Roger the Bold: A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico

"He says that you are a god, and that after this he will obey your wishes," said the noble. "He speaks the words which I also think. Surely you are a god, a different man from these others who have come here to hunt us for our gold, and to take us into captivity."

"Tell him that I thank him, and am glad that he is prepared to be friendly," said Roger, simply, motioning them to be seated, while he threw himself on a lounge on which the priest on duty was wont to rest. "Say, however, that I am no god; that there is but one God, the ruler of the whole earth."

The noble nodded and repeated the words, at which the priest looked pleased. Then they chatted together for a little while.

"It is as we thought," said the noble at length. "This Malinché has come to us with a new religion, and holds these gods of ours in scorn. He would do with them as he has done with those of another race close to the sea coast, and would force us to adopt his religion, even at the point of his lances. But we wait conviction, and we also have something of this religion; for listen, Roger." He pronounced the word in a strange accent, and looked our hero earnestly in the eyes. "We also know that there is one God, who cares for all, whoever they may be, but we also believe that there are others under Him. We worship them, and offer sacrifices to them because we can see their images. The idols are before us, while this other God is invisible. We do honour to Him through these images which we have put on the towers, and we also pay respect to the sun. Let these Spaniards prove that this is wrong, and we will listen to their arguments. But we will not be forced into a belief which we do not really feel. Let them show that these sacrifices are wrong."

"They are detestable!" said Roger, with decision, facing the two. "They are undoubtedly cruel and wrong, and some of you will live to believe that. But I cannot talk of these matters. I say that I am not a god, and that I am not a Spaniard. I came to these parts with comrades, at the bidding of a mighty king, and I hoped to obtain wealth. Yes, I admit that we hoped to gain gold and jewels, but not by force, except from the Spaniards. They opposed us from the first, and fought us. For that we are right, if we attack them in return. As for the land, it should be a fine thing for Mexico if Englishmen governed it."

"Perhaps it will come to that, Roger, but we will speak of yourself, though in spite of your words we believe that you are some powerful lord, a noble in your own land, if not a god, who has come to aid us at this critical time. When the morning comes we will speak to the people and to our king. We ask whether you will trust us to descend and meet our comrades?"

"You can go," said Roger, promptly, for they had already proved their intention to be faithful. "I will trust you, and will look for your return. I captured you so that you might remain in my hands as hostages."

"And we will return to you for that reason, my lord. We will set out when the sun has risen, and will come to you again before the day falls. And we will send food and water to you, and clothes to replace your own. Yes, it would be better that you should don our dress," he added, "for then there will be nothing to remind us of these hated enemies. Ah, you wonder why I speak the tongue, and I will tell you. Perhaps I have done my nation a service by doing so, however."

"It has proved my salvation," answered Roger, warmly. "But how did you learn? Tell me when you first met these Spaniards, and what has happened."

"Wait till the dawn comes, my lord," answered the noble; "then I will speak. You have need of sleep, and will do well to take it. To-morrow, if my words are received, you will go to the king, and he will show you honour. Then the people will shout and follow you to your quarters. Have no fear. You can sleep as if you were surrounded by friends."

Roger thanked him, and rose to rejoin Tamba. He found the latter softly patrolling the terrace, and listened to his report.

"Not a man to be seen except on the towers, where priests have replenished the fires. The city is quiet, and no one else is stirring."

"Then we will take turns to sleep," said Roger. "I am tired with the fight, and will lie down now. Wake me in two hours, and I will relieve you. After that it will be morning, and let us hope that it will dawn brightly for us."

He paced round the terrace, and then, satisfied that all was quiet, stretched himself on the tiles. He was an old campaigner now, for even a matter of three months roughing it makes a man accept hardships as trifles. Roger had slept in many strange places since he sailed from England, and a bed beneath the trees of the forest, or on the deck of the brigantine, or on these hard tiles, came as welcome to him as would a feather mattress at home. It was therefore only a few minutes before his heavy breathing told that he was asleep. Nor did he move till Tamba came to his side and shook him.

