Mexica: A History Podcast
Mexica: A History Podcast
Fall of Tenochtitlan (Ep 8)
In Episode 8, Cortes wears out his welcome in Tenochtitlan and sacrifices Moctezuma in a final attempt at saving his ambition: the greatest city in the New World. The Noche Triste, among the most iconic nights in Mexican history, plays out as the Spanish-Tlaxcala army flees the city.
Part 1 - Cortes Returns to Tenochtitlan
Following the Toxcatl Massacre, which decapitated the Mexica nobility in Cortes' absence, he returns to take command of a bad situation.
Part 2 - Death of Moctezuma
Holed up and pinned down in Axayactl's palace, Moctezuma is killed.
Part 3 - Noche Triste
On the most famous evening of the entire Conquest, Cortes and his army try to sneak out of Tenochtitlan. A brutal battle erupts as the Spanish flee on the causeway.
Part 4 - Battle of Otumba
Pursued for days into the desert, Cortes decides to turn and face the pursuing Mexica army.
Part 5 - Struggle in Tenochtitlan
The challenges facing the Mexica become apparent once the Spanish are gone. And a plague strikes.
Part 6 - Cortes Returns
After gathering new forces and healing, Cortes brings a refreshed army to finish the Mexica.
Episode 8 Credits
Written, researched, performed and produced by Jeremy Lipps.
~ Music ~
Araucanian war song by downforthecount
Away by Meydän
Fourth Imaginary City by cryptic scenery
Daniel Birch, www.danielbirchmusic.com
Breathe
Sustained Light
The Gates Are Locked
This Could All Be Gone Tomorrow
Fourth Imaginary City by cryptic scenery
~ Sound Effects ~
jungle tropical birds and insects by mikevpme
water lapping by celch93
splashing footsteps1 by soundmary
foley natural water jump by nox sound
horses by arnaud coutander
walk on dirt road by mikeypme
horse snort by bruno auzet
horses whinnying by leandiviljoen
arrow cutting through the air by bruno auzet
ancient old time battle combat horses snorting... by ylearkisto
ambient battle noise swords and shouting by phranzen
the rain falls against the parasol by straget
stones falling by iwanPlays
orest stream between mekhanizatorov settlement and akhtyrka vilage moscow region by halfofthesky
water-lapping by ceivh93
rain by idomusics
fire 2 by pushtobreak
horse whinny by inspectorj
walking2-gravel by tec-studio
Last time in Episode 7: Pedro de Alvarado led a massacre of the Mexica nobility and military officers, leading the Spanish to hole up in the palace, under a siege of Mexica projectiles, until Cortes returned to save them.
The cries and wails coming from the Sacred Precinct were enough to make anyone in the city aware of the tragedy. Finally, after several Mexica, who had escaped the slaughter, had raised the alarm did the surviving captains from around Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco begin to rally outside the precinct. Inside the precinct the Spaniards were stomping out the last of the victims, stabbing them as they found them in temples and rooms, hiding behind statues or whatever else was available. The courtyard was slippery with Mexica blood and entrails. The stink of death and human waste was overwhelming. Feathers, fallen to the ground, became soaked in blood, glued in place by coagulated hemoglobin. What was a raging celebration just an hour ago was now a slaughterhouse.
The improvised platoon of Tenochca and Tlatelolco Mexica warriors outside began to push in against the guards at the gates. Alvarado called for a retreat to the palace as the Mexica retaliation was becoming overwhelmingly fierce and the element of surprise spent. The Spaniards hustled back to Axayacatl’s palace under a rain of darts, stones and arrows from the rapidly mounting Mexica forces. Alvarado thought perhaps he had made a grave error. Perhaps he did.
Chased up the stairs of the palace where the Tlaxcala warriors had come out to help defend the Spaniards, they were now confined to the palace, part fort, part prison. As the men, sweaty, battered and running on adrenaline stormed in, Alvarado ordered Moctezuma shackled, along with Itzcuahtzin and Cacama. Outside the palace the Mexica raged, sending a mountain of projectiles into the courtyard which covered the floor with a layer of rocks, darts and arrows. They built a fire outside the doors to burn them away. The men inside shot crossbows and arquebuses through the gaps, most soldiers found pillars to sit behind or places to otherwise avoid the rain of projectiles. Alvarado may have underestimated the retaliation the Mexica were capable of mustering. Now trapped inside, Alvarado’s 150 Spaniards and 4000 Indiginous allies were of little value. Outside the palace warriors poured in from across the Valley. The projectiles continued into the night.
Inside Axayacatl’s palace Pedro de Alvarado and his men barricaded all the entrances, positioned the artillery at the openings in case of a breach. Any man who set foot outside the palace would face a barrage of darts, stones and arrows. They took account of the dead and injured, seven of Alvarado’s 130 men were dead, most had injuries. They assessed food and water, which was little, and began the long wait for Cortes’s return.
