamps,
which took their toll on man and beasts alike. Finally reaching the welcome sight of the
great Mississippi, they spotted a large Guachoya village of some three hundred houses,
near the present day Ferriday upriver from Natchez. Built on a height between two small
hills, the town commanded a magnificent view of the broad expanse of the great Father
of the Waters as it winds its way majestically toward the delta and the Gulf of Mexico.
When the villagers spotted the Spaniards coming their way, they immediately took up
arms determined to defend their homestead. As the size of the expedition became
apparent, common sense prevailed, and the natives took to their canoes fleeing
downriver. Setting up camp in the town, De Soto began to organize the construction of
the two boats he hoped to send to Cuba. The date was April 17, 1542.
A delegation of natives sent by chief Guachoya arrived three days later with a message
of peace and friendship. They had heard of the Spaniards' reprisals against their
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traditional enemies the Anilcos, and were willing to provide assistance and supplies. In
proof of their friendly intentions, they brought with them large quantities of fruit and fish,
enough to feed the whole expedition. The next day, Guachoya himself arrived in a large
canoe accompanied by many braves of impressive appearance. The warriors painted
their bodies in several colors and wore feathered tufts, as well as bobcat furs which hung
down their backs; their ankles were adorned by more fur, and they also wore sea shells
on different parts of their attire. Guachoya wore a long deerskin robe painted with
designs of birds and animals. The chief brought out the ceremonial peace pipe and, after
De Soto (who had already learned the ritual with other tribes) had taken four puffs and
blown smoke to each of the four cardinal points, addressed the Spaniards with great
dignity. He told them that his people had thought of fighting them, but had reached the
conclusion that such action would have been foolish given what they knew about the
white man's magic powers.
Wise men were those who knew when to changetheir minds, and that was why he and
his people were there to offer their help to the Spaniards. De Soto responded graciously,
and then queried the chief regarding distance to the sea. the chief knew nothing about
the sea but informed De Soto that a powerful enemy tribe lived downriver, and he would
be willing to supply warriors to join with the Spaniards in an attack. De Soto indicated his
plans were really to build his boats and fulfill his own mission, which he explained to the
chief. He also described his religion to the chief who listened carefully, and then
introduced De Soto to the concept of his own god, the great Manitou who ruled the lands,
the waters and the skies. The Father of the Waters was one of Manitou‘s manifestations,
and those who lived by it, or had seen it, were bound by its mighty spell and could never
escape from it.
De Soto had no idea how prophetic the chief's words would be. Guachoya departed
reiterating both his offer of supplies and of warriors in the event De Soto wished to take
him up on the idea of attacking the powerful Anilco tribe downriver, which was ruled by a
chief whose name was Quigualtam. De Soto sent a native delegation to seek out
Quigualtam, inviting him to visit them. In his invitation, De Soto had described himself
and his men in the manner in which many tribes thus far had labeled them, Children of
the Sun. He did not know that among the Natchez tribes, which included that of
Quigualtam, leaders of the highest aristocracy of this very structured society, were called
Suns. The chief replied with arrogance that he visited no one, but that the Spaniard was
welcome to visit him and would be treated accordingly whether he came in war or peace.
He also stated that he would believe in the white man's magical powers if he would dry
up the great river.
De Soto was angered by the chief‘s arrogance and might have sent a detachment to
inflict punishment upon Quigualtam, except for the fact that he was now in poor health.
For several days he had been suffering from increasing physical weakness that he had
attempted to hide with sheer willpower. Soon the fever overcame his strength of will, and
he took to bed with malaria. Unable to rise, De Soto still insisted on the maintenance of
strict military discipline and routine in the camp. Watches were posted on the stockade
with detachments of crossbowmen constantly on the alert against surprise attacks.
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Cavalry detachments also patrolled the area day and night. This show of preparedness
and strength no doubt contributed to preventing any thoughts of hostility on the part of
Guachoya and his braves. The Anilcos, however, remained on the warpath continuing to
ambush Spaniards whenever possible.
De Soto felt the need for a show of force and a token concession to Guachoya"s
insistent pleas for action against the enemy tribe. He sent Nuño de Tcvar by land with
fifteen horsemen, and Juan de Guzman with a detachment of footsoldiers in Guachoya's
canoes accompanying the chief's warriors to make a raid on one of the Anilco villages.
The Spaniards were instructed by De Soto to act with restraint limiting themselves to a
show of strength. Guachoya's men had no such intentions, they knew nothing of limited
warfare. Attacking in the dark of night, they caught the enemy totally by surprise
completely overrunning the village. The Spaniards took a few prisoners and some
clothing they were in sore need of. Guachoya's braves not only plundered everything in
the village returning with large amounts of booty, but they also violated the graves of the
villagers' ancestors, De Soto was appalled by the excesses of the natives,, but
Guachoya was well pleased and renewed his promises of support and assistance.
The accumulated effects of three years of hard journeying added to the malarial fevers
took their toll on De Soto; what had been an iron constitution began to decline. Despite
his weakened condition, he wanted to find an ideal location to build his boats, which
would require considerable manpower. Mustering such strength as he still had, he led
his men across the river in small boats to explore the Natchez villages. They found them
empty, but everywhere hostile messages from Quiqualtam awaited them. The materials
for the construction of the boats were almost ready and De Soto was eager to get on with
their construction, but on the 14th of May, 1542, the fevers returned and he collapsed.
After three days of fighting high temperatures, De Soto sensed the end might be near.
He asked to be given the sacraments by his cousin Fray Luis de Soto. As the days
passed and the fevers raged, he asked that his last will and testament, which he had
written before starting on this journey (at that time and up through the early part of the
twentieth century, it was customary to prepare a last will and testament before embarking
on a long voyage), be read in the presence of his commanders.
As he went through the details of his will and made careful disposition of his worldly
possessions seeing that all those he loved and respected were properly cared for, tears
ran down the cheeks of the hardened veterans who surrounded his bedside. He asked
that his captains leave alone with Fray Luis while he confessed his sins, and requested
that they return as soon as he had finished to decide on the matter of his successor in the
chain of command. They returned with his secretary and the notary. De Soto asked them
to chose their leader among themselves. They looked at one another and Baltasar de
Gallegos, speaking in the name of all, requested he appoint the new commander; such
an appointment, he said, would be honored by all. De Soto acceded to their wish
and named Luis Moscoso y Alvarado, his lifelong friend and companion, as his
successor entreating those present to treat him as they would himself, and obey
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his commands accordingly. The men took an oath of obedience to the new commander.
He then asked that all of the men of the expedition come to his bedside in small groups
that he might personally take his leave of each of them.
During the next two days he met with each of the men urging them to stay alert and
maintain good military discipline until the expedition had fulfilled its mission. For the next
five days, De Soto struggled against the malarial fevers that wracked his weakened body.
On May 21st, 1542, a year and thirteen days after his discovery of the great Father of the
Waters, Hernando de Soto died in its presence, and that of the great spirit Manitou who
presided over the river and ensured that those who had seen and lived by it never
escaped from its mighty spell.
The natives had been aware of De Soto's illness but not of its severity. Moscoso and the
other commanders wanted to ensure that his remains would rest undisturbed. With great
secrecy and under cover of darkness, they buried him in a hole that had been dug earlier
to procure dirt for one of their many projects. A few prayers were said in the still of the
night, muffled along with the sobs of the small funeral cortege. In the days that followed,
much military preparedness and activity was displayed for the benefit of native
observers to create the impression that De Soto was improving and taking charge of the
expedition's destinies. The Spaniards could hide everything but their sadness; this,
added to the restrictions barring access to De Soto's quarters, heightened the natives'
suspicions. Realizing the inevitability of eventual discovery by the natives and the
possibility of their profaning the burial site, the commanders decided to find a new
location for De Soto's remains.
The choice soon became obvious; the mighty river could provide the best and most
appropriate resting place for the remains of the noble explorer who had discovered it.
Several of the men, under the guise of a fishing trip, took soundings of the river finding a
spot nineteen fathoms deep. Returning to camp, they looked for stones large enough to
provide ballast; unable to find any, they carved out a large space in a section of the trunk
of a mighty oak. In the dead of night, they dug up the body and carefully inserted it inside
the large hole in the section of oak trunk, sealing it in with heavy planks nailed over the
opening. Gently resting the trunk section on the gunwale of the largest boat available,
they quietly rowed out into the middle of the river. There, while Fray Luis softly chanted
the requiescat, they eased the trunk into the rapidly flowing waters watching as it sank
below the surface carrying with it Hernando de Soto's remains, which would now forever
form a part of the great Father of the Waters.
Chief Guachoya showed up two days later to inquire about De Soto's health. Moscoso
informed him that their leader had gone to visit his father the Sun. Guachoya offered to
donate two maidens as sacrifices to accompany him on the journey as was the custom
among his people. Moscoso replied this would not be necessary as the commander
would soon be returning to ensure the welfare of all the people of the region.
Moscoso assembled the captains and sought their council as to what their next
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steps were to be. De Soto's plan of building boats to send back to Cuba for supplies and
reinforcements didn't appeal to them. Landlubbers at heart, they did not like the idea of
facing the perils of the sea after having faced so many on land. A vote was taken and it
was decided they would continue westward overland to New Spain (Mexico). They
traveled to the west encountering many problems and difficulties along the way until they
reached the area near Bryan, Texas, in between Dallas and Houston. The land proved
too inhospitable, and they resolved to return to the Mississippi, to the land of Guachoya
who received them well. There they wintered and built seven boats which they later
sailed down the Mississippi.
During that winter, however, they were faced by an alliance of native enemies under the
leadership of Quigualtam, which forced them to fight many battles. Their losses were
many, among them the valiant Vasconcelos, and Nuño de Tovar. The voyage down the
Mississippi was fraught with hardship and perils; they were often pursued by hostile
natives in canoes, and they could only defend themselves with crossbows and arrows
having long before consumed all their gunpowder. They finally made it down the
Mississippi to the delta and, after a seventeen day odyssey sailing westward following the
Gulf coast, they arrived at Panuco, the northernmost Spanish settlement in New Spain
(Mexico). In December of 1543, word of the expedition's fate and the death of its
commander reached La Habana, Cuba.
Today, in the old part of La Habana, atop the oldest of the four forts that guarded the
city's beautiful harbor, the Castillo de la Real Fuerza, stands a bronze figure called La
Giraldilla de La Habana, the symbol of the city. Some of the elder residents say it is
really Doña Isabel, De Soto's wife, who still looks toward the sea hoping to receive word
of her beloved Hernando.
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Chapter Six
GOLD OF THE INCAS
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Chapter Six
Gold Of The Incas
Peru is a long strip of land on the west coast of South America bordered by the Pacific
Ocean on the west and the Andes mountains on the east. On the way to this land of
stark physical contrasts, one flies south across the Caribbean entering South America
through Colombia, a land of breathtaking beauty with rugged green mountain ranges
divided by mighty winding rivers draining the rains from clouds that shroud these Andean
heights most of the year. Next is Ecuador, equally green but dominated by snowcapped
peaks dotting the dorsal spine of the cordillera.
Arriving over Peru, most of the greeness disappears, and one is struck by the sharp
contrast between the blue Pacific and the drab desert that stretches from the shore to the
base of the rocky slopes of the high Andean mountains. The eastern slopes of these
mountains constitute the watershed that drains to the east running in thousands of
streams and rivers through emerald green jungles to form the great Amazon River. It is
hard to see how the harsh, dry land of the western side of the country could have given
birth to some of the most advanced cultures of South America. Nevertheless it did,
several times in fact, culminating with the Incas whose kingdom covered most of western
South America until the arrival of the Spaniards.
The earliest inhabitants of this land probably came south across the Isthmus of Panama
some eleven millennia ago. Little is known about them; even less would be known were
it not for the incredibly dry conditions that prevail throughout most of the land, which have
preserved some vestiges of their existence and cultures. Around 3750 B.C., a people
flourished who left burial mounds containing cloth of coarse fibers, leather hats decorated
with pieces of shells, and wooden flutes that they played for the enjoyment of their gods.
They lived in houses of stone and adobe with thatched roofs. Their diet consisted mostly
of products of the sea, fish, birds, shellfish and occasional sea lions, as well as wild
vegetables and roots. The desert air has preserved their mummified bodies along with
the remains of the numerous lice that infested their clothes.
Agriculture in the form of lima beans and other plants appeared around 2,800 B.C.
substantially enriching their diet and lifestyle. By 1,500 B.C., villages sustained by
agriculture and fishing had become the basis of social organization. Pottery appeared,
the llama and the alpaca were domesticated, and the arrival of corn (probably from
Central America) greatly increased the food supply. The first major culture appeared
around 1,000 B.C. on the high slopes of the Andes near a place called Chavin de
Huantar. Here, at around 10,000 feet above sea level, the inhabitants left a large stone
building with many rooms spread out over three stories connected by ramps and
stairways. Called El Castillo, it seems to have been a place of worship rather than a
dwelling. In one of its rooms stands a tall statue of stone representing a figure part man,
part jaguar.
