War God: Return of the Plumed Serpent by Graham Hancock
‘Worse, Malinal learned from gossip in the market that twenty young men are being sacrificed every morning to the Mexica god of war, Hummingbird, so that he will give the Cholulans victory in an attack they will soon launch against us. She also heard it said, she believes reliably, that many ropes and stout poles with leather collars attached had recently been prepared and stored in the armoury of the palace, ready to be used to hold us prisoner, as well as hammocks in which we are to be tied and carried off to Tenochtitlan for sacrifice.
‘When the caudillo learned all this he showed no surprise, but became very grim and serious. “Since the Cholulans plan such treachery,” he said, “we’d better make preparations to attack them first and teach them a lesson.” He went at once with Malinal and twenty of our soldiers, all bearing arms, directly to the palace of Tlaqui and Tlalchi. I also followed, bringing Melchior on the caudillo’s suggestion. There was an altercation with the guards at the gate of the palace, and Don Pedro Alvarado and several of our captains drew their swords, but Malinal calmed the situation and we were given entrance and led into the presence of the two peculiar old men who rule this city. They were very alarmed and so confused they could hardly speak. The presence of Melchior, who snarled at them and would, I think, have attacked them had he not been leashed, seemed to discomfit them particularly! They denied they had any intention of taking us prisoner, or that human sacrifices were being carried out, avowing that their god was Quetzalcoatl, a deity of peace, not the dread Hummingbird, but Malinal informed the caudillo quietly that they were lying. They said they would search for food for us but claimed their lord Moctezuma had sent them orders not to give us any and did not want us to advance any further.
‘At this the caudillo announced they need not trouble themselves as we would depart Cholula tomorrow morning, Saturday 16 October, to proceed to Tenochtitlan to see Moctezuma himself and resolve all problems. He insisted that like other peoples we had encountered on our route of march, such as the Tlascalans and the Totonacs, they should provide us with a force of warriors from their city (he demanded no less than two thousand) and also bearers (again two thousand), for we should have need of them on the road. Finally he required that this escort of warriors and bearers should meet us in the plaza of the great pyramid in front of our lodgings tomorrow morning at one hour after dawn, and that all the lords of Cholula, including the two rulers, and all the heads of household of the population of the city should also assemble there. He wished, he said, to bid them a proper farewell and inform them of certain things that it would be greatly to their advantage to know.
‘As Malinal translated these words, I noticed a very strange, sinister look, and hidden smiles, passing between Tlaqui and Tlalchi, who readily assented to everything the caudillo had asked. They then begged to be excused, saying they had many preparations to make for the morrow.
‘It was late afternoon when we returned to our lodgings where the caudillo at once summoned all the principal captains, heads of companies and platoon sergeants to inform them of his plan for war.’
* * *
The gathering was held in the spacious, high-ceilinged audience chamber on the second floor of the grander of the two adjacent lodgings granted to the Spaniards. A balcony running the whole length of the room commanded a wide view over the city’s main plaza, with many small, brightly coloured temples clustered at its edges, and the mountainous great pyramid of Cholula looming at its centre. The plaza itself, measuring a thousand paces on each side, was set within a high enclosure wall, decorated with richly painted reliefs of plumed serpents. These, Malinal said, were the emblems of the god of peace, Quetzalcoatl, to whom the pyramid had been dedicated in ancient times, and with whom Cortés, to his advantage, was frequently identified by the Indians. Towering on the pyramid’s summit was a tall temple, likewise dedicated to the peaceful Quetzalcoatl, yet at its east side squatted a fearsome and bestial idol of the war god Hummingbird – a recent addition according to Malinal – overlooking a hemisphere of stone, across which sacrificial victims would be stretched to have their hearts cut out. Standing beside that stone this evening, gazing intently down at the Spanish quarters, was the lone figure of a man, dressed only in a loincloth, his whole body covered in tattoos.
‘Their high priest?’ Cortés asked Malinal.