"The dawn is breaking clear and bright, my lord," he said. "It is time to rise and take a meal."

"But I meant to watch. I said that I would relieve you," exclaimed our hero, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "You were tired too. Why did you not rouse me earlier?"

"You had done all the fighting and were worn out, master," was the simple answer. "I am used to watching throughout the night, and the loss of sleep is nothing to me. You require your strength, and it is better that you should rest, better for yourself, for you are stronger to fight, and better also for me, because then you are able to protect me."

The argument silenced Roger, though he did not forget. But it was only another method by which the native showed his devotion. He was a faithful fellow, who lived to serve this humble crossbow youth, and he seemed to anticipate every want. Indeed, when Roger had risen from the tiles he found a meal of bananas and a bowl of water beside him, and in spite of the food he had taken during the night, fell upon it hungrily. Then he went to the edge of the terrace and stared out at the city of Mexico, tracing its boundaries and marking the viaducts which led to its heart, and the aqueducts which brought clear water to the townspeople, for the lake about the walls was salt and unfit for drinking purposes. We will leave him there for a little while, for this city was sufficiently beautiful in these days to attract the eye by the hour together. Indeed, it was a second Venice, rivalling that magnificent city by the water, and justly laying claim to being the finest and the most beautiful city the world could produce. Nor has a better ever been built since old Mexico disappeared.

Let us now return to the coast for a little while and see what fortune had befallen Fernando Cortes after he had sailed from Tabasco, bringing with him the native woman, Marina, for that was the name given to this slave when she was baptized by the Spaniards. The reader will remember that Cortes disembarked at a port to which he gave the name of St. Juan de Ulua, and that there he met with a friendly reception from the natives, and also received envoys from the great king Montezuma, ruler of the wide provinces over which the Mexicans held sway. He will recollect also that this king sent rich gifts, while forbidding the strangers to come nearer to his city, and that, for his own reasons, Cortes defied the order, and determined to go; for to have retired to Cuba would have meant his ruin, he already having disobeyed orders. Now he showed the firm material of which he was made, and also displayed no small amount of astuteness. For it happened that tales began to filter into the Spanish camp, telling of the huge armies of the Mexicans, and of their ferocity in warfare. These had their effect in time, and it is not to be wondered at that some of the soldiers under Cortes began to have fears. Not all had his reasons for not turning back. They could come again, and no punishment or disgrace awaited them in Cuba. And at length the camp became broken into two factions, one of which went with their leader, while the other clamoured for retreat.

Had Cortes declined to listen to these men it is possible that he would have made many enemies, and that more would have urged the retreat. But he shewed his astuteness by hearing what they had to say and agreeing to go if they so wished. He even prepared for the embarkation, while he secretly set his own faction to work to point out the gold and wealth to be obtained, and to hold before the soldiers the honours they would win. The plot proved successful, so that at length the malcontents approached him again and urged him to remain. It is needless to tell how he demurred as if he himself wished to leave, and how at length the crafty leader consented to march on, providing his actions were duly set down on paper for the information of those at home. He declared the conditions of the expedition altered, and had a new set of rules drawn up. Then, having shifted his base a little higher up the coast to a port to which was given the name of Vera Cruz, he stripped the ships of their canvas and cordage and of all that they possessed in the way of guns and stores, and had them destroyed. He burnt his boats behind him, made escape impossible, and left death or victory alone to stare his men in the face. Never was there a more reckless or a more astute action, reckless because of his paucity of numbers and the overwhelming armies of the enemy, and astute because there was now no turning back, there was no retreating; the only course was a forward one, in the direction of Mexico.

