Time Travel Omnibus, page 274
A fierce shout of agreement went up from the crowd of conquistadors. But Cortez raised his arm commandingly in the torchlight.
“We can do nothing!” he affirmed. “If we try to make a sortie to the temple to rescue them, we’ll lose a score of men in trying to save a half-dozen.”
I appealed to the leader’s sense of strategy. “But Don Hernando, if we can gain the summit of the temple and overthrow the idol there, the fall of Huitzil will strike confusion into the Aztecs.”
My desperate appeal made an impression on Cortez. “It is true that that might win us a respite,” he muttered. “The fiends are superstitious to the last degree. It might gain us enough time to prepare for an exodus from the city—”
Cortez made quick decision. “We’ll try it! Every horseman and arquebusier and crossbowman make ready! De Montejo, I leave you here with the Tlascalans to keep open our way of retreat. Quick now, gentlemen!”
With a roar of approval, the conquistadors made ready for the desperate sortie. We mounted our mailed horses, untied our heavy battle-axes, and waited while the Tlascalans unbarred the heavy gates.
Father Olmedo lifted his hand in solemn blessing. “God’s help will enable you to overthrow yon Wicked idol. Strike hard for the right.”
“God and St. Jago!” roared Alvarado in the old Spanish battle-cry, as the gates were flung open and we spurred out into the square.
Iron-shod hooves of our mounts rang and clattered on the paving as we rode full tilt toward the torchlit mass of Aztecs around the base of the towering temple. Behind us in a run came stout crossbowmen and arquebusiers and swordsmen. Cortez, in full mail, galloped at our head.
“The teules come forth!” screamed a warning Aztec voice.
The next minute, our close-packed mass of galloping riders hit the horde of feathered warriors. We tore into them like steel into paper.
I, Nick Clark, crazy with fear for Kay, wielded my heavy battle-axe upon the feathered heads and distorted faces of coppery warriors whose maquahuitls stabbed out of the press at me. In the tossing torchlight the battle there at the base of the temple was a crazy, whirling chaos.
BOOMING like hoarse thunder far above us in the darkness, the great serpent-drum continued to throb over all the war-cries and death-shrieks of the struggle. The roar of arquebuses punctuated the din as our footmen came running up to support us.
With us mailed horsemen as a spearhead, we clove through the Aztec horde and reached the base of the temple. Before us rose the steps of that dizzy, unrailed stairway that ascended the side of the teocalli.
Cortez’ strong voice trumpeted across the battle from where our leader rode in the van.
“Alvarado! Hold the dogs here with your horsemen while the rest of us gain the summit!”
I threw myself off my horse and joined Cortez, Sandoval, Bernal Diaz and our swordsmen as they started up the side of the terraced pyramid.
Scores of Aztecs had retreated up the stairway and now opposed our progress with fanatic resistance. It was steel blades against flint-edged maquahuitls as we fought up the dizzy stairway in the torch-shot darkness, with the serpent-drum booming louder and louder in our ears.
Chapter VII
La Noche Triste
NOT even the fanatic Aztecs could stand before us as we pressed up the stair. The booming of the great drum, signalling the beginning of the sacrifice of the Spanish captives, inspired my comrades with frenzy.
I, Nick Clark, felt a frenzy equalling theirs when I thought of Atzala-Kay among those chosen victims. Fighting shoulder to shoulder with Cortez and Sandoval, I struck and stabbed with a strength drawn from the last reserves of my weakened body.
“Tlateloco! Tlateloco!” shrilled the fanatic Aztec battle-cry.
“God and St. Jago!” roared the Spanish yell.
Whizz of arrows and stones, clash of swords and maquahuitls, the screams of men who lost footing on blood-slippery steps and plunged off the side of the steep and giddy stair—all were wild background to the hoarse throbbing of the setpent drum.
From terrace to terrace of the teocalli we fought upward until at last we reached the flat, unrailed summit of Huitzil’s temple. The altar-fire in front of the grotesque idol was blazing high, its red light illuminating the whole ghastly scene.