She shook her head: ‘No! He nagual – very special sorcerer. Have great power.’
At this Cortés found he had involuntarily crossed himself. So too, he noticed, had Sandoval and Díaz, who stood nearby and had overheard. But Alvarado, who was with them, merely scoffed. ‘Sorcerer my arse,’ he said.
‘I heard in town his name Acopol,’ Malinal continued. ‘Moctezuma gave him command of rituals at pyramid. He’s the one makes the sacrifices there.’
‘We’ll put a stop to that,’ said Cortés.
‘Tomorrow?’ Malinal asked. ‘There will be ceremony at dawn, like today, like yesterday. Unless you stop it, twenty more young men die.’
She was looking Cortés directly in the eye and he shifted uncomfortably. Somehow the woman had the knack of making him feel guilty about almost everything he did. ‘Unfortunately we have to allow the sacrifices to proceed tomorrow,’ he said. ‘To march up there and stop them would put the lords of this city on their guard, and that would be a mistake. I need that assembly of citizens they’ve promised in the morning.’
‘Why do you need?’
‘Because I have to take exemplary action here if we’re going to avoid much worse trouble in the future.’
‘Exemplary action? What that?’
‘We have to make an example of them,’ said Cortés. ‘Not just of the sacrificers but of the whole city. They’ve defied us and they’re planning to attack us and we need to teach them and others that that doesn’t pay.’
‘So you sacrifice them all then? Like you sacrificed people of Teocacingo?’
Cortés sighed: ‘Sacrifice? Your Spanish is very good now, Malinal, but you have the wrong word. It’s simply a matter of kill or be killed, attack or be attacked.’
Predictably not all the captains supported Cortés’s plan. Some – De Grado again, always the most forward in urging retreat! – wanted to leave Cholula that very night and return to the safety of Tlascala. Others were also in favour of an immediate departure, but preferred to continue the advance, Ordaz in particular arguing for a new route to Tenochtitlan through the Republic of Huexotzinco which, like Tlascala, was in a state of open warfare with the Mexica, and might provide a source of additional allies against Moctezuma. The majority, however, were with Cortés in favouring a pre-emptive strike against the Cholulans. ‘If we let this treachery pass unpunished,’ Alvarado said, ‘they’ll never take us seriously again. I say let’s fight them here. They’ll feel the effect more in their homes than in the open fields.’
It was Cortés’s way to allow his captains to speak, and sometimes to listen to them, but Saint Peter had convinced him that something momentous, something exemplary, must happen here. Had the welcome given to the Spaniards been different, had the city fallen at their feet in abject surrender, he might perhaps have spared it, despite the counsel of his dreams. But the evasiveness of its rulers, the preparations in the streets for war, the failure to deliver food supplies today, and the need to give Moctezuma an unambiguous demonstration of Spanish resolve, all made a massacre inevitable.
‘Gentlemen,’ Cortés said, holding up his hand to silence the series of noisy arguments that had broken out amongst the captains. ‘Gentlemen! Hear me if you will.’ He turned to De Grado and gave him a broad smile. ‘Alonso, you are suggesting we run from a fight here in Cholula to seek the “safety” of Tlascala when not so long ago you were urging us to run from Tlascala to seek the “safety” of the Totonac Hills! I think it’s obvious, if I’d listened to your counsel of despair then, that Tlascala would not be a place of safety for us today, filled with willing allies, but a place of danger filled with triumphant enemies. By the same logic, therefore, I shall not l
Cheers from Alvarado’s faction filled the room, De Grado blushed and lowered his head, and Cortés turned to Ordaz: ‘As for you, Diego, I could not be more in agreement. It has long been my strategy to win the allegiance of the Huexotzincos and form a grand alliance with them and the Tlascalans and others who oppose Moctezuma. To do this, however, there’s no need for us to spend our time marching to Huexotzinco, for they already know how matters turned out between us and Tlascala and when they see us win a great victory against their bitter enemies here in Cholula, I assure you they’ll come flocking to our standard.’