That night several men went to the roof of the palace to keep guard. In the darkness of the night a procession of torches began to emerge. At first 20 dots of yellow light appeared in the streets moving toward the Sacred Precinct. Then hundreds, as the people of Tenochtitlan came out to recover the bodies of their loved ones. Soon thousands of torches were out in the streets and in the sacred Precinct, their bearers holding them low to the ground scanning the faces of the dead, among which were their sons and daughters. One by one, as they discovered their dead loved ones a wail would rise in the night, a siren sound of loss. A deeply soulful sorrow engulfed Tenochtitlan. The cacophony sent fear into the hearts of the Spanish, who had never heard such a sound. The tears of the Mexica fell for days as bodies were removed and taken to various neighborhood shrines and temples for cremation. The wounds of that night have left deep cultural scars that last to this day.
The Mexica tried to put their city back together. They cleaned the blood, swept the rubble from the streets. They dug out the canals around the palace to make them wider, deeper and more defensible, they built mounds around the perimeter to give their men cover. Having learned, the Mexica army tried to cut down open space which the horses excelled in.
It didn’t take but a few days for news of the masacre to reach Cempoala and the ears of Cortes, who was still coordinating after his victory over Panfilo de Narvaez. Both Moctezuma and Alvarado sent messengers, each with a different version of events.
Cortes, knowing Alvarado’s cavalier spirit, could see through his friend’s narrative that the Mexica had ambushed them. What was done was done. Displeased at the news, Cortes quickly rallied his new troops from Narvaez and counted almost a thousand, plus 80 horses and 19 artillery pieces. He dispatched 200 to Vera Cruz to bolster his troops there where men were building a fort and town. Then he set off for Tenochtitlan.
Part 1 - Cortes Returns to Tenochtitlan
Cortes and about 800 European reinforcements arrived in Tenochtitlan on June 24, 1520. The city was eerily quiet as the Spanish force entered the causeway and made its way to the palace where Alvarado and the rest of the Spanish and Tlaxcalan forces were holed up. Coming from the city of Texcoco, Cortes marched his men south around the Lake to the southern Iztapalapa causeway, he could see barricades that had been placed on certain roads. In the shadows, Mexica warriors lurked. Perhaps the Aztec warriors were surprised by the large contingent of Spaniards he came with or maybe it was just bad timing but Cortes and his men walked right into the city.
Nearing the center of the island Cortes could see the defensive earthworks the Mexica had built. When he arrived at the palace Cortes saw the charred doors, broken plaster and other damage to the exterior. Smoke was rising from several places. He could smell gunpowder and blood. Under the horses hooves the stucco and wood rubble of the palace crunched. His heart sank, it seemed any hope of diplomacy was gone. Moctezuma, guarded by Tlaxcalans and his usual Spanish guards, greeted Cortes, trying his hardest to present a positive spin, transparently cheerleading a scenario that Cortes could see was gone.
Using whatever waning power he had left, Moctezuma ordered a feast for the returning Spaniards. The order was obeyed, one of the final orders the doomed king would give, and Mexica workers setup a dinner for Cortes and some of his men. It would be the last comfort any of them would have for the next couple weeks. The Mexica forces descended on the palace the next day, continuing a violent siege of Axayacatl’s palace. Outside the palace, Moctezuma’s brother Cuitlahuac was leading the Mexica forces and acting as the defacto leader. Moctezuma had squandered whatever respect and authority he had, any remaining obedience he was shown was for his position of Tlatoani, not to him personally. By now the nobility had fled or been killed and any semblance of a royal court was gone. No one came to Moctezuma. And the stones, darts and arrows continued to fall.
The only advantage the Spanish could maintain was a defensive perimeter due to their artillery, arquebusiers and crossbows. At times during the siege the cannons were fired into the swarming Mexica troops through holes in the doors or walls. The shot would rip through dozens of men, but the hole it created was backfilled by a dozen more warriors. It seemed there wasn’t enough powder or shot to kill half of these Mexica warriors. However, fear of the artillery and ranged weapons did keep the warriors at bay.
At night there was some reprieve for the Spanish as the mixed-forces of the Mexica and their allies let up in the darkness. But sleep was not easy to come by. Those nights the men would crawl into whatever crevice or hole they could find and curl up, hoping the barricades would hold. In their dreams the Spanish were tormented by the visions of their crimes. Disemboweled corpses howled at them in pain, their white, lifeless eyes searching for the light of life. Heads rolled about, screaming nonsense. Disembodied legs hopped around the room, running nowhere. In their minds the weight of their crimes was beginning to weigh on some of the Spanish. Outside the walls Cuitlauhac’s magicians crept about, whispering curses through the cracks, driving the guilty visions of the conquistadors.