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An unexplained coincidence is the appearance of similar figures among the proto-Olmec
populations of Central America at about the same time. This raises questions about
possible communications between these greatly distant peoples; for all the speculation
about this possibility, no conclusive evidence of such contact has been found. The cult of
the jaguar-god spread throughout the villages of the area. Religious rites evolved around
the figures and centers such as Chavin de Huantar were built to house the increasingly
elaborate ceremonies of adoration. Crafts and trades developed and prospered at the
shrine sites. Metalworking also appeared at this time, possibly from Colombia. Gold was
worked into the shapes of spoons, pins, rings, crowns and pendants. In time, the Chavin
cult became a culture and a civilization ranging over a wide territory. Similarities between
Chavin art objects and those of East Asia have generated theories about a possible
Asian source of this culture. Again, the clues do not constitute evidence; not enough is
known to supportthe concept.
Around 500 B.C. the Chavin culture came to an abrupt end; for unknown reasons, its
influence suddenly disappeared. The unity it had brought to the peoples of Peru was
disrupted, and in its wake numerous diverse cultures arose. Unfortunately, none of the
Peruvian cultures, the Inca included, developed a written language so there is no record
(other than the archeological one) of the happenings of the past. Farther to the south in
an arid region called Paracas, there developed a culture whose textiles, found in burial
sites, are still considered among the finest of all times. These magnificent works of woven
art were discovered in a necropolis containing 429 mummies. The mummies were all
seated; they had been wrapped in multiple layers of beautifully woven cloths. Underneath
the outer layers, another wrapping of white cotton followed; one of these measured 13 by
84 feet. Beneath the white shroud, smaller colored cloths and clothing made of vicuña
and alpaca covered the body. Held in by the wraps were food, weapons, ornaments of
gold and pottery.
The quality of Paracas weaving, embroidery and color retention is unequalled by the
cultures that followed. As many as 190 hues in 7 color ranges have been classified by
archeologists. The Paracas culture eventually evolved into that of the Nazcas who lived
about 100 miles to the south. The Nazcas continued to improve some%the Paracas
designs but could not equal the quality of their fine stitching. On the other hand, the
Nazca pottery is a triumph of design and variety. The polished surface of the vessels is
covered with figures and designs painted in as many as eleven colors. The figures, both
natural and fanciful, range from the naturalistic representations of animals to the highly
stylized pictures of demons and gods. Some of these designs were repeated in the
gigantic drawings found in the Nazca plains. So huge are these designs that they passed
unnoticed for centuries by people on the ground until they were finally observed from the
air. The Nazcas left no explanation of the purpose of the drawings. Although some have
speculated that the drawings were designed to be seen from the sky, there is no
evidence that the Nazcas were able to do so.
Some 500 miles to the north, another culture developed in the region of the Moche River.
The Mochicas were warriors but also great artists; the pottery they buried with their dead
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vividly portrays their society and almost everything in it. Molded pottery portraits of
important members of their society are incredibly detailed and lifelike; they show broad
faced people of high cheekbones, dark, pensive eyes, strong, somewhat curved noses
and thick lips with serene but powerful expressions. These are the portraits of men who
moved about their world making decisions affecting many lives; they seem to be weighing
the alternatives and pondering the consequences of their decisions. Not all the molded
pottery is portraits of important people; there are many figures of everyday people in a
variety of activities and conditions. Others represent animals and fanciful figures, some
of them with jaguar fangs, probably a holdover from the Chavin culture.
The painted pottery presents us with an even greater array of scenes from everyday life
spanning from the marketplace to the battlefield. Women kneeling in childbirth, dignitaries
seated on high platforms receiving visitors, and warriors carrying the severed heads of
their defeated foes; hunters and musicians also abound in the painted scenes of Mochica
pottery. Food and medicine also advanced during this civilization. Varieties of potatoes
were cultivated, as were pineapples and other plants. The Mochicas also found a way to
ferment corn and fruit to produce chicha, a sort of high-powered beer. Cocaine was in
use as was coca mixed with lime to release its narcotic. Mochica surgeons regularly
practiced trepanations opening baseball-sized holes in craniums; from the healed bones
of skulls found in burials it is evident that the patients survived the surgery. The
Mochicas wore knee-length tunics over their loincloths, and covered their heads with
conical hats, turbans, and elaborate headdresses with much gold. When the weather
turned cool, they wore long ponchos with colorful geometric designs. They traveled the
rivers, lakes, and ocean in balsa boats, waged war on one another using bladed clubs
and spears that they launched with an atlatl. Pyramids made of stone and adobe brick
were built to honor their gods to whom they brought gifts that included, among many
other things, sea shells of different sizes and varieties.
A large pyramid built of some 130,000,000 sun-dried mud bricks, called the Temple of the
Sun, arose as an expression of Mochica gods and their power. The level of manpower
required for such an effort attests to the influence of the priests of the new religion.
During this same period, navigation of coastal waters in reed built boats became a source
of trade among the various regions and peoples. The western part of Peru is irrigated by
some thirty or more rivers which have generated oases along their path to the Pacific
Ocean. Generations of cultivation of these lands had sapped their vitality. Fertilization
became necessary and the raw material was provided from the guano islands off the
shore. These islands are the homes of thousands of cormorants or Guanays who live off
of the anchovy found in the cold waters of the current of Humboldt which runs parallel to
the west coast of Peru. The droppings of the Guanay, called guano, accumulated over
centuries; the early inhabitants of the Pacific coast recognized guano's value as a good
fertilizer.
About 12 miles south of Lake Titicaca, sometime around 600 A.D., in a place called
Tiahuanaco, a new religion was developing. Its god was a squat, square-looking,
human-like figure with an elaborate headdress highlighted by images of heads. The god
had a peculiarity; he was portrayed with large tears flowing from his blank staring eyes.
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The weeping god's name is not known to us, but his power was immense among the
Tiahuanacans drawing visitors from all over the land to his sanctuary. Why a weeping
god? We don't know. One can only speculate. The life of the Andean natives has
always been hard; they would certainly be entitled to weep for their harsh fate. To this
day, one of the characteristics of Andean native music is its haunting sadness. The
cathartic value of weeping is not a new discovery; it is possible that the attraction of
the weeping god centered around ceremonies in which crying was encouraged to relieve
the faithful of their emotional pain and stress. This could have been tied into a theology
that said the precious rain that watered their crops and enabled them to avoid famine was
nothing less than tears of the god. A temple to house the weeping god and his
ceremonies was built of huge stones, some weighing more than 100 tons impeccably
carved and fitted together.
In time, the new religion became part of an empire that extended south as far as Bolivia
and Chile absorbing many cultures, among them the Nazca. To the north, the empire of
the new cult reached as far as Ecuador. The lively Mochica culture entertained the new
religion but was not absorbed by it. After a while, the Mochicas merely returned to their
old ways. The Tiahuanaco culture lasted one, maybe two centuries until its momentum
and proselytism just petered out. For a while, it was partially replaced by a resurgence of
the vigorous Mochica culture and other regional cultures. Near Chimu, descendants of
the Mochica gave birth to a new culture called Chimor; by A.D. 1370, it had expanded
covering 1,000 kilometers north and south of its point of origin. The Chimu developed
great artistry working with precious metals; they were also renowned for the quality and
talent of their state administrators, a fact that did not escape the attention of the Inca
conquerors who came later.
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THE INCAS
The Incas.
The origin of the Incas is shrouded in legends, many of them conflicting, which give
different versions of the source of the people whose empire at its peak extended its
influence from Colombia in the north all the way to Argentina in the south. According to
one legend, Viracocha, God, created man in his own image someplace near Lake
Titicaca. Sending his creations out to populate the world, he then set out to see how they
were performing their mission. He appeared as an elderly white man with a flowing
beard. On his journey, he taught men the basic arts and skills of civilization. As he was
passing through a place called Cacha, the people mistook him for a beggar and
threw stones at him. Angered, he called down fire from the heavens and wiped them out.
(The region that goes by the name of Cacha today was destroyed in prehistoric times by
a volcanic eruption, proof that you just don't fool around with Viracocha.) Viracocha
continued his journey until he came to the Pacific Ocean; there, he said goodbye to his
people and, promising that he would return someday, walked away on the water.
The Incas also spoke of several dynasties of prehistoric kings going back thousands of
years. Each of these dynasties is divided from the other by some sort of catastrophic
event associated with the sun and signifying the end of a type of men. The first, that of
the Wari-Viracocha-runa, or Men of the God Viracocha, ended with plagues and wars
during which even utensils and tools rebelled against their masters. The second, that of
the Wari-runa, or Holy Men, ended when the sun simply wearied of journeying and
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stopped sending its light for a period of twenty hours. Frightened, the Wari-runa made
great sacrifices to the god who responded with a sun flare that wiped them out. The
third, that of the Purun-runa or Savage Men, ended with a great flood. The fourth, that of
the Auka-runa, or Warriors, ended with no disaster other than the decadence of the men
who became effeminate sodomists. The next sun brought with it the founder of the fifth
dynasty, the Inca, who redeemed the remnants of the earlier dynasty.
Adding to another Inca legend, the Sun looked down upon the earth from his daily
voyage across the skies, and saw that men were hardly any better than the wild beasts.
Taking pity upon them, he sent his own sons and daughters to teach men how to grow
food, build shelters, weave cloth and make clothing. Four brothers and four sisters (who
were also their wives), children of the Sun, and ten families of followers emerged from
caves at Paccari-tambo some eighteen miles southeast of Cuzco. The brothers were
known as Ayar Manco, Ayar Cachi, Ayar Uchu and Ayar Auca; together with their sisterwives, and the ten families or ayllus (clans) they traveled to Cuzco founding many
villages along the way. Ayar Manco, also known as Manco Capac, contrived to rid
himself of his brothers by means of various stratagems, and then became the ruler of the
Incas. His sister-wife, Mama Ocllo, bore him a son, Sinchi Roca, the second Inca ruler.
Like the early Aztecs, Manco Capac and his followers had to fight to gain control of the
land where they desired to settle. As they progressed along the Cuzco valley, they
tested the land by sinking a golden staff to measure its depth. A battle ensued with the
owners of the land during which one of Manco Capac's sisters, Mama Huaco, killed one
of the enemy combatants with a stone, then ripped out his lungs and inflated them. This
act so frightened the poor defenders that they fled leaving the land to the Incas. As so
often happens in these cases, the vanquished inhabitants did not stay vanquished. Over
the following two hundred years, they returned time and again engaging in many battles
with the Incas.
During the second half of the fourteenth century, in the reign of emperor YahuarHuacac,
Inca troops cleared the valley of their enemies. The next emperor, Viracocha, further
extended the Incas' power, but ran into disaster when Cuzco was attacked by the
Chancas, a Quechua-speaking people (like the Incas) who lived to the west. During the
battle, Viracohca was defeated and fled to the mountains with his eldest son,
Urcon. A younger son, Pachacuti, rallied the Inca troops, and defeated the Chancas.
Rather than turn over the throne to his elder brother, Pachacuti assumed the power
himself.
The year was 1438; in Europe, Joan of Arc had died only seven years earlier, Johannes
Gutemberg would not invent his printing press for another two years, and Columbus and
Isabel of Spain would not be born for another thirteen years.
As ninth emperor of the Incas, Pachacuti sent his troops against their enemies
everywhere. Under the able generalship of his brother, Capac Yupanqui, victory followed
victory as the Inca troops first cleaned up pockets of resistance in the areas near Cuzco,
then marched onto the Cajamarca region in the north. From there, they turned south and
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waged war on the Aymara tribes, descendants of the Tiahuanacans, who lived near Lake
Titicaca. Pachacuti set about creating an empire composed of many different peoples
united, initially, by subjection to a benevolent Inca rule and, eventually, by a common
language ,Quechua.
To accomplish his goal, he used diplomacy where possible and violence where
necessary. Inca ambassadors would visit the rulers of lands to be attacked with offers of
peace in exchange for subjection, and threats of terrible punishment in the event of
resistance. Subject peoples would be allowed to retain their leaders and governments as
well as their religions if they accepted Inca guidance. If they chose not to, leaders and
their families would be killed, or taken to Cuzco and placed in dungeons filled with snakes
and wild animals. The message of the ambassadors was usually reinforced by the
presence of well trained Inca soldiers whose warrior fame was well known. If a
subjugated people retained the potential for imminent hostility, the Incas would simply
move the entire population to another location; away from their traditional power base,
most peoples tended to lose their will to resist.
To support the empire's need for easy access to many distant locations, the Incas
improved existing roads everywhere and built new ones where necessary. Local
townspeople were charged with the maintenance and repair of these roads under the
direction of their own leaders. Communications were essential to the maintenance of law
and order, and were facilitated by the establishment of way houses, or Tampus every
four Topos, or eighteen miles, offering comfortable accommodations for government
travelers. Firewood, corn, potatoes and dried meat were supplied by local inhabitants.
Every mile and a half along the way, runners, or Chasquis, were kept in readiness to
carry memorized messages and Quipu. Quipu were knotted cords which could be used
to transmit numerical data; the type of knot, its color and its position on a given string had
special meaning to those who knew how to interpret them. At special locations there
would be a keeper of the records, or Quipu-camayoc, who could read the knotted string
messages.