One Spanish captive had already been sacrificed. His ripped, contorted body lay on the crimsoned floor and his heart was in the smoking pan at Huitzil’s feet. De Oli, his face flushed dark red, lay bound across the sacrificial stone and the black-robed high priest was raising his obsidian knife to plunge into the victim’s breast.
Cortez and Sandoval and my other comrades yelled in rage and horror and plunged forward through the wild Aztecs who still opposed us. But my eyes had flown to the row of bound captives awaiting their turn upon that dreadful altar, and I had glimpsed Atzala’s prostrate figure.
Heedless of the terrific struggle around me, I bent with wild anxiety over the slim figure. She was bound hand and foot but was unharmed and collapsed quivering in my arms as I cut her bonds with my bloody sword.
“Kay, you’re safe now!” I said hoarsely. “We’ll get you out of here.”
“Lopez!” yelled a strong voice to me through the fight. “Help us with the idol!”
It was Sandoval. He and Bernal Diaz had fought their way to the looming idol of Huitzilopochtli that towered at the edge of the temple-summit. They were endeavoring to dislodge it from its base, while Cortez and the others fought a furious battle over De Oli at the sacrifice-stone.
I kept Atzala-Kay behind me for protection as I hurried across to the idol. Black-robed priests, screeching like demons, attacked us with their glass knives but we cut them down and then the three of us pushed with all our strength at the towering idol.
It rocked a little on its base, then rocked more violently. We summoned our strength in a convulsive final effort. And the huge statue of Huitzil tottered and fell, crashing down onto the steep side of the pyramid below, bumping and thundering down through the red-lit darkness.
“Thus perish all such heathen idols!” yelled Bernal Diaz, his face flaming with triumph in the firelight.
“Huitzil has fallen!” screamed a cry through the Aztecs, in accents of superstitious horror. “The teules have overthrown the god!”
CORTEZ and the others had freed De Oli and slain the last of the Aztecs on the summit. The serpent-drum had fallen silent.
“Down out of here and back to the palace before the dogs recover from their confusion!” Cortez shouted to us.
I half-carried Atzala down that slippery stair to the base of the pyramid, and drew her across my saddle-bow as I remounted my horse.
Uttermost confusion of bewilderment and dismay had momentarily gripped the Aztecs at the fall of their idol. We reformed our forces and pushed through them in the direction of Axayaca palace.
I glimpsed Guatemozin now under the light of distant torches, his fierce face contorted as he sought to rally the warriors against us. Burke Ullman, I knew, still was determined to seize us two and destroy us after extracting from Kay the treasure-secret which he correctly guessed Montezuma to have told her.
But not even Guatemozin could arouse the Aztecs to effective resistance at this moment. They were so dazed by superstitious horror that we were able to smash through them and safely gain the open gates of our palace-stronghold.
Once in the palace, I carried Atzala aside. She—Kay—was still shuddering with uncontrollable horror as I held her in my arms.
“Nick, I tried to carry out my idea and bargain with Ullman,” she choked. “But before I ever reached him, the Aztecs had seized me and were carrying me to Huitzil. Ullman tried to get me away from them, but their hatred for Montezuma and his family is implacable—he couldn’t.”
I soothed her, as best I could. “You’re safe now, Kay—for the time being, at least.”
She would not be reassured. “Nick, we’re all trapped here and Burke Ullman will go to any lengths to get his hands on me, and to prevent either of us from ever reaching the Beam.” There had fallen a strange silence, outside the palace. For the time, the Aztecs were too overwhelmed by the fall of Huitzil to resume their attacks upon our stronghold.
But we all knew that as soon as they recovered from the shock to their superstition, they would resume the siege with an even more fanatic frenzy. Our food and water were low, and our resistance could not long be maintained.
At the council of war that Cortez held with us captains an hour later, our leader unflinchingly admitted our dire predicament.
“GENTLEMEN, there is only one thing we can do,” Cortez declared raspingly. “We must make all possible preparations and then fight our way out of Tenochtitlan. If we can escape this cursed city, God will help us to gather new forces among the Tlascalans and return to conquer this realm.”
“How can we get out of the city?” Alvarado asked gloomily. “The Aztecs have removed all the bridges of the causeways. We’re trapped.”