The Spanish did lash out from the palace at times. Cortes attempted to ride out and take nearby homes where Mexica archers and slingers used the rooftops to shoot projectiles. Sometimes they could hold the area long enough to burn some homes down, eliminating a good outpost. Other times they were turned back quickly and made no progress at all. The Mexica controlled the bridges efficiently and had barricaded much of the solid land to restrict the horses' access to open field. Whether Cortes and his allies took bridges or were repulsed they would all be injured by an endless stream of arrows, darts and stones.
That night, as the Mexica warriors outside pounded on the walls, lobbed stones through the courtyard roof a man named Berrio threw himself down next to Francisco de Aguilar in one of the side rooms. He leaned close to Aguilar, who found his proximity uncomfortable, and he told of a vision he had. Berrio was known as a bit of a mystic with a penchant for forecasting outcomes of critical events. He leaned in, through his bushy beard, stained and broken teeth, he said to Aguilar, “If we don’t leave in three days time we will not leave this place at all. I’ve foreseen it. We must tell the Captain that we have to go.” Then he withdrew into the darkness and curled up on a mat somewhere.
While it was not out of the realm of the obvious, Berrio’s mini-prophecy gave some wind to a desire to leave the city. Berrio’s words quickly spread and a group of men encouraged Cortes to plan for an exit.
Cortes was no fool and he too could see what Berrio saw. Perhaps much of mysticism is in the presentation. The walls of the palace were trembling with instability, weakened by fire and stones. The men were out of food and water. Time alone would kill them here if Cuitlahuac’s armies didn’t first.
Part 2 - Death of Moctezuma
Four days into this brutal siege, four days of frenzied attacks from Mexica armies, and other allied cities, the Spanish were nearing an inevitable choice; stay until their death or attempt to escape. The palace was charred, crumbling and would not last. There had not been food or potable water for several days. The Spanish captains were asking him to flee, that they were starving and losing men daily. Those of the Narvaez faction began to curse their decision to join Cortes. Cortes was not blind to all of this, but he had one more idea to try to calm relations between the Spanish-Tlaxcala coalition and the enraged Aztecs under Cuitlahuac’s command outside the palace.
Cortes entered Moctezuma’s quarters where he was held with Cacamatzin, the lord of Itztapalapa, and Itzcuahtzin, lord of Tlatelolco. He addressed them briskly, quickly passing over courtesies. Cortes told Moctezuma he must address the army outside, appeal for calm.
This irked Moctezuma, who seemed resigned to fate. “I do not think my words will move them to peace,” he said plainly. But Cortes urged him onward. After some symbolic back and forth that Cortes only tolerated briefly, Moctezuma was forced to his feet and marched to a ladder, climbed up to a roof-top terrace overlooking the plaza and walls of the Sacred Precinct. Beside him two Spaniards with shields guarded him against a potential attack.
From behind the Spanish shields, Moctezuma began to speak loudly to the warriors below who did stop to hear him. He was still Tlatoani, powerless, perhaps, but still the great speaker. This last chance to redeem himself in the eyes of his own people was immediately squandered when he began to urge peace with these men, who had just murdered their families. This impotent man, standing up above them with Spanish shields protecting him, pleading for them to put down their weapons while the funeral pyres still burned in Nonoalco, Moyotlan and the other districts of the island.
Several in the crowd began to heckle him. Watching was the young Captain Cuauhtemoc. Again he looked upon Moctezuma with rage and disgust. In his eyes this sputtering old man had a head full of religious prophecies and had faith in fantasies of peace and reconciliation. Once this fool was off the terrace he would resume his attacks on the palace with Cuitlahuac, who was essentially the de facto emperor at this point. As Moctezuma continued to sputter, stones came flying up toward him. The Spanish knocked a few stones away, but more and more came and Cortes ordered the men back as the barrage was overwhelming. Before they could get to cover Moctezuma was struck in the head by a stone. His head pounded, blood gushed from the forehead wound. All the men up there were wounded in the barrage.
When Cortes saw the bleeding Moctezuma carried down from the roof he was deeply disappointed, and scared. Not for Moctezuma, but for their chances of escaping this scenario. Moctezuma was their last chance to walk out of here in the light of day. Moctezuma was dumped back in his quarters where Cacama and others tried to care for him. But his condition was quickly deteriorating.
The next morning, hoping to secure a path to the mainland, Cortes rode out with 20 horsemen. He managed to drive a few small squadrons off the bridges at Tecpantzinco and Tzapotla canals but as soon as they moved on the Mexica would retake them. After a couple days of these back and forth exchanges it was becoming clear they had to leave. Cortes ordered construction of a portable bridge that they would carry with them to cross the canals West over the Tlacopan Causeway.