Chasqui messengers would dash for a mile and a half turning over their messages and
quipus to the next relay of Chasquis, covering in this manner up to 140 miles a day
across terrains including mountain passes over 15,000 feet above sea level. Such speed
of communication was vital to keeping armies in the field and moving them about in
anticipation of potential trouble or revolts. Pachacuti reigned for over thirty years, during
which time he dedicated himself to developing a strong administrative structure, and to
rebuilding and beautifying his captial city of Cuzco. The city was grand and stately, with
magnificent stone buildings. A great central plaza was surrounded by temples and
ceremonial buildings of imposing appearance; some of them were plated with sheets of
gold which shone brightly in the high Andean sun. Here too, were the palace of the Inca,
the homes of the nobles, and the administrative offices of the government where the
keepers of the records interpreted the quipu messages carried by chasquis from the
outskirts of the empire to its heart The empire benefited from the Pax Inca in terms of
stability and bountiful crops stored in the many warehouses built by the government to
ensure protection against famine. The sick and the old as well as orphans were fed from
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these stocks. The educational system was open to all including subject peoples who
could send their children to schools to trained as civil servants and administrators. Those
of a hardier and more adventurous spirit could join the Inca armies and participate in its
many campaigns. The armies were commanded by an elite composed only of members
of the original Inca families. The Inca elite perpetuated their exclusiveness through
marriage and custom. In telling their children of the origins of their ancestors, they would
reinforce their claim to descent from the founders by starting the narration with "As our
Father the Sun told us, ...".
As the Incas systematically conquered region after region, the administrative
mechanisms were put in place to guarantee obedience. Children were taken hostage and
every family in a village received work assignments to contribute to the empire's needs.
The base of the society was the family, and within it the Puric, or laborer was the unit of
the local work force. Marriage was encouraged; males had to marry by age 20, and
begin families to provide laborers for the empire. The marriage ceremony itself was the
essence of simplicity; the young couple merely held hands and exchanged sandals. The
land was owned by the Inca emperor, but was worked by the people. Every year, the
lands loaned by the state to each community would be redistributed; those families with
the most children received the largest plots. If a child died, the alotted land would be
decreased proportionately. Produce was divided into three parts, one for the Inca to
support the royalty, one for the priests and the Virgins of the Sun who lived in the
temples, and one for those who worked the land. The same principle applied to the vast
herds of llamas raised by the common people. If the Puric was the basis of the labor
force, the llama played an equally important role as the basic beast of burden; it was also
a source of wool as were the vicuna and the guanaco.
The Inca economy used no money; gold and silver were appreciated for their artistic
value. The system worked providing enough for all, even in times of crop failure when the
inhabitants of the afflicted region would receive the surplus from others. Crops were
grown in terraces on the slopes of the mountains and in the coastal area to which they
brought irrigation water from distances as far as 79 kilometers away. Among the major
crops there were 20 varieties of corn, 240 varieties of potatoes, and cotton. It is amazing
that the Incas were able to grow crops in such great abundance without the use of a
plow; a digging stick was their principal agricultural tool.
To establish control over the numbers of people within his empire, Pachacuti divided all
of them by age and sex into groups. In each tribe and village, foremen were appointed
who kept records of the population by groups. There was a foreman for ten families who
reported to another above him, and he to another, and so on. Births, deaths, and the
number of women and men in the different age groups were reported regularly to Cuzco.
Every five years, census takers called Tucuyricoc, "he who sees all", would travel about
the land. At each village, they would line up the inhabitants by age and sex groups, and
conduct a physical "headcount". Also tallied were those villagers who had special skills
and talents. The completed census would be passed on to the governor who reported
directly to Pachacuti.
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Pachacuti turned the throne over to his son, Topa Inca Yupanqui, some time around
1471. Topa extended the empire he had inherited by conquering Ecuador, the Chimu
Kingdom, and Chile, where he fought the fierce Araucan natives . His army is said to
have numbered as many as 300,000 men. During the campaign against the Canari
natives of Ecuador, he is said to have fielded nearly 200,000 men. The advance of such
an army must have been a sight to behold; accompanied by flutists, some of whose
instruments were made from the bones of their slain enemies, and drums covered with
the skins of others. Soldiers wore quilted cotton armor, cotton and cane helmets, and
wooden shields, and were armed with axes, spears, wooden maces, slings and bows and
arrows. Generals were carried in litters and the army was accompanied by large
numbers of women, and herds of llamas. The army was so large that at any given time
the vanguard could be advancing across snow covered heights while the rearguard was
still in the steaming jungle. The logistics of such a feat boggle the mind.
From Ecuador, Topa is said to have sailed west about 650 miles and explored the
Galapagos Islands. Topa not only expanded the empire but also extended its benefits
such as education, roads, efficient agriculture, food warehouses, as well as its own civil
service system. After many years of military campaigns, he returned to Cuzco where he
reigned in relative peace. Topa died in 1493, unaware that Columbus had arrived in the
Caribbean the year before, and soon the world and the empire he had labored so hard to
build would never be the same again. Topa was succeeded by Huayna Capac, his son,
a young man of estimable qualities who soon found it necessary to quell rebellion in
Ecuador. in the process, he extended the empire as far north as the Ancasamaya River,
which today constitutes part of the border beween Ecuador and Colombia.
Word of a Kingdom of Gold or a Golden Coast had reached the Spaniards as early as the
beginning of the sixteenth century. While Balboa was with Comagre, cacique of the
Darien area south of Panama near the gulf of Urabá, his men began to quarrel over the
division of some of the gold they had found. As the gold was being weighed on the
balance, the scuffling got out of hand which angered the cacique's son. Turning to the
Spaniards, he knocked the balance over, and chastised them for their lust for gold. He
said that, if that was what they wanted so eagerly, he could show them countries where
their thirst would be satisfied. Balboa interrogated the young man who pointed out that it
would be necessary to first cross the mountains to the great sea (the Pacific) on the other
side. After journeying on this sea, they would come to a land where they would find a
people who ate on plates of gold, and drank from golden goblets. When Balboa in 1513
reached the Pacific, another cacique confirmed the rumors speaking of Kings of Gold,
and people who used a certain kind of animal to bear their burdens. The cacique made a
drawing in the sand of an animal that, to the Spaniards looked like a sheep, the llama.
As the Spaniards questioned more natives, they learned the Coast of Gold began at a
River somewhere to the south at a place called Biru. Biru actually was still
in Panama, south of the Gulf of San Miguel. Biru, which the Spaniards pronounced as
"Peru", became the name of the land of the Kings of Gold. The Incas actually called their
land "the four quarters" or Tahuantin-siyu.
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As the Portuguese began their exploration of the east coast of Brazil, they began to hear
some of the same rumors from local natives. As early as 1508, a Portuguese vessel
returned with stories about a mountain kingdom in the interior where people wore armor
made of gold. Although the local natives of :he coast of Brazil went about naked and
used wooden and bone tools and axes made of stone, one of the Portuguese sailors
discovered a native using a silver ax, and observed several others who owned pieces
made of brass. This region was occupied by the Carios, a tribe belonging to the Guarani
natives of Paraguay. The latter raided and, sometimes traded with the Incas, usually in
search of metal artifacts.
The Incas fortified their frontiers to protect themselves against these raiders; the ruins of
those fortresses can still be observed to this day. Axes and knives of copper and bronze
were much coveted by the Guaranis and their neighbors; so were many of the ornaments
such as breastplates and bracelets of gold and silver. The natives who occupied the land
near the great river in northern Argentina fascinated the Spaniards with their gold and
silver finery. Responding to Spanish questions about the origin of the metal ornaments,
the natives pointed to the west and spoke of a mountain of silver where the people built
houses of stone and owned long-necked deer - llamas. Believing the natives' story that
the river would lead them to the mountain of silver, the explorers named it Rio de La
Plata (River of Silver).
During the reign of Huayna Capac, the Inca empire had its first exposure to a white man
in the person of a strange adventurer by the name of Alejo Garcia. Garcia had been a
member of an expedition under the command of Juan de Solis, chief pilot of Spain. Solis‘
fleet sailed south along the east coast of South America during the years 1515 and 1516,
adventuring as far as the Rio de la Plata where Solis was killed by local natives (and
added to their menu). Garcia's ship had foundered off Santa Catarina in Brazil. The
survivors wandered about the interior of the continent for the next ten years all the way
from Argentina to Peru. After hearing the stories of the Cario natives about the wonders
of the Kingdom of Gold, five of the shipwrecked men from the Spanish ship, under the
leadership of Garcia, who was Portuguese, journeyed to the west with the aim of finding
the mysterious land. Arriving in Paraguay, they joined forces with the Guarani Indians,
fierce, cannibalistic raiders of the outposts of the Inca Empire. Garcia and his
companions participated in a raid in 1523 on an Inca village, and became the first
Europeans to set eyes on the wealth and power of the Inca Empire. Garcia might have
changed the course of history had he survived the return trip to the east; unfortunately,
he was killed by Tupi natives before he could share details of his discoveries with other
Europeans. Nevertheless, some of his companions did reach the coast with part of the
booty, and the story of Garcia's adventure. Garcia's raid was not without its
consequences; an epidemic (probably smallpox) followed, which quickly spread
throughout the empire.
Whether the pestilence was actually carried by Garcia and his companions, or reached
the empire from another source, the fact is that it wreaked havoc among its inhabitants.
Huayna Capac was holding his court in Quito, Ecuador, at the time when rumors reached
him of strange ships with white sails that had journeyed from the north, and were
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exploring the Peruvian coast. An evil omen coincided with the arrival of the rumors.
Huayna Capac received the visit of a stranger who presented him with a black box. The
emperor opened the box, and a swarm of butterflies and moths flew out; the incident was
viewed as a grave portent of evils to come. Not long after, Huayna Capac was stricken
by the strange pestilence and died so quickly that he was unable to appoint a successor.
The logical successor, had Huayna Capac lived long enough to name one, would have
been his son, Huascar, who was in Cuzco and was immediately crowned emperor by the
high priest. By a different wife, Huayna Capac had another son, Atahualpa, who was in
Quito when the emperor died. The army had accompanied Huayna Capac to Quito, and
its leaders, Quisquis and Challcuchima, threw in their lot with Atahualpa giving him the
advantage of well-commanded seasoned troops . A civil war ensued which tore the
empire for five years. The empire that Pachacuti so ably carved out of the confusion and
conflict among the many peoples and tribes who inhabited the tortured landscape of Peru
had not yet reached its first hundred years.
The Spaniards.
The settlement in the Darien area of Panama, now called Castilla del Oro and under the
governorship of the cruel Pedrarias Davila, had been the base for Balboa‘s explorations.
It became apparent to the governor that the Pacific coast of Panama offered a better
climate and location for a permanent colony in 1519 he moved his headquarters to the
location which today is called Old Panama (later destroyed during an English corsair
raid). When word arrived of Cortés‘ successful conquests to the north, explorers
searched to the north of Panama in hopes of finding another Tenochtitlan worthy of
conquest. Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and Honduras were explored before the
Spaniards ran into their countrymen who had advanced to the south from Mexico.
In 1522, Pedrarias approved an expedition to the south under the command of one of the
more distinguished men in the colony, Pascual de Anadagoya. The expedition
sailed as far as the southernmost point reached earlier by Balboa, Puerto de Piñas.
There, Andagoya suffered a severe injury in a fall from his horse while showing
off before the local natives. As a result, the mission was aborted, and returned to
Panama. Little of note had been accomplished, but new information about the Coast of
Gold had been discovered. The stage was set for the appearance of a man of stronger
resolve, Francisco Pizarro.
Francisco Pizarro was born in the same year that Pachacuti turned the empire over to his
son Topa Inca Yupanqui, 1471, in the city of Trujillo in the Spanish province of
Extremadura. Francisco was the illegitimate son of Gonzalo Pizarro, an infantry colone,l
and Francisca Gonzalez, the daughter of a poorer family in Trujillo. The good colonel was
a restless man who fought in the siege of Granada, served with distinction in Italy under
the Great Captain Gonzalo de Cordoba, and also sired eleven children, seven of them
illegitimate. Francisco may have been distantly related to Hernan Cortés whose mother's
family name was also Pizarro. Not much is known of his youth other than the fact that
he seems to have been left pretty much on his own by both parents. He received no
education and supported himself as a swine herder. As soon as he was able to,
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Pizarro
Francisco left home to make his way through the world. He may have served in the
army in Italy before returning to Seville where he cast his lot with the many illusioned
Spaniards who sought adventure and wealth in the New World. It is believed he may
also have served under Columbus at some point.
Pizarro appears in 1510 in Hispaniola where he joined an expedition under Alonzo de
Ojeda to the Gulf of Uraba between Colombia and Panama. The expedition ran into
serious problems, and Ojeda departed leaving Pizarro in charge of the settlement with
one small ship and too many men to leave in it. Pizarro stayed at his command for two
months, presumably waiting for a rescue ship to return to pick him and his men up. At
the end of the two months, so many men had died that the survivors were able to embark
on the small vessel left by Ojeda. Pizarro later returned to the area showing up in the
Darien settlement under the command of Balboa. He was with Balboa during his march
across the Isthmus and the discovery of the Pacific Ocean. He also had the
unfortunate and unhappy responsibility of being in charge of the detachment sent by
Pedrarias to arrest Balboa. After Balboa's death, Pizarro served under Pedrarias in
several expeditions, and fought numerous battles with the natives in Panama.