Ordaz nodded slowly. ‘You’re right, Hernán,’ he said. ‘I’m with you.’
Cortés looked round the room and asked: ‘So are we agreed, gentlemen? Shall we teach these Cholulans a lesson in the morning?’
It was Bernal Díaz who stood up: ‘Let’s give them the beating they deserve,’ he said, and it was plain he spoke for everyone. ‘I say forward and good luck to us!’
After that it was just a matter of sorting out the details.
As though it was really the Spaniards’ intention to leave in the morning, a great show was made of packing and tying the army’s baggage which, as the evening progressed, was stacked up under guard out on the plaza ready to be transported by the bearers the Cholulans had promised to provide. Meanwhile Francisco de Mesa set his Taino slaves and Totonac bearers to work, hauling both lombards and six of the falconets up to the audience chamber, where they were loaded with grapeshot and placed on the balcony overlooking the plaza. At the same time, Cortés sent Bernal Díaz with Sandoval and García Brabo to reconnoitre the four main gateways in the enclosure wall surrounding the plaza, and to organise teams of soldiers to take possession of them in the morning.
When all preparations had been made to his satisfaction, Cortés retired to his private quarters with Malinal and took his pleasure on her, but he was too excited to sleep. Restless, he rose and dressed in the half-light before dawn, walked through the audience chamber to the balcony, leaned against the cold barrel of one of the lombards and observed, fascinated, the great crowds of Indians beginning to gather in the plaza as twenty captives were led up the steps of the great pyramid.
The savage blare of conches and the beat of drums welcomed the rebirth of the sun, its first rays glinted on the monstrous granite visage of Hummingbird, and the sacrifices began.
* * *
Moctezuma had spent the night wakeful within his chambers in the warded confines of his palace, and at each of the hours of darkness dedicated to the nine Lords of the Night, he had sacrificed a three-year-old girl to Hummingbird as a token of the birthday present he was preparing for the war god. He had left instructions that any messenger from Cholula should be brought directly to him, and now, as the sun rose and the hour of Huehueteotl, god of fire, ushered in the dawn, an exhausted runner was admitted to his presence.
‘Sire,’ the man said, throwing himself down on his face. ‘I am to inform you that all has been done as you commanded. The lords Tlaqui and Tlalchi have devised a cunning plan. Even now, the white-skins will be gathering with all their belongings in the sacred plaza of Cholula, where they have been summoned to bid farewell to the lords and heads of household of our city, while a great escort of soldiers and bearers prepares to assist their march to Tenochtitlan. There will be some exchange of speeches, sire, to allay the suspicions of the white-skins, and when he divines the moment to be correct, the sorcerer Acopol will blow three blasts on the war trumpet. This will be the signal for the regiments of General Maza to move into the city and for our citizens and soldiers, bearing secret arms, to fall upon the white-skins—’
‘I don’t want them all killed!’ said Moctezuma sharply. ‘I must have captives brought here for sacrifice. I trust Tlaqui and Tlalchi understand this.’
‘Orders have been given accordingly, sire. The lords and all the citizens of Cholula understand that every effort must be made to take the white-skins alive.’
‘Very good,’ said Moctezuma. Dismissing the runner, he summoned the priests of Hummingbird, who stood in attendance to bring him another child.
* * *
Malinal was with Cortés on the balcony where Mesa’s gun crews stood poised by the cannon ready to fire. Behind them in the audience chamber was Pepillo, sitting by Melchior; the caudillo had permitted him to chain his dog for safekeeping in a corner. The rest of the war hounds were penned below in the courtyard, since there was no plan to deploy them in today’s battle. Vendabal had offered them, but Cortés had replied ‘only in extremis’, which Malinal understood to mean only if the fighting went against the conquistadors. Otherwise, Cortés had said, the animals were better kept out of the way. In the enclosed space of the grand plaza there was a danger they would be killed by the Spanish guns and tangle the hooves of the cavalry.