On the evening of June 29th Moctezuma Xocoyotzin, Ninth Tlatoani of Tenochtitlan, died. Cortes knew this was bad. Some men grieved, having guarded this man for six months. Others feared for their lives even more. Cortes ordered his body wrapped in a cloth. Several Mexica priests Cortes was holding were selected to take the body out. Immediately the grieving began and a great wail went up in the city. Inside the palace, the Spaniards were deeply unsettled by depth of grief they could hear all around them. And the rain of projectiles began anew. The warriors outside raged and chopped at the barricades keeping them out. As the Spanish hunkered down, Cacama and Itzcuatzin went to Cortes, angrily demanding to be released, in the heat of the argument Cortes ordered them to be killed. Both men were stabbed to death, along with several of their attendants. Their bodies were stashed out of the way.
Cuitlauhuac ordered his brother’s body to be honored with cremation, despite the protest of many who had stood, muzzled by the former Tlatoani, as the Spanish had their way with the Mexica treasuries, women and food stores. These valiant warriors were disgusted as they watched the Tlaxcalans revel in sustained glory for months, protected by order of this delusional man, this indecisive heap. Despite the justified resentment of his captains like Cuahtemoc and others Cuitlauhuac followed tradition and Moctezuma’s body was treated with the respect of any Tlatoani.
Moctezuma’s body was taken to the Oratory at Copolco, in the Tzonmolco District, placed upon a pyre and burned. There weren’t many nobles or generals or captains left to attend the funeral and those who did stayed only as long as required. The man they were there to mourn had allowed the city to become invaded from within, he fed the parasites and treated them as friends. As with any situation it is difficult to know exactly what decision making was happening but it seems that Moctezuma could have ended this whole thing with a single order that he never issued. He cleared every barrier and placed a hand over every spear until Cortes was in the heart of their city running it.
After Moctezuma’s cremation at the Temple of Copolco, Cuitlahuac retreated to the Temple of the Eagle Warriors in the Sacred Precinct with several priests, his captain Cuahtemoc and a few nobles who had remained alive. In the battered shrine of their most noble warriors, a new Tlatoani, the tenth in the history of the Tenochca Mexica. Cuitlahuatzin, chosen from the remaining nobles for his royal lineage and bravery in resisting the Spanish-Tlaxcala alliance, was crowned. In a small, haphazard ceremony run by people who had only taken bit parts in the past and who were trying to piece together 300 years of ritual history, Chuitlahuac, or Cuitlahuatzin, was charged with the care of the vulnerable, the elderly, the poor and with honoring the warriors who came before. And above all they charged him with honoring the gods who made their life possible. And with that he went back out to the walls of the Sacred Precinct to continue the siege against the Spanish, still holed up in Axayacatl’s palace.
Part 3 - Noche Triste
Dark clouds moved in over Tenochtitlan that afternoon of June 30, 1520. For the first time in a week the barrage of projectiles had stopped. As dusk fell over Axayacatl’s palace, smoke was rising from several points where the Mexica forces had burned walls or doors. Inside the palace the Spanish acted as firemen, pulling up buckets of brackish water from the well they had dug, and splashing it on the embers of their fort. The crossbowmen and cannons stood guard, targets fixed through holes in the barricades or walls.
Cortes let his men know that tonight they’d leave. He ordered the royal treasury opened and put Cristobal de Guzman, his servant, in charge of moving it all out into one of the halls. He then told the appointed King’s officials to secure the Royal Fifth. As the men went about counting and partitioning the gold Cortes addressed all the Spanish men there who could hear. He told them to take what gold and jewels they wanted as there was more than could be carried out. With a deep breath and pause, Cortes looked at the ground, then back up. He told them the road out of here tonight would be difficult, you must be nimble and alert. He told them to grab only as much as won’t weigh you down. He then told them they would leave at midnight, to be ready.
Some men put a few choice pieces of gold or a few jewels in their pockets. Others loaded themselves, strapping the large crude ingots to their bodies, filling their pockets to the brim with gold nuggets and jewels. The Tlaxcalans grabbed the bundles of fine feathers, which were of equal value to them as the gold and jewels.
Cortes defined the order in which the contingent would form up. He would lead the group out on horseback and strike out at any attacking forces. Then the foot soldiers with the bridges would come, place the bridge down while the group crossed. Behind the foot soldiers were the ranged units, archers, crossbowmen and arquebusiers. Then the civilians, women and prisoners, including three of Moctezuma’s children, and Marina. Next were some of the injured and lame horses which were utilized to carry out treasure. In the rear were the indigenous allies, almost 4000 Tlaxcalans, and a few hundred from other groups who had joined. With these orders fate was set. This mixed army of Europeans, Tlaxcalans, a few Cempoalans, Huetzotzincos and others would try to sneak out of a hostile island city under cover of darkness.