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By 1521, he was 50 years old, and had little to show for all his campaigns and sufferings
other than old wounds and scars, plus a small strip of impoverished land near the new
capital city of Panama. When Pascual de Andagoya returned from his voyage in 1522,
he brought back substantial information about the Kings of Gold obtained from itinerant
native traders and merchants who had, either traveled to Peru or traded with the Incas.
Pizarro was not particularly enthusiastic about an expedition to the Coast of Gold; the
obstacles to success seemed formidable. Not much was known about the terrain other
than that it was often either physically impassable, or so forbidding as to dissuade even
the most optimistic fortune hunter. Further, Pizarro lacked the economic resources to
fund such an undertaking on his own. It was not unusual at that time, however, for
explorers and fortune hunters to pool their resources by forming a company to finance
and manage expeditions.
That was exactly what happened; Pizarro joined with two others to finance a venture to
explore the lands to the south. One of his partners was Diego de Almagro, a mercenary
and soldier of fortune just as Pizarro and most of the Spaniards in the New World were.
Of an open and tempestuous character, Almagro had made a good name for himself as a
military man; his peers considered him a gallant soldier. The other partner, in some ways
an unusual one, was Hernando de Luque, a cleric whose functions included those of
vicar at Panama, and earlier as schoolmaster at Darien. He was respected in the colony
for his prudence and erudition; he also had access to considerable funds, a key to the
success of any expedition. Pizarro and Almagro contributed their limited funds, which
were used to cover expenses forarmament. The bulk of the funds were supplied by
Hernando de Luque. A fourth, non-contributing but essential,l partner, was Pedrarias
Davila who entered the venture on the strength of his position as governor, the only
person who had the authority to grant a license for the expedition.
It was agreed that, as a seasoned veteran of New World expeditions, Pizarro would make
the best commander. Almagro assumed the responsibility of supplying and equipping the
ships. He lost no time and soon had two vessels, one of which had been built by Balboa
himself. As usual in the colonies, it was not easy to find good men to staff the expedition.
As far as most of the desirable volunteers were concerned, this expedition was headed in
the wrong direction - away from the north where Cortés had found such great wealth and
splendor. Nevertheless, there was no shortage of bankrupt and desperate idlers hanging
around the colony in hopes of participating in a lucky venture.From these disparate
elements, Almagro managed to put together a force of about a hundred men. Pizarro
took command of the expedition and, in mid-November, 1524, departed the port of
Panama in one of the ships. Almagro was to follow in the other smaller ship as soon as it
was completely outfitted.
Although all three partners had spent several years in Panama by this time, they seem to
have ignored the fact that the dry season in this area doesn't usually start until some time
in December or January. The voyage south was plagued by storms and contrary winds
which made sailing difficult. Pizarro anchored off the Isle of Pearls, a relatively short
distance from the port of Panama, and then made for the Gulf of San Miguel, steering
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toward Puerto de Piñas in the province of Biruquete where Andagoya had landed. There,
he entered the river Biru, and sailed upstream for several miles before anchoring. Taking
all available men other than the sailors with him, Pizarro began the exploration of the
area. The Spaniards soon ran into extensive swamps where the men bogged down in
the muddy, stagnant waters surrounded by heavy underbrush and steamy jungle. The
heat was nearly unbearable; the men were wearing their armor and carrying their
equipment. They finally came to a hilly, rocky country that was so broken and irregular
that it shredded their water—softened shoes, and cut their feet until they could hardly
walk.
The swamps and jungles are not a source of abundant food for large contingents of men;
the isolated individual (who is knowledgeable in jungle survival) can find some food and
potable water, but hardly enough to support the heavy exertion of a hard trek. Soon,
hunger added to their problems. Pizarro put up a brave front and reminded the men of
the fortunes to be found and conquered, but it soon became apparent that there was little
hope of finding any wealth in this God-forsaken area. The men returned to the ship and
dropped downriver to the ocean following the coast south. After resupplying with wood
and water a few miles down the coast, the ship headed out to sea and then south again.
For ten days the ship and its occupants were battered by furious storms and, before long,
their food supplies began to dwindle until, for those not afflicted with seasickness, they
were down to two ears of corn per man per day. Unable to tolerate the situation any
longer, they returned to the place where they had taken on wood and water.
Surrounded by mangrove swamps, it wasn't that much more encouraging. To their
credit, the Spaniards tried several times to penetrate the steaming, stinking jungles.
There just wasn't anything there to support human life, no matter how hard the Spaniards
tried to wrest a foothold from the hostile environment, there was only the endless
downpour and the insects and snakes.
Soon, the men began to complain about their misfortune, much of which they blamed on
their commander who they viewed as having lured them there with false promises. They
wanted to return to Panama, but defeated and broken by the pains and efforts, their
return would have meant ruin and ridicule for Pizarro. He decided to embark half the
men on the ship, and send it back for supplies to the Isle of Pearls under the command of
an officer by the name of Montenegro. When the ship left, Pizarro tried to find any sort of
native settlement that would provide food for his men. The jungle was so thick and
impenetrable that dozens of cities could have been hidden there and gone undetected.
As it was, the natives had decided the jungle was too much even for them to live in; there
were no native dwellings in the area. Food was limited to such shellfish as could be
found among the rocks on the shore, bitter palm tree buds, and occasional berries.
Some of these turned out to be poisonous, and those who ate them suffered from terrible
swelling and pain before they died. A few of the men preferred not to risk eating any of
the available foods, and died of starvation.
Pizarro was everywhere trying to rally and help his men through these difficult moments.
He put some of the men to building shelters to protect the ill from the tropical deluges that
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seem to fall daily. He tended to the sick and dying, often sharing his own meager rations
with the neediest. As the days and weeks went by without any word from the ship that
had left for the Isle of Pearls, the men pined away and fell into a deep depression; some
of them just gave up and died. By now, twenty had died. At this point, one of the men
reported having seen what might have been a light in the jungle some distance away.
Pizarro was ready to try anything, and gathered a party of men to explore the area. To
their delight and amazement, they found a native village abandoned by its inhabitants
upon their approach. In it there was a supply of corn and coconuts that seemed a
veritable bounty to the famished Spaniards. Seeing the Spaniards offered them no bodily
harm,
the natives returned inquiring why the foreigners did not grow their own food rather than
take what they had labored so hard to gather. Little did they realize that, as they spoke,
they supplied the answer to their own question in the form of the large but crudely worked
gold jewelry they wore.
Questioned about sources of wealth and gold, the natives told of a rich and powerful ruler
some ten days journey across the mountains to the south, whose kingdom had recently
been subjected by another who was a Child of the Sun. They may have been alluding to
the conquest of Ecuador by Hayna Capac, which had actually happened over thirty years
earlier. Six weeks after his departure, Montenegro returned. He and his men had run
into bad weather, which had delayed both their outgoing and return voyages. They, too,
had suffered deprivation and hunger, but never as terrible as their companions on land
who they found almost unrecognizable from their emaciated and wild looking figures. The
lengths to which these gold hungry Spanish adventurers were willing to go to find the
object of their lust were almost endless. No sooner had the men eaten and recovered
some of their normal vitality and good spirits, than they were eager to continue the search
for treasure. Yes, they had suffered, but why give up now when surely they had paid the
price, and earned the gold fortune that undoubtedly awaited them in the land of the
powerful and wealthy monarchs to the south.
To sea! To sea! To seek the reward for their efforts! Not another minute could they afford
to remain in this godforsaken area when good, shining gold awaited them to the south!
Christening the place of their unhappy sojourn Puerto de Hambre (Port Hunger), Pizarro
embarked all his men and headed south. Uncertain of the accuracy of the natives'
estimate of the distance to the wealthy kingdom to the south, and not knowing where his
destination lay, nor the configuration of the landmass, he did the logical and natural thing;
he hugged the shoreline. They had not gone too far when they came upon an open area
that seemed less wooded than the one they had left. Pizarro disembarked with a small
party of men and, after penetrating a short distance inland, encountered a native village
rich in food and some gold ornaments. Their delight at finding the gold was offset by the
discovery of human body parts roasting on the fire. Fearful that they might have run into
Caribs (who were known cannibals), they returned post haste to their ship.
Back at sea, the weather turned stormy and made the journey frightening as well as
uncomfortable but, having seen the evidence of cannibalism, the Spaniards preferred to
run the risk of drowning rather than being eaten. They came to a mangrove jungle
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where, observing what seemed like paths between the massive root systems of the trees,
they decide to land in force to determine if there were native villages in the area. Their
decision proved correct, and they soon found a large native village surrounded by a
stockade on a high ground; it was empty of inhabitants, but full of food and some gold
jewelry. Feeling reasonably safe and convinced of the intimidating effect of his force
upon the local natives, Pizarro decided this would probably be a good time to send his
ship back to Panama for careening and caulking. Before doing so, however, he divided
his forces into two contingents; one, under the command of Montenegro, was to
reconnoiter the surrounding area while the other remained with Pizarro in the village.
Once again, the Spaniards had underestimated the warlike nature of the local natives.
They had left the village to take their women and children to safety in the hills. Seeing
the foreigners divide their forces, the natives decided to attack them separately. After
Montenegro's party had advanced some distance into the bush, a shower of arrows,
followed by blood chilling war whoops, greeted the Spaniards who were temporarily
thrown into disarray. The arrows, screams and painted figures dashing through the
underbrush created much confusion among the Spaniards initially, but they soon rallied
and counterattacked with crossbows and swords, and chased the natives away. Three
Spaniards were killed and several wounded. Montenegro wasted no time licking his
wounds; realizing that the main body of the expedition could be under attack, he
countermarched as fast as possible hoping to beat the natives back to the village. The
natives knew the shortcuts and beat him there.
The main force soon came under attack with an arrow barrage. Unwilling to wait out the
attack within the village, Pizarro led his troops out into the open and charged the Indians.
The natives retreated, but quickly returned to the attack, focusing their efforts on injuring
Pizarro whom they recognized to be the leader. Despite his armor, Pizarro was wounded
in seven places. The native attack was so fierce that the Spaniards were driven back
towards the village. As he slowly retreated, shield high and slashing with his sword,
Pizarro tripped and fell. A loud cry went up among the natives; they then concentrated
on trying to kill or capture the Spanish leader. But Pizarro sprang to his feet, cut down
two of the nearest attackers, and fought off the rest until his troops could reach him and
rescue him from the dangerous melee. Hesitating at seeing the courageous response of
the Spanish commander and his troops, the natives were then thrown into confusion and
panic by the arrival of Montenegro and his reinforcements.
The field was covered with dead natives; two more Spaniards had been killed, and many
more wounded. The village and its surroundings had lost their charm for the Spaniards.
After a council of war, it was decided they would leave rather than face
continued hostility from the natives. As much as Pizarro might have liked to continue his
journey southward, the fact was that the ship was almost unseaworthy by this time, and
needed to be reconditioned. The wounded also needed tending to; they had to be taken
to a place where they could rest and recover. There really was no other alternative but to
return to Panama, much as Pizarro disliked the idea of facing the governor without being
able to deliver on the high expectations of the expedition. There was, he felt, enough
accomplished and some gold to show for their efforts to warrant the governor's continued
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endorsement of another expedition. Pizarro set sail for Panamaand disembarked at
Chicama to the west of the city. From there he sent his treasurer, Nicolas de Ribera, with
his report and the gold to present the expedition's findings to the governor.
While Pizarro had been in the midst of his adventures, Almagro had kept on working at
outfitting another vessel, and recruiting men to provide support and reinforcements to the
expedition. Following his partner's route south, he stopped at each of the places where
Pizarro and his men had left signs of their passage. In this manner, he arrived at the last
location where Pizarro had met resistance from the local natives. Almagro's reception
was no better; this time, however, the natives did not venture forth from their defenses.
Infuriated by the hostility of the natives, Almagro attacked and took the village by the
sword. It cost him dearly as he sustained a javelin wound in the head, which eventually
caused the loss of one of his eyes. With passionate determination, Almagro continued
his journey south stopping at several places accumulating more gold as he went along.
He eventually came to the San Juan River in what is now Colombia, where he found
several native villages of a higher order than those encountered earlier; houses were
better built and well-cultivated crops grew nearby.
He was much concerned about the fate of Pizarro and his men, fearing they might have
been lost at sea. The likelier option, he felt, was that they would have returned to
Panama for repairs and supplies; conceivably, the two vessels could have passed one
another in the dark of night. Preferring to believe the latter hypothesis, Almagro turned
about and sailed for Panama. Shortly after, the two men were reunited in Chicama
where they totaled up their booty and also reviewed their findings. They felt they now
had enough gold and information to convince the governor of the viability of another
expedition, and the potential wealth to be had from finding the Coast of Gold. Their
success would also enable them to recruit more men for the next journey. It was agreed
that Pizarro would remain at Chicama while Almagro presented their case to the
governor.