Cortez showed his resourcefulness and iron resolve. “Then we must construct a portable bridge and carry it with us. We’ll use it to cross each of the gaps in the causeway, moving it from one to another.”
I think that all of us quailed at the precarious and perilous method of escape he proposed. Yet none of us showed our dread, for all knew that we must make the attempt or perish in this place.
“We’ll prepare the bridge as quickly as possible,” Cortez went on, “and will sally forth at night. Then all will be in God’s hands.”
“At least,” vowed Alvarado grimly, “we’ll send a plenty of the heathen dogs to hell whether or not we get away.”
Later, I told Kay of the decision and rapidly outlined to her the chance that it gave us two.
“If we can get across the causeway to the mainland shore of the lake,” I said, “you and I can leave the others and make for Iztapalapa hill—can reach the Beam.”
A pathetic eagerness was in her voice. “Nick, do you really think we have a chance to get back to our own time?” I dared not tell her how slim that chance appeared to me. But the darkness of the outlook haunted me during the frenzied time of labor and preparation that now began.
Cortez had set every one of our force who could be spared from the walls to labor upon the construction of the light portable wooden bridge upon which all depended. As the tense hours dragged past, there was still no resumption of the attack on us by the hordes of Aztecs in the surrounding city.
But our lookouts reported that great forces of Aztec warriors were gathering all around Tenochtitlan, coming in swarms of canoes across the lake. They were undoubtedly planning a final assault in force. And well I knew that Guatemozin would be in that attack—that Burke Ullman would be seeking out Kay and myself.
Night finally came—the night upon which we were to make our desperate attempt to crash out of the city. It was moonless, dark and windy as our forces gathered in the courtyard of the palace. All of us, even our fierce Tlascalans, were somber with fateful foreknowledge.
Cortez had led us captains and soldiers into a big chamber of the palace in which was stored all the gold he had collected so far.
“Gentlemen, we must abandon this gold for it is too heavy to take with us,” he told us. “You may each take what you wish, but I advise you not to weigh yourselves down with it.”
Heedless of his advice, many of my Spanish comrades stuffed their pockets with the heavy metal, their avidity conquering all caution.
“Now,” declared Cortez, “we march. Each man keep to his place, strike hard, and with God’s favor we shall win clear.”
THE gates were opened and our column started out into the pitch darkness in rapid march. Cortez rode with the advanced guard of Sandoval’s hundred picked soldiers, guarding those who carried the bridge.
I was with that party, and I had insisted on taking Atzala on my horse with me. Behind us of the advance guard came Mesa’s gunners with their little cannon, then our Tlascalans, and finally the rear guard under command of Alvarado.
Through the gusty darkness we pressed across the great square beneath the brooding shadow of the now dark Temple of Huitzil. We entered the street leading to the causeway, before a shrill alarm tore the night.
“Up, Tlateloco!” shrilled the dreaded cry. “The teules seek to escape the city!”
“Spur forward!” Cortez shouted. “The causeway is just ahead!”
Through the dark streets, Aztec warriors were now pouring to intercept us. Arrows and javelins were beginning to rattle among us.
But we reached the causeway itself before the whole horde was aroused. As we hurried forward, the lake was a black obscurity on either side of us.
“Out with your canoes!” yelled a fierce voice somewhere in the night. “Attack the teules at the bridge-gaps!”
Kay, who cried to me the meaning of those shouts as she clung behind my saddle shuddered at that last yell.
“Nick, that was Guatemozin! Burke Ullman!”
“I’ll kill that devil before this night is over, even if we die ourselves!” I swore.
Out of the blackness of the lake came swarming the dim shapes of hundreds upon hundreds of canoes crammed with Aztec warriors. The fiends discharged a rain of missiles that struck down men all around me, and at the same time they paddled forward toward the first bridge-gap.
We reached that deep gap in the causeway to find it already crowded with canoes. Upon the causeway itself, a mass of Aztecs opposed us.
“Clear the dogs out of the way so that we can place the bridge!” Cortez’ trumpet-voice ordered.
