Chapter XVI: A Sacrifice of Children, and What It Portended

As the ancient capital of his father's race, Huetzin regarded the city of Cholula with an intense interest. It was a source of real sorrow to him that it, rather than another, should be selected as the sacred city of the Aztec priests. His eyes blazed with indignation on seeing the flames of Aztec altars rising from the mighty pyramid erected by his Toltec ancestors, a thousand years before, in honor of their bloodless religion.

This most colossal monument of the New World rose to a height of two hundred feet, and its base covered forty-four acres, an area twice as great as that occupied by the Egyptian pyramid of Cheops. It was a venerable pile when the Aztecs took possession of the land and erected on its summit a magnificent temple, which they dedicated to Quetzal. With the advent of their cruel religion began those daily human sacrifices that drenched its altars with blood for two centuries, or until the coming of the white conquerors. Other temples sprang up about that of Quetzal, each demanding human victims, until the number of those annually sacrificed, in Cholula alone, was over six thousand.

No sooner was Huetzin left with his command than he began to put into practice some of the lessons he had learned from his new friends. His first care was to establish a chain of sentinels and advanced pickets about his camp. Then he sent out small scouting parties in various directions to glean all possible information regarding any other troops that might be discovered in that neighborhood. Finally, after darkness had fallen, disguising himself in the coarse and mud-stained garments of a maker of pottery, whom he had caused to be captured for this purpose, he made his own way into the city.

Once among the streets he avoided those places in which the Spaniards were being lavishly entertained by the caciques of Cholula, and threaded the more distant but populous quarters. He was struck with the number of people still at work, in spite of the lateness of the hour. Masons appeared to be repairing house-walls in all directions, and quantities of stone were being carried to the roofs for their use. Laborers were making excavations in the streets, apparently for foundations; woodchoppers were hewing numbers of posts into sharp-pointed stakes. Many old people, women, and children were also to be seen, and all of these appeared to be removing household goods.

At length, in the most remote part to which he penetrated, Huetzin came upon that which caused his blood to boil, and, at the same time, filled him with horror. Several hundred persons were grouped about the entrance to a small temple. They were silent, almost to breathlessness, and were evidently intent upon some scene being enacted within. Every now and then a stifled cry, apparently that of a child, came from the interior of the temple.

Determined to discover what was taking place, Huetzin, by patient and persistent effort, finally forced his way to the very front rank of the spectators, and in another moment was as anxious to make good his retreat from this position as he had been to gain it. For fully a minute he was so tightly wedged in by the eager throng about him that to move was impossible, and he gazed with a horrible fascination at the awful scene disclosed through the open doorway by the flickering light of its lurid altar flames. It was a scene of human sacrifice, though not one of such every-day occurrence that the spectators were wholly hardened to it. It was a sacrifice of children; and, as one pitiful little victim after another was roughly seized by the blood-stained priests and laid beneath the merciless knife, a suppressed shudder passed through the gaping throng. Still no manifestation of disapproval was made, and every eye eagerly followed the motions of an aged priest, whose scanty white locks were blood-reddened like his body, and to whom each little heart was handed still palpitating, as it was torn from a child's breast. He was an augur, and was watched with a breathless interest as he sought for omens from the dread thing held in his hand. As each was tossed aside, evidently unpropitious, a murmur of disappointment arose from the spectators, and more than once Huetzin heard the remark: "The hour is not yet come."

Finally, sick with horror, and raging with a furious anger, the young Toltec could bear it no longer. With a stifled cry he burst through the encircling throng of human wolves, and in spite of angry words and even blows, forced his way into the open space beyond them. When once more free he fled, he knew not whither, filled with a tumult of thought the central idea of which was vengeance. At length he reached his own camp, heart-sick, and exhausted by the strength of his emotions. Here he received the reports of his scouting parties, and learned several things, which, added to his own information, kept him in a state of wakeful anxiety until morning.

At the earliest possible hour he sought an audience with the Spanish leader, to whom he imparted his fears that some deep-laid plot for the destruction of the invaders at this point was in preparation. He told Cortes of the Aztec army discovered by his scouts hidden in a valley but a short distance from the city; of the exodus of those too old or feeble to fight; of the piles of stones secretly accumulated on the house-tops adjoining certain streets; of the pits dug in those same streets and artfully concealed, after being lined with sharp-pointed stakes; of the various chance expressions that he had overheard; and of the awful, but unusual, sacrifice of children of which he had been an unwilling eye-witness. At the same time he expressed it as his belief that the hour had not yet come for springing the trap thus set. It was evident that the portents were not yet favorable, and everything seemed to be awaiting further orders, probably from Montezuma himself. From the nature of the preparations it seemed likely that nothing would be undertaken until the Spaniards were ready to leave the city and continue their march.

Marina, who interpreted this communication, added some suspicions of a similar character, that she had gleaned from certain unguarded utterances of the wife of a Cholulan cacique, with whom she had formed an acquaintance.

Although the conqueror was not one to be easily alarmed, yet he was prudent and ever on the watch for treachery among those surrounding him. So important did he deem the information just given him, that he at once doubled his precautions against a surprise. After thanking the young leader of Tlascalans for his vigilance, he requested him to return to his own camp, continue his work of acquiring a knowledge of what was taking place in and about the city, and to hold his warriors in readiness for instant action.

When Huetzin had departed, Cortes turned his attention to his immediate surroundings. He ordered that no Spaniard should pass beyond the walls of the temple enclosure in which they were quartered. Nor should one lay aside his arms, on any pretext, for a moment. The horses of the cavaliers were kept saddled and bridled, ready for instant service, and the artillery was posted beside the three gateways in the temple walls, in a position to sweep the streets leading to them.

While these preparations were being made, Marina's new acquaintance, the garrulous wife of the cacique, came to pay her a visit. In a short time the Indian girl, pretending to be anxious to escape from the Spaniards, had drawn from her a full account of the conspiracy, which, she said, originated with Montezuma. The Christians, on attempting to leave the city, were to be led into the streets prepared with pitfalls, into which it was expected the cavalry would be precipitated. In the resulting confusion they were to be attacked from the housetops and by the Aztec army that was in waiting, when their easy destruction was deemed a certainty. Even a division of the anticipated captives had already been made, and, while a certain number were to be retained for sacrifice on Cholulan altars, the remainder were to be led in triumph to Tenochtitlan, in the leathern collars, affixed to the ends of stout poles, that were even then prepared for them.

Having agreed to a plan for taking flight to the house of this talkative acquaintance that night, Marina dismissed the woman and hastened to lay the plot before Cortes. The latter, summoning his captains, disclosed it to them and asked their advice as to what course should be pursued. Some of them, in despair at the imminence of the threatened peril, advised an instant return to Tlascala, if not to the coast. Sandoval, Alvarado, and others of stouter hearts, declaring that such a retreat would certainly insure their destruction, advised that in boldly facing the danger, and continuing their onward march at all hazards, lay their only safety. Cortes agreed with this, and added that at no time since they entered the land of Anahuac had the thought of retreat been further from his mind than now.

He then sent for some of the Cholulan caciques and announced his intention of leaving their city early on the following morning. He desired that they should furnish him with a thousand porters for the transport of his artillery and baggage, and should themselves act as his guides to the limits of their domain. These requests they willingly promised to grant, and were dismissed.

That night there was little sleep in the Spanish army, and all held themselves in readiness for an attack. The period of darkness was, however, passed in peace, and through the night no sound broke the stillness of the city, save the hoarse voices of the priests proclaiming the hour from the summit of its lofty teocallis.