Almagro presented himself before the governor with a report of the findings of the
expedition, as well as its losses both in terms of money and human lives. Pedrarias,
never a cheerful man, was in a foul mood; one of his officers had risen in rebellion in
Nicaragua; Pedrarias would now have to mount and lead a long and dangerous
expedition to quell the revolt. The booty brought back by AImagro and Pizarro was paltry
compared to their original expectations. Then there was the matter of the lives lost under
Pizarro's command. The governor was particularly angered by what he deemed as
Pizarro's incompetence and clearly voiced his discontent. As far as the governor was
concerned, the expedition had been a waste of good resources that he might have
otherwise used for his own expedition. The exploration of Peru might have had to wait
for another time, another explorer and another governor, had it not been for the
persuasive skills of the shrewd father Fernando de Luque. He emphasized the value of
the information brought back by Almagro and Pizarro that confirmed the stories about a
wealthy kingdom to the south that could hold the potential of riches such as those found
by Cortés in Mexico.
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The governor was not convinced of the possibility of such a kingdom actually existing,
and much less that it could be found by these two explorers. Nevertheless, he indicated
that he would allow another expedition to take place if two conditions were satisfied.
first, the partners were to buy him out of the venture (to which he had contributed
nothing) for a thousand gold pesos. The second condition was that Almagro be named
co-commander of the expedition. The conditions were met by the partners, but Pizarro
was left with the impression that Almagro had used the situation to increase his authority
over the expedition. This distrust would have grave effects later. Convinced that they
were on the verge of great findings, the partners decided to enter into a contract that
would stipulate their rights and obligations clearly for future reference. Having been
around the New World for some time, they all knew that verbal agreements would not
hold up under the pressures created by the finding of golden treasures. The partners
gave themselves the rights to discover and conquer the countries to the south,
specifically those of the empire of Peru; they would divide the territory equally among
themselves. Luque, because of his contribution of twenty thousand pesos de oro, was
entitled to one third of everything, including lands, gold, jewels, silver, and any rents and
profits generated by the conquered territories.
On March 10, 1526 , in a solemn pact they swore to uphold the tenets of the
agreement and sealed their vows by sharing equal parts of the holy communion wafer
during a mass presided over by the priest Fernando de Luque. The document was
witnessed by three citizens of Panama; one of these signed for Pizarro, and another for
Almagro, neither of whom could read or write. One might ask how a priest, who was not
a conquistador or a merchant, could come up with such large sums of money to finance
the expedition. Actually, Luque was acting as a broker for another person, Licenciado
Gaspar de Espinosa, former mayor of Darien, who was the real investor. Despite the
fact that Luque was only the middle man, he did not go unrewarded when the expedition
finally found gold and other treasures.
Pizarro and Almagro set about buying up such stores as were available in Panama; there
were not too many because they had to be transferred across the Isthmus from the
Atlantic side. Ammunition and some horses were also acquired. The biggest problem
was in signing up recruits; the losses from the earlier expedition discouraged potential
adventurers. Despite the negative publicity, the captains were able to recruit one
hundred and sixty men. The explorers set forth from Panama in two ships commanded by
each of the commanders, and piloted by Bartolome Ruiz, a native of Moguer and an
expert navigator with experience in these waters. The weather was favorable and they
made good time to their destination, the San Juan River, which had been Almagro‘s last
stop on the previous expedition. Sailing up the river, they came upon numerous native
dwellings. Pizarro landed with a small detachment of troops and raided a nearby village.
The effort netted a respectable amount of gold loot and some prisoners. The prisoners
indicated that further into the interior the Spaniards would find open country and larger
villages. In sight of this information, and the booty accumulated in just one raid, Pizarro
and Almagro agreed they needed more men to carry out their mission of conquest. They
decided Almagro should return to Panama with the gold and use it to lure more recruits
for the expedition. While Pizarro and his men would continue to investigate the region
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beyond the San Juan River, Bartolome Ruiz would take the remaining ship and explore
the shoreline to the south in search of information that might help the leaders of the
expedition decide future actions.
Ruiz headed south to the island of Gallo off the shore of modern Colombia. Word of the
Spaniards and their ways had preceded them, reaching as far as this isolated location;
the natives were hostile. Ruiz prudently decided not to waste his efforts and resources
attempting to combat the natives; instead, he again headed south and followed the
shoreline. He arrived at what is now known as San Mateo Bay in northern Ecuador
where he saw signs of higher culture and greater population. As his ship, sails billowing,
glided past the shore, Ruiz could see the natives lining up to watch this strange
spectacle; they seemed neither hostile nor fearful, simply enthralled with this new marvel.
Lacking the resources to support a landing in force, and unwilling to create any negative
impression upon the native population, Ruiz decided to turn about and sail out into the
sea. He came upon a sight that caused him and his men to marvel in turn for there, in
the distance and out of sight of the coast, could be seen a vessel which seemed to be of
considerable size moving along slowly under the power of a large sail. Ruiz knew it was
unlikely there would be any other Spanish vessels in the vicinity and his experience to
date had taught him that the natives didn't use sails.
It wasn‘t until the Spaniards got closer to the vessel that they were able to determine that
it was a large raft made of light, porous logs (balsa wood) tied together and sporting two
masts between which was drawn a large sail of cotton. The raft was equipped with a
movable keel and a crude but effective rudder that kept it on course. On board the raft
were men and women wearing gold and silver ornaments and richly colored and woven
clothing of wool. The raft's cargo included finely crafted gold and silver articles as well as
beautifully embroidered cloth, and other materials which gave evidence of the high level
of craftsmanship and artistic sophistication of these natives. Ruiz' attention was
especially drawn to a couple of balances evidently used by the natives to weigh gold and
silver Through questioning, he discovered that these natives had sailed from the port of
Tumbez in Peru, and that in their country, the fields were filled with herds of the animals
that produced this fine wool. They also told him that gold and silver were used as much
as gold in the construction of their emperor's palaces. Ruiz discounted some of the
information as typical exaggeration and bragging, but even at a reduced yet still credible
level, the stories were sweet music to the ears of the gold hungry Spaniards. He decided
to take a couple of the natives with him to report back to his commander and to teach
them Spanish that they might serve as interpreters upon the return trip.
Ruiz let the raft continue on its voyage unmolested; he in turn, sailed further south
crossing the equator before turning about, and heading back to report to Pizarro.
Ruiz' arrival back at Pizarro's camp was timely because the explorers had suffered
greatly during their journey inland. What had been described to them by the natives as a
pleasant and rolling country landscape, had turned out to be dense rain forest covering a
mountainous terrain that challenged the stamina and survival skills of the entire party.
Men had been lost to boas, alligators, poisonous snakes, and attacks by natives. By the
time they returned to the base camp, the men were completely disheartened and, with
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the exception of Pizarro and a few ambitious diehards, could only think of returning to the
safety and comfort of Panama. The good news of rich treasures to the south brought by
Bartolome Ruiz was soon reinforced by the arrival of Almagro with plentiful supplies and
reinforcements. Almagro's visit to Panama had been similarly successful because a new,
more progressive governor, Don Pedro de los Rios, had recently arrived. The new
governor strongly supported Almagro's expedition and offered him every possible official
support. With the governor, a number of fresh adventurers had arrived from Spain who
were eager to join the expedition in light of the gold brought back, and the tales of even
greater wealth awaiting daring and bold men.
A new spirit prevailed in the camp, and even the tired veterans felt refreshed and ready to
attempt further conquests. Unfortunately, they had missed the chance to sail in favorable
weather and ran into powerful storms that forced them to seek refuge on the island of
Gallo. They stayed there for two weeks repairing the ships and recovering from the
rigors of their trip thus far. From Gallo they sailed south to the area of the Bay of San
Mateo, where they saw for themselves the evidence of higher levels of civilization. They
came to the village of Tacamez where some two thousand houses lined neatly laid out
streets and avenues. The inhabitants wore gold and silver jewelry. They had reached the
outer limits of the Inca Empire, and were beginning to see the first real indications of its
potential wealth. The area, rich in gold, was also renowned for its emerald mines which
produced gems of a quality never before seen by the Spaniards. The natives, however,
had no intention of passively sharing their wealth with the foreigners. Fourteen large war
canoes shot out from the shore and quickly surrounded the ships; despite the potential
threat represented by the evident hostility of the natives, the Spaniards were excited by
the sight of a golden mask on one of the canoes where it was displayed as an emblem.
When pursued, the canoes retreated back to the shore where as many as ten thousand
warriors lined the beaches ready to deal with the invaders.
When Pizarro and his landing party attempted to parley with the natives the situation
became very tense and might have ended in a bloody confrontation in which the
Spaniards were seriously outnumbered. An accident avoided any bloodshed; one of the
Spaniards fell off of his horse as they were retreating toward the shore. The separation of
the man from the horse was an unexpected turn for the startled natives who thought
the two were a single animal that had come apart; baffled, they pulled back and allowed
the Spaniards to leave unharmed. Returning to the ship, Pizarro called a war council.
The odds were too great; even with their weapons superiority, the Spaniards couldn't
hope to prevail over such large numbers of hostile natives. As always, there were some
faint of heart who wanted to give up and go home. This incensed Almagro who reminded
them of the debts they had incurred to finance this expedition. He made it quite clear that
he did not relish the thought of their going home with their tails between their legs to face
ridicule and ruin. The logical path to follow, he said, was to repeat the procedure that had
worked for them before, that is, to leave Pizarro with part of the force on land at a location
where some progress could be made, while he, Almagro, returned to Panama for more
re-enforcements. After all, as he pointed out, they now had definite evidence of the
wealth of the area.
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This was all good and well for Almagro, retorted Pizarrol after all he could flit back and
forth by ship, but it was not as attractive to those who had to suffer the hardships of
fighting the jungle, hostile natives, hunger and deprivation. Stung by Pizarro's remarks,
Almagro offered to lead the land party if Pizarro didn't have the courage to do so. The
heat of the discussion elevated from this point on until the men were ready to draw their
swords . Fortunately, Ruiz, the pilot, and, Ribera, the treasurer, came between the two
men and were able to effect a reconcilliation by reminding them of the folly of such a
struggle. It was agreed that Almagro‘s plan made sense, and they would look for a safe
place for Pizarro‘s land party. Unfortunately, every place they explored seemed to offer
the same possibility of hostile native action. To return north to the brutally demanding
jungles and mangrove swamps would have been just too much to ask of themselves and
their men. That left only one remotely acceptable place in the area, the island of Gallo.
Having decided to establish their base at Gallo, the leaders shared the information with
their men. It was not well received. The men felt that they had put up with enough
hardship. They felt cheated out of the promised gold and riches which had been
replaced with hunger, wounds and death. To spend an unforeseeable additional length
of time on Gallo without adequate supplies was just plain unacceptable. Several of the
men began to write letters to send back with Almagro's ship; in them they told of their
sufferings and how they felt cheated by their commanders who, they said, gave little
thought to the welfare of their men. Aware of the correspondence he would be carrying
and its potential for affecting the outcome of his mission, Almagro confiscated all the
letters. He missed one, the most important one. The men had foreseen such an action
on the part of Almagro; hidden inside a ball of cotton being sent to the governess of
Panama as a sample of the products of the area, was a letter signed by several of them
detailing their complaints and sufferings. Characterizing Pizarro as a butcher and
Almagro as the drover who gathered the sheep for the slaughter, they requested a ship
be sent to free them from their bondage.
The letter reached its intended recipient and the governor was outraged by what he
thought was the heartless exploitation the men by their leaders. All the evidence of
wealth and great potential of the area meant little in his eyes, and he sent two "rescue"
ships under the command of an officer by the name of Tafur to bring back the men. The
situation on the island was almost as bad as the governor had imagined; the natives had
left when the Spaniards arrived, and taken as much of their food with them as possible.
The Europeans were reduced to foraging for coconuts and crabs, while pelted by the
incessant rainstorms of the season. When Tafur arrived with the two ships and the food
and supplies, the joy of the starving men knew no bounds, all of which seemed
to confirm the governor's suspicions. Letters also arrived for Pizarro from Almagro and
Luque encouraging him to stay on the island and hold out until they could send
reinforcements and supplies. If he were to give up and return to Panama, they said, the
fate of the expedition would be sealed. Pizarro was determined to reap the benefits of
his prolonged efforts and suffering; not for him was the easy but unproductive life of the
hangers-on in Panama.
Then there came one of those moments of heroic determination that are marked by
history for their uniqueness; pulling a dagger from his belt, Pizarro drew a line from east
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to west in the sand. Facing south, he told his men that on that side lay suffering, death,
hardship, hunger, nakedness, drenching downpours and despair, on the north side, he
said, lay the easy way to Panama and poverty; on the other, the riches of Peru. He who
was a good Castilian could choose what he liked; as for himself, he chose Peru and, so
saying, crossed the line to the south. The courage (and possible foolhardiness) of the
gesture did not go unrecognized; the daring pilot Ruiz followed Pizarro across the line.