And now to tell briefly how it happened that circumstances played into the hands of the adventurer, Fernando Cortes. It has already been told how the Mexicans were accustomed to battle with their neighbours with the sole object of obtaining prisoners who would serve as a sacrifice to their hideous deities, and how these fierce fighters entered the struggle with the intention of killing as few as possible and of capturing many. Their opponents very naturally did all that was possible to slay the Mexicans and escape. They themselves were not so addicted to the human sacrifice as were the men of Mexico, and the fate of the prisoners naturally made them fight with ferocity. But Mexico was strong. She had for very many years had a triple alliance, and her two allies were the Tezcucans and the small kingdom of Tlacopan, all at that time situated in the valley in which the lakes lay. When first this alliance was formed none of the three states was at all strong, and there was another race which dominated them. But the three together, once they had settled their differences and made friends, became a very powerful force, so much so they soon conquered this other race, and subjected it entirely. That done, they went to war with all the other states in the valley – for this fertile spot was thickly populated – and subjected their enemies, when they began to go farther afield, so much so that Mexico claimed a kingdom stretching from Atlantic to Pacific. Her numerous vassal states paid her tribute in specie and in slaves, and human toll was taken of all to satisfy their morbid craving for sacrificing.

It was at this juncture, when the taxes imposed were becoming too burdensome, when the same melancholy was beginning to settle down upon these remoter states, that Fernando Cortes and his ridiculously small force arrived, and making friends with the Cempoalans, a coast tribe of large proportions, advised them to refuse their usual tribute. He set them an example by seizing Montezuma's collectors. That done he determined to check the abominable practice of human sacrifice, which the Cempoalans indulged in to a minor degree. He raided their temples and destroyed their divinities, and when they would have rushed to arms and attacked him, he seized their cacique and the chiefs, and threatened to kill them if there was trouble. That pacified them, for the Cempoalans were beginning to feel as much respect for this strong man who had so unexpectedly come amongst them as they had felt for centuries for their gods. They fell in with his wishes, whitewashed their temples, removed all trace of sacrifice, and set up crosses. Then their own priests took charge of the new temples. Finally, he received the nation of Cempoalans as vassals to the king of Spain, a king whose orders, given through his governor of Cuba, he himself had directly disregarded.

He was now in possession of allies, and set off for Mexico. His first march was to Tlascala, where he met with much opposition, and at one time had some hundred and fifty thousand adversaries confronting him. But his horses and the superior armour of his men, together with the supernatural power with which he and all from Spain were now accredited, aided him in defeating them, and in a little while he induced these people to become his allies.

His next march was to Cholula, far down in the valley, where he learned, by the help of Marina, that there was a plot afoot whereby twenty thousand Mexicans were to fall upon his troops in the streets. Cortes took means to punish the people summarily, and no sooner had he made his preparations, than he and his men attacked the Cholulans, and massacred very many. It was a cruel and a severe lesson, and it helped to bring home to all the valley the fact that a troublesome time was come, and that the strangers were likely to prove strong. Indeed, Fernando Cortes behaved as if he had an army of many thousands, and as if he were aware that none could stay his march. His astuteness had gained for him huge numbers of allies, but these were still insufficient to quell the nation of Mexicans, who would be joined by their allies. However, the Spaniard did not falter. He had declared that he would march to Mexico, and see this Montezuma and his riches, and march he did, right to the city, passing through many towns of larger dimensions than any to be seen in Spain, and seeing buildings and streets, the like of which he and his men had never even imagined. Then, too, on every side there were signs of industry going hand-in-hand with this hideous sacrifice of human beings. Every foot of earth was carefully tilled, houses were well and securely built, and the tribes were governed in the most orderly manner. They had their priests, their judges, and their officers of the crown. Then, too, they had their historians, for though the Mexicans knew no alphabet, they put down their meaning by signs and pictures, and there was a college for the training of picture writers, an art now entirely lost. In fact, Cortes had arrived in a country where dwelt a marvellous people, infinitely more civilized than he could have expected, and particularly when compared with the natives of Cuba and adjacent isles. And these tribes had beautiful cities, excellent houses, an almost perfect administration, and a system of labour which provided work for all. There were no beggars, and all lived and fared well. In fact, luxuries were common throughout the land ruled over by Montezuma, while it is reported of that monarch that he dined off fresh fish, received within twenty-four hours of the catching, from a port two hundred miles away. It may be wondered how such a thing was possible, when no animal of any description was used for work. But the system of runners or couriers before alluded to made the matter possible, and helped to prove to Cortes that these Mexicans were indeed a wonderful nation.