With their fate just hours away the men inside the now destroyed palace of Axayacatl paced about, checking their weapons, analyzing their gold loads. Of all the desperate moments these men had faced the most desperate was now ahead of them. They knew there were tens of thousands of Aztec warriors on the island. Far more than the 5000 battered and starved men Cortes had.
Many men spent their time praying in the hall that had been converted into a church. These rough men looked up at the face of the Virgin, crudely hewn out of wood. They prayed to her, for their souls, for their lives, for their mother’s souls. The chances of death were good, they all knew that.
From the roof the guards could see only a handful of Mexica warriors on the wall of the Sacred Precinct. Otherwise it was oddly quiet outside the palace. Mostly the men had finished praying and settled with themselves on the amount of gold they could carry. Now they milled about nervously as the midnight hour neared. Finally, Cortes called his captains together. They knew their assignments and the deadly task ahead. With few words, Cortes urged them to go with God and to move stealthily.
And with that men quietly dismantled a wall on the West side of the palace and began to quietly move out. The horses went first, some whinnying as they went, their horsemen trying to keep them quiet with whispers and soft words. The wet, crushed-stucco roads were soft and didn’t cause much noise. Cortes and his horse, El Arriero, emerged out onto the Tlacopan Road, behind them the shape of the Templo Mayor could be seen through the mist. Next the footsoldiers came out of the opening and onto the road. Keeping as tightly to the walls as possible the convoy began to move West in the rain. The horses reached the first canal at Tecpantzinco where the bridge had been removed. So the temporary bridge was brought forward, placed and the horses crossed, then the infantry, the civilians, the artillery and finally the Tlaxcala rear guard. The bridge was picked up and moved toward the second canal at Tzapotla.
Their movements had not gone undetected entirely. An elderly couple who had come out under cover of darkness to retrieve water spotted the silent army creeping out of the city. On the Templo Mayor a priest of Huitzilopochtli saw movement but through the drizzle could not be sure. The man and woman dropped their water pots and fled back into the sidestreets. The woman began to shriek, “Oh Mexica! The enemy is sneaking out. Come out mexica warriors!”
The woman’s shriek reached the Templo Mayor, confirming the priest’s blurry sighting. He began to yell from the top of the temple. Cortes heard the shouting too and began to hastily encourage his men to move quicker. As the men fumbled with the bridge some fell into the canal, immediately they became caught in the mud six feet below the causeway. Some of them yelled for help, others tried to climb out, some purged the heavy gold bars they carried to free themselves of the weight. The bridge was placed and again the horses filed across, then the footsoldiers.
Mexica warriors began to arrive on scene and hurl projectiles at the Spanish who were stuck on the narrow causeway. The attack was spontaneous, haphazard and disorganized. But more and more Mexica soldiers arrived as did Cuitlauhauc and Cuatemoc who took control of the forces and began ordering movements. Meanwhile the Spanish allies pushed toward the third canal at Atenchicalco. The bridge was placed and the convoy began to scramble across. By now the Mexica forces were mounting and being directed into canoes to line the causeway, essentially preparing a hellish gauntlet for the fleeing army. Boats full of Tlatelolca soldiers began to arrive on scene. Cortes’ rear Tlaxcala guard began to take heavy casualties as they were backed up behind the treasure and civilians and surrounded by the mounting Mexica forces.
By the fifth canal, the Tolteca Canal, the bridge had crumbled and the plan had fallen apart. Cortes pulled his horses to the side streets to push back against the Mexica, trying to buy time for the bridge placement. They got the tattered bridge down, now more a set of poles, and people began to scamper across but it collapsed and Spanish horses and men fell into the Tolteca canal. The first canoes landed and Mexica warriors leapt out onto the fallen men hacking at them with their macuahuitls. Others were crushed and drowned as more and more horses and men fell into the canal. Weighed down by gold, dehydration and malnutrition, many could not fight their way out of the mess and found their fate there in the cold, dark mud of the Tolteca Canal.
The rain poured down. Cuatemoc had taken to a canoe and was issuing orders from the lake. The Tlatelolco army quickly moved along the causeway from Nonoalco toward Tlacopan, which paralleled the causeway Cortes was on. They could cut Cortes' path from the front. Back at the Tolteca Canal so many horses, men and women had fallen into the canal that it was now filled and the Tlaxcalans crossed over the hundreds of bodies of their allies, their feet slipping off one body only to catch in the flesh of another. Many crawled on all fours across the bodies. By now Cortes and many of the horsemen had become separated from the rest of the convoy and were now out of the city on a causeway in the middle of the lake. It was suddenly quiet, cool and dark. Cortes stopped and looked back at the carnage his men were fighting through back in the city.