He in turn was followed by Pedro de Candia Griego, and eleven others. With that one
decision, these daring men crossed not only the line drawn in the sand, but that between
anonymity and glory. Their names were:
Hernando Pizarro
Bartolome Ruiz
Pedro Candia (Greek)
Domingo de Soria Luce
Nicolas de Ribera
Alfonso de Molina
Pedro Alcon
Garcia de Jerez
Anton de Carrion
Alonso Briceño
Martin de Paz
Joan de la Torre
Cristoval de Peralta
Whatever their motivation and however insane their decision must seem to most rational
people, these men must be counted among those who have successfully challenged fate
and the odds to achieve their goals. Pizarro may not have had too many options; he had
sacrificed his fortune and whatever good name he might at one time have had in the
colony by embarking upon what to date could have been considered another wild New
World dream of the kind that already had brought ruin and death to many others. The
rest of the men may not have been in such desperate straits as Pizarro; most of them
may have had other options, yet they chose to stay on. It challenges the mind to imagine
their motivation. They were mercenary adventurers who perhaps had little to lose and
were willing to sacrifice whatever might be necessary to rise above their miserable
position in life. They also had somewhat of a Devil-may-care attitude about risks.
Despite their sorry condition, there had to be some satisfaction in making a decision that
most of their companions did not have the courage to make. They might regret their
decision later, but at that moment they stood taller than those companions that chose to
seek the mediocre, safe poverty of Panama.
When Tafur left with the ships and those of their companions who chose to return, the
enormity of their decision and the reality of their miserable and desperate plight must
have sunk in. Captain Tafur was enraged by the recklessness of Pizarro and his
followers; he considered their gesture an act of disobedience to the governor's explicit
orders. Infuriated, he resolved the madmen could stay on the island if they wished, but
he would not contribute to their madness. He refused to leave one of the ships behind,
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and reluctantly left some supplies. The scrawny survivors took stock of their situation.
They were now inferior in number and condition to the natives of the island, thus exposed
to a potential confrontation they miight not be able to win. With this in mind, they built a
raft and sailed to the next island to the north, the island of Gorgona (which later became
the Colombian equivalent of Devil's Island, a prison colony). Gorgona was about seventy
five miles to the north and fifteen miles off the western coast of the continent. Steadily
drenched by rain, the men were never in danger of dying of thirst. As for food, there was
plenty of game on the uninhabited island, and the Spaniards did not want for fowl, hare
and fish. Life, though sustainable, settled into a monotonous and despairing routine
which continued for seven months. Pizarro maintained such discipline as possible by
making sure that morning prayers were said and evening vespers sung, but the
hopelessness of their situation began to take its toll upon the minds and the health of the
men.
When Tafur left with the two ships, the Pilot Ruiz had been allowed to return with him to
recruit more supplies and reinforcements for Pizarro. When the governor learned of
Pizarro's suicidal decision, he was adamant. No rescue would be attempted; let the
madmen suffer the consequences of their decision. In the end, however, the persuasive
influence of Luque and Almagro prevailed. The governor could not afford to let men die
who had served the crown well by their discoveries. The partners were allowed to outfit a
ship, but only with enough men to sail it, and Pizarro must return to Panama in six
months to report on his findings. The arrival of the ship at Gorgona was received with the
joy that only those who have almost given up hope can experience. The men could
hardly believe their eyes: their act of faith had been vindicated. The absence of
reinforcements was disappointing to Pizarro, but, eager to get on with the exploration, he
loaded his men aboard the vessel and headed south, with him were some of the natives
he had taken from the Inca raft, natives of Tumbez. Under their guidance, and with the
able assistance of the pilot, Bartolome Ruiz, the explorers set sail for Tumbez in the heart
of the Inca empire.
As they traveled south, they passed the island of Gallo, site of their earlier sojourn, and
stood out to sea bypassing the hostile jungle coasts that had made their first landings so
painful. Despite light contrary winds, the weather was favorable and they made good
progress in reasonable comfort. As they passed the equator, they sailed closer to the
shore, which changed in character from hostile, rough terrain to sandy beaches dotted
with growing numbers of native villages. Twenty days after leaving Gorgona, they sailed
into the Gulf of Guayaquil, and further south where they began to observe the noble,
snowcapped peaks of volcanoes that follow the crest of the Andes in this area. In time,
the ship arrived at the bay of Tumbez (in what today is the southern part of Ecuador)
where it anchored off the island of Santa Clara.
Going ashore, the Spaniards found it was uninhabited, but evidence in the form of small
gold offerings gave proof of its having been visited from time to time by natives who left
offerings for the gods. The next day they sailed toward the town of Tumbez, which they
could see across the water with its white houses of stone and plaster. Several large
balsas were on their way toward one of the islands in the bay when Pizarro had the ship
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come along side them. Through the interpreters he invited the natives to come aboard.
The interpreters gave the Spaniards good references and spoke of the wonders they
could perform. Pizarro requested the natives return to their city and tell their people of
the Spaniards' good intentions, and also ask them to send refreshments for his men. In
keeping with the handling of such matters, the presence of the Spaniards was duly
reported to the local curaca or superintendent; he decided the visitors must be of a higher
order, and authorized the sending of refreshments and supplies to them.
Visiting Tumbez at the time was an Inca nobleman, one of the Orejones or ―long-ears‖ as
they were described by the Spaniards because of the distortion of their earlobes by the
large and heavy gold ornaments they wore in them. Interested in learning more about
the visitors, the Inca nobleman gave instructions to be taken to the ship in one of the
rafts. His demeanor and the deference accorded to him by the natives of Tumbez, made
it clear to the Spaniards that this was some sort of dignitary and they treated him as such.
Pizarro invited the nobleman aboard, and gave him ai guided tour of the ship explaining
the purposes and uses of its many parts and components. To the Inca's question
regarding the reason for the Spaniards' presence in the area, Pizarro replied that they
came in representation of their King, the greatest ruler on Earth, to proclaim his
sovereignty over these lands and peoples. Pizarro then went on to attempt to explain
their religion and their missionary purpose among the natives. The Inca nodded politely,
but probably reserved his thoughts and comments for his report back to the proper
authorities. The Inca remained on board through dinner, partaking of Spanish food and,
in particular, of their wine which he found much to this taste.
After dinner, Pizarro sent the Inca back ashore with the gift of an iron hatchet which he
had found especially interesting as the Incas had no iron. The following morning, Pizarro
sent two men ashore, Alonso de Molina and a black sailor who had been a slave at one
time. They took with them gifts of pigs and chickens. The arrival of the ship's boat with
these strangely different creatures (both men and animals) never before seen by the
natives caused much excitement and wonderment. Molina's fair skin, beard and hair
drew a lot of attention; he was equally taken by the charms of the native women. The
black was also much the center of attraction as people rubbed his skin to see if the dark
dye could be removed. When a rooster they had brought with them began to crow, the
natives applauded and asked the visitors to translate its statement. Molina was taken to
visit the local curaca who received him in style serving out of vessels of gold and silver.
The Spaniard also saw a temple heavily decorated with gold and silver.
When the men returned to the ship their reports were so glowing that Pizarro, ever the
realist, discounted them as exaggeration. Dissatisfied with what he considered
extravagant tales brought back by the two men, Pizarro resolved to send someone
whose judgment he trusted far more, Pedro Candia, the Greek. Arriving ashore in full
shining armor, sword and carrying an arquebus, Candia made no less an impression than
the previous two visitors. The natives had heard from their companions who had traveled
with the Spaniards about the power and the magic of the firing weapon. They asked
Candia to make it "speak"; he aimed the weapon at a board and fired. The flash, loud
report, bitter smelling smoke, and the destruction of the board left the natives
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awestricken.
After they had recovered, they took him on a tour of the city where he was able to confirm
the impressions conveyed by Molina and his companion. Indeed, the temple was
covered in many places by plates of silver and gold. Next to it was the house of the
Virgins of the Sun where he visited a garden in which he saw gold and silver imitations of
fruit and vegetables. Candia's report when he returned to the ship was received with
jubilation by the Spaniards who felt they had at last reached the land of their dreams for
which they had suffered and sacrificed so much. In the midst of his joy, Pizarro could not
help but lament the fact that he lacked the number of men needed to take advantage of
the situation. Nevertheless, he was satisfied that he now had the necessary information
and proof to gain as much support as he might need to conquer this wonderful land.
Eager to learn more, he said goodbye to the natives of Tumbez promising to return and
headed south. He anchored off the port of Paita in northern Peru. The natives, who by
now had received word of the wondrous strangers, came out in rafts to trade with them.
After a a brief interlude at Paita, the Spaniards headed south again rounding Punta de
Aguja, the point where the west coast of South America turns inward and slants to the
east. The weather turned and the ship was buffeted by heavy winds but, keeping the
peaks of the Andes in sight, the southward course was maintained. The Spaniards
stopped at several locations along the way, being greeted in a friendly manner
everywhere.
By now, the Spaniards were being referred to as "Children of the Sun" because of their
light complexions, shining armor and thunder weapons. Although, after Tumbez, there
had not been such a profusion of gold and silver among the villages visited, repeated
stories were heard of the wealth of the city where the emperor and his court lived.
Because so little gold and silver had been seen and the Spaniards lacked the numbers of
men to take it by force, they gained a reputation among the natives for politeness and
gentleness. Pizarro continued south until he reached the neighborhood of the modern
city of Chimbote, about nine degrees south of the equator. Returning north, Pizarro
stopped off at Tumbez where several members of the expedition expressed a desire to
remain until Pizarro could return. The commander acquiesced with the thought in mind
that the Spaniards would develop a good understanding of the language and customs of
the country by the time he returned; among those remaining was Alonso de Molina who
had been the first to visit the village originally.
Stopping off at Gorgona to pick up the men left there, Pizarro then went on to Panama
where the returning Spaniards were received with excitement and joy. They had been
gone for eighteen months, and many had given them up for dead. The reports of the
wealth of the land to the south vindicated the partners in the eyes of all their peers in the
colony, all except governor Pedro de los Rios. The governor said he felt the trinkets and
"sheep" (llamas) brought back by the expedition did not justify in his mind the number of
lives lost in the effort. He was not willing to risk the resources of his colony to support
another. De los Rios might have perceived the effort required to conquer one
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land to the south as beyond the capabilities of his colony. It is also possible that he
viewed such a mission in the hands of Pizarro and Almagro as a threat to his own best
interest.
The partners were confused and disheartened by the governor's reaction. What to do
now? They had the best evidence and proof ever of the potential of the kingdom of Peru
and still couldn't get government support. They had exhausted their credit and resources
to get this far; now that they were closer than ever before to being able to deliver on their
promises, they couldn't get the backing. From the fertile mind of Father Luque sprang
the answer; if the government in Panama would not support the expedition, perhaps the
government in Spain might! Why not? The Crown was always interested in expandng its
territorial reach, and had backed earlier expeditions on less evidence than the partners
already had. The three agreed that this was the best course of action; the question now
became one of deciding who should represent them. The skills needed for making a
successful appeal to the court were far different from those required to lead an
expedition. Luque's responsibilities would not allow him to leave Panama on such an
endeavor. Almagro was a blusteriing soldier, badly disfigured by the loss of his eye, and
lacking in the subtle graces to present their cause effectively .
That left only Pizarro, who was also a soldier, illiterate and unused to the ways of a more
civilized stage than the jungles of the New World. Despite his shortcomings, it was
decided that Pizarro should go. Father Luque suggested, however, that any negotiating
be left to another person who was also traveling to Spain at the time, a Licenciado Corral
who was experienced in such matters. While there was much to be said for this
approach, Almagro was adamantly opposed to it; he felt no one could better represent
the potential of Peru than someone who had actually been there and seen it with his own
eyes. Almagro had great confidence in Plzarro's presence of mind and his ability to
express himself capably and almost eloquently when the occasion demanded.
Although a military man by career and nature, Pizarro carried himself with dignity and a
certain grace, and was also respected for his prudence. Almagro's intensity carried the
day and the partners set about raising the funds to send Pizarro off to Spain in the style
that his mission demanded. They were able to come up with fifteen hundred pesos de
oro, and in the spring of 1522, Pizarro left Panama in the company of Pedro de Candia.
As part of his entourage, he took with him several of the Peruvian natives brought back
from the most recent expedition as well as a few llamas, several samples of Inca
weaving, and many ornaments of gold and silver.
Pizarro's arrival in Seville was inauspicious; he was tossed in jail! The litigious
conquistadors counted among their numbers a particularly odious character called El
Bachiller Enciso (the Bachelor Enciso), an attorney, whose attempts at exploring Central
America had been disastrous. As was typical of such ventures, many of the men who
joined that early expedition had gone into debt to do so. Pizarro had borrowed from
Enciso who probably had left a standing court order at the port of Seville to immediately
imprison any of the old debtors who returned from the New World. (It is not surprising
that, after some of the experiences resulting from the earlier explorations, attorneys were
banned from the New World because of all the problems they generated.)