The Spaniards entered Mexico peacefully, and were received by Montezuma and by his people with awe, for now another circumstance came to help them. It happened that among the superstitions of the race was one concerning the god of air, called Quetzalcoatl, who was supposed to be chiefly instrumental in teaching the arts of metal-working, the methods of good government, and many other matters which aided in keeping the state successful and prosperous. This god had disappeared; it was said he had gone to the coast, to the Gulf of Mexico, and had there taken his place in a skiff made of serpents' skins. He had sailed away, promising to return with his descendants. Report said of him that he was tall, had a white skin and a flowing beard, with long hair over his shoulders. What wonder if this superstitious nation took Fernando for the god of air, and received him with joy! He had shown his superiority by disobeying the orders of Montezuma, a fact sufficient to declare him a superior being. He was white, and if not tall, he was moderately so. The description fitted the Spanish leader sufficiently well, while Mexican superstition and the chatter of the priests did the rest. Fernando was received with joy. Thousands of richly-dressed nobles crossed the viaduct to meet him, while Montezuma even came some way to do him honour. Quarters were assigned to the force, while their allies remained within call outside the city. Cortes had accomplished his desire; he had come to Mexico, and we shall learn in due course how his boldness was rewarded.

CHAPTER XI

News of Fernando Cortes

Roger de Luce sat on the terrace of the great temple, where dwelt the fierce and remorseless god of war, and looked down upon Mexico, the delightful city nestling on the bosom of the lake. From his elevated perch he could command every cranny, see the outline of the enormous square dedicated to the priests, the huge palace in which the king lived, and the market. Then he followed the orderly streets, noticing that some had broad pavements, while some were composed of canals communicating with the lake, while yet others had pathway and canal, allowing the foot passengers to chat with those in the skiffs. Thousands of the latter were about, plying amongst the houses or on the lake. From the roof-tops came the smoke of many a fire, mingling with that from the altars. And the gardens were a delight. They stretched on every roof, scarlet, and pink, and mauve, and the finest green. They floated on the water of the lake – actually floated – for the Mexicans loved their flowers, and made up for lack of space by tying withies together, and covering them with reeds and earth. These were anchored in the lake, and arranged as gardens.

Roger could even catch the sparkle of the water as it flowed through the aqueducts on its way from the country outside, and was marvelling at the ingenuity displayed in bringing it to the city in this manner, when some one touched his shoulder, and he turned to find the priest and the noble. Both bowed low, as before, casting their eyes down as he looked at them.

"We ask you to fulfil your promise," said the latter. "It is time that some one went to the people, and we propose that the priest should first descend. Later on, when he has returned to this spot, I will go to the king, and he will come to do you honour. He, too, will see his mistake. We shall all be glad to admit that we have placed this Malinché in the wrong position. That he is no god of air as we thought. We shall rejoice that you have come at such a time to help us."

He bowed again, while the priest followed his action with the utmost humility. Roger stamped his foot and flushed with vexation.

"It is hard luck that I should be treated with more bobs and curtsies than King Harry at home," he said in English. "No matter how often I repeat it, these fellows will take me for one of their gods. I suppose it is the result of being so tall."

It was undoubtedly partly due to that, for Roger overtopped any one in Mexico. But Nature had given him a pleasant appearance and much courage, all of which played upon the imagination of the people. Then none had ever seen such a combat as had taken place on the previous evening. It seemed incredible that one so young could oppose so many. The success of the defence and the novel methods employed had convinced the Mexican priest that Roger was the god of air, the very one who was supposed to have returned in the person of Fernando Cortes. And the supposition explained why Roger was an enemy of the Spaniards. The latter had proved cruel and grasping, and had long ago shown that they were impostors, and had nothing to do with the god of air. Then this Roger must be he; and the priest prepared to descend and tell the people.