Thirteen cavalry horses had survived the war with the Tlascalans; these were now lined up right beneath the balcony at the edge of the plaza. All were fully barded, twelve with their riders in armour already in the saddle, while the thirteenth, Molinero, was held steady by a groom awaiting Cortés’s arrival. Lined up in front of the horses in five disciplined squares of fifty were two hundred and fifty foot soldiers, also heavily armoured. The remainder of the men, in four teams of twenty, had quietly taken up positions at the north, south, east and west sides of the plaza by the four massive gateways.
Separated from the main body of conquistadors by a strip of clear paving a few dozen paces wide, Tlaqui and Tlalchi were hunched in their ceremonial robes, surrounded by a hundred other lords of the city. Behind them, in sullen, threatening ranks, were the two thousand Cholulan soldiers Cortés had requested, here supposedly to provide the Spaniards with a safe escort to Tenochtitlan, and by their side a large group of two thousand ‘bearers’, themselves all obviously soldiers. Many of the latter were in pairs with hammocks suspended between them, in which they repeatedly invited the Spanish to lie down. ‘Come, tueles,’ they called out, elaborating their meaning with extravagant signs and gestures, ‘take your rest, great lords. Let us carry you to Tenochtitlan to meet our god.’ Their knowing grins and grimaces left Malinal in no doubt they were mightily pleased with themselves. Poor ones! They clearly believed they’d fooled Cortés and were going to have an easy time of it.
Behind them the whole plaza seethed with the men of Cholula – ten thousand at least, Malinal thought. Making little effort to conceal the macuahuitls, clubs and knives they held, they filled every available space, lining the tops of the walls, occupying the roofs of the gate towers where piles of rock were clearly in evidence, lapping at the base of the great pyramid, clustering up its sloping sides and milling in their hundreds around the temple and idols on its summit platform. Equally ominous was the excited, buzzing murmur of the even larger crowd that had gathered beyond the walls: clearly the whole city had turned out to witness the humiliation and destruction of the Spaniards.
‘It’s time,’ Cortés whispered, taking Malinal by the elbow and guiding her forward to the edge of the balcony. They stood side by side for a moment, looking over the multitude, before he began his address in his usual ringing tones, pausing at intervals to allow her to give her translation.
‘Lords and citizens of Cholula,’ he said – and at once all faces turned towards him and a pregnant silence descended. ‘I know all of your evil plans. I know of the poles you have gathered with nooses you intend to slip round our necks, I know of the real purpose of those hammocks you invite us to lie down in. I know of the holes you have dug in your streets, the sharpened stakes you have planted, the barricades you have erected. I know you have sent your women and children from the city because you expect fighting and wish to keep them from harm. I know that in return for us coming to you like brothers, you hope to capture us and kill us and eat our flesh, here and in Tenochtitlan. I know of the vile sacrific
As Malinal put these last threatening words into Nahuatl, a great roar went up, weapons were brandished and there was a general surge of movement forward towards the Spanish squares. ‘Now, Mesa!’ said Cortés calmly, and at once all eight guns on the balcony belched flame and smoke and sent their whistling storm of death into the further reaches of the crowd, causing instant panic. At the same instant Malinal saw a flying squad of ten men led by García Brabo dash out from one of the squares below, cut down the guards around Tlaqui and Tlalchi, lift the astonished lords bodily from the ground and carry them back into the Spanish quarters. There came a pounding on the stairs and seconds later the two chiefs were thrown to the floor of the audience chamber and tied hand and foot.
‘Stay here,’ Cortés commanded Malinal. ‘Keep an eye on them. I’m going down to get in the fight.’
As he hurried off she heard the rolling thunder of a concentrated volley of musket fire in the plaza and, rising above the din of battle, the familiar, hideous screech of a Mexica war trumpet sounding from the summit of the great pyramid.
Three distinct blasts were blown and Melchior, still chained in the corner of the audience chamber, howled mournfully as though in answer.