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When word of Enciso's action got around there was general indignation. An order was
sent from the Court at Toledo to release Pizarro so that he could proceed to his meeting
with the emperor. Charles the Fifth had been unimpressed with the potential of the New
World until recently when the treasures of Mexico sent by Cortés had arrived. The royal
attention having been sparked by Cortés' efforts, was now favorably redisposed toward
the possibility of yet another treasure. Pizarro in his straightforward but dignified manner
shared his experiences and adventures with the empreror, and his entourage. His simple
yet eloquent description of the hardship and suffering in the terrible mangrove and later in
isolation and starvation on Gorgona Island unsupported by the governor of Panama,
brought tears to the eyes of his listeners (not an easy feat given the somewhat jaded
nature of the audience). His tale of the wealth of the Peruvian empire was strengthened
by the gold and silver ornaments presented to the emperor who was also impressed by
the llama and the fine textiles woven from its wool. The monarch, about to depart for Italy to attend to the business of that part of his empire
he really cared about, gave Pizarro's request a favorable recommendation before the
Council of Indies, which presided over such matters. Despite the emperor's approval, the
bureaucratic process delayed Pizarro's request to the point that he began to run out of
resources, a matter which he brought to the attention of the court. The queen took an
interest in the matter and the terms of capitulation were granted. Issued on July 2, 1529,
the document granted Pizarro the right of discovery and conquest of Peru which
would now be named Nueva Castilla. Pizarro‘s titles would be Governor, Captain
General, Adelantado, and Alguacil Mayor; these were guaranteed for life, as was a salary
of seven hundred and twenty five maravedis. Almagro would be commander of Tumbez
and, in addition to becoming an hidalgo, would receive a salary of three hundred
thousand maravedis. Luque was appointed bishop of Tumbez and protector of the
natives in Peru, and would receive a salary of a thousand ducats. Bartolome Ruiz
received the title of Grand Pilot of the Southern Ocean and a handsome stipend. Pedro
de Candia was appointed commander of artillery. The remaining members of the hardy
group that had stayed with Pizarro on the island, also became hidalgos and caballeros
and would share in the benefits of their conquests - yet to come.
The Crown committed very little and risked even less in the way of funds. Pizarro was
given six months in which to mount an expedition (to which the Crown only contributed
some minor amounts for artillery and military supplies) of approximately two hundred and
fifty men, of which one hundred could be recruited in the colonies. Although the king's
approval gave Pizarro little in the way of funds, the good will it bought guaranteed he
would get a hearing from potential investors everywhere. Despite this, Pizarro
encountered great difficulty in raising funds. Potential investors had become somewhat
jaded with tales of wealth from New World expeditions; more than one had been
bankrupted by dreams of New World wealth that never materialized. Pizarro's expedition
might never have been launched had it not been for financial assistance provided by
Hernan Cortés, a fellow Extremaduran and distantly related to Pizarro through the latter's
mother, who happened to be at the Court at the time. Unable to raise the total number of
men required by the terms of capitulation, Pizarro got wind of an impending visit by
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officers of ;he Council of the Indies whose purpose was to determine the condition of the
ships and audit the fulfillment of the contract's specifications.
Rather than run the risk of having the expedition cancelled, Pizarro seized upon a
desperate maneuver (of the type that seem to have been part of the typical adventurer's
bag of tricks); in January of 1530, he set sail from San Lucar, and headed for the island
of Gomera where the remaining ships and men were to rendezvous with him as soon as
they could be ready. These were under the command of his elder brother, Hernando,
who he had recruited along with three other brothers, Gonzalo and Juan Pizarro, and
Francisco Martin de Alcantara, on his recent trip back to his native town of Trujillo. (Their
father, Gonzalo Pizarro, had sired three legitimate children, Hernando and two daughters,
and seven illegitimate children, which included Francisco, Gonzalo, Juan and Martin, and
three daughters) When the officers of the Council of the Indies arrived, they were told that
Pizarro had gone ahead with the remainder of the expedition. The fact is that there were
only three ships, and one hundred and eighty three men. The officers of the Council of
the Indies were willing to accept Hernando Pizarro's explanation; as soon as they had
left, he sailed for Gomera where he rejoined his brother, Francisco.
The expedition sailed from Gomera and made the crossing uneventfully. First port was
Santa Marta in northern Colombia. To this day, Santa Marta is still a beautiful small
tropical bay with soft sandy beaches lined by palm trees. At that time, hardly touched by
civilization, it had to be almost pristine in its beauty. Nevertheless, the newcomers to the
New World were quickly exposed to the disenchantment of some of the old colonial
hands who met them with tales of the perils of the jungles, snakes, alligators, insects and
hostile natives. The horror stories so impressed the neophytes that several deserted.
Pizarro re-embarked the men and sailed to the port of Nombre de Dios on the Atlantic
side of the Panama Isthmus. Almagro and Luque crossed the mountainous Isthmus to
meet Pizarro there. Although they rejoiced at the success of Pizarro's mission, they
expressed their disappointment that he had walked away with most of the glory and the
honors. Pizarro explained that he had made every effort to negotiate for honors in the
way that they had agreed among them, but had run into the problem that the Crown and
the Council of the Indies, not knowing either Almagro or Luque, had insisted that Pizarro
assume the larger share of the responsibility and accountability. In the end, he told them,
it had come down to either that or nothing at all.
Pizarro tried by every means to assuage Almagro's hurt feelings by telling him, among
other things, that all his powers would also be Almagro's, and that Peru was such a vast
country that there would be more than enough space and fortune for all of them. The
matter might have been smoothed over had it not been for the haughty arrogance of
Pizarro's brother, Hernando, who treated Almagro with obvious contempt. Luque again
served as the peacemaker and led the quarreling conquistadors to an agreement.
Accordingly, Pizarro agreed to petition the emperor for the granting of the title of
Adelantado to Almagro, and the assignment of separate powers of government for him. It
was further agreed that no titles or political power would be granted any of the other
Pizarro brothers until Almagro's needs had been satisfied. The agreement also
stipulated that all spoils would be divided equally among the three founding partners.
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The terms of the agreement worked out, the partners made haste to get the expedition
going. The terms of capitulation stipulated that part of the force would be recruited in
Panama, but the colonists were leery of the hardships associated with expeditions,
especially those led by Pizarro and Almagro. The force totaled one hundred and eighty
men, better equipped than those on earlier expeditions, but far below the number agreed
to in the capitulations. There were twenty seven horses and some, but not much, artillery.
Pizarro also acquired two full-sized vessels and a smaller one. As in the past, Almagro
agreed to stay behind to continue building their supply base and to recruit more men.
Pizarro sailed from Panama in early January of 1531 and set course for Tumbez where
he knew much treasure awaited them. The ships ran into contrary winds and currents;
after thirteen days at sea, they found themselves off of the bay of San Mateo. Pizarro
decided to go ashore with his land troops while the ships followed along the shoreline.
The going was hard, and made even more so by the rainy season; they were forced to
ford and swim the many swollen streams and rivers that crisscrossed the region. It was
every bit as hard and depressing as those who had participated in the earlier expeditions
remembered it. Pizarro was everywhere constantly encouraging his men and exhorting
them to keep going, reassuring them that the golden prizes awaited them at the end of
their hardship. In time, they came to a larger village; the natives fled as soon as the
Spaniards approached leaving behind them food, and a surprisingly large store of gold
and silver objects as well as many emeralds. Pizarro came upon an emerald as large as
a pigeon's egg.
Some of the Spaniards, thinking that the way to determine if the emeralds were real was
to pound them with a hammer on an anvil, destroyed many valuable gems; in their
ignorance, they classified them as glass when they broke, and threw the pieces away. It
is curious that the originator of the theory that true emeralds would not break if hit with a
hammer was a Dominican priest, Fray
Reginaldo de Pedraza; it is even more curious that he chose not to test his own emeralds
in this fashion. Because the emeralds broke when hammered, they were viewed as
worthless glass by many of the soldiers; Fray Reginaldo picked a rather large number of
the broken emeralds, which he later took back to Panama. The men were under strict
orders (penalty of death for disobedience) to bring al the gold and silver they found to
their commander; Pizarro would then automatically deduct the Crown‘s Fifth, and then
distribute the rest among the men. Pizarro sent back twenty thousand castellanos worth
of gold to Panama with the idea that it would serve as a magnet to attract more recruits.
After a few days rest, Pizarro continued the march south. The land changed, and the men
soon found themselves walking across baren sandy wastes where the glare was blinding,
and the heat unbearable for the men in armor and quilted vests. Men and horses
suffered trudging through the moving sands while being buffeted by hot winds. To add
to their misery, a strange epidemic broke out among them; giant warts would appear all
over a man‘s body which, when lanced, would bleed profusely. In some cases, the
bleeding from the lanced sores was so intense that several men bled to death.
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The going was hard, but it would have been worse if, in addition to the fatigue and illness
suffered during the march, the Spaniards had faced armed resistance from the natives.
Their original reputation among the local natives had changed; word had spread of their
ferocity and greed. But, such were the tales of their destructive powers that the natives
avoided rather than confronted them. The lack of support from local natives deprived
them of the food and comforts that might have made their trek less punishing. By now,
fatigue, disease and deprivation, added to the lack of opportunities for spoils, began to
take their toll on the spirits of the men; and they made their disappointment known in the
traditional manner of soldiers everywhere, through grumbling.
It might have turned into despair and open revolt but for the appearance at this time of a
ship sent by Almagro with supplies and reinforcements. The latter consisted of thirty men
under the command of Sebastian de Belalcazar who would later figure largely in the
conquest not only of Peru but also of Colombia. Although many of his men would have
preferred to stay where they were and settle that area, Pizarro wanted to move on and
conquer something more promising, Tumbez, which he considered the door to the land of
the Incas. Despite the lack of enthusiasm among his troops, Pizarro marched them to
the Gulf of Guayaquil facing the island of Puna. There, on the island, he wanted to set up
a base of operations for his conquest of Tumbez. The residents of the island sent a
delegation to meet with Pizarro; they seemed well disposed toward the Spaniards, but his
native interpreters suspected them of treachery. It must be remembered that the
interpreters were Incas who considered the island's inhabitants, former enemies,
untrustworthy. Nevertheless, he decided to accept the hospitality of the Puna natives,
and moved his troops there. They were well received. Pizarro decided he would wait out
the rainy season and its violent storms on the island; he also wanted to allow time for
more reinforcements to arrive.
When the natives of Tumbez discovered that Pizarro was back, but among their
traditional enemies they, too, sent a delegation to meet with him. The delegation was
quite large, possibly because the residents of Tumbez did not want to risk a small party in
the territory of their ancient enemies. None of this was pleasing to the natives of Puna
who despised the Incas, and had begun to tire of the presence of the Spaniards on their
island (a clear case of guests who have overstayed their welcome, if indeed they ever
were). Pizarro's interpreters alerted him to a meeting of the island's chiefs where,
presumably, a conspiracy would be hatched against the Spaniards. This time listened.
He had no proof of a conspiracy; from his point of view, he probably concluded that he
also had no proof that one did not exist. Based on that conclusion, he took the path of
least risk.
He surrounded the meeting place with his troops, took the chiefs prisoner, and turned
them over to their less than kindly disposed neighbors from Tumbez. The Incas did the
logical (for them) thing under the circumstances; they immediately slit the throats of all
the prisoners. The residents reacted quickly, and fell upon he Spanish camp with all their
might and fury. Although vastly superior in numbers, the attackers were no match for the
cool professionalism of the Spanish soldiers who wrought great havoc among the
unsophisticated natives. The outcome was predictable; the natives fled into the jungle.
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Only three or four of the Spaniards were killed in the action, but many were wounded.
Among the injured was Hernando Pizarro who sustained a painful leg wound from a
native spear. The fight wasn‘t over; the natives began a guerilla warfare that kept the
Spaniards on continual and tiring alert.
The situation on the island threatened to settle into a pattern of uneasy dominion by the
Spaniards who were always exposed to surprise attacks from the natives. To Pizarro's
great relief, two ships appeared off the island bearing supplies and reinforcements; they
were commanded by Hernando De Soto. He brought a hundred men and fifty horses. De
Soto had been living in Nicaragua for some time, and was considering returning to Spain.
When word had reached him of Pizarro's efforts in the south, the appeal of being involved
in a major conquest along the lines of that of Mexico was strong. Almagro had sent
Nicolas de Ribera and Bartlome Ruiz, the pilot, to Nicaragua to recruit men willing to join
in their venture. They met with De Soto and, in glowing terms, described the potential of
the lands they had visited. De Soto was tempted, but could not bring himself to leave the
aging Pedrarias, his old commander, who had been ill for some time. Pedrarias died on
March 6, 1531, at the age of ninety-one; for a man who had been exposed to the hazards
and perils of warfare in Europe and the tropics during the late fifteenth and early sixteenth
centuries (he spanned them both), to have lived that long is a feat in itself.
Through Hernan Ponce, De Soto's old comrade in arms, Pizarro proposed that he bring
as many men and horses as he could muster with; he offered De Soto the position of
Lieutenant General, second in command of the expedition. It was in recognition of De
Soto's experience, good judgment, knowledge of native affairs, and his skill as an able
lancer and horseman, that led Pizarro to make the offer. De Soto decided promptly, and,
after selling his properties in Nicaragua, headed for Panama with his two ships, supplies
and recruits. De Soto and his men were received with jubilation. Pizarro warmly
embraced his old friend, and began sharing plans for crossing over to Tumbez to initiate
the conquest of the mainland. Pizarro's men were in sad shape, dispirited and
suffering from the inconveniences of their stay on the island. To make matters worse,
from De Soto's point of view, Pizarro's brother, Hernando, already was second in
command. Tall, overweight and overbearing, Hernando Pizarro had thick, pouting lips, a
bulbous highly colored proboscis, and a reputation for being foul-mouthed and foultempered. De Soto was disappointed by this sorry state of affairs, but managed to hide
his feelings well; his bearing, temperate manner and competence soon made him the
effective second in command.