“St. Jago and at them!” flared Sandoval’s clear voice, and we horsemen spurred forward and slashed and struck with sword and axe at the shadowy shapes of our enemies.
We drove them off the causeway and the panting men who carried the portable bridge dropped it into place in the gap. It sank downward a few inches and then stuck fast in the aperture.
Fighting off the Aztecs whose canoes crowded fiercely around the bridge, we got across it. But now there was a fatal hitch.
Cortez shouted to me, “Lopez, ride back and tell Alvarado to bring forward the bridge for the next gap.”
I spurred back upon the errand, but when I shouted to Alvarado through the melee he answered with a cry of despair.
“We can’t lift the bridge, Lopez! It’s jammed tight in the gap!”
THAT information chilled my blood.
There were two more gaps in the causeway ahead, which somehow must be crossed.
Confusion was growing in the wild darkness, more and more of the Aztecs clambering from the canoes onto the causeway to attack us directly.
Cortez’ iron leadership showed itself at this desperate moment. “Forward, then, without the bridge!” he yelled. “We’ll cross the gaps somehow!”
The struggle forward now became a nightmare to me. I was conscious only of the necessity of preserving the girl who clung behind my saddle, of somehow fighting through this hellish confusion to the Beam.
As we pressed forward, a dimly visible feathered shape darted up in front of me and a maquahuitl grazed my arm. I struck down the Aztec with a desperate blow of my axe and my horse plunged over him.
“Hold on, Kay!” I exclaimed hoarsely. “We’ll get out of this somehow!”
The unforgettable voice of Guatemozin was yelling orders from one of the canoes in the darkness nearby.
“Find and seize Atzala and the teule with her!”
“Ullman was ordering his Aztecs. I did not need Kay’s interpretation to understand.
We reached the second gap in the causeway. Here was a terrible scene of death and confusion. Our baggage, artillery, packs and everything else had been thrown into the water here in attempt to bridge the gap. Our advance guard was clambering over this improvised bridge, but the Aztec canoes clustered thick here, the horde attacking us fiercely.
“Ware that lance, Lopez!” yelled Bernal Diaz to me out of the wild confusion of darkness and battle.
Kay screamed, as shadowy Aztec figures darted up around us. My horse sank to his knees with a scream, his throat lanced through.
I flung myself out of the saddle, dropping the heavy battle-axe and slashing with my sword. My desperate strokes dropped two of the Aztecs and the other two fell back.
“Kay, this way!” I cried, helping her to her feet.
I dragged her through that hellish melee toward the gap in the causeway. We were clambering across the precarious improvised bridge, my sword stabbing at the Aztecs who sought to clutch us, when I glimpsed Guatemozin’s fierce figure by the light of a torch in a nearby canoe.
Guatemozin pointed at us. “There are the princess and her teule lover! Seize them!
The girl beside me was torn away from me suddenly. I whirled and saw her being dragged into a canoe, by two Aztecs.
“Nick!” she screamed.
I plunged toward the craft before the other warriors seeking to seize me could do so. As I leaped into the little craft, my sword battered down the tnaquahuitl of the nearest of the two Aztecs in it, and sliced deeply into the yelling warrior’s neck.
The other Aztec dropped the paddle he had snatched up and drew a flint-edged dagger but my bloody blade ran him through as he flung himself toward me.
“After them!” Guatemozin-Ullman’s voice was raging somewhere near us.
THE main Spanish force, leaving its dead and dying behind, had crossed this fatal gap and was struggling on down the causeway. Alvarado, trapped on the wrong side of the gap by a group of Aztecs, snatched a long lance from one of them and vaulted across the wide gap as I looked.
“We can’t get back to the others, Kay!” I cried. “Grab that paddle!”
It was our single remaining chance of escape—flight in the canoe. Snatching up one of the paddles and digging it deep into the water, I sent the slim craft flying out through the swarming Aztec canoes and over the dark lake.
We heard a babel of cries on the water behind us, and Guatemozin’s raging voice shouting. Clash of blades and screams of wounded men came from the dark causeway where Cortez and his force were fighting doggedly on toward the mainland.