For the footsoldiers, prisoners and Tlaxcalans it was every man and woman for themselves. People were scrambling for their lives, jumping into canals, climbing over bodies, up the muddy banks of the causeway hoping not to catch a club to the skull or an arrow in the ribs. Horses slipped into the canals and drowned. Mexica soldiers fired arrows and stones from canoes, they clubbed people in the water. Cortes, seeing and hearing the desperate plight of his army turned back to help. It was a desperate scramble. Most were already dead, drowned or smothered at the Tolteca Canal.
Canoes filled the water along the Tlacopan causeway pelting the Spanish and Talxcala warriors as they scampered along the causeway. By now Cortes’ 900 Spaniards had been halved, the 4,000 Tlaxcalans had taken a higher rate of casualty, having been in the rear and exposed to the rooftop attacks for longer. The fighting bogged down in the darkness and the Tlaxcalans faced fierce hand to hand attacks from the Mexica.
With the convoy apparently stalled and the fighting being so intense a group of about 200 Spaniards and some Tlaxcala allies turned back to the Axayacatl’s palace where they had been holed up. While no one is sure exactly what happened to them it is rumored they held out there for a few more days before all being killed and sacrificed. They were not seen again by European eyes.
Cortes came back to the convoy with several horsemen and fought back some of the Mexica, allowing the Spanish to get moving again. As the gray, overcast sky began to lighten with the early morning sun the Spanish had made it to the other side of the Tlacopan Causeway to the island of Popotla. They continued on to Tlacopan and found brief shelter. The Tlatelolco army that had come across the Atzcapotzalco Causeway were piling into Tlacopan. The Spanish looked for secure ground to hold in Tlacopan, but were under heavy fire and continued West out of Tlacopan. All this time Mexica warriors were firing arrows and stones at them as they scurried along.
The hours blurred together, the adrenaline was long gone and the Spanish men only trotted along on instinct. They were beaten, bruised, cut and shot. One legend tells how Cortes, exhausted and overcome with grief, sat under a tree and wept uncontrollably. The remains of that tree remain to this day, called El Arbol de la Noche Triste, a living descendant of the tree grows nearby the historic stump. At some point they were directed to, or perhaps Cortes spotted the small town with some towers up the hill. This place was called Teocalhueyecan and the people here housed and fed the Spanish. They were distant relatives of the Otomi and Tlaxcalans. In the walled courtyard of their main building Cortes and his men rested for the first time in more than 24 hours. By now it was 3 or 4 in the afternoon, the sun was out and the heat of the day suddenly became present to the Spanish. Secondary senses, aside from survival, returned. Hunger. Memories of the last day. The savagery of the Tlacopan causeway. The people who fell in the canals.
It was then Cortes did a count. He counted just over 400 men, more Spaniards than Tlaxcalans. There were 23 horses still with them. They had departed the palace 24 hours ago with 1100 Spanish and 4000 Tlaxcalans, and 80 horses. Not a single man was unharmed, or not bleeding. Cortes began to realize who was not among them, like the three children of Moctezuma, including his son Chimalpopoca. Someone reported seeing him in Tlacopan, dead from an arrow wound to the neck. Moctezuma’s two daughters were also missing. Juan Velasquez de Leon was killed at a bridge on the causeway along with his Tlaxcalan princess wife, baptized as Dona Elvira. Others, Francisco de Saucedo, the self-proclaimed mystic Botello all found their end along that causeway out of Tenochtitlan. A box of his belongings made it out of Tenochtitlan, and on a piece of paper he had written a question: “Whether I shall die in this wretched war, murdered by the Indians.” Later in the journal he answered correctly, “You will die.” The book was filled with other contrary gibberish. Diaz tossed the book on the ground, worthless now. They had also lost track of a third royal daughter, Tecuichpo, who had disappeared in the chaos.
One man Cortes made sure to find was Martin Lopez, the shipbuilder.
Cortes and his men were able to defend this place and recover for a day or so. The Mexica forces were always present and rains of stones had come at them in this small walled courtyard with the tower. Cortes, with his captains, had decided they needed to get to Tlaxcala, the entire land was hostile to them. And so the next morning, July 2, 1520, before dawn the 425 Spaniards and their few remaining Tlaxcala allies, quietly marched out of Teocalhueyecan, north toward the Tlaxcala Road. Today this location is home to the Colonial era Catholic Basilica Nuestra Senora de los Remedios in the hills to the West of Mexico City. Their prized relic is an image of the Virgin Mary supposedly brought by Cortes himself.