The landing at Tumbez did not go well. Pizarro and his men crossed from the island of
Puna to Tumbez in ships and rafts; the latter, because of shallow draft, approached the
beaches first while the ships stood off some distance to unload. The first raft to touch
shore was surrounded by the natives, its three occupants taken forcibly, and killed in the
nearby woods. The second raft, bearing some of Pizarro's personal belongings, was also
attacked, but the men defended themselves until their cries were heard by the main
force, which had landed farther down the beach. Although the beach had become
mudflats when the tide pulled out, Pizarro and several of his cavaliers charged across
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the mud. The appearance of the horsemen frightened the attackers who fled into the
woods. Given the warm reception the Spaniards had received on their first trip, the
hostile behavior of the natives was perplexing.
Pizarro gathered his men and advanced cautiously on Tumbez. To his surprise, the city
had been almost completely demolished. Intent on finding out what had happened in his
absence, he sent a detachment of troops to pursue the natives and bring back prisoners.
After a few short combats, several were taken among them the Curaca or chief
spokesman of Tumbez. The Curaca disclaimed any involvement in the attacks on the
Spaniards explaining they had been the actions of a small group of lawless natives. As
for the state of the city, he said it had been overrun during the wars with the natives from
Puna who had destroyed and looted everything. Pizarro chose to appear as if he
believed the Curaca's story, and offered the natives the hospitality of his camp. As
more of the residents began to show up, Pizarro made inquiries about the two men he
had left there on his earlier visit. The answers were confusing; some said the two men
had died in an epidemic, others that they were killed in the war with the Puna natives.
There were some who suggested they were killed because of misbehavior in their
dealings with the native women.
There is another version, probably not known to Pizarro at the time. According to other
sources, during the final years of the Inca Huayna Capac's life he heard of the arrival of
the white strangers or Viracochas and ordered that the two reported to be in Tumbez be
brought to him. The men were brought following the road from the Tumbez river over the
mountains, past the gold mines at Zarumba to Loja, and finally to Tumipampa where
Huayna Capac had established his headquarters; all in all, about a week's journey. What
transpired between the old Inca and the two Viracochas is not known; the
Spaniards had not been there long enough to learn the native language yet. Enough
translation was available to make it possible to exchange some information.
The Inca learned that there were many more Viracochas where these two came from and
that they had fearful, powerful weapons which they brought with them in their large ships.
Huayna Capac allowed the men to return to Tumbez. Their presence in his land, linked
with other signs and portents, made him very uneasy about the future of his country. He
gathered his nobles about him and spoke of prophecies which foretold the destruction of
the empire after the reign of the twelfth Inca (Huayna Capac was the eleventh). He
believed these bearded white strangers could be the instrument of the predicted
destruction and suggested that his followers not resist the will of the gods. Shortly
afterwards, he took ill, eating little, speaking with no one, and finally died.
When Huascar, Huayna Capac's legitimate son, was crowned he, like everyone else,
asked what had killed his father. The Inca couldn't just die naturally, something evil had
to have caused his death. Could the Viracochas have been responsible for the
pestilence that raged through the land, and perhaps took the life of the Inca? Should they
be killed in retribution for the evil they had brought to the land and its leader? Some were
concerned that the strangers might indeed be gods and what might happen if they were
killed.
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The outcome of the discussions is not known, but a few weeks later the strangers were
brought to Cuzco. They were carried on a litter borne by Inca warriors. The two
Viracochas sat rigidly and jerked stiffly as the litter moved forward; on their faces they
wore the terrible grin of death. Both men had been strangled and their skins removed.
Molina had been converted into a drumhead, lifelike in many ways except for the empty
eye sockets and the gaping hole of his open mouth. Gines was placed in the position of a
flute player, hands bent in front of his chest holding an instrument made from his own
shinbone. If the death of the Viracochas had been meant to cure the pestilence and other
ills of the empire, it didn't work. Huascar's real problem was Atahualpa.
Much had happened since Pizarro's last visit which had set the stage for the outcome of
his expedition. In the latter part of Huayna Capac's reign he had conquered the powerful
rival kingdom to the north in Ecuador. The Inca took up residence in that country while his
troops conducted campaigns against outlying tribes and other pockets of resistance.
Huayna Capac took as his concubine the beautiful daughter of the previous ruler of that
country, and had a son by her; the boy's name was Atahualpa. The lively, spunky and
likeable Atahualpa became the Inca's favorite son often eating from the same plate as
his father and traveling with him on campaigns. The boy's personality also made him very
popular with the seasoned veterans who comprised the Inca's most experienced army.
Although the legitimate heir to the throne was Huascar, his son by his lawful wife, and the
next in line was Manco Capac, son by another wife (his cousin), the old man's preference
for Atahualpa led him to a decision which was a complete departure from tradition; he
decreed on his deathbed that Atahualpa should reign over the ancient kingdom of Quito,
separate and independent of his brother's kingdom in Cuzco. Huayna Capac, the
eleventh Lord Inca, died on the last night of the third month, Hatun Pocoy (the year is
less defined, but estimated as sometime between 1525 and 1529).
Within hours of the Inca's death, the priests began the process of turning his body into a
mummy. The thoracic-abdominal cavity was opened and all organs and entrails removed;
the cavity was then filled with scented herbs and finely woven cloths. Once the cavity was
sewn closed, the body was seated with legs folded underneath. A fine muslin white cloth
was then wrapped around the body, followed by a heavy white cloth and then the Inca's
ceremonial robes. A gold mask was put over the Inca's face, and around his neck a
necklace of gold and emeralds was placed. After tying the royal fringe around his head,
his body was placed on a golden litter to be carried on its journey to Cuzco over a
thousand miles distant. The Inca's lances, amulets and his coca bag and stick were also
placed on the litter for the trip. His heart, physically and emotionally, was left in Quito.
When the news reached Huascar that his father had died, the prince, then thirty five
years old, went into mourning by fasting for three days without food and water. At the end
of this period, the priests brought him the royal fringe. The Inca council of advisors had
the option of not choosing the eldest son; their task was to designate the best suited
successor. They chose Huascar, and he was crowned in the great square in front of the
Sun Temple in Cuzco, surrounded by the nobles and the people of the city. The nobles
came forward, removing their ceremonial tunics, sandals, gold necklaces and ear spools;
they humbled themselves by carrying a bag of maize on their backs and bowing low
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before the new ruler. All the greats of the empire were there, all except Atauhualpa who
had refused to come.
Atahualpa, by now twenty five years old, was a proud, powerfully built and swaggering
man tested in combat, and well liked by his father's generals who saw him as one of their
own. Like them, he carried the scars of combat and had even lost part of one ear in
battle (to which he was quite sensitive). Huascar sent ambassadors to Atahualpa asking
to come to Cuzco to take an oath of fealty; for several years Atahualpa ignored his
brother's request. Tired of waiting for Atahualpa, Huascar sent an army under General
Atox to bring him back. Atox in Quechua, the Imca language, means Fox, a name well
given to this general who managed to sneak a strike force into Quito undetected. Before
Atahualpa knew what was happening, Atox had him tied up and imprisoned in the
Tumipampa fortress.
Chasqui runners were sent to Cuzco with the good news; by the time they got there,
Atahualpa had escaped. Atahualpa's fury at having been captured and imprisoned knew
no bounds. Within hours he had summoned his army and his three leading generals,
Ruminahui, Quisquis and Calicuchima, his maternal uncle. Atahualpa marched south
with his army and met Atox' full army some sixty miles south of Quito in a place called
Ambato (site of one the twentieth century's most violent earthquakes). The battle that
followed was fought in the shadow of the snow-capped volcano Chimborazo with a
slaughter on a scale never before witnessed in the empire. The Peruvian army was
destroyed and Atox captured; Atahualpa forbade the burial of the Peruvian dead and the
field remained covered with bones for years. Not one to let the enemy recover from a
loss, Atahualpa quickly leveraged his victory by marching against the city of Tumipampa
where the population had sided with his brother. The city was taken, its buildings razed,
and the population mercilessly put to the sword. The example of Tumipampa was not
wasted on other cities along the way to Cuzco many of which opened their doors to the
conquering Atahualpa, and were spared devastation and death.
Resuming his march south, Atahualpa arrived at the city of Cajamarca where he
established his headquarters for the battle that was shaping up and would take place
near Cocha-Huaylas. The armies met on the broad plain near a large lake, Atahualpa's
men shouting their leaders name as they advanced towards the troops of Huascar. As
the spear carrying ranks of the troops approached one another, bodies of slingers behind
them launched their missiles which began to take their toll as those who had been unable
to cover themselves with their shields began to fall. A general melee ensued in which
men stabbed at one another with spears and swung their star-shaped clubs. Bodies
began to litter the plain and, in the midst of such confusion, it was difficult to tell who was
winning until General Quisquis gave an order and a hidden body of troops descended
from a nearby height to attack the rear of the Peruvian army. The battle was soon over,
with those Peruvians who had not fallen fleeing from the field. Battle after battle went
against Huascar as the war dragged on for months until early 1532, when the armies of
Atahualpa began their advance on Cuzco, and arrived on the banks of the Apurimac
River opposite the Inca capital.
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On the other side, Huascar's army made up of conscripts hastily recruited all over the
empire awaited. Four rope bridges, each some distance from the other, spanned the
river; the question from Huascar's point of view was which would be the main avenue of
attack for Atahualpa's forces under the command of General Quisquis? Huascar
organized his defenses around the premise that Quisquis would take the nearest bridge
to Cuzco, the Huaca-chaca, a great swinging bridge. The prudent Quisquis opted for a
longer but safer route across one of the other bridges. The armies met in the plain of
Quipaypan just outside the Inca capital, and the battle raged from dawn to dusk.
Although both sides fought with unparalleled savagery, in the end the disciplined
veterans of Atahualpa's army proved too much for the inexperienced levies of Huascar
and the Peruvian army fled in disarray. Huascar attempted to escape with a personal
bodyguard of a thousand men, but was surrounded by the conquering forces which
practically exterminated his protectors and took him captive.
Atahualpa had given instructions that Huascar was to be treated with respect, and
imprisoned in the fortress at Jauja. He had also directed Quisquis on the disposition of
the royal Inca families and nobles. Quisquis entered Cuzco, and then proceeded to
systematically eliminate all potential threats to Atahualpa's power; thousands of men,
women and children were Killed . In addition to the many half brothers and cousins of
Atahualpa, all the women of the royal family were the targets of the massacre. The road
to Cuzco was lined with bodies hanging from poles. The civil war was over, and the
whole nation heaved a sigh of relief. During the time there had been two Incas, the
people were confused and much troubled; for the first time as far back as anyone could
remember, they had not known who to obey, and loyalties tore at the fabric of the nation
as families were divided along opposing lines. At Cajamarca where he had established
his headquarters, Atahualpa received the news of the victory from a Chasqui-runner.
Shortly after,another Chasqui runner arrived from the north with news of a different sort;
the Viracochas had returned, this time with three ships.
Back in Tumbez, the news of the disappearance and probable death of Molina and
Gines had a depressing effect upon the Spaniards. This, added to the desolate condition
of the city, led many of the newer men to doubt there had ever been such wealth as
Pizarro had claimed. Pizarro decided not to stay in Tumbez any longer; inaction was not
healthy for his troops and could only lead to trouble. He needed to establish a safe base
of operations, but could not do so without more information about the country and its
circumstances. He set out with the main body of his force along the level lands
paralleling the seashore. A detachment under the command of Hernando de Soto was
sent along the skirts of the mountain range. Conscious of the small numbers of his party
in the midst of thousands of natives, Pizarro gave strict orders to his men that no acts of
violence or abuse of the native population would be tolerated, and established severe
penalties for transgressors.
The policy paid off; as the Spaniards advanced from town to town, their good behavior
redeemed their reputation and they were well received everywhere. After about a month
of reconnoitering, Pizarro determined that the best place to establish his base of
operations was in a valley some ninety miles south of Tumbez. He set about building a
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town, cutting lumber form the adjacent woods and dragging stones from a nearby quarry.
The key buildings soon rose; fortress, church, hall of justice, and a warehouse. All the
political structures were also put in place; alcaldes (mayors), regidores (law enforcers)
and other civil functionaries. In typical Spanish fashion, each member of the expedition
was allotted a certain number of natives to help with the work, which was beyond the
means and the desires of the Spaniards. The town was christened San Miguel, in honor
of the saint the Spaniards believed assisted them during the battle with the Puna Indians.
From the moment the Spaniards arrived in Tumbez, Atahualpa had received daily
reports on their activities. He knew that there one hundred and sixty seven of the white
strangers who wore metal armor and metal helmets. He was informed of the fierce
beasts they rode, which numbered as many as sixty seven. He had been told that there
were three Liyapta, or Thunderbolts, which made a loud rumbling noise with smoke and
flame and destroyed objects at a distance. Another report described the twenty
crossbows as capable of firing small but po