"They will believe me," he said to the noble. "There can be no doubt. This youth has no fear. When danger comes he stands to his full height, and watches. None could drag him to the ground, while at the touch of his hand men fell with a crash. We must show our friendship, for there is now no mistake. Have I his permission to go?"

"He will trust you. You will return when you have spoken, and then I will go to the palace. Have you anything to say before you leave?"

"Nothing, save that I crave the pardon of this gallant youth."

The priest evidently meant every word. He had been brought up in the precincts of the temple, and superstition was engrafted in his mind. It was, therefore, only natural that he should think of Roger as he did, and ask for his pardon. The noble repeated the words and the request.

"Tell him there is nothing to forgive on my side, but that I am sorry if I hurt him. Ask him how he feels, and whether I did much damage."

"He is well," was the answer. "He has no pain, and was well punished. He may go."

The priest gathered his black garments about him and hobbled to the steps, for despite his assertion to the contrary he still felt the effects of the toss which our young giant had given him. Then he disappeared from sight, to be seen again as he gradually circled the tower in his descent.

"Men are coming to meet him, and they are shamefaced," said the noble, looking over the edge. "There will be sorrow in Mexico when the full tale is learned, and afterwards there will be rejoicing. Will my lord eat? I will stand beside him, and any question that he may care to ask I will answer."

Roger had already satisfied his appetite, but his hunger for news was far from appeased, and for long he kept the noble beside him, telling him the names of the streets and of the town at various parts of the lakes. Then he suddenly turned and reminded him of his promise of the previous evening.

"Where are these Spaniards?" he asked. "You have said that they came to Mexico. Then where are they now, for I see no sign of them in the city."

"You can see traces of their going, my lord. Look there, and there also."

The noble took Roger's arm and attracted his attention to the causeway.

"Watch the line of the masonry and trace it to the bank from the heart of the city," he said. "Can you not see that it is broken, and that men are now labouring to repair the injury? That is where the fight took place. Yes, my lord, we showed them at length that we could fight, and we drove them out. Many lie beneath the water, or are covered by the fallen bricks, while their allies were slain in thousands."

"Then there has been a battle?" exclaimed Roger, in astonishment, for he had had no information. "And you have defeated the Spaniards?"

"Defeated them and driven them beyond the valley. We took them for gods at first. Their boldness amazed us, and the late king Montezuma had faith in them. He was too good and too kind, and these men preyed upon him. They induced him to swear vassalage to their own king, and afterwards took him to the quarters which he had had prepared for them, saying that they would hold him as hostage. And we lived close at hand and did not move."

The announcement almost took our hero's breath away. It seemed incredible that four or five hundred strangers with their native allies could dare to do such a thing. And yet it had actually occurred. This Fernando Cortes had already showed both boldness and astuteness, and when in Mexico he displayed both qualities. He took advantage of Mexican superstition, to which the whole nation were abject slaves, and he actually persuaded Montezuma, a king who was feared by millions of subjects and vassals, to declare himself a vassal of a king whom he had never seen, and to come to the Spanish quarters as a hostage for the safety of the Spaniards, or on some such feeble excuse. Such boldness was almost ludicrous; it was impudence. But we have to remember the circumstances, and that a Western nation were here treating with a people who had never heard of Europe, and to whom their own religion was of supreme importance.

"Yes," continued the noble bitterly, "we lived at hand and did not stir; we made no effort to bring him back. But let me give you my name. I am Teotlili, and was selected at the first to act as envoy to these strangers. I went to the coast at the order of Montezuma to meet these men, and from my intercourse with them, and my conversation with Marina, their woman slave, I learned to speak the language. For they remained on the coast for a long time, founding their town of Vera Cruz. It was there that I took them a number of presents, amongst them the image of the sun, which was composed of pure gold."