Part 4 - Battle of Otumba
The expedition hobbled North, along the lakeshore. Always behind them were Mexica soldiers harassing them with projectiles and taunts. Sometimes the Mexica pushed after them harder raining arrows on them, other times they straggled behind just lazily insulting the rear-guard. Paranoid, tired and hungry, the Spanish pushed along the lakeside cities, Tepotzlan, Xoloc, Aztaquemecan.
In Tenochtitlan, Cuitlahuatzin, the new Tlatoani selected by the remaining nobility to succeed Moctezuma, rallied his regional partners to pursue the Spanish and finish them, or drive them back to their own land. He sent messengers to his allies in Texcoco, Atzcapozalco, Chalco and everywhere else he could think. He even besought the Tlaxcalans to side with their indigenous brothers. Some traditional allies were weakening in their resolve to support the Mexica, while others strengthened their resolve.
The main Mexica army had been close to the Spanish now for two days and Cortes decided it was time to force their hand. On a hillside overlooking the plains of Otumba, Cortes addressed his men. For all his evil deeds, and despite his penchant for genocide, Cortes was a soldier’s soldier. One of the boys, when he needed to be. But also a heavy-handed decision maker when needed. Cortes was able to inspire his men to impossible feats, to fight against insurmountable odds, over and over. And now, one more speech was given. Behind them were the remaining forces of the Mexica Empire, a rag-tag multicultural force of Tlatelolca, Tenochca, Tepanec and other random groups. Cortes looked as many of his men in the eyes as he could, he told of their odds in Tabasco when the massive armies of the Maya melted before them. When they delivered Marina, who translated this speech for him now. How they had marched against the Otomi and Talxcalans time and time agan and how those same people became their friends and saviors. And how they stood here now, after that terrible night, that night of sadness. Above all, he stressed how God hd protected them. And now there was one last test to overcome. And with that, the force, emboldened with a sense of fate, marched down the hill and circled up to await the Mexica alliance.
The mixed Mexica allies poured down the plain toward the Spanish. By now the Indigenous tactics were familiar to the Spanish, it was the projectile storm with occasional pushes by the infantry. Survive the projectiles, slash anyone foolish enough to come near. And so this slow grind of a battle raged on, the Spanish holding tight in their circle, the Mexica playing a conservative game with ranged units. Cortes had been running sorties with his cavalry and had identified a command center on the hill above the battle. One man stood with a golden crest of feathers, his gold jewelry glinted in the sun. He pointed things out to his commanders, horns blared, banners went up or down to signal the platoons.
Cortes knew this could be the final battle, so he called to a few other horsemen and charged up the hill toward the commander in the gold feathers. The Mexica leadership seemed unprepared for this and they scattered on foot. Cortes ran down the commander and stabbed him to death. The rest of the leadership scattered. The Spanish had held strong and in the absence of leadership the mixed forces began to lose ferocity and direction and soon turned and fled. It seemed another miracle. Their losses were light, but everyone was hacked up before this battle. Cortes himself sustained a significant head injury, having scalped a portion of his head in battle.
Although there were a few minor skirmishes after that, the Mexica forces were not seen again. The Spanish marched along the plain, to Hueyotlipan, over the mountains and down into the Tlaxcala homeland and safety.
Having heard of their return Maxixcatzin headed out to greet them. After a brief celebration both sides slipped into deep mourning as news spread of the total loss of Tlaxcalan soldiers. Maxicatzin’s daughter, Cicuatzin, baptized as Dona Elvira, was also dead. Killed by Mexica warriors with her husband Vasquez de Leon on the causeway.
Part 5 - Struggles in Tenochtitlan
It was quiet in tenochtitlan, finally. After months of strained occupation, the capital belonged to the Mexica again. The temples atop the Templo Mayor were burned, the deities toppled and vadalized. Rubble, fallen statues, shattered plaster was everywhere along the Tlacopan road out of central Tenochtitlan. Worse were the bodies.
In the Tolteca canal thousands of Tlaxcalans and Spaniards were piled, cooking in the sun. There were also Mexica casualties. The survivors went about moving the bodies. All the bodies were stripped, searched for valuables and separeted; Mexica would be ritually burned. Spanish and Tlaxcalans would be taken to the marshes to feed the reeds, vultures and coyotes.
Mexica men and women searched with their feet, or on their hands and knees for gold and swords and other valuables lost by the dead in the mud of the Tolteca. Much of it was recovered, there is probably still some buried there. In 1980 one of those raw gold ingots, formed in the haphazard Spanish forges of the Axayacatl’s palace, was found exactly where the Tolteca Canal ran - sitting there for almost 500 years, dropped by a greedy Spaniard fleeing the mighty city.
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The blood was rinsed from the streets. The temples were rebuilt as best they could. Cuitlahuac had driven the Spanish from the city and was now overseeing it’s repair. But things were slow going, the canals were still full of dead animals, human waste and rubble. The Mexica tried to heal, they held their rituals again. Some Spanish and Tlaxcalans who had been captured were sacrificed. The city was quiet, but it was the heavy quiet of grief. Thousands were killed during the Toxcatl Festival, thousands more during the siege that followed. And thousands more died again driving the Spanish out on the Noche Triste. The loss of life was unbelievable, catastrophic. The city was larger than her people could care for.
And then, the plague came.
In the Aztec month of Tepeilhuitl, a fall month, a new disease began to spread in Tenochtitlan. It seemed almost everyone in the city was stricken with the pustules. These sores would form on every surface of the body, bleeding and oozing, every movement causing searing pain. In every house it seemed someone was curled up on the floor, covered in smallpox sores. The pestilence decimated the surviving Mexica. It tore through th population, unconcerned for sex, age, rank or status. Just two months into his reign, Tlatoani Cuitlahuatzin was stricken with the plague and died. It’s estimated that between 60 and 80 percent of the population of Tlatelolco and Tenochtitlan was wiped, permanently disabled or blinded by smallpox.
The histories like to blame the African slave because he was the first to show signs of the disease. He was probably just the first victim, with the Spanish being largely immune already. For the third time in 1520 the Mexica found themselves clearing the city of their dead, grieving. Mexica society was no longer functional. Crops failed as no one could farm. The plague ran its course in 60 days and moved south to Chalco where it had a similar effect on the people there.
With the death of the tenth Tenochca Tlatoani Cuitlahuatzin from smallpox, a new leader was chosen. Based on his bravery, his valor in combat, the young warrior chief of Tlatelolco, Cuauhtemoc, was chosen to lead the Mexica people as the eleventh Tlatoani. Immediately he got to work clearing the canals, fixing the dikes that had been breached, rebuilding infrastructure and reaching out to allies. The Tepanec people’s leader in Tlacopan, Tetlepanqutzal, was on his side. Michoacan also joined Cuauhtemoc. Tlatelolco also sided with their Mexica counterparts, now led by one of their own nobles. As time passed and work was done, soldiers trickled in from the far reaches of the empire, from long lost allies and those simply wanted the invaders to go.
However, their Triple Alliance partner Texcoco was suffering from a divide in leadership. The current Tlatoani of Texcoco, Coanacochtzin, was loyal to the Mexica, but his brother Ixtlilxochitl was eager to welcome the Spanish. Accounts differ, but support for the Mexica holdouts in Tenochtitlan was fading and the future looked to be with Christianity, Cortes and the newly crowned Holy Roman Emperor Charles V.
Part 6- Cortes Returns
In the months that followed Cortes and Cuauhtemoc made strategic moves to counter each other, sometimes spurring combat, other times just spy games and chess. Cortes ran several campaigns in Tepeac south of Tlaxcala, and again he ventured to the hot lands of Chalco and pillaged around the south shore of Lake Chalco. His captain Sandoval was a brutal enforcer in this time, taking the sword to many towns. Cuauhtemoc also had armies shadowing the Spaniards as they moved about Tepeaca and Chalco, raiding and subjugating. Cortes found support in several former allies of the Mexica, including Chalco and Cholula.
In one of his final strategic moves, Cortes ordered the laborers of Tlaxcala to provide enough lumber for 13 brigantines to be built on Lake Texcoco and sailed against Tenochtitlan. Cortes sent for the rigging, anchors and other critical maritime supplies he pulled ashore in Villa Rica before the famous sinking of his ships. The shipbuilder, Martin Lopez, was put in charge of the operation. He worked with Tlaxcalan carpenters to identify the best woods for the boats and masts. Thousands of laborers went up into the hills and searched for the requested lumber.
With another incredible break of luck, several ships arrived to resupply the expeditions Cortes had raided. The Garay Expedition, from which he kidnapped several men, had failed in Panuco and 60 men joined Cortes. A delivery from Cuba intended for the failed Panuco colony also arrived in Villa Rica. Then a couple more supply ships arrived for Narvaez. These ships brought fresh supplies like gunpowder, shot and food, but also men and horses. It was a blessing for Cortes. He rallied all these stragglers to Tlaxcala. Once the lumber had been collected, Cortes set out for Texcoco, which sat on the shore of the lake where he planned to launch his brigantines. The Spanish marched between the volcanoes of Mt Tlaloc and Itztaccihuatl, sleeping in several towns along the incline. When they crested the pass they could see the lake and the great cities of Texcoco and Tenochtitlan. From there they could also see streams of people on the roads out of the valley. People were fleeing the war, the death, the disease and the misery that was about to return.
They knew Cortes was returning.
Next time, in bonus Episode 9, Cortes returns to the Valley and brings the final chapter of the Mexica to